CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43- VALIDATION

The chamber of the Five was drowned in a tranquil yet suffocating blue. It was the kind of blue that seemed endless, without corners or shadows, yet the light never felt warm. Five enormous holographic screens hovered in a semicircle before Logan, each shimmering faintly, each cradling within its depths the silhouette of a figure seated in secrecy. They did not move. They did not blink. They simply watched.

Logan stood at the center of the chamber, his tall frame bathed in the same ethereal glow. His suit was crisp, his posture immaculate, his face betraying not a hint of fear, only the professional poise of a man who had been here before—and who knew the weight of every word he uttered.

The voice that had broken the silence earlier still echoed faintly in the corners of his mind. It had not been a threat, nor a question—it had been a judgment waiting to be passed.

"The withdrawal of one hundred million AUR," the deep voice from the central screen had said, steady as a judge behind the gavel. "Explain it."

Logan’s lips had parted only after a brief pause, measured and careful. "I withdrew it," he said, his tone smooth, professional, sharp enough to cut through the room, "because I secured a deal—one that promises returns far beyond the hundred million AUR lost today. It is not a gamble, but an opportunity that, if seized, will strengthen this bank’s grasp over markets we have not yet touched."

He left it at that. Nothing more, nothing less.

And then came silence.

The kind of silence that burned hotter than accusation. The five silhouettes across the glowing screens did not respond. They stared, each like a beast in its den, masked by the veil of blue. Logan could feel them—five pairs of unseen eyes narrowing, dissecting every angle of his words, every hint of his tone. The silence became a weight pressing on his shoulders, a reminder that in this chamber, words alone could shift the tides of nations—or ruin the man who spoke them.

Minutes stretched like hours. The air felt tighter, denser, yet Logan remained unmoved.

Finally, the silence broke—not with the iron bass of command, but with velvet. A soft, womanly voice purred from the far-right screen, laced with a seductive allure that seemed designed to coax secrets out of even the most resolute.

"And tell us, Mister Patel..." Her tone curved like smoke, dangerous yet inviting. "What kind of arrangement did you make with this someone? An arrangement that dares to promise us more than a hundred million AUR? Enlighten us."

Her words lingered, sweet but laced with venom.

Logan gave no immediate answer. Instead, he nodded once, ever so slightly, and his foot tapped against the polished floor in a rhythm only he seemed to understand. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The chamber shifted. The soft glow beneath his feet brightened, rippling outward in a slow tide until the floor itself pulsed with veins of azure light. Before him, the panels embedded into the ground began to rise with a hushed hum, emerging from the depths like an altar being summoned. The glowing grid expanded upward, stopping at waist height—a panel of buttons, geometric and prismatic, each glowing in varied colors: circles, ovals, triangles, rectangles, all pulsing faintly as though alive.

Logan stepped closer, the sound of his polished shoes echoing in the chamber’s hollow silence. He carried the black leather bag in his left hand, its weight heavy but deliberate. Kneeling, he unzipped it with care. The soft hiss of the zipper was almost deafening against the silence. From within, he drew out five carefully folded sheets of paper—each inscribed with arcane sketches, intricate formulas, and drawn objects that bore no resemblance to anything ordinary.

The formulas of Kaidren.

Logan held them in his left hand, his expression unchanging. Rising, he placed his attention squarely on the glowing panel before him.

One by one, his fingers moved across the buttons. Each press was precise, mechanical, as if he had rehearsed this a thousand times in his mind. A blue circle. A red oblong. A green rectangle. The sequence was deliberate, almost ritualistic, each press sending ripples of light along the panel. By the eighteenth button, the chamber’s hum deepened, and Logan’s eyes flicked to the larger button at the corner of the console.

It pulsed red—slow, rhythmic, like a beating heart.

Logan extended his hand and pressed it.

The chamber responded.

The blue glow around them dimmed, deepening into something darker, richer, a blue that swallowed the edges of the room until it felt as if Logan stood suspended in an abyss. From the ceiling at his left, particles of radiant green began to fall—at first a shimmer, then a cascade, raining down in a perfect circular column. Sparkling dust poured in silence, drifting like stardust into the air before dissolving into the ground.

To an outsider, the sight would have been breathtaking. To Logan, it was simply procedure.

He stepped toward the column, holding the five sheets delicately in his hand. With a calm motion, he extended his arm into the cascade of green, releasing them.

The papers did not fall.

Instead, they floated—suspended midair, caught in the embrace of the dust as if gravity had been silenced. Each sheet rotated slowly, glowing faintly as the green light caressed them, the strange symbols and formulas drawn upon them shimmering into sharp relief.

Logan turned back toward the console. His right hand resumed its work, pressing button after button with clinical precision. Twenty-three commands later, his palm returned to the pulsating red circle. Again, he pressed it.

The room shifted once more.

From each of the five massive blue holographic screens, five smaller green screens unfolded—each one mirroring the contents of the floating sheets. The drawings, the formulas, the strange alchemical blend of science and mystery—projected clearly for each of the silhouettes to see.

