It was Monday afternoon. Drew had slipped away from the Academy through the back gates taking the usual AirTrain to Yerburn, where Gerald awaited his arrival at the Tavern. 

“Welcome back, Young Master.” The elderly butler greeted Drew. 

Drew hung his jacket and backpack over the chair situated near the entrance. Since it was getting much hotter in Ozwarth, he was wearing a casual white polo shirt that was complementary with his uniform. The collar drenched in his sweat from the late spring heat wave. 

“Did you prepare everything I requested?” 

“Yes.” Gerald nodded. “The Snowstone core is in the center of the ring. As for matters with the Phantom’s Rifle, I have secured a VIP ticket for June 8th. It will be auctioned for 150 million Kalas just as we anticipated.” 

“Excellent. And the profits from the Blood Otrio Regiment?” 

Gerald coughed before continuing with his report. 

“Currently, twenty billion. We finished covering our costs a couple days ago. Alchemists on the forum have been depleting our stocks. Heartman has released his 40% regiment and intends to dominate the market. We will be releasing the 45% regiment by tomorrow. Everything is going according to your expectations.” 

“How about the Production Alchemists?” 

“The Alchemists are being compensated accordingly. The regiment's completion has allowed the Alchemists to work only during day hours. Though they are contractors, some of them have requested permanent employment. What shall we do?” 

Drew pushed for a second, thinking about what he wanted to do. 

“I’ll need a day to think about it. Don’t want to go around making rash choices.”  

“If I may give you some advice regarding that decision,” Gerald interjected. “If you were to establish your own firm, it would increase your credibility amongst the public as an Alchemist. You would also threaten Heartman’s position since this means that your influence in Ozwarth is growing. Potential investors may take this as an opportunity to take down the King of the Alchemy Circle himself. Things could play in your favor.”

Drew climbed into the ring, removing the Snowstone Core from its insulated box. Cold smoke emerged from the steel container. 

“A change in leadership,” Drew said, picking up the core with his bare hand. If any other person touched the core, their fingertips would freeze off. “Heartman is crowding out all the competition in the circle through the monopolization of medicine. Since he’s not willing to share, people want him out of the picture. Heartman might be hot-headed, but he’s not dumb. His first target will be me. I don’t think I have many options but to  establish myself here in Ozwarth.” 

Seeing the Young Master with such determination, Gerald had felt that he might just be as great as his father, potentially greater. He wouldn’t just revive the Winter Family, he might just take them to a new height. The 57th Heir de Winter, just how far will he go? The old butler, now serving his third generation of Winters, was curious. He would do anything in his power to make sure Drew would succeed. He swore his allegiance to the Winters, whom he would never betray for as long as he lived.

“If he wants to retaliate, go ahead.” Drew crossed his legs, absorbing the Snowstone Core into his body. The cool Otrio flowing into his body coursed through his channels like water washing away debris. He felt the heavy fatigue built over the last few months lift away. Relief could be felt as the Otrio penetrated his Core. Then soon, it came. 

A bone-chilling cold. 

Invisible pins and needles pricked Drew's body, causing him to wince in pain. But it wasn’t physical pain. It felt like a pain to the soul. A cry telling him to relinquish his emotions. The emotions that made him who he was. The emotions that allowed him to create his personas. 

The emotions that made him whole. 

He wouldn’t give them up. He wouldn’t become an emotionless robot. He wasn’t going to adhere to the voice of the Snowstone Core telling him the only way to become stronger was by casting away everything he felt. It was foolish. 

While emotions weren’t necessary on the battlefield, what about off it? What was a life without those feelings of joy or sadness? If all of that was bottled into one’s mind? Isn’t that an asylum of its own?  

It’s dull. 

It lacked color. 

What Drew wanted wasn’t to become a cold person but someone who could control their emotions. A person could be who they were around those they cared about but also become emotionless in the face of adversity. A person who wouldn’t waver when they encountered a threat. A person who could have enough power to prevent others from being harmed. 

He had goals. 

Take down Heartman. 

