“Kern, you’ve lost your damn mind! You’re assaulting an officer—gonna blow us all to hell? You know what kind of crime that is?” One of Orren’s bootlickers roared, trying to intimidate Kern with a desperate shout.

  But Kern’s eyes were cold as void-forged steel.

  “You assholes want me dead anyway. Might as well take you all with me.”

  Maybe Kern once had a bright future, but in Cassidia Sector, scum like Orren could crush him into the abyss with a flick. That’s why the other lackeys kissed Orren’s boots so hard. Sure, Orren was just a lowlife enforcer, Spark-1 combat rating, but his power was godlike here.

  Kern, a hot-blooded, prideful punk, couldn’t stomach this humiliation. He was ready to go out in a blaze. That scared the shit out of Kyle and the others, some scrambling to tackle Kern. But these trainee scrubs were no match for Kern’s raw skill. They couldn’t stop him.

  Kern stalked toward Orren, step by menacing step.

  Orren, though, stood calm as a frozen datacore, his face unreadable.

  “Chill the fuck out, Kern. Drop the grenade. Don’t do something stupid.” He spoke evenly, voice steady in the tense air.

  “What, now you’re scared, you bastard?” Kern sneered, his face twisting into a savage grin.

  “No matter how much richer you are, we’ve all got one life. When you fuck people over, you’d better think about days like this.” Kern sounded like some damn philosopher, all righteous fury.

  His finger twitched toward the grenade’s pin, ready to martyr himself.

  But in a blink, a shadowy blur streaked across the room. Orren’s towering frame crossed meters in an instant, snatching the grenade from Kern’s grip. That was Shadow Weave, Orren’s new skill, juiced up with a quick Overclock. He’d burned 30 Neural Data points to crank it to Level 5, making him a goddamn phantom.

  “You…” Kern’s pupils shrank, his face ashen. He hadn’t clocked Orren’s power spiking this hard.

  What the hell kind of skill was that? It was like a ghost had slipped right up to him.

  He didn’t even react before his last card was gone. Despair washed over his face. Now, he didn’t need Orren framing him—he’d already committed assault.

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  To make sure Kern had no more tricks, Orren slammed him to the ground, pinning his chest with a heavy knee.

  “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Kern roared, thrashing uselessly under Orren’s weight.

  Orren shook his head. “Told you to chill, dumbass. It’s not what you think. That idiot was just screwing around.”

  “Screwing around?” Kern gaped, disbelief warring with shock.

  It wasn’t just Orren’s words—it was his sheer power that broke him. Kern always thought he had a golden future, that his talent would carry him to Starblade warrior status. Orren? Just a petty enforcer, a nobody. Even when cornered, Kern figured he could take Orren down with him.

  Hell, he had a backup—a Neural Chip cloning trick that’d let him rebuild his body if he died. But his hotheaded plan to teach Orren a “life lesson” was a joke. Reality hit: he didn’t even have the juice to die with Orren.

  And Orren’s strength? It was fucking unreal.

  Normally, a low-talent scrub’s Neural Chip can’t handle high-tier skills—some can’t even load one. But Orren was rocking at least two: that slick swordplay earlier and now this speed skill. Both were stupidly strong, way beyond Kern’s expectations.

  Was this bastard Starblade material too? Kern’s pride—his dream of becoming a Starblade—suddenly felt shaky.

  “Kyle, grab Kern’s lease papers.” Orren barked, still pinning Kern.

  “Uh? Oh, shit, right away, boss!” Kyle snapped out of his daze, rummaging frantically before handing over a stack of docs.

  Orren snatched them and tossed them to Kern. “Here. It’s yours. Remember when I took 50,000 credits from you? Used it to sort this out. Consider it a gift, asshole.”

  Orren grinned, inwardly patting himself on the back. Damn, he was a genius for that excuse.

  “A… gift?” Kern caught the papers, his brain blue-screening.

  Moments ago, Orren could’ve buried him with a single word, turned him into a slum vagrant. In that hellhole, even with his skills, Kern wasn’t sure he’d survive until the Starblade test. And if Orren framed him, there’d be no end to the follow-up screws. In the slums, an enforcer like Orren had a thousand ways to make him vanish quietly. Even his cloning trick wouldn’t save him from that.

  That’s why Kern was ready to blow them all up—not just hot blood, but cold calculation.

  Now? Orren’s move left him dumbfounded. All his plans, his rage, his bravado—it was all a fucking farce. He’d misread everything.

  Kern’s face twisted—confusion, shame, and something else. He was lost for words.

  “What’re you standing there for? Go finalize the lease, dipshit.” Orren slapped the grenade back into Kern’s hand.

  “Officer Bran… you’ve really changed.” Kern took a deep breath, a weird spark in his chest, his steps lighter as he left.

  As Kern bolted, Kyle and the others swarmed Orren.

  “Boss, you okay?”

  “What the hell could be wrong with me?”

  “But, sir, that land was a deal with the Void Kraken! You gave Kern the deed—how’re we gonna square that with that damn octopus bug?” Kyle’s face crumpled, whining like a kicked dog.

  “Another fucking bug?” Orren’s gut twisted. Shit, these void freaks were everywhere.

  The Void Kraken, another void-spawned monstrosity, wasn’t like the usual bugs. It looked like a cybernetic octopus, sharp as a datacore, and obsessed with credits and property. Its combat power? Off the damn charts.