The Throne Room was a crucible. The Grand Master and his three Legendary-rank bodyguards were the final barrier before true global influence. The air crackled with the raw power of their auras, each one a crushing, dense weight against my Epic-Echelon 2 core. They were waiting for me to falter, to show fear, or to make the first move.
My final move was calculated psychological warfare, powered by my absolute efficiency.
I didn't draw a weapon. I didn't even raise my voice. I simply channeled my full Epic power, not into an attack, but into a display of pure dominance.
I simultaneously activated my defensive layers: the cold, diamond sheen of Polaris Ursus ice encased my body, while a shimmering, unstable field of Energy Null shimmered around the ice, ready to disperse any incoming elemental attack. Then, I let the full, concentrated force of the Storm Titan Core surge outwards.
The electrical essence didn't strike them; it simply radiated. The powerful, chaotic white and blue lightning pulsed from my gauntlet, hitting the Grand Master'sLegendary bodyguards not with physical force, but with overwhelming, chaotic resonance. The power was too vast, too uncontrolled, and too unpredictable for their rigid, refined Legendary cores to instantly repel.
The three bodyguards recoiled, their ancient armor humming violently as they struggled to filter the raw energy I was broadcasting.
Grand Master Theron's eyes widened, recognizing the distinct signature of the Storm Titan Core and the horrifying realization: I hadn't just stolen the essence; I had fully mastered and weaponized a power he intended for a static defense grid.
"You are unstable," Theron finally hissed, his voice strained. "You will destroy yourself and my Guild!"
"No," I corrected, a cold satisfaction settling in my chest. "I am the correction. Your system relies on predictable hierarchy. I rely on absolute, unpredictable efficiency."
I took a single, slow step toward the throne. "You will not dissect me. You will not confine me. You will give me the Central Authority communication codes and the Legendary archives on their operation. I need to know who built the 48-hour cycle and why they want to control the flow of power."
I paused, delivering the final ultimatum. "Your choice is simple: Vassalage or Oblivion. If I leave this room having fought your bodyguards, I will not stop until I have harvested every Epic essence in Solaria City and sent the Legendary lore to every minor Guild in the world. I will dismantle the hierarchy and cripple your global authority."
Theron stared at the lightning crackling around my body, the cold, lethal resolve in my eyes. He was a politician, not a warrior. He was unwilling to risk the total destruction of his ancient Guild against a self-guided, optimized weapon of absolute power.
"The codes are yours," Theron whispered, defeated. He waved a hand, and the three Legendary bodyguards, their auras still flickering from the resonance, slowly sheathed their weapons.
---
The fight never happened, but the climax was achieved. I had conquered the final local hurdle—not with a sword, but with superior strategic knowledge and optimized power delivery.
Theron immediately provided me with a secure, crystalline communication device and the restricted access keys to the Grand Guild's Central Archives.
I was no longer just the Controller of Vigan; I was the authorized, though unwanted, access point to the world's most powerful organization.
My status was now: Epic-Echelon 2 Hunter (De Facto Rank S).