Chapter 172: The Wiser Choice

For a split second, the black-and-white world around Ethan wavered, like static on a broken television screen.

The nails pinning him in place began to flicker in and out of existence.

Harold’s tier 6 illusion spell, Impale Dawn, functioned by messing with Ethan’s sensory input and feeding false information directly to his perception.

The spell hijacked what his eyes saw, what his body felt, and created phantom pain signals that traveled toward his brain to be processed into conscious experience.

However, ever since Ethan had awakened the Aspect of Charge, his brain had been in a constant state of micro-electrical stimulation. Low-level currents ran continuously through his neural pathways, creating a baseline of electrical activity that had become his new normal.

When the false sensory signals from Harold’s illusion attempted to be processed by Ethan’s brain, they encountered this electrical interference. The micro-charges disrupted how those signals were interpreted, scrambling and degrading the false data.

The brain’s altered electrical state essentially rejected the incoming illusion, unable to properly decode the phantom sensations because the neural environment no longer matched what the spell expected.

And due to that, the illusion couldn’t maintain a stable hold.

Then, Ethan surged his well mana outward in a violent explosion of power and the sheer magnitude of it cracked the ground beneath his feet.

Harold’s eyes widened in shock as his smirk vanished instantly.

The other members of his squad had their expressions shifting from amusement to genuine alarm.

"What the hell..." one of them whispered.

Even the DSB agents in the distance turned their heads, sensing the sudden spike in magical energy.

Then, without warning, Ethan turned around in a blur of motion and lightning, lunging his arm to meet Harold.

However, his fist stopped mere inches away from blondie’s face, and the wind pressure from the strike blew Harold’s overcoat backward. His blonde hair whipped around from the force of displaced air.

Harold’s face went pale, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the fist hovering just before his nose.

However, in that same instant, the other members of Harold’s squad moved.

Save for Anna, who remained frozen behind them, the rest of the Black Hearts squad reacted almost simultaneously.

Two saber-class fighters appeared on both sides of Ethan, their blades pointed at his neck from opposing angles, with its edges gleaming with battle aura.

A ranger had drawn his bow, aiming directly at Ethan’s chest from several meters away.

A caster had a glowing orange magic circle hovering before her palm, with the spell primed and ready to release.

It was a temporary standoff, with weapons and spells on Ethan from multiple directions.

Ethan exhaled slowly, steam visibly leaving his mouth from the breath. His small fangs were just barely visible as he spoke.

"Next time," Ethan said in a low, cold voice, "I won’t stop."

Then he retracted his fist and took a step back. He didn’t think it wise to make further trouble with the city’s strongest guild.

Through the bond skill, Joe had received the mental command not to fire, which is why none of them had fallen to any of his bullet’s already.

Ethan turned without saying another word and walked toward Bettie, who still had her magic circle raised defensively, with an almost expression.

He took her hand gently. "Let’s go, Bettie."

Then she lowered her spell and turned with him as they walked back toward the vintage sedan together.

Harold still had a shocked stare and the rest of his squad slowly lowered their weapons as Ethan’s car started up and began driving out of the vicinity.

While the vehicle moved down the street, Bettie glanced at Ethan briefly.

For a moment, his expression was completely blank. Then, slowly, a subtle smirk appeared on his lips.

And although he loved that fearful look on Harold’s face, this did not mean that he let it go.

——

A few hours later...

Ethan walked through the entrance of a towering building. The structure was several stories high, with a dark paint exterior.

Above the grand wooden double doors at the entrance, the Black Hearts Guild insignia was prominently displayed.

It was a white emblem on a black background: a central sword surrounded by a circular element, with symmetrical wing-like formations extending from both sides.

Compared to Clustervayne’s modest guild building, this was a monument to success and prestige.

Ethan found himself in a spacious lobby area, and this ground floor was filled with administrative staff working at desks, handling paperwork, and managing communications.

All eyes turned toward him as he walked in, and certain conversations half way. A few people leaned toward each other, whispering.

A young man in glasses approached Ethan with a polite but cautious expression. "Excuse me, sir. Can I help you? Who are you here to see?"

"I’m here to meet with your guild master," Ethan said calmly.

The man then said. "Ah, I’m sorry, but the guild master isn’t present at the moment. However, Miss Bernadette, our vice guild master, is available. Would you like to see her instead?"

Ethan nodded. "That works."

"Right this way, then."

The man led Ethan toward a set of elevators at the far end of the lobby. They stepped inside, and the man pressed the button for the top floor.

When the doors opened on the top floor, Ethan stepped out into an entirely different atmosphere.

This wasn’t an office space. It was more like a high-end lounge or private club. People turned to look as he entered, and some people recognized him.

"Isn’t that Stark?" one person murmured.

"The Stark kid?"

"What’s he doing here?"

Apparently, Ethan had been developing a growing reputation he wasn’t fully aware of.

The escort led him further into the room. This floor was where the main squad members spent their time when they weren’t on missions.

Black Hearts had five main squads in total, separated into building’s floors, which also marked hierarchy.

Each squad was led by a captain. But this top floor was reserved for the main squad, led primarily by the guild master himself. In his absence, command fell to Vice Guild Master Bernadette Foster.

As Ethan walked past the gathered members, he couldn’t help but feel a certain presence radiating from them. These were veterans who had survived countless breach zones and built reputations of their own.

Just before reaching the office door at the far end of the lounge, a figure stepped directly into Ethan’s path.

A tall man, heavily built in such a way you’d know he was a tank class awakened, stared down at both Ethan and his escort.

His expression was cold and unwelcoming that the man in glasses beside Ethan froze, his face going pale. He opened his mouth to say something, but the large man spoke first.

"You can go," the tank-like figure said as his eyes never leaving Ethan.

The escort glanced nervously between them, then hurried away without another word.

The large man then crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Ethan met his gaze. "I need to see Miss Bernadette. So can i ask you to move out of the way?"

A woman sitting nearby, wearing dark lipstick and lounging in one of the chairs, let out an amused laugh. "Ooh ho ho, boy’s got a mouth on him."

The large man’s expression darkened, but before the situation could escalate further, another man stepped in smoothly, crossing an arm casually over Ethan’s shoulder like they were friends.

Ethan turned his head to look at him.

The man had a cool, friendly smile on his face. "Come on now," he said in an easy tone. "You can’t just waltz in here without at least letting us know who you are. It’s simple courtesy, yeah?"

Ethan’s expression remained the same, but he said, "My name is Ethan Stark."

The room went silent for a second then the woman with the dark lipstick burst into laughter. "No wonder he walked in here like he owned the place."

The man beside Ethan grinned. "Finally, I can put a name to the face."

The large man didn’t look amused. "I don’t see why he should just walk any further"

The friendly man waved him off dismissively, "Oh, come on, don’t be like that."

Then he gestured toward the office doors, "Right this way, Mr. Stark."

Ethan glanced at them for a second, unsure what to make of this group’s dynamic, but he followed the man forward.