Ch. 47 – The Only Option

Rhys stood motionless, his entire frame frozen as he stared across the coffee table at Shula. She looked back at him with a gaze that was warm, intense, and utterly radiant—completely dead serious about the offer she had just placed on the table.

As the silence stretched, Rhys fully absorbed the terrifying severity of the moment. A heavy realization settled over him: Lira had likely been forced to hear this exact same proposition moments before he had walked through the front door. She had been left alone to defend their marriage, standing her ground against a ancient, immovable force. Looking at Shula’s rigid, unyielding posture, Rhys could see that the Ifrit socialite was as stubborn as a bull. Lira couldn’t possibly win an argument against her; she had simply been stalling, holding the line as best as she could until Rhys returned.

Unexpectedly, it was Darius who broke the suffocating tension in the room. He leaned forward, attempting to level with Rhys man-to-man.

“Look, Rhys... think about how long we’ve known each other,” Darius said, his deep voice carrying a quiet, pleading weight. “We’ve bled on the same battlefields. We’re practically brothers by now. I want you to know... I genuinely have no issues with the offer we’re extending to you. I’m completely on board with this.”

That’s fantastic for you, Darius, Rhys thought bitterly, his jaw clenching as his mind raced. Because I have several!

Rhys deliberately kept his eyes locked on the coffee table, refusing to glance down at Lira. He knew with absolute certainty that if he looked at his wife right now—if he saw the pain and vulnerability in her eyes while his own mind was still recovering from the secret sins across the street—something inside him might shatter. He would crack under the unbearable pressure. Even without looking, he knew how she must look: exhausted, cornered, and deeply unsettled.

And that was entirely unacceptable. A sudden, fierce blaze of protective anger ignited in Rhys’s chest, burning away his hesitation as he took back the reins of the conversation.

Suddenly, Rhys erupted into a loud, booming roar of laughter.

The sudden burst of noise startled Darius, who flinched slightly in his seat. Beside Rhys, Lira shuffled uneasily, her shoulders loosening just a fraction as she began to utter a faint, uncertain chuckle, instinctively sinking slightly behind her husband’s large frame for protection.

Shula, however, didn’t budge. She remained entirely still, her fiery eyes tracking Rhys with a sharp, puzzled intensity, as if she were a grandmaster trying to decode an unexpected move on a chessboard.

Rhys decided the smartest tactical play was to treat the entire proposal like a absurd joke, brushing it off as if it were nothing. He politely shrugged, putting on a relaxed grin and making a self-deprecating jab at his own expense.

“Ah, come on, Shula, you don’t want these messed-up genes,” Rhys said, waving a hand dismissively. “My kinetic cells are completely shot, and half my bones creak just going up the stairs nowadays. Trust me, you two are much better off finding a better man for the job.”

Hoping to force an immediate exit before the topic could be reopened, Rhys played even dumber, glancing at his watch with practiced casualness. “Look at the time! It’s getting pretty late, and I’d hate to keep you two any longer. We should probably wrap this up.”

Darius practically flinched with relief. He looked like he was ready to leap out of his seat and head straight for the front door, eager to follow Rhys’s cue and escape the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Shula, however, didn’t move an inch.

She sat back comfortably, leaning her head against her hand as she looked up at Rhys. “Darius and I own dozens of grand estates across the world, Rhys,” she explained softly, her voice smooth and deliberate. “Do you know why we chose to move back to this specific suburban town out of everywhere else on Earth? Because this was the only place that had Omen.”

A cold, visceral shudder ran straight down Rhys’s spine at the sound of his old hero mantle being hurled at him like a vice.

“When I asked you to retell those old battle stories at dinner the other night,” Shula continued, a terrifyingly fond smile playing on her lips, “it wasn’t just casual nostalgia. I was confirming my hypothesis. I was proving without a shadow of a doubt that you were the absolute right fit.”

“What do you mean?” Rhys blurted out, his tactical instinct failing him as curiosity got the better of his judgment.

Dammit, Rhys cursed internally the second the words left his mouth. I fell right into her trap.

Shula’s smile widened slightly. “I mean that you, as Omen, were a true biological miracle. An absolute outlier among outliers. You were a street-level human with no divine lineage or cosmic heritage, yet through sheer willpower and tactical brilliance, you managed to climb to the absolute top... and mingle casually among virtual gods.”

As she spoke the words “virtual gods,” Shula made a subtle, dismissive gesture toward Lira.

A sharp spike of rage flared in Rhys’s chest. He felt Lira stiffen against his side, her discomfort painfully obvious. How dare she take a backhanded shot at my wife in our own home, Rhys thought, his hands clenching into fists.

“Now listen here, Shula,” Rhys said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl as he stepped forward. “You are starting to cross a line. I would strongly suggest you stop right now while we can still end this night pleasantly.”

Darius finally mustered the courage to speak up, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Shula, Rhys’s right. That’s enough for tonight. We should get going—”

“No, Darius,” Shula interrupted smoothly, not even looking at her husband as she cut him off. Her attention remained entirely fixed on Rhys, her tone taking on a clinical, terrifying devotion. “What I am saying, Rhys, is that you are the only possible option. My physiology requires the absolute peak of human resilience to survive the incubation process. No other man will ever do.”

Rhys felt an icy chill travel straight down his spine. The sheer absurdity and raw audacity of her statement left him feeling profoundly embarrassed on behalf of his old friend. Your husband is sitting right next to you, Shula! Jesus Christ! Rhys thought in silent horror.

Yet when Rhys cast a fleeting glance at Darius, the man offered no defense. Darius simply looked back at Rhys in grim, silent resignation. He couldn’t deny her logic; he had spent years watching Shula systematically reject every other medical alternative, knowing that in her mind, only the legendary peak of human capability would ever suffice.

Deep within the tactical, dark corners of Rhys’s mind, he searched frantically for a flaw in her argument, finally finding the exact needle he needed to puncture her relentless logic.

“How can you possibly be so certain, Shula?” Rhys challenged, leaning over the table and narrowing his eyes at her. “It’s not like you’ve run any biological tests on me. My kinetic cells burned out years ago during my sacrifice play. For all you know, my current biology is just as incompatible with an Ifrit as Darius’s is.”

The instant the question left his mouth, Shula’s face lit up with a vibrant, dazzling smile—looking like a grandmaster who had just watched her opponent walk blindly into an inescapable checkmate.

“Oh, Rhys...” Shula purred, her voice dripping with an intense, terrifying adoration. “That is the truly beautiful part.”

She reached into her designer handbag, pulled out a small, glowing crystal data-drive, and set it down gently on the glass coffee table between them.

“We didn’t need to test you today,” Shula whispered softly, her eyes gleaming with absolute triumph. “We were able to run full genomic and elemental-compatibility simulations using the high-tier biological samples still preserved from your active days as Omen... the ones still locked away deep inside the apex vault at the High League Spire.”