Elysia and Lisanna's eyes narrowed simultaneously, their breath catching in their throats. For the very first time since their Aether Core evolution, a genuine, undeniable pressure weighed down on them. It was a force so profound, so heavy, it felt as if the sky itself was collapsing, pressing the very air from their lungs.
This was not the arrogant, flashy aura of a C-Rank noble; this was the crushing, abyssal weight of the deep ocean, a veteran B-Rank's power in its totality.
They exchanged a brief, knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the terrifying reality before them, and then let out slow, controlled sighs.
"So," Elysia muttered, her voice tight with a tension that was entirely new to her, her own Ice Aether feeling thin and brittle under the strain. "This is a veteran B-Rank's power..."
"The difference is... immense," Lisanna added, her usual playful smile evaporating, replaced by a look of sharp, focused concentration. Her Photokinesis, usually so bright and commanding, felt like a candle guttering in a hurricane.
They understood instantly. Just as vast, unbridgeable chasms existed between the tiers of C-Rank heroes, a true separation existed among B-Ranks. Only this time, the gulf felt far greater, an ocean where the other had been a mere river.
They knew, with a certainty that chilled them to the bone, that even if they combined their powers, even if they pushed their newly evolved B-Rank Talents to their absolute, desperate limit, they wouldn't be able to match Corbin at even half of his current, suffocating strength.
Still, this stark realization didn't bring fear. Their trust in Orion was an absolute shield, a fortress of faith that no enemy aura could penetrate. Instead, they stood their ground, calm and observant, treating this overwhelming display as a vital, visceral learning experience.
Lyra, on the other hand, merely scoffed, the crushing oceanic pressure rolling off her vibrating aura like water off hot steel. A feral, dangerous light ignited in her eyes, her knuckles cracking with sharp, explosive pops as she shifted her weight, preparing to leap into the fray.
She didn't feel suppressed; she felt stimulated. She lived for challenges that promised a real fight.
But a single, almost imperceptible glance from Orion stopped her cold. She met his placid gaze, saw the calm, absolute command within it, and let out an aggravated sigh that ruffled her bangs.
Shrugging in exaggerated annoyance, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms once more, reluctantly settling back into the role of spectator.
All the while, Terra blinked, genuinely feeling... something. A shift in the air, a weird heaviness, like the day before a big storm. But nestled so close to Orion's placid, unmoving aura—which acted as a perfect vacuum, a safe harbor against the raging tempest—the veteran B-Rank's pressure was little more than a strange, ignorable background hum.
She paid it no mind. Instead, she retrieved a small, foil-wrapped pastry she had pocketed from breakfast at the estate. She took a delicate, thoughtful bite, nibbling on the corner before remarking to the air, her voice clear in the suffocating tension, "Hm... These guys are really fancy. That just looks like a fast blender."
A light, genuine chuckle escaped Orion's lips, the sound utterly out of place, yet it effortlessly shattered the suffocating tension. He shot a brief, warm smile toward Terra, who beamed back, before his gaze settled once more on Major Corbin Stone.
In that instant, the warmth vanished, replaced by an arctic chill so profound it seemed to pierce through Corbin's very soul, challenging the dominance of his own aura.
"A grave error? Seriously?" Orion's tone was blunt, dismissive, and laced with a pity that was more insulting than any rage. "Stone, your error—and the error of everyone like you, from the Argent Federation to the Directorate —is thinking your so-called ranks and your pathetic status mean a single damn thing to me."
Corbin didn't bother to reply. The time for words, for posturing, for feigned authority, had irrevocably passed. With a primal roar that ripped from his throat and echoed like deep-sea thunder, he thrust his hand forward.
The spinning sphere of high-pressure water —the one Terra had moments ago dismissed—shot out. It was not a simple projectile; it was a force of nature given form, his signature technique: [Hydraulic Lance].
The attack didn't just pierce the air; it eroded it, leaving a screaming trail of superheated vapor in its wake. The very concept of pressure was weaponized, the lance spinning with such catastrophic force that it was designed to not just annihilate, but to grind, pulverize, and unmake anything in its path, capable of turning reinforced steel to molecular dust.
The air howled as the lance tore through it. Large, shattering cracks didn't just spread across the ferroconcrete platform; they exploded outwards, the ground itself seeming to liquefy and blast away under the strain. Even the nearby Aether-reinforced spaceport buildings began to groan and shudder, their structural integrity alarms blaring in a sudden, high-pitched symphony of panic, as if an unstoppable, localized typhoon had been unleashed upon the land.
