TW: Head injury and blood

Though they had figured out how to open the portal to this mysterious realm, Garte and Derek had agreed to confront Michael, Zack, and Elizabeth before opening the access to any realms.

That being said, they had everything they needed if the stakes rose to the point where lives were threatened. Hidden away in a bag, the items, including the blood of the cursed, were sitting on a couch while the confrontation was occurring.

It was not far from what Derek and Garte expected. Michael was angry, Zack was argumentative, and Elizabeth was glowering at the both of them. When Garte presented the numbers he ran, Michael adopted a glare that sent chills through everyone in the room.

Tossing the paper on the desk, Michael looked at Garte standing before him. "You think you're so smart, don't you?"

Garte's jaw clenched. Though he usually would be cowering under this kind of pressure, he stood tall. Derek was standing right behind him, ready to step in when needed.

"These numbers show that people are dying, Michael." Garte stated clearly. "And it's not a coincidence."

Michael scoffed and shook his head, alongside Elizabeth. She picked up the numbers herself and took a good read at them.

"There's blood on your hands, Elizabeth. There's blood on all of our hands," Derek said quietly.

"Shut up, you fucking dog." Michael snapped.

Derek could feel his eyes turning red, intense anger searing through him. He could see Garte's head turning around to look at him. He quickly shoved his best friend's shoulder once he realized he couldn't calm his emotions down at that moment.

Garte took the message and kept his eyes glued to the papers that Elizabeth was working through. He swallowed when Elizabeth put them down, their blue eyed gazes piercing through each other.

"What, you think you figured out some kind of secret?" Elizabeth asked him.

"What're you doing to these people?" Garte hissed at her.

They looked at each other eye to eye, trying to assert dominance over the conversation. Where it would've been easy for Elizabeth once, Garte was not backing down. It seemed that he would do nothing of the sort.

Elizabeth looked in his eyes and could only wonder if this is what happened after almost losing his son. His mannerisms, his fear, almost entirely gone. This could have been a new man standing in front of her.

"You're a businessman, and apparently a smart one at that," Elizabeth paused, pointing at the papers on the desk, "you figure it out."

"It seems I already did."

Michael looked up at Garte, sucking his teeth and standing up. He went up to his blond colleague, standing only feet away from him.

"Why don't you worry about your son?" Michael asked, slamming his hand into Garte's shoulder and pushing him.

Derek, his eyes having returned to their normal dark color, looked at Michael. He immediately wanted to get up and defend his best friend, having defended him for the entirety of their lives. But, he stepped back. He could not humiliate Garte so.

"Why the hell do you think I'm here?" Garte asked Michael.

"To prove yourself?

Garte hesitated to turn around and look at Derek. When he didn't feel the immediate shove on his shoulder, their eyes met. Garte's gaze held uncertainty and was begging for some kind of backup. Derek tried to remain stoic as he glanced back.

"Oh, don't look at your boyfriend." Michael said, shoving Garte's shoulder again to get his attention. Garte's head snapped back at Michael.

For the first time in a long time, Garte glowered at Michael. A true gaze of anger and aggressiveness that was spotted when his son had laid dead in front of him. How he was beginning to despise Michael, Zack, and Elizabeth, with their arrogant attitudes and all powerful beings.

"So, so terrifying, Garte." Elizabeth mocked. Zack stood silent, but admired her from his distance.

"Will my son live?" Garte mumbled.

"I suppose that will be up to you." Zack finally spoke up, feeling his grudge against Garte festering.

Both Garte and Derek felt their hearts speed up. They put on this facade of anger and aggression towards who had been their friends, but they really felt intense fear and dread as they faced Michael especially.

The power was practically radiating off of him. Those cold eyes, the way he stood. He took control of a room the way the two CEOs could never. When he was around others, he had their respect out of fear rather than having to earn it. He was terrifying, cunning, and awfully charismatic when he wanted to be.

Garte glanced at Derek again, and the two of them had an unspoken agreement to leave and end up opening the portal another time. Garte ripped the paper with the numbers off the desk and shoved it into his pocket, earning no reaction from the others. They turned to leave, Derek picking up his own bag to go.

