Biocores: The Legendary Weapon Designer-Chapter 114: Advancing the Plan

As Marsai was digesting the report, her mind combing through the delicate threads of information like a spider tending its web, the door burst open without warning.

She didn’t look up immediately. Her tone was sharp and cold. "What is it?"

The attendant who had barged in froze mid-step. His chest rose and fell quickly, but the words stuck in his throat.

Marsai finally lifted her head, one brow arched in icy disapproval. "I assume there’s a reason you’re stomping through my office like a wild boar?"

Before the young man could stammer an explanation, a new sound interrupted the room.

A sharp, metallic squeak — then another. Creeeak... clack... creeeak...

Her expression darkened, tension pulling at the corners of her mouth. She knew that sound. Everyone in the tower did by now. The chilling rasp of rusted wheels rolling across polished stone — unmistakably belonging to Prince Nioh’s battered wheelchair.

He entered without a word, ushered in by his ever-present guardian, Akron, who walked like a shadow at his side, and his pale, soft-stepping squire, Cryo, whose silence was often more unsettling than any spoken threat.

Nioh rolled into the room slowly, his presence like a cold draft sneaking through a cracked window. The silence around him wasn’t emptiness — it was gravity.

Marsai stood and gave a quick bow, low enough to show respect, but not submission.

"Greetings, Prince Nioh," she said, her voice professionally smooth.

"At ease," Nioh replied, his tone indifferent. He pushed himself forward another inch, closing the space between them by just enough to reclaim the room.

"How are you doing?" she asked, attempting the formal route. "Since your return, I haven’t had the chance to visit—"

"I’m sure the spies you sent after me have already told you everything I’ve been up to."

His voice was low, dry, and unamused. Not angry — just utterly uninterested in playing along.

Marsai offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "It’s rare of you to visit my humble abode. How can I help you?" she asked, neatly sidestepping the accusation without confirming or denying it.

"I wouldn’t come to your shabby corner of the tower unless it mattered."

With no ceremony, he threw a scroll across her desk. It landed with a soft thud and rolled slightly before stopping, the seal still intact.

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. With practiced fingers, she broke the seal and unrolled it. Her eyes skimmed the parchment, and a subtle frown crept onto her lips.

"A list of names?"

Nioh leaned back in his chair slightly, his voice calm but absolute. "Two months from now, we’re hosting a ball. In honor of our return."

Marsai blinked. "A... ball?"

"We have no taste for such trivialities," he continued, "so you’ll be organizing it. Venue, invitations, food, entertainment. Everything."

She looked down again, confusion etched into her face. "You want me to organize a royal ball?"

"Our only condition," Nioh said, ignoring her tone, "is that invitations are delivered to every name on that list. No one is to be excluded. Not a single one."

Marsai raised her eyes, tilting her head slightly as if studying a strange artifact. "Prince Nioh," she said slowly, "you’ve begun using the royal ’we.’"

He didn’t blink.

"Should I take that as your official entry into the race for succession?"

"You may interpret it however you like," he replied.

Then, without another word, he gestured to his side.

"Cryo."

The squire stepped forward silently and placed a sleek black card onto her desk — one of the imperial finance tokens. Its surface shimmered faintly with mana, embedded with several arcane locks.

Marsai stared at it for a second, then looked back up.

"You’re paying me?"

"No," Nioh said flatly. "I’m funding the event."

He began to wheel himself out without another glance. Akron turned smoothly to follow. Cryo, with his eerie grace, bowed once, then turned on his heel to trail after them.

The echo of rusted wheels receded.

Only once the door clicked shut did Marsai exhale. She leaned back in her chair, brow furrowed.

"I truly don’t understand what he’s planning," she muttered aloud. "One day, he’s mixing with peasants in the South Alley Market... the next, he’s throwing a royal ball?"

She snatched the scroll and read it more thoroughly.

"And this guest list?" she continued, voice laced with disbelief. "Heir of Stines... Heir of Aspar? He really thinks too highly of himself. They didn’t even bother attending the funeral."

Her fingers drummed against the desk, sharp and fast.

"The prestige of the Glev family has plummeted, at least by international standards..."

