Chapter 528: At The World Council Summit [II / Bonus - ]

Chapter 528: At The World Council Summit [II / Bonus Chapter]

Scattered throughout the hall were the scions, heirs, and high-ranking retainers of the global elite.

Young men and women clad in military dress uniforms, silk robes from the Shogunate Isles, and heavy jewel-encrusted tunics from the Indus Sovereignty mingled in quiet murmuring clusters.

High-tier mana signatures hummed through the air... mostly Blue Cores, with the occasional flare of a high-ranking core whose presence commanded immediate space.

Aki walked toward the central refreshment terrace with her movements calm and graceful.

She didn’t look at the whispering groups...

’It’s useless to think about it.’

She knew what they were saying, it was impossible not to ever since she had heard the murmurs at every state banquet since she turned sixteen.

’The useless one.’

’Look at her... not a drop of mana in her veins.’

’Why does the King even bring her? The Crown Prince commands fleets, and she’s just decorative glass.’

Aki approached the polished obsidian bar, resting one gloved hand on the counter. "Chilled mineral water, please."

"Allow me, Your Highness."

A smooth oily voice cut in from her right and Aki turned her head slightly.

Standing beside her was a young man in his early twenties, possessing sharp noble features, slicked-back chestnut hair, and an expensive tailored three-piece suit cut from void-silk that shimmered with blue defensive enchantments.

A heavy gold signet ring bearing the soaring falcon crest of the Republic of Columbia rested on his pinky finger.

He lifted two crystal flutes of pale golden champagne from the bar, offering one toward her with a dazzling smile.

"Julian Vanderbilt," he introduced himself, his eyes lingering with unhidden assessment over the curves of her velvet gown. "Son of President Vanderbilt of the Republic of Columbia... It is a rare honor to find the celebrated First Princess standing unaccompanied in such an austere hall."

Aki did not reach for the glass.

Her azure eyes met his with flat unblinking calm. "I requested water, Mr. Vanderbilt and I am quite content with my own company."

Julian didn’t lower the glass.

His smile remained fixed, though the corners of his eyes tightened with the slight irritating arrogance common to corporate scions who were never told ’no.’

’Tch...’

"A simple drink between allies, Princess," Julian murmured, taking a half-step closer, his shoulder subtly crowding her space against the bar counter. "Surely the royal family allows for polite conversation with the delegation that funds forty percent of the northern perimeter’s defensive ammunition?"

"I have no interest in your conversation, Mr. Vanderbilt," Aki said, her voice dropping a bit sounding cold. "Step back."

Julian let out a quiet scoffing chuckle through his nose. He set the champagne glasses down onto the marble counter with a sharp clack, turning his full torso to face her.

The warmth in his expression died, replaced by that familiar condescending sneer she had seen on her brother’s face a thousand times.

"You have quite the temper for an Unawakened woman, Princess," Julian said, his voice dropping into a low murmur that barely carried beyond the counter. "You carry yourself as if that title still holds weight but let’s be realistic about what you are in this room... You don’t have a Lord Core... You can’t circulate a single volt of mana. If the engines on this island failed right now, the environmental pressure would snap your delicate spine like a dry twig."

He leaned in with his breath smelling of mint and expensive brandy.

"A woman of your... status... has only one true value to the high courts and we all know it, even you... your ancestral bloodline. A convenient vessel to produce an heir for someone who actually wields power so you should be using this summit to secure a patron who can protect your budget when your father finally decides to discard—"

"Hey. You."

A sharp feminine voice cut through the air behind them.

It wasn’t loud, but it carried a strange crackling heat that made the hair on the back of Julian’s neck instantly stand on end.

Julian frowned, turning his head over his shoulder with an irritated scowl.

"Who the hell is—"

SWOOSH!

A blur of fiery flowing crimson hair cut through the lounge’s warm light like a streak of burning phosphorus.

Before Julian Vanderbilt could even register the motion, before the defensive enchantments on his void-silk suit could cycle their barriers, a slender leather-clad foot materialized in the center of his vision.

