Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Maya didn't flinch as the others hit the ground behind her. She stood with her hands in the pockets of her suit, jaw tilted slightly up, her dark eyes narrowed—not in fear, but in irritation. She looked up at Judgement, her gaze cutting through the marble veil like she was tired of being tested.

"Oh please, Judgment" she said, voice sharp and low like a knife being drawn in velvet. "Control yourself."

It wasn't a shout.

It wasn't even a command.

It was a statement—like she was correcting a child throwing a tantrum in public.

The pressure vanished.

Just like that.

Gone.

The divine weight, the soul-shattering gravity, the heart-pounding silence—it all evaporated into the evening air like steam, leaving behind only the hum of the estate's lights and the sound of the wind brushing over the trees again. Above, the statue of Judgement remained still. But if marble could look offended, she would have.

And yet—she obeyed.

A soft drop of sweat rolled down Evelyn's temple. She didn't wipe it. Just smiled. One of those closed-lipped, tired smiles that said "of course Maya would do that."

Behind her, Anastasia was staring at the massive wolf statue positioned just beyond in the compound—a beast carved into mid-howl, its snarl frozen forever in stone. She stared at it, then exhaled slowly, her hands still trembling.

She smiled too.

Not from relief.

From understanding.

They'd been judged.

And they all knew it.

The estate hadn't just welcomed them—it had tested them. Weighed them.

Some had passed.

Others… barely.

"Let's go," Maya said over her shoulder, already starting toward the steps that led to the grand entrance. Her heels clicked with cold certainty. "Honey's waiting."

Evelyn followed her with ease, her now long white hair swaying behind her like silk caught in slow wind. She walked like she'd been here before, like the estate was familiar even if it wasn't. Behind her came Helena, her movements fluid and elegant, her black dress clinging to her like oil wrapping a blade. She didn't speak, didn't blink—just followed.

Then there was Vivian.

Unbothered.

Barely awake.

She stretched her arms like she'd just crawled out of bed. Her walk had a lazy sway, almost disrespectful, like she couldn't be fucked to care. She looked around with sleepy eyes, as if saying, "Cool place. When's dinner?" But even she didn't say a word. Not now.

Last came Annabelle.

She was still shaking. Just slightly. But to her credit, she walked. She walked with wide eyes, pulse echoing in her ears, her gaze flicking left and right at the others around her—she wasn't the only one still rattled. Behind them, across the driveway, the rest of the kneeling crowd slowly rose.

Shoulders stiff. Mouths dry. Eyes unfocused.

Judgement hadn't touched them physically.

But they had felt her.

They had been seen.

And as they stood, hearts pounding, legs weak, they all knew the truth.

They'd been judged.

*

The estate had settled into its twilight hush. Crickets whispered in the woods, the wind carried the scent of rain that hadn't yet fallen, and the world itself seemed to bend—just slightly—as more arrived. rhythmic and persistent, like the pulse of a hidden world untouched by time. It was peaceful—but not the fragile kind. It was the calm of a place that knew its power.

The entrance gates stood wide now, having opened moments ago without so much as a screech. As if they'd been summoned—not by command, but by recognition. Sleek, obsidian cars with smooth chrome accents had rolled through with weight and elegance, headlights cutting faint halos through the falling dark. The cars weren't just vehicles. They were declarations—of presence, of rank, of legacy. Each car bore no license plate, only the silver-etched mark:

PRINCE NYXLITH.

From one of the quieter cars toward the rear, a door opened with a gentle click, and a figure emerged—Zhang Ruoyun. She was one of the few who hadn't stepped out of the car or touched by Judgement's pressure.

She stepped out with a fluid grace that seemed unaffected by gravity, silver hair cascading down her back like a frozen waterfall. Her face was partially veiled by a blackened silver mask, ornate and sinister in detail, sharp at the edges like it had once been a blade. Above her brow rested a distinct mark—a yin-yang symbol inked in living black and white, faintly glowing under the twilight like an oath not easily broken.She wore layered robes of deep black, embroidered with celestial violet constellations that shimmered when the wind passed them, as though stars were trapped in her fabric and still trying to breathe.

