Dominic didn't waste time.
Janet stayed behind at Camp Stymphalian, officially "recovering," unofficially serving as second-in-command while Alex remained underground.
By sunrise the next day, Dominic, Jake, Jack, Joanne, Séline, and Camille were already moving toward the gate.
The shift from dungeon air to surface air always felt strange.
Like stepping out of myth and back into paperwork.
They didn't take public transport.
They went straight to Hà Nội Corner.
Uncle Long was already behind the counter, like he had expected them.
"You need car," Long said before Dominic could speak.
Dominic nodded.
"Borrowing."
Long pointed a finger.
"Return full tank."
Dominic raised three fingers.
"Promise."
Long slid the keys across without another word.
"No scratch."
"No scratch."
Long leaned in a little and lowered his voice.
"Surface noisy. Be careful."
Dominic gave a short nod.
Then they piled into the car.
Dominic drove.
First stop: the Vogels.
They didn't stay long.
Just long enough to check.
Mr. Vogel was outside the bakery arguing with a supplier about flour quality.
Mrs. Vogel was inside rearranging pastries in the display case with terrifying precision.
Normal.
Safe.
That mattered.
Dominic understood the math without anyone saying it.
Alexandra Vogel was A-class.
Mindblade.
Arbiter.
Popular.
Influential.
Her parents were not expendable.
Erasing them would never be quiet.
It could even hand another country, Germany for example, a reason to make a claim on an Arbiter Mindblade's service if something happened to her family.
Not like a level 1 farmer's aunt and uncle.
That thought hung in the air heavier than anyone voiced.
Mrs. Vogel hugged Séline and Camille like daughters coming home.
Mr. Vogel clapped Dominic on the shoulder.
"Drive safe."
"I will."
Then they left.
---
The road stretched long and flat.
Fields.
Billboards.
Radio chatter about the G7 conference in Washington, DC.
Politicians smiling.
Flags waving.
Economic promises.
Dominic drove through the afternoon without complaint.
Jake handled directions.
Jack slept.
Joanne scrolled through social media.
Séline and Camille watched the passing landscape in silence.
At night, Dominic pulled into a gas station off a quiet highway.
Neon lights.
Flickering sign.
The air smelled of gasoline and cheap fried food.
"Food break," Dominic said.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
A TV near the cashier was playing a live interview.
Olen.
High-collar sweater.
Perfect hair.
Freckles arranged like deliberate design.
He sat across from a polished interviewer with a subtle G7 banner behind them.
Dominic stopped mid-step.
"…Of course."
The interviewer asked about "the recent shipping rumors."
Olen smiled modestly.
A masterclass smile.
"I think it was a misunderstanding," he said smoothly.
He didn't deny chasing Alex.
He didn't deny the rumors.
He reframed them.
"I believe women should never lower their standards," he continued.
"They deserve freedom to choose. And I respect that."
Golden retriever energy poured off the screen.
Soft eyes.
Measured voice.
Steady, gentle tone.
"If she chooses someone else, that is her right," he added.
"But I will always try to show that I can stand beside strong, independent women as an ally."
Dominic made a sound somewhere between a snort and a cough.
The interviewer nodded like this was inspiring.
"So you're saying you'll remain patient?"
Olen laughed lightly.
"Persistence doesn't have to be pressure. It can be respect."
Masterful.
He had flipped the whole thing.
From media manipulation to romantic perseverance.
From entitlement to empowerment rhetoric.
The interviewer nodded again.
Comments raced under the broadcast.
Hashtags from his media machine multiplied by the hour.
#RespectfulKing
#PatientLove
#LetHerChoose
Dominic stood still for a second.
Then snorted loudly.
Jake muttered, "That's manipulation."
Joanne scoffed.
"He just weaponized feminism."
Jack shook his head.
"Golden retriever PR build."
They grabbed food fast.
No one wanted to hear more.
Outside, the cool night air hit harder.
They got back in the car.
Doors shut.
Silence for three seconds.
Then Camille let out a slow breath.
"This is… dangerous."
Dominic glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
"Explain."
Séline leaned forward a little.
"If he is comfortable saying this in an interview tied to the G7 conference…"
She chose her words carefully.
"That means his parents approve."
The car went quiet.
Jake frowned.
"Approve of what?"
Camille finished it.
"Of Alex being a target."
Not a romantic target.
A strategic one.
An Arbiter Mindblade was rare.
An Arbiter Mindblade with a heroine image, vigilante aura, and real respect in diver circles was even rarer.
Maybe one of a kind.
Influence in diver space mattered.
Alex could shape conflict.
Shift outcomes.