CRACK-THWACK!

The kick was executed with terrifying violence in a rising straight-line snap that drove the steel-reinforced toe of a combat boot directly and without a microsecond of hesitation straight into the fork of Julian Vanderbilt’s groin.

KRA-SNAP!

The sound that echoed through the Grand Rotunda was sickening... it was a wet muffled crunch of compressed flesh and fracturing pelvic cartilage.

Julian’s eyes instantly bulged until the whites were completely bloodshot.

The breath was violently expelled from his lungs in a sharp, wheezing shriek that sounded like a stepped-on bagpipe.

"GYAAAAAAAH—!"

The force of the kick lifted the son of the Columbian President four inches off the polished marble floor.

He collapsed sideways, violently slamming his forehead against the edge of the obsidian bar with a hollow thump, before spilling onto the white floor tiles in a twitching fetal heap, clutching his crotch with both hands as his mouth opened and a string of bloody saliva pooled on the marble.

The surrounding delegates went dead silent as laughter died mid-throat, crystal flutes froze half-raised and the low murmur of political negotiations collapsed into stunned horror.

Standing over the crumpled body of the corporate heir was a young woman who looked like an active wildfire given human shape.

Her hair was a brilliant cascading mane of liquid crimson that fell in jagged radiant waves past her shoulder blades.

Her porcelain skin contrasted sharply with eyes of pure burning ruby red that flashed with visible atmospheric heat.

She was dressed in a sleek high-collared combat tunic of deep ash-gray, cinched with weapon belts holding twin curved hunting daggers with her posture exuding the effortless feeling of an apex hunter.

Seraphina Bloom pulled her boot back, letting the leather heel tap lightly against the stone with a crisp clack.

She looked down at the writhing man with an expression of pure disgust.

"Men like you are a blight on the species," Seraphina spat, her voice ringing clear through the dead silence of the lounge. "Every time you open your greasy mouths, you make the rest of the world look like an abattoir."

She let out a long irritated sigh, rolling her ruby eyes toward the high ceiling mosaics.

"Ugh. It’s because of pathetic entitled insects like this that my mother treats every male in our household like a piece of upholstery... You strut around with your father’s title, flapping your gums about ’bloodlines’ and ’useful vessels,’ and you can’t even take a basic physical strike without crying on the floor."

Seraphina raised her right boot, casually planting the sole directly onto the back of Julian’s head, grinding his cheek into the marble floor with steady merciless pressure.

CRUNCH!

"N-Ngh... stop... my father... is the Pres—" Julian choked out, his fingers clawing uselessly at her leather greave.

"I don’t give a damn if your father is the Emperor of the Sun," Seraphina said coldly, pressing her heel down harder until his nose cartilage audibly clicked. "You’re soft and you’re brittle... My prospective consort, or rather my Fiancee, wouldn’t behave like this."

Why couldn’t everyone be like Silas? Well except her Dad...

She paused, a reflective hum escaping her throat as she tapped her boot rhythmically against the side of Julian’s skull.

TAP! TAP!

"Hell," Seraphina muttered, almost to herself, "Silas wouldn’t even flinch from a direct kick to the groin... You take one tap to the jewels and you’re lying in your own spit, This is disgusting."

Aki stood by the bar with her azure eyes wide and her silk fan frozen in her hands.

’Silas...?’

Her heart gave a violent sudden leap behind her ribs.

Before Seraphina could drive her heel through Julian’s jaw, a broad iron-plated gauntlet reached out from the crowd, gently catching the crimson-haired girl by the shoulder of her tunic.

"Alright, Sera, that’s enough," a relaxed, easygoing voice chuckled from behind her. "You’re going to crack the floor tiles, and the Council charges double for architectural repairs..."

Seraphina clicked her tongue, though she relented, pulling her boot off the groaning man’s head and crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed pout.

"He deserved worse, Val. He was breathing too loud."

