Chapter 327: Chapter 327

The Crownless Kings almost never got called to stand in front of the Primark himself. When they did, it usually meant something catastrophic was about to happen or they would be doing something catastrophic. Their unit had a reputation for solving the Legion’s worst disasters before they started. But this was different, they had been called back from the field by the Primark himself. Sixteen killers stood in a loose half-circle around The Primark’s desk, still wearing the dust and grime of whatever lunacy they had been wrestling an hour earlier. No one complained. If the Primark summoned you directly, you shut your mouth and listened.

Tarrin scratched his jaw as he eyed the sealed mission packet. "Sir, this says we’re to be supporting our sister squadron."

The Primark nodded once.

Rhaas blinked slow, confused. "We don’t have a sister squadron. Never did."

"Correct," Kurtis added in a flat tone, as if observing weather. "This is a statistically improbable oversight."

The Primark pushed the file closer. "You do now."

A ripple of unease and curiosity passed through them. The Kings rarely experienced surprises, let alone ones that came from the Primark himself. Sixteen killers leaning in felt like tectonic plates shifting.

Mirelle leaned over Tarrin’s shoulder, squinting. "Class One of the Ninety-First… ‘the Complaints Department’…?"

A moment of silence stretched, heavy and perplexed.

Fey whispered, "That’s a real squad name? Not a punishment detail?"

The Primark didn’t smile. If anything, he looked tired. "They are making it so that the actual complaints department is getting flooded with messages from pissed of House representatives. So, sadly yes, it is a real name."

The mission holo flickered to life, and every King leaned forward, shadows sharpening across their faces.

The Primark had trimmed everything but the violence from the duel at High Commander Ruka’s little dinner party.

It was not a fight. It was not even close. It was a systematic dismantling of a squad that had humiliated dozens of rising High Imperators and sent more than a few home weeping.

The holo opened with Vaeliyan moving before the fight had even really begun.

One step, and pressure locked Rutger Asano mid‑motion, freezing his body in place before his brain could catch up. Vaeliyan’s fist met his face with the weight of a collapsing star. Rutger’s skull and upper spine separated in a single, wet explosion, his head left hanging by scraps of flesh as his body dropped like a cut puppet.

The holo had nothing important trimmed from it’s content. The Kings watched every second.

An Asano High Imperator threw her hands forward and dragged power from her Soul Skill. A jagged wall of glittering ice erupted between them, thick enough to shrug off artillery fire.

Vaeliyan’s punch hit the ice.

The wall did not crack. It ripped free from the floor and launched backward like a fired shell, carrying her with it. Her body folded around the ice as it slammed into her chest, ribs snapping under the impact. She slid until the barrier shattered against the far end of the hall.

Later, when she tried to push herself up, Vaeliyan ended her with a single, casual stomp that crushed her skull against the polished floor.

Another Asano, stone swelling around his fist like a gauntlet, swung with enough force to crater armor. His punch hit only marble. The floor exploded beneath him as Vaeliyan simply was not there anymore.

He reappeared behind the man and drove an elbow into the back of his skull, dazing him. Before gravity could claim him, Vaeliyan seized his ankle, spun, and hurled him into the teammate trying to flank. Both went down in a tangled heap of limbs and pain.

From there, it only got worse.

He moved through them like he already knew the choreography of the fight. Every strike they threw hit empty space. Every counter he delivered broke something important. He stepped where they did not expect, hit where they could not guard, and never once raised a guard of his own.

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Then the holo caught the moment that made several of the Kings lean closer.

Vaeliyan bent over the corpse of the woman who’s skull he had just crushed, grabbed her mangled hand, and tore the High Imperator’s arm free in a single wrench, bone and tendon giving way under his grip. He slung the severed limb like a club as one of the three remaining Asanos committed everything to a final rush, being handed a stone pillar by the one in the stone armor, the tip sharpening into a spear meant to punch straight through Vaeliyan’s skull.

Then something strange happened.

For a heartbeat, the holo showed Vaeliyan taking the strike clean through the face, head coming apart into dust as his body collapsed.

Then in the same moment the feed snapped to the real Vaeliyan stepping to the side of the attack using his own collapsing form to flank his attacker, very much alive.

He swung the severed arm.

Meat and bone met jaw with catastrophic force. The limb detonated on impact, half the Asano’s face shredding into airborne viscera that rained across nobles, glassware, and polished stone alike.

