I met Max Vierkant's gaze with unwavering calm. "If Rose were here," I said, my voice steady, "she would respect my decision."

These words left Max bewildered.

Meanwhile, everyone except Noa Atzmon pursed their lips and exchanged knowing glances. A jarring memory resurfaced in their minds: Colonel Hightower emerging from the bedroom wearing a man's shirt, busying herself while that damned man stood waiting by the table.

Given the circumstances, my statement was perfectly logical. However, it likely stemmed not from a position of strength, but from more complicated motivations.

The situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I turned towards the old woman, who stood at the doorway, her eyes wide with concern. My voice softened involuntarily. "He started it," I explained, offering a gentle smile.

The old woman nodded. "I saw everything," she said, her voice a comforting whisper. "Max was being naughty. You simply taught him a lesson, and that's a good thing. Better to learn from a friend than a stranger."

Ethan Atzmon and the others couldn't suppress a chuckle. The old woman's perspective was charmingly innocent and naive. To her, the confrontation was merely a playful spat between two children. Neither of them bore a scratch, leading her to believe, perhaps, that the fight hadn't even begun.

Nevertheless, they derived satisfaction from witnessing Max Vierkant suffer a rare setback.

"Thank you for your hospitality these past few days," I said, bowing my head in gratitude. "It's time for me to go."

I turned and strode out of the courtyard, leaving behind a mix of stunned silence and grudging admiration.

Ethan Atzmon, seeing Vierkant standing there dumbfounded, no longer tried to stop me. He breathed a sigh of relief and followed me with the others.

Walking away from the courtyard, Ethan remained puzzled. "What just happened?" he muttered. "Why did he suddenly retreat?"

Noa trailed behind, casually sheathing her short sword. "Who knows?" she said with a sly smile. "Maybe he pulled a muscle from running too fast."

Her eyes, however, remained fixed on me, a spark of curiosity in their depths.

Noa had heard tales of the admiral's five extraordinary skills from his youth, though she hadn't witnessed them firsthand. Among these, the most subtle was Shadow Touch. This knowledge, coupled with the subtle clues in Vierkant's behavior, painted a vivid picture in her mind.

"Sister, will this affect your relationship with him?" Ethan Atzmon asked, rubbing his temples as if nursing a headache. "After all, Father personally chose him as a potential son-in-law. Sending you to H.A.R.M. was meant to give you a chance to get to know him better."

Noa scoffed. "That man-child? Please. He hides behind his senior sister's skirts whenever things get tough. He's hardly husband material."

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The other agents exchanged amused glances. A flicker of irritation crossed Ethan's face. "I didn't ask you to come," he said curtly. "If most of my team weren't stuck in Pinewood, you wouldn't even be here."

He turned his attention to me, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. The newcomer's composure in the face of Vierkant's outburst was impressive. How can someone from a backwater town like Pinewood possess such unwavering confidence? he wondered.

"We're about to leave," Ethan announced, his voice regaining its usual authority. "Is there anything else you need?"

I didn't hesitate. "I require a training manual for breaking through to the Wave Realm," I stated, my tone matter-of-fact.

“No,” Dave Gray, taken aback by the blunt request, interjected, "Major Atzmon is referring to things of immediate use, like weapons or armor. "

What kind of thought process does this kid have? We're about to fight beastvamps, and he's asking for a book. He mused to himself.

Ethan Atzmon's lips curled into a sly smile. "If you're willing to pledge your loyalty to the Atzmon family," he offered, "I can provide you with one right now. A marriage alliance, perhaps. I have a few distant cousins who might be suitable."

The offer hung in the air. The other agents were shocked by this sudden proposal, but Noa Atzmon tilted her head and inserted, "Why not a sister?" she purred, her gaze fixed on me.

Ethan shot her a warning glance. "Because you're not under my control," he hissed. "Father would have to approve such a match."

Noa laughed, her hand landing on my shoulder. "Just teasing, kid," she said, her voice light and playful. "Don't get your feathers ruffled."

I ignored the banter, my gaze unwavering as I addressed Ethan. "What about H.A.R.M.'s training resources?"

Ethan Atzmon's disappointment was palpable. Even the prospect of a prestigious marriage alliance couldn't sway him, he thought, a flicker of frustration crossing his face.

The Atzmon family rarely extended such offers, the risk of infiltration by H.A.R.M. spies too great. Only someone of Ethan's stature could even propose such an arrangement.

Yet, he maintained his composure, his voice carefully neutral as he explained H.A.R.M.'s recruitment process. "Though you wear the uniform, you're not an official member yet," he said, meeting my gaze. "It's different here than in the private sector. There, talented young disciples are treated like royalty. You're part of a family, and as you grow stronger, so does the family."

"Is it different in H.A.R.M.?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.

"Of course it's different," Noa said, her lips curling into a pout as she waved her hand dismissively. "Once you join a family, you're branded. Betrayal isn't tolerated. You can't simply jump ship and join another organization—nobody takes a traitor."

Noa continued, her voice tinged with righteousness. "H.A.R.M., on the other hand, is a public institution," she explained. "It's open to all—both for joining and leaving. Our sole mission is to safeguard Cascadia. Mind you, sometimes those formidable martial artists can be as much a threat as the vampires we fight."

"The key," she continued, her eyes narrowing, "is to prove your worth. You need to demonstrate that you're a weapon against the darkness, not just a parasite leeching off precious resources."

The electrician stepped forward, his tone more pragmatic. "To put it bluntly," he said, "you work first, then you reap the rewards. You need to earn the star on your sleeve."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the group. "But the rewards," he added, his voice gaining a newfound intensity, "are beyond anything a private family can offer."

"Take the Melting Sun technique, for example," he continued, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "It's the key to breaking through to the Wave Realm, a seamless fusion of essence and martial arts. There are perhaps three other techniques in all of Cascadia that can rival its power."

Speaking of this, the electrician looked at the Atzmons beside him and organized his words, "Even the esteemed Atzmon family, with their renowned techniques, can only activate 126 orifices. The Melting Sun unlocks 270, more than doubling your potential.”

"Hey!" Ethan Atzmon couldn't help but kick his butt, "Like you know so much.”

I retracted my gaze, my grip on the sword tightening. The electrician's words had struck a chord. The prospect of such power, such a dramatic leap in my abilities, was intoxicating.