Hours bled into one another, the sun's golden radiance slowly surrendering the sky to the soft, encroaching purples of twilight.
A controlled frenzy, a current of disciplined urgency, flowed through the Wintercroft Estate. Maids with expressions of grim determination hurried through marble halls that echoed with their swift footsteps. Butlers, pillars of composure, gave hushed, critical instructions into communicators. Along the perimeter and within the grand halls, guards stood with a heightened, almost electric alertness, their hands never straying far from the Aether-infused sidearms at their hips.
The alliance was on full display. Members of the Vance family, having arrived an hour earlier, now moved alongside their Wintercroft counterparts. They were preparing to depart as a unified front, their faces etched with the same potent cocktail of anxiety and eager anticipation that gripped the rest of Zenith City.
Yet, amidst this whirlwind of meticulous preparation, a single, glaring question rippled through the staff and family members alike, a pebble of confusion dropped into a churning pond.
Where were Elysia Wintercroft and Lisanna Vance?
Where were the two young heiresses, the proclaimed stars of this monumental evening?
One would have expected them to make a grand appearance by now, to offer rousing words of encouragement to their household armies or, at the very least, project an aura of unshakable, aristocratic confidence to psychologically counter the Valerians' audacious move.
But there had been nothing. Not a word, not a glimpse. A disconcerting silence emanated from the upper floors.
Even the Lord Patriarchs, Theron Wintercroft and Kaelen Vance, alongside their wives, had offered only brief, maddeningly cryptic statements when questioned, advising everyone to simply "pay extra attention tonight."
Whispers flowed like wine in the servant's quarters. In a quiet, shadowed corner of the wing, a small group of young maids huddled together, their voices low and conspiratorial.
"Hmph, I can't believe any of you harbor a shred of doubt," one declared, her chin held high in a gesture of fierce loyalty. "The Young Madam is a genius tactician! She is obviously waiting for the perfect moment to emerge and shock the world. She's building the suspense!"
"Still," another countered, nervously wringing her hands, "it would be a comfort to hear something. At least to shut up those insufferable Valerian supporters. You cannot imagine the uncouth, vile things they've been saying about our families online and in the lower Strata."
The oldest maid in the group, a woman with lines of wisdom etched around her eyes, let out a soft sigh. Her expression was weary but placid, a rock in the storm. "I always tell you young ones to ignore what doesn't matter. Idle gossip is the wind—it makes a tremendous amount of noise but changes nothing of substance. Be patient. No matter the speculation, all of our questions will be answered tonight."
And at that very moment, high above them within the manor, inside a luxurious and soundproofed private chamber, the two heiresses everyone was so desperately speaking of were indeed getting their answers. Though, they weren't the ones providing them.
Instead, Elysia and Lisanna stood with the critical, appraising eyes of master artisans, circling a perfectly calm Orion and a visibly, profoundly irritated Lyra.
The siblings' appearances had undergone a transformation so significant it was jarring.
Gone were the simple, worn, yet functional clothes of the Sump. They were now dressed in sleek, professionally tailored attire, bespoke designs that spoke of unspoken status and latent power, yet were clearly crafted to allow for explosive, effortless movement.
Orion wore a high-collared, form-fitting tunic of deep charcoal grey over impeccably tailored black trousers. The material itself was a marvel, a smart-fabric that subtly shimmered as if woven from the fabric of night itself, flexing with his every minor shift. It accentuated his lean, powerful build, which had been forged in the unforgiving crucible of the Sump, turning raw strength into a vision of controlled elegance and profound, unshakable confidence.
A placid, almost lazy smile graced his lips as he glanced at Lyra, who was tugging impatiently at the sleeve of her own outfit with a murderous scowl.
"Come on," he said, his voice a low, amused rumble that seemed to vibrate in the air. "Compared to that monstrosity of a suit and the five dresses they tried to force on us, this isn't bad at all. Be grateful."
