Absolute King Chapter 14.

Chapter 14: A snake's proposal.

Inside the grand, dimly lit halls of Luthor’s mansion, the air felt unnervingly still. The flicker of a chandelier cast golden shadows across the marble floor as Mark stood silently, his crimson eyes fixed on the man before him.

Luthor’s gaze, sharp and calculated, never left him. He observed Mark as if he were an exotic creature—rare, dangerous, and infinitely valuable.

For Luthor, the Holy Grail was more than an artifact; it was an obsession. The way Mark wielded it, the way his strange abilities resonated with it—this boy was a mystery wrapped in temptation. And Luthor was a man who lived to dissect mysteries.

Mark, however, knew the truth about Luthor. He had read enough, seen enough, to recognize the man for what he truly was: a viper in a suit, someone who would twist and strangle anything for the promise of power. The Light was his tool, and power his only creed. Yet the thought that this very snake believed in the Grail’s ability to grant wishes sent a thrill down Mark’s spine. If even Luthor was convinced, then perhaps the Grail held more weight than even Mark himself had dared imagine.

A slow, deliberate smirk curled across Mark’s lips. His voice, soft but edged with curiosity, cut through the silence.

“Tell me, Luthor—how do you know I wasn’t lying back there? When I said I could bring my father back.”

Luthor leaned back slightly, his own smirk mirroring Mark’s, though his carried the arrogance of certainty. He paused long enough to let the tension draw tight before answering.

“Because, boy, I know when someone is lying. It’s my talent—my art. No one deceives me in that game.”

Mark’s expression tightened, but he said nothing. Luthor’s voice carried a calm assurance that was almost maddening. Then, after a beat, he added,

“However, what troubles me is this… that you would hand the Grail to someone else. Someone I cannot predict.”

The words struck like a needle. Mark’s composure wavered for just a moment, though he quickly buried it. Luthor’s eyes caught the reaction instantly, gleaming with satisfaction.

“That is why I’ll make you an offer,” Luthor continued smoothly, his voice rich with persuasion. “Promise me the Grail. Place it under my control… and in return, I’ll return your father. Safe. Sound. After all, he is under my custody now.”

Silence stretched between them. Mark’s crimson gaze did not falter, yet his tongue refused to form an answer. The weight of Luthor’s bargain pressed down on him, but instead of replying, he simply turned on his heel. His silence was his response.

Behind him, Luthor’s voice drifted out like a final arrow aimed at his back.

“Think about it, Mr. Flinch.”

Mercy Graves appeared at his side, her expression as unreadable as ever, and wordlessly escorted him toward the elevator. The steel doors closed with a hiss, cutting Luthor’s smug presence from sight.

Outside, Mark stepped into the cool night air, his thoughts circling like vultures. He hailed a cab, his hand half-raised—yet the sudden ripple of displaced wind made him pause. A shadow passed overhead, followed by a familiar streak of red and blue.

Descending gracefully from the sky, a golden-haired figure hovered before him, cape flowing gently in the breeze. It was Kara.

“You took your time,” she said with a faint smile, though her voice carried an undercurrent of worry.

“For a second, I thought that madman might’ve hurt you.”

Mark’s lips curled into a faint grin, though he said nothing at first. Kara studied him closely, searching his face for reassurance.

“Want me to take you home?” she asked.

He considered. A cab was an option, sure, but the thought of wasting time and what little money he had left felt bitter. His funds from selling replicas of the phantasms to collectors were dwindling fast, and using the Gordius Chariot would eat too deeply into his mana reserves.

That left only one option—her.

“If you don’t mind,” Mark finally answered.

But Kara hesitated. She crossed her arms, her tone carrying a playful edge that almost masked her seriousness.

“Remember, you’ll owe me one for this.”

Mark chuckled softly and nodded. “Deal.”

Without another word, Kara swept him off his feet with ease. The city of Manhattan stretched below them, its countless lights glittering like a sea of stars. The wind rushed past, cool and invigorating, as she carried him across the skyline. They landed outside his bedroom window, avoiding the front door to keep his mother unaware.

Mark slipped inside first, holding the curtain aside as Kara followed. She settled herself casually on the edge of his bed, her cape draped across the sheets.

“So,” she asked, tilting her head, “what now? You gonna tell me why you were with that psycho?”

Mark cleared his throat, his mind heavy with what he’d seen. He explained it all—his father’s abduction, Luthor’s hand in the deaths of the children on television, and the twisted deal the man had offered. Kara’s face hardened with every word. By the time he finished, her fists clenched at her sides.

“That’s it,” she said sharply. “I’m going back there and ending this.”

Mark’s hand shot out, gently catching her wrist. His voice was firm.

“Relax. I have a plan. When the time comes, I’ll let you in on it.”

Her shoulders eased reluctantly, though her eyes still burned with fury.

A small notification then flickered across Mark’s interface—subtle, but clear. He had left a trace of his magic woven into Luthor’s suit, a thread of mana that allowed him to follow every move the man made. Relief washed over him. He wasn’t blind in this game.

The room fell quiet, the only sound the faint ticking of a clock on the wall. Kara broke the silence first, her voice softer this time.

“So… got any plans this weekend?”

She shifted slightly, her thighs brushing together. The gesture was innocent, yet the faint blush rising in her cheeks betrayed more. Mark’s eyes flickered down for a moment before he caught himself. She was beautiful—no one could deny that. Kara was a perfect ten, radiant and kind, the kind of girl any guy would be proud to call his own.

And yet, in the recess of his mind, another face surfaced. Raven. Dark, quiet, mysterious. To him, her beauty outshone Kara’s in its subtle, almost dangerous way.

“Sorry,” Mark said finally. “I’ve got something planned this weekend.”

Kara blinked, surprised. The blush faded from her cheeks as she lowered her gaze.

“Oh. Of course.”

Her next words came almost as a whisper, as though she didn’t want him to hear.

“…Is it with Raven?”

But Mark heard.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I want to ask her about my powers. You can come along if you’d like.”

The offer was meant to lighten her mood, but Kara shook her head quickly. She forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“No… I’d just get in the way.”

She stood, brushing herself off, and moved toward the window. “Call me if something comes up.”

“Yeah,” Mark said softly.

When she was gone, silence reclaimed the room. Only then did the familiar chime of his system interface ring out, accompanied by the banter of the kings.

[Gilgamesh: How pathetic. You really are into demons, aren’t you?]

[Iskandar: Kid! It’d be a waste to let such fine meat slip by. Why not take both of them?]

[Mark: Just shut up already.]

[Solomon: I must agree… Supergirl is like a flower blooming under the sun. A man would be a fool not to pursue her.]

[Ozymandias: Hmph. A fair point. Yet still, she pales beside my queen.]

[Artoria: …]

The King of Knights remained silent. Iskandar’s booming voice returned quickly.

[Iskandar: King of Knights, why so quiet? No experience with love? Or were you too bound by duty to indulge in life’s pleasures?]

[Artoria: I was married to my kingdom. To my people. Romance was… trivial to me.]

[Iskandar: Ha! And that’s why your kingdom fell. You sacrificed too much for duty, and in the end, it betrayed you.]

[Artoria: …]

She said nothing. But her silence spoke volumes. The sting of Iskandar’s words cut deep—reminding her of the truth she wished she could forget.