Holographic projectors flickered to life across the city's upper districts. A translucent stage formed midair, crisp and controlled, holding back the chaos brewing in the streets below. Reporters manifested as a grid of floating panels—a wall of faces and overlapping audio feeds.
"Is Lord Valer confirmed dead?" "Who is responsible?" "Will the Spero family retaliate?" "Is Lady Lyra safe?"
The questions hit like shrapnel.
Orion stepped into the projection, dressed in a charcoal suit. Not mourning black. Grief acknowledged, weakness denied. Elara stood a half-step behind him, framed by faint security icons. Orion held his silence until the feeds quieted, forced to wait.
"This morning, the Spero family confirmed the assassination of Lord Valer Spero."
The grid erupted again. "Who did it?" "POND retaliation?" "Is this political?"
Orion raised a hand, automatically muting a dozen feeds. "We are investigating. We will not speculate publicly. Until further notice, I serve as acting Head of the Spero family."
More shouts followed. Too young—Experience—Temporary?
"Our priority is stability," Orion cut in smoothly.
"Lord Spero criticized POND hours before his death. Is there a connection?" a sharp voice demanded.
The feeds went dead silent.
Orion held the pause. "We have requested assistance from POND. CEO Adrienne Vale has confirmed they will provide protection for the Spero estate. Security protocols are elevated. That is all."
"Where is Lady Rowena Spero?" a lone voice pierced the quiet. "Is she dead as well?"
For a fraction of a second, Orion's composure fractured. Barely visible, but enough. The silence stretched thin. Elara glanced at him.
He stepped back. "This conference is over."
The feeds blinked out.
—
The Spero Estate gates parted just enough to let a convoy of matte-black transports roll onto the polished stone courtyard. Above, drones traced slow, sweeping arcs, syncing with the estate's security grid. The air felt heavy. Watching.
Orion waited at the entrance, hands clasped behind his back, Elara at his side.
Doors slid open. Captain Halden stepped out, her posture rigid, the POND insignia sharp against her collar. Commander Varrus followed, broad-shouldered and graying, his presence instantly anchoring the courtyard.
Behind them came the academy squads. Jax, metallic arms gleaming; Darian, quiet and observant; Zeri, scanning the architecture; Ravion, measuring the perimeter. Children in tactical gear.
"Captain Halden. Commander Varrus," Orion said, nodding. "You arrived quickly."
"Speed was necessary," Varrus replied.
Orion's gaze drifted over the squads. "You brought children."
"They are trained monster hunters," Halden corrected smoothly.
"And if they die here?"
"Then they die protecting civilians," Varrus said flatly.
Orion's jaw tightened. "That is not comforting."
"It isn't meant to be." Varrus paused. "We are aware of the bounty on Lady Lyra."
"We ask that you investigate it," Orion said.
"Already handled. A team is deep in the undercity," Varrus countered. "Our objective here is to seal the estate and guard Lady Lyra. For as long as the threat remains."
Orion nodded slowly. "Then the estate will cooperate fully."
Varrus turned. "Begin deployment."
The courtyard erupted into motion. Students broke into squads, drones elevated, and the perimeter shields snapped online.
—
The estate locked down.
POND guards rotated through corridors and balconies, running scanners over doorframes while drones drifted past stained glass. In the gardens, Zeri trailed Halden, calibrating perimeter sensors between the manicured hedges.
Far below in the fog-choked, neon-lit undercity, Ravion's squad stalked past rusted pipes and skeletal transit rails, hunting the bounty's source.
Up on an estate balcony, Darian leaned against the stone railing, watching the floodlights sweep the grounds.
Heavy footsteps approached. A massive POND cadet with faint, buffalo-like features stopped beside him.
"Yo," the guy said.
Darian glanced over. "Yo."
The guy squinted, practically vibrating. "Wait. You're Darian Veynar. The Hero Guy."
Darian blinked. "Uh... yeah."
"HA!" The giant slammed a fist into his palm. "Boro knew it! Boro, Squad Twelve. Massive fan." He shoved his hand out. "Boro watches all your fights."
Darian shook it slowly. "You do?"
"Yes! Triple-jaw monster? Punched it in the face! Insane. Boro screamed in the cafeteria. Threw food."
"...You screamed?"
"Loudly. Then the tower fell! Thought you died, but you walked out! Boro broke a table cheering."
"I slipped."
"Even better! Hero slips and survives. Skill!" Boro pointed at him like he'd cracked a code. "Convoy ambush? Boro got cleanup duty. Wreckage everywhere. 'Darian did this,' they said. Boro was proud."
Darian let out a slow breath.
"Same age, same academy, already a hero," Boro barreled on. "POND shows your clips before training. Gets us pumped. Boro headbutted a locker once out of sheer excitement."
"...Right."
"Ashgrave! Instructor said zero survival odds. But you lived. Insane." Boro leaned in, lowering his voice to a booming whisper. "You look cooler in person. More heroic. And the coat? Boro wants a dramatic coat."
Darian rubbed his temple.
"And the way you walk—" Boro took a step, stumbled, then caught himself. "See? Hero walk. Boro is practicing."
"I don't think—"
"Boro will get strong too," he declared, eyes blazing with terrifying loyalty. "Then Boro helps you. You point, Boro charges."
Darian sighed, staring out over the floodlit courtyard as Boro continued to yap, his words tumbling into the night like an unstoppable avalanche.