Supreme Talent: Legend of the Yandere Magnet Emperor

The restaurant on the dome’s quieter edge was a calmer place to think.

Over a long meal, the team turned the problem over. Five more members, balanced ideally between stages, people they could actually stand to share a death-realm with.

"We need a real fighter or two," she said. "Soul Tree, preferably, to round out the roster. But not another Kaesryn Vol. I would rather enter shorthanded than spend the whole realm managing someone who thinks half of us are luggage."

"Agreed," Rudrean said. "We’ve got time. One day. We don’t have to settle."

It was then that a voice cut into the conversation, warm and entirely uninvited.

"Mind if I make your shortlist a little easier?"

A young man stood at the end of their table, hands tucked in his pockets, rocking on his heels with a wide, easy grin. He was sandy-haired and pleasant-faced, dressed comfortably rather than richly, with the relaxed air of someone perpetually amused by a joke no one else had heard yet. There was nothing imposing about him at all.

Which was exactly what made Rudrean look twice.

[Maxim Forger. Soul Tree. Rank: 143rd.]

A hundred and forty-third. The number said unremarkable. But Rudrean’s senses, sharpened by the Life Nexus, brushed against the man and found something that did not match the number at all, a depth carefully folded away, a strength deliberately tucked out of sight.

’He’s hiding,’ Isalyn said immediately, her interest piqued. ’And hiding well. That ranking is a costume. There is considerably more to him than a hundred and forty-three.’

’I noticed,’ Rudrean replied.

"You’re staring," Maxim said cheerfully, pulling out a chair without being asked and dropping into it. "It’s fine. People do. Maxim Forger, lovely to meet you all." He spread his hands. "I’ll cut to it, because I respect a man mid-meal. I’d like to join your team. And I think you should let me, because your team is going to win."

Rudrean set down his cup. "That’s a confident thing to say about a realm no one’s been inside."

"It is, isn’t it?" Maxim’s grin widened, delighted with himself. "Here’s the thing. My Arcane Path is a fortune path. It shows me good luck, points me toward it, lets me feel where the current’s flowing." He tapped his temple. "And for the last day, every time I’ve quieted my mind and asked it where my fortune lies in this whole gathering, it points one direction. At you." He nodded at Rudrean, then swept the nod across the rest of them. "All of you. I don’t fully know why yet. But my Path has never once steered me wrong, and right now it is practically dragging me to this table."

"A fortune path," Lyra repeated slowly, her crafter’s curiosity plainly warring with her caution.

"Mm. And before you ask what good ’luck’ is in a fight," Maxim went on, anticipating her, "it’s this: inside that realm, there’ll be treasures. Resources. Hidden things. My Path is very, very good at finding what’s worth finding, and steering us clear of what isn’t. You want someone who can sniff out the good fortune in a place none of you have ever set foot. That’s me." He leaned back, spreading his arms. "I come in good faith. No demands, no head-count nonsense, no calling anyone luggage." A pointed, knowing little smile, as if he’d seen the Kaesryn exchange from across the dome. "Just a cheerful man and his lucky nose, offered freely."

The team traded glances. Ryzen looked hopeful. Rivera was studying Maxim with careful neutrality. Lyra’s ears had pricked with interest despite herself.

Rudrean weighed it. The man was hiding power, yes, but he was open about being a mystery, which was a strange and almost reassuring kind of honesty. And a treasure-finding fortune path in an unknown realm full of hidden things was, frankly, exactly the sort of edge a team could win on.

’Trust him?’ he asked along the link.

’Cautiously,’ Isalyn said. ’Watch him. But a fortune-teller who tells you he’s hiding things is more trustworthy than most who don’t. And I confess I am curious what his Path saw in us.’ A dry note. ’Besides, if his luck is real, I would rather it be pointed at us than against us.’

"All right, Maxim Forger," Rudrean said, and gestured to the empty seat the man had already claimed. "Welcome aboard. On a trial basis. Try not to make us regret the optimism."

"You won’t." Maxim beamed and helped himself to the bread basket as though he’d been part of the team for years. "Six down, four to go. See? Your luck’s improving already."

