A few seconds after and during the conflict, Allan's thoughts traveled to an extreme place, laden with guilt, fear, and disappointment. Deep in his thoughts, he lost control of many bodily functions, his anxiety soaring to a panic attack, eating away at his clarity.
The fight before him made the world feel like it was pressing on his chest, making breathing impossible.
That incapability led to spiraling thoughts.
Luckily, the worst outcome had not happened.
Kieran and his entourage remained relatively fine without suffering extensive, intensive, or career-damaging injuries.
"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's my fault… but it'll be okay. This is just a minor hiccup."
Allan repeated this himself in a distraught state. He blamed himself for his lack of confirmation. He should have investigated the interview in thorough detail, ensuring that the content and guests were to his liking and without conflict.
He had done the due diligence befitting his position, but he felt silly for giving them the benefit of the doubt.
Allan soon began to grimace, his thoughts getting the better of him.
"I wasn't sharp enough. If it were any other manager from the corporation, they would have gone over everything tens of times."
However, Kieran's voice drew him from his thought, attracting his attention.
"Why that expression? It's like you're beating yourself up or something."
Regret, self-loathing, and blame turned Allan's expression ugly and crestfallen. Kieran wasn't nearby, yet he could sense the emotions bothering the man.
Allan gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, spewing vitriol directed at himself.
"Because I am to blame! It was my job as the planner of this event to ensure your experience was pleasant and seamless. I failed because it was far from that… It wouldn't surprise me if the entire thing were unenjoyable for you."
Seeing how deeply this affected Allan, Kieran tapped on Dr. Riley's hand, requesting that she let go of him for the time being. He couldn't let those misguided emotions haunt Allan, terrorizing his confidence and dismantling his poised professionalism.
At this stage in his planning, Allan was indispensable. Kieran lacked linguistic personnel with broad connections and skills related to information control. So, allowing Allan to blame himself seemed asinine.
Rapping the sulking man's shoulder with firm pressure, Kieran looked him in the eye, shaking his head.
"It's not your fault. I know you blame yourself for this situation, but if you really think about it, there aren't many negatives to what just happened."
Allan stared back, his emotions worn like a mask.
"How can you be so sure? You can't speak for the future. It's full of intangibles outside of our control. Even with meticulous planning, promising the desired outcome is a fool's errand. I think I'm starting to learn that quickly."
Kieran agreed with that comment, but he couldn't speak from a place of expertise.
The future was not etched in stone, and the proof of this lay in Kieran's recent experiences.
Many of them differed from the timeline he initially experienced.
But Kieran caused those tangents with action, creating the forks in the tapestry. Based on prior events, he had stumbled across a few questions… or hypotheses he needed to prove right or wrong.
First, Kieran believed time to be a malleable concept. What was known to the world and how it was measured was likely incomplete. It couldn't account for phenomena with reality-breaking consequences.
Instead of being a straight line, Kieran believed that time was a complex tapestry involving massive and probably innumerable segments. However, even those segments were not arranged in a concrete manner.
The bindings of those segments had to be soluble. It made sense that a disruption event could dissolve segments in the tapestry of a timeline and, in doing so, generate new, unexplored tangents that would manifest as inexplicable surprises.
Second, Kieran believed the future was layered. One future could overlap with another and so on and so forth, engendering an infinite number of them, each possessing a unique element that the others lacked.
As these thoughts flowed through his mind, Kieran wondered how much of an effect an irregularity in the timeline—like himself—had on it.
His presence was likely an immense stress on the delicate fabric of the timeline.
"If you understand that much, then why are you so infuriated with yourself? Some matters are completely out of your control. Focus on the things you can control and hone them until you're satisfied. Don't get complacent, though."
Kieran's advice gratified Allan.
The stress of his job didn't usually get to him, but further promotion banked on his ability to manage high-level prospects. It didn't bode well for Allan if he couldn't manage multiple talents at the highest level.
He'd remain stuck at his current level with zero vertical integration.
