Chapter : 638

A shiny gold envelope rested on the center of the wooden table.

The paper looked expensive. It caught the morning sunlight. A bright red wax seal held the envelope closed. The seal displayed a sharp lightning bolt. It was the official crest of the 1st Prince, Zeus Belmontia.

Princess Iris stood at the head of the table. She stared down at the golden letter. Her violet eyes looked very calm. She did not touch the envelope yet.

Sayma pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. The intelligent Vice-Captain held a neat notebook. She clicked her pen twice.

"The delivery arrived ten minutes ago," Sayma stated politely. "An imperial messenger brought it directly to our gate. He demanded that we open it immediately."

Naomi leaned against the edge of the table. She wore simple dark pants and a gray shirt. Her bright red hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. She did not scowl. She looked very relaxed. She smiled a warm, confident smile.

"Zeus is very demanding," Naomi said. She spun a silver dagger in her hand. The metal clicked softly. "He always wants people to rush for him. We should take our time."

Laxmi sat cross-legged on the large rug. She tossed a tiny orange spark of fire between her fingers. She grinned a wild, excited grin. "Maybe it is a duel request! I want to fight the 1st Unit! I am ready to roast his shiny boots!"

Zinia cracked her knuckles. The strong earth mage shook her head. "Princes do not send fancy gold letters for a street fight, Laxmi. They send gold letters for politics."

Luna lay flat on a long wooden bench. The lightning user rubbed her sleepy eyes. A soft knitted blanket covered her shoulders. She let out a massive, dramatic yawn.

"Politics are boring," Luna mumbled lazily. She closed her eyes again. "Politics require standing up. Standing up makes my feet tired. Please tell me we can just ignore the letter."

Ira stood perfectly still near the doorway. Her pale face showed zero emotion. "Statistically speaking, ignoring a direct communication from the highest-ranking Royal candidate results in severe diplomatic consequences. We must read the contents."

Risa sat on the floor next to Luna. The sweet pink-haired healer hugged her stuffed teddy bear. She looked at the shiny envelope. "It looks very pretty. Like a birthday card."

Ken Eliot sat in a wooden chair at the far end of the table.

He wore his navy blue suit pants. His white dress shirt hung completely untucked over his belt. He did not wear a tie. His black hair stuck up in wild, messy spikes. He drooped his shoulders as far as they could possibly go.

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He held a large bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in his lap. He reached into the bag. He pulled out a crispy chip. He popped it into his mouth.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Ken chewed his food slowly. He let out a long, lazy sigh.

"Risa is wrong," Ken announced casually. He pointed a potato chip at the table. "That does not look like a birthday card. That looks like a massive trap. It is a classic anime trope."

Naomi turned her head. She looked at Ken. She smiled a very warm smile. She playfully nudged his arm with her elbow.

"What anime trope is it this time, Ken?" Naomi asked gently. Her green eyes sparkled with genuine amusement.

"It is the tournament banquet episode," Ken explained. He took another bite of his chip. "The writers always do this. The main characters just survived a massive, chaotic battle. The tournament rankings change. The villains get very annoyed. So, the main villain throws a giant party. He invites all the heroes. He wants to show off his wealth. He wants to make passive-aggressive comments while drinking fancy juice."

Laxmi laughed out loud. "A party? Do we get to eat free food?"

"Yes, but the food is always a trap," Ken warned lazily. He slipped his hands deep into his pockets. "The party is just an excuse to start a new story arc. The heroes have to wear really uncomfortable formal clothes. They have to stand in a corner and look awkward. I hate banquet episodes. They lack proper action scenes. I vote we skip it."

Princess Iris reached out. She picked up the golden envelope. She broke the red wax seal with her thumb. The wax snapped crisply. She pulled out a pristine white piece of parchment.

She unfolded the paper. She read the elegant black text silently.

Her violet eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch. She lowered the letter.

"Ken's animated shows are surprisingly accurate," Princess Iris announced smoothly. She placed the letter back onto the table. "My older brother is hosting a grand Royal Gala. It is taking place tomorrow evening. He has extended an official invitation to the 13th Unit."

The room went silent.

Sayma pushed her glasses up again. She opened her notebook. She clicked her pen. "A grand Royal Gala? The timing is specific. The Upper Council just updated the official leaderboard this morning."

Zinia crossed her muscular arms. "We climbed the ranks. We secured a massive amount of points recently. We are a premier faction now."

"Exactly," Sayma agreed politely. She wrote a quick note. "The leaderboard standings shifted significantly. Princess Iris is now tied for the top positions. The 1st Prince is no longer running the race uncontested. He feels our presence."

Naomi smiled a tough, proud smile. "He is definitely feeling the pressure. We disrupted his perfect campaign. Now he wants to look us in the eye."

Laxmi jumped up from the rug. She pumped her fist into the air. "Let us go to the party! We can eat all his expensive food! We can ruin his fancy mood! I am ready to crash a gala!"

"We are not crashing the gala, Laxmi," Princess Iris stated gently. Her voice carried absolute, calm authority. "We are attending as official guests. But Sayma is correct. Zeus is hosting this event to celebrate the shifting leaderboard standings. He wants to project an aura of total dominance. He wants to remind the entire capital city that he is the most authoritative candidate."

Luna peeked one sleepy eye open. "Do I have to go? Galas have very bright lights. The music is always too loud. I will definitely fall asleep in the punch bowl."

"You must attend, Luna," Sayma instructed politely. "A fragmented unit shows weakness. The 1st Prince will analyze our team cohesion. We must present a united, flawless front."

Ira stared blankly at the wall. "Statistically, displaying a fully assembled roster increases our intimidation factor by forty-two percent. We must maximize our political presence."

Risa smiled a sweet, innocent smile. "I like parties. We can wear nice clothes. We can listen to pretty music."

Ken Eliot slumped even further down into his chair. He slid down until his chin almost touched his chest. He let out a massive, highly dramatic groan. He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling.