#### Third Person
**Roughly 40,000 feet above the North Atlantic**
**Meeting Room**
The Helicarrier was a technological sovereign nation in the sky, a testament to human ambition forged in steel and powered by roaring turbines. From this altitude, the world was a placid blue marble, its conflicts and borders invisible. But inside the vessel's heart, conflict was the only subject on the table.
The meeting room was a fortress within a fortress. The air was sterile, chilled to a precise temperature, and carried the faint, electric hum of advanced technology. The walls, a seamless alloy of composites, were embedded with shimmering energy fields. Outside the reinforced door, the corridor was a gauntlet of the world's most elite sentinents—hulking mutants in tactical gear, hunters whose eyes gleamed with preternatural focus, and magicians whose very presence warped the air around them. They were armed to the teeth, a silent, lethal guarantee that the conversation within would not be interrupted.
Twenty figures sat around a circular table of black obsidian, their reflections warped in its polished surface. They were the architects of the modern world, presidents, prime ministers, and titans of industry, each radiating an aura of accustomed power. The silence in the room was heavy, a shared weight of unspoken anxieties.
"So, Mr. Fury, I think everyone is here. We can start." The voice belonged to an impeccably dressed German chancellor, her tone calm but edged with an impatience that cut through the quiet.
Nick Fury, the one-eyed Director of this global coalition, simply grunted in response. His gaze swept across the room, a silent roll call. He gave a curt gesture to the woman standing beside him. "Hm. Jill, start with the briefing."
"Yes, Director," Agent Jill replied, her voice crisp. With a tap on her console, the air above the table came alive. A dozen holographic screens flickered to life—muted news broadcasts, data streams, satellite imagery—all rotating in a silent, chaotic ballet. "Today, we have three emergencies." She let the screens spin for a moment, allowing the gravity of the assembled information to sink in before pointing a slender finger at the central, largest projection.
It was a blurred, enhanced image of a man's face, indistinct but undeniably imposing.
"First, this entity," Jill began. "Mutant, Hunter, Human, Magician, or Supernatural. Nothing is confirmed. What is confirmed is that he is an Ex-level threat, but only if we interfere with his life or cross his path." As she spoke, the screens on the table synced, displaying dossier excerpts for each leader. They leaned in, their expressions unreadable as they silently scanned the intelligence. The implications were staggering. A being of such power that his threat level was conditional, defined entirely by their own actions.
"His power is beyond our understanding and control," Jill continued, her voice unwavering. "Our most powerful trackers, telepaths, our best technology, even magic and mutants, have failed to locate him. He is a ghost."
"So it's a lost case." The observation came from an elderly empress, her voice devoid of emotion, as if she were measuring the depth of a cold sea. Other leaders shifted in their seats, their own thoughts churning behind carefully composed masks.
"No," Fury cut in, his voice a low rumble. "We have now understood a few things." He gestured again, and Jill nodded, ready for the next piece of the puzzle.
"And what is that?" a female leader from the South American bloc pressed, her interest sharp. From Fury's previous statement, finding anything should have been impossible.
"A certainty. An assurance. A surety." Fury let the words hang, creating a void of suspense that made the room feel smaller.
"Be specific, Mr. Fury," a man from the Middle East snapped, his patience worn thin by the dramatic build-up.
A rare, grim smile touched Fury's lips. "We have a honeypot in place. The son of a bitch's weakness is women. We have a dozen of our best extracting information and slowly manipulating him. And we've learned he runs dozens of orphanages and guilds across the world. Fully legal, non-profit organizations."
The revelation landed like a bomb. A murmur rippled through the leaders, a wave of muttered whispers and sharp intakes of breath. They leaned back, processing the sheer audacity of it. A god-like figure playing philanthropist.
"Interesting…" the German chancellor mused, her fingers steepled. "But is he planning or scheming anything destructive against us? Short or long term?" The question perked up the ears of everyone in the room. A being of limitless power, walking unchecked, was a nightmare scenario. Especially one operating organizations on their own sovereign soil, leaving them powerless to retaliate.
"No," Fury said, his voice hardening, silencing the whispers. "It's only been a few weeks. He meets with one of our assets once a week. And as I've said, we cannot do anything that would compromise the operation." The warning was clear: their impatience could blow the entire mission.
"Were you able to acquire his DNA? Anything to track him?" a middle-aged woman asked, her tone persuasive, her eyes keen.
"No, ma'am," Fury replied, the rejection absolute. "He's cautious. Getting anything of value from him will take time."
A collective "Hmm" of reluctant agreement filled the room. For now, the thread known as the Administrator was a tough nut to crack, but they had a wrench in place.
"I've heard from my informant," a new voice spoke, dripping with insinuation, "that Silver Sable, the S-rank hunter princess of Symkaria, is involved with him. Physically."
Every head turned toward the woman in question. Silver Sable, clad in a tailored grey tactical suit, didn't flinch. Her eyes, cold as steel, locked onto the speaker. "Those are rumors. Blatant, unsubstantiated gossip. I have no official relation with him." Her rebuttal was a shard of ice.
"I see, my apologies. I shouldn't have stated that without evidence," the leader stammered, instantly cowed. Sable caught the flicker of fear in her eyes, a silent victory that no one else in the room seemed to notice.
"Please keep the meeting civil and evidence-based," Agent Jill interjected, her frown a clear warning. "We are respected members of this organization."
"Alright," Fury said, moving on. "Next topic: Gates. These supernatural phenomena have done more harm than good. Monster spawns with no certainty or regulation. There is no way to predict when one will appear." The subject shifted, the god-like vigilante momentarily forgotten.
"We've lost billions," Jill stated, pulling up a holographic world map. A red counter ticked relentlessly upward, showing the global population decline. "Although we're recovering, the economy is in shambles. The world is broken."
