The echo of Ryan Sterling's defeat lingered in the sudden, shocking silence. Nobody moved. Nobody dared to breathe. His crumpled form lay at the edge of the stage, a monument to futility.
The advanced Aether suit, a masterpiece of Zenith City engineering, was a fractured shell of cobalt and silver. A beautiful, lethal frost, like a crystalline plague, was spreading from the hole in his shoulder, tracing exquisite patterns across his armor as it completely extinguished the last embers of his Aether Core.
The air itself seemed to have frozen in a reverent hush, the only sound the faint, pathetic crackle of fried circuits from the destroyed stadium tech.
Into this profound quiet, Lyra let out a soft, dismissive snort. It was not a loud sound, but it cut through the tension like a razor, sharp and laden with a contempt so profound it was almost a physical force. She flicked her hands as if batting away a mildly annoying insect.
"Pathetic," she uttered, the single word a final, damning verdict.
In the next instant, the very air around her warped. It was not a visible phenomenon, but a palpable pressure, a high-frequency thrum that vibrated deep in the bones of her chosen targets.
Dozens of invisible, unstoppable vectors of pure force erupted from her, screaming through the space between her and the remaining invaders—the elite Valerian guards and the phalanx of heroes from Ironhearth.
"FOR THE PROVINCE!" a Valerian captain roared, his training and loyalty overriding the primal fear that had seized his heart.
His cry broke the spell of terror, and a unified shout of defiance was torn from the lips of the remaining warriors.
"HAHH!"
Their training kicked in, a desperate, final surge of C-Rank might. They unleashed their greatest powers in a unified, breathtaking barrage. A dazzling, multi-colored storm of destruction lit up the ruined stage. Blazing torrents of fire hot enough to melt plasteel raged forward.
Lances of jagged, super-cooled ice, each the size of a battering ram, shot through the air. Crackling bolts of contained lightning sought to vaporize their foe, and shimmering sword auras of pure, condensed Aether sliced through the air, creating a web of lethal energy.
It was a brilliant, awe-inspiring display, a testament to the power that had once made them the undisputed elites of their respective factions.
It was all utterly, hopelessly useless.
Lyra's attack was not a mere application of power; it was a wave of pure entropy, a command for reality itself to unmake her enemies' efforts. The streams of vibrating Aether met the glorious, dazzling storm of power, and simply erased it.
The fire was not extinguished; its very concept was deconstructed, reverting to harmless heat and light before dissipating into nothingness.
The lances of ice did not shatter; they sublimated instantly, turning from solid to gas without ever becoming liquid.
The lightning fizzled into stray static, and the deadly sword auras were dismantled at a molecular level, shattering like glass.
The vibrating streams crushed through all opposition without losing an ounce of momentum and savagely smashed into their targets.
The result was a symphony of carnage.
"ARGH!" Some wailed in pure, unadulterated anguish as the vibrations coursed through their bodies, their Aether-reinforced bones turning to powder and their internal organs liquefying into a gruesome pulp within their armor.
Others were eerily, unnervingly silent. For them, the vibrational frequency was focused with surgical, sadistic precision on their heads. There was a series of sickening, wet pops, and their helmets instantly filled with a fine red mist as their skulls exploded.
Each one of them, without exception, was sent flying like a discarded ragdoll. The sickening thud of their bodies smashing into the walls of the Crucible echoed through the arena, the impacts great enough to crack the reinforced plasteel.
A grotesque mural of blood and shattered bone painted the dome.
Some lay twitching in the bloody rubble, their bodies hopelessly broken as they clung desperately to the last vestiges of life. Most, however, stayed unmoving forever, their lives extinguished in a single, merciless instant.
Orion watched his sister's handiwork with a low, dangerous chuckle. The sound drew the attention of the four remaining leaders, who were staring at the carnage with faces bleached of all color.
He narrowed his eyes, a predatory glint entering their depths as he focused on Kane, Iskra, Collyer, and Cassian.
