Demonic Po*nstar System Chapter 688: Questioned

...

Association officers guided them along the distant edge of the ridge via a path cleared by enforcer squads amid the earlier shelling. Spots of stone remained heated where thermal powers had slain monsters, while the atmosphere bore the pungent scent of fractured stone and scorched exoskeletons.

Kaiden proceeded in the center of the group. His companions trailed after him, silent, their abilities subdued yet their aura undeniable. The foremost officer, the same woman who'd spoken to him atop the ridge, had remained wordless since departure. No words were required. The route was evident, the rhythm efficient, and no one feigned this journey as voluntary.

Midway down the descent, the sound of approaching steps reached them.

"Kaiden!"

Tessa's call struck him prior to her arrival. Nova Circuit's head rounded a curve in the path at a speed barely shy of a sprint, her face strained with the tension of a partner who'd observed events worsen from an unhelpful distance. Her two top aides accompanied her, both appearing eager to be elsewhere.

"I arrived right after learning of it." She matched his stride alongside and promptly faced the chief Association officer. "I'm Tessa, Guild Leader of Nova Circuit. Kaiden Grey fights beneath my partner's flag. I wish to attend any official sessions as the coalition's delegate."

The officer eyed her briefly. "I'll consult my higher-ups."

Tessa shifted back to Kaiden, her gaze conveying all the unspoken words amid Association staff. The concern. The irritation. The clear urge to position herself as a shield against impending trouble and debate until the red tape surrendered.

"It's okay, Tessa."

She blinked.

"I value your presence here." He voiced it plainly, using the inflection saved for those who'd truly won his esteem. "Thanks for constantly watching over me. But this will turn out alright."

She concealed no sorrow in her look, yet she dipped her head once and retreated, as Kaiden continued onward.

...

The Association had seized a forward base of operations featuring many tents at the ridge's foot. It was vast, army-grade, the sort erected in quarter-hour spans and capable of sheltering twelve individuals per tent with ease.

Within one tent, furnishings were reduced to basics: a table, a pair of chairs, a recording device on a tripod in the corner, and illumination that rendered all faces weary.

Kaiden's companions were told to remain outdoors. They weren't thrilled. Nyx offered the requesting officer a grin that prompted him to retreat a step.

"I'll be alright," Kaiden assured them. "Go relax. You've merited it."

They departed. Hesitantly, and not distant, but they left.

The tent entrance sealed after him, and Kaiden claimed the chair opposite the recorder. The seat was steel and unforgiving, typical of bureaucratic seating crafted by those unfamiliar with its use.

The entrance parted once more.

Eleanora Voss entered.

Kaiden identified her at once. Senior Director of the Awakened Association’s Competition Division. The figure overseeing the whole tournament framework, who appeared at lecterns dispensing judgments with the charm of an IRS review.

He'd encountered her image in transmissions, reports, and formal tournament missives, ever poised, ever exact, ever exuding the distinct command of one who'd never elevated her tone professionally.

Her appearance here, in a frontline tent on a ridge rather than at a central office desk, signaled that this probe wouldn't fall to junior clerks shuffling forms.

"Director Voss," Kaiden remarked. "I hadn't anticipated your direct involvement."

"An unaffiliated newcomer launches a rescue that slays several licensed fighters during a live feed viewed by millions." She placed a slim dossier on the table and settled opposite. "I rearranged my agenda."

’That’s reasonable,’ Kaiden mused.

He adjusted in his seat and braced for the initial assault. The charge, the chronology query, the subtle queries aimed to ensnare him in contradiction. He'd practiced responses during the downhill trek. Each element of the "rescue operation" account was solidified, unbreachable, set to emerge with the steady candor he'd employed on Magnus.

Eleanora flipped open the dossier. Scanned its pages. Shut it.

Then her eyes met his.

"How do you feel?"

Kaiden’s prepared poise faltered momentarily. It was subtly masked, but it did.

"How do I feel?"

"Yes."