Find the truth behind his parents’ deaths. 

Keep himself and his friends out of harm's way. 

He wasn’t going to succumb to the Otrio Core! 

BOOM. 

A deafening explosion could be heard from the ring. A surge of Otrio exploded from Drew’s body. A strong gust of wind scattered across the room, but it wasn’t ordinary wind. A thin layer of frost had formed every place the wind had touched. The tiny crystals melted upon contact with the warm surface immediately after they materialized. 

He could feel the Otrio, running stronger than ever through his body. His eyes glowed a brighter ice blue, beautiful yet cold at the same time as if the snow danced in them. The ethereal wings on his back doubled in width. A cold breath escaped his lips, the droplets decreasing the ambient temperature a degree or two. He had finally broken through to Mid-E Rank. 

“If there’s anything I’m confident about, it’s winning a marathon.” 

>>> 

In his grand office towering over Ozwarth, Heartman was sitting at his desk. His finger rhythmically tapped against its surface as he watched the graph fluctuate up in down, yet despite the downs, the overall trend of the graph was positive. A bright neon green he was familiar with instead of that infuriating crimson red, which reminded him of the things he despised the most. 

“Sales are looking good.” Heartman hummed, glancing outside the same glass window that had been replaced numerous times. He felt relieved, that he had finally gotten a leg up against the nuisance who had besmirched his flawless streak in the Alchemy Circle. “He may be a genius, but he is still green.” 

Another one of Heartman’s one billion secretaries stared at him speechlessly, attempting to comprehend why they decided to work for this conceited lunatic. 

“What do you say?“ Heartman beamed at his Secretary in his perfected public smile.

The Secretary sighed. He had heard rumors about Heartman’s attitude from his superiors, and everyone who had dealt with him personally could not last beyond a month. In the end, the former secretaries would request a shift to another department or just retire from the Heartman Foundation altogether. What was more impressive were the Alchemists who could put up with him for years. 

Kudos to them. The Secretary praised inwardly.

After the previous secretly was fired last week, he was next on the list. Though he had just returned to the company, he didn’t think he would be thrown into the frying pan within the first few days. 

The reason? 

He was already familiar with dealing with those kinds of people to the point where he could be described as a pushover. 

I suppose I’m just as much of a lunatic as my predecessors. He furrowed his brows. If only Sai were still alive, perhaps things would’ve been different. Perhaps he would’ve been better than this greedy Djinn. But a job is a job-

“Sir,” the Secretary began, carefully crafting his speech. “You should still be wary of him. Snow remains an unknown variable to us.” 

Heartman scoffed. 

“So what? All I need to do is crush him.” 

The Secretary took a deep inhale before continuing. His fist clenched so tightly to the point his veins were popping out. 

The Secretary stammered, “we cannot eliminate the possibility that we’ve fallen for his scheme. From our observation, Snow isn’t the type who wouldn’t confront us without preparing thoroughly.” 

“Schemes? Tricks? All of that means nothing.” Heartman smirked confidently, glancing out the window. The tip of the Obelisk nearly complete as steel beams and freight carriers floated around it. “I will show him. Show him that he chose the wrong tree to bark up.” 

The Secretary couldn’t say anything. Heartman was blinded by his own confidence. Not once had it crossed his mind to be cautious. He was used to the Heartman name being both revered and feared. He had grown accustomed to being at the top. Yet someone, a wild card of unknown origins, had come to dethrone him, the lofty king. That wild card had fanned the flames so much that its heat could no longer be controlled. Now the one who wielded the flames were being burned by them and was still trying to tame it. The torch which contained the flames was cracking it's just no one had noticed it yet. 

Perhaps this was meant to be. 

The downfall of the king. 

“Continue the release of regiments,” Heartman ordered. “We’ll have the 50% one shifted to the end of this week.” 

The Secretary bowed then left the room, watching Heartman. His confident expression had been replaced by one of slight distress. His eyes narrowed, and his brows knitted tightly. 

He was feeling it. 

The pressure. 

The pressure of having someone right on his tail.