Stepping out from behind the crimson-haired prodigy was a tall strikingly handsome young man with unruly sun-bleached blonde hair and sharp hazel eyes.

He was clad in a full suit of brilliant gold mythril plate armor... the signature war-gear of House Sterling.

The armor was polished to an immaculate mirror sheen, though several microscopic dents and hairline scorch marks along the left pauldron betrayed that the metal had seen real brutal dungeon crawls rather than ceremonial parades.

He wore no helmet, instead a heavy iron-and-gold gauntlet was resting casually on his hip as he looked down at the whimpering Columbian heir with an amused shake of his head.

Valerius Sterling crouched down on one knee beside the twitching man, offering an open gauntleted hand with an easy boyish smile.

"Rough landing, buddy," Valerius said, his tone remarkably friendly and conversational. "Here, let me give you a hand up before the security enforcers come over to file an incident report..."

Julian Vanderbilt, his face covered in sweat and bloody saliva, looked up at the golden-armored heir of the Sterling Financial Conglomerate with desperate tear-filled relief.

"T-Thank you, Sterling..." Julian wheezed, his trembling fingers reaching out to grasp the gold gauntlet. "That crazy bitch... she broke my—"

The moment Julian’s fingers closed around the metal palm, Valerius’s smile didn’t fade.

Instead, Valerius pivoted his hips, loaded his weight onto his back knee, and drove his heavy iron-plated combat boot straight up between Julian’s thighs with the concussive force of a battering ram.

KRA-BOOOOOOOOOM!

"HUUUUUURRRRRRRRGH?!"

A sound that didn’t belong to any known human language tore from Julian’s throat.

His entire body arched like a drawn bow, his feet flying up into the air as the second kick struck the exact same pulverized nerve cluster.

His eyes rolled back into his skull, showing only the whites, and he collapsed limp onto the floor, blissfully unconscious with a thin line of white foam bubbling from his lips.

THUD!

Valerius rose smoothly to his full height, dusting off the knee of his gold mythril greave with a satisfied nod.

He looked around at the petrified frozen crowd of high-born delegates, clearing his throat in a pleasant tone.

"A brief educational PSA for the honored guests of the Republic," Valerius announced cheerfully, resting both hands on his hips. "When addressing a lady... specifically, the First Princess of the World, one generally bows, offers a polite greeting, and steps three paces back so you aren’t breathing your cheap cologne into her face. That’s basic etiquette, gentlemen. Take notes..."

He turned back toward Seraphina, letting out a long sigh as he adjusted his pauldron.

"Though, you’re right, Sera," Valerius remarked, sighing a bit. "Silas definitely wouldn’t be doing any of this... He would probably avoid the trouble or something though, he’s not the kind of person that’ll be a hero."

Aki stood entirely frozen against the obsidian counter.

Once was an anomaly or perhaps a coincidence of common names.

Twice... spoken by the favored prodigy of House Bloom and the direct heir of the Sterling Conglomerate, both referencing personal combat habits and temperaments meant...

’They know him,’ the realization slammed into Aki’s mind like a physical blow. ’They know Silas Graves!’

Aki took a slow deliberate step away from the bar.

Her azure eyes locked onto the tall, blonde noble standing in the golden armor as she lowered her silk fan, her composure slipping for the barest fraction of a second as her voice tumbled out.

"You know... Silas?"

Valerius Sterling paused.

He turned his head, his hazel eyes blinking once, twice, in mild surprise as he took in the royal maiden standing before him.

He looked at her royal-blue hair, the delicate imperial features, and then... for a brief bizarre second, his gaze flicked down toward the collar of her velvet gown and caught the faintest glimpse of the star-iron chain resting beneath the silk.

A proud grin stretched across Valerius’s handsome face as he puffed his chest out in his gleaming gold armor, resting an iron thumb against his breastplate.

"Know him?" Valerius chuckled boisterously, winking at the stunned Princess. "Your Highness... Silas Graves is my... best... friend."