Chapter 53: Thirty Percent

After Zephyra went back inside, Evren pulled out his phone on the terrace and called Mikay.

"Boss?" Mikay answered on the first ring.

"Pull all the operational files on the Sector One mana crystal mines," Evren said. "Have a car ready. We’re going there this afternoon."

"Right away, Boss."

Two hours later, a black SUV pulled up to the gate of the Sector One mining valley.

The area was surrounded by tall gray cliffs. Dust filled the air, and the loud rumble of old machinery echoed off the stone walls. Trucks carrying rough blue ore drove slowly along the dirt roads.

Evren and Mikay got out of the car and walked toward the small concrete site office.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in a yellow hard hat and a dirty coat walked out to meet them. His face was covered in rock dust, and he had a deep scar across his left eyebrow.

"Boss, this is Garon," Mikay said, gesturing toward the man. "He’s been the chief site supervisor here for twelve years under the Prescott family."

Garon looked at Evren’s clean clothes, then gave a stiff, reluctant nod.

"You’re the new owner from Apex," Garon said in a deep, rough voice. "I got the city notice this morning. What do you want to change? Are you firing people?"

"I’m not firing anyone," Evren said calmly. "Let’s see the numbers first. Take us inside."

Garon blinked, looking slightly surprised, then led them into the dusty office. He threw a thick stack of paper logs and an old data pad onto the wooden desk.

Evren sat down in a creaky chair and pulled the files closer. For the next hour, he and Mikay went through every single page.

The numbers told a clear story.

There were two hundred miners working here. Most of them worked fourteen-hour shifts in deep, poorly ventilated tunnels. The heavy drill rigs were over eight years old, constantly overheating and breaking down.

Worst of all, their wages hadn’t been raised a single cent in four years.

"Lord Prescott kept costs as low as possible," Garon grunted, crossing his thick arms. "When a machine broke, we patched it with scrap metal. If a man got sick from the dust, he got replaced."

Evren turned to the last page of the report. "What about the refined crystal shipments?"

Garon let out a bitter laugh.

"That’s the real mess," Garon said, pointing out the window at a long metal warehouse. "We dig the raw ore out of the rock, but it has to be smelted into pure mana crystals before anyone can use it. Lord Prescott owns seventy percent of the smelting foundries in Sector Four. As of eight o’clock this morning, his managers paused all our processing contracts."

Mikay frowned. "So our raw ore is trapped."

"Exactly," Garon nodded. "We have five hundred crates of high-grade raw crystal sitting in that warehouse. Without foundries to melt and purify it, it’s just glowing rock."

Evren closed the folder and set it on the desk. He didn’t look worried at all.

"Garon," Evren said, looking the supervisor straight in the eye.

"Yeah?"

"Starting today, every miner’s wage goes up by thirty percent," Evren said.

Garon stared at him in complete disbelief. "Thirty percent?"

"Yes," Evren continued smoothly. "And shift hours are capped at eight hours maximum. Order ten brand-new heavy drill rigs from the best supplier in the city, and get a team to replace the entire air ventilation system in the lower shafts."

Garon’s mouth fell open. He looked at Mikay, then back at Evren.

"Chairman... that kind of overhaul is going to cost at least twelve million dollars upfront if not more," Garon stammered. "And what about the ore? Prescott is trying to choke us out."

Evren pulled out his phone and opened his Apex VIP banking app.

"What’s the site’s registered operating account?" Evren asked, looking down at the files.

Garon quickly pointed a calloused finger to the account number stamped at the top of the official mine registry document on the desk.

Evren typed in the numbers, confirmed the wire transfer with his thumbprint, and set the phone face-up on the wood.

Three seconds later, Garon’s old data pad on the desk lit up with a loud chime.

Ding!

[APEX NATIONAL BANK: DIRECT WIRE TRANSFER CONFIRMED]

[AMOUNT: $15,000,000.00 USD]

[CREDITED TO: SECTOR 1 MINING OPERATIONS & WAGE RESERVE]

Garon stared at the glowing green notification, his hands trembling so hard he almost dropped his hard hat. In twelve years of working under the Prescott family, he had to beg for three months just to get fifteen thousand dollars for replacement drill bits.

