A shockwave of information detonated across the entirety of Cascadia, a seismic event transmitted over every Aether-net channel, shaking the very foundations of the province.
For two days, a suffocating silence had allowed fear, paranoia, and wild speculation to fester in the vacuum left by the Valerian family's annihilation. Now, the enigmatic force known as Orion had finally spoken, his message a thunderclap that shook the hearts of hundreds of thousands. He would be making a public statement concerning the future of the Hero Association of Cascadia.
His words were not a request, not an invitation, but a summons forged from absolute power. He demanded the presence of the HAC's entire leadership council, the heads of every last noble family, and the highest-ranked heroes from every corner of the province. They were to gather at the grand ballroom of the Wintercroft estate by evening.
Who would dare refuse?
The situation was brutally, beautifully simple. There were no intricate political maneuvers, no shadowy schemes unfolding behind velvet curtains. There was only the supreme, undeniable gravity of a singularity named Orion. He was summoning them to Zenith City, and so they came.
Driven by a primal fear that tasted like metal in their mouths, by the intoxicating scent of opportunity, or by a desperate, clawing need to comprehend their new reality, it took mere hours for the most powerful figures in the province to assemble.
As the sun bled out across the horizon, painting the sky in hues of blood and gold, the grand ballroom of the Wintercroft estate was packed to the point of overflowing.
The chamber was a breathtaking marvel of pre-Wave architecture, seamlessly enhanced by modern Aether-tech. It was a space slightly larger than a national auditorium, designed to inspire awe.
The ceiling was a high, vaulted dome of enchanted glass that displayed a simulated, hyper-realistic night sky, where nebulae swirled in slow motion and distant stars pulsed with gentle light. From this celestial canopy hung massive chandeliers crafted from Aether-laced crystal, casting a brilliant, shimmering luminescence that fractured into a thousand tiny rainbows over the anxious assembly below.
Yet, all this grandeur was utterly lost, swallowed by a chaotic storm of suffocating tension and discordant noise. Nobles, whose fine silks and impeccably tailored suits did nothing to hide their pale, sweat-sheened faces, huddled together in tight, whispering cliques like frightened birds.
The independent heroes, a motley collection of practical combat gear and hastily donned formal attire, stood in their own wary groups, their eyes constantly scanning the room, their hands never straying far from the weapons concealed beneath their jackets.
And then there were the righteous heroes, the true believers in the old system, who surveyed the scene with grim, unreadable expressions, the noble ideals they had built their lives upon clashing violently with the terrifying pragmatism of survival.
Dozens of sleek camera drones hovered silently near the ceiling, their red recording lights blinking in cold unison, broadcasting this historic, terrifying event not just to the province, but to the entire continent and beyond.
At the head of the vast room, on a raised dais, stood three ornate chairs that looked less like seats and more like thrones.
Orion took the center one. He didn't sit; he lounged, his body arranged with a casual indifference that seemed to create its own gravitational field, sucking the very air from the room and amplifying the crushing tension tenfold. He was a black hole of calm in a swirling galaxy of panic.
Elysia and Lisanna took their seats on either side of him. They did not slouch or fidget. They sat with the innate poise and grace of royalty, projecting an aura of untouchable, almost divine regality that framed Orion as their undisputed center, their sun.
When the last frantic representative had finally scrambled in, a heavy, sound-proofed door booming shut behind him, Orion finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, yet it possessed a strange, resonant quality, effortlessly cutting through the cavernous hall and the hundreds of murmuring conversations, bypassing the ears and sinking directly into the instincts, demanding absolute, primal attention.
"The Hero Association of Cascadia," he began, his gaze sweeping lazily over the sea of faces, each one a mask of rapt dread, "is no longer needed. From this day forward, the Wintercroft and Vance families shall be the leading powerhouses over this entire province."
Silence.
A profound, deathly silence reigned, so complete it felt as if the world had stopped breathing.
Then, the reactions rippled through the chamber like a shockwave propagating from an epicenter of disbelief. Sharp, cold gasps. Eyes widening until they threatened to pop. Faces, already pale, turned a ghostly, bloodless white.
The HAC Director, a portly, once-jovial man named Reginald Thorne, looked as if Orion had manifested a physical fist and driven it deep into his gut.
Orion offered a light, almost pleasant smile. "I trust nobody has any objections, correct?"
