Chapter 1561: The Ellusive Man II

The man seated behind the desk appeared strikingly young, perhaps only in his early thirties. Sleek blonde hair was combed neatly back from a sharply defined face, his blue eyes clear and observant beneath finely shaped brows. His hollow cheekbones gave his features a sculpted elegance, lending him a handsome yet faintly predatory charm.

He wore a dark blue suit layered over a simple white T-shirt, a combination that balanced casual confidence with calculated professionalism.

Raising one hand in a smooth, welcoming gesture, he said, "Please, have a seat." His tone was courteous, yet there lingered the faintest trace of arrogance in the way his gaze lingered over Lucas and his companions, measured, weighing, quietly assessing.

Lucas accepted the invitation without hesitation and took a seat across from the desk. Fargo and Fredhardt remained standing at his left and right, their silent presence unmistakably protective, like twin pillars guarding a throne.

Lucas’s expression remained gentle, composed, and almost disarmingly approachable. Yet beneath that calm warmth rested the quiet, unshakable poise of one born to nobility, an effortless authority woven into every glance and subtle movement; it all feel natural on him just like breathing.

Behind the desk, the Broker King studied them with quiet curiosity. The dark purple card bearing the Archknights’ insignia rested on the polished mahogany surface between them. He knew well how rare such a token was.

Across the vast and ruthless networks of the underworld, only a handful of individuals had ever been granted one, few enough to count on a single hand.

His fingers tapped lightly against the desk before he leaned back into his chair, a cunning smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"So," he began smoothly, his sharp gaze settling on Lucas, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mr...?"

Lucas did not answer the question. Instead, he steered the conversation directly toward its destination.

"I am aware the Black Market has placed a bounty on one of my important citizens—Mr. Zhao Li Xin and his wife."

The Broker King raised both hands in a casual, almost dismissive gesture. "You must understand," he said lightly, "it is simply business."

"Then I want you to annul the bounty placed on them," Lucas replied without hesitation.

Jasper’s eyes narrowed slightly, faint offense flickering across his composed expression. The Broker King, however, let out a short scoff before breaking into amused laughter.

"And why," he asked, leaning back into his chair with leisurely confidence, "do you believe I would agree to such a request?"

Lucas did not respond with words. Instead, he allowed his mana to seep outward, dissolving the effects of the Versipell potion that cloaked his form. The transformation unfolded in silence, subtle yet impossible to ignore. His true appearance surfaced like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.

Soon, the strands of his dark, bluish hair caught the chandelier’s golden light, shimmering with quiet luster. followed by a pair of beautiful violet eyes that were now settling upon the man behind the desk with a steady, unyielding authority.

Beside him, Fargo and Fredhardt allowed their disguises to fall away as well, revealing their true forms with equal calm.

’The Archknight!’

Jasper’s composure shattered in an instant. His eyes widened, disbelief flashing openly across his face as he instinctively took a half step back. Years of disciplined control faltered beneath the sheer presence that now filled the room.

The Broker King inhaled slowly, his expression shifting between shock and reluctant awe. For the first time, he found himself staring directly at the man whispered about in both royal courts and criminal syndicates alike, the elusive sovereign of Harland, the King who slew the Black Dragon, the one that bring back light to the world... also the last heir of the Lucient lineage.

His relaxed posture straightened almost reflexively. The casual arrogance faded, replaced by controlled caution.

"...King Lucas."

In contrast, Lucas grew visibly more relaxed. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning comfortably into the armchair, his arm resting lazily along its polished frame.

Yet the room felt heavier.

His sovereign aura unfurled in utter silence, pressing against the gilded walls, seeping into the marble floors, and coiling through the air like an invisible tide. The luxurious office, once resounding with extravagant opulence, now seemed to shrink beneath his dominion, its grandeur subdued by his mere presence.

"Is my request insufficient to sway your decision?" Lucas asked, his voice gentle and composed, yet carrying an unmistakable weight of authority that pressed upon the air like an unseen decree.

The Broker King’s fingers tightened around the armrest of his throne-like chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath his grip. For the briefest moment, his breath faltered, so slight it could have been mistaken for a mere adjustment in posture.

Yet the crushing weight settling over the room was undeniable. He felt it in his lungs, in the slow constriction of his chest, in the way the air itself seemed to thicken with every silent second Lucas remained standing before him.

Fear slithered along his spine like icy fingers. Even so, he had a reputation to uphold. How could he yield so easily? Even before the most powerful man in the world, pride rooted him firmly in place. To falter now would shatter the authority he had spent a lifetime forging.

Slowly, with deliberate control, he leaned back into the scarlet upholstery. His shoulders relaxed by sheer force of will, though tension still hummed beneath his skin. Lifting his chin, he met Lucas’ gaze, a stubborn glint burning within his eyes, refusing to yield.

"Well..." he began, his voice steady, though measured with careful restraint. "Surely, Your Majesty understands that your request is... far from simple."

The pause that followed hung heavy in the air, thick as molten gold.