He scrutinized her expression for deceit and detected none. Which implied either its absence or her superior skill.

"I feel... downcast," he replied cautiously. "Grieved by today's events. Even with our utmost attempts, injuries occurred. Had I possessed greater strength and accuracy in my recent spells, perhaps the side effects might have been prevented."

Eleanora observed his response with the focused tolerance of someone versed in numerous polished declarations over years.

Then she grinned.

It wasn't a diplomatic grin or a businesslike one or the minimal politeness elites exchange over such surfaces. It was weary and sincere, startling Kaiden more than any indictment possibly could.

"I once served as a frontline agent," she revealed. "Were you aware?"

"I wasn't."

"A few years back. Prior to this desk claiming me." She reclined slightly, the adjustment understated yet intentional, a figure shedding her role for a more intimate stance. "A-rank. Solid, not outstanding. I participated in three local campaigns and two international clashes before my child's birth."

She halted.

"His arrival made me review the desk's incident logs and pending assignments, pondering a son maturing motherless because she'd prioritized monster slaying over witnessing his first steps. Thus, I requested an office shift and never regretted it."

Kaiden attended.

"Yet even in my operational phase," Eleanora went on, "I encountered far less turmoil than the pandemonium trailing you. The intrigue, the undermining, the sect rivalries masked as rivalry. The sheer absurdity you've maneuvered through this past week would overwhelm most comrades from my service."

She interlaced her fingers on the surface.

"Thus, I'm not seeking your formal account now, Kaiden Grey. I'm inquiring of you, from one who grasps the toll of functioning under such strain: how do you feel?"

The ensuing quiet differed from ridge-top silences. Absent mana force. Absent vast audience. Merely a steel table in canvas and a woman granting unrequested leeway.

"You chose wisely," Kaiden stated.

Eleanora cocked her head.

"Your son," he explained. "Opting to stay present for him. Maturing without loving guardians can scar a youth profoundly and enduringly. Your awareness and tough decision deserve admiration."

The statement settled softly.

She regarded him briefly. The grin reemerged, subtler now.

"Thank you," she murmured.

A moment elapsed.

"May I fetch you something? Food, perhaps? You've spent the day battling foes in the field."

The phrase hovered centrally like a blade amid fluff.

Kaiden noted it. Acknowledged it. Stored it mentally.

"Given the basin's horrors, my appetite hasn't returned." He paused. "Though tea would be welcome, if available. Something soothing."

Eleanora’s gaze lingered on his a beat too long. Here, both knew plainly of Kaiden's ruthless eliminations.

Her grin held steady, yet acquired a nuance implying she discerned the act and, for her own motives, permitted its continuation.

"Certainly," she agreed, rising.

She approached a compact provisioning area at the tent's rear, where a kettle rested on a warming glyph beside basic containers and vessels. She chose a mix, portioned it methodically, and ignited the water.

Kaiden occupied his stiff steel seat watching the Senior Director of the Awakened Association’s Competition Division prepare his tea.

"Sugar?" she queried, back turned.

"I favor honey."

"Quite particular, aren't you." She peeked back. "You grasp we're in an intensely adversarial battle area, correct?"

"Does that imply no honey?"

"I didn't claim that."

She grinned and accessed a concealed tin. Within lay a petite jar of golden honey, a private stock carried from afar knowing standard supplies lacked it. She added a dollop to his mug and added the liquid, releasing aromas of chamomile and nectar into the space.

Kaiden observed her form as she mixed. The utensil tinkled softly on porcelain, a mundane noise amid an extraordinary day. Her actions were deliberate, unhurried, the ceremony of one who knew that easing a threat sometimes involved granting ease.

"You realize," she continued stirring, facing away, "that you've transformed your existence today. All will alter henceforth."

Kaiden eased into his seat.

"My existence is a perpetual, turbulent disorder."

"Indeed it is..."

Eleanora placed the utensil aside. Grasped the mug. Faced him. Grinned.

"Son of Vespera Ashborn."