Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Parker sighed, dragging a hand down his face like a man who was already done with the next five minutes. He turned his head, voice flat but laced with warning.

"Sister. Seriously? Are you now a whole-ass child that I need to coach on what to say and not say? Are we doing this? Are you really sitting there making fun of a kid?"

"Nyxa what you did was wrong and daddy's not happy. That's not how you treat your mother and my woman. Okay?" He whispered to her and she nodded softly already feeling the weight of what she'd done.

This was the first time she'd humiliated her mother and she could already feel the weight of that from her father's disappointment. She knew he was angry.

Parker pulled Nyxavere into a hug before she could pop off again. Her body pressed into him, tense at first, then slowly calmed under his arms. Her breathing evened out. Her eyes still burned—but her fists unclenched. For now.

Across the room, Vivian finally looked up from her phone. Not annoyed. Not offended.

Smiling.

Shit-eating grin in full bloom.

And then—she floated.

Gracefully, arrogantly, terrifyingly. Like gravity itself asked for permission first. She hovered closer, her eyes locked on Parker with that feral sparkle only reserved for divine pettiness.

"And who exactly gave you the right to talk to me like that, little brother?" she purred, tone sharp enough to slice dimensions. "You forget who I am?"

Maya and Helena both sighed at the same time. Not in fear. Just exhausted. This was not new. The Sibling War was older than empires. And every single time they thought it was done, it flared up again like cosmic eczema.

Parker smiled.

Not the warm kind. The oh, you really want to do this here kind.

And then he moved.

No flare. No sound. Just pressure. The kind that didn't bend the room—it forgot the room.

He released everything.

All of it.

Parker didn't flinch.

Didn't speak again.

He just smiled, slow and razor-thin—the kind of smile that made the air pressure drop without warning. And then…

No sound. No gesture. Just will.

Infinity Stats, unshackled all at once.

The moment he released them, the entire mansion seemed to blink—like space itself forgot where it was. The walls didn't shake, the floors didn't rumble, because reality didn't dare react. Not yet. Not until it understood what was happening.

The universe stuttered.

Because Parker wasn't just tapping into power—he was letting loose everything he was. And everything he was… bent rules.

From his skin, a hum pulsed—quiet, almost delicate, but it came with a luminance so absolute, the air around him began to fracture with soft silver cracks. They weren't lightning. They weren't even energy.

They were law breaking.

From his fingertips to his bones, Omni Energy surged outward in waves—colorless and bright, like the idea of light before light existed. It bled into the room, coiling silently toward Vivian. Not with rage. Not with emotion.

With judgment.

His Omni authority wasn't fire or chaos—it was court. It was decree. A divine command masked in stillness.

Time slowed. No, it didn't slow—it obeyed.

And still… Vivian stood there. Untouched.

The wave hit her but passed through. Like smoke. Like Parker's will had tried to reach her—but she wasn't fully here to receive it. Not in body. Not in form. Only in essence.

The entire room? Didn't feel a thing.

No one flinched.

No one even breathed.

Because they couldn't.

In that moment, Parker and Vivian no longer occupied the same realm as the rest. Their interaction slipped into another plane—one where the laws were written in Omni glyphs and legacy.

And everyone else?

Just ghosts watching gods negotiate.

But Nyxavere?

Yeah, she'd had enough.

She floated forward, quiet and cold. Her white princess dress shimmered—then shifted, morphing in mid-air. It unraveled into threads of light and reformed around her body like a living circuit board—an ethereal battle suit, sleek, skin-tight, etched with ancient runes and pulsing with Omni Energy.

She was no longer a princess.

She was the storm they all had nightmares about.

Vivian tilted her head and smiled wider. "Finally. I like this. Been hundreds of thousands of years since I stretched properly. Guess I'll use daughter and daddy as warm-up sets."

Nyxavere's face didn't even twitch. "Don't flatter yourself," she said, voice like a blade unsheathing inside your brain. "I alone am enough to bury your half-formed ass back into reircanation for another few millennia. Must I remind you you're not fully Nihility yet"

And the worst part?

Everyone knew it was true.

There was a reason Nyxavere had been hidden her entire life. A reason only whispers remained about her existence.

She wasn't just powerful.

She was the bane of existence itself—a living anomaly that didn't obey the laws of creation.

And Vivian?

Could stand against her… maybe. But only if she was whole. And right now, she wasn't even close. She was only half of what she used to be.

Not fully Nihility!

The air tensed. Something buzzed faintly—like the edge of reality was waiting for a cue to break.

Then—

Snrrrk—

A sharp snot echoed from across the room, slicing through the god-tier pissing match like scissors through tension.

Everyone turned.

Zhang Ruoyun stood there, one brow raised, arms folded, clearly unimpressed. Her silver hair shimmered, and that half-mask she wore didn't even try to hide her smirk.

"Seriously," she said flatly. "How long's it gonna take for the two of you to grow the fuck up?"

A pause.

And then several people—including Evelyn—just blinked like damn.

Because she said it.

She really said it.

Zhang Ruoyun's heels clicked softly as she stepped forward, her presence cutting through the weightless air like the blade of a guillotine dipped in velvet. She didn't float. She didn't flare. She simply walked. But each step echoed louder than any divine burst of power had.

She moved between them without hesitation, not asking for permission—not needing it. Her body slipped into the very center of the storm, directly where Parker, Vivian, and Nyxavere hovered like three loaded guns waiting for the click. She didn't look nervous. She didn't even blink.

Her half-mask gleamed faintly beneath the chandelier light, catching a flicker of Omni residue still lingering from Parker's earlier flare. Her silver eyes cut through both siblings like judgment itself.

Then she turned to Vivian—calm, unfazed.

"If you don't want the most powerful beast in this estate joining this pissing match," she said coolly, "then stop acting like one."

The silence thickened.

Ruoyun didn't back down. Her tone didn't waver, and her words weren't dipped in theatrics. They were just facts, delivered with the kind of elegance that didn't need volume to carry weight.

"Right now," she continued, her gaze steady on Vivian, "you're no different from Nyxavere. She's the only child in this room—and at least she has the excuse of being one."

Vivian's smile faded into something unreadable.

And Nyxavere? She didn't snap back. Didn't lash out. She just stared at Ruoyun like someone seeing their own reflection in a sharper mirror.

Even Omni Energy seemed to settle—just a little.