Outside the province, the reaction was a potent, volatile cocktail of emotions. The news of the Valerian Family's obliteration didn't just ripple across the region; it detonated.
Neighboring provinces watched the unfolding chaos in Cascadia with a transfixing mixture of awe, bone-deep fear, and morbid intrigue.
For the powerless, it was a terrifying spectacle.
But for the ambitious, for those who understood the language of strength, the scent of opportunity was an intoxicating perfume, overwhelming all other senses.
As the data streams carried the gruesome images and shocking political realignments further, the news finally breached the borders of the Keystone Province.
This was no mere C-Rank territory; it was the unofficial capital of its tier, a province whose influence and power were so deeply entrenched that its High Director held a voice in matters far exceeding his station.
It was the recognized leader, the sun around which all other C-Rank planets were meant to orbit.
Within a grand, obsidian chamber in Keystone's capital, a heavy silence reigned. The room itself was a testament to power, its walls polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the grim, haunted faces of the council gathered within.
These were the titans of the C-Rank world—imposing men and women whose very presence could command obedience and whose collective will had shaped the political landscape for decades.
But today, the crushing weight of their authority was gone, replaced by a weary dread that seemed to leech the very color from the air. Their gazes were fixed, mesmerized and horrified, on the holographic replays flickering in the center of the long table.
At the head of that table sat High Director Warden Kael. He was a statuesque man, carved from granite and ambition, his aura a suppressive force that naturally bent other C-Rank heroes to his will. He was the undisputed champion of the strongest city in the strongest province of their tier.
For his entire life, Warden could confidently state that the affairs of other C-Rank provinces were little more than ripples in a distant pond, inconsequential to the unshakeable bedrock of Keystone.
Yet, on this day, a single, cold bead of sweat traced a glacial path down his temple.
He and his council had watched every available recording, every scrap of data, over and over again. They witnessed Orion and Lyra decimate the heirs at the Zenith Conclave with contemptuous ease. They saw them effortlessly slaughter the peak C-Rank heroes from Ironhearth at the Crucible, treating battle-hardened veterans like training dummies.
And now, this… this casual, almost bored, annihilation of the Valerian's remaining might.
The replays showed a blinding, silent flash of impossible energy—of icy light and frozen fire—that erased everything. It was a conceptual attack that tore apart the laws of physics before it tore apart its victims, a wave of light that carried the crushing, absolute weight of a continental glacier and a wave of cold that burned with the searing intensity of a sun.
The truth was a stark, unscalable wall before them. Not a single person in this room, not individually, not as a united front, not even with a small-scale army of their province's most elite heroes, could replicate those feats.
The men and women they had watched being crushed and unmade were not weak; they were individuals that no one on this council could afford to treat lightly. But against the two they called the Guardians, they were as fragile as spun glass.
It was a brutal, soul-crushing demonstration of the unbridgeable chasm that separated the Ranks.
Warden finally broke the suffocating silence, his voice a low murmur that seemed to make the very obsidian around them vibrate.
"This… this is a paradigm shift. The foundation of our world, the order we have maintained for centuries, has begun to crack." He lifted his gaze, sweeping it over his council members, each one a pillar of their world, now looking as unsteady as reeds in a hurricane. "That power… it is unequivocally B-Rank. I've had the distinct displeasure of dealing with a few B-Rank heroes in my time. These two… they do not seem weaker than any of them. Not in the slightest."
A collective, sharp intake of cold breath hissed through the chamber. A grizzled commander, his face a roadmap of old battles, narrowed his eyes. His voice was tight with a disbelief that warred with the terrifying evidence before him. "Are you certain, High Director? This is shocking, yes, but… that feels like an exaggeration. Their background files are clear. They—"
"Come from a mere Sump in a backwater city, correct?" Warden interrupted, his tone as sharp as fractured ice. "And pray tell, Commander, in the millennia of recorded history available to us, when has there ever been a tale of a B-Rank Talent naturally awakening in a C-Rank environment? Our access to information is far greater than any other C-Rank Province. We have combed through the Directorate's archives for centuries. And yet, not once has any of us read of such an impossible anomaly."
A heavy, profound silence fell. Minds reeled, grappling with the catastrophic implications. Warden pressed on, his voice dropping to a low, intense growl that held them all captive.
"That is not all. This man, Orion, has officially proven he can shatter the Rank Limits of others. An ability that is only whispered about in the hallowed halls of A and S-Rank heroes. A forbidden art so volatile that even they are unwilling to use it, fearing the myriad deadly factors that could make the situation catastrophically worse. Yet this man… this boy from the Sump… used it perfectly, seemingly without a single drawback."
