The vast warehouse space was quiet, save for the ragged sound of Olt’s breathing and the low, angry muttering emanating from Carl Winger. Ganjo and Rebecca carefully helped Olt into a sitting position on the concrete floor. Mariah knelt beside him. Her hands faintly shined with a blue light, as she hovered over his chest and neck. She assessed his condition. Fiona stood a few feet away, breathing steadily, while wiping a smudge of dust from her dark combat pants.

  Carl Winger’s muttering grew louder with indignation. "Twenty-five thousand," he seethed, his face still stained with dried blood. "This is robbery! You can't just do this! This isn't over!"

  Veronica turned to Carl, as her expression hardened. She cut through his protests like a chilled blade.

  "Mr. Winger, I’m warning you…control yourself. I’m being quite fair. I could have demanded the forty thousand Mr. Bartholomew argued for. Consider the fifteen thousand dollar difference a small price for your cooperation."

  Her tone left no room for argument. Carl visibly shrank back in his chair, rubbing his temples again. Defeated resentment settled over his features, as he glared at the floor, knowing he was trapped.

  Fiona walked over towards Olt and the group. Her movements were smooth, though a slight stiffness in her left ankle was barely perceptible. She stopped near Olt, looking down at him with a professional, almost curious expression.

  "Are you alright? That was unexpected."

  She offered a small, respectful nod.

  "You got courage. And for someone with no experience, your litigation was impressive."

  Her gaze flickered to where Olt’s left hand lay.

  "Your Aether, it's peculiar. Only the arm? I've never seen that manifestation before."

  Fiona paused, then added, "Your power is localized in one place. But, when you used it, it felt stronger than a typical Level 1 user. Much stronger."

  Olt, still dazed and wincing as Mariah gently probed his ribs, looked up at Fiona.

  "Level 1? What does that mean? Stronger how?"

  He tried to push himself up a little further, the effort making him grimace.

  Fiona looked surprised by his questions.

  "You, you don't know? Aether users are typically categorized by level based on their control and output. Level 1 users usually amplify their base physical strength by about one and a half times. But your hits, even that glancing punch, felt like at least double your base strength. Maybe more."

  She looked genuinely puzzled.

  "The power levels are usually irrelevant in field work, but in the ring, they’re significant. If you choose to go the martial advocacy route, it will definitely be something to behold.”

  Fiona relaxed her shoulders.

  “Like I said, you were impressive.” Then, as she made a playful smile, she added, “for someone who doesn't even know the basics of Aether mechanics."

  Mariah, still gently assessing Olt’s bruised ribs, chimed in.

  "Yeah, I’m trying to better understand it myself. We might know why it could explain the localized manifestation. But the strength anomaly, amplifying beyond the standard Level 1 ratio, that's fascinating. It's contradictory, for sure."

  Mariah looked from Olt's hand to Fiona. Her eyes were wide with the spark of scientific possibility.

  Ganjo, ever the opportunist, saw Veronica watching this exchange intently. He stepped forward, his chest puffing out slightly, and looked directly at Veronica.

  "See, Veronica? I told you. This kid's exactly what we need. Raw talent. Untapped potential." He gestured towards Olt, then Rebecca. "We've got the brains," he said, nodding towards Rebecca, "the brawn," with a subtle nod to himself and a quick, appraising glance at Fiona, "and now, the wild card," he finished, gesturing towards Olt. "This is the team you need. We're not just experienced; we're unique."

  Veronica watched the interaction. She had a calculating look on her face. She observed Olt's strange power, Fiona's professional assessment, Mariah's burgeoning theories, and Ganjo's confident pitch. As a negotiator, she needed to weigh the potential against the undeniable risk. Finally, she gave a brief, decisive nod.

  "Alright."

  She turned her attention to Carl Winger, who was still slumped in his chair, radiating sullen defeat.

  "Mr. Winger, you are free to go. My team will escort you and ensure your safe return. We will be in contact about your compliance with the agreed-upon settlement."

  Veronica clapped loudly. From a shadowed area near the warehouse entrance, Chloe and another operative, a man with a similarly impassive demeanor, appeared. With her usual bubbly energy, Chloe grinned.

  "Wow, that was way more entertaining than my usual Tuesday night! You guys really know how to put on a show!"

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Despite her cheerful commentary, she moved with surprising efficiency, grabbing Carl Winger by the arm with a grip that made him wince. Chloe and her partner began to lead the protesting Winger away. He muttered one last, futile protest about lawyers and injustice, but his voice was lost as they guided him towards the exit.

  Ganjo watched them go, as a sarcastic smirk played on his lips. He turned to Veronica.

  "You must know about everyone in this city, keeping goons at every corner like that."

  Veronica offered a small, enigmatic smile.

  "Something like that."

  Fiona, looking tired but still composed, approached Veronica.

  "If my part in this is concluded, I'd like to dismiss myself."

  Veronica nodded.

  "Agreed, Fiona. You performed admirably. Get some rest. I'll need you sharp."

  Once Winger and Fiona were gone, Veronica turned back to Olt, Ganjo, Rebecca, Mariah, and Lyona, who had approached cautiously. She showed a mixture of gratitude and lingering apprehension. Now that the mock trial was over, Veronica's demeanor shifted, becoming less about the test and more about the mission ahead.