In that moment, Reginald and the other top heroes of the association felt their mouths tremble. A thousand protests, a thousand impassioned arguments about law, order, tradition, and the sanctity of their institution died on their lips, strangled by sheer, paralyzing terror. To disband their entire organization, their life's work, their very identity, with a few simple words... it was a humiliation beyond measure. Their ideals, their very sense of self, screamed in silent, impotent defiance.
Reginald couldn't hold it in. He took a hesitant, trembling step forward, his voice low and quivering, desperately trying to inject a tone of respect that his body refused to convey.
"Sir Guardian," he began, the title feeling like ash and broken glass in his mouth, "is that not... too extreme? Your power is indeed awe-inspiring. Your abilities are monstrous, but—"
"Oh?" Orion interrupted, his tone as casual as if commenting on the weather. The smile on his lips didn't fade; it widened, a subtle shift of muscle and intent that sent a primal, ice-cold chill down every spine in the room. "Thinking of resisting? I suppose I do need to make myself clearer."
He leaned forward slightly. The relaxed, almost bored posture vanished, replaced in an instant by the lethal stillness of a predator coiled to strike. "Simply put: I don't give a damn if you find this improper, disrespectful, childish, or short-sighted. Go against me, and that will be the last decision you, or anyone you have ever known, will ever make."
His words were not a threat; they were a clinical statement of fact, a promise of utter annihilation. They slammed into the assembly like a physical force, extinguishing every last flicker of opposition.
When a one-man army speaks, there is nothing to do but listen.
As the soul-crushing dread fully settled, cementing itself in the marrow of their bones, Orion leaned back again, the casual, unconcerned air returning as if it had never left. "Good. It's wonderful that we're all in agreement. Now, don't worry. All those who submit to my authority will naturally receive the protection of the Guardians. No villains, no invading heroes, or whatever else can even dream of intruding on my territory."
His gaze drifted over the crowd again, and a new, more dangerous glint entered his eyes. He let his gaze linger for a moment too long on a few of the more attractive female heroes and nobles, his appraisal open and unapologetic. "And this leads me to my main point. I am always welcoming of... strong bonds. Especially with those who possess unique and potent Talents. Perhaps some of you will be seeing me in a few days."
"Really?!"
Hushed, frantic whispers instantly erupted amongst the younger heroines and noble heiresses. The air, once thick with terror, was now laced with a confusing, potent cocktail of emotions. Even some of the older, more mature and powerful women in the crowd straightened their backs, their expressions shifting from pure fear to a complex, fascinating mix of apprehension, intrigue, and raw ambition.
The male nobles and HAC officials wished to scream in outrage at the blatant, predatory declaration, but they held their tongues, their faces a mask of impotent, crimson fury.
On the dais, Elysia's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and a flicker of deep annoyance crossed her face at his shameless, perverted pronouncement in such a public forum.
Lisanna, however, merely hid a small, amused smile behind her hand, thoroughly enjoying the chaos and the effortless way he commanded the room with sheer, unapologetic audacity.
Before anyone could formulate a response to the stunning proclamation, a new voice cut through the charged silence. It was clear, utterly devoid of emotion, and startlingly loud.
"Hmm, isn't your method a bit… lacking?"
Every head in the room swiveled to the source. Standing amidst the delegation from the prestigious Zenith Aegis Academy was a young woman.
She was tall, with earthy brown hair tied back in a practical, severe ponytail that seemed at odds with her relaxed, almost lazy posture. Her eyes were a deep, focused hazel, and her expression was one of pure, detached curiosity, as if she were observing a mildly interesting scientific experiment.
"Terra!" Principal Gold hissed from beside her, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white, his face draining of all color. "Be quiet this instant!"
But Terra seemingly didn't hear him. She took a casual step forward, completely oblivious to the horrified, panicked grimace on her Academy's Headmaster. "Uhm… you said you want 'bonds', right? And by forming these bonds, you can shatter our Rank Limit and, I guess, grow stronger yourself, correct?" she mused, her tone disconcertingly conversational. "Then, why not just take the data you need, take whoever you find suitable, and be done with it? I think it's more efficient than a public declaration that will just make this whole process weird and complicated. Uhm, but I could, like, be wrong, probably. People are weird here."
A deathly, absolute silence fell over the ballroom. Dozens went pale, utterly convinced they were about to witness a live, brutal execution. Others sighed, already mourning the foolish, insane girl.