...

Elsewhere in the city, fortune was being discussed in a very different register.

In a luxurious private villa on one of the upper tiers, beside a swimming pool that glowed faintly with its own light, a young woman reclined on a lounger and watched a screen of her own.

She was striking in a way engineered to be noticed: red hair tumbling loose, a figure displayed rather than dressed, every line of her arranged for effect. Grace Hoffar, of the Hoffar family, 12th ranked in the Alliance.

Around her lounged three other young women of the same age and the same studied glamour, draped across the poolside in expensive idleness, all of them watching the same screen.

The footage played Rudrean. Clip after clip of him, stitched together from across the thirty-six hours of the Mountain, far more angles than any casual observer could have caught by chance. Someone had been recording him, deliberately and at length.

Grace’s eyes followed every movement on the screen, and they were not the eyes of casual admiration. They were fixed. Hungry. Possessive in a way that had left mere attraction behind some time ago.

Her hand was at her private part. It moved steadily while eyes flickered with imagination.

One of her friends glanced over, caught the look on Grace’s face, and laughed lightly.

"Looks like she’s found a new toy to play with."

"No." Grace did not look away from the screen. Her voice was soft, and underneath the softness ran something cold and absolute. "Not a toy. A toy you get bored of." Her lips curved. "This is better than a toy. This is the one. Strong, beautiful, no family to answer to, no leash on him at all. Do you have any idea how rare that is? According to my investigation team I sent, he was from a lowly 0-star planet, but someone, that place produced a gem like this. He is an unclaimed treasure, and it would only benefit Hoffar family and my ambitions more if I have him."

Her fingers tightened on the lounger’s edge. "I want him. Completely. In my bed, at my side, the father of my children. Hoffar blood and whatever that is, bred together." Her smile widened, and it was a frightening thing. "I will have him. Whatever it costs. For my desire and ambition, he is god-send."

For Grace Hoffar, it had never been only about wanting. It was about the family, the bloodline, the ambitions she nursed that ran higher than the twelfth rank her house already held. A man like that was not merely desirable. He was an opportunity, the perfect ingredient for the future she meant to build, and she had no intention of letting anyone else reach him first.

She rose from the lounger in a single fluid motion, the others scrambling up after her.

"Get dressed," Grace said, already striding toward the villa. "We’re going hunting."

...

The team had finished their meal and were deep in easy conversation with their newest member, Maxim holding forth on some improbable story about his "lucky nose" while Ryzen laughed and Lyra rolled her eyes, when the air at the table changed.

Four young women approached, and the restaurant turned to watch them come. They were impossible not to watch, dressed to command attention, moving like they owned the floor. At their center, red hair catching the light, walked the one from the footage’s audience.

Grace Hoffar stopped at the edge of their table, and her eyes went straight to Rudrean and stayed there, drinking him in with open, unhidden appetite.

"Well," she purred, a slow smile spreading across her face. "The screen really did not do you justice." Her gaze traveled him head to foot, unashamed. "You are, without question, the most beautiful thing I have laid eyes on in this entire gathering. I’ve been watching you for two days, and watching is no longer enough." She set a hand on her hip. "Rudrean, isn’t it? Eighth rank, no family, all that lovely raw talent going to waste on..." a dismissive flick of her eyes across the others, "...this little group."

Aelira’s smile went very, very flat.

"I’m Grace Hoffar," the redhead continued, undeterred, her eyes locked back onto Rudrean as though no one else at the table existed. "Hoffar family. Twelfth in the Alliance. And I’ve decided I want you." She said before lickering her lips, and biting on it as if she was holding herself back. "I want you in my team. And then further in. We’ll discuss the rest later, you and I, somewhere more private." Her smile turned molten as she bend towards him, nearing him. "Join me. I promise you’ll find me very, very persuasive."

She glanced at Aelira, Lyra, and Rivera before turning back to Rudrean. "Forget these dim women. I’ll give you everything, and make you my king. The king of Hoffer family."

"Bitch, do you want to die?" Aelira’s cold voice rang, sharp and angry.

’This bitch wants to die.’ Isalyn snorted.