By the time the last Asano still capable of standing layered stone, obsidian, coal, and diamond over his arm for a final, desperate punch, the Kings already knew the outcome. Vaeliyan let him have his one clean hit. The diamond‑plated fist drove into his chest with enough power to erase a mountain.

Vaeliyan did not move.

The room behind him detonated. Marble, wood, and crystal vaporized in a straight line as the redirected force tore through the room, turning the dining setup into smoking debris while Vaeliyan stood untouched in the center of the devastation.

The holo ended with Vaeliyan standing amid the wreckage, blood dripping off of him, Ruka visible in the background with a faint, flicker of fear that came from thinking you understood something until it showed you otherwise.

Mirelle let out a long, low whistle. "Well. That was spectacular."

"Isn’t that High Commanders Ruka’s favorite squad?" Tarrin said. His voice cracked. "The ones she uses to test new High Imperators."

Vorran coughed. "Correction. It was her favorite squad. They look very dead now."

Fey’s eyes gleamed. "And that kid must have beaten the heir of my House for command, too. Elian, My nephew. Blow for blow, is one of the strongest fighters I’ve ever seen for his stage."

A ripple of collective, startled respect moved through the Kings. It was rare enough meeting someone who could fight Elian to a standstill. Someone who had actually managed to beat him? That was practically unheard of. Elian wasn’t just strong for his stage; he was a prodigy of violence. He had the best training credits could buy, was born into a House that groomed monsters, and wielded one of the strongest Soul Skills they had ever seen in a cadet. He had been thrown against higher tier opponents since he first got his chip, and he almost never lost unless the person facing him outclassed him by at least two full stages.

Mira crossed her arms, jaw tight. "I heard rumors from back home. They say this Vaeliyan has no honor, steals fragments from the Houses they belong to."

The Primark cut her off calmly. " Yes. There was a report on an incident like that. But during this duel, he issued a legitimate challenge which the Asano accepted. The fragments were wagered fairly."

"It is still disrespectful," she muttered.

Before another debate could spark, Orrin squinted at the next holo frame. He leaned closer, brow pinching. "Is that actually… Fenn? Holy fuckin shit it is him!"

Everyone turned to him.

Tarrin blinked. "You know that kid?"

Orrin sighed like someone who regretted waking up that morning. "My little brother. That little shit didn’t tell me he made High Imperator."

Eron stared at him. "You have a little brother?"

"Half-brother," Orrin corrected, rubbing his face. "Dad knocked up someone new while Mom’s corpse was still cooling. Hate my father, but Fenn was just a baby. Dad actually likes the little shit, so I don’t bad-mouth him around Fenn. They get along. And yeah, the age gap is massive. I’m basically his uncle."

The Kings processed this revelation in stunned, communal silence.

Calix finally said, "We are going to have a very long conversation with your father when we get back."

"Please don’t," Orrin muttered.

Tarrin closed the file with a heavy thump and looked at The Primark. "Alright, old man. Why are we being sent? You never send us unless you expect casualties. Or legends."

The Primark pointed at the name stamped across the top.

"Vaeliyan," The Primark said, "beat my younger self. In the ninth layer sim. Cleanly."

Tarrin’s eyebrows shot up. "He did what?"

"That is a feat not even you managed." The Primark added dryly.

The squad groaned in unison.

Rene slapped Tarrin’s back hard. "Ouch."

Fey’s grin sharpened. "Well. I’m excited now."

Rene cracked her knuckles. "Same. Anyone who can trick an Asano into accepting a fragment wager is either suicidal or brilliant. I want to see which."

Barcus folded his arms. "You’ll support them in the coming siege. You will not take command unless requested. You will not test them. And you will not antagonize Vaeliyan."

Sixteen sets of eyes locked onto him.

Tarrin cleared his throat. "Sir… is that because he’s dangerous?"

"No," Barcus said. "It’s because he was just over level forty in that fight."

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Sixteen grins spread.

Tarrin shut the file. "We accept this mission."

The Primark nodded once and saluted them.

The Kings straightened and him saluted.

The greatest monsters the Red Citadel had produced before the Complaints Department marched out, eager, insulted, impressed, and more than a little thrilled.

For the first time in decades, the Crownless Kings had a reason to be excited.

Their sister squadron’s leader had beaten the Primark.

Their sister squadron’s leader had killed an Asano team.

Their sister squadron’s leader had rewritten expectations.

They moved to deploy.

And every single one of them was smiling.

They could not wait to meet Vaeliyan Verdance.

They could not wait to meet their sister squadron.

And, for the first time in decades, they wondered if there was someone out there even more monstrous than them.