Chapter : 639

"This is unacceptable," Ken complained loudly. He waved his arms in the air. "A Royal Gala? Do you guys realize how much standing around that requires? You just stand in a room for hours. You hold a tiny glass of juice. You cannot sit down. It is pure, unfiltered torture. My legs are officially going on strike."

Naomi chuckled softly. She walked over to his chair. She playfully poked his shoulder.

"Stop whining, slacker," Naomi said. "You can handle one evening of standing. There will be plenty of snacks. You love snacks."

"Snacks at a gala are terrible," Ken argued lazily. He popped another potato chip into his mouth. "They only serve tiny foods. They serve tiny crackers with weird fish eggs on them. They serve cheese cut into little stars. I need real food. I need a massive pizza. I cannot survive on tiny star cheese."

"You will survive," Zinia laughed deeply. She cracked her knuckles. "It will be a good experience for you, Ken. You need to learn how to socialize with high society."

"I socialize perfectly fine," Ken defended himself. He gave Zinia a goofy grin. "I am a master of small talk. I just ask people about their favorite potato recipes. It is a fantastic icebreaker."

Princess Iris smiled warmly at her chaotic team. She loved their relaxed banter. It made the stressful political situation feel much more manageable. But she knew the underlying danger of the invitation.

"We must be cautious," Princess Iris warned softly. Her violet eyes looked at every single member of the unit. "Zeus does not do anything without a calculated reason. He gathers the prominent princes and princesses from the Empire to assert his authority. He wants to test our resolve. We must not let him intimidate us."

Sayma nodded firmly. "We will maintain decorum. We will not allow the 1st Unit to find any flaws in our behavior."

"I will protect you, Princess," Naomi promised. She rested her hand on the hilt of her silver dagger. "Nobody will disrespect us in that ballroom."

"Excellent," Princess Iris said gracefully. "We will prepare for the event. Get some rest today. Tomorrow evening, we step into the spotlight."

The elite girls nodded in perfect unison. They felt a strong surge of determination. They were ready to face the aristocratic challenge. They were ready to prove their worth.

Ken reached into his bag. He pulled out the very last potato chip. He popped it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly.

"I am going to need a very long nap to prepare for this," Ken mumbled lazily. He put his hands deep into his pockets. "And I am definitely bringing my own snacks in my pockets. You can never trust a rich guy's buffet table. It is a fundamental law of the universe."

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Naomi rolled her eyes playfully. She patted his back. "Go take your nap, Ken. I will wake you up when it is time to get ready."

"You are a true hero, Naomi," Ken smiled a goofy smile.

He stood up from his chair. He shuffled out of the strategy room. He dragged his shoes on the wooden floorboards. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. He did not care about the 1st Prince. He did not care about the leaderboard. He just wanted a few more hours of peaceful sleep before the annoying political drama officially began.

---

Far away from the 13th Unit estate, a very different scene unfolded.

The 4th Prince, Ares Belmontia, stood in the center of a vast, dusty training yard. The yard belonged to his private military compound. The sun beat down on the dry earth. The air felt hot.

Ares did not wear fancy silk clothes. He wore dark, rugged combat trousers. He did not wear a shirt. His muscular torso was covered in sweat. Scars lined his chest and arms. His spiky red hair looked . His bloodthirsty green eyes burned with intense, aggressive energy.

He stood in front of a solid stone training dummy. He pulled his right fist back. He channeled his Kinetic Accumulation magic. He punched the stone dummy.

CRACK!

The solid stone exploded into a million pieces of gravel. Dust flew into the air. Ares did not even flinch. He just breathed slowly.

A servant walked onto the training yard. The servant wore dark red armor. He held a golden envelope in his hands. The servant stopped ten feet away from the Prince. He bowed respectfully.

"My Prince," the servant announced firmly. "An imperial messenger arrived. We received an official invitation. The 1st Prince is hosting a grand Royal Gala tomorrow evening. He requests your presence."

Ares turned around. He glared at the servant. He grabbed a white towel from a wooden bench. He wiped the sweat from his face and neck. He tossed the towel onto the dirt.

"A grand Royal Gala?" Ares scoffed loudly. His voice was blunt and rough. "Zeus is throwing a party? What a complete waste of time. Dancing and drinking juice does not prove strength. It is a pathetic display."

"Will you decline the invitation, Your Highness?" the servant asked cautiously.

Ares cracked his neck. A loud popping sound echoed in the quiet yard. He crossed his massive, scarred arms over his chest. He stared at the golden envelope.

"I am uninterested in attending a social gathering," Ares stated coldly. "I despise polite conversation. I despise politicians in expensive suits. I prefer the battlefield."

Ares paused. His green eyes narrowed into sharp slits. He thought about the recent events in the capital city. He thought about the shifting leaderboard standings. He remembered his frustrating encounter in the Sunken Labyrinth. He remembered Princess Iris and her highly resilient unit.

A cruel, calculating smirk spread across his face.

"However," Ares continued. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. "I will attend this foolish gala. I will not go to dance. I will go to observe."

The servant nodded. "Observe, My Prince?"

"Yes," Ares confirmed firmly. "The leaderboard shifted massively. The weaklings are suddenly climbing the ranks. I want to look my siblings directly in the eyes. I want to observe their faces. I want to see if they possess true confidence, or if they are simply hiding behind fake bravado. I need to reconfirm their actual standing in this Succession War."

Ares uncrossed his arms. He grabbed another stone training dummy.

"I will evaluate their strength," Ares declared fiercely. "And when the gala ends, I will crush them. Send a reply. Tell Zeus I will be there."

"Right away, Your Highness," the servant bowed. He turned and walked away.

Ares punched the second stone dummy. The rock shattered instantly. He smiled. He was ready to measure his rivals.

Meanwhile, in the wealthiest sector of the Inner City, a different atmosphere existed.

The 2nd Princess, Hera Belmontia, sat in her pristine white marble office. The office looked flawless. Gold trim lined the tall windows. Crystal chandeliers sparkled brightly. The floor shined like a clear mirror.