The sun hadn't even reached its peak when a formal envoy arrived at the gates of "Linked Hearts." Unlike the cultist who had come cloaked in shadow, these visitors came draped in prestige. Their uniforms were pristine, adorned with the crimson sigil of the Crimson Tempest Guild — one of the top five guilds in the region, known for their vast resources, elite members, and a reputation for "strategic partnerships" that often ended with the smaller guilds being absorbed entirely.
Their leader, a silver-haired woman with piercing blue eyes and a voice like a sword drawn mid-duel, introduced herself as Seraphine Valcairn. She carried herself like royalty, or someone who knew that entire kingdoms might fall with a flick of her finger. Flanked by two equally intimidating lieutenants, she strode into the meeting hall like she owned it, her heels clicking against the wooden floors as if marking every beat of a countdown.
MC sat at the head of the table, nervously chewing a biscuit that had long since crumbled in his hand. He didn't even remember who had made the biscuits — probably Iris or Kaela — but at the moment, he regretted eating anything. Kira watched the envoy with narrowed eyes from her perch on a windowsill, while Luna stood behind MC with her staff at the ready, feigning casual interest. Lina and Iris had seated themselves on either side of MC, like two very pretty, very powerful armrests made of sarcasm and murder potential.
Seraphine got to the point quickly. "Let's skip pleasantries, shall we? Your guild has drawn attention. You've performed admirably in the Guild War Trials. Efficient. Unconventional. Undeniably chaotic. But effective."
MC blinked. "Thanks?"
She offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Crimson Tempest wishes to offer Linked Hearts a strategic alliance. Resources. Backing. Shared infrastructure. Even access to our higher-tier quest network."
"Sounds generous," Iris said flatly.
Lina raised an eyebrow. "Too generous."
Kira snorted. "Translation: they want to buy us like a discount vegetable stand."
Seraphine didn't flinch. "Let's not mistake ambition for charity. We offer opportunity — in return for… streamlined leadership. That is, we would assist in restructuring your guild hierarchy. Your leader would retain symbolic control, of course."
"Symbolic?" MC repeated, biscuit crumbs flying out of his mouth.
"Yes," Seraphine said, voice like ice. "You would retain your image — your brand, if you will — while our strategists guide real decisions. It's an arrangement that has benefited many before you."
MC slowly stood up, brushing crumbs from his tunic. He looked around the room. At his weird, bickering, sometimes emotionally unstable, wildly powerful guild members — the misfits who had laughed, fought, and cried beside him. Who believed in him even when he wasn't sure why.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you… for the offer."
Seraphine tilted her head, sensing the 'but' approaching like a thunderclap.
"But I'll have to decline."
There was a collective inhale from his team — not of surprise, but satisfaction.
"May I ask why?" Seraphine said coolly.
"Because we're not for sale," MC replied, standing a little straighter. "We built this guild from the ground up. With accidents. With luck. With people who had nowhere else to go. We're weird. We're disorganized. Our bard is drunk half the time and our rogue might try to steal your earrings just for fun."
"Hey," Kira muttered.
"But we're ours," he continued. "And we'll make our own way. Even if that way is messy. Especially if it's messy."
Seraphine regarded him in silence for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"Very well," she said, rising. "It was a courtesy to offer. Not an obligation."
As she turned to leave, she added without looking back, "Just be aware: alliances shape survival. Rejection paints targets."
"Good thing we like challenges," Lina said with a smirk.
"I eat threats for breakfast," Iris added, completely deadpan.
"Actually," MC said, "we eat eggs and regret for breakfast. But thank you for your concern."
After the envoys left, the guild burst into chaotic celebration — not because they'd gained anything material, but because they had stood their ground. Jax composed a terrible song about MC's speech on the spot, Luna brought out celebratory pastries she insisted she didn't bake out of stress, and Kira punched a training dummy so hard it shattered, claiming it looked at her wrong.
Later that evening, word of the rejection spread far and fast. Some laughed. Others took notes. But many began to see "Linked Hearts" not just as lucky underdogs, but as serious players — a guild that wouldn't bend to power, no matter how enticing the offer. The kind of guild that made waves.
And somewhere far away, hidden eyes watched again.
One whispered to another, "He turned down Seraphine?"
"Foolish."
"Or dangerous."
And in a dark chamber of the Cult, a low voice murmured, "Interesting. Very interesting."
END OF CHAPTER 52