Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 426

Chapter 426: Priorities of an Existence Prince
He finally turned away from the distant carnage, his attention refocusing on the meeting ahead with the smooth transition of someone changing television channels. “Besides,” he added more quietly, “there are rules even I must follow when it comes to some things. Boundaries of intervention established when the first Existence laws were written. Break them, and the consequences ripple across all realities.” Collective Fates.

Ava, still completely oblivious to the conversation’s true nature, checked her watch impatiently. “Are we going inside, or should I tell them we’re rescheduling to accommodate your existential staring contest with the skyline?”

Parker’s laugh was genuine as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Always the pragmatist, Ava. Yes, we’re going in.” He cast one final glance toward the shadow dome, now pulsing with dark energy as it consumed another block. “That situation will resolve itself one way or another. Either the shadow entity will realize its mistake and retreat, or…”

“Or?” Cassidy prompted.

Parker’s smile was terrifying in its casualness. “Or it will eventually reach this building, sense what’s waiting inside, and experience the briefest moment of perfect regret before ceasing to exist.” He straightened his already immaculate tie. “Either way, the board meeting takes precedence.”

As they walked toward the gleaming entrance, Atalanta whispered to Maya, “Sometimes I forget how utterly cold he can be.”

Maya’s response carried the weight of seventeen years of knowing exactly who and what Parker truly was. “It’s not coldness. It’s perspective. When you’ve witnessed the birth and death of universes, a few hundred human lives become… statistical.”

The limo doors closed as Parker led his team into the building, leaving the distant catastrophe to unfold without divine intervention. Inside the structure, something ancient and powerful stirred slightly, sensing Parker’s arrival—one apex predator acknowledging another in their shared territory.

The shadow entity, had it possessed any real cosmic awareness, would have recognized the true threat wasn’t the approaching building, but the being who had just entered it—a man who viewed an ongoing massacre with the same concern most people reserved for mild traffic delays.

After all, it wasn’t his business unless someone made it his business. And gods help anyone foolish enough to do that.

Parker paused at the threshold of the Sophisticated Space building, turning back to meet Atalanta’s concerned gaze. The automatic doors hovered open behind him, as if even they dared not interrupt.

She still had that begging eyes behind her look.

“What exactly would you have me do, Atalanta?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle. “Go waste my afternoon stopping some shadow-wielding weakling from his little New York temper tantrum?”

He gestured toward the building’s sleek interior. “Or should I proceed with the business upon which the entire Earth and connected multiverses depend?” His eyes—normally warm with familial affection when addressing her—now held the ancient coldness of stars dying in distant galaxies. “Please, enlighten me on the correct cosmic prioritization.”

Atalanta’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no sound emerged. The casual way Parker framed the deaths of hundreds as a “temper tantrum” left her speechless, yet his brutal logic was undeniable. If the fate of countless realities truly hung in the balance of today’s meeting, what were a few hundred souls in the cosmic equation?

“Didn’t think so,” Parker said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He straightened his already immaculate jacket and turned away, the matter settled with the finality that only beings of his caliber could command.

Ava hustled after him, heels clicking on polished marble as she scrolled through her phone. “The Icelandic building ownera are requesting an expansion of section 7.3 in the accords,” she reported, completely oblivious to the conversation about mass casualties and multiversal stakes.

She hadn’t checked the news today, hadn’t noticed the conspicuous absence of pedestrians around the building, hadn’t seen the distant plume of darkness now visible on the horizon to normal human eyes.

Her reality remained contracts, clauses, and corporate maneuvering—a blissfully limited perspective.

Cassidy followed last, casting one final glance over her shoulder at the shadow dome now consuming its third city block. Her newly immortal senses could perceive the screams of the dying, each one a unique note in a terrible symphony of endings. She shuddered and hurried after Parker, choosing to trust his judgment despite her misgivings.

The lobby of Sophisticated Space had changed from last time he came here and now defied conventional architectural understanding.

The lobby of Sophisticated Space defied conventional architectural understanding. Surfaces curved in ways that suggested non-Euclidean geometry, light sources remained impossible to pinpoint despite illuminating everything perfectly, and the ceiling appeared simultaneously twenty feet high and endlessly vast.

It wasn’t just designed to impress—it was designed to subtly inform visitors they were entering a space where ordinary rules held limited jurisdiction.

The receptionist—a woman whose perfect appearance suggested either extensive cosmetic work or something not entirely human—looked up as they approached.

Her professional smile faltered momentarily upon seeing Parker, replaced by something closer to religious reverence before she composed herself. The slight tilt of her head, the way her eyes tracked his movement with predatory precision—she was definitely one of Seoryeon’s people, positioned here to ensure safety through the guise of mundane employment.

“Mr. Black,” she greeted, her voice carrying the slight musical undertone of someone speaking a second language flawlessly. “She’s waiting for you.”

Parker nodded, not bothering with pleasantries. The receptionist wasn’t really a receptionist, and they both knew it.

“Who’s ‘she’?” Ava whispered as they walked toward a corridor that seemed to extend further than the building’s exterior dimensions should allow. “I thought we were meeting the board?”

“Change of plans,” Parker replied cryptically. “The board can wait.”

Cassidy knew, though. Parker had another agenda her and also her newly immortal senses could detect the familiar energy signature approaching from the elevator bank—corporate ambition mixed with barely concealed confusion.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Callista Nova stepping into the impossible lobby. At thirty-two, she possessed the kind of natural elegance that couldn’t be taught in finishing schools.

Her long, lustrous brown hair cascaded past her shoulders in perfect waves that caught the lobby’s impossible lighting, framing a face of striking beauty—high cheekbones, full lips painted in professional coral, and intelligent dark eyes that missed nothing. Her cream-colored sleeveless top was impeccably tailored, paired with a charcoal pencil skirt that spoke of expensive taste without being ostentatious.

Diamond earrings caught the light as she moved with the confident grace of someone who had earned her position through competence rather than connections.