Chapter 556: The Storm Behind Closed Doors

The rain had only just stopped when the long, black hovercar slid down the broad streets of Magecity VI.

The neon glow from the towers reflected across its polished surface, a mirror of the city’s restless heart. Inside, a man seated in the rear remained silent, his sharp red eyes fixed on the sprawling skyline as if measuring its worth.

Guildmaster Renard Callius of the White Comets, Magecity VI branch, was not a man easily read. His hair, silver streaked with black, was tied neatly at the nape of his neck. His long coat—lined with faint constellations stitched in white thread—marked his station more clearly than any badge.

He carried himself with quiet poise, but those who had worked with him knew that behind his calm was the steel of someone who had buried rivals and outlasted all betrayals.

His assistant, a younger woman named Aelira, adjusted her datapad nervously.

"Guildmaster, the Union called this meeting with urgency. They’ve already confirmed the attendance of two senators, the Steelhand Guild’s representative, and Commander Veyl from Enforcement."

Renard tilted his head, finally speaking. His voice was smooth, but it carried a weight that seemed to press against the walls of the hovercar.

"And do they know yet what they’re dealing with?"

Aelira hesitated. "Rumors have spread, but facts are scarce. Only that the so-called ’Dragon Lord’ has declared Megacity I his domain. Some fear he intends to spread his reach outward."

Renard’s lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "Then this meeting will be a storm of frightened voices. I wonder how much sense can be salvaged."

She bit her lip, then glanced at him. "And... what of us, Guildmaster? What should our stand in this matter be?"

Renard finally turned his gaze from the window, eyes narrowing slightly as if the question itself weighed more than the city lights.

"Our stand is already decided, Aelira. If Master Yuuto permitted a so-called Dragon Lord to take Megacity I without lifting a hand, then that silence is as good as his endorsement."

Aelira blinked. "You mean—he supports it?"

Renard leaned back against the leather seat, his expression unreadable. "Yuuto does not waste effort. If he opposed this Dragon Lord, the city would already be ash and rubble. The fact that it still stands means he is allowing this... experiment to unfold. That is the signal we must follow. To move against it would be to move against Yuuto himself."

Aelira lowered her gaze, fingers tightening around her datapad. "Then our role is not to fight..."

"Correct," Renard said softly, his eyes once more on the skyline. "Our role is to listen. To measure. And to prepare for the moment Yuuto decides whether this Dragon Lord is to be a partner... or a corpse."

The hovercar slowed before a marble-faced grand hall reinforced with steel pylons and defensive wards. Two rows of armored Union enforcers stood at the gates, weapons at rest but hands tense. Even their presence betrayed unease.

Renard stepped out gracefully, his long coat flowing like a banner behind him. Aelira trailed quickly, clutching her datapad. The Guildmaster’s eyes swept the hall once, cold and assessing, before he strode inside.

The first doors rumbled open, heavy slabs of alloy sliding back into the walls. A scanning archway lit up with a low hum, sweeping blue light across them. Aelira flinched when the beam crawled up her throat before releasing her with a sharp chime. Renard strolled through without slowing, as if the machine itself knew better than to question him.

Inside, another set of glass-like doors blocked the way. They glowed faintly with Union crests, runes shifting across the surface. The moment Renard’s guild seal touched the sensors, the glass rippled like water and parted. Aelira let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

"Even the wards feel nervous tonight," she whispered.

Renard didn’t reply. His eyes stayed forward as they walked the long corridor lit by strips of hovering white light. At the end, massive black doors waited, carved from obsidian, drinking in every glow around them. Behind them, voices clashed like steel against steel.

The guards pulled the doors wide, and the sound spilled out like a storm.

The meeting chamber was vast, the air heavy with tension. A crystal sunlamp burned above the table, shadows stretching long and sharp across the walls.

Renard’s eyes moved across the guildmasters.

The first voice belonged to Garruk Thorne of the Berserkers. A giant of a man, bare-armed and scarred from years of fighting, he slammed a fist on the table that made the crystal lamp shudder.

"While we sit here wasting breath, that monster strengthens his hold on Megacity I! Send me and my guild members and I’ll tear our way to his throne. Let him bleed, or let us—either way, I’ll meet him head-on!"

Across the table, Lilan Seraya of the Red Phoenix shook her head. She wore a red and white guild uniform with a crimson silk coat around her neck, her eyes sharp as blades.

"I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this situation. A monster taking over an entire city means it not only subdued all the guild members there but also the Union director. Rushing in will only feed him more corpses. The Dragon Lord isn’t some beast you smash apart, Garruk. He’s a ruler. If he claims a city, then he rules with purpose. Fire must meet fire, yes—but it must be fire wielded with care."

A shadow shifted further down the table. Varrow Kestrel, Guildmaster of the Reapers, wearing a black and purple guild uniform, leaned forward just enough for the lamplight to catch his pale face. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a knife.

"Kings fall. Lords bleed. So will he. All it takes is one strike in the right place. The question is... who’s willing to pay for that strike?"

The chamber calmed at his words. Everyone knew what the Reapers offered—assassination, silence, endings bought with coin.

Garruk barked a laugh, scars tightening across his arms. "This ’Dragon Lord’ isn’t some city governor you can stab in an alley, Varrow. A monster capable of subduing an entire city can be considered calamity class. You’d need a hundred shadows to scratch him."

Varrow’s lips curved faintly. "One shadow is enough, if it knows where to strike."

At the far end, Marrec Veynn of the Blue Seals leaned back in his chair, in a white and blue guild uniform, boots crossed on the table’s edge. His grin was lazy, but his eyes gleamed like knives.

"Kill him, bribe him, bow to him—it doesn’t matter. What matters is control. The fact is he’s in control now, and the fact we can even still communicate with some people there, and there aren’t any cries for help, should speak volumes. I don’t know why you lot are so worked up about killing the guy."