The metallic tang of ozone and the coppery taste of his own blood were a bitter, humiliating cocktail in Collyer Valerian's mouth. He swallowed, forcing the acrid flavor down his throat, a desperate attempt to suppress the chaotic tremor that Orion's casual counterattack had sent rampaging through his Aether Core.
On the surface, he was a statue carved from granite and fury, his face an unreadable mask of stoicism, his glare as hard and unyielding as diamond. But inside, a tempest of disbelief and incandescent rage was tearing him apart.
To be so easily, so contemptuously, swatted from the sky like a common housefly—in front of the entire city, no less—was more than an attack. It was a brand, seared directly onto his soul, a permanent mark on the Valerian family's pristine legacy.
Yet, Collyer was the Patriarch of House Valerian for a reason. He had navigated the treacherous, shark-infested currents of Zenith City's high society for decades, crushing rivals with a smile and cementing his power through calculated ruthlessness.
He would not be baited into a brutish brawl by children, no matter how monstrously powerful they were.
This was a different kind of battlefield, and he was its master.
His gaze, sharp as a scalpel, swept past the mocking, predatory smirk on Lyra's face and the placid, almost bored amusement in Orion's eyes.
He focused instead on the thousands of watching faces in the stands, on the hovering camera drones broadcasting this disaster to every chrome tower and shadowed alley in Cascadia. This was not just a contest of power; it was a war of perception.
He straightened his back, the fine, molecularly-bonded material of his advanced Aether suit shimmering as his aura re-stabilized, projecting an image of unshakeable, imposing authority.
His voice, infused with just the right amount of Aether to carry across the ruined stadium without sounding like a panicked shout, boomed with righteous indignation.
"You two," he began, his tone sharp and precise, each word a carefully aimed dart designed to poison the well of public opinion. "Just what could you possibly be planning with this farce? This… display… is not a demonstration of strength. It is a show of infantile recklessness, a tantrum bordering on villainous territory. Do you truly believe such a brutish and unrestrained showing of power will elevate your standing in this city?"
His words landed with surgical precision. A ripple of murmurs, at first hesitant and then certain, spread through the audience. He had cut straight to the heart of the matter, tapping into the foundational ideology of their rigidly structured society.
In the tiered seats, nobles who had moments ago been gaping in primal fear now began to nod slowly, their expressions hardening with judgment. The terror was being replaced by a more familiar and comfortable emotion: disdain.
"He has a point," a C-Rank hero with a blazing flame insignia on his chest whispered to his companion, his voice low. "No matter how arrogant young Cassian was, the girl attacked first over a few words. That's not how heroes conduct themselves. There are protocols, challenges, a code of conduct."
"Indeed," a woman in an elegant, shimmering gown sniffed, fanning herself as if to wave away the stench of common violence. "Verbal sparring is the hallmark of the civilized. It demonstrates intellect, control, and strategic superiority. This… this is the behavior of Sump-rats who only know how to solve problems with their fists."
The logic was sound, a comforting balm to their rattled nerves. Power, in their world, was meant to be controlled, displayed with finesse, and used as a tool of last resort against the true monsters that lurked in the darkness. To use it so casually against a fellow noble, the heir of a great house, over a simple insult, was a violation of an unspoken, sacred code.
It was crude. It was common. It was, in their eyes, an admission of a lower class of thinking.
The rising tide of judgment was a palpable thing, a force of collective opinion that could crush even the most powerful of individuals.
Yet, against this formidable wave of societal condemnation, Orion and Lyra's expressions didn't so much as twitch.
Then, Lyra laughed.
It was not a giggle or a chuckle. It was a full-throated, unrestrained peal of laughter, sharp and clear and ringing with utter, unadulterated dismissal.
The sound cut through the murmuring crowd like a plasma scythe, silencing every whisper, shattering the carefully constructed narrative Collyer had begun to weave.
