One month ago
Nicole stared at the text from her father's assistant: "Mr. Demara requests your presence at Phoenix Tower, 2pm sharp. Confirm receipt."
She tossed her phone onto the plush sofa of her Beverly Hills living room, where it bounced once before settling into the cushions. Her father never "requested" anything—he commanded, and everyone obeyed. Even his precious, magical daughter.
"Problem?" Evelyn asked from the doorway.
"Daddy summoned me to the tower." Nicole stretched dramatically across the sofa. "Probably wants to lecture me about my latest Instagram post."
"The one with the champagne fountain at Kafka's party?" Evelyn's expression remained neutral, but Nicole caught the microshift in her gaze—the slight narrowing that indicated disapproval.
"That would be the one." Nicole examined her manicure, the rose gold polish catching the afternoon light. "Nine hundred thousand likes in six hours. Must be a record for me or whatever"
"The hunter community is… discussing it."
Nicole smirked. "Good. They should talk about something besides killing monsters and comparing the size of their essence stones for once."
Evelyn checked her watch—the elegant gold timepiece that doubled as her weapon in its collapsed form. "We should leave in thirty minutes to arrive with appropriate punctuality."
"God forbid we keep Damian Demara waiting an extra minute." Nicole sighed and pulled herself upright. "Fine. I'll change."
===
Phoenix Tower dominated the Century City skyline, fifty stories of gleaming glass and steel that reflected the Los Angeles sun like a monument to ambition. Nicole had always thought it looked like a middle finger to the rest of the hunter community—which was probably exactly what her father intended.
The executive elevator whisked them straight to the 49th floor, where Damian's office occupied the entire west wing. The sleek doors opened to reveal his personal assistant, a woman with a tablet permanently affixed to her hand.
"Ms. Demara, Ms. Chevalier. Mr. Demara is expecting you." She gestured toward the double doors at the end of the hallway without looking up from her screen.
Nicole rolled her eyes and strode forward, purposely adding extra sway to her hips. She'd chosen her outfit carefully—a cropped designer top that showed just enough midriff to annoy her father, paired with high-waisted pants.
Evelyn followed three steps behind her—close enough to protect, far enough to give the illusion of privacy.
The doors to Damian's office opened automatically as they approached. The man himself stood with his back to them, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Los Angeles landscape spread beneath him like a kingdom. His posture was military-straight, his silver-streaked hair immaculately styled. He didn't turn when they entered.
"You're three minutes early," he said, his voice carrying across the vast office. "Improvement."
Nicole dropped into one of the chairs facing his desk without being invited to sit. "Traffic was light. Don't get used to it."
Damian turned, his steel-gray eyes assessing her. For a fraction of a second, Nicole felt that childhood impulse to sit up straighter, to fold her hands in her lap like the proper daughter he'd tried to mold. She fought it by slouching further.
"Evelyn," Damian acknowledged with a slight nod. "You may wait outside."
"Mr. Demara," Evelyn replied. "With respect, my contract stipulates—"
"I'm aware of your contractual obligations. This is a family matter. Nicole will be perfectly safe with me."
"It's fine, Evie," Nicole said, examining her nails with feigned indifference. "Daddy just wants some quality time with his favorite disappointment."
Evelyn hesitated for exactly two seconds before giving a crisp nod. "I'll be directly outside the door. Signal if you require anything."
After Evelyn departed, Damian settled into his chair, the fabric of his custom suit adjusting perfectly to his movement. His desk between them was a massive slab of rare black marble, its surface empty except for a single tablet and a small display case containing what appeared to be a fragment of monster bone.
"Your social media presence has been particularly active this week," he began, his fingers forming a steeple in front of him.
Nicole examined the polish on her thumbnail. "Fifteen million followers now. You should thank me for the free advertising."
"Is that what you call posing in a champagne fountain with Kafka? Free advertising?" His tone remained eerily even, betraying no emotion.
"The Scavenger Guild appreciated it. Good for guild recruitment or whatever."
"I'm sure Thomas Andre is delighted with the exposure." Damian's mouth formed what might generously be called a smile. "Though I question the wisdom of associating so publicly with our primary competitor."
Nicole looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "Maybe I'm just keeping my options open."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Damian's expression didn't change, but Nicole felt the shift in his energy.
"Your contributions to Phoenix Imperium are valued, Nicole. Your social media following provides excellent market penetration among younger demographics. But let's not pretend you're evaluating guild options. Your abilities are optimized within our organizational structure."
"Right. My abilities." She leaned forward. "When was the last time you actually let me use them? The C-Rank assessment last month was a joke. You had Evelyn shadowing me the entire time."
"Evelyn's presence was standard security protocol for an asset of your value."
"An asset." Nicole laughed bitterly. "God forbid you call me your daughter."