A wicked little smile curled her lips as she stood, scroll in hand.

"Well then, if you want a ball, I’ll organize you a grand one. Let’s see how spectacularly you embarrass yourself on the big stage."

She picked up the black card, still humming faintly with locked mana.

With a flick of her wrist, she swiped it over her desk’s console.

A chime rang out.

Funds detected: ₲2,000,000.

Marsai froze. Her breath caught for half a second.

Her eyes narrowed.

"...Two million?"

She glanced up toward the corridor where Nioh had disappeared, her expression shifting from smug to deeply uncertain.

"How the hell did he get that much money?"

For once, the chessboard didn’t look so predictable.

—

Akron’s heavy boots echoed faintly down the hallway as he kept pace beside the wheelchair. Her posture was relaxed, but his tone held a trace of concern.

"Are you sure she won’t try anything?" she asked, voice low and flat, like a quiet question that carried weight beneath the words.

Nioh didn’t glance at him. His gaze was fixed forward, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of his wheelchair in rhythm with each creak of the wheels.

"Yes," he said with unwavering certainty. "Marsai is a proud woman. She wouldn’t allow a project with her name attached to fail — no matter how much she hates me."

He gave a soft, knowing smile. "Pride is more reliable than loyalty."

Akron nodded slowly, though his eyes flicked toward Nioh’s side, as if still weighing the risk.

Nioh continued. "Now that we’ve secured that part of the plan... it’s time to move to the next."

They reached a heavy, reinforced door at the base of the central spire — Nioh’s private laboratory. As it hissed open, the scent of polished steel, burnt energy residue, and sterile chemicals rolled out.

Inside, X was already waiting, both arms weighed down with thick folders and data tablets. He had set the stacks neatly on a side table but stood straight as soon as they entered.

His expression was focused, but there was a flicker of unease as his eyes darted toward the rusting, rune-carved components recently delivered to the lab’s central workbench.

"Did you gather everything I asked for?" Nioh asked, steering his wheelchair to the center of the room.

"Yes!" X responded quickly. "I compiled every biocore-related incident from the last five years. Accidents, thefts, mutations, illegal sales, anomalies. It’s all here."

Nioh reached forward, flipping through the files. Page after page of disturbing photographs, reports, and internal memos. Faces blurred out, organs glowing unnaturally, timelines crossed with mysterious disappearances.

"Good," he said, setting them aside. "Take Cryo and Akron with you. You’re going to solve these cases. All of them."

X hesitated for a beat. "Under your name?"

Nioh looked up sharply, his voice now clipped and commanding.

"Yes. I want this done under my banner — loudly. Make it public. As visible as possible."

He narrowed his eyes, as if seeing the shape of a future no one else yet grasped.

"Unravel them, reveal the rot, and make the solutions clean. Use it as proof of competence — not just whispers, but spectacle."

X’s brows furrowed. "Understood. We’ll handle it swiftly."

"Expeditiously," Nioh corrected, almost absentmindedly, as his eyes drifted to the far side of the room — where something new had been set up.

"What about you?" X asked, glancing toward the shimmering blueprints spread across the crafting table.

Nioh rolled toward the newly delivered crates, his fingers brushing over the polished obsidian box containing high-tier biocore materials.

"I have A warden-killing weapon to build," he murmured, half to himself.

Akron’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

The question hung in the air a moment longer than it needed to.

Nioh slowly turned to her, lips tugging into a sardonic smirk.

"Do you really treat me like a handicapped person?"

Akron shifted her stance and cleared her throat. "Never mind. I said nothing."

Nioh gave a soft chuckle and turned back to the materials, already focused, already envisioning the design in his mind. "Go. I’ll be fine." freёnovelkiss.com

There was nothing more to say.

Akron and Cryo moved to X’s side, the three of them turning as one to leave. Cryo gave a brief glance over his shoulder, just long enough to catch the faint gleam of electrics sparks forming at Nioh’s fingertips — and the shadow of something dangerous beginning to take shape.

"See you soon," Akron said.

Nioh gave no reply. Only the faint hum of machinery answered them as the door closed, sealing the laboratory behind them.