Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

The call lingered in silence for a few seconds, like even the line itself understood the weight that had just been exchanged. A quiet settled into his bedroom—not empty, not peaceful, but heavy. Like the air had grown tired of pretending it wasn't kneeling too. Parker adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with that terrifying nonchalance. No theatrics. No need for sparkles or illusions. Just authority—raw and indelible. The kind that would make gods second guess themselves and entire bloodlines rethink their loyalty.

"Helena."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Look into the Ashfords. Every single supernatural working for them. Every magician, vampire, psi-freak, rogue demigod or whatever. I want names. Ties. Weak spots. And I want to know just how easy it would be to trample their legacy into dust."

Helena didn't even hesitate. "Yes, Your Highness. With your authority, the Ether Community would be forbidden from intervening. You're not bound by their laws. If you want to wipe out the Ashfords…" She paused, voice feather-light but surgical, "—it would take nothing."

Parker chuckled. Low and dry. The kind of laugh that could either start a bar fight or end a war.

"Helena… don't insult me by reminding me what I'm capable of. I already know." His voice was velvet wrapped around iron. "But I'm not in the mood to crush them. Not yet. I want to… approach it differently."

A heartbeat of stillness. Then—

"My apologies, Your Highness," she said, swallowing her overstep like it burned on the way down. "I'll bring all the data with me this evening."

"Mhm. Don't let that happen again." Parker leaned on the glass railing again, watching the soft clouds drift like oblivious sheep. "And tell me something, sweet Aunt… how long have you been watching me?"

There was no hesitation in the question—but there was pure venom behind the silk.

Helena froze on the other side. The weight in his voice dropped hard, like a guillotine about to fall. She gulped audibly, and Parker could almost hear her fall to one knee through the phone.

"S-since the day you were discharged from the hospital… after your birth," she whispered. "Since then… every second."

Parker's brows lifted. "So basically… my entire life. You know everything, huh?"

Silence.

"Everything I own. Everything I've built. You even know about Ava and the girls more than you're supposed to, don't you?"

She didn't deny it.

He sighed. Long and sharp, like a blade being drawn from a sheath. "And how much have you told her? My other aunt. The good one and not rotten like you."

Helena flinched. There it was. That pang. The ache she never voiced. Her sister was the sweetheart—the favorite protector. The one who baked instead of bit. Meanwhile, Helena had become… this. The watcher. The rotten one. The one who stained her hands with secrets and mistreating Parker so other one could sleep as the favourite aunt.

"She knows everything, Your Highness. I had to tell her."

"Mmm."

The sound wasn't approval. It wasn't disappointment either. It was... royalty deciding what kind of punishment would fit the crime.

He didn't raise his voice. Didn't need to.

"Do everything I said," he muttered, voice smooth but serrated. "And don't flatter yourself thinking I'm letting you off easy. I won't ever forgive you Aunt Helena until you get punished."

There was a silence on the line—one that felt less like hesitation and more like surrender. Then Helena's voice came, reverent and quiet like a nun in a room full of wolves.

"I will accept any punishment, Your Highness."

He didn't respond.

Didn't need to.

The line went dead with a soft click, but the silence left behind wasn't peaceful—it was judicial. Final. Like a verdict had been handed down by the universe itself, and even fate wouldn't dare file an appeal.

That was it.

Settled.

And just like that, the storm behind his eyes simmered—still hot, but contained.

Parker exhaled.

Not in relief. Not in exhaustion.

But in that slow, controlled way a man breathes when he's just reminded the world who the fuck he is.

He looked up again, exhaling like the air owed him rent. For a moment, he debated—step outside and deal with whatever fresh hell was waiting beyond that door… or stay right here and finish skimming through the avalanche of system rewards he hadn't fully unraveled yet.

Yeah. Fuck the drama. Let Tessa handle the door.

"Levi," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose like the universe was giving him a mild migraine, "show me the rest of the rewards. Especially the cashback ones."

[Right away, Master.]

Two silver cards materialized in his palm with the quiet grace of summoned artifacts. The metallic sheen shimmered like moonlight dipped in mercury. Each bore the number 50x, etched so sharply it looked like it could slice paper on sight.

['One-in-a-Million Chance' Card — 50x Cashback. Upon activating during any purchase, the system returns 50 times the spent amount. Single-use. Non-reversible. Time Manipulation safeguards active.]

Parker snorted. "Yeah, I figured you'd slap that last part on."

Because of course he thought about it—using Time Manipulation to glitch the fuck out of the system. Loop the card. Stack the cash. Break the goddamn economy. Who wouldn't?

He chuckled under his breath, rubbing his jaw. "You really do know me too well."

But that temptation lingered like a devil whispering in a silk suit.

He looked down at the silver cards again, weighed their potential. If he timed it right… dropped one during a multi-billion-dollar deal, that was an instant fortune. Fifty-fold. Legal money-laundering with cosmic approval.

It felt like the universe had glitched just to hand him that pair. Still, deep down, he doubted he'd ever see them again. Not unless reality itself had a soft spot for chaos and miracle math.

"Careful, Parker," he muttered to himself, mouth twitching into a smirk. "Your thoughts shape the damn reality and the universe listens to only your frequency. Say it out loud, and the universe just might hand it over wrapped in chaos and gold foil and you will never receive something like this ever."

He knew that saying like it was etched into his damn bones.

Careful what you say.

Your words are law. Your thoughts? Reality's blueprint.

The universe wasn't passive—it listened, eavesdropping like some cosmic gossip junkie, ready to manifest whatever you whispered too loud or thought too often. The tongue cut sharper than any sword, and the mind? That was the architect of fate.

He chuckled under his breath, eyes flicking down to the glimmering cards in his hand.

"Guess I better watch my mouth before I accidentally buy Mars."

His fingers drifted toward the ring on his hand—understated, but holding more sovereignty than the throne he hadn't even sat on yet. He caressed it like it was a living relic. Because in some fucked up way, it was.

The Sovereign Grip or the The Plundering Ring as thought that was the most fitting name.

It didn't just grant power. It rewrote rights. Anything he touched—objects, energy, people—became fair game. The ring didn't ask permission. It demanded surrender.

And he had ideas.

If he paired it with a temporal artifact… maybe something from the Timewell Archives or a Chrono-Glyph left behind by the Celestial Architects… maybe he could fracture the system itself. Bend cause and consequence. Force cashback card on a loop and tear open a financial singularity so insane even gods would call him a cheat.

But…

"Unfortunately," he sighed, "even cheat codes come with firewalls."

He let the card hover in his palm, like a king sizing up a weapon he wasn't allowed to use freely. Not yet.

But soon?

Soon he'd break things in ways the multiverse had forgotten were even possible.