Even in the faint red glow of the lanterns, he stood tall, his aura low but unmistakably heavy—like a sword sheathed, but still sharp.
"It's done?" Valeris asked, her voice soft but expectant.
Valeris's eyes flicked toward the blooming vines above the gate. "So that's what it looks like when you get serious."
Asher gave a small smile. "Just a warm-up."
Before they could say more, the inner doors opened again—this time with force. A group of armored guards stepped out, and behind them, an older man in regal robes marked with deep red and gold sigils.
His eyes were sharp. His presence commanding.
He moved toward Asher with measured steps, stopping a few feet away. "You are the one who healed my daughter?"
"I am," Asher replied calmly.
The Patriarch looked him up and down—not dismissively, but as one measures a weapon.
"She was cursed by something no one could identify. Even our best healers failed. But you…" He paused, glancing back toward the now-quiet estate. "You not only survived, but succeeded. Alone." Follow current novels on Novel~Fire. (n)et
The Patriarch studied him a moment longer, then gave a slow nod.
"I am Lord Varnis. Head of House Varnis. And from this day forward, House Varnis owes you a great debt."
The guards behind him stiffened, surprised—but said nothing. A Patriarch bowing was no small thing.
Asher inclined his head slightly. "No debt. Just give us our reward, and we'll be on our way," he said calmly.
Lord Varnis studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Hmm. What do you want?"
Asher glanced around. Many of the healers were now staring at him and Lord Varnis, clearly curious about what kind of reward he would ask for.
"I think it's better if we talk inside," Asher said.
Lord Varnis nodded again. "Very well."
He gestured for them to follow. Asher and Valeris walked behind him as the castle gates closed behind them, leaving the other healers outside.
Inside, Lord Varnis led them through polished halls veined with red stone, eventually arriving at a large chamber. It was elegant but heavy in atmosphere, with thick drapes and ornate furniture. At its center was a long table where several people had gathered.
"We were just about to dine. Please, join us," Lord Varnis said, motioning toward the seats.
Asher and Valeris stepped forward, quietly observing.
Seated at the table were three well-dressed women—clearly noble—and five younger individuals. From their presence and expressions, it was clear: the three women were Lord Varnis's wives, and the five younger ones were his children.
As Asher and Valeris entered the chamber, one of the noblewomen stood up and hurried over. She moved with both grace and urgency, her eyes shimmering with emotion as she approached Asher.
"You must be the one who saved my little girl," she said, her voice trembling. "Thank you… truly, thank you."
Asher simply nodded, offering a quiet, respectful dip of his head. "She'll recover in time. Her soul is stable now."
The woman looked as if she wanted to say more, but her voice caught in her throat. Instead, she bowed deeply before returning to her seat, wiping her eyes.
At the table, the five younger nobles—clearly Lord Varnis's children—watched in stunned silence. A few of them exchanged glances, whispering softly. One of the older boys stood to give his chair to Valeris, while the others simply stared at Asher, unsure whether to treat him like a guest or mercenary he is.
Lord Varnis broke the silence.
"My family owes you a great debt. It wasn't just a healer we needed… it was a miracle. Many tried. None succeeded. Some even died. And yet you walked in and—just like that—you saved her."
He let out a deep breath and raised a goblet of dark red wine.
"To Asher, the savior of my daughter. May his name be remembered within these walls for generations."
The rest of the table stood, raising their glasses in unison—even the children mimicked the gesture with calm eyes.
Asher gave a small nod, his voice steady. "I didn't come to be remembered. I came because someone needed help. That's all."
Valeris smiled faintly at that, folding her arms. "And yet they'll probably build a statue anyway."
A chuckle passed through the table, the tension breaking for just a moment. Lord Varnis smiled as he sat back down.
"Still," he said, more serious now, "we did promise a reward. And it is only right that we discuss it privately."
He glanced toward the servants. "Prepare a quieter chamber. After the meal, we'll speak of what you desire."
Asher simply nodded again. He had already saved a life. But now… what came next would be his choice.
After the meal, a pair of quiet-footed attendants led Asher, Valeris, and Lord Varnis to a private chamber deeper within the estate. The room was dimly lit by floating crimson lanterns, its walls covered in heavy velvet drapes to muffle sound. A table of blackstone stood at the center, with only three chairs—clearly meant for a conversation of weight and secrecy.
Once the door was closed, Lord Varnis dismissed the attendants with a subtle wave of his hand.
"Speak freely now," he said, his voice calm but direct. "No ears beyond these walls. What is it that you desire in exchange for saving my daughter?"
Asher stood a moment in silence, then stepped forward and met the Patriarch's eyes.
"I want access," he said plainly.
Lord Varnis raised an eyebrow. "Access?"
"Access to the Red Womb of Order," Asher replied calmly.
The moment those words left his lips, the air in the chamber grew heavy. A hidden pressure descended around them, subtle yet undeniable—Mana Pressure of high-tier World Rank origin flared to life. It was Lord Varnis releasing his own power on them.
But neither Asher nor Valeris reacted.
To them, the pressure felt like nothing more than a breeze.
"I mean no harm," Asher continued, his tone unwavering. "If I did… I wouldn't have asked. I would've taken it."
As he spoke, his aura stirred—just briefly—revealing the sheer depth of his power. It washed over the chamber like a crimson tide, effortlessly pushing back against the protective ward. Lord Varnis flinched as the magic shielding his estate shuddered in response.