Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Hours passed like whispers in windless eternity. From their perch in the upper ether, far above the Wilder mansion's crumbling hush, Sarah and Pandora remained suspended—silent, watchful, two cosmic voyeurs draped in drifting light.

Below, the Four Families dispersed one by one, carried away in convoys of magic and prestige, already reorganizing their internal structures to suit the era Parker had handed them like a burning gift. They spoke of balance, but Sarah knew better. This was survival. Power had shifted, and everyone knew the sky wouldn't hold still.

The rings Robert handed them—clean, silver, glowing faintly with Parker's essence—were keys to the Training Space Tessa had requested and Maya had redistributed. That was Maya's way. Blunt. Impersonal. Generous when it mattered most, even if she crushed your ego under her boot.

And Sarah couldn't lie—she admired that. Maya didn't fake empathy. She didn't do theatrics like Pandora. She simply was.

A woman who had lived too many lives to be swayed by feelings anymore. 'That must be a good trait to have,' Sarah thought bitterly, watching Pandora weep at the mere sight of Parker speaking to a servant.

And the more hours passed, the heavier her purse became. Sarah no longer received "paychecks"—she was compensated in gems.

Pure capitalism wrapped in divine madness. Watching Parker from afar, being dragged around by Pandora, observing families plan for a second age of dominion… and getting rich for it. Honestly? She could do this forever.

Across the globe, Parker's systems were unfolding with terrifying grace. America was calm—for now.

But Prime Earth had only begun to feel the breath of Genesis Energy. In the mirrored planes across the multiverse, resonance began to quake, awakening ancient contracts and forgotten gods. The four families... the supervisors he had assigned kept Earth tethered while other versions of reality adjusted to the awakening's rhythm.

Somewhere in the shifting fog of timelines, Cassandra made her quiet way back to his palace, while Chione's wintry presence still veiled the movements of Earth's future defenders. Even the heroes had not yet risen. Still sleeping. Still silent.

Inside the palace, stability reigned. Noctavine watched from the edge of her room, a crown of observation resting lightly on her head. Parker's crafted kin—creatures of chaos, of order, of divine madness—lived in a kind of eternal luxury. There were no responsibilities left for them. No burdens. Just power, resources, Omni Energy to feed on, and a sky without ceilings.

The statues remained dormant. His beasts—save Ere and Levi—still slumbered in layered time. Yet they were there. Ready.

Always ready.

In Olympus, war drums had already begun to hum beneath the soil. The Blessed, now his chosen army reborn through divinity of Olympus and now his own, stood at the gates of myth in Olympus, led by the Shadow Bearer himself, waiting for the call. Waiting for Parker to walk into godland and unmake it with a whisper. Meanwhile, in quieter corners, his lovers—Claire and Alina—carried his children, their secret guarded by the strongest women in his empire.

Cassidy, Ava, Callista, and Noctavine ensured that silence. Not even whispers escaped.

Callista, Seoryeon and Cassidy, brilliant and calculating, had already begun the empire's real-world foundation. In Delaware, construction had begun on the base of what would become the most magnificent building ever created—a city unto itself. And now, with Seoryeon and the Sophiscated bringing trillions in invisible hands, the process moved at lightning speed. Parker didn't want to conjure it with magic.

He wanted to watch it rise. Slowly. Beautifully. Like watching humanity build its own divine cathedral, brick by brick. Of course. The man who could bend galaxies wanted to feel the mortal texture of patience.

And then there was Nyxavere.

No one could see her. Not anymore.

Even the gods had lost sight of Earth. The Olympians were blind, locked out of a world shifting beyond their understanding. Parker had severed their sight, their influence. Olympus was next. He'd already told them that—through action, if not words.

But beneath all this—beneath the beauty and control, beneath the order and celebration—chaos brewed. Unwatched. Unchecked.

In Korea, Daegon's dark theater played out on stages no one had reached. With the Dark Pantheon unobserved, their shadows slithered across borders, infecting minds, infesting souls.

The Heaven Eater Bird, sealed and monstrous, now stood at the edge of being used to create something dangerous—a weapon of such apocalyptic scale that even divine defenses might break under its scream. Daegon, once guardian, now corrupted, was planting seeds in mortals by the thousands.

Sins were no longer an idea. It was a system. And Korea was its cradle.

Vivian had gone there. Perhaps chasing fate.

And with her, beginning and end—the twin forces of Beginning and Nihility—waited like twin mouths at the edge of Earth's throat.

Would Korea be the next battlefield?

What about Hwanung? Seoryeon? The once-glorious names now caught in myth-turned-warfare?

Daegon had no interest in loyalty—not to gods, not to the Dark Pantheon. He wasn't their servant. He was their warning. But would they let him rise? Would they allow the corrupted guardian to walk freely through history, rewriting its purpose against their own plans and let him backstab them?

No. They wouldn't.

And the moment that war ignited, it would spread faster than Parker could blink.

Doctor Voss, hidden and maniacal, continued his experiments unchecked—creating the Harbingers, dark echoes of human sin, powered by the blood of the Heaven Eater itself. Dark Harbingers. Beings the gods would one day fear. And they were already being born. Quietly. One after another.

The question wasn't if Earth would survive.

It was what price it would pay for salvation.

And whether the humans—so freshly awakened, so newly blessed—were strong enough to carry that weight.

Or if Parker would have to carry it for them. Again.

****

Going back home wasn't supposed to be this mind-bending. Parker had walked through endless realms, tangled with gods and cosmic horrors, but nothing—not even omnipotents could survive surprises.

The air at the palace entrance crackled with an energy so potent it surpassed even his wildest expectations.

Waiting there, like a vision summoned from the depths of myth and destiny, was Cassandra—the seer, the cursed princess of Troy, a woman whose very existence bent fate's rules. She wasn't just anyone; she was one of the most distinguished females in all mythology, and her presence alone demanded awe.

Right beside her stood Cleopatra—both famous and infamous in equal measure, a queen whose name whispered through history like a dark promise. The moment Maya and Tessa saw her, their faces shifted instantly. Subtle sparks of rivalry flared in their eyes, a silent war reigniting over old wounds. This wasn't just a reunion—it was a battlefield of queens.

Because the three of them? They'd danced this dance before. The question had always been the same: who was the real woman of Parker Black? And the crown had settled on Tessa. She'd won that war of hearts, and it had been messy, chaotic, and everything Parker secretly missed.

The reckless, untethered Parker Black of then—the one who wore passion and infinity money like armor and chaos like a crown.