"What plan?" Ivan asked, his voice low and cautious, his frown deepening.
John smiled broadly, his tone almost jubilant as if sharing a great secret. "Do you know how wizards are created, Rocky?"
Ivan hesitated, but then replied, "On the first Sunday of every month, those illuminated by the Bronken Star randomly awaken their traits. That's the prevailing theory."
John chuckled, shaking his head with the air of someone about to reveal a profound truth. "Yes, that *was* the theory. But it's about to be overturned. Master Buster Metallia has discovered something revolutionary, an entirely new way to create wizards."
Ivan's eyes narrowed. "And what is this new way?"
John's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Through reproduction."
"Reproduction?" Ivan's voice rose in shock, his composure briefly slipping. "I've never heard of such a thing."
"Precisely because it's never been done before!" John exclaimed, spreading his arms dramatically. "The process is simple: a male wizard and a female wizard, after being baptized by a unique ritual, can reproduce and give birth to new wizards. No need to wait for random awakenings or celestial phenomena. This is controlled, deliberate, and powerful."
Ivan remained silent, his mind racing. John leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a sacred truth.
"Do you know what this means, Rocky? Right now, wizards are rare. One in every five to ten thousand people at most. A city like Saint Francis has less than a hundred wizards. And annoyingly, most of them are still under the thumb of the Robbins family. But with this new method, everything changes."
John's voice gained a feverish intensity. "A single mother can produce up to seven wizard offspring. Seven! Imagine; if we collect enough mothers and have them reproduce continuously, in less than two decades, we could have *hundreds* of wizards under our control. Hundreds! A veritable army of superpowered individuals. With that kind of strength, we won't just control Saint Francis, we'll *own* it!"
Ivan's stomach twisted as John continued, his eyes shining with a mad fervor.
"Unfortunately," John added with a theatrical sigh, "a sire, our term for a male wizard, can only undergo this baptism once. That's why we need more sires, fresh recruits. Wizards like you, Rocky."
John's gaze locked onto Ivan's, his smile predatory. "Surely you see the significance of this. You'll be working alongside future governors, senators, even presidents from the Metallia family. We'll shape the world together."
He extended a hand toward Ivan. "Join us. Help us build this future."
Ivan didn't move, his expression unreadable. He let the silence hang in the air, weighing the offer. Finally, he broke it with a quiet chuckle.
"Can I ask one thing?" he said, his tone light but laced with steel. "What happens to these 'mothers' you're so keen to use?"
John's smile faltered briefly before returning, though it now seemed tinged with pity. "Ah, yes," he said, shaking his head. "That's the unfortunate drawback. Over time, the mothers lose their vitality, their individuality. They become... vegetative. No longer useful as people."
Ivan's jaw tightened, but John continued undeterred. "But think about it; one mother produces seven wizards. That's a seven-hundred percent return on investment. A small price to pay for such extraordinary gains!"
Ivan's voice was colder now. "And Martha? Is she part of this?"
John laughed lightly, as if discussing a trivial matter. "Ah, so you've met her? I nearly forgot you'd been to the Cartel's mansion. Yes, Martha was one of our chosen mothers."
Seeing Ivan's reaction, John grinned wider. "If you like her, we could assign her to you. I doubt Guzman would object."
He leaned closer, his voice dripping with insinuation. "And she's just one of many. We have actresses, socialites, even daughters of minor nobles waiting to be bred. If you join us, you'll have your pick. You can choose any of them."
Ivan smiled at that, a slow, deliberate smile that grew wider and brighter. It looked genuine—joyful, even—as if John's offer had finally won him over. But deep inside, something cold and sharp coiled in Ivan's chest.
John's grin grew triumphant. "So, what do you say, Boss Rocky? Shall we seal this partnership?"
Ivan extended his right hand, his smile unwavering. It was an enthusiastic gesture, as if he were eager to accept the offer.
John moved to shake his hand, but just as their fingers were about to touch, Ivan spoke, his tone light but cutting.
"Excuse my frankness, sir," Ivan said, his smile twisting into something far darker. "But you're *disgusting*."
Before John could react, Ivan's other hand moved like a blur. A pistol materialized in his grip, seemingly from thin air. Without hesitation, Ivan turned it on John and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the shot echoed like thunder in the once-silent street. John's expression flickered from surprise to pain as the bullet struck, sending him staggering back. His hand clutched at his side, blood seeping through his pristine coat.
"You—" John started, his voice strained, but Ivan didn't let him finish.
"You wanted to see my answer?" Ivan said coldly, stepping closer, his pistol aimed steady. "That's it. My answer is no."
The world seemed to hold its breath as Ivan stood over John, his gun still trained on the man who had dared to offer him a seat in his twisted empire. Ivan's smile was gone now, replaced by a look of quiet fury.