It was the first time the Five saw Kaidren’s secrets, laid bare not on fragile paper, but as digital holograms within their own private chambers.

Logan clasped his hands neatly in front of him. His voice, when it came, was powerful, resonant, steady as iron.

"If you would, esteemed Presidents," he said, his gaze flicking from one glowing silhouette to the next. "Turn your attention to the data before you. These are not ordinary formulas. They are a new introduction—an invention that holds the potential to elevate Aegis Bank into an absolute economic powerhouse. With this, we can stand above competitors not just in our current markets, but in every market that exists, opening a path toward something greater than banking, greater than mere finance."

His words rolled through the chamber with weight. Each syllable was crafted, sharpened like a blade.

The Five did not reply. Their silhouettes remained frozen, but Logan could feel their stares. They pierced through the holograms, through him, dissecting every ounce of confidence he displayed.

Logan did not falter, he allowed the silence to stretch, his posture unwavering, the faint green light of the floating formulas casting his face in shades of steel.

_______________________

At last, the figure in the center spoke again—the one whose voice was deep, deliberate, and edged with authority.

"Logan," the voice rumbled, resonant as if echoing from the depths of stone. "On what foundation should we place our belief? What assurance do you provide us, that something of this magnitude can truly be made—rather than existing only as fantasy?"

The words were calm, but beneath their steady tone lay concern, suspicion, and the kind of measured doubt that only years of safeguarding power and fortune could breed.

Logan did not flinch. He had expected this exact question.

Quietly, he lowered himself once more, kneeling beside the black leather bag resting on the luminous floor. His movements carried a deliberate precision—each motion meant to reflect control, calm, and preparedness. With steady hands, he unzipped the bag. The faint rasp of the zipper broke through the silence of the chamber.

Inside, cushioned carefully within the folds of dark cloth, were two small glass jars. He lifted them out with reverence, as though handling relics of great value. One contained a liquid of radiant emerald green, its surface shimmering faintly as though tiny motes of light swirled within. The other held a golden-yellow liquid, thicker, denser, glowing softly like condensed sunlight.

Logan rose to his feet. He held the jars up so the light of the chamber could catch them, their strange contents gleaming against the cold blue glow of the room. His voice was steady, professional, resonant with restrained confidence.

"This," Logan said, holding the jars before the five presidents, "is my proof. Tested, verified by me, and brought forth at significant risk. This is the basis upon which I stand."

The chamber fell into silence again, so complete it seemed the very air had stilled.

On the central screen, the silhouette leaned forward ever so slightly, as though preparing to ask more. Logan knew what would follow: doubt about the source. Accusations, perhaps, about credulity. The implication that only a fool—or a desperate man—would believe in formulas and concoctions that sounded more like myth than tangible product.

But before the central voice could rise again, another broke through.

From the screen just to the left of the center, a man’s voice rang out. Softer in tone, yet sharp with clarity and discipline, the kind of voice trained to cut through endless meetings and negotiations.

"I will handle the validation," he said smoothly, his silhouette inclining ever so slightly. "There is no merit in wasting further time with questions that spiral in circles. What is required is not speculation, but verification. We must test the substance. Only then can we know whether Logan’s decision carries weight—or folly."

His words were delivered with a professional finality that left no room for argument.

The silence stretched again, but this time it was not empty. Subtle gestures in the shadows—small nods from the other silhouettes—signaled agreement. The four others acknowledged his logic, each one valuing efficiency above prolonged discourse.

The figure at the center exhaled, a sound deep and resonant even through the modulation of the hologram.

"Very well," the central voice declared at last. "P4, you will investigate this matter. We cannot allow more of our time to be consumed. Logan’s transaction must be validated swiftly, and if his claims prove false, consequences will follow—both for him and for the one who deceived him."

The silhouette who had spoken earlier—now designated as President Four—inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Understood."

Logan drew in a quiet breath, his expression carefully composed. He had known this outcome was inevitable, and yet the weight of the moment still pressed heavily against him. Slowly, he inclined his head, his tone respectful and unwavering.

"I understand," Logan said. "I apologize for demanding so much of your valuable time. I will comply fully with the investigation."

There was no further reply. The five figures did not linger. One by one, the blue holographic screens flickered, their faint hum fading into silence. Shadows dissolved into nothingness until at last, the room was once again empty—save for Logan, the glowing panel, and the two jars of strange liquid glimmering faintly in his hands.

The light within the chamber dimmed further, leaving behind only the cool azure glow of the floor beneath him. Logan stood in stillness, his thoughts tightening into sharp, precise threads.

Alone now, without the weight of the presidents’ gazes upon him, his calm façade remained. Yet inside, his mind worked ceaselessly.

Every word, every gesture had been calculated, but calculation did not erase risk. He had staked his position on this deal—on something that, to the world, might seem more mysthical than the world already is. For the moment, he had bought time. But time, he knew, was fragile.

The chamber felt heavier without the five presences, as though their absence carved a silence deeper than their scrutiny ever had. Logan exhaled, finally lowering the jars back into the bag and retrieving the 5 floating papers formula’s and drawn objects and ingredients.