DATE: 08/22/501 PC

  LOCATION: The High Spires – Bastion Gamma Summit Hall

  The "Black Sun" had made a fatal mistake: they assumed Zel was just a brawler.

  While Aris Sun had been making his hollow threats at the gates of Ulvgard, the Harthaven technical team—led by the CEO himself—had been dissecting the "Black Stone" Zel recovered from the Arachnoid Matriarch. It wasn't just a mana shard; it was a high-frequency transmitter linked directly to the Sun Clan’s private frequency. The Arachnoids hadn't stumbled upon the Harthaven transport by chance—they had been guided to it.

  "The logs are undeniable," Harthaven had told Zel via encrypted link. "The Sun Clan used the monsters as a proxy to eliminate my lineage. They didn't want a rescue; they wanted a funeral."

  Standing at the entrance of the High Spires, Zel adjusted the collar of his black command coat. Beside him, Ashley looked stunning and lethal in a high-collared blue formal suit, her Epic-Grade core humming with a cold, controlled light.

  "You ready to set the building on fire?" Zel whispered, his eyes scanning the security detail of the Spires.

  "The data is already in the hands of the secondary CEOs," Ashley replied, her voice low. "The moment we enter that hall, the clock starts ticking."

  As they entered the Summit Hall, the room went silent. This was the sanctuary of the elite—the leaders of the Black Sun, the Iron Vultures, and the various corporate heads of Gamma. At the head of the table sat Rios Sun, his eyes narrowing as he saw the "scavenger" he had tried to buy out just yesterday.

  "Captain Nightgaze," Rios boomed, his voice dripping with false authority. "We were discussing the 'Security Tax' your new settlement owes the Bastion. I didn't expect you to join us so soon."

  Zel pulled out a chair, the legs screeching against the marble floor, and sat down. He didn't wait for an invitation.

  "I'm not here to talk about taxes, Rios," Zel said, leaning back and crossing his boots on the edge of the table. "I'm here to talk about the 'Wolf-Bite' we found in the Harthaven transport's black box. Or more specifically... the signal you sent to the Arachnoids to tell them exactly where to find a mother and her child."

  The room became a vacuum. Several CEOs looked toward Rios, their expressions shifting from boredom to sharp suspicion.

  "You're delusional," Aris Sun hissed from behind his brother. "Baseless accusations from a man who lives in the mud."

  "Is it baseless?" Ashley stepped forward, tapping her wrist-mounted holographic projector. A map of the Grey Wastes filled the air, showing a digital trail of Black Sun communication pings leading directly to the Matriarch's lair. "The Harthaven technicians have verified the encryption keys. They belong to the Sun Clan’s private server. In the eyes of the Bastion's founding laws, that’s not just murder—it’s high treason against a founding member."

  Rios Sun’s face didn't change, but the mana in the room began to vibrate. He was a General-Grade user, and his pressure was immense. "You think you can come into my house and threaten me with forged logs?"

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  "I'm not threatening you," Zel said, his Knight-Grade core flaring in response, the red aura pushing back against Rios's golden pressure. "I'm telling you. The Harthaven family has already filed for a full audit of the Sun Clan’s assets. And until that audit is finished, the Void Wolves are taking over the 'Southern Perimeter Security'—by order of the CEO Council."

  Zel stood up, his obsidian eyes locking onto Rios’s. "Ulvgard isn't just a dome anymore, Rios. It’s the new capital of the South. And if you send one more 'diplomat' to my gate, I won't send them back in a transport. I'll send them back in a box."

  Zel and Ashley turned and walked out of the hall, leaving the most powerful man in Gamma in a state of cold, murderous fury. The political war had begun, and the Wolves had just taken the first bite.

  DATE: 08/22/501 PC

  LOCATION: The High Spires – Summit Hall

  Just as the tension reached a breaking point, Zel stopped in his tracks. A cold, predatory grin spread across his face as he turned back to the table. Ashley, though momentarily confused by his sudden halt, sensed the shift in the air and moved to his flank, her hand resting near her mana-focus.

  Zel didn't just sit; he reclaimed the room. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he bypassed the room's security and slaved the central projector to his own device.

  "You know, I thought about just leaving you with the kidnapping charges," Zel said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, dangerous bass. "But let’s be honest—Rios doesn't care about a few laws. So let’s talk about what the Council does care about: Performance and Power."

  Dozens of data-streams erupted onto the walls of the hall. The council members leaned in, their eyes widening as they saw the comparative analysis.

  "Look at the logs," Zel commanded. "In the last five months, the Black Sun has taken 80% of the media-covered missions. Low-risk, high-glory tasks. Meanwhile, the Void Wolves and the Iron Vultures have handled every single 'High-Risk' and 'Optional' mission in the southern sector. We are doing the dirty work that keeps this city breathing while you guys are busy filming recruitment commercials."

  Zel leaned forward, tapping a red-highlighted section of the data. "But here's the fun part. My intel team found a pattern. Every time a promising independent squad reached Tier-2 status in the last three years, they suffered a 'tragic accident' in the field. Every. Single. One. And every one of those accidents happened on a mission where a Black Sun 'support' unit was nearby."

  The room erupted in hushed, frantic whispers. The names of disgraced or dead captains began to scroll across the screen, many of them linked to the council members currently sitting at the table.

  "We are rotting from within!" Zel roared, slamming his fist onto the marble, the Knight-Grade core's pressure making the glasses on the table shatter. "You wonder why Gamma is called the 'Soft Bastion'? Why the other four territories look at us like a joke? It’s because you favored a man who harvests his own people instead of the enemy!"

  Zel stood up, his red aura flaring until it looked like a physical flame. He looked at the stunned council members—some pale with fear, others red with fury.

  "Hear me clearly," Zel hissed. "The Ulvgard is sitting between a Red Zone and an Orange Zone. We are the only reason your southern border isn't a graveyard. We are your wall extension, and we did it without taking a single credit from your precious treasury."

  He walked to the center of the table and leaned over Rios, who was trembling with a mix of rage and shock. Zel didn't look at him like a subordinate; he looked at him like a butcher looks at a side of beef.

  "Try touching my home. Try touching my people. And I guarantee you, the next throat I slit won't belong to a mana being."

  Zel spat directly into the center of the mahogany table—a gesture of ultimate disrespect in the High Spires.

  "Consider this a threat. And consider it your last warning."

  Without waiting for a response, Zel turned on his heel. Ashley followed, her expression cold and resolute, as they marched out of the hall. Behind them, the silence of the room was broken only by the frantic shouting of council members as they saw their own names flashing on the "Accomplice List" on the screen.

  The war for Bastion Gamma had just moved from the shadows into the open air.