"Goodbye, Mr. Metallia," Ivan muttered, turning away. But his grip on the gun didn't relax, and his mind stayed sharp. He knew John wasn't finished, not yet.
Ivan hadn't anticipated the confrontation ending so swiftly.
The .455 caliber bullet tore through the air, finding its mark squarely in John's forehead. The round unleashed its devastating power, destroying both flesh and brain with surgical precision. At close range, without any defenses, even a wizard like John stood no chance.
For a moment, disbelief etched itself onto John's face. His body staggered, then collapsed backward, hitting the ground with an eerie finality. The silence around them was unbroken, as if the world itself had chosen to turn away.
Ivan crouched beside the lifeless body, his expression calm yet resolute. He opened his palm, activating his spatial ability, and John's body disappeared into the void. The faint ripple of energy was the only trace left of the man who had, moments ago, tried to recruit Ivan into a monstrous plan.
As John's witchcraft dissipated with his death, sound rushed back into Ivan's world like a floodgate opening. First, muffled noise, then the bustling clarity of life: the music of the street band, the chatter of pedestrians, the hum of passing carriages. The city was alive again, oblivious to the dark deed that had just occurred.
Ivan straightened, brushing off his coat, and tilted his head back to look at the sky. For the first time in a long while, clarity settled over him.
He couldn't abandon decency for profit, not like John or the Metallia family. Their vision of the world, one where power and greed trampled over humanity, ignited a fire within him that he hadn't felt in years.
John's plan hadn't stirred visions of power or ambition in Ivan's mind. Instead, it filled him with pure, unrelenting rage. The thought of breeding wizards like livestock, of turning humans into tools for dominance, disgusted him to his core.
*I'm not from this world of wizards,* Ivan thought, his lips curling into a bitter smile. *I'm from a place where people dream of beauty and freedom, where hope and kindness mean something.*
That inner light, faint and often buried under the grime of his choices, now burned brighter in the face of such darkness. The more the world around him revealed its cruelty, the more that faint flame refused to be extinguished.
*Smuggling, drugs, money, they can wait. This... this is what I need to fight.*
Ivan chuckled under his breath as the realization settled in. *No wonder the Senator said I'd change my mind.* He reached for the piece of paper with the Senator's contact address, but his pockets came up empty.
*Gone.* He sighed, then shrugged. *No matter. I think I can figure it out.*
As he turned to leave, he noticed the band wrapping up their performance. The lead singer, a wiry man with a wide, infectious grin, was thanking the small crowd of onlookers.
Ivan approached with a genuine smile. "That last song, it was beautiful. What's it called?"
The lead singer flashed his pearly white teeth. "Glad you liked it, sir. It's called *What a Wonderful World*."
---
The door to the gun shop creaked open, and the owner, lounging with a newspaper, looked up. His eyes narrowed slightly when he recognized Ivan.
"Back again, eh?" the owner said, his tone guarded.
Ivan wasted no time. "I need to meet with the Senator. You know who I mean."
The shopkeeper leaned forward, his expression wary. "And who should I say is asking?"
"Tell him it's Ivan," he replied evenly. "He'll understand."
For a moment, the shopkeeper studied Ivan's face, as if weighing the risks of making the call. Finally, he nodded, reached for the telephone, and dialed a number.
A quarter-hour later, a sleek black car pulled up outside the shop. Without a word, Ivan climbed in, and the car set off, gliding through the bustling streets and out toward the outskirts of the city.
---
The manor they arrived at was a picture of understated luxury, a classic symbol of old-world wealth. The house was expansive, the exterior framed by manicured gardens. Inside, the hallways were lined with rich carpets, and the stairs leading to the upper floor were crafted from rare, polished wood. Yet there was an eerie stillness about the place; no servants, no ambient noise, just the faint creak of the floorboards underfoot.
A man in black led Ivan upstairs to a study, where two figures waited. One was the Senator, his sharp features framed by a calm but calculating expression. Beside him stood Santos Robbins, a man whose presence was a palpable force. His piercing gaze and commanding aura immediately put Ivan on edge.
"So," Ivan said, his voice steady but edged with caution. "You're indeed with the Robbins family, Senator."
The Senator gave a faint smile, but it was Santos who spoke first, his voice a low rumble. "And you've been busy, haven't you?"
Ivan met Santos's gaze evenly. "Busy enough to know that your rivals are breeding an army, and they don't seem to care who gets hurt in the process."
Santos's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Then it seems our interests align, for now."
The Senator gestured to a chair. "Please, Mr. Ivan. Let's discuss how we can help each other."
Ivan took a seat, his mind already bracing for the twists ahead. He knew that in a city ruled by shadows, even alliances came at a cost.