"And now," he said, his voice a calm promise of doom, "for you all."
"DIE!" The four leaders did not wait for death to come to them. Spurred by the last dregs of their courage, they surged forward, unleashing their greatest strikes in a final, desperate gambit.
Kane and Iskra, master tacticians and swordsmen of Ironhearth, unleashed profound Aether sword techniques. Their blades became extensions of their will, weaving intricate, deadly patterns in the air that seemed to warp space itself, each slash a condensed law of battle.
Simultaneously, Collyer and Cassian roared in unison, not caring about their injured Aether Cores in the slightest, summoning a raging tsunami of azure water Aether. It was not mere water, but a crushing, roaring wall of hyper-pressurized liquid infused with devastating power, thundering across the stage with the force of a collapsing ocean.
The combined might of four peak C-Rank heroes, pushed beyond their limits by desperation, was a sight to behold. Even the veteran heroes watching from the stands held their breath in awe, recognizing a level of power that could level numerous city blocks.
But none of it mattered.
Orion simply flicked his hands.
The stage floor did not just crack; it shattered. A gaping, glacial abyss ripped open, and from its depths erupted chains forged of pure, absolute-zero ice. They were not merely frozen water; they were the very concept of cold and stasis given terrifying form, glowing with a faint, predatory blue light that seemed to drink the warmth from the air.
The chains met the incoming storm of attacks.
The dazzling, space-warping sword techniques froze solid in mid-air, becoming beautiful, terrifying sculptures of arrested violence before shattering into millions of glittering, harmless shards.
The roaring azure tsunami met the wave of absolute cold and was instantly flash-frozen into a monstrous, crystalline wave. It hung suspended in the air for a single, breathtaking moment, a monument to their failed defiance, before it too collapsed into a billion diamond-like shards that rained down upon the stage.
Unhindered, the Ice Chains soared through the air. They did not break through the leaders' Aether suits; they phased through the advanced armor as if it were wet paper, latching directly onto their Aether Cores within.
"AHHHH!"
All four howled in synchronized, inhuman agony. Blood splashed from their mouths as the chains wrapped around them, the freezing energy not just suppressing their cores, but flash-freezing their power from the inside out.
They were dragged brutally to their knees, their bodies pierced and bound, utterly helpless.
Just like that, the invasion was over.
The only sounds left were the pained, gurgling groans of the few survivors and the soft, rhythmic dripping of blood onto the ruined stage.
"Ah… eh?" A wave of profound confusion washed over the audience. Their minds were reeling, struggling to process the chaotic storm of events.
They felt a sense of extreme whiplash, as if they had been flung from one reality to another.
One moment they were suppressed and helpless before an invading army; the next, Orion had fired a single, almost lazy stream of Aether, and in the literal blink of an eye, the entire enemy force was either dead, dying, or defeated.
The one truth that burned itself into the mind of every single person watching, from Zenith City to the farthest reaches of the Province, was that Orion and Lyra had once again utterly, completely, and effortlessly dominated their opposition. And this time, it was against the elite forces of a hostile, neighboring Province.
Then, the laughter began.
"HAHAHAH!"
A single hero's cheer broke the stunned silence, and it was followed by a flood. The nobles and heroes who had thrown their lot in with Orion and his sister erupted in a wave of triumphant cheers and laughter that echoed through the ruined dome.
"Hah! That's what those Ironhearth savages get for their arrogance!"
"They really thought they could just walk onto our land and dictate terms? Fools! Utter fools!"
"Hmph. The Valerians and the Sterlings are finished. Completely and utterly ruined. Good riddance to bad rubbish!"
Amidst the roaring cheers, Orion ignored them all. His gaze flickered over to Lisanna and Elysia, both of whom were still processing the sheer, blinding speed at which everything had occurred, their faces a mixture of shock and awe.
A playful smirk touched his lips, and before they could react, he reached out and gently pinched both of their soft noses.