Now, fifteen million dollars of liquid cash was sitting directly in their site operating account.

"Let me worry about the money and the foundries," Evren said with a faint smile. "Your job is to make sure your men are safe and the drills keep turning. Nobody loses their job here unless they want to leave of their own accord."

Evren turned and walked out of the office with Mikay.

Garon stood frozen by the desk for a long moment. Then, he ran to the door and watched the black SUV drive down the mountain path.

Outside the office, several miners had gathered around to hear what happened.

"Boss Garon?" one of the young drillers asked nervously. "Are we getting fired? Is the mine shutting down?"

Garon took off his hard hat, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and let out a long breath. "No," he said in a slightly shaky voice, still in shock. "We’ve got a real boss now. Get back to work. We’re getting new rigs."

—

Late that afternoon, Evren returned to Imperial Crest Manor.

He took a hot shower to wash off the mine dust, changed into a clean gray t-shirt and sweatpants, and walked out onto the third-floor terrace with a glass of iced lemon water.

He sat back on the cushioned lounge chair, looking out over the quiet hills and the distant city skyline. The warm breeze felt good against his skin, and the house was completely peaceful.

Evren took a slow sip from his glass, but as he stared at the horizon, his mind drifted back to the dark rift from two nights ago.

He remembered the roar of the rift boss, the collapsing purple caverns, and the split-second when that deadly scythe came straight for his chest.

Amber had thrown herself in front of him.

Her dragon-bone wings had shattered under the blast, and her limp body had slid toward the bottomless pit.

Evren looked down at his own right hand.

He had survived that fight because of his S-Rank Titan body and raw luck. But in truth, his combat technique had been clumsy. He had been slow to react, planted his feet like a heavy stone, and forced Amber to throw herself into harm’s way to save him.

And things were only going to get more dangerous.

Four S-Rank rifts had already appeared across the country in sixty days. The dimensional walls were thinning, stronger monsters were coming, and walking into the Imperial Capital with enemies like Varek Drossian lurking in the background meant he couldn’t afford to be careless.

If trouble broke out, swinging wildly with brute force wasn’t going to be enough. He needed to actually know how to fight.

Evren set his glass down on the small table. He couldn’t just sit here and relax. He stood up, walked down the stairs, and headed out to the wide stone training courtyard behind the manor.

The courtyard was lined with weapon racks and stone training pillars.

Evren closed his eyes and summoned his Frost-Bane Cleaver from his spatial ring. The black-and-silver blade appeared in his right hand, glowing with a faint blue mist.

He took a stance and swung the blade hard at a thick wooden training post.

CRACK!

The wooden post snapped completely in half, splintering into pieces that flew across the stone floor.

His strength was terrifying. But as Evren stepped back and tried a series of quick sword strikes, his movement felt... awkward. Every time he swung, he leaned too far forward. His footwork was clunky, and his balance was sloppy.

He was fighting like a street brawler with god-like strength.

"You drop your right shoulder every single time," a voice called out from the terrace above.

Evren lowered his sword and looked up.

Amber was standing by the stone railing. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a black tank top, with her dark hair tied back in a high ponytail. She held a cold bottle of water in one hand.

She walked down the stone stairs into the courtyard.

"What do you mean?" Evren asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"I mean you swing that cleaver like a sledgehammer," Amber said, walking up to him.

She reached out and tapped the back of his right shoulder with her fingers, pushing it up. Then she nudged his back heel with the toe of her sneaker.

"Your feet are too wide. You put all your weight on your front leg before you even start the swing. In a dark rift against dumb beasts, raw power works fine. But what happens when the next rift throws an agile boss at you? Or when someone in the Capital tries to test you?"

Amber shook her head.

"They’ll read your shoulder drop in half a second," she said. "They’ll sidestep, take your arm off, and you won’t even see the blade."

Evren looked at his sword, then gave a dry chuckle. "I guess I never had someone teach me."

Amber’s eyes softened. She walked over to the wooden weapon rack and picked up a light practice saber.

She turned back to face him, holding the wooden blade casually at her side.

"Well, you have a teacher now," Amber smiled. "Raise your guard. Let’s start with basic footwork."