That meant any of his recruitment deals involving highly talented individuals would be transferred to better-equipped managers. The thought left a sour taste in Allan's mouth.
He muttered loud enough to be heard.
"Thank you, Kieran."
"If it really matters to you… how about considering that offer we talked about once before. Leave the stress of the corporation behind and join me, becoming my exclusive manager. At some point, you'll have to make the decision—commit to me or narrowly manage to get by… by dipping your toes in two pots."
This wasn't the first time Kieran approached Allan with the offer.
"May I sit on the offer a while longer? I think I could be of more value to you if I play my cards right. But I understand if you can't. Competition is fierce and your guild requires structure and leadership so I wouldn't blame you."
Allan's earlier turmoil gradually dissipated, leaving him more clear-minded than before. He was once again reasonable beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Still, Kieran had set his eyes on the man.
"Take all the time you need. Competition may be fierce, but it's nothing I didn't suspect. Besides, our advantages have caused enough of a gap for respite. But I'd rather not exhaust it all. So don't idle in thought for too long."
Not long after, Kieran stepped away from the conversation, walking before Jezabelle as she said her usual goodbyes to the audience. The interview was action-packed, and the effects of hosting regular Zenith Online related content were apparent. Evident from her radiant expression, this special was well-received.
Before the cameras died down, though, Jezabelle squeezed an opportunity from essentially nothing.
"Mr. Silver, we're all very curious. The audience loved you. Will you be doing this again? Your thoughts?"
Kieran contemplated an answer. This place was the perfect advertisement opportunity, and it was of little to no cost to him. But Kieran had to consider many things he thought about in passing.
Now that people were approaching—or having cleared—their Advancement, there was content with paramount importance to focus on. More than that, though, Kieran needed his guild to operate outside the limits of their current city.
He wanted exclusive territory.
So, Kieran looked her in the eyes and replied honestly. "I can't promise you all anything. But I can promise you'll see enough of me in the coming days. If the opportunity presents itself, I'll return and bring news that you'd all like."
"Thank you, Mr. Silver. Ladies and gentlemen, once again, let's give a loud applause to Aatrox, currently Zenith Online's most famous player. Have a fantastic night!"
The broadcast ended, the cameras died down, and at that moment, the set's atmosphere changed, becoming infinitely less professional.
Jezabelle released the tension on her hairstyle, letting her long, wavy, amber hair fall down her shoulder, the flow of it all matching a mantle of cascading moonlight.
If it were a brownish-red color.
"We appreciate the interview. We'll also take care of this uh… situation that was caused during it."
She briefly looked down at the still-unconscious Daedric.
Kieran gave a slight nod.
"I wouldn't expect anything else. Because I'm certainly not helping him."
…
Kieran laid back, melting into the plushy comfort of the sofa while shirtless. Sat before him was Dr. Riley. She wore a focused and upset expression while tending to Kieran's unopened wounds.
The bruises had turned a nasty color, and the pain of it all nestled deep into Kieran's body. Without the aid of an adrenaline-driven battle, even the softest touch made Kieran wince.
"I've really done a number on myself, haven't I?"
Dr. Riley glared in return, her gaze sharp enough to cut into Kieran like a blade.
"Shut it. I don't want to hear it from you."
Despite being barked at, Kieran smiled. He knew this attitude came from a place of concern and twisted affection. She clearly didn't like seeing him hurt.
Disgruntled, Dr. Riley flicked the cap off an X-hancer, holding it to Kieran's lips.
"Drink. Now."
Kieran didn't retort or speak. He simply obliged, instantly draining the contents of the vial.
Within seconds, a pleasant warmth spread throughout Kieran's body. But the comforting embrace didn't last long. The site of each wound began to burn with unbearable pain, especially the damage his bones suffered.
It was torturous, yes. But it was manageable, which kept Kieran from making much noise.
In the meantime, Dr. Riley continued to quietly dress his wound, sometimes pressing harder than need be when her thoughts traveled elsewhere.
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