Three server-wide announcements, back to back, barely two minutes apart. The forums didn’t just react they seized up entirely.
"Wait, did that say ONE FIFTY MILLION a year?!"
"Kael’s old contract at Ironclad topped out at fifty. FIFTY. This is triple that for someone nobody’s ever heard of."
"Makes sense honestly Ascension’s bigger than anything that’s launched in years. Top talent’s going to command top dollar."
"Meanwhile Ironclad fired a three-year veteran YESTERDAY and is now offering double his old salary to a total stranger. Somebody explain the logic there."
"Who even is Evertide Studios? Never heard the name and they’re throwing around numbers like that?"
"Feels early to bet this big, though. What if his class turns out to be a fast-start, hard-fall build?"
"You think the people running these orgs are dumber than random forum posters? They’re not throwing this kind of money at a coin flip."
"Exactly. If they’re all bidding this hard, they’ve clearly done the math and decided he’s worth every cent."
"Honestly? A hundred and fifty’s still light. Guy might not even blink at that number."
Half the server was placing bets on how Kael would respond.
Kael himself just shook his head, mildly amused, and finished restocking at the general store, already turning toward the gate.
He didn’t make it two steps before someone cut him off.
A figure stepped directly into his path, arms spread, blocking the road entirely.
"Hold up you’re Unrivaled, aren’t you?"
Kael raised an eyebrow and took her in properly.
Tall. Striking. Dressed in a set of fitted crimson leather armor clearly chosen to make an impression rather than survive a fight. She extended a hand toward him with a warm, practiced smile.
"Rachel. Public relations, Ironclad Esports. Mind if we talk?"Behind his mask, Kael’s expression flattened.
Of course they’d stake out the general store. Predictable.He had exactly zero interest in another conversation with anyone still drawing a paycheck from Ironclad.
He fed his voice through the system’s tone-changer, dropping it into something flat and unfamiliar.
"Wrong guy."
He walked straight past her.
Rachel stood frozen for a beat, thrown completely off script.
She’d built her entire career on the fact that people rarely said no to her it was most of the reason she’d landed the PR director seat in the first place. She’d dressed for this exact meeting, calculated every angle of the approach.
And the entire payoff had been "wrong guy," delivered without a flicker of interest.
She refused to let it go that easily. She wasn’t actually confused she knew exactly who she was looking at.
Nobody else walked around the capital in gear this expensive wearing that specific mask. There was only one player it could be.
She caught up fast, falling into step beside him, voice sliding back into something warm and coaxing.
"Come on, don’t play games with me. I’m here in an official capacity Ironclad wants you, and we’re serious about it. Salary, terms, whatever gets you through the door, it’s all on the table."
She slid a hand around his arm as she said it, leaning in close, voice dropping lower.
"And I do mean whatever you want. I can be very persuasive when I need to be."
Kael had spent three years at that club. He knew exactly what kind of reputation came attached to this particular smile the private spending habits that outpaced even Cynthia’s, the string of men she juggled behind the scenes, none of it exactly a secret to anyone who’d worked there long enough.
If he’d been some wide-eyed rookie, maybe the act would have landed.
It didn’t. If anything, it turned his stomach.
But he also knew Rachel well enough to
know a flat no wasn’t going to shake her loose. She had a well-earned reputation for not knowing when to quit.
An idea surfaced, and Kael let a slow, easy grin spread across his face.
"Any condition, huh? Let’s take this outside the walls, then. Somewhere quieter."
Rachel’s whole posture brightened.
"Perfect. I promise you’ll like what we’re offering."
She peeled off his arm and swept ahead of him toward the gate, hips swaying with exaggerated confidence.
Idiot, Kael thought, watching her go, expression carefully blank. All bark, all surface, thinks with whatever gets her the easiest yes.
She’d taken the bait without even checking the hook.
They crossed the drawbridge together, and the moment they cleared it, Kael spotted a cluster of familiar faces waiting near the far end.
"Boss, this gear’s insane! You look unstoppable."
"Shame most of it came off that Unrivaled prick’s own auction. Guy funded his own beatdown and doesn’t even know it yet."
"That’s the beauty of it. Gear up on his dime, then go take the rest off his corpse."
"Poetic justice, baby. I love it."
Every name in the cluster carried the same prefix. Voss.
Front and center stood ReaperDrake, decked out head to toe in gear Kael recognized immediately every piece straight off the listings he’d auctioned that morning.
Bought back into relevance with my own leftovers, and immediately decided that meant a rematch was on the table.
Kael almost laughed. A scar healed once, and apparently that was long enough for some people to forget exactly how it happened.
Let’s refresh the memory, then.
He didn’t say a word. Just raised one hand and called the Ravager forward.