"Every place has its rules, especially the underworld." The Broker King interlaced his fingers atop the desk, presenting an image of unwavering composure. "And one of our oldest laws dictates that once a contract is issued, it cannot be revoked. It can only end with the death of the target."

Lucas regarded him in silence for several long moments. Then, he straightened, his posture sharpening with quiet finality. ℴℴ𝗺

"Oh, Is that mean ’no?" Lucas asked. The softness of his voice carried a veiled threat that pressed against the room like an invisible blade.

Jasper swallowed unconsciously. His gaze drifted toward Fargo and Fredhardt, instinctively seeking the temperature of the storm gathering around them.

Fargo’s stillness disturbed him the most. The man appeared almost at ease, yet something sharp glimmered beneath that calm, like a blade concealed within velvet.

Fredhardt did not attempt to hide his reaction. His expression had hardened, lips drawn into a thin, unforgiving line. His fingers flexed once, slowly, as though restraining an impulse that threatened to surface.

Jasper’s heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum.

’This is bad,’ he thought grimly.

The pressure bore down on the Broker King like the slow descent of a mountain. Each breath he drew felt heavier than the last, as though the air itself had grown reluctant to enter his lungs.

He could feel it. The silent authority radiating from Lucas was not merely political power nor the threat of military might. It was something deeper, something primal, pressing against his survival instincts and whispering that defiance was foolish... that resistance was dangerous.

A bead of cold sweat traced a careful path down the side of his temple.

After a long moment, the Broker King finally spoke; after all, silence would be mistaken as surrender, and he could not let that happen.

"Your Majesty must understand," he continued, his voice carefully leveled, each word measured as though he were walking across thin ice. "This is not merely a matter of personal reasoning. The underworld functions upon a structure far more fragile than most would ever imagine. Trust is our only true currency. Without it... everything collapses."

He held Lucas’ gaze, refusing to look away even as the king’s presence bore down upon him, pressing against his composure like an invisible hand attempting to force him into submission.

"If I revoke a contract under pressure," he went on, allowing a faint, strained smile to ghost across his lips, "then every client I have ever served will begin to question my reliability. My own subordinates would doubt my judgment. And for someone who sits where I do..." He let the sentence linger, his jaw tightening. "...such doubt is not merely dangerous. It is fatal to my authority."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

He paused, steadying his breathing, though each inhale felt like dragging air through deep water.

"And when that happens," he continued at last, choosing his words with almost desperate precision, "hell will break loose. Disorder will spread like wildfire; it will be uncontrollable, chaotic, and devastating." His eyes sharpened slightly as he leaned forward, just enough to emphasize his next words.

"Surely, Your Majesty would not wish to see such chaos spill beyond my domain... and reach your kingdom as well." The statement lingered in the air, delicately balanced between explanation... and warning.

Fredhardt’s expression darkened, the shift subtle yet unmistakable. The faint civility that once veiled his features fractured, revealing something far harsher beneath, something raw and dangerously close to violence.

Beside him, Fargo’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk. His eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, like a hunter watching wounded prey stubbornly convince itself it could still escape the inevitable.

Lucas exhaled. The sigh was soft, almost weary, yet it seemed to drain the warmth from the room. He turned his gaze toward the towering glass wall overlooking the casino floor below. The dazzling lights flickered across his profile, painting his expression in shifting gold and shadow.

So... shall I take that as your final decision?" Lucas asked quietly, though danger flickered within the depths of his gaze.

The Broker King held his stare, his voice steady despite the tension tightening around him. "Yes."

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the atmosphere inside the room shifted. The air grew unnaturally thin, yet unbearably heavy at the same time, pressing against skin and lungs, like an invisible weight settled over their chest.

Lucas’ violet eyes shimmered. For the briefest instant, they blazed with a radiant glow that pierced through the dimmed light of the chamber. Without warning, brilliance erupted from within him.

Two immense swords materialized beside him. The swords hovered beside Lucas, suspended in the air like celestial sentinels awaiting their sovereign’s command. The light radiating from them pulsed softly, casting long, trembling shadows across the ruined office.

Time seemed to slow. No one breathed. No one moved. Even the drifting dust appeared to hang motionless in the air, as though the world itself hesitated to witness what would come next.

Lucas slowly raised his hand. His movement was calm and unhurried, then he clenched his palm into a fist.

In a second, the swords answered, and light erupted, expanding outward in blinding brilliance that swallowed the room whole. The energy gathered along their edges, compressing into a searing glow before detonating forward in twin streaks of annihilating radiance.

Silence stretched...then the world broke.

BOOM.

The explosion struck like a collapsing star. An invisible force ripped through the office in a violent tidal wave. The gold-trimmed furniture shattered in midair, shattering into shards that swirled and scattered like shrapnel.

The chandelier shattered, and even the reinforced glass walls shattered with an ear-splitting roar. Thousands of sharp shards flew into the open air, scattering like a storm of diamonds across the floors below.

It didn’t take long before the chaos erupted.