Chapter 37: The Parting

Sunlight cut through the curtains like a blade.

I woke up in my own bed. Last time, probably. The sheets smelled like coffee grounds and steel polish. Familiar dents marked the headboard where Valeria’s sword hilt had connected during that one “demonstration.” The room felt too big. Too empty.

Downstairs hummed with activity. Trunks thumped against wood floors. Drawers scraped open and shut. The guild hall was packing itself up, organizing chaos into neat stacks that meant nothing.

I dressed in the travel coat. Grabbed the folder. Took one last look at the room that had survived three apocalypses and one particularly bad curry night.

Coffee waited downstairs. Black. Strong. My chipped mug sat on the counter like it knew this was goodbye.

“Morning.”

Valeria glanced up from securing a trunk. Her armor gleamed. Every buckle tight. Every blade sharp. She moved like violence waiting for permission.

“Slept?”

“Minimally.”

Elara hovered near the kitchen table. Her hands twisted a cleaning rag into knots. Eyes red-rimmed but dry. Barely holding the pieces together.

Seraphina cataloged gear against an inventory list. Her silver hair caught morning light. Voice calm. Already calculating new rules.

“Everything’s accounted for. Weapons racked. Research materials secured. Elara’s… indulgences relocated to the basement.”

The front door knocked. Official rhythm. Three sharp raps.

“He’s early.”

Valeria’s hand drifted toward her sword.

“Let him knock again.”

The knock repeated. More insistent.

I opened the door.

Victor stood there with two Guild Association clerks. Documents in hand. Armor polished to mirror shine. Smile practiced. Confident.

“Guild Master Rian. Official transfer time.”

He stepped inside without waiting for invitation. Eyes scanning the common room. Inventorying trunks. Noticing blade racks. Pausing at the burn marks on the ceiling.

“Impressive setup.”

“Functional.”

The clerks set up a folding table. Spread documents. Official stamps everywhere.

“Standard procedure. Read aloud for the record.”

Victor cleared his throat. Voice carrying formal weight.

“By order of the Guild Association Council, effective immediately, Guild Master Victor of Apex Blade assumes administrative authority over Crimson Rose guild and all associated assets, personnel, and operational protocols. Guild Master Rian transfers to Apex Blade pending evaluation completion.”

He looked up. Smile widening.

“Straightforward.”

“Thrilling.”

Valeria watched him from across the room. Red eyes unblinking. Hand resting casually on sword hilt. Casual meant dangerous.

Victor noticed. Extended a hand.

“Guild Master Valeria. I’ve followed your combat record. Looking forward to working together.”

She stared at the hand. Didn’t move.

“Working together.”

Her voice was flat. Testing.

“Absolutely. Your skills will complement Apex Blade’s structure perfectly.”

Elara edged forward. Rag still twisting in her hands.

“What about Guild Master Rian.”

Victor’s smile flickered.

“He’s taking my guild. Temporary reassignment. You’ll see him around.”

“Will we.”

Seraphina set down her clipboard. Glided forward. Perfect posture. Angelic smile.

“I can explain how things work here.”

Victor’s attention snapped to her. Pupils dilating slightly. Caught off-guard by silver hair and calculating eyes.

“Excellent. Operational briefings are crucial for smooth transitions.”

She tilted her head. Smile sharpening.

“Crucial.”

I stepped between them. Time to end this.

“Sign here. Initial there. Transfer complete.”

Pens scratched paper. Clerks stamped documents. Victor signed with flourish.

“Official.”

He handed me my copy. Already envisioning his future headlines.

The clerks packed up. Left without another word.

Victor turned to the team. Chest out. Voice bright.

“Right. First things first. Team meeting in ten. Common room. We’ll establish chain of command, review protocols, set expectations.”

Valeria’s fingers tightened on her sword. Leather creaked.

Elara’s rag tore audibly.

Seraphina’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

I grabbed my travel bag. Minimal weight. Coffee mug inside. Folder tucked under arm.

Time.

I caught Valeria’s eye first.

“Don’t kill him. Seriously. I don’t want paperwork.”

Her jaw clenched. Vulnerability flickered. Gone in seconds.

“Understood.”

Then Elara.

“It’s not abandonment. I’ll still be in the city.”

She nodded. Fast. Desperate. Tears threatening again.

“Okay.”

Seraphina last.

“Don’t break him on purpose. Accidentally is fine.”

Her eyes sparkled. Actual amusement.

“Noted.”

Victor watched this exchange. Smile slipping. Realizing these weren’t farewells. These were survival instructions.

I walked to the door. Hand on knob. One last look around the common room. Trunks ready. Blades gleaming. Burn marks accusing.

Turned the knob. Stepped outside.

Sunlight hit hard. Street normal. Vendors calling. Kids running. Life continued.

Didn’t look back.

The walk to Apex Blade took twenty minutes. Legs moved on autopilot. Brain cataloging what I’d left behind. Three walking disasters now someone else’s problem. Safest place for them, technically. Guild hall secure. Association oversight. Victor’s ego keeping him from admitting he’d fucked up.

He was screwed. Knew it in my bones. But politically necessary. Beatrice needed a corpse or a precedent. Either worked.

Dark pragmatism settled in. Control gone. Not coming back soon. Team destabilizing without my hand on the wheel. But they were adults. Dangerous ones. They’d adapt. Or explode.

Apex Blade’s guild hall appeared ahead. Smaller building. Neat sign. No burn marks. No sword dents. Clean windows.

Knocked. Door opened.

Normal faces looked back. Balanced team. Standard classes. No red eyes. No masochistic spirals. No reality-warping experiments.

“Guild Master Rian.”

Young clerk. Nervous. Handing over keys.

“Welcome. Your office is upstairs.”

Stepped inside. Simple common room. Normal chairs. No weapon racks. Faint smell of polish, not blood and regret.

Bag hit the floor. Settled into the least uncomfortable chair.

Realization landed heavy. Anchor gone. Chaotic structure vanished. No disasters to wrangle. No monsters to contain.

Just normal. Safe. Boring.

A messenger burst through the door five minutes later. Out of breath. Eyes wide.

“Guild Master. Word from Crimson Rose.”

Paused. Waited.

“New management tried establishing dominance. Knight drew steel. Healer collapsed. Mage… laughed.”

Of course.

“Well, this is going to be a disaster.”