"The Flexible Vilin."

  Markus didn't bother responding to Aryan’s insults. He simply stood up, the gss floor rippling beneath his boots.

  Amara cut through the tension. "What do you know about the cure? Let's get to the point. Forget the history and the Seals for now. Where? How? How fast? That is all that matters."

  "Good. Pragmatism suits you," Markus said.

  He lifted his hand, fingers tracing an intricate arc in the air.

  "I will upload the Forbidden Arts directly into your Systems. You don't have time for lectures. Whenever you encounter a hurdle, your Systems will instruct you as if I were there myself."

  As he spoke, the air around the siblings distorted. Beads of sweat from their foreheads, the faint aura of leaking Dark Matter, and two drops of blood from each of their wounds floated into the air. Markus mixed them with their exhaled breath, weaving the biological material into a shimmering, rainbow-colored archway.

  "When I said this was 'interesting,' I meant it," Markus said, admiring his handiwork. "Only a high-level entity like myself could utilize your own biological waste to bridge the gap to your cure. You just need to pass through this portal. That is it. You will arrive."

  He turned to them, his expression hardening.

  "But there is a price you must pay. Non-negotiable."

  "This again," Aryan groaned, rubbing his temples. "How can you be such a persistent vilin?"

  "What is it?" Amara demanded, eyeing the swirling portal. "Cut to the chase. We have no other option. You clearly don't pn on letting us negotiate."

  "Good," Markus smiled, a sharp, dangerous expression. "I am a flexible Vilin."

  He held his hand in the empty air. Golden particles coalesced, forming a sheet of parchment that glowed with binding magic. He floated it toward them.

  "Sign this."

  Aryan grabbed the paper and read it aloud, his voice growing tighter with every word.

  "SOUL CONTRACT."

  "I, Aryan, and I, Amara, hereby vow that in any timeline, under any circumstance, we shall never take the life of Monarch Markus. In exchange, Monarch Markus grants us passage to the location of the Cure for the 44-Day Ultimatum."

  Aryan clenched his jaw, staring at the Monarch.

  "By now, I have no words left," Aryan spat. "Monarch, this is practically a death warrant. You are ensuring your safety because you know what you are doing to us is unforgivable."

  "You say we can't kill you?" Amara asked, her eyes narrowing. "How come? You act as if you fear no one. Why do you need a piece of paper to protect you from two dying 'weaklings'?"

  "I told you, I am flexible," Markus shrugged. "I won't bore you with my philosophy. You will understand why I need this insurance once you reach your destination."

  He pointed to the line at the bottom.

  "Now sign. No negotiations. Or you can simply stay here and die."

  Aryan and Amara looked at each other. Their bodies were screaming in pain, their legs trembling, but they stood up, supporting each other’s weight. They looked like a single, battered entity.

  They turned to Markus, matching his gaze with equal intensity.

  "Let us add one cuse," they said in unison.

  Markus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  "If you ever decide to kill us," Aryan said coldly.

  "Don't leave one of us intact," Amara finished.

  "Because if you leave one of us alive," they said together, "we won't mind becoming Hell itself to drag you down with us."

  Markus stared at them for a second. Then, he threw his head back and ughed.

  "HAHAHAHA!"

  The sound reverberated through the Gss Pace, shaking the walls. If he hadn't dismissed the powerless staff earlier, the sheer sonic resonance would have killed them.

  "Interesting! As you like it!" Markus swiped his finger, adding their cuse to the golden paper. "Signed and sealed."

  The contract dissolved into light, entering their chests. The deal was struck.

  "But..." Markus raised one finger, his smile turning cruel. "There is one final toll to pay."

  He pointed at the rainbow portal.

  "Teleportation across this distance taxes the body. As soon as you step into it... you will lose 3 days of your life expectancy."

  A bomb dropped on them. 44 days just became 41.

  Amara and Aryan clenched their fists, their nails biting into their skin. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was Markus.

  "It is much better than not knowing anything," Aryan said through gritted teeth. "You said we will reach the destination perfectly, right?"

  "Indeed," Markus confirmed.

  "That is good then," Aryan said, gripping Amara’s hand tighter. "Something is better than nothing."

  Amara nodded.

  "The Unwanted Escort."

  They both stepped toward the shimmering rainbow portal, ready to accept the cost.

  "Wait."

  The voice cut through the air. It belonged to Hunter Eight.

  Aryan and Amara turned their gaze toward the source of the sound. It wasn't just Hunter Eight standing there. Emerging from the periphery of the vast hall were the others. Seven more figures.

  The entire squad was present.

  Aryan looked from the eight elites to the Monarch. "What does this mean?"

  "They will come with you," Markus said simply.

  Amara raised an eyebrow, her expression sharpening.

  "We already signed the deal," Aryan said, his voice hard. "What is this now? Changing the terms?"

  "This isn't for me," Markus replied, his tone dismissive of their suspicion. "It is for all of you. The pce you will be going to now... no one has any idea what lies inside. It is uncharted."

  He looked at the dying duo.

  "You don't have years to finish this. And I need to get the most out of my investment. I will not have you dying in a trap before you even reach the cure."

  He turned away, his cape swirling as he prepared to vanish.

  "Your mission and the particurs... you will know soon enough. Be careful. Don't die and make my investment unworthy."

  Markus’s figure began to blur, dissolving into the air. His final command echoed through the empty space.

  "You have one hour to depart."

  That was it. He was gone, leaving no trace behind, vanishing as if he had never been there at all.