Chapter 46: Our Own Invitations

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Our Own Invitations

The Golden Lotus Casino was tucked three stories beneath a high-end restaurant in the Upper District. It was a playground for the rich and the ruthless—a place where Guild executives and corrupt politicians rubbed shoulders over tables of enchanted roulette and high-stakes poker. The air smelled of expensive cigars, spilled champagne, and heavy perfume.

Donald and Evelyn walked past the bouncers without a single issue. Their new clothes from Bastian’s shop worked perfectly. Donald looked like a young, wealthy Awakener in his tailored dark jacket, and Evelyn looked like his lethal, impossibly beautiful bodyguard.

They wove through the crowded gaming floor, ignoring the flashing lights and the cheers of the winners.

"Over there," Evelyn muttered, leaning close to Donald so he could hear her over the jazz band playing in the corner. She pointed toward a private velvet-roped VIP table. "Guy in the ugly purple suit. Julian Thorne."

Donald’s golden [Valuation Eye] flared to life for a split second, scanning the man.

[Target: Julian Thorne]

[Rank: D-Rank (Level 18)]

[Class: Illusionist (Non-Combat)]

[Note: High-society parasite. Carries two encrypted Gala VIP passes in his left breast pocket. Currently using a micro-illusion spell to hide an ace up his sleeve.]

"D-Rank," Donald said quietly. "And he’s cheating at cards?."

Evelyn snorted. "Julian’s a rat. Socialite. Buys his way into every Guild event just to network. If there’s an exclusive party in Genesis City, then he’s got tickets." She nodded at the table. "Let me do the talking."

Evelyn unhooked the velvet rope and walked right up to the poker table. She grabbed an empty chair, spun it around, and sat down backward, resting her arms on the backrest. She stared directly at Julian.

Julian was in the middle of a smug smile, reaching for a massive pile of chips. He looked up, annoyed by the interruption. When his eyes locked onto Evelyn’s face, the color drained from his cheeks so fast he looked sick.

"Evelyn... Vance?" Julian choked out, his voice cracking. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. "But... the obituary..."

"Don’t believe everything you read, Jules." Evelyn smiled. It was a sharp, dangerous smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "You look good. Purple’s definitely your color. Listen—I don’t wanna ruin your winning streak, but my partner and I need a favor."

Donald stepped up right behind Evelyn, crossing his arms. He let just a tiny fraction of his mana leak out—not enough to start a fight, but enough to make the D-Rank Illusionist sweat.

Julian’s eyes darted nervously between Evelyn and Donald. "Evelyn, I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but Sterling will kill me if he finds out I talked to you."

"Sterling isn’t here," Evelyn said, her voice dropping to a cold whisper. "I am. I hear you’ve got two VIP passes for the Ascension Gala this Friday. Hand ’em over."

Julian scoffed, trying to regain some of his pride. "Are you crazy? Those passes are encrypted to my bio-signature. Cost me fifty grand on the black market. I’m not just giving them to—"

Donald leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the green felt of the poker table. He looked Julian dead in the eye.

"Julian," Donald said, his voice calm and entirely reasonable. "You’re using a low-frequency illusion spell to hide the ace of spades under your watch band. The three men sitting at this table with you are C-Rank mercenaries who’ve lost about twenty grand to you tonight. I say that out loud, they’re gonna drag you into an alley and break both your legs."

Julian froze. His eyes went wide. The three heavily scarred mercenaries at the table suddenly stopped looking at their cards and glared at Julian.

"Now," Donald continued smoothly, holding out his hand. "The passes. Please."

Julian swallowed hard. His hands were shaking as he reached into his left breast pocket. He pulled out two sleek, silver metal cards and placed them in Donald’s palm.

"Bio-locks reset every twelve hours," Julian whispered, completely defeated. "You just press your thumbs to them before the Gala to claim them."

"Pleasure doing business."

Evelyn stood up, giving Julian a playful tap on the cheek. "Keep the change, Jules."

They walked out of the casino and back out onto the street, the cool night air a welcome relief from the smoky gaming floor. Evelyn was practically glowing with excitement as Donald slipped the two silver passes into his jacket pocket.

"That," Evelyn laughed, bumping her shoulder against his as they walked, "was incredibly hot. How’d you know he was hiding a card?"

"Good eye for cheaters," Donald lied smoothly, keeping the existence of his [Valuation Eye] entirely to himself. "Now we just gotta figure out how we’re walking into Apex Tower without getting shot on sight."

"We blend in," Evelyn said confidently. "It’s a masquerade gala. Sterling loves the theatrics. We wear masks, nobody knows it’s us until we’re standing right in front of him."

They reached the Zenith Spire and swiped their keycard in the lobby. The private glass elevator opened smoothly, and they stepped inside. Donald pressed the button for floor 50.

The elevator hummed to life, shooting upward at a rapid pace. The city lights blurred through the glass walls. Floor 20. Floor 30. Floor 40.

Donald leaned against the glass, enjoying the quiet moment with Evelyn. But as the digital display ticked over to floor 45, a sudden, agonizing chill shot up Donald’s spine.

His [Lesser Mana Perception] didn’t just beep; it screamed.

A massive, freezing, suffocating wave of magical energy was radiating from the top of the building. It wasn’t the wild, chaotic magic of a monster. It was precise, cold, and entirely lethal.

An A-Rank signature was sitting right inside their penthouse.

"Stop!" Donald hissed, his body instantly going rigid.

Evelyn didn’t ask questions. She saw the look on his face and slammed her hand into the red emergency stop button. The elevator violently screeched to a halt, hovering between floors 48 and 49. The sudden stop made the metal cables groan loudly.