"Your words," she said, wiping a nonexistent tear from the corner of her eye with a theatrical flair. "You're trying to paint us in a bad light, eh? Want public opinion to do a neat little heel-turn on us?"
She let out a dramatic, bored sigh that was an insult in itself. "How pathetically boring. Listen up, you fossils, because we're only going to say this once."
Her gaze lifted, sweeping over every single person in the stadium, seeming to pierce through the cold lenses of the broadcast drones to address the entire world. "This city is about to see some real changes. And after that, this entire Province, along with all the other Provinces, will follow. It doesn't matter if you're some stuffy noble in a floating tower, a self-righteous hero polishing his medals, or a villain hiding in the shadows. The old rules are over."
A profound, heart-stopping beat of silence followed. Every single person in the stadium, every citizen watching on their holographic screens, every ambitious corporate shark and every desperate criminal lurking in the grimy depths of the Sump, hung on her every word.
What could she possibly mean?
Cassian, having finally pushed himself up from the cracked stage floor, his handsome face now a swollen, bloody mask of pure hatred, spat a broken tooth onto the ground. He desperately channeled his Aether to suppress the worst of his injuries, his glare venomous enough to curdle steel.
Collyer's eyes narrowed into dangerous, calculating slits. "And just what do you mean by that?"
Orion finally took a single, deliberate step forward. The movement was deceptively simple, yet the momentum of his presence swept across the stadium like a physical force. The very air grew heavy, charged with an unspoken promise of absolute power.
"It's simple, really," Orion's voice was calm, almost conversational, yet it held an absolute finality that chilled the soul. "Call us cruel, call us villains, call us savages from the Sump. We don't care. From this moment on, there are only two options in this city, in this entire world. You are either with us, or you are against us."
He gestured gracefully, his hand moving with an artist's precision towards the stage entrance where Elysia and Lisanna stood watching, their faces pale with a mixture of shock and a thrilling anticipation. "Naturally, those that are with us will enjoy countless benefits and will not be led astray. The Wintercroft and Vance families have our full and unwavering protection, and we will help them expand across the entire city. As for those against us…"
His gaze, now devoid of its earlier amusement, fell upon Collyer and Cassian. His placid smile returned, but it was a chilling sight. "…your Valerian family serving as a prime example, well… do you really think it's wise to oppose forces far beyond your meager C-Rank capabilities?"
Beyond C-Rank.
The words dropped into the charged silence like boulders into a still, deep lake.
The ripple effect was instantaneous and catastrophic.
In the gleaming towers of the Apex and the bustling streets of the Strata, it was as if a collective breath was held, stolen from a million lungs at once.
Beyond C-Rank.
In the C-Rank province of Cascadia, where the limits of power were a known, accepted, and enforced reality, that could only mean one thing. A shiver of pure, unadulterated dread and electrifying excitement snaked down thousands of spines.
Collyer's expression became ice-cold. He took a defiant step forward, his own aura of churning, high-pressure water Aether blooming around him, a defiant fortress against Orion's suffocating presence.
"You dare!" he roared, his voice laced with a mixture of genuine disbelief and white-hot fury. "You dare place yourselves at a B-Rank level? I will admit, your power is terrifying, perhaps at the very peak of what a C-Rank can achieve! But the chasm between a C-Rank and a B-Rank is that of the mud and the sky! They cannot be compared! And even if you could somehow bridge that impossible gap, do you truly believe the Provincial Hero Association Directorate will simply ignore your savage actions and blatant threats?"
Lyra giggled, a sound that grated on every nerve. "We're wasting time with all this talking. That Provincial whatever-crap? By the time their bureaucratic gears even begin to grind, it will be far too late. By then, not just us, but the Wintercroft and Vance families will have more power than your entire province can handle. But you're right about one thing."
A predatory, wolfish grin spread across her face. "There is a chasm. So how about you bring out your best tech, join forces with that pathetic son of yours, and we'll show you exactly what it feels like to fall into it."
