Chapter 47: The Gala

Chapter 47: Chapter 47: The Gala

The freezing wind howled through the massive hole in the penthouse window, blowing a stray piece of newspaper across the ruined living room floor.

Donald sat on the edge of the gray sectional couch, shivering slightly in his thermal shirt. He stared at the broken glass scattered across the hardwood. Across the room, Evelyn was pacing back and forth, entirely ignoring the cold. She held a digital tablet in her hand, scrolling rapidly through a high-end fashion catalog.

"We can’t just show up and start swinging," Evelyn said, not looking up from the screen. "We kill Sterling in some dark hallway? Iron Vanguard covers it up. Tragic dungeon accident. He becomes a martyr. Guild survives. They keep hunting us."

"So we make it public," Donald said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Break him in front of the people he cares about. His investors. His political allies. The other Guild Masters."

Evelyn stopped pacing and looked at him. That fierce light in her blue eyes. "Exactly. Sterling’s whole empire is built on one idea—that he’s untouchable. He threw me in the Obsidian Vault to show everyone what happens when you cross him. So I walk into his biggest party of the year, perfectly alive, and humiliate him on his own stage..." She let it hang. "The illusion shatters. Other Guilds smell blood in the water. They tear his operation apart before we even have to."

"I like the way you think." Donald smiled. "But how exactly do we humiliate an A-Rank Guild Master without starting a war in the middle of a ballroom?"

"Through our presence." Evelyn tapped the tablet. "Sterling’s colors are black and red. Every guard, every officer, his new awakener... all wearing those colors tonight. We wear the exact opposite. I want him to look at us and see everything he failed to kill."

She turned the tablet around. On the screen was a floor-length evening gown. Deep, radiant sapphire blue, laced with intricate golden thread that looked like glowing veins.

Donald recognized the colors immediately. Sapphire blue and gold. The exact colors of their combined auras when the synergy link was active.

"Bastian can make it," Evelyn said, a confident smirk on her lips. "He can weave his kinetic mesh into the fabric. Looks like silk. Stops a blade." She tilted her head. "What do you think?"

Donald looked at the dress, then up at Evelyn. "I think Sterling’s gonna have a heart attack when he sees you." He stood, stretched. "Send the order. Tell Bastian to make me a suit that matches. We’re crashing a party—might as well be the best-dressed people in the room."

For the next two days, they didn’t leave the penthouse. Donald used his System to quietly monitor the perimeter, keeping a close watch on his [Lesser Mana Perception] to ensure Damian didn’t try to drop in for a second round. But the A-Rank secretary stayed away. Sterling was clearly too busy preparing for the Gala to waste time on a street fight.

On Friday evening, a heavy black box was delivered to the penthouse lobby. Donald brought it up and placed it on the kitchen island.

When Evelyn walked out of her bedroom an hour later, Donald actually forgot how to breathe.

The dress was a masterpiece. The sapphire blue fabric clung perfectly to Evelyn’s athletic Vanguard physique, hugging her curves before flowing down into a sweeping skirt with a high slit up the right leg. The golden thread woven through the bodice caught the light, making her look like a living weapon wrapped in royalty. Her blonde hair was swept up into an elegant twist, and a sleek, silver half-mask covered the upper half of her face, leaving her striking blue eyes completely visible.

She looked absolutely lethal. And incredibly beautiful.

Evelyn looked Donald up and down, letting out a low, impressed whistle. "Well. Look at you."

Donald was wearing a tailored, midnight-blue suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. The fabric had a subtle, expensive sheen to it, hiding the heavy kinetic armor woven underneath. He wore a crisp black shirt with a gold tie, and a solid gold half-mask rested over his eyes. He didn’t look like a rookie anymore. He looked like