CHAPTER 265: ABSENCE?

The bright white light faded, depositing Adrian and Grok back onto the familiar, metallic platform of the Sector Transit Hub. They had returned to the Sparkborn sector.

Grok, freshly healed by the miraculous medical technology of the arena, looked physically as formidable as ever. His stone-like skin was unblemished as if the fight never happened.

But his posture told a different story. His massive shoulders were slumped, his four arms hung somewhat listlessly at his sides, and his usually boisterous voice was subdued. His pride, Adrian noted, had not healed nearly as quickly as his bones.

"You fought well, Adrian," Grok rumbled, his voice heavy with a warrior’s resignation. "Your strength... it is real. The Grak honor our word. We owe you a favor. Name it, and it shall be done."

He paused, looking away towards the bustling streets of the Sparkborn sector, a wistful look in his four eyes. "It is unfortunate. We have lost the chance to taste the food of life. But mark my words, Sparkborn! I swear on the bones of my ancestors that I will train! I will grow stronger! And one day, I will return to challenge you again for it!"

Adrian stared at him as he spoke dramatically. They both knew the truth. Grok couldn’t get any stronger.

The Grak, trapped in the Slums, had been cut off from their evolutionary path for generations. They had no powerful beasts to consume, no way to Ascend. This loss wasn’t just a defeat; it was a ceiling. Grok had hit his limit.

Adrian held up a hand and yawned, feigning a casual indifference. "That’s not a problem, Grok. I’ll sell the food to your race anyway."

Grok’s four eyes widened in utter shock, his jaw dropping open. "What?! Why? You won! You owe us nothing! What do you want in return? Another favor?"

Adrian simply shrugged. "The singular favor is enough. Besides," he added, a small, genuine smile touching his lips, "I’m pleased you introduced me to the Clash earlier than I would have gone myself. I’m grateful for that. Consider the food a gesture of... goodwill between potential partners."

Grok stood up straighter, his pride swelling again at the notion that his guidance had been valuable.

He puffed out his chest. "Hah! Of course! It was only right to show a newcomer the ropes! The Grak are generous guides!"

Adrian ignored his sudden return to bravado. He tapped his PAD, initiating a call. "Mama," he said when she connected. "We have a new client for the Genesis Garden. The Grak. They will be arriving shortly to negotiate a bulk purchase. Guide and introduce them to our systems." He glanced at Grok. "But keep an eye on them. They have big appetites."

"Understood, Adrian," Mara’s warm voice replied.

He ended the call and turned back to the Grak champion. "Until next time, Grok."

Without another word, Adrian filled his body with mana and took off into the sky, leaving the stunned but grateful Grak behind.

As he flew towards his house, he checked his credit balance on his PAD. It was still low, but with the Grak now added to their customer base, their financial situation was about to stabilize.

’The sales to the Grak should take our balance back to healthy levels in no time,’ he thought with satisfaction.

He landed softly in front of his house. The door slid open, revealing that the small living area was once again packed to capacity.

It wasn’t just the Council members this time. Faces like Lyra, and several other high-ranking, combat-focused Sparkborns were present, their expressions a mix of anxiety and excitement.

The moment Adrian entered the room, he was bombarded with questions.

"Sovereign! Is it true? Did you win?"

"What was the arena like? Was it huge?"

"Did you see other aliens? Were they strong?"

Karl, who was leaning against the wall with his healed arm crossed over his chest, rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on! Of course he won! Look at him, he’s not even sweating. Let’s ask the important questions." He grinned at Adrian. "Is the message true? Can we enter the Galactic Clash?"

Adrian smiled, raising a hand to quiet the room. "Yes, I won," he confirmed, the simple statement causing a ripple of relieved smiles. "And yes. You are all capable of entering the Galactic Clash."

A cheer erupted from the combatants, a release of pent-up energy and ambition. Lyra pumped her fist, and even the stoic Master Von looked pleased.

Adrian quieted them down again. "It’s not just you," he said with a serious face. "Every Sparkborn is capable of registering now. We are a Tier-1 Civilization. I am leaving you all with the responsibility of managing this. Organize the fighters. Help them register. Ensure they get jobs as well. You’ll need credits, but more importantly, we need experience. Get out there, make the most of your time, but ensure you look after everyone. We are a team."

"That won’t be a problem, boss," Karl said with a feral grin. "We’ll show this galaxy what Sparkborns are made of."

Adrian nodded, then turned to Charles. "What about the others? The Douts, the Jirads, the Cydonians. Any update on them?"

Charles shook his head, his expression frustrated. "They don’t seem interested. In fact, they’re making it difficult for us to even maintain contact. I never expected much from the Cydonians, given their nature, but it’s puzzling that the brutish Grak would seek us out before the more humanoid races like the Douts or Jirads. You’d think they would be more open to trade."

Adrian only muttered, "Hmm." It was a puzzle, but one for another time. "Well, I’ll leave everything to your control, Charles. Just don’t force a relationship. We’ll focus on our current partners and see how it progresses."

Charles nodded, accepting the directive.

Finally, Adrian turned to Nyra. She was sitting quietly, observing him with those intelligent, perceptive green eyes.

"Nyra," he said, his voice softening slightly. "I’ll leave you in charge of our people. You’re more than capable of leading them well in my absence."

The room went silent. Nyra’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Absence?" she asked sharply. "Where are you going?"