If she wanted.
And if Olen secured someone like Alex in public, it would strengthen his brand.
Strengthen his influence.
Strengthen his family's place in the dungeon economy.
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"So it's not just ego."
"No," Séline said softly. "It is alliance-building."
Camille nodded.
"In politics, marriage has always meant consolidation."
Dominic tapped the steering wheel once.
"He thinks he can push her with narrative until saying yes becomes easier than saying no."
Joanne added, "And if she rejects too hard, he flips it into 'I was always respectful.'"
Jake leaned back.
"He built a no-lose setup."
Dominic exhaled slowly.
"Not entirely."
He shifted gears.
"There's one problem."
"What?" Jack asked.
"He underestimated her."
The engine hummed as they pulled back onto the highway.
"She doesn't bend because it's convenient."
Dominic's voice carried quiet certainty.
"And Phong isn't someone you erase without consequences."
He didn't explain further.
He didn't need to.
The dungeon was changing.
Alliances were forming.
Floor bosses were moving.
And Olen, for all his polish, was still playing politics on the surface.
Down below, different rules applied.
The headlights cut through the dark as they drove toward Washington.
Behind them, Olen smiled for cameras.
Ahead of them, media storms gathered.
But somewhere underground, a level 1 farmer was quietly reshaping an entire floor.
And if Olen's parents really approved of targeting Alexandra Vogel, then they were stepping into a game they did not fully understand.
---
Phong lay flat on the wooden floor of the leader's room, staring at the ceiling beams like a defeated raid boss.
Every muscle ached.
Not injured.
Not poisoned.
Just exhausted.
Alex lay beside him, propped lazily on one elbow, looking far too pleased with herself.
He turned his head slowly.
"You did that on purpose."
She blinked with fake innocence.
"Did what?"
"Turn me into overcooked noodles."
She laughed softly and brushed a loose strand of hair off his forehead.
"Told you it was too late."
"That's not the point."
She leaned closer, voice playful.
"You complain, but you never say stop. Admit it, farm boy. You enjoyed it."
He groaned.
It had become an inside joke between them.
Alexandra Vogel.
A-class Arbiter Mindblade.
Intelligence in the triple digits.
Lowest stat near a hundred.
And yet when they were alone, she clearly enjoyed proving that even when she was gentle, she could still wreck a level 1 farmer.
She kissed his cheek lightly.
"You're cute when you're tired."
"I look like a zombie right now."
"Not mutually exclusive."
Before he could argue, a faint chirping cut through the room.
Little Fireball.
The red-gold chick perched on the table, tablet propped up with absurd care.
K-drama still playing.
She had missed pecking the next episode.
Autoplay took over.
The drama faded.
A familiar face filled the screen.
Olen.
Full interview mode.
Golden retriever aura at maximum.
Little Fireball froze mid-peck.
Her tiny head tilted.
Alex's name came through the speakers.
The chick's eyes narrowed.
Phong and Alex both turned.
"…Oh, for fuck's sake," Phong muttered.
On-screen, Olen was mid-sentence.
"…empowering women… freedom to choose… persistence with respect…"
Alex's expression shifted from amused to mildly annoyed.
Phong smirked.
"The little bastard has his eyes on you now."
He reached out and brushed the tip of her nose with one finger.
She squinted at him and fired back at once.
"His friend is coming for your head too."
Josh.
The reminder was casual.
But real.
Phong lifted a brow.
"Then should I be scared? Maybe if I offer Olen my girl, he'll spare me."
Alex's eyes sharpened instantly.
"If you even think about doing that, it's me your ass needs to worry about."
They held eye contact for half a second.
Then both burst out laughing.
He had come a long way.
From overthinking every word, to joking with Alex about dark things without fear.
That was trust.
They both knew the other wasn't serious.
Neither felt hurt.
Little Fireball chirped loudly at the sudden noise, then went back to the tablet like a tiny judgmental aunt.
Phong shifted carefully, trying not to wince.
"Okay," he said, sitting up slowly. "Work."
Alex rolled onto her back with exaggerated sorrow.
"Romance over?"
"For now."
He reached for the basket.
Berserking Strawberries.
Explosive Greenpeas.
He handed one strawberry to Alex.
"Miss Mindblade, would you mind appraising this for me?"
"Alright, farm boy. But that is no way for a peasant to address a noble."
She was teasing, but her eyes sharpened as she focused.
Stats scanned.
Mana patterns opened.
The menu flickered.
Then settled.
She inhaled lightly.
"Well."
"What?"
"These are basically cheat codes."
She read slowly.
"Double all stats."
Phong blinked.
"…What?"
