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Chapter 792: The Reason Behind the Decision

Garcia broke the silence first.

“I’ve answered your question,” she said. “Now I want to hear your answer.”

Roland looked up from whatever he’d been turning over in his mind. “Ah — yes. I’ll join the association.”

She went still. “What?”

“I’m willing to join. Isn’t that what you’ve been asking for?”

“Yes, but I thought you—” She stopped.

“Got cold feet?” He chuckled. “I really did go shopping with my relative this afternoon. Why won’t you trust me?” A pause. “Can I apply now? You mentioned that someone — the senior — is the referee.”

Garcia studied him for a long moment with the expression of someone trying to determine whether a document is forged. Then she shook her head. “She isn’t a referee. She’s my master. I’d asked her to come and demonstrate how to better use the Force of Nature, but after today, she won’t want to meet you again.”

Roland thought: It’s because I stood her up. She must have been furious — and she reproached Garcia for it.

Garcia reached under the tea table and produced a sheet of paper. “Fill this out. Your signature is required.”

He stared at it. “That’s all? This is a secret organization that protects the world. No ceremony? No ability test?”

She gave a short, cold laugh. “What do you think this is — the ancient Priory of Sion? It’s modern times. Your signature simply confirms we’ve informed you of your rights. Once the association receives your application, it will verify your identity, register you for social security, and file for any applicable grants.” She paused. “As for ability tests — anyone who has awakened with the Force of Nature qualifies. Strength can be cultivated. A test for a newly awakened person proves nothing.”

It was still faintly surreal to hear someone who had grown up inside an ancient royal family speak this way.

When he picked up the pen, she stopped him.

“I have to remind you again.” Her voice turned quiet, deliberate. “Once you become one of us, you are no longer an ordinary person. You will have the rights the association grants, and you will have its obligations. If you betray us, or disclose any of our secrets, you will immediately become our enemy. We won’t bring you to a court. We handle our own procedure. I need you to understand this before you sign.”

She had been desperate to recruit him. Now she was giving him every reason not to sign. Something in him shifted further toward respect.

The Queen of Clearwater in the real world was devious, ruthless, and calculating. This Garcia is completely different — everything she does, she does in the open.

“I know what I’m doing,” Roland said, and signed.

“Now — can you tell me the truth about the Erosion?”

“No.” She folded the form carefully and placed it in the wooden box beneath the table. “It takes approximately two days to verify identity. You’ve filed an application. You aren’t an official member yet, so I can’t share any of it.”

“All right. Then a different question.” He set the pen down. “You said a martialist earns a generous reward for killing a Fallen Evil. How does the association confirm it was you who made the kill?”

Garcia looked slightly disappointed, the way someone does when they realize the thing they thought had changed has not changed at all.

“I’m not asking about the amount,” Roland said quickly. “I’m asking about verification. I can’t fight a Fallen Evil and film the whole thing at the same time. Do I need a witness? Do you collect heads?”

“Is money always this central for you?” Her voice tightened. “No matter who kills a Fallen Evil, the world is cleaner for it. Why must you account for every detail?”

Roland spread his hands. “You’re a martialist whose match winnings exceed a common person’s yearly salary. Two months ago I was unemployed. I have myself to take care of, and a child. You’re right. Money is very important to me.”

It was a deliberate misdirection — he was here to understand the Erosion, not to benefit personally. But the lie was close enough to truth that it landed without strain.

Garcia held his gaze for a moment, still faintly irritated, then answered: “To prove you killed a Fallen Evil, you hand over its mutated Natural Core to the association.”

Roland paused. “I can simply hand it over?”

“Of course. It’s the source of the Fallen Evil’s power. Once a mutation occurs, it never reverts. It proves the Fallen Evil was eroded. If we don’t collect and secure these cores, they’ll eventually infect others. An ordinary person who touches a mutated core will lose their mind.”

“You mean — a mutated core can be used by someone other than the original host?”

“Yes.” Garcia’s expression darkened. “Which is why people are collecting them. We know exactly what they’re thinking. Don’t they realize what they’re doing to this world?”

Another organization. Roland filed that away. Garcia had let it slip in a moment of anger and was visibly reluctant to say anything more.

“But the association must hold a considerable number of these cores in storage,” Roland pressed. “Aren’t you worried they’ll locate the stockpile, or that a martialist might betray—”

“Impossible.” She cut him off without hesitation. “You aren’t entitled to know the details yet — but I can promise you this: those people will never breach the defense around the association’s core area. Before they even reach it, the Four Defenders will tear them apart.”

He wanted very much to ask where the core area was, and who the Four Defenders were. He knew he’d get no answers tonight.

But one day — what if I could get inside that place? Get to those stored cores? Release all of their Force of Nature at once?

He didn’t know what would happen. That was precisely what made it worth looking forward to.

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