This was the power of a true elite from a B-Rank province. This was an attack designed to end battles against other B-Ranks decisively and brutally.
Against this overwhelming, world-bending display of might, Orion simply blinked.
He raised a single finger.
In that infinitesimal moment, the world fell silent. His Aether rippled out—not as a wave, not as a suffocating pressure, but as a single, conceptual, absolute stream.
Everything froze.
The screaming alarms, the groaning buildings, the very dust particles in the air—all were locked in place. The unfathomable [Hydraulic Lance], a moment ago a harbinger of pure annihilation, ceased all movement. It hung suspended in the air a mere ten meters from him, its ferocious spin still visible, its kinetic energy so immense that the air around it shivered and warped, yet it could not advance a single millimeter further.
In that split-second of impossible, physics-defying stillness, Major Corbin Stone froze completely. His eyes widened in pure, unadulterated terror as an unstoppable, incomprehensible pressure restricted his entire being, locking him in place from his Aether Core to his very atoms.
A subtle, crystalline shimmer, like the glint of a flawless, trillion-carat diamond, gleamed across Orion's raised finger.
With a casual, almost bored flick, a small, needle-thin stream of this Diamond Aether shot forward at a speed that defied perception, a speed that was not movement, but arrival.
SHATTER!
A sound like a thousand crystal chandeliers exploding at once, a thunderous, crystalline chime, echoed across the platform.
The [Hydraulic Lance] disintegrated. Its seemingly immense power, its world-breaking pressure, its very existence, was revealed to be nothing more than fragile, brittle paper before that single, effortless gesture. The lance didn't just disperse; it was unmade, its complex Aether structure shattered and annihilated, reverting into a harmless, glittering mist of vapor that gently drifted away on a nonexistent breeze.
Corbin's face, already pale, turned a ghastly, bone-white. His instincts, his very soul, screamed at him to run, to flee, to do anything. But he was trapped, pinned by a power he couldn't even begin to comprehend.
Orion scoffed, his voice dripping with a disdain so profound it was a weapon in itself. He didn't shout. He didn't posture.
He simply stated, "Kneel."
Another flick of his finger. A piercing, scintillating chain of pure, condensed Diamond Aether erupted from the air before him. It didn't just move fast; it seemed to exist at its destination the very moment it was conceived.
"RAAAGH!" Corbin roared on pure, desperate instinct. His water Aether, the only thing he could move, hastily surged, creating a dozen layered, spinning walls of pressurized water between him and the chain, each one strong enough to stop an anti-tank shell.
It was useless.
The Diamond Aether chain met the defenses. With a series of contemptuous, shattering cracks, it tore through the water walls as if they were glass panes, spewing shockwaves of atomized mist that tore the already broken ground asunder.
There was no slowing it. There was no stopping it. The chain's conceptual sharpness simply denied the existence of his Aether.
"AHHH!"
A wet, agonized howl ripped from Corbin's throat as the chain savagely tore through his powerful, Aether-woven uniform and into his body.
A fountain of hot, crimson blood splashed through the air as the crystalline links ripped straight through his right shoulder, severing muscle, obliterating bone, and utterly destroying his Aether pathways.
In that same agonizing moment, Corbin hurled a spray of blood from his mouth as a second, invisible force—the weight of the world itself—slammed down upon him, pressing on his shoulders with the finality of a god's judgment.
His bones groaned, threatening to snap. His muscles screamed in protest. His flawless, unyielding military posture, forged through decades of war and discipline, buckled.
His knees, which had never bent to any foe, trembled violently.
Then, with a sickening, wet CRACK that echoed across the dead-silent platform, they slammed into the ferroconcrete.
He was on his knees. Head bowed, forced into the ultimate position of submission, gasping for air, blood pouring from his mouth and his ruined, dangling shoulder.
Orion simply blinked at the kneeling, broken figure, his head tilting slightly. He was about to speak, but Terra's voice cut cleanly through the silence. She giggled, pointing a curious finger at the major.
"See," she said, her tone one of simple, innocent observation, as if she had just solved a puzzle. "You got beat up because you're just so weird. Funny, right?"
Orion was sure she was genuinely asking a question, her innocent, straightforward logic cutting deeper and more cruelly than any intentional, venomous insult ever could.
