The air in Paris began to crackle with a new, potent energy. From every corner of the globe, they came—the S-rank players, the planet's ultimate instruments of power and destruction. The city of light braced itself, its romantic ambiance slowly being displaced by an undercurrent of raw, untamed force. The conference, a historic gathering meant to chart the future, was about to begin.
High atop a skyscraper that pierced the Parisian skyline, a tall man stood at the precipice, a solitary figure against the vast canvas of the city. The wind whipped at his coat, but he remained immovable, his attention locked on the architectural marvel that dominated the view. The Coupole de Grâce was a structure of impossible geometry, a shimmering pyramid of alloy and glass that seemed to hover just above the earth, defying gravity itself.
"So this is the famous Coupole de Grâce," the man murmured, his voice a low baritone barely audible over the wind. He slowly pulled off his sunglasses, revealing eyes of liquid mercury that reflected the building's brilliant form. He took one last, long drag from a cigarette, the ember glowing fiercely before he exhaled a plume of smoke that was instantly torn to shreds by the high-altitude breeze. With a deliberate motion, he crushed the cigarette under his heel.
"You've got to quit that filthy habit, Milo," a voice chimed from behind him. A woman in a dazzling, bright blue dress that seemed to be woven from captured starlight stepped forward, the fabric sparkling with her every movement. She joined him at the edge, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the panoramic view. "It's bad for your health, and it ruins the ambiance."
Milo offered a faint, defeated smile. "I'll try, Emma. I'll try."
"Paris really is the city of light," she blurted out, a rare note of genuine awe in her usually commanding tone. She then turned, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she looked at the third member of their party. "Awww, someone's still thinking about her boyfriend. You've been quiet the whole way up here."
The other woman, Olivia, crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks out in immediate protest. "For the last time, he's not my boyfriend! And he's a freak. A brooding, emotionally-stunted cyborg freak."
"I guess everybody's got their own tastes," Emma mocked, her laughter ringing out like clear bells.
"Emma!" Olivia gagged, her face flushing a light pink.
As the two women continued their familiar argument, Milo's silver eyes remained intent on the scene below the Coupole de Grâce. He wasn't admiring the architecture anymore; he was tracking the arrivals. A limousine disgorged a figure wreathed in an aura so dense it made the air shimmer. A group of three moved with a synchronized, chaotic energy that disrupted the flow of people around them. Each new arrival was a legend, a calamity, a sovereign power.
He grinned, a sharp, calculating expression. "It seems that this conference is no joke. The big players are all coming out to play."
"You know Milo," Emma said, turning from her teasing, "sometimes I feel you're extremely visionary, but other times you state the blindingly obvious. It's a fascinating contradiction."
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his smile not fading. "Shall we get going then? It wouldn't do for the hosts to be late." He and Emma began moving toward the rooftop access door, but Olivia remained, her gaze distant, lost in a world of her own complicated thoughts.
"Olivia?" Emma's voice cut through her reverie. "Stop day-dreaming. We're leaving."
And like that, the Lumiere Guild and the Netherlands' representatives were on their way down, descending to join the gathering storm.
---
[Location: The Plaza in Front of the Coupole de Grâce]
A young man with shockingly pink hair and delicate silver piercings adorning his nose suddenly stopped mid-stride. His head snapped to the side, his eyes narrowing as he stared with laser-like intensity at a specific, distant skyscraper. A shiver, subtle but undeniable, traced a path down his spine.
"Hmm.. I just felt a strong gaze on me," Delvin muttered, his voice low.
The man walking behind him, a fellow escort from their nation, chuckled. "Have you forgotten you're famous? People stare."
Delvin didn't bother to reply. He knew that wasn't any ordinary gaze. It was the feeling of being measured, assessed, and catalogued by a predator of equal or greater stature. It was the weight of a fellow S-rank's attention.
"Delvin, you're coming?" the other man called, now several paces ahead.
"Yeah," Delvin said, finally tearing his eyes away from the building. The feeling lingered, a ghost on his skin.
Nearby, Ryan was practically vibrating with excitement. "No way! It's actually shaped like a pyramid! And it's floating! How is it floating?!" He stared, mouth agape, at the colossal triangular building that hovered serenely above the ground, casting a long, imposing shadow.
Denzel, standing beside him, just scoffed, a short, derisive sound. His arms were crossed, his posture radiating a profound lack of interest.
"Hey, you've gotta lighten up a bit," Ryan said, trying and failing to land an encouraging pat on Denzel's rigid back.
"Emei, look! We're finally here!" a boisterous, roaring laugh cut through the ambient noise. Su Bu Lang, a mountain of hairy, bulked-up muscle, stood with his hands on his hips, his head thrown back as he admired the Coupole de Grâce. "It's even weirder than the pictures!"
"Lang, you have to show respect," the beautiful Asian woman at his side, Emei, chided him quietly. Her voice was like silk, but held a core of steel. "The country's honour is on the line. And please, I am begging you, do not do anything rash."
"Are you scared?" Su Bu Lang laughed, the sound echoing. "I know when to show respect. Besides, respect is earned, not given. I don't see anyone here who's earned mine yet.".....
End Of Chapter