The silence that followed was absolute, as if the room had been plunged into an arctic tundra where sound itself had frozen solid.
The very concept of applying common sense or historical precedent to Orion and Lyra was crumbling. It was terrifyingly obvious that in every single confrontation, they had been operating at a mere fraction of their true, unfathomable power.
Another high-ranking commander, a woman with piercing silver eyes named Cerci, the second-in-command of their entire province, finally spoke, a faint, undeniable tremble in her voice. "Just what can we do, High Director? Cascadia is practically in their hands. I suspect it won't be long until Ironhearth is in the same state. The other border provinces… even us… we are not safe from a force like this."
Warden leaned back, his fingers steepling before him as he stared into the heart of the holographic replay, watching the Valerian commander freeze into a statue of absolute-zero ice.
He contemplated their grim, rapidly shrinking reality. A dark, determined glint finally solidified in his gaze, burning away the fear and leaving only cold resolution.
"There is only one thing left for us to do," he declared, his voice ringing with the finality of a death knell. "This is far beyond our scope. The only way to handle B-Ranks is with other B-Ranks."
He paused, letting the crushing weight of his words settle upon them. "The Provincial Hero Association Directorate is already aware that two anomalies have appeared in a C-Rank province, but they lack the full, horrifying context of what has transpired. That changes now. I will use the Priority-One channel to relay all of our intelligence to them. The Argent Federation needs to come down here. Immediately."
"Ah…!" A collective gasp and shudder rippled through the council. One member murmured the name like a curse, his face paling. "Those… Enforcer B-Ranks…"
Warden rubbed his temples, a sudden, immense wave of exhaustion washing over him. Inviting the Argent Federation into their affairs was like inviting a pack of disciplined, state-sanctioned wolves to deal with a tiger. The collateral damage would be immense.
"Yes," he confirmed, his voice weary. "The chaos that will fall upon all of us will be unimaginable." He looked up, the strength returning to his eyes, now as hard and unforgiving as steel. "But this path is far, far better than waiting for an unfathomable force to grow even more so."
...
Two days passed in a blur of controlled chaos.
For the Wintercroft and Vance families, it was the busiest, most stressful, and most terrifyingly exhilarating period in their long histories. Guards, maids, butlers, and direct family members alike were working around the clock, their lives completely upended by their sudden, violent ascension to the top of the provincial food chain.
An unending torrent of calls and meeting requests flooded their channels, a digital tsunami from every corner of Cascadia, all with the singular, desperate purpose of arranging an audience with Orion.
It was a purpose that made them want to cry without tears.
Who among them had the nerve to approach the man they now secretly called 'Sir Guardian'?
Many would rather plunge their hands into a furnace than risk even the slightest, unintentional offense. Since Orion had made no effort to contact them or issue any instructions, they were paralyzed, caught in a terrifying limbo of inaction, petrified of overstepping their new, invisible bounds.
Amidst this, they also had to navigate the dizzying flood of new contracts and alliances. Dozens of lesser Noble Houses, influential mega-corporations, and even the prestigious Aegis Academies scrambled to pledge their loyalty.
It was a chaotic, dizzying whirlwind of power they were struggling to comprehend, let alone manage.
But deep within the Wintercroft estate, inside a sprawling, state-of-the-art training facility, there was only serene peace.
Orion sat with his back against the smooth, cool bark of a large, ancient tree, its Aether-infused leaves creating a dappled, shifting pattern of light on the ground. Lisanna was curled in his lap, her head resting comfortably on his thigh, a beatific, utterly content smile on her face as his fingers gently carded through her silky blonde hair. She felt no desire to ever move from this perfect warmth.
On his right, Elysia sat with her back resting against his shoulder in a meditative pose. Her breathtakingly beautiful face was a mask of profound focus, and faint, shimmering wisps of Ice Aether flickered around her like ethereal, sub-zero fireflies.
It was Lisanna who broke the comfortable silence, her voice a light, melodic giggle. "Say, Orion, we've barely seen that wild sister of yours these past few days. Are you sure it's alright to leave her on her own for so long?"
Orion smirked, scratching the top of her head in a way that made her giggle more and lean into his touch. "She won't get up to too much trouble when I'm not around," he remarked dryly. "Well, she'll think about it, but she knows how I get when she ignores my plans."
"Oh?" Lisanna's expression turned to one of cute curiosity, and even Elysia's meditative focus seemed to shift slightly, her breathing hitching for a fraction of a second. "I've only ever seen you with that annoying smug smile or complete indifference. You're always so stony-faced. I wonder what it would be like to see you truly annoyed."
