Asher's eyes shot open and he sat up, the memories of the events leading to his death hitting him at once. His attempts at sneaking his way into Eight's workshop to assassinate him. Falling right into his trap and having his lungs filled with deadly mold. Recalling back to Kree who just happened to still be in Draken's manor.

Putting a hand to his head, Asher looked around, surprised to find himself in a familiar room.

He was lying on the fancy couch in Draken's study that someone had placed a blanket over, probably less so for his comfort and more likely to protect the couch in the event he began coughing up blood again. While he tried to figure out what had happened, he heard someone clear their throat from across the room.

"Ah, you're finally awake. You and I need to have a chat."

Asher glanced over to find Draken sitting behind his desk, neck deep in paperwork from how things looked. The gang leader was staring at him in a way he'd never seen before. For the first time, Draken didn't look at him with curiosity, or anger, or even satisfaction. No, the deadliest man in the city looked at him with the hint of something Asher had grown quite familiar with seeing over the past few weeks.

Fear.

"What happened?" Asher asked, swinging his feet off the couch as he rubbed his eyes. Despite recalling just how bad of a shape he'd been in when he'd escaped, at the moment, he felt surprisingly good. He could sense that he had a handful of notifications from the system regarding his skills, but he decided to wait until after his conversation with Draken to check on them.

"Well, after you appeared out of nowhere in my lobby, clawing at your chest and coughing up blood all over my imported carpet, I managed to piece together the gist of what you'd probably been through," Draken said, putting his pen down and steepling his fingers as he stared across the room at him. "The fact that you were mumbling 'mold' was rather helpful. Though seeing as it had already burst out of your chest and back, I'd largely managed to figure that one out on my own."

"It had already gotten to that point?" Asher asked, shuddering at the memory. He recalled feeling as though the mold was digging its way through his body, but he'd thought that might have been his imagination.

"Oh yes, you were in pretty bad shape," Draken nodded. "Frankly, I didn't have the faintest idea of what to do. I tried pouring a potion of Restoration down your throat, but even that seemed to only delay the inevitable. In fact, I think the bits of potion that landed on the mold within your system may have actually made the mold start growing even faster."

"That's not a pleasant thought," Asher grimaced. "So… how am I alive, then?"

"That's what I was planning to ask you," Draken frowned, narrowing his eyes. "As a last-ditch effort, I attacked your already weakened body with my Death Aura. While I'm capable of narrowing down its effect to individual people, sadly, I can't wield it as a surgeon would a scalpel. You'd already shown me you had some sort of strange resistance to my Death Aura, so all I could do was bombard you with my skill and hope the mold died before you did."

"Oh, that's some clever thinking," Asher admitted, even more thankful he'd unintentionally sent himself to Draken's place rather than Samantha or Brian. If Kree hadn't still been hanging around the manor, things would have taken a far worse turn. "So the plan worked?"

"No. You died."

Asher blinked at the dark tone of Draken's voice. The former noble was staring deep into his eyes, as though wanting to ensure Asher heard every word he was about to say.

"Your body had suffered too much damage already. I managed to kill the mold tearing you apart as I'd intended, but you couldn't hold on. I felt you die, Asher. As sure as I am of my own element. And yet, here you are."

Draken paused for a moment, as if waiting to see if he'd volunteer an explanation. When he remained silent, Draken continued.

"It felt wrong to leave you lying on the lobby floor like that, so I brought you back to my study. I thought perhaps at the very least, I could call upon one of my alchemists and have them analyze the now-dead mold stretching through your system in the hopes that it would give us some insight into how to better take down Eight in the future. Imagine my surprise when, while waiting for the alchemist to arrive, I felt you come back from the dead, not even an hour after you'd succumbed to my Death Aura."

Asher matched Draken's stare, still unsure just how much he wanted to admit about his own skillset. The only other person in the world that knew he could come back from the dead was Samantha. Not even Rosh was privy to that secret, as he hadn't had that power back when the two of them were living together. But now, the largest gang leader and arguably deadliest man in the entire city knew about his greatest trump card.

"Naturally, I cancelled the meeting with the alchemist," Draken continued after another brief pause to see if he'd offer an explanation. "After that, I watched your body repair itself. I'd killed the mold, but it was still very much spread throughout your upper body. I'm no healer, but I'm rather certain your body somehow assimilated the dead mold as it healed itself. I thought about giving you another potion of Restoration, or even a lesser one, but honestly, I didn't know if that would be more of a help or hindrance at that point. It's well known that except for a few very specific situations, a person's skills stop functioning upon their death. There is no personal healing skill capable of bringing someone back from the dead. Especially not after hours have passed. Seeing as you were in the middle of doing something known to be entirely impossible, I decided the smartest thing to do would be to wait for you to finish healing and wake up on your own so I could ask you about it. Now that you're awake…"

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Draken got up and walked around his desk, moving to the other side of the room and pulling one of his chairs toward the couch, sitting immediately before him. Not once did he break eye contact during his short journey across the study.