Corbin gritted his teeth so hard a fresh stream of blood rolled down his cheek from his bitten tongue. He wanted to scream, to rage, to roar at the girl to shut her mouth, but he could not suppress the vortex of absolute frustration, bottomless humiliation, and bone-chilling terror that was spiraling and consuming his mind.
Lyra, on the other hand, didn't hold back in the slightest. She let out a peal of sharp, derisive laughter that rang out like bells of mockery. "Haha! Look at him! Look at the almighty Major from the Argent Federation, kneeling like a peasant! What orders do you have for us now, huh? 'Grave error'?"
Elysia sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose, her expression one of suffering.
"One isn't playing it up and the other is just naturally obnoxious," she remarked wearily to Lisanna. "This is pretty much how our 'negotiations' will go from now on, isn't it?"
Lisanna giggled lightly, shrugging her shoulders as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Look on the bright side, Ellie. At least we get to freely speak our minds. And come on," her golden eyes twinkled with mirth, "isn't this just a little bit funny?"
Elysia simply huffed and rolled her eyes, though she couldn't quite suppress the faint, traitorous smirk of amusement at the sheer, unbelievable irony of it all.
These dismissive comments, this casual disregard for his station, this crushing, undeniable weight of inferiority—it was all madly eating away at Corbin's mind.
He wanted to curse them, to scream, but every time he tried to draw a breath to speak, his lungs seized, and he hacked up more blood and bile.
Orion smiled at the sight, his voice suddenly booming with newfound power, resonating with a trace of Aether, ensuring the cloaked media drones hovering at the edge of the platform captured every single word.
"Well then. This has been an enlightening experience, hasn't it? Now, like I said before, take your trash and get the fuck out of my Province."
His gaze hardened, the smile vanishing, replaced by the cold finality of a death sentence. "The Directorate, or whatever other fossilized institution wants a meeting, can send whoever they please. But be aware," his voice dropped to a menacing whisper that somehow carried across the continent, "nobody is safe when they provoke me. Or my group."
With his piece said, Orion snapped his fingers.
The Diamond Chain dissolved into motes of glittering light, and the immense, world-ending pressure vanished as if it had never been. Corbin's injuries, however, remained, a screaming, physical testament to his absolute failure.
He didn't dare meet Orion's gaze, his body trembling with a volatile, uncontrollable cocktail of fear, frustration, and a simmering, helpless killing intent. A storm of emotions hurled within him, but he had no way to vent, no path to victory. He was utterly, comprehensively broken.
Without another word, he shakily gestured to the dropship. Medics in full tactical gear rushed out, their faces pale and streaked with sweat, their eyes wide with terror as they meticulously avoided looking at Orion or his companions. They hastily collected the three unconscious, broken privates and loaded them aboard.
Corbin staggered to his feet, clutching his ruined shoulder, and began to board, his gaze about to turn back for one last defiant, hate-filled look.
"Look back," Lyra's voice purred, laced with a deadly, joyous promise, "and I'll tear your eyes out."
Corbin's teeth clicked. "Tch."
Despite his seething, volcanic unwillingness, he didn't dare test her. He simply boarded the dropship, his back to his conquerors. The ramp hissed shut, a final sound of defeat, and the ship ascended into the sky, a silent testament to the absolute, terrifying, and world-shaking shift in power that had just occurred.
When they were gone, a mere speck disappearing into the vast blue, Lisanna let out a bright, unrestrained giggle.
"Well, I guess we're officially on the map now! I'd say our first diplomatic relations with a B-Rank Province went rather well! Although," she added with a mock pout, "I don't think we'll be getting any fruit baskets from the Argent Federation."
Elysia let out a long, weary sigh, though the small, almost imperceptible smirk remained on her lips. "You call that diplomacy? That was a public execution of another province's pride. The Directorate will be in an uproar."
"Good," Lyra snorted, her amusement cold and sharp. "The more they're in an uproar, the more idiots they'll send for me to amuse myself with."
Terra blinked, looking at the ruined, cracked, and cratered platform around them. She shrugged. "Uhm, so... what now?"
Orion chuckled, the sound warm again. He gently caressed her hair, causing her to lean into his touch like a contented cat, the terrifying tension of moments ago completely forgotten.
"Now?" he said softly, his eyes gazing up at the sky where the dropship had vanished. "Now we wait a few days. We need to make sure your families have a firm grip on this Province and that a proper protection force is in place. After that," a small, dangerous smile touched his lips, "we head out of the Province."