"For one minute."
His brain stalled.
"And after?"
She scrolled.
"One full day of extreme weakness."
Silence.
He stared at the berry.
"That's not a snack."
"No," she said calmly. "That's an overdrive button."
His mind immediately started running through cases.
Dominic.
Janet.
Jake.
A floor boss.
A last stand.
Double everything for sixty seconds?
It was absurd.
Terrifying.
Brilliant.
He swallowed.
"And the peas?"
Alex picked up a pod.
Focused again.
"…Oh."
"What?"
"Explosive Greenpeas."
A pause.
"Permanent plus 0.1 Dexterity."
Phong frowned.
"…Like Angry Chillies?"
"Stackable up to plus one."
His eyes widened.
Permanent.
Stackable.
Ten peas.
Plus one Dexterity.
No drawback.
"Yeah. Same logic as Red Angry Chillies," Alex murmured. "Different stat."
Phong leaned back slowly.
He had been right about the strawberries.
Wrong about the peas.
One was a suicide sprint.
A last-ditch button.
The other was a long-term investment.
He grabbed his phone at once.
Typed fast.
Sent it to Dominic.
[Berserking Strawberry: x2 all stats for 1 minute, then 1 day extreme weakness.
Explosive Greenpeas: +0.1 DEX permanent, stackable to +1.]
He hit send.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed violently.
[Dominic: WHAT.]
Another message.
[Jake: He stood up so fast he almost hit the car roof.]
[Joanne: He did hit it.]
[Dominic: Farm boy, you will give people a heart attack if you keep dropping bombshells like this through a freaking chat.]
Phong smirked faintly.
[Just harvested.]
[Dominic: SAVE THEM. DO NOT TEST RANDOMLY.]
[I know.]
[Dominic: WE NEED A PLAN FOR THAT STRAWBERRY.]
[It's emergency-only.]
[Dominic: UNDERSTATEMENT.]
Alex leaned over to read the messages.
She smiled faintly.
"He sounds excited."
"He is."
She lay back down and looked at the strawberry between her fingers.
"You realize this changes things."
He nodded.
"With a Judgenaut, Valkyrie, and Mindblade at level 30…"
She finished the thought.
"…one minute of doubled stats could kill something way above our class."
"And one day of weakness means that person needs protection afterward."
She looked at him from the side.
"You'd use it on someone else before yourself?"
He shrugged.
"I'm level 1."
She flicked his forehead.
"Stop saying that like it defines you."
"Relevant for the strawberries though. Two times 9 is still just 18. That barely clears goblin level."
He smiled faintly.
Little Fireball chirped loudly again.
On the tablet, Olen's interview had looped into a highlight segment.
"…I'll patiently wait for her to notice…"
The chick pecked the screen once in offense.
Alex leaned over and closed the video.
"No more."
Silence returned.
Phong exhaled slowly.
His body still sore.
His stats still pathetic compared to hers.
But now he had overdrive fruit.
Permanent stat peas.
Underground alliances.
And a girlfriend who could crush boulders with her mind.
He lay back down carefully.
Alex curled against him again at once.
"You're still tired," she murmured.
"Yes."
She smiled into his shoulder.
"Good."
He sighed.
"I'm going to need Stoic Garlic just to survive you."
She laughed softly.
Outside, Camp Stymphalian stood stronger than ever.
And somewhere on a highway, Dominic was probably still rubbing his head after nearly concussing himself over a strawberry.
For a level 1 farmer, Phong was starting to look dangerously equipped.
---
Alex's phone started vibrating again.
Not once.
Not twice.
A steady stream.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
She ignored it at first.
Phong didn't.
He was half sitting, half collapsing against the headboard, still feeling like his bones had been replaced with jelly after her earlier "pampering."
"Popular today," he murmured.
Alex finally picked up the phone.
Messages.
Old professors from debate club.
Former classmates.
College friends.
People who had not texted her in months.
[What do you think about Olen's interview?]
[He has a point about standards, don't you think?]
[You deserve someone ambitious.]
[Just curious, are you considering it?]
The wording was polite.
Too polite.
Alex's face did not change.
She locked the screen.
"They're counting cash," she said flatly.
Phong raised a brow.
"They get paid?"
"One way or another. Direct money? Probably. Indirectly? Even more likely. Stand on the right side of a narrative, get invited to the right events, maybe land a consulting job, maybe pick up a useful connection. Absolutely."
She shrugged.
"It's not always cash in an envelope. Sometimes it's future opportunity."
He watched her for a moment.
"Is he bothering you too much?"
She didn't answer right away.
So he asked again, more softly.