"What is it?" Evelyn whispered, her hand instantly going to the sword hidden under her coat.

"Someone’s upstairs," Donald said softly, his eyes locked on the ceiling of the elevator. "A-Rank. Freezing mana."

"Sterling’s dog," Evelyn breathed, her eyes widening. "Damian. He’s the only one who tracks that fast. We open those doors on fifty, he’s gonna cut us to ribbons the second we step out."

"Then we don’t use the front door." Donald looked up at the emergency maintenance hatch in the roof of the elevator car. "We paid five million credits for that couch. I’m not letting some bald freak bleed on it."

Donald hopped up onto the handrail and punched the latch on the ceiling. He pushed the heavy metal panel open and pulled himself up onto the top of the elevator car. Evelyn followed him a second later, moving with Vanguard agility.

The elevator shaft was pitch black, smelling of heavy machine grease and old dust. Donald looked up. About twenty feet above them was the maintenance access door for floor 50, sitting just below the actual floor of their penthouse.

"Follow my lead."

They climbed the greasy metal maintenance ladder in total silence. When they reached the access door, Donald carefully pried it open. They squeezed into the crawlspace that ran directly under the floorboards of the penthouse. It was a tight, claustrophobic fit filled with ventilation ducts and wiring.

Donald crawled forward until they were directly under the living room. He closed his eyes and activated his [Valuation Eye], pushing the skill to see through the thin layer of drywall and hardwood above them.

The golden UI flickered, mapping the room above.

There he was. Damian. Standing perfectly still in the middle of their living room, looking out the massive glass windows at the city skyline. He didn’t have his weapon drawn, but his body was coiled like a spring.

Donald looked back at Evelyn, who was cramped right behind him. He reached back and grabbed her bare hand, lacing his fingers with hers.

[Dual-Cultivation Synergy Activated.] [Mana Cores Linked. Base Stats Multiplied by 300%.]

The rush of shared power was instantaneous. Donald felt Evelyn’s kinetic energy flood his veins, wiping away the cramped stiffness of the crawlspace. Evelyn let out a slow, hot breath as Donald’s massive mana pool linked with her core, her blue eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

Donald pointed upward, tracing a square on the ceiling with his free hand. Right here.

Evelyn nodded. She drew the Bloodhound’s Fang. Because they were touching, the cursed blade hummed with a mixture of her blue Vanguard aura and his golden, holy energy.

Donald didn’t count down. He just tightened his grip on her hand and unleashed his skill.

"[Bull Rush]!"

Donald drove his fist upward with the multiplied force of a freight train. He smashed right through the ceiling drywall and the hardwood floor of the penthouse. The ground exploded beneath Damian’s feet.

The A-Rank secretary had incredibly fast reflexes, but he hadn’t expected the attack to come from directly below his expensive shoes.

As the floor shattered, Evelyn launched herself up through the hole Donald created. Still holding Donald’s hand to maintain the synergy buff, she swung her sword in a brutal, upward arc, aiming right for Damian’s chest.

"[Crescent Slash]!"

The blinding blue-and-gold vacuum blade tore through the dust cloud.

Damian twisted his body violently backward. He moved fast enough to avoid being cut in half, but the spatial pressure of Evelyn’s strike clipped his chest. The heavy kinetic force sheared straight through his perfect charcoal suit jacket, slicing a shallow, bleeding line across his ribs and sending him tumbling backward across the living room.

Damian crashed into the glass coffee table, shattering it into a million pieces.

Donald vaulted up through the hole a second later, landing heavily beside Evelyn. He threw his free hand forward, fully prepared to deploy his [Shield of the Colossus] if Damian countered.

But Damian didn’t attack.

The bald secretary rolled to his feet, sliding backward until his back hit the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the bleeding cut on his chest, then up at Donald and Evelyn. His slanted eyes locked onto their joined hands, feeling the terrifying, localized heat of the holy mana radiating from Donald’s core.

Damian was an assassin, not a brawler. He thrived on silent kills and overwhelming ambushes. Trapped in a confined space with a fully-buffed Vanguard and a holy magic user, the math of the fight had just completely changed.

"Fascinating," Damian said, his voice completely calm despite the blood soaking his ruined shirt. "You didn’t run when you detected me, instead You flanked me, In your own home."

"Get out of my apartment," Evelyn snarled, gripping her sword tighter.

Damian reached up and adjusted his tie. "You’ve grown sharp, Evelyn. And you’ve found a very dangerous toy to play with. But fighting you here draws the police. And honestly, I loathe the paperwork."

Damian took a step backward. The glass window behind him groaned under the pressure of his A-Rank aura.

"Guild Master was right," Damian said, giving them a cold, mock bow. "You’re an injured tiger. But tigers still belong in cages. Enjoy the penthouse while you can. See you at the Gala."

With a flick of his wrist, Damian’s aura shattered the massive window behind him. The freezing night wind howled into the living room. Damian fell backward out of the fiftieth-story window, disappearing into the dark city skyline.

Donald rushed to the broken window, looking down. Damian was gone, having used some sort of artifact or spell to break his fall in the lower fog.

Donald let out a long, heavy breath and finally let go of Evelyn’s hand. The massive 300% buff faded from their systems, leaving them both breathing hard in the freezing wind.

Evelyn looked around the ruined living room. The floor had a massive hole in it, the coffee table was dust, and the wind was knocking over their expensive lamps.

"Well," Evelyn sighed, walking over and kicking a piece of broken glass. "So much for the deposit."

Donald reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the two silver VIP passes, holding them up in the moonlight. He looked at Evelyn, a reckless, tired smile on his face.

"Get your dress ready," Donald said. "We’ve got a party to crash."