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The rehearsal room was still buzzing with energy from their last recording session. Empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers littered the corners, guitars leaned on the walls like sleeping warriors, and Rex sat cross-legged on the floor, tweaking a pedal setting while Kai rhythmically tapped on his bass strings.
Samuel Owen stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. The seasoned music agent looked both elated and contemplative—like a man who'd found a winning lottery ticket but wasn't sure how to cash it yet.
"Alright, guys," he said, clapping his hands. "I've got something important to talk to you about."
Rex looked up. "You finally heard back from your old industry contacts?"
Samuel nodded slowly, drawing in a breath. "Not just one. Warner Records reached out."
Silence fell like a dropped amp.
Ash blinked. "You mean… the Warner Records? The global music label Warner?"
Samuel cracked a grin. "The very same. Apparently, someone in their headquarters heard Seek and Destroy—their CEO, in fact—and now they want to talk."
Silas dropped his drumsticks. "No way. Are you serious?"
"I'm dead serious. Aaron Bay-Schuck himself. They want a meeting. This could be your shot, boys. Major distribution. Real exposure. Tour funding. The whole package."
Kai leaned forward. "What exactly did they say?"
"They loved the rawness, the energy, the aggression," Samuel said. "And they're stunned that no label already has you signed. They think you're about to be the next big thing in hard rock and metal."
Rex exchanged glances with his bandmates. It was the moment he'd been building toward since day one in this world—this was the reward for his gamble, his secret, his songs.
"So…" Ash began cautiously, "what's the catch?"
Samuel gave a soft chuckle. "Smart question. There's always a catch. It's the music industry, not a fairy tale. They'll want a deal. Probably a multi-year contract. Royalties. Creative input. But—" he raised a finger, "you're in a strong position right now. The buzz is real. You have leverage."
Silas frowned. "But what about control? Will they start telling us what kind of music to play?"
"That depends on the contract," Samuel replied, nodding. "I can negotiate for you. That's why I'm here. I don't want you signing your souls away. But this is a rare door opening—and you might not get another like it for a long time."
Rex stayed quiet, his mind running wild. This wasn't just some indie blog post or local showcase—it was Warner Records. Real studio support. Radio play. World tours.
And yet… he knew the cost of fame. The system in his head remained quiet, as if letting him decide this one. No guidance. No rewards. Just a real-world choice.
Ash spoke again, this time more thoughtful. "What if we go into the meeting, hear what they say, and don't sign anything yet?"
Samuel gave a proud nod. "That's the way to do it. Take the meeting. Ask questions. I'll be there. I know the lingo, the traps, and the loopholes."
Kai smiled. "So we're legit now, huh?"
"You've been legit," Samuel said, folding his arms. "Now you're just finally being noticed."
Silas stood up and stretched. "I always said we'd make it. Just didn't know it'd happen this fast."
"We'll make it if we stay smart," Rex finally said. "Let's go to the meeting. Hear them out. But we stick to what makes us who we are."
Ash slapped him on the back. "The fire, the riffs, and the fury?"
"Exactly."
Samuel pulled out his phone. "Good. I'll confirm with Warner. They want to schedule for this Friday at their regional office in Manhattan. Be ready. Dress like yourselves—don't try to be something you're not. And trust me: just being you is already scaring the industry."
As Samuel walked out, already making the call, the band was left staring at each other.
"No pressure," Kai joked.
"None at all," Silas laughed.
Rex looked at his calloused fingers, then at the strings of his guitar.
This world didn't have Metallica. Or Slayer. Or Nirvana.
But it had them. Obsidian Saints.
And now, the whole world would hear them roar.
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