Damian's expression remained impassive. "Your emotional response is irrelevant to this discussion. Your Rank Boost ability represents a strategic advantage that must be properly leveraged and protected. Which brings me to the actual purpose of this meeting."
He tapped his tablet, and a holographic display materialized above his desk—the profile of a man in his late twenties with aristocratic features, dark hair, and an expression of nobility.
"Lord James Harrington. S-Rank hunter from the British Association, recently assessed with potential for National Rank status. Comes from old money, extensive political connections throughout Europe, and possesses a unique telekinetic ability that complements our existing roster."
Nicole stared at the rotating image, a cold sensation spreading through her chest as she realized where this was heading.
"You can't be serious."
"The Harrington family has expressed interest in a potential alliance. Lord James will be visiting Los Angeles on August 11 to discuss possible terms." Damian's tone remained matter-of-fact, as if discussing a routine business transaction. "Your enhancement ability, combined with his spatial manipulation, would create exceptional offspring with—"
"Offspring?" Nicole stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You're trying to breed me?"
"I'm securing the future of Phoenix Imperium through strategic partnership. The Harrington family brings international connections we currently lack, and Lord James' genetic contribution would—"
"Stop. Just stop." Nicole's hands trembled with rage. "I am not one of your lab experiments. You can't just... slut me out to the highest bidder."
Damian's expression tightened fractionally—the closest he came to showing annoyance. "This emotional overreaction is precisely why you closeted despite your potential. You lack the strategic vision to—"
"To what? To see myself as a cum dump for the next generation of Phoenix Imperium hunters?" Nicole planted her palms on his desk, leaning forward. "I'm a person. I have my own plans."
"Such as?"
"I'm going to establish my own guild."
The words escaped before she'd fully formed the thought, but as soon as they hung in the air between them, Nicole knew they were true. It was the ultimate rebellion against everything her father represented.
Damian studied her for a long moment before doing something truly terrifying—he laughed. Not his public laugh, carefully calibrated for investor meetings and press conferences, but a short, genuine sound of amusement.
"A guild requires a master with proven combat experience. You've cleared exactly three C-Rank gates, all with Evelyn's supervision. The Association would never approve your application."
"Guild master qualification now requires twenty-five successful gate clearances at C-Rank or higher, without assistance from hunters of much higher rank." She recited from memory. "There's nothing in the regulations that says I can't do that."
"Twenty-five gates without Evelyn?" Damian raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't last five."
"Watch me."
"Nicole." His voice softened marginally—a calculated tactic she recognized from childhood. "This rebellion is unproductive. The Harrington alliance offers significant advantages for both families. Lord James is considered quite handsome by conventional standards, and his temperament reports indicate compatibility with your profile. You would maintain your social media presence and lifestyle, with the addition of occasional public appearances as a couple."
Nicole stared at her father, truly seeing him perhaps for the first time. Not as the terrifying presence from her childhood or the ruthless businessman from the news, but as a man so consumed by control and optimization that he'd reduced his own daughter to a genetic resource to be allocated.
"I'm going to clear twenty-five C-Rank gates," she said quietly. "Without Evelyn. Without Phoenix Imperium resources. And when I qualify for guild master status, I'm going to create something so different from your precious corporation that people won't even recognize it as a hunter organization."
Damian sighed. "This emotional response is predictable and will pass. When you've calmed down, we'll discuss the Harrington meeting preparations." He checked his watch. "I have a board call in five minutes. We'll continue this conversation later."
Nicole turned and walked toward the door, her heart pounding. Before exiting, she looked back over her shoulder. "You know what the difference is between us, Daddy? I actually have something you'll never possess, no matter how many companies you buy or hunters you recruit."
"And what might that be?"
"Magic." She smiled coldly. "All the money in the world, and you're still just a normal human playing with powers you'll never understand."
For a fraction of a second, Nicole saw it—the flash of raw emotion across her father's face, gone so quickly she might have imagined it. But she knew she hadn't. She'd scored a direct hit on the one insecurity Damian Demara could never overcome.
She left without another word, the heavy doors closing behind her with a definitive click.
"Twenty-five C-Rank gates without support." Evelyn's voice remained neutral as she drove them back through Beverly Hills traffic. "The statistical probability of—"
"Don't." Nicole stared out the window of the Bentley, watching palm trees slide past. "I don't need a risk assessment right now."
"Confirmed." Evelyn navigated around a slow-moving convertible filled with tourists. "What do you need?"
The question caught Nicole off-guard. Evelyn rarely asked open-ended questions, preferring precise inquiries with actionable responses. It was one of the things that made her different from the yes-men and sycophants that surrounded Nicole's father.
"I need..." Nicole paused, considering. "I need to not be a chess piece in my father's game."
Evelyn nodded once, eyes on the road. "Understood."