  "The test is concluded. You have demonstrated sufficient capability and some interesting capabilities."

  She gestured towards a less damaged area of the warehouse, where a few sturdy chairs still stood upright around a makeshift table.

  "Let's move. It's time we discussed the actual purpose of all this - what we are truly up against."

  …

  The immediate aftermath of the Trial by Combat was a flurry of hushed activity. Ganjo and Mariah carefully helped Olt to a less damaged area of the warehouse floor, near the makeshift table and chairs. He groaned softly as Ganjo eased him into a sitting position against a support column. Olt was still pale, his breathing still shallow, and a sheen of cold sweat covered his forehead. Mariah knelt beside him, her hands, still faintly glowing gently over his ribs and neck. Rebecca stood nearby, her arms crossed, watching Olt with undisguised concern. Lyona approached cautiously, her hands clasped before her.

  Mariah finally sat back, the glow in her hands fading.

  "Okay, most of the serious damage is patched up," she said, her voice a little strained. "But you'll still need some rest and maybe some standard pain meds for the soreness."

  She pushed herself up, rubbing her temples.

  "Whew, that took more out of me than I expected. I definitely need to start training my healing abilities again if this is going to be our new normal."

  She glanced at Olt, then at Ganjo and Rebecca. There was a weary but resolute look in her eyes.

  Veronica took a slow sip of her amber drink, watching the group. She set her glass down on the makeshift table with a soft click. It made a sound that vibrated slightly across the open space. She seemed ready to begin her post-trial assessment and outline the next steps. But before Veronica could speak, Rebecca stepped forward. Her posture was firm, as she displayed a determined expression. Addressing Veronica directly, Rebecca cut through the eerie quiet.

  "Ms. Guzman…Veronica, we understand the situation is severe, and we're willing to help you. We've proven that today."

  Rebecca paused, as her eyes swept over Olt, who was now leaning heavily against the column. Then, she returned her attention back to Veronica.

  "But we also need your help. Things have escalated recently. Attacks on us and on our families."

  Rebecca tightened with controlled anger as she briefly recounted Alonso Gijon's attack on her home and the red-haired woman's assault on Olt's family in Hooma.

  Rebecca shifted her worn leather bookbag from her shoulder, unbuckling the flap. She pulled out a thick bundle of documents, their edges slightly frayed.

  "We understand nothing is for free," she continued, her eyes locking with Veronica's. "We believe this information is valuable. It details Hadic's manipulation of the Synoro Debt Relief Act and the GEM loan program. It also shows how certain individuals, like my sister, Olivia, and fronts like Mr. Winger profited immensely from it."

  She held the documents out towards Veronica, a clear offer.

  Veronica took the documents from Rebecca, her expression unreadable at first. She flipped through a few pages quickly, as her eyes scanned the dense text and figures. A subtle twitch of recognition, or perhaps intrigued interest, crossed her face. She maintained her composure, however, as her features only demonstrated a cool assessment.

  "Rebecca Santander," Veronica said with a slight, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "It seems you were indeed ready. Or at least, you came prepared…it seems."

  The deliberate pause before the final "it seems" added a layer of her usual mysteriousness. It hinted that while the information was undoubtedly valuable, perhaps she already knew some of it, or it was merely another piece of a much larger, more complex puzzle she was assembling.

  Veronica set the documents aside on the makeshift table. Chloe, having returned silently after escorting Winger out, stepped forward and discreetly took the bundle. Veronica then reached into an inside pocket of her leather jacket and produced a large, crisp manila envelope.

  "Preparedness is admirable," Veronica continued, holding up the envelope. "And as I said, I help those who help me." She looked directly at Olt, who was now sitting up straighter, though still leaning against the column for support. "Mr. Bartholomew, I believe these belong to your family."

  She opened the envelope and pulled out several passports. They were new and official-looking. Their covers were a deep, unassuming blue.

  Olt stared at the passports, utterly surprised.

  "The…the passports? But we didn't- my family didn't finish the paperwork. We didn't give it to Ganjo. We got distracted because of the attack.”

  He looked confused, then a flicker of suspicion crossed his face.

  “How?”

  Veronica smiled, slowly. It held a hint of undeniable power.

  "Official channels are often inefficient, Olt. And paperwork can be circumvented." She gestured with the passports. "Consider this a demonstration of my capabilities. Of what my network and resources can offer you. I have the means to acquire what you need, without the usual red tape."

  She held the passports for a moment, letting the significance of her actions sink in. She looked from Olt's surprised face to Rebecca's intense, appraising gaze. Then, she looked at Ganjo. He was obviously surprised, but his eyes could not hide the grudging respect he felt. Veronica finally looked at Mariah, who was watching with wide, curious eyes.

  "You need answers about these attacks," Veronica stated, becoming serious and direct, the earlier playfulness gone. "About Alonso Gijon, about the woman who attacked your family, Olt."

  She gestured with the passports again, then tucked them back into the envelope, holding it out towards Olt.

  "I promised to help you if you help me. This is how I start."

  Looking at the group, Veronica’s tone sharpened.

  "I can explain what was behind those attacks. I can tell you why they happened. And who’s truly targeting you."