"Hah," Lyra nearly spat, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. "It took two damn hours of fending off these overzealous stylists to get to this point. Two hours I could have spent training."
Despite her venomous disdain, the change in her was breathtaking. She wore a tailored, asymmetrical jacket of pure, pristine white over black, high-flex leggings that clung to her powerful legs like a second skin. Her boots were practical, yet undeniably stylish, designed for both stability and silence.
The ensemble didn't just suit her; it elevated her fierce, feral beauty to a new, almost princely degree. It created an unfathomable, magnetic charm that even her scowling face could not hope to diminish.
"Honestly," she continued, crossing her arms with a defiant huff. "Mark my words. From here on out, I'm never getting into another dress or wearing any of this so-called 'Hero suit' garbage. What people see of me is whatever the hell I feel like wearing."
Elysia snorted, a delicate sound of pure, aristocratic disbelief. "If we were to allow that to happen, the results would be nothing short of catastrophic for our public image. Do you have any idea what the media would do with that?"
"Watch it, prissy," Lyra shot back, her silver eyes flashing dangerously. "You're walking on a very, very thin line."
Lisanna, ever the beacon of light, giggled, clapping her hands together with genuine delight. "Aw, but really, Lyra, you look so beautiful! Stunning! Heck, you could probably be counted among the most beautiful women across all the Provinces!"
Lyra flicked a sideways glance at Lisanna, her severe expression softening almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second before she snorted again and turned away, though a hint of red touched her ears. "Obviously. Anything I decide I want to excel at, no one else can even come close."
Orion shot a knowing smile at Lisanna, a silent, shared acknowledgment that she was quickly mastering the delicate art of navigating Lyra's thorny pride. Elysia just scoffed and rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched upwards.
Lisanna caught Orion's appreciative look and returned it with a radiant, flirtatious smile of her own. She sauntered over to him, her movements fluid and captivating, leaning in so close that her warm breath ghosted across his ear.
"And naturally, a born playboy like you would look decent in anything," she whispered, her voice a sweet melody just for him. "Just make sure you don't go flirting with anyone else after you've beaten that Valerian rat's face in."
Elysia snorted again, a more possessive sound this time. She moved gracefully to latch onto Orion's other arm, her posture proprietary and firm. "Of course he won't go running that perverted tongue of his. He has far more important tasks to accomplish tonight. Right?"
Orion's smile widened into a roguish grin. In one impossibly smooth motion, he snaked his arms around both their waists, pulling them flush against his body.
His hands, strong and sure, came to rest on their soft, plump backsides, giving each a firm, simultaneous pinch.
"Ah!"
Both Elysia and Lisanna let out surprised, identical squeals, their faces instantly flushing a deep, lovely crimson.
"You—!" Elysia leveled an annoyed glare at him, though it lacked any real heat and was betrayed by the sparkle in her eyes.
Lisanna simply wore a chiding, playful smile, shaking her head as if dealing with a mischievous child.
Before either could reprimand him further, Orion leaned in, giving each of them a soft, lingering kiss on the lips that promised more than it gave.
When he pulled back, his eyes twinkled with amusement and affection. "Thanks for the good luck charm. I'll be sure to give it my all now."
Elysia just huffed, turning her head away to hide the smile she could no longer suppress. "You think I would expect anything less from you?"
Lisanna giggled, her delight infectious, reaching up to pinch his cheek gently. "Look at you, getting all cheeky before the big show, eh?"
"Hey," Lyra's sharp, impatient voice cut through the romantic moment like a shard of ice. "Stop prancing around like fools and let's get this done with. You can do whatever you want on your own damn time."
Elysia and Lisanna both huffed in annoyance at the interruption, but Orion simply took their hands in his, his expression shifting from playful to one of eager, predatory confidence. "Can't argue with you there. Let's go have some fun."
…
Time, having waited for no one, finally delivered the appointed hour. The Zenith Tech Conclave was live.
