Rahul Sharma keeps watching me with those judging eyes.

I hold my poker face. I don’t want him reading my plan—I already have everything mapped out. I didn’t know the Crime King would simply show up. But I knew that coming to the Oathring would draw attention, and I was prepared for that.

"I’m not challenging you, Mister Sharma. Not in the slightest. I’m proposing a business arrangement. You invest in me, and we both make money."

"You’re awfully confident for a mere Rank D standing in front of a King. What are you scheming?"

Rahul crouches and studies my shoes, analyzing every curve of them. Then he does the same thing rising slowly, eyes tracking up the full length of the Horizon armor.

"There are no traps. What could a mere Rank D possibly do against a future Rank SSS?"

I drop the bait. I know Rahul Sharma’s future. It sounds like flattery, but the truth of it will absolutely soften his ego. Anyone who titles himself a King is starving for worship, and I just served him a plate.

"Future Rank SSS?" Rahul looks visibly pleased. A wide smile opens across his face, and he glances around as if seeking approval from his followers for what I just said. They immediately nod back at him in agreement. "That sounded extremely welcome, boy. I like you. Let’s do business." He extends his hand.

’Some people genuinely don’t deserve the talent they were given.’

A man this powerful, this sharp, this capable of reading a stranger’s shoes for tells—and the fastest road into him is still his own vanity. The Deepwarden built half its alliances on exactly this.

Find the ego. Feed the ego. Own the man.

"Done, Mister Sharma. I won’t disappoint you." I shake his hand.

As we’re turning to leave, Rahul hooks deeper.

"You think that’s all?"

’Shit.’

"What’s your name, partner?"

"My name is Dryden. Dryden Sands, sir."

’I can’t lie about this if he has some recon class among his followers.’

"Right, Dryden Sands... hm... a Sands... who would have thought..." Rahul says it slowly, then extends his open hand, palm up, and conjures a fully written contract out of nothing—already drafted, every clause of what was said laid out in clean script. Probably part of those abilities of his that have stayed unknown for so long.

I read it.

OCEAN’S LAW BINDING AGREEMENT — registered Parties: Rahul Sharma (Patron) and Dryden Sands (Contractor)

1. The Contractor shall deliver to the Patron no less than thirty percent (30%) additional profit on every bout fought under this agreement.

2. The combined house yield across all bouts must exceed a total of one (1) Plate Scale.

3. Should the Contractor succeed, he shall receive twenty (20) Shards as settlement.

4. Should the Contractor fail, he shall suffer OXI Bleeding and a penalty of one (1) Plate Scale.

5. Should the Contractor be unable to pay one (1) Plate Scale, he shall submit himself to the Patron as an indentured servant until the debt is cleared.

The contract is extravagantly exploitative. On top of putting on a show, I have to actively generate more money for him—plus thirty percent of every fight’s earnings. We literally have to make a spectacle of ourselves. And if the combined yield falls even a Shard short of one Plate Scale, the penalty isn’t a fine. It’s OXI Bleeding and a debt that, if I can’t pay it, turns me into Rahul Sharma’s property.

He didn’t draft this to be fair. He drafted it because he expects me to fail, and a failed Dryden Sands working off a debt inside the Patala Syndicate is worth more to him than twenty Shards ever could be.

But of course he didn’t know I have 1 plate with me right now. No one would expect a Rank D to have one Plate Scale.

’How I wish little Lola were here. She really knows how to put on a show, even when she isn’t trying to.’

I prepare my Diver Mark and touch it to Rahul’s contract. I remember my first time using the Diver Mark, in another life. I remember the person who walked me through it, patient, correcting the angle of my hand—

The memory pulls a sigh out of me before I notice it leaving. A careful hand holding mine as I sign.

’Forget it. Better not to bring it back...’

"What is that, Dryden?" Rhayne asks, almost whispering it against my shoulder. Even so, Rahul’s eyes flick to her.

But I answer openly. I don’t mind. It might even read as leadership to Rahul.

"The Diver Mark is basically a fingerprint, Thirstfall-style. It’s a signature every Diver carries, since drafting contracts under the Ocean’s Law is a bureaucracy the system permits."

"How thoughtful," Rahul says, watching our exchange.

"I take care of the ones who take care of me."

He gives me a small corner-of-the-mouth smile. He caught the message clearly. ’If he looks after me, I look after him.’

The contract folds down to a minimum size and vanishes. My HUD displays ’Contract accepted — open message to view.’ But I ignore it. I don’t need to read it twice. The clauses are already memorized, and there is exactly one way this ends well: we win, all of it, decisively.

"It’s done," Rahul says.

I look at the Oathring and then at Oliver besides me. He is already rolling his shoulder, hammer shifting into his grip.

Rhayne is on standby, waiting for any order.

Veric, blood still drying on his face, is grinning wide—it seems like he’s just realized the morning has a second act, and he wants to be in it.

Three fights. One Plate Scale to clear. A thirty percent cut bleeding off the top of every win. And a Crime King watching the whole thing, waiting to collect a person if the math comes up short.

I let a slow breath out and let one corner of my own mouth lift. The pressure doesn’t bother me. Pressure is just a problem with a deadline attached, and I’ve been solving those for thirty years.

"With your leave, sir. We have a few fights to turn into money."

I step toward the perimeter pillars. Behind me, I can feel Rahul settle back into his wheelchair, the glass cane tapping its slow rhythm against the stone. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

The crowd is already finding its voice again.

’Showtime.’