"We should've experimented on that bastard son of yours," Michael's voice rang through the room. "Then you wouldn't have given a damn how many people were dying."

Derek's heart dropped. He turned to Garte, who was shaking so hard with fury that he dropped his own briefcase. The thud echoed throughout the room, and the short silence after was deafening.

Anyone who knew Garte knew that while Garroth and Zane were his pride, little Vylad was his joy. Not his by blood, he took the baby in as his own and never once looked back. A testament to the love and dedication Garte had to Zianna, Vylad remained his loved and cherished baby boy.

"What did you say?" Garte hissed, turning around to glare at Michael.

Derek saw that look in Garte's eyes. Pure fury, pure rage. He saw the way Garte clenched his fists, so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Derek's own dark eyes grew wide.

"Garte," the Ultima whispered calmly in an effort to deescalate the situation.

The blond businessman was slowly walking up to the wizard, fighting to control his anger. Michael met his glare with a cold and vacant stare. He stood against his desk, tall and strong. But Garte wouldn't back down.

"Your slut wife bore you a bastard son. I'm sure you wouldn't have given a damn if we had experimented on Vylad." Michael responded.

Garte's wrath only increased when he insulted Zianna alongside Vylad. With that, he raised his fist.

Before he could step in and stop anything from happening, Derek saw Michael stand up and push Garte with such force that he was slammed against the wall. The impact of this shove went straight to his head. Too hard of an impact, Garte's vision blacked out for a moment.

As he stumbled down from the wall, he was unable to stand up straight. Landing on his ankle, he gripped his head and fell, the right side of his forehead hitting the edge of a side table. His skin was split open, and blood began to drain slowly down his face.

Zack and Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. With that kind of impact, the trauma to his brain could be irreversible. And, the way he landed on his ankle, it could have easily been broken.

Derek dropped everything and immediately ran to Garte's side. After a few seconds of unconsciousness, Zack wanted to step in, but Elizabeth stopped him. To everyone's surprise, Garte acted fine when he woke up.

"You alright?" Derek asked, handing Garte a tissue for the blood on his head.

Garte nodded, not feeling any sort of pain. He was incredibly shocked that an impact like that seemed to have no effect on him. Michael stood across the room, his gaze never leaving the two young businessmen.

"Let's get you to the hospital." Derek said quietly, about to help his best friend stand.

"No, no reason to." Garte said, shaking his head again. "It's really... I'm fine."

Michael gave an undetectable smirk. He had been waiting for this moment for quite a while. Zack, despite his worry, also felt that justice was given for the punch Garte had thrown at him.

Derek still helped Garte up, glaring at Zack and Elizabeth as the both of them left. He helped Garte to his car, making sure he was alright as he walked. Apart from the slightest limp, Garte was fine and aware.

"You sure you'll be alright to drive?" Derek asked calmly, handing Garte his briefcase.

Garte nodded. "Maybe I just got lucky."

"At least let me know if you get home safe. It's late."

"I will." Garte agreed.

While Derek was helping Garte outside, Zack turned to Michael.

"There's no way an impact like that had no effect on him." Zack said.

After Garte had come up fine, Zack and Elizabeth stared at each other for a moment in disbelief. The impact of his head to the wall was audible, and loud at that. The way he landed on his ankle would have made anyone collapse in pain.

"It didn't." Michael said. "I placed a spell on him as I pushed him across the room."

Elizabeth nodded. She had suspected as much, but couldn't be certain. As a doctor, her training didn't allow her to rule out any possibilities that she didn't have significant proof against.

"So he won't feel pain at all?" Elizabeth asked.

Michael shook his head. "Not for a little bit, at least. It's hard to say how long it'll take for it to wear off. But it should be a matter of within a half hour."

Zack swallowed, and exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. Garte had once been their friend, their colleague. They had seen him at his absolute lowest with his sick little one. They had seen him at his brightest, making everyone in the room laugh. Neither of them knew how to feel about this.

"So he'll likely be driving when the pain hits him." Elizabeth observed, checking the clock on the wall. Michael nodded again in response.

"If the car ride back home, or even the injury itself doesn't kill him, I'm sure we'll find another way."