So ti passed. Xavier lounged on the couch, half-dozing while Angel clicked away at whatever black-ops hack job she was working on. Then his phone buzzed. A new ssage.
Yelena: Father approved. This is the link. Do NOT make a ss.
Xavier smirked. "Do not make a ss, huh? Cute." He slid the phone across to Angel. "I'll need your toy."
Angel looked up, eyes narrowing. "You break my headset, and I'll break your legs. Try not to drool on it."
"Relax. I'll keep it cleaner than your browsing history."
"Bastard." But she tossed him the sleek black VR rig anyway.
Xavier leaned back, slipped it on, and the real world lted away.
The feed snapped alive—an empty void that restructured itself pixel by pixel until it beca a gleaming virtual courtroom. Polished wood benches, hovering holographic screens, judges' podium. It looked more like a corporate boardroom built by so VR architect with too much budget and zero imagination.
A status bar blinked on the corner of his vision: Connection established. Xavier: Guest Participant.
He scanned the gallery. Rows of avatars—lawyers, clerks, spectators, even fake security guards made of bland polygons. Yelena's avatar, seated on the prosecution side, glanced over her shoulder as if to check he'd really joined.
And then there they were. Ethan and his four teammates, lined up on the defense side. Their avatars were rendered close to real—company suits, stiff posture—but Xavier knew the truth. He could see the cracks even through VR: Ethan's jittering hands, one of his guys shifting like he was about to puke, another trying too hard to sit perfectly still.
Xavier leaned back in his virtual seat, spreading out like he owned the place. "Well, look at that," he muttered, voice carrying through the courtroom audio. "They actually showed up."
The system's neutral AI voice intoned: "Court session will begin in sixty seconds. Please remain in your assigned areas."
Xavier smirked, already planning how to turn this sterile little simulation into a slaughterhouse.
The chamber's light bent into order as the VR court stabilized, avatars slotting into rows of benches. The judge's dais floated higher than the rest, a symbol as much as a seat.
"Court session comncing," the AI clerk announced in its monotone. "Case number 7882: Ethan Sterling and associates, defendants. Charges include fraud, digital manipulation, illegal gambling practices, cyber-forgery, and related infractions. Presiding Judge: High Arbitrator Robert."
The judge's avatar appeared—a man carved in clean lines, every wrinkle sharp as if precision-coded. He lifted the gavel, and before it could fall, Xavier leaned back in his chair and let his voice cut across the chamber.
"Fraud, manipulation, illegal gambling," Xavier drawled loudly, lounging deeper into his chair. "Yo, Ethan, don't you think so of your cris are missing from the list? Do you want to say them out loud and provide evidence?"
Dozens of heads swiveled at once. Defense lawyers blinked. Prosecutors frowned. Ethan's avatar jerked like a puppet yanked on a string, his jaw locked, hatred simring under the surface.
The gavel slamd. "Order! Any further outbursts and you will be removed from this proceeding imdiately!"
Xavier stretched lazily, hands behind his head. "Sorry, Your Honor. Just trying to keep the room alive."
The judge's glare was sharp enough to kill. Then, his eyes flicked toward the participant log, and sothing shifted. His voice slowed.
"…Xavier?"
The ripple was instant. Whispers in digital undertones spread like a current across the benches. Even the defense's lawyer faltered, glancing between Ethan and the judge. Ethan turned fully now, his avatar trembling with barely contained rage.
Xavier flashed a grin, mock-saluting. "That's ."
The judge didn't slam his gavel this ti. He leaned forward, gaze narrowed in recognition—or calculation. "Mr. Xavier. Your presence here is… irregular. Nonetheless, you will remain after this hearing concludes. I have… matters to discuss with you privately."
The entire chamber seed to still at those words. A judge asking to speak privately? That wasn't protocol.
Xavier cocked a brow but kept his smirk. "Well, I wasn't planning to log off. Curiosity's kind of my weakness."
The judge's tone hardened again, back to formality. "Until then, you will remain silent unless spoken to. This is a court, not a stage."
"Understood, Your Honor," Xavier replied, but the grin didn't leave his face.
Inside though, his thoughts were already running hot. A judge didn't change tune mid-hearing without a reason. And now Xavier had a puzzle sitting right in front of him.
'What the hell does he want from ?'
The hearing rolled forward like a storm of words. Lawyers from both sides clawed at each other with digital docunts, exhibits projected into midair—transaction logs, rigged tables, coded loopholes caught fra by fra. The defense tried to drown the court in legal jargon, blaming glitches, blaming third-party interference, even throwing in so laughable sob story about Ethan's "youthful mistakes."
Yelena cut them down without flinching. Her avatar, wrapped in cold authority, moved with surgical precision. Every claim was t with hard data, every excuse with tistamps and cross-referenced proof. She didn't just argue—she gutted them. Watching her was like watching a surgeon who'd lost patience and decided to use a chainsaw.
Xavier leaned back in his virtual chair, smirking as Ethan's avatar twitched with every point Yelena scored. The guy kept clenching his digital fists, but he couldn't mute the reality flashing over everyone's feeds: his little empire of scams had been built on rotten code and stolen chips.
Finally, the room dimd as the Judge raised his hand. The AI clerk froze all streams, leaving only the cold silence of judgnt.
"Having reviewed the evidence presented," The judge's voice echoed, heavy as a verdict carved in stone, "this court finds the defendants guilty of systematic fraud, manipulation, and violation of multiple interstellar gambling codes."
The gavel slamd once, but he wasn't finished.
"As restitution, the defendants are ordered to repay every stolen credit in full—plus a compounded penalty of ten percent interest per day, calculated from the inception of their cris until today's ruling."
The chamber's AI imdiately began processing, neon numbers rolling like a slot machine above the court. 10 million. 50 million. 2 billion. 40 billion. The counter didn't stop climbing, spinning higher and higher until the digits blurred. The lawyers' avatars twitched as they realized what this ant. Ethan's face was frozen in horror.
The final number locked in.
$498,772,339,004.
Almost five hundred billion.
Gasps rippled through the avatars. Even Yelena's calm mask shifted slightly, just enough for Xavier to catch the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.
Ethan and his associates were baffled. Even though it was a virtual avatar, it seed as though their faces had turned pale in shock.
The judge's voice cut through the silence. "The debt is final. Failure to comply will result in imdiate seizure of assets, blacklisting across all corporate and syndicate territories, and full authorization for bounty enforcent."
Xavier couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Guess you're broke, Ethan. Well—more broke than usual. Better start checking under your sofa cushions. How does it feel?"
The gavel slamd again. "Xavier. One more word and you will be removed."
But the judge's earlier words still lingered. He hadn't forgotten Xavier. He wanted him to stay.
And Xavier wasn't leaving until he knew why.
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