Lena studied the document.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because Sloane has taken an interest in you."
"He's never met me."
"Not officially."
Ward opened another folder.
Inside were printed photographs from various martial arts competitions. Some showed crowded tournament halls. Others showed athletes standing beside medal podiums.
One photograph had been circled in red.
A woman in a dark competition jacket stood beside a referee, her face partially obscured by the angle of the camera.
Lena stared at it.
She remembered that tournament.
She remembered the referee's expression, the crowd shouting, and the injury that had ended a promising young fighter's career.
She also remembered the silver emblem.
"Where did you get this?"
"Sloane sent it to me yesterday. He asked whether I recognized you."
"Did you tell him?"
"No."
Lena closed the folder.
"Good."
Ward leaned back in his chair.
"Would you like to explain what happened at that tournament?"
"Not yet."
"Fair enough."
He studied her for a moment.
"I won't ask you to fight anyone. But I need to know whether your presence here creates a risk for my students."
Lena appreciated the directness.
"I don't intend to bring trouble to your academy. But if Sloane is connected to what happened years ago, I won't pretend I don't recognize him."
Ward nodded.
"Then we have a problem."
A knock sounded at the door.
Marcus entered without waiting for permission.
"Master Ward, Sloane is here."
Ward's expression hardened.
"I didn't invite him."
"He says it's urgent."
"Then he can wait."
Marcus looked at Lena.
"You two seem to have a lot to discuss."
"Not your concern," Ward replied.
Marcus ignored him.
"Sloane wants a demonstration next week. He says it could attract national attention."
"Of course he does," Ward said.
"He's offering to cover our travel costs if we sign a preliminary agreement."
"And what does he expect in return?"
"A showcase match."
Ward looked at Lena.
Marcus noticed.
"No," he said immediately. "Absolutely not."
"I haven't said anything," Lena replied.
"You don't need to. This is about our team."
Ward stood.
"Marcus, you are not authorized to negotiate on behalf of this academy."
"Then let me compete independently."
"Against whom?"
Marcus's eyes shifted toward Lena.
The answer was obvious.
Master Ward's voice became cold.
"Get out."
Marcus stiffened.
"You're choosing her over us?"
"I'm choosing the academy over your ego."
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Marcus turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Ward closed his eyes briefly.
Lena remained silent.
Finally, he looked at her.
"Sloane will not stop now."
"No," she agreed. "He won't."
Outside the office, the sound of footsteps faded down the hallway.
Lena picked up the folder and returned it to the desk.
She had spent years trying to convince herself that the past could remain where she had left it.
Now the past had found her.
And this time, it had arrived wearing a silver emblem.
Victor Sloane stood in the academy's reception area as though he owned the building.
He was in his early fifties, immaculately dressed, with silver hair and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. The emblem on his lapel caught the morning light whenever he moved.
Marcus stood beside him.
Derek had joined them, while Julian remained near the entrance to the training hall, watching the conversation without participating.
Master Ward emerged from his office.
"Victor."
"Elias. Always a pleasure."
"You weren't invited."
"Business rarely waits for invitations."
Ward gestured toward the door.
"Then you can conduct yours somewhere else."
Sloane laughed softly.
"You haven't changed."
"Neither have you."
The smile disappeared from Sloane's face for a fraction of a second.
Then he turned toward the fighters.
"Fortunately, your students understand the importance of opportunity."
Marcus straightened.
Sloane continued.
"Ironclad has talent. But talent without exposure is wasted. My organization can provide professional coaching, sponsorship opportunities, televised competitions, and connections with international promoters."
Derek listened intently.
Julian's expression remained skeptical.
"What do you want from us?" Julian asked.
"Commitment."
"That sounds vague."
"Exclusive representation for your competitive team, participation in selected events, and cooperation with our promotional partners."
"And if someone refuses?"
"Then they can compete independently."
Sloane delivered the answer smoothly, as though it were perfectly reasonable.
Lena entered the room carrying a notebook.
Sloane noticed her immediately.
"Miss Mercer. We meet again."
"We haven't met."
"Not personally."
He extended his hand.
She did not take it.
"Then you already know my name."
"I make it my business to know talented athletes."
"Do you?"
"Of course."
Lena studied him.
"Then you should know that I haven't competed in years."
"Which makes your return particularly interesting."
Master Ward stepped forward.
"Victor, whatever your interest in Lena, she isn't part of this negotiation."
"Everything that happens in this academy affects the academy."
"Not everything is yours to manage."
Sloane sighed.
"Elias, you mistake caution for wisdom. The world of competitive martial arts has changed. People want stories. They want personalities. They want rivalries."