"Ah!" They let out simultaneous, cute, indignant yelps, batting his hand away and glaring at him with perfectly matched, annoyed pouts.
Elysia scoffed, composing herself with an elegant toss of her silver hair, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. "Can you try to act with a shred of grace for one second? The entire Province is watching you."
"Hmph," Lisanna snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's hopeless. Don't worry, I'm really going to have to teach you a lesson tonight."
Elysia nodded in firm agreement before she fully registered the words. The blush on her cheeks deepened. "And you! Mind your words in public!"
Lisanna just huffed, undeterred. "What? It's the only way this blockhead will ever learn."
"Are you three quite finished?" Lyra interjected, making an exaggerated gagging motion that earned her twin scoffs.
She ignored them and looked at her brother. "Now, are we killing these dumbasses or not? I have to be honest, stomping on ants is getting seriously boring."
"You can only get so much from C-Ranks," Orion replied with a wry smile, shaking his head. His expression then turned serious as he looked over at Elysia and Lisanna. "But before we do anything, I want your opinions. Should we just kill them all? I have a feeling that might be a bit… troublesome down the line."
Faced with this question, the playful atmosphere vanished. Elysia and Lisanna immediately turned serious, their expressions hardening. Neither of them flinched at the prospect of deciding the life or death of so many. They understood that to stand beside these two siblings, days like this would become the norm.
As the ones more strategically and politically minded, they began to analyze the situation, the fate of two noble houses and a foreign delegation resting on their words.
A calm, almost unnatural silence descended upon the blood-spattered stage. Elysia and Lisanna swept a shared, dispassionate gaze over the struggling survivors.
The remnants of the Valerian and Ironhearth forces were barely clinging to life, a testament to Lyra's merciless efficiency.
Ryan, Collyer, Cassian, Kane, and Iskra were sprawled on the floor, their formidable Aether suits cracked and powerless, their bodies wracked with a chilling frost that suppressed their Cores completely. They were no better than common citizens now, helpless and broken.
After a moment, Elysia crossed her arms, her sapphire eyes as cold and hard as the ice she commanded.
"For those who are already dead," she began, her voice measured and clear, cutting through the low groans of the wounded, "while they are C-Rank heroes, they were part of an entire contingent attempting to besiege two individuals. No matter how the Directorate's spin doctors try to frame it, it is an undeniable fact that overwhelming force was necessary for you and Lyra to defend yourselves. The casualties are simply an unavoidable consequence of their aggression."
Her gaze then flicked to the three figures from Zenith City—Ryan, Collyer, and Cassian. A sneer of pure contempt twisted her beautiful features, and the arctic chill that radiated from her sent a fresh wave of terror down their spines.
"As for these three," she practically spat the words, "and by extension, the entire Valerian house… there's no strategic use in keeping them alive."
She paused, letting the brutal weight of her declaration settle over the kneeling men. "The Directorate fancies itself the arbiter of global stability, so it will sometimes involve itself in inter-Provincial conflicts. But internal power struggles? A feud between noble houses within a single Province? They are perfectly content to turn a blind eye, so long as it doesn't threaten the overarching structure of their precious system."
"Really now?" Orion's casual smile began to morph into something cruel, a predatory light dancing in his eyes.
An annoyed look crossed Lyra's face. "Seriously? You're telling me I could've just wasted this trash long before all this nonsense?"
Elysia sighed while Lisanna offered a wry smile.
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Lisanna explained, her tone light but her words sharp as tempered steel. "I mean, villains attempting to kill large groups of heroes and nobles is a common enough occurrence. They either end up locked away in the highest security prisons or are publicly executed for their crimes. For someone..."
She paused, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow as she realized it was genuinely difficult to classify Orion or Lyra. They had never registered, never taken an exam, never once participated in the system they were now upending. Pushing past the thought, she continued, "...for someone who isn't a registered villain to try and ruin a Noble House, it would inevitably draw suspicion from the Directorate. You can't have heroes scheming against and killing other heroes, now can you? It's bad for appearances."