The stadium erupted into a maelstrom of noise.
"Impossible! That's just… it's impossible, right?"
"Definitely impossible! There hasn't been a B-Rank in our Province since the founding! Not a single one has ever risen from our soil!"
"And that founding B-Rank hero was only here to aid in the creation of our province! The Aether environment here is too poor, the resources are too thin! It's a scientific fact! No one can shatter the limits of C-Rank!"
The disbelief was a tangible force, a wall of logic, history, and scientific law. Not even a mythical A-Rank Hero from one of the richer, Aether-dense provinces could walk into Cascadia and casually produce B-Rank powerhouses. The fundamental laws of Aether simply didn't allow for it. It was a cage that defined their reality.
Collyer seized on their doubt, a sneer twisting his bloodied lips. "All just hot air and baseless arrogance! Do you really think anyone can just break the limits of C-Rank? Not even an A-Rank Hero could—"
"Ah, I'm growing so, so bored of this," Lyra interrupted, letting out a long, theatrical sigh. She cracked her knuckles, the sound echoing ominously in the tense air, each pop a small thunderclap. "Just shut the hell up and get ready for an ass-whooping."
Orion's smile widened, a subtle, terrifying shift at the corners of his mouth. "And afterwards," he added smoothly, his voice a silken promise of doom, "everyone shall bear witness to how this so-called C-Rank limit is nothing more than a cage of your own making. A cage I can shatter with a single thought."
"DAMNIT!" Cassian couldn't take it anymore.
His rage, a festering, necrotic poison that had been brewing since the moment of his public humiliation, finally exploded. His entire body trembled with it. "Father! I refuse to believe either of them are at the B-Rank! It's a bluff! It has to be! No matter what tricks they have, they can't possibly have the power to overpower us, our true suits, the perfect guards, and our Water Guardian! Let's end this now! Let's crush these Sump-rats and show this city what true power looks like!"
Collyer flicked a glance at his son, his mind a chaotic storm. Every instinct, honed by decades of survival and political maneuvering, screamed that this was a trap.
The casual, absolute confidence of these two… it was not a bluff.
That single, effortless attack from Orion had required nearly all of his power to defend against, and he had still sustained an internal injury. He could feel the dull throb in his core, a testament to the terrifying disparity.
But he also knew there was no other option. To back down now, after this public challenge, would be to admit defeat, to shatter the Valerian family's reputation beyond repair. Their name, their honor, their position at the apex of Zenith City—it would all turn to dust. There was no retreat.
In that split-second of decision, a cold, hard determination hardened Collyer's face into a mask of pure fury. He spat out the last of the blood in his mouth.
"Fine," he snarled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that vibrated with contained power. "You think you are an all-powerful force that no one can defy? How utterly foolish. We will use you two to demonstrate precisely why the Valerian Family deserves to be the leading power across our entire Province!"
His bold declaration sent a fresh wave of shock through the crowd.
Many sucked in a sharp breath of air.
This was it.
A true, all-out battle for supremacy between the established hegemon and these unknown, terrifying challengers.
Lyra clapped her hands together slowly, a mocking, insolent rhythm that echoed the beating of a war drum.
"Finally," she sneered, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Stop talking and get to it. We'll just crush everything you have in a single strike."
"Tch!" Collyer and Cassian clicked their tongues in unison, their patience utterly and finally spent.
With a sharp snap of his fingers, Collyer summoned his true strength. From the shadowed wings of the stage, three bright blue lights shot forth like comets, landing with synchronized, ground-shaking thuds that sent tremors through the entire stadium.
Three imposing figures stood there, each completely stone-faced, their eyes devoid of emotion or life. They were more machines than men, clad in advanced, streamlined Aether suits identical to Collyer's own. Their auras surged with extreme, condensed power, each one not far off from the Patriarch himself.
They were the Valerian family's trump card: the Perfect Guards.