Two days later;
Mark sat cross-legged in the quiet of his residence, with his eyes half-closed, while the faint hum of the AI echoed in the back of his mind.
On the floor beside him, dozens of adamantine gun parts floated in midair, assembling and disassembling themselves as Ark worked tirelessly, using Mark's Creation ability to forge perfect weapons with no errors. But Mark's focus was not on the guns. His mind was somewhere else entirely.
"This wedding…" he murmured quietly, opening his eyes a little, "is the best opportunity to strike a deal with the imperial family, and with the clans who are bold enough to support my declaration." His voice was calm, but his fingers tapped the floor. "By now, every influential clan in the dominion should have received the message. Even if not, then by the day of the wedding, they will know."
A quiet breeze slipped in through the window, rustling the curtains, as if acknowledging the turning wheels of fate.