A naughty, challenging smile played on her lips. "Actually, pushing your buttons sounds like it could be very, very fun."
Orion chuckled, a low, warm sound, and gently pinched her cheek, causing her to let out a light, playful whine. "You'll have to try much harder than that to annoy me. When you deal with Lyra from birth, you eventually find it impossible to get rattled by much of anything."
"Hoh," Elysia snorted, a small, perfect puff of frigid air escaping her lips. "A true nightmare, just from those words."
"Eh, like I said, you just get used to it," Orion shrugged, his hand moving from Lisanna's hair to her waist, pulling her a little closer. "Besides, dealing with you two gives me a much more… pleasurable kind of exhaustion."
He reached over with his free hand and pinched Elysia's cute cheek as well. She let out a soft, indignant sound, a faint blush dusting her alabaster skin as she instinctively slapped his hand away, though with no real force.
"Annoying idiot," she huffed, but didn't pull away. Taking a moment to regain her regal composure, she shot Orion a side-long glance. "By the way, don't tell me you're going to continue ignoring the rabid dogs baying at our gates. While I find it perfectly reasonable to ignore those shameless sycophants, at the very least, responding to the Hero Association of Cascadia would be beneficial. Especially for your… perverted goals."
Her glare turned slightly sharp at the end, though it lacked any real heat.
Lisanna huffed in agreement, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips as she pinched Orion's waist. "That's right. Just what grand, insidious plan are you cooking up to get your claws into other women? I'm curious to hear it straight from our man's mouth."
"Right, right," Orion said with a wry smile. He calmly took both of their hands and began caressing them, causing them to let out matching huffs and roll their eyes in feigned annoyance.
Moments like this were a luxury he hadn't known he was missing. But they were right. The interlude was over. It was time for the next act to begin.
Orion regarded the two women in his arms, a soft, genuine smile gracing his lips—a rare, unguarded expression reserved solely for them. The afternoon sun, filtered through the leaves of the ancient, Aether-touched tree, painted shifting patterns of gold across their faces.
"What I'm going to say is very simple," he began, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated through Lisanna's head as she lay curled in his lap. "The Hero Association of Cascadia does not exist anymore. As of today, it is dissolved. Everyone, from the lowest independent hero to the highest noble, will begin submitting to your families. The authority of the Wintercroft and Vance houses will be absolute. That authority will then extend to the surrounding provinces."
He paused, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle on the back of Lisanna's hand, his gaze flickering with something deeper, something far more primal. "And, I am open to seeing anyone who has the potential for a... bond."
Lisanna giggled, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. She tilted her head back, her bright, mischievous eyes focusing only on the final, most important part of his statement.
"Potential, eh? Always looking ahead, aren't you?" She pushed herself up slightly, a playful, challenging smirk dancing on her lips. "Alright, Orion. How about this? A little challenge. You survive an all-nighter with us," she gestured between herself and a suddenly flustered Elysia, "and we'll let you scout for your little 'potentials' all you want. Deal?"
"You...!" Elysia, who had been meditating with her back pressed firmly against Orion's shoulder, let out an exasperated sigh, though a faint blush was already creeping up her neck and coloring the delicate tips of her ears.
The vivid memories of their recent nights—growing progressively more intense and inventive with each passing one—were more than enough to make her regal composure falter.
She huffed, turning her head just enough to give them both a sharp look. "We will discuss that later tonight. More importantly," her gaze settled on Orion, sharp and analytical once more, "is that truly all you will say during this meeting? 'Submit or be erased'? It lacks... subtlety."
Orion merely shrugged, his expression utterly unconcerned. "My message will be clear enough. Power doesn't need subtlety, it needs to be understood. They'll understand."
He leaned in, his lips brushing against Elysia's ear, his warm breath making her shiver despite her cryokinetic nature. "But enough about that for now. Let's have some fun~."
"Ah—! It's still the morning!" Elysia's face was now a brilliant scarlet, a stark and beautiful contrast to her silver hair.
Despite her protest, she didn't resist, her body betraying her words as she melted back into his embrace, his hand sliding from her cheek down to her waist.
"Hehe!" Lisanna giggled, snuggling back into his lap with triumphant delight. "Hmph, your eagerness will lead to your ruin, smug boy!"
"Indeed, you certainly need a lesson carved into you, Orion," Elysia huffed, her words a token resistance that her body completely betrayed as she, too, eagerly leaned into his touch.
All previous conversations of politics and power were swiftly cast aside, forgotten for the rest of a day lost to serene, indulgent peace. The storm could wait.