The discussion continued, spiraling into a vortex of global crises. The tension in the cold room rose steadily, a pressure cooker of fear and power, as the leaders debated the fate of a world they could no longer control.
***
### First Person
**Isshin**
**Royal Supernatural Academy, Training Ground 5**
**Night**
The Secular Island existed outside of conventional maps, a place of raw power accessible only to those who knew the way. At its heart stood the Royal Supernatural Academy, its spires piercing the moonlit sky. Down in Training Ground 5, a massive crater of a clearing, four students stood facing me. The air was cool, smelling of sea salt and latent magic.
*Hic.*
A strange, sudden bout of hiccups. I frowned, pressing a finger to my chest. "Strange…"
"What happened, Instructor Isshin?" a bold, familiar voice taunted. "Did you leave a woman in the middle of a steamy session?" Rias Gremory, the crimson-haired princess, smirked, her voluptuous figure a stark contrast to the deadly power she wielded.
A few of the other students snickered.
I shot her a flat look. "Nah. When you're the strongest, you have a lot on your back. In your case, on your chest." I gestured lazily toward her. "Anyway, start acting like the Princess of Annihilation and you," I nodded to the other devil, "the Heir to the Leviathan. We don't have all day for you to chat. You're up first."
The snickering died instantly. Rias's smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. Her crimson aura flared, the air around her shimmering with the volatile energy of the Power of Destruction. "Have it your way," she seethed.
"Rias, I'll cover you," Akeno Himejima said, a matching grin on her face. A pair of black, leathery wings erupted from her back as she took to the sky, joining two fallen angels who were already circling high above, weaving a complex spell circle of thunder and lightning. "Fine, Akeno."
"Not bad," I murmured, observing their formation. Shinra Kusakabe was a blur of motion, prepping her own attack, while Sona Sitri, Rias's rival Queen, was already chanting, her hands weaving intricate patterns. "Shouldn't you two be on the front line while your Kings do something a little more
Here is the continuation, rewritten to enhance the pacing, detail, and emotional weight of the scene.
***
"Sona, launch the fusion spell, now!" Rias commanded, her voice strained. She poured her will into the orb of crimson energy cupped in her hands, the sphere of Power of Destruction pulsing violently. The mana drain was immense; her face was already slick with sweat, and she knew she couldn't hold it for long.
I watched them, a faint smile touching my lips. They thought this was a game, a rivalry-fueled spat. They were treating a life-or-death lesson like a schoolyard brawl. 'Man, you're doing it all wrong,' I thought. 'Perhaps I need to make things a little more difficult. Real fight, real consequences.'
I didn't move. I didn't even tense a muscle. I just raised my hand and snapped my fingers.
The sound was small, almost lost in the night air, but its effect was absolute. The swirling orb of destruction in Rias's hands flickered, warped, and then vanished like a snuffed candle flame, leaving behind only the scent of ozone.
"Where did the spell go!" Sona shrieked, her chant breaking as she stared at her rival's empty hands.
"Akeno, now!" Shinra yelled from the side, her own attack faltering in shock.
High above, Akeno's grin turned predatory. She saw her opening. "Fool!" she cried, unleashing the full fury of her spell. The sky tore open. A blinding column of yellow lightning, thick as a ancient tree, descended from the thunder circle, engulfing the spot where I stood.
'Lol, was all that stuff just ragebait? If so, then—' I thought, just as the world dissolved into a blinding white flash and a deafening *BOOOM*.
The concussive blast flattened the grass for a hundred meters in every direction and kicked up a cloud of dirt and debris that blotted out the moon. For a long moment, there was only the ringing silence left in the wake of the explosion.
"Did we get him?" Shinra muttered, her voice hushed as she and the others stared at the smoldering crater where their instructor had been.
"The ragebait worked somehow," Sona said, a smug satisfaction in her voice as she surveyed the devastation.
"To be real, he wasn't expecting it," Rias added, though a knot of doubt tightened in her stomach. As the dust began to settle, her heart skipped a beat. The crater was empty.
"Hm," my voice echoed from directly behind her, making her flinch. "True. I wasn't expecting that."
Before she could even process my presence, I moved. It wasn't a violent motion, just a simple, casual kick aimed at the sky. Akeno, still hovering where she had cast her spell, never saw it coming. There was a blur of motion, a solid *THUMP* of impact, and a sharp cry.
"Kya!!" she shouted, tumbling out of the sky like a broken bird and crashing into the treeline a hundred meters away.
The fight was over after that. It lasted less than an hour, but it felt like an eternity to them. One by one, they ran out of magic, then stamina, then will. They were a sweaty, panting heap of torn clothes and bruised egos, lying defeated on the cool grass.
"Man," I admitted, looking down at them, my voice laced with a refreshing honesty. "That was less disappointing compared to the last time I beat your asses." A flicker of satisfaction in my eyes was all the praise they were getting.
One hour later-
"That's not fair!" Rias wheezed, pushing herself up on her elbows. "You were too fast, too strong—"
"Stop bitching and woman up," I cut her off, my tone flat. "We're old enough for that. You have a rating match soon, so you'd better not disappoint me. Or our promise."
The word 'promise' hung in the air, sucking all the warmth from the night. A dire silence fell over the training ground. Rias stared up at me, her crimson eyes burning with a mixture of fury and desperation. I stared back, unblinking. The deal was all that mattered.
"I guess training is over then," I declared, turning to leave. "Class dismissed."
"I will defeat that piece of shit Phoenix clan heir," Rias's voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through the quiet. She had forced herself to her feet, her body trembling but her stance resolute. "Alone. Just remember our deal."
I paused, my back to her. "I will."
And with that, I walked away, leaving the four young women to their exhaustion and their thoughts.