To so brazenly critique the logic of the man who had just single-handedly dismantled the province's entire power structure was suicidal. Moreover, to do it so nonchalantly, as if offering a helpful productivity tip, was simply beyond comprehension.
Elysia's eyes narrowed, a frosty glint appearing in their silver depths. "Hmph. An ignorant girl like you is quite bold to speak up at a time like this."
Terra simply met Elysia's cold glare, shrugged her shoulders, and replied, "Uhm, Elysia Wintercroft, that should be right, right? I just think my suggestion could be useful. I mean, I always get results, right, Principal Gold?"
"You—!" Principal Gold clenched his fists, his knuckles bone-white. He hastily stumbled forward, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched his knees, forcing a wry, terrified smile. "Ah, Sir Guardian, please do not take offense at her words! She has always been a bit… special!"
"Haha!" Lisanna let out a genuine, musical laugh, the sound clear and bright in the tense air. "At least she's another brand of weirdness to add to our collection."
Orion didn't look angry. In fact, he looked genuinely intrigued. He cocked his head, a real, amused smile touching his lips for the first time that evening. "I see. You have quite the mind. Do you have anyone you can suggest right now?"
Terra put a finger to her chin, her eyes sparkling with a flash of sudden inspiration, remaining completely unconcerned with the life-or-death tension she had single-handedly created.
"Hmmm… Oh! Then choose me," she declared brightly. "My Diamond power is awesome! Out of everyone I've ever fought, my diamonds have never been broken, and they can entrap people for, like, probably a very long time. My potential is officially ranked as 'peak C-Rank' by the Academy's Aetheric sensors. This should be a good starting point, right?"
She said this not as a boast, but as a simple, undeniable statement of fact.
The entire room held its breath, waiting for the smiting that was sure to follow.
Instead, Orion let out a soft chuckle. "I see. You've made your point." He leaned back in his throne, his eyes glinting with amusement and a newfound interest. "Principal Gold. Your student makes a compelling argument. We will be meeting later."
The Headmaster nearly fainted on the spot, a wave of dizzying, disorienting relief washing over his terror.
Orion's gaze settled back on the stunned crowd. "That is all. The new era has begun. Comply and thrive. Resist… and be erased. You are dismissed."
...
At that very moment, while Cascadia was undergoing a monumental shift in its very foundation, High Director Warden Kael's Priority-One message screamed through the secure, encrypted channels of the Provincial Hero Association Directorate.
In a sterile, white command center buried deep within the neutral territory of Haven, the message was received. Analysts and coordinators—men and women who dealt with continental threats on a daily basis—watched the footage from Zenith City. Their initial, detached curiosity slowly morphed into genuine alarm.
The casual obliteration of peak C-Rank heroes was one thing, a feat reserved for the elite, but the sheer, overwhelming quality of the Aether being used was another matter entirely. It was like comparing a stream of muddy water to a perfectly cut diamond.
The data was immediately flagged and escalated. An emergency session of the Directorate's core council was convened via secure holographic transmission.
The council was a formidable assembly of grizzled B-Rank heroes with world-weary eyes and shrewd political minds who managed the delicate balance of power between the provinces. They watched Orion's paradoxical fusion of ice and light—a wave of energy that carried both the searing intensity of a sun and the crushing, absolute weight of a continental glacier.
They analyzed Lyra's molecular-level vibrational dismantling of Aether constructs, watching in silent awe as she unmade hardened defenses as if they were nothing more than sandcastles.
They studied the chilling, permanent monuments of frozen light left in the Valerian courtyard, noting with growing concern that the Aether signature refused to decay, a lingering scar of impossible power.
"This Aether purity," one analyst stated, her voice clipped and professional, though a hint of raw intrigue bled through. "It is unequivocally B-Rank. Possibly even Mid-tier, to be conservative. An average Early-Tier B-Rank can greatly suppress five, perhaps even ten peak C-Rank Heroes. But to do so with such casual, contemptuous ease, with such frightening efficiency... these two anomalies cannot be underestimated."
The statement hung in the virtual air, heavy and cold. The idea that Talents of that caliber could spontaneously awaken in the impoverished sump of a C-Rank province was not just an anomaly; it was a reality-breaking event that threatened the very predictability and order of their world.
"Warden Kael of the Keystone Province requests immediate intervention," a coordinator announced, his face a grim mask. "He fears a complete destabilization of the western C-Rank territories. He specifically requests the deployment of the Argent Federation's Enforcers."