Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

For everyone watching—at least those who remembered—it wasn't just the Omni Energy or the divine weight of Parker and Vivian's presence that made their spines straighten.

It was Zhang Ruoyun.

Those who knew her, truly knew her, remembered what happened when she shifted. When the Yin side of her calmed the storm, only for the Yang to rise like divine wildfire—dominant, unstoppable, absolute. She was standing between two living calamities who could turn entire realities into oblivion with a thought—if they went out.

And she didn't flinch. Not once.

Because she didn't need to.

The Yin-Yang Phoenix may not have been on their level—not quite—but she wasn't far. Whether now or in lifetimes when all of them were at full strength and fully awakened, she would've lasted. She would've stood. She wasn't a fly dodging giants. She was the kind of fighter that made even the gods recheck their math.

Give it a month of endless battle with one of them, and then she might fall.

But even among the titans, there was one exception.

One anomaly.

Nyxavere.

The most spoiled child of all.

Even now, most believed she was the only one here who could end Ruoyun in a day.

Maybe less.

That's what everyone thought.

But Maya—she knew better.

She knew her daughter could do far more than fight gods, immortals, Sovereign, primordials even progenitors would fall. If it ever came to it… Nyxavere could go toe-to-toe with the Whole Mother herself.

And survive.

But even then, there was another. One who never showed her true weight. One who chose to stay in the quiet.

Maya sighed, the sound slipping out like an old prayer. She was used to this. The sibling chaos. The spark that always came before the storms. Parker and Vivian had been like this in every life—at least, until they awakened fully.

That's their flaw before fully awakening. Emotional and easy to snap even at the slightest of something small.

Once they did awaken, they didn't fight.

They ruled.

But thankfully, this time, Zhang Ruoyun had stepped in before things burned past the point of no return.

Still, she could feel it.

Vivian was angry. The kind of quiet, boiling fury that starts melting through the cage of your smile. Her lips curled faintly, and her fingers flexed like they were itching to call down a second sun just to make a point.

But then—

Helena stepped forward.

Her steps made no sound, but her presence silenced the air. Every Origin bloodline here felt it in their bones—the weight of legacy, command, and unshaken maternal power. She stood between and below them as they floated, her voice smooth and echoing like truth dipped in velvet.

"Both of you," she said, gaze calm but piercing, "your mother is watching. And I don't think she'd be pleased to see her children tearing each other apart."

A pause. A flicker of warning.

"Or worse… accidentally erasing one of the Prime Worlds in the process."

The silence that followed was like ice hitting open flame.

Parker raised one brow, letting out a breath that didn't belong to a god, just a brother tired of pointless drama. "For lustful Aphrodite's sake, when do I awaken my magic!" Only then could he control his emotions.

Vivian didn't speak, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if tasting the consequences on her tongue. And then—like it had all been nothing but smoke and shadow—they turned.

Vivian's sleeve flicked with a sharp, elegant wave, and her body drifted backward like a falling petal made of venom and silk.

Parker followed, equally regal, letting his coat flutter behind him with that smooth, quiet arrogance only someone born for thrones could pull off.

In another world, they might've traded blows.

But here?

They retreated.

Two sovereigns, bowing not to each other—but to their mother's name.

Before the air could cool completely, Nyxavere flipped mid-air with a dramatic twirl and floated forward again, arms folded and head tilted like she was about to drop facts written in glitter.

She puffed up her little chest and gave Vivian the deadliest spoiled look imaginable. "Even in your full form, Aunt Vivi," she said with a smug little sniff, "the only ones who could actually fight me are the Whole Mother and Daddy's big sister. And that's only because they're ancient-er than me."

Her voice was pure brat royalty—half threat, half glitter bomb. Her tiara tilted slightly when she said it, but it only made her look more unstoppable.

From the side, Helena sighed like she'd just watched a child snatch the last cookie after winning the argument no one was having. "Of course she'd snatch the win. Nyxavere would never misses a damn opportunity."

Parker didn't even argue.

He just sighed. The kind of deep, soul-weary sigh you only release when you've known someone since the beginning of time and knew they weren't gonna change.

He walked straight over to Vivian, hugged her firmly, and whispered near her ear, "That wasn't necessary. We were both really acting like kids you know."

Vivian didn't return the hug, not immediately. But her hands rose, and she cupped his face in both palms—sharp nails against soft skin, eyes narrowed like a queen checking if her champion still had his spine intact.

"It's good," she said calmly, "that you finally realized your mistake."

And that was so Vivian.

Never a word about her being wrong. Not even a shred of it. Just straight up, "you're welcome, I accept your apology that I didn't ask for."

Parker gave her a look that was somewhere between Really? and Of course. He looked at his daughter and signaled for her. He didn't want his daughter to go astral so soon.

Nyxavere floated lower with a dramatic pout—chin tucked, eyes wide with mock guilt like she was a war criminal learning manners. She bowed lightly in the air, skirts swaying as if even the molecules didn't believe her.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, Aunt Vivi," she mumbled, then looked at her dad. "Happy now?"

Parker just ran a hand down his face and nodded.

One second away from chaos.

Now… barely peace.

Barely.

And then she stepped out.

Noctavine Vaelith Draven.

The matriarch of the Origin Vampires didn't walk—she arrived, like nightfall slipping in through silk drapes and making everyone forget what light felt like. The air around her practically sighed. Long legs wrapped in a slit-gray noble dress, her skin pale like carved moonstone, her cleavage unapologetically framed in lace, and that hair—deep crimson waves cascading down her back, kissing her curves with every step.

Her presence was... unapologetically sovereign. Temptation wrapped in authority. And Parker?

Parker stared.