The sky above the Union Grand Hall was filled with activity.
Daylight glared off the sleek, black hulls of a half-dozen military-grade helicopters circling overhead.
Caras mounted beneath them broadcast high-definition footage of the Hall’s courtyard below, where armored convoys lined the periter and Union officials in tailored suits strode quickly across the marble steps.
The scene was displayed across the towering digital billboards that lood over Sector Zero’s skyline—flashing across storefronts, building sides, and even the hovering taxis frozen in mid-air traffic.
Every screen bore the sa banner:
"Ergency Energy Summit — Union Branch Grand Hall — LIVE"
On one particularly massive billboard mounted across the Skybridge Plaza, the Union’s official dia partners had begun their coverage.
A sleek woman with platinum hair and piercing blue eyes appeared on-screen, dressed in an immaculate, fitted blazer. She tapped her earpiece once, then offered a smooth smile.
"Good morning, this is Lana Myre reporting live from the Skydeck with Union NewsNet."
Beside her, a slightly older man with dark, tousled hair and a perpetually amused look gave a wave to the cara.
"And I’m Kael Strix. And if you’re just tuning in, then yes—those helicopters overhead aren’t just for show. Sothing major is happening."
Lana nodded. "Just monts ago, the Union Branch Director sent a high-priority, city-wide summons to every major political and economic body—Guildmasters, family heads, major officials, massive business owners, you na it. All instructed to attend this summit imdiately."
Kael leaned forward toward the lens. "Now, official word is that it’s an energy review, but let’s not kid ourselves."
Lana raised a brow. "You’re thinking what I’m thinking?"
He smirked. "This has everything to do with Alister. The Dragon Lord, Lord of Dragons. Or, as so netfeeds are starting to call him—The Shadow Regent."
Lana folded her arms. "I wouldn’t go that far."
"Oh co on," Kael said, half-laughing. "He executed a criminal live on cara, summoned dragons over the city, and just last night dined in Sector Three with Guildmaster Anya. You’re telling he’s not asserting control?"
Lana didn’t flinch. "He’s stabilizing chaos. There’s a difference."
Kael tilted his head. "So would call it a power grab."
"And so," Lana replied coolly, "would call it leadership. The Union has been a fractured ss since the President’s death. People want soone decisive. Soone who can back up their words with power. And frankly..."
She looked straight into the cara. "The fact that it happens to be soone like Alister—who commands dragons and brings results—shouldn’t disqualify him."
Kael blinked. "Wow. That was... passionate."
Lana offered a small smile. "I care about this city. And I’d rather a terrifying protector than a complacent bureaucrat."
Kael gave an exaggerated sigh. "Or maybe you just think he’s hot."
Lana rolled her eyes. "Really?"
"I an, have you seen the guy?" Kael gestured dramatically at the screen behind them, which replayed a slow-motion clip of Alister descending from a dragon in a black coat, fire swirling behind him. "If I looked like that, I’d take over a few things too."
Lana gave him a long, unimpressed look. "You’re a child."
He winked at the cara. "A handso one."
Back at the Union Hall, the cara drones zood in on the arriving Guildmasters, major business owners, and family heads.
So looked composed. Others, nervous.
But they were all here.
Because whatever was about to be announced... was sothing none of them could afford to ignore.
...
The sleek white limousine of the White Cots rolled to a slow, purring stop in front of the Union Grand Hall.
Its surface glead like a cot dragged from the stars. The temperature of the air around the Hall seed to shift. Dozens of caras pivoted in unison. Reporters leaned in. And the murmuring crowd near the security line fell silent.
Out stepped Yuuto.
Impeccably dressed in his guild uniform. And flanked on both sides by his team leaders... except Alister.
First ca Hiroshie, who took one look at the sea of flashing lights and waved lazily at a drone. "Tch. All this fuss just for a speech?"
He turned to Lady Aiko, who adjusted her glasses, then said, "Is that really all this is about? Just that speech Alister said he wanted to give?"
Aiko nodded. "Yes. And if he truly plans to say what I suspect... it will be anything but just a speech."
Behind them, Kaida cracked her knuckles as she stepped out, her hair fluttering in the city breeze. "Feels more like we’re heading into a declaration of war than a press conference," she muttered.
"You think it’ll be that bad?" Goro asked, following closely, his massive fra casting a long shadow across the tiled steps. His face looked... eager.
Kaida shrugged. "Depends on how many dragons show up mid-sentence."
Then, Ren stepped out. Quiet. Composed. But the mont his boots touched the ground, his gaze slid toward Yuuto—sharp and calculating, just shy of accusatory.
Yuuto didn’t et his eyes.
Instead, after a second, he spoke calmly, his gaze still ahead.
"Is there sothing on my face, Ren?"
Ren blinked. Straightened. "No, sir."
Yuuto finally glanced over—just briefly. His eyes lingered, unreadable, then drifted away again.
"...Alright."
The group began their slow ascent up the stairs toward the Grand Hall, where the doors stood open, flanked by armored Union officers.
Above them, the largest screen in the sector continued to stream live, and across the city, millions watched the arrival—unaware of just how much the world was about to shift.
High above the Union Grand Hall, a massive, whale-sized airship drifted silently through the clouds—its reinforced hull painted black and silver, emblazoned with the Union’s crest. Beneath it, the gondola, a sleek structure lined with tinted glass and edged with glowing advertisents, projected an enormous billboard on its underside for the entire city below to see.
Inside the gondola’s private observation suite, Branch Director Aethel Varros stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes locked on the sprawling cityscape through the full-length windows. The morning light poured in, gleaming off the polished floor. His suit was as immaculate as ever—coal-black with a crimson tie. His silver hair was combed straight back, his beard trimd. And yet, there was sothing hollow in the sharpness of his gaze.
’This is all your fault...’
He thought silently.
’You were to keep your promise... Galisk... you fool.’
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