They drove in silence for several blocks before Nicole spoke again. "He wants to marry me off to some British lord with good hunter genes."
"Lord James Harrington. S-Rank telekinetic from the Kent Harrington line. Cleared fourteen A-Rank gates. No combat fatalities under his command."
Nicole turned to stare at her bodyguard. "You knew about this?"
"I maintain awareness of potential security concerns." Evelyn's fingers adjusted minutely on the steering wheel. "The Harrington file crossed my desk last week."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"My contract specifies that family matters remain outside my purview unless they present direct security implications." Evelyn stopped at a red light. "The Harrington family has no known connections to hostile organizations or individuals with negative intent toward you."
Nicole slumped in her seat. "So you think I should just go along with it? Meet this guy and start planning the perfect magical babies?"
The light turned green, and Evelyn accelerated. "My opinion on your personal relationships is irrelevant to my duties."
"I'm not asking the bodyguard. I'm asking you."
Evelyn's eyes remained focused on the road, but Nicole caught the slight tightening of her jaw—the tell that indicated she was processing something uncomfortable.
"The Hunter Association requires new guild masters to demonstrate independent gate-clearing capabilities to ensure they can properly evaluate threats and direct operations." Evelyn's voice remained professional. "Twenty-five C-Rank gates without S-Rank support would satisfy that requirement unequivocally."
Nicole blinked, surprised by this apparent support for her impulsive plan. "You think I can do it?"
"Your magical abilities are exceptional, even without considering your Rank Boost capability. Your tactical understanding exceeds that of most B-Rank hunters." Evelyn navigated onto Nicole's street with precision. "However, your combat experience is limited, and your survival instincts are untested in genuine life-threatening situations."
"So that's a no."
"That's an incomplete assessment." Evelyn pulled into the driveway of Nicole's Beverly Hills mansion—smaller than her father's estate, but still sprawling by any normal standard. "With appropriate preparation and training, the probability of success would increase significantly."
Nicole stared at her bodyguard and manager. "Are you... offering to train me?"
"My primary directive is your safety and wellbeing." Evelyn's purple eyes held Nicole's gaze steadily. "If your determination to pursue independent guild master qualification is genuine rather than reactive, then preparing you properly aligns with that directive."
Nicole nearly laughed. This was Evelyn-speak for "I've got your back."
"It's not just rebellion," Nicole said quietly as they entered the house. "He's never seen me as a person. Just an asset with useful magic. A tool for his empire."
Evelyn remained standing. "A demonstrated capability carries more weight than verbal declarations."
Nicole stood, pacing the plush carpet as her mind raced. "I'd need training. Real training, not the basics you've shown me for self-defense."
"Correct. Your magical reserves are substantial, but your combat techniques require significant refinement."
"And I'd need connections in the hunter community independent from Phoenix Imperium."
"Also correct. Guild establishment requires Association approval."
"So let's get started."
"Such training would be physically demanding and potentially painful. It would require significant lifestyle adjustments and daily commitment." Evelyn's tone remained neutral, but her eyes held Nicole's steadily. "Are you prepared for that level of discipline?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Whatever it takes."
Evelyn studied her for a moment longer, then gave a single, precise nod. "Then we begin tomorrow, 5:30 a.m. Wear athletic clothing suitable for intensive movement. Eat nothing after 8 p.m. tonight, light protein breakfast at 5 a.m."
Nicole blinked. "That's... specific."
"Effective training requires proper preparation." Evelyn's expression softened fractionally—so slightly that only someone who had spent years with her would notice. "I'll prepare a training schedule and gate assessment criteria. We should identify suitable C-Rank gates within driving distance that match your developing skill set."
As Evelyn left the room, Nicole sat back down, the full weight of what she'd committed to finally sinking in. Twenty-five C-Rank gates without S-Rank support. Creating her own guild in direct opposition to her father's empire. Actual combat training instead of the carefully controlled exercises Evelyn had previously deemed "appropriate" for her status.
She pulled out her phone, tempted to share her dramatic decision with her social media followers. A defiant post about breaking away from Phoenix Imperium would certainly generate attention. Her thumb hovered over the Instagram icon.
Then she thought about her father, how he'd dismiss it as another emotional outburst, how he'd expect her to give up as soon as the training got difficult or the gates got dangerous. How satisfying it would be to succeed without any public declarations, to present him with accomplished facts rather than promises.
Nicole put her phone down. For once, she didn't need her followers to validate her decision. This wasn't about attention or likes or becoming a trending topic.
This was about becoming someone her father couldn't dismiss or control. Someone who had earned respect rather than inherited privilege.
For the first time in years, possibly ever, Nicole Demara was making a choice based entirely on what she wanted for herself. It felt strange. Terrifying.
And absolutely right.