Hearing Simon's calm reply, a subtle smile appeared on Eira's face.
"Simon, now that your family is under company protection, we'll be stepping in directly to deal with the Crown family—and ensure you get the maximum return."
She paused, her expression turning more serious.
"Although we don't have concrete evidence linking them directly to your father's kidnapping, which means we can't physically go after them…"
She glanced at Simon, the unspoken message in her eyes clear: No, you can't burn them down.
"…But," she continued, reaching into her desk and pulling out a folder, "We did uncover substantial proof of their involvement in your father's company's downfall."
She handed him the document. Simon opened it, flipping through the pages.
Market control…
Sabotage equipment…
Bribed employee…
And more—systematic tactics that tore his father's business apart from the inside.
Despite the damning evidence, Simon remained impassive. He didn't even blink.
For him, the Crown family wasn't worth anger. They weren't a Astral Lord's Family nor were they backed by one.
Just a wealthy family, bloated by privilege but lacking true power
A name with money. Nothing more.
"Alright then, Miss. I trust the company will handle it," Simon said, voice calmly.
Eira gave a small, knowing smile. "Yes. I believe the outcome will meet your expectations."
They shook hands.
Simon turned and walked toward the elevator. But just as he reached the elevator, he paused and glanced back.
"Miss, do you happen to know someone who specializes in... special house cleaning?"
The way he said it made the meaning clear—and Eira immediately understood what kind of "cleaning" he was referring to.
She gave a faint nod. "Yes, I do. I'll have him reach out to you."
Simon gave a single nod and disappeared behind the elevator doors.
Later that day, Simon met up with Ivan. Together, they crossed the street to a sleek five-star restaurant across from company headquarters—its walls made of glass, glittering under the sun.
As they entered and sat near a corner window, heads turned.
Two young men—each radiating the commanding presence of Astral Lords—weren't something people encountered often.
Simon remained perfectly composed. Ivan, however, fidgeted at first under the attention. But one glance at Simon's completely neutral face, helped him relax and mimic his friend's.
A flustered waiter approached quickly and took their orders. Once he left, Ivan leaned back in his chair and exhaled heavily.
"Man… I swear, this 'post-hunt glow' people talk about is real," he said with a grin. "You should've seen our squad—covered in blood, stinking of smoke and Dreadbeast guts—but somehow, the moment we stepped back into the city, people looked at us like we were heroes."
Simon gave a faint smile but remained silent.
Ivan leaned forward, more animated now. "Anyway, the hunt was insane. We were tracking a mid-tier Dreadbeast pack. Everything was fine—until one of them let out a shriek and called in an Alpha. If our team leader hadn't reacted fast, I might not be sitting here."
He let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head at the memory.
"Still… it felt good. Being part of a team. Everyone had each other's backs. Even when we split up, there was this unspoken trust."
Then, curiosity got the better of him.
"So," Ivan said, eyes narrowing with interest, "how was your solo run in the wilderness? Must've been rough."
Simon leaned back slightly, his gaze distant, recalling each moment etched into muscle memory.
"It was rewarding," he said slowly. "But a lot more dangerous than expected."
Ivan raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You have to stay alert constantly. Even while sleeping, your awareness can't slip. Every sound, every shift in the wind—could mean something. And when you're forced into a fight, you can't drag it out. You end it. Quickly. Cleanly. The longer the battle lasts, the more blood spills—and that attracts others."
"Other Dreadbeasts?"
Simon nodded. "Sometimes worse. You never know what's lurking nearby. So once the fight's over, you grab what you need and vanish before something bigger arrives while you're exhausted or off-guard."
Ivan gave a low whistle. "Damn… Makes me rethink ever complaining about splitting loot again."
The conversation paused as their meals arrived—steaming dishes, elegantly arranged and aromatic.
After a bite, Ivan glanced up again. "Still, you're here. Stronger than ever. Whatever you went through out there… it worked."
Ivan felt it—the aura that leaked from Simon's body, quiet but overwhelming. It was far stronger than that of his own team leader, someone he had always considered powerful.
Ivan himself was already a 1-Star Astral Lord, just a step away from advancing to 2-Star. But compared to what he sensed now, the gap felt like a chasm.
It didn't discourage him. If anything, it lit a fire in him.
Simon's presence wasn't just commanding—it was a challenge. A reminder of how far he still had to go.
Suddenly, the food in front of him felt less important. The noise of the restaurant faded into the background. Ivan only had one thought now: finish dinner quickly and return home.
He had training to do.
Simon saw this and can't help but smile form on his face.
With swift motion Simon and Ivan ate their food, went their separate path after giving a nodded to each other.
Calling… calling…
Simon phone rang when he exited the restaurant.
"Hello, Sir. This is the Special Service Agency. What would you like us to do?" The voice on the other end was cold, direct—no name, no pleasantries. Straight to the point.
Simon didn't waste time either.
"I need a cleanup, Residential Building River top C-03, Get rid of the mess without leaving any trace."
"Understood," the agent replied without hesitation. "Estimated completion time: One hour. Disposal will be clean. No questions asked.
Any other instruction?" the agent asked.
"No" Simon said after a pause.
"Affirmative"
Click.
The call ended as quickly as it had begun.
Simon tucked his phone away and exhaled slowly. These were the kinds of services people like him now had access to—not because he was rich, but because he himself was dangerous. Backed by a company, recognized by the system, and feared by those who understood what a 3-Star Astral Lord truly meant.
He began walking back to his office.
An hour later.
Simon spent the evening catching up on news and the information he had missed during his time in the wilderness.
From memory, he recalled that tomorrow was Olivia's birthday. He knew he couldn't let her learn about the tragedy that had fallen their father—not yet. Seeing him bandaged and unconscious in a hospital bed would be too much for a child to bear.
Thanks to the money he had just acquired, his father's treatment was expedited with the best resources available. By tomorrow, his father would be well on the road to recovery—perhaps even discharged.
Simon also remembered the kind of people he and Olive had always been: tech lovers, raised in a household where curiosity was nurtured. Their father, a self-proclaimed nerd himself, had passed on his love for computers and gadgets to both of them from a young age.
To preserve and protect Olive's birthday from being disturbed by sorrow, Simon spared no expense. He bought her the latest smartphone, top-tier accessories, and a state-of-the-art personal computer system—loaded with everything a young tech enthusiast could dream of.
After making all his purchases, Simon headed home.
As he approached his villa, he noticed a postman standing beside a human-sized cargo crate positioned neatly at the front gate.
"Mr. Simon, I presume?" the postman asked, extending a hand politely.
Simon simply stared at it, unmoved. Left the postman hanging awkwardly, smile a moment longer before clearing his throat and lowering his hand.
"Cough… Ahem—Sir, this is the shipment from Sky Raptors that you booked. Please sign here to confirm receipt," he said, holding out a digital pad.
Simon glanced at the crate, then at the pad. With a quick swipe of his finger, the confirmation was complete.
The postman gave a nervous nod and left in haste, clearly relieved.
Simon removed the wooden cover, revealing a stealth-black bike—its sleek, angular design reminiscent of something out of a Tron movie. It looked fast, silent, dangerous. Built for speed and shadows.
But Simon didn't feel the thrill he once would have.
Too much had happened in last two days.
The childish excitement that once sparked at gadgets and gear had faded.
What remained was pure determination—an unshakable hunger for strength.
He left the bike untouched, right where it stood.
There would be a time for it.
Just… not today.