"Do you need me to handle this?"
The room went quiet.
Little Fireball paused the K-drama again, reacting more to the tone than the words.
Alex turned slowly.
She knew him.
Knew how his mind worked.
If she said yes, he would step in.
He would put himself between her and the media storm.
He would do interviews.
Let himself be painted as the villain.
Take the heat until the spotlight shifted.
He would protect her the same way he protected Camp Stymphalian.
By painting a huge bright target on his own back.
And she didn't want that.
So she moved closer instead.
Cupped his face in both hands.
Her thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones.
"Don't," she said quietly.
He held her gaze.
"I can handle attention."
"I know you can."
"But you shouldn't have to."
She smiled faintly.
"I keep diving for a reason."
He tilted his head a little.
"Because you like punching things?"
"That too."
She rested her forehead lightly against his.
"I'm fighting my own war."
She didn't need to explain.
The diver world.
Corporate influence.
Narratives that shaped life and death.
She was strong enough to stand in that space.
And she wanted to.
"So that," she finished softly, "when it matters most, I stand next to you. Not behind you. Not protected by you."
His hand moved to her waist on instinct.
He nodded.
"And if you ever need me?"
She smirked faintly.
"You're one sentence away."
He echoed it.
"You're one sentence away too."
Little Fireball chirped loudly.
Almost judgmental.
As if to say: Where is the dramatic misunderstanding? Where is the betrayal arc? This relationship is badly written.
Phong laughed.
"Sorry," he told the chick. "We're boring."
Alex leaned fully into him.
He wrapped both arms around her.
For a moment, the world shrank to two people holding each other in a wooden room underground.
Then—
Ping.
One more notification.
Different tone.
Unknown number.
Alex frowned and unlocked it.
The message was short.
Transcripted.
Professional.
It was Emma.
[You never heard this from me.
Josh and Olen made an alliance.
They want Phong dead.
Be careful.]
That was all.
Phong blinked.
"…Huh."
He had not expected that.
Not from her.
Alex, on the other hand, did not look surprised.
She typed a simple reply.
[Thank you.]
Then she locked the phone and let out a slow breath.
"He wanted a chance," she said quietly.
Phong tightened his arms around her a little.
"You gonna give him one?"
Her smile turned sharp.
"I'm going to let the media think I gave him one."
He raised a brow.
"And?"
"And he never had the slightest chance from the start."
She shifted and turned to face him fully.
Her face was no longer playful.
No longer amused.
Controlled.
Measured.
"And if he doesn't know how to take the L," she said calmly, "he'll come for you. To make me 'available' again."
The meaning settled heavy between them.
He studied her closely.
"And if that happens?"
She did not hesitate.
"Don't intervene."
His jaw tightened slightly.
She held his gaze.
"His life is mine if he tries that again."
The temperature in the room changed.
She wasn't joking.
Not this time.
She was thinking about the assassins.
The attempt before G7.
The blood on dungeon soil.
She had not forgotten.
She had not forgiven.
Phong looked at her for a long moment.
He had seen her fierce before.
In battle.
Against trolls.
Against elite mobs.
But this was different.
Controlled fury.
Personal.
"I've never seen this lioness side of you," he murmured.
Her eyes softened a little at the word.
"I don't show it often."
"I noticed."
She leaned in closer.
"But I won't let someone think you're disposable."
He laughed softly.
"I'm a level 1 farmer. To the higher-ups, I'm basically statistical noise."
She flicked his forehead.
"Then I'll just make you into a statistical sonic boom."
He studied her face.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Only certainty.
He exhaled.
"Okay."
That was his answer.
Not surrender.
Not agreement to stand aside.
Just trust.
Trust that she meant it.
Trust that if a line got crossed, she would draw her own in blood.
Little Fireball chirped again.
On the tablet, the K-drama had resumed.
A jealous rival schemed under dim lighting.
The chick pecked the screen in irritation.
Alex leaned back into Phong's chest.
He wrapped himself around her again.
Outside, Camp Stymphalian stood calm.
Inside, two people made quiet promises without ceremony.
On the surface, alliances formed.
Egos bruised.
Narratives twisted.
And somewhere in Washington, two young men were probably congratulating themselves on their strategy.
They had no idea that the woman at the center of their plans had already drawn her line.
And that the "ordinary" farmer they targeted was not alone.
Phong rested his chin lightly on Alex's head.
"If he makes a move," he said quietly, "we handle it together."
She didn't argue.
Didn't soften it.
She just nodded once.
Together.
Little Fireball finally pecked the tablet correctly and advanced to the next episode.
At least someone in the room respected proper drama pacing.