"…I'm ready for an explanation," he finished, leaning back and gesturing for Asher to get started.

Letting out a world-weary sigh, Asher ran his hands through his hair as he wondered just how much he should admit. Honestly, Draken had been good to him these past few weeks. He'd helped rescue him and Rosh out from under Loratta's thumb. He'd given Asher all sorts of information regarding the Guild and how to best track the senior assassins and Eight. He'd even explained to him the basics of elemental advancement and helped him break into the Frent estate in the fourth ring. Asher hadn't really given it too much thought, but without realizing it, he'd come to rely on Draken for quite a lot of things. The gang leader was no doubt immensely busy trying to keep his section of the city in order and his people happy, and yet, he'd always made time to help Asher with whatever emergency he was currently facing.

And to top it all off, he'd killed off the aggressive mold that would have no doubt ripped Asher's body apart from the inside out, preventing Eternal Regeneration from bringing him back to life. Draken had quite literally saved his life this time around. The least he could do was give him an explanation.

He already knew the gist anyway, which meant it was either confide in the man, or kill him here and now. All it took was a single look at Draken's face, seeing the mix of fear toward the unknown clashing with concern for Asher's wellbeing for him to come to his decision.

"I have a rather unique set of elements," he began, leaning back on the couch and giving Draken a crooked grin. "Are you familiar with The Council of Death?"

Asher didn't know exactly how much time had passed while he'd been dead, or how long it had taken his body to repair itself after the fact, but he figured spending a little bit longer finally explaining everything to Draken was a more than worthwhile trade for the man saving his life. As much as he wanted to Recall back to Samantha and let her know he was doing okay and that she didn't need to worry, he owed Draken his explanation.

The gang leader took the entire story in stride, looking surprised at the appropriate points and downright fearful at others. To Asher's surprise, Draken wasn't nearly as concerned about his unique elements as he was about the fact that The Council of Death was involved.

"I'd say you're a dead man walking if you have something that the Council wants, but you've already proven that death doesn't apply to you like it does everyone else," Draken sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to parse through everything he'd just been told. "I'm sure you've figured this out by now, Asher, but you're in just a little bit over your head here."

"So I've gathered," he chuckled weakly. "Trust me, dealing with the Council is high up on my to-do list. Right after finishing off Eight and dealing with Leighann before she gets resurrected."

"Busy man," Draken muttered, drumming his fingers along the arm of his chair. "Do you even think you can find Eight again? It's been nearly a full day since you died, he's most likely long gone by now. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the city."

"At the very least, his rat I marked is still here," Asher said, having finally confided in Draken about his Eternal Mark skill as well. "The rat is in the upper levels of the sewers, somewhere beneath the second ring. Maybe it's near a secondary hideout Eight keeps for emergencies."

"We can only hope," Draken nodded. "Dare I ask, what's the plan this time around? You don't exactly have a solution for the mold problem."

"The mold was only a problem in the first place because I spent so long breathing in the spore-filled air. Eight must think I'm dead right now, which is probably why he didn't bother to dispose of the rat I touched as well. He won't be expecting me to pop out of nowhere on top of him."

"Assuming the rat is still with him and not just living in the sewers again," Draken pointed out. "It's not much of a plan, I have to say."

"I'm more of an 'improvise on the spot' kind of guy anyway," Asher grinned. "Though I do have one idea I can try. It's kinda silly in how simple it is, but honestly, it should help with the mold spores."

"I imagine being silly is better than going through all that again," Draken said, getting to his feet and heading to his liquor cabinet. "I'd offer you a drink after everything you've been through, but I suppose it would make more sense to wait until after you've finished Eight off. Then we can call it a celebration and break out the good stuff."

"I've seen what happens when you break out 'the good stuff,'" Asher laughed, remembering how fast Draken had gotten drunk when Crush had slipped him the expensive alcohol. "I have no interest in passing out after a single drink."

"Come now, it won't be just for a celebration," Draken said, pouring himself a drink from a bottle that was distinctly not the good stuff. "It will be in commemoration of a new partnership!"

"Partnership?" Asher asked, getting to his feet as well and beginning to stretch. He wasn't planning on giving Eight any more time to prepare than he'd already been given, which meant he needed to be ready. "What partnership?"

"Ours, of course," Draken grinned, raising his glass to his lips and letting out a satisfied sigh. "Once you rid the city of the Guild's influence, there won't be anything keeping me from stamping out the other gangs causing problems for the good people of Whikoga. Imagine it, peace throughout the first and second ring, only the nobles having to worry about the occasional theft here and there."

"I'm just killing Eight because he put Samantha and Brian in danger," Asher reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't agree to any partnership."

"Not yet," Draken admitted, giving him a knowing smile. "But I have a feeling you will."

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