Lyra scoffed loudly at the notion. Elysia sighed again, a familiar expression of exasperation at Lyra's bluntness.
"Indeed," Elysia continued, picking up the thread. "But now, with this farce—this public, documented, and frankly idiotic invasion—even the Directorate would struggle to put in a good word for these families. They will turn a blind eye to whatever happens next. And on the off chance they do try to intervene…"
"Then they'll get their own turn at taking my fist," Lyra finished, her lips curling into a sweet, unsettling smile that sent a wave of unease through the audience members close enough to see it.
The expression only caused Orion and Elysia to roll their eyes while Lisanna let out a light chuckle.
Ignoring Lyra, Elysia shifted her gaze to Kane and Iskra, who were trembling violently under the weight of her attention.
She furrowed her brows. "For these two, however, the situation is more delicate. They stand at the very top of Ironhearth's power structure. Director Valerius Kane and Commander Iskra are well-known peak C-Rank Heroes, not just in their home Province but across several other neighboring Provinces. Killing them and the rest of their delegation will undoubtedly incite a chaotic, large-scale conflict. The Directorate will be forced to step in this time, and much faster."
"Tch," Lyra clicked her tongue in annoyance. "I wish I could just ignore those fools, but even as a glorified information network, that so-called Directorate undoubtedly has direct connections to more than a few B and A-Rank Heroes, eh?"
Lisanna sighed and nodded gravely. "That's right. It's not that the higher ranks would ignore this situation otherwise, but news of a full-blown war between Provinces would bring them down on us much faster. They'd see it as a direct threat to their own stability."
Lyra scoffed again but said no more. Even she could see how troublesome a premature conflict with B and A-Rank heroes would be. They were all growing rapidly stronger, but their growth, while miraculous, was not infinite.
Orion certainly didn't want a full-on conflict with a B-Rank Province, much less an A-Rank one, at this stage.
Strength.
Power.
That is what they urgently needed.
The world taught that power came with responsibility, but Orion knew better. Only overwhelming, absolute power could make any lasting change. And to continue his insane rate of growth, dealing with what was in front of them came first.
After several more moments of thought, Orion snapped his fingers.
The sound was sharp, decisive. The ice chains coiled around Kane and Iskra instantly dispersed into glittering motes of Aether, causing the two leaders to collapse heavily onto the stage floor.
They groaned, coughing up mouthfuls of blood, the impact jarring their brutalized bodies. They struggled to even get to their knees, their entire beings trembling uncontrollably as they stared, mesmerized with terror, at the two siblings.
"You... you..." Kane and Iskra struggled to form a single coherent sentence, their minds fractured by fear.
Orion let out a smirk that froze their very souls. "Me, me what? You invaded my city. You threatened my family. You were nearly killed for your trouble. Be grateful I am letting you go this time, because I promise you, there will not be a next time. Now, take what's left of your people and get the fuck out of my city. And don't ever forget, setting foot here again will be the very last move you ever make."
"Hah," Lyra chuckled, a low, menacing sound that promised endless pain. "I'm almost hoping you're stupid enough to try. I'll be sure to make your final moments exquisitely slow and agonizing."
"I-I-I-" Kane and Iskra completely sputtered, their minds overloaded by pure, primal fear. A disgusting, pungent stench of ammonia and waste suddenly radiated from between their legs as their bladders gave out completely.
Orion had subtly projected a thin veil of Aether to muffle the sound of their conversation from the audience. But seeing the once-mighty Director and Commander of Ironhearth soiling themselves was a universal language.
The sight alone caused a ripple of reactions across the stadium, from shocked gasps to sneering disgust and outright howls of derisive laughter.
"Seriously? They're actually pissing themselves in fear! How pathetic!"
"What a joke! The so-called 'hard-as-steel' heroes of Ironhearth are nothing more than cowards!"
"Tch, disgusting. Return from whence you came, invaders!"