The venue was a breathtaking marvel of modern architecture, a glittering chrome manor that seemed to have been sculpted from solidified light and raw ambition. It was the heart of Cascadia's innovation, housing the most advanced and often classified technology the city had to offer.
Even as the official start time arrived, guests were still pouring in through mag-lev receiving stations—nobles in their finest bespoke attire, corporate magnates with cold, calculating eyes, and famous heroes whose very presence caused ripples of awe and hushed whispers to spread through the crowd.
The main event was staged in a glorious, massive stadium built into the core of the manor. Hundreds upon hundreds of the city's absolute elite filled the tiered, anti-gravity seating, a veritable sea of power and influence.
Representatives from every powerful Noble House were present, as were the deans and top instructors of the prestigious Aegis Academies, their expressions stern and intensely analytical.
Floating cameras and advanced recording drones hummed silently through the air, their crystalline lenses all centered on the massive, empty stage at the stadium's heart.
And upon that stage, a lone figure stood, a master of the scene.
He was an imposing young man, radiating an aura shrouded in both mystery and overwhelming power. Every inch of him, from his perfectly tailored suit that seemed to hum in harmony with and amplify his Aether signature, to the confident, regal set of his shoulders, exuded a refined, controlled elegance.
A palpable pressure, the passive weight of a mighty Aether Core, poured off him in invisible waves, so potent that even the seasoned C-Rank Heroes in the audience took an involuntary, deep breath upon gazing at him.
Among a cluster of such heroes sat Captain Comet, a veteran known for his sharp eye and even sharper commentary. He let out a low, impressed whistle.
"An outstanding young man," he murmured to his colleagues, his eyes narrowed. "This Cassian Valerian… it truly feels like he's leagues stronger than his last public appearance just six months ago. The Valerians must have poured a fortune into his Talent growth."
The other C-Rank Heroes could only nod in solemn, grudging agreement.
Cassian Valerian simply stood there, basking in the ocean of attention, his eyes holding an expression of serene, unbreakable confidence. In this moment, he was the center of the universe, the undisputed star of the evening. It truly seemed that the stage, and the very future of Zenith City, belonged to him.
But right at that moment, a set of large, ornate doors to the right of the stage slid open with a soft, authoritative hiss. The sound, though not loud, cut through the stadium's murmuring like a blade, and thousands of heads turned in perfect, synchronized unison.
A small, charming smile touched Cassian's lips as he turned to greet his rivals.
"Ah," he began, his voice amplified by the stadium's acoustic system, impossibly smooth and welcoming. "Elysia Wintercroft, Lisanna Vance… and… ah?"
His voice trailed off into an undignified silence. His perfect smile faltered, twitching at the corner. His perfectly composed expression dissolved, melting away into one of genuine, unscripted, and profound confusion.
That confusion began to swirl and multiply, rippling throughout the massive crowd as a wave of murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Eh? Who are those two?"
"Why are they walking at the front?"
"Are they bodyguards? They don't look like any registered heroes from the Wintercroft or Vance households I recognize..."
The source of this city-wide confusion was the group now taking slow, deliberate, confident steps toward the center of the stage.
Contrary to every expectation, every blazing headline, and every single piece of frantic gossip, Elysia Wintercroft and Lisanna Vance were not at the front. They flanked the group, their renowned beauty still enchanting, their confidence utterly unshakable, but they were clearly, undeniably, not the leads in this procession.
At the helm, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with a matched, rhythmic gait, were Orion and Lyra.
The siblings' steps never faltered. Their expressions never twitched, not even as the piercing gazes of hundreds of the most powerful people in the city—and hundreds of thousands more watching on broadcasts across the city—fixed squarely upon them.
They walked into the heart of Zenith City's gilded power structure as if they were simply taking a leisurely stroll through their own home. Their calm, predatory grace was a stark, terrifying contrast to the opulent world they had just nonchalantly invaded, promising not a shift in power, but a cataclysm.