Her violet eyes glinted beneath the mask, sharp, unreadable, and far too calm for someone who had just arrived at the estate of a legend.

In another car behind hers the door opened and time seemed to hesitate.

The woman—no, it was girl in her very early teens— that stepped out couldn't be described. Not fully. She was tall for her age, elegant in a way that didn't belong to this era—or maybe to this dimension. Her body moved with fluidity too precise to be human, and her presence didn't just command the eye, it dominated the atmosphere. Her hair wasn't a color. It was an endless shifting tapestry, constantly shifting through shades no one had ever named, as if the universe had dipped a brush into realms no soul had seen and painted her into reality.

Even her silence felt sacred.

She didn't smile. She didn't blink. She simply walked forward, and reality did its best to keep up with her.

Before anyone could speak or approach, something shifted.

No wind. No whisper.

Just sudden presence.

Parker was there.

He hadn't walked. He hadn't descended some staircase in dramatic fashion. One second he was nowhere. The next, he stood before her.

He moved with such terrifying speed that even among gods and monsters here—most hadn't seen it. Not even a blur. Just the heavy truth that he was suddenly standing in front of her, eyes wide, breath sharp, body still like it had found its home again.

Then girl was in his arms.

There was no hesitation, no grace lost—only gravity. Like they had been magnetized to each other since time forgot their names.

Parker's hands wrapped around her, one against the back of her head, pulling her into him like he'd spent a lifetime searching through shadows just to find this one light. And then, for the first time—possibly in his entire existence on this mundane earth—his voice softened into something human.

"Nyxavere…"

The name didn't echo.

It settled.

It sank deep into the night, into the stone of the estate, into the soil itself.

Her arms locked around him in return, trembling, delicate fingers clutching the back of his shirt. Her eyes brimmed with tears—not showy, not dramatic. Just real. Unfiltered. Then, in a voice so small it cracked against his chest, she whispered with trembling warmth:

"Daddy~"

In that moment, they vanished.

No burst of magic. No light. No dramatic swirl.

Just gone.

Like the universe itself had folded a page, and they were no longer part of the story being told.

Down the driveway, Maya had been mid-stride, hands on her sides, walking with that sharp swing of a woman who feared nothing and tolerated less.

She paused.

Blinked.

Then sighed—long and exaggerated, throwing her head back just slightly. "Welp," she muttered, "apparently my man loves his daughter more than he loves the mother of his daughter."

It wasn't bitter. Not exactly. But it was very Maya—a mix of wounded pride, sarcasm, and the tiny smirk of someone who'd seen it coming.

Beside her, Evelyn's mother gently tapped her shoulder, a quiet smile brushing her lips.

"Been there," she said softly, and Maya didn't respond, but the smirk deepened just slightly.

"I am there," she murmured under her breath.

Zhang Ruoyun stood silently at the back, her violet eyes still fixed on the space Parker had disappeared from. She didn't speak, didn't blink. Her expression remained unreadable, perfect, composed. But inside?

There was a hollow ache.

She hadn't expected anything, but somehow… she'd felt it all the same. Ignored. Not just overlooked—completely unseen. As if the part of him that once paused for her… no longer remembered how.

She didn't say a word.

But her fingers trembled slightly.

And then, a hand slipped into hers.

Old, warm, delicate. Her grandmother, silent but smiling with something deeper than words.

Zhang Ruoyun closed her eyes and let the ache pass—quietly.

The crowd began to move again, walking toward the glowing mansion that waited like a temple caught in twilight. The statues around them loomed with reverence. The air buzzed again—less pressure now, more anticipation.

This wasn't just an arrival.

It was a gathering.

Robert Blackwood, cold and composed, walked alongside Julian, the two of them dressed sharp enough to cut stone, their expressions unreadable. Others were the rest of the Origin Families, dressed in silence and shadow, stepping forward like ancient monarchs answering a call they couldn't refuse.

Tonight wasn't a ceremony.

It was a convergence.

A shifting of power.

And the world would never be the same after this walk ended.