Chapter 3 – Whispers of Power
The news of the Nethyra Clan massacre spread across United Earth like a wildfire in dry grass. From the neon-lit streets of Celestara Nexus to the floating citadels of the Genesis Nexus, the whispers carried both fear and fascination: Lin Xuan. Prabhat. Names spoken cautiously, as if saying them aloud might draw the storm nearer. No one could deny that the Obsidian Onyx Guild had acted decisively—and with terrifying precision.
In the Grand Hall of Sovereigns, carved from black stone and streaked with veins of glowing crystal, the ten most powerful clan leaders gathered. The room hummed with tension, an almost tangible aura of authority that pressed against every wall and ceiling. This was not a mere meeting. It was a collision of legends, each presence so heavy with power it bent the light and the air itself.
Zhao Kenjiro of the Dragonfang Consortium was the first to break the silence, his calm, calculating gaze sweeping across the room. Behind him floated soft holographic projections of advanced gene research, a silent reminder of just how lethal his intellect could be. Beside him, Arun Nakamura of the Yamato-Khalsa Clan stood tall and unyielding, his warrior's posture radiating discipline and the coiled readiness of a spring.
Astrid Gunnarson of the Valhalla Syndicate entered with deliberate grace, her platinum hair catching the light, eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up prey. Next to her, Kim Wei-Lang of the Han-Seong Guild leaned back slightly, fingers steepled, voice measured and eyes calm—but there was no mistaking the power in that stillness.
Marcus Diodoros of the Aegis Dominion slammed his fist against the obsidian table, the sound echoing like thunder through the chamber. "The Nethyra Clan… gone. Massacred. We cannot allow this! Lin Xuan's power is growing. We have to—somehow—stop him!"
A low murmur ran through the hall. Some leaders felt excitement, others unease, but all shared the same calculation: Lin Xuan was no ordinary man. Lucien De Silva of the Seraphim Circle reclined slightly, eyes glinting in shadow. "Unchecked power… yes, it can be dangerous," he said softly, almost amused. "But Lin Xuan? He controls it. Unlike most, he doesn't destroy for thrill—he destroys when necessary. Ignore him at your peril, though some of you will doubt until it's too late."
Zhao Kenjiro's voice cut through the tension like a scalpel. "Marcus, you misunderstand. Lin Xuan is not our enemy. I owe him my life, as does Arun. He saved both of us from a creature that could have ended us. Even now, I would hesitate to challenge him."
Arun Nakamura nodded, his dark eyes steady. "Eight years of silence. And now… the Nethyra are gone. Lin Xuan acts deliberately. No one here could stand against him fairly. Not even you, Marcus."
Marcus growled, slamming the table again. "So we just sit here and do nothing?"
Kim Wei-Lang's lips curved into a calculating smile. "Caution is not weakness. The Obsidian Onyx Guild takes contracts for money. Today it was the Nethyra. Tomorrow it could be any clan. Fear is justified. Do not mistake this caution for cowardice."
Farid Albrecht of the Suleiman Order spoke evenly, voice cutting cleanly through the noise. "Respect what you cannot see. Lin Xuan has remained hidden for eight years. Suddenly, the Nethyra are gone. He moves with precision. Ally or enemy, he cannot be ignored."
Astrid's silver eyes glimmered with steel. "The question isn't whether we fight him," she said, voice sharp as a blade, "but whether we survive if he ever decides to notice us."
A hush fell over the chamber. Even the boldest, most confident leaders felt the chill of Lin Xuan's presence without him even being there. In that moment, it was clear: Lin Xuan was untouchable, a storm waiting just beyond the veil of perception.
Erik Johnson of the Stormborn Union slammed his fist against the table, voice booming, shaking the crystal pillars. "So we just wait? Let him carve his path across United Earth?"
Zhao Kenjiro shook his head slowly. "We do not act blindly. We prepare. We watch. And we respect true power when it stands beyond reach."
The room seemed to hold its breath—then a calm, measured voice cut through, heavier than any hand strike or battle roar.
"No, Mr. Erik."
All eyes snapped toward the massive doors at the far end of the hall. A man stepped in, walking with deliberate pace. He was plain in appearance, yet every step carried authority, every motion unshakable. Manager Park had arrived.
"Manager Park?" Zhao inclined his head slightly.
Park's gaze swept the leaders once, slow and precise, as though reading each one like an open book. Then, his voice, controlled and unflinching, filled the room. "Mr. Erik. Guild Master Lin did not want to massacre the Nethyra. They provoked him. As long as you leave his family and close ones untouched, he will not intervene. But if you insist on standing in his way… I am ordered to remove any who interfere."
Silence settled like a heavy cloak. Even the most confident leaders felt it press down, weighing their bravado against a threat they could not measure.
Erik Johnson's laughter broke the quiet first—loud, incredulous, tinged with offense. "Are you threatening us?"
Park's reply was calm, deliberate. "Take it as you will. A warning—or a promise. The choice is yours."
Erik's face contorted with fury, and in a blur he lunged forward, forceful, brutal, relying purely on momentum. His fist shot toward Park with lethal intent.
Park did not flinch.
The hall seemed to freeze. Erik's fist slammed into Park's forearm and stopped, as if hitting iron. A dull thud reverberated, drawing involuntary gasps from every leader present. Even Marcus, his face tight with rage, froze mid-motion.
Park's calm, even voice sliced through the tension. "This," he said softly, "is only a slight warning."
Erik staggered back, chest heaving, his arrogance tempered by the unyielding calm of a man who could match strength without effort. Around the table, eyes widened, postures shifted. Suddenly, Lin Xuan's name was more than rumor—it carried weight, consequence, and the unspoken promise of annihilation.
Zhao Kenjiro's voice was low, almost thoughtful. "We proceed with caution. Very caution."
The leaders rose one by one, the weight of what they'd witnessed sinking into each mind. Outside, the streets, markets, and private parlors buzzed with new rumors. Lin Xuan's name no longer whispered—it thundered.
Inside the Obsidian Onyx Guild, gears of strategy clicked quietly into motion. The orders had been delivered. The warning had been given. And the world had learned its first lesson: power like Lin Xuan's was not to be trifled with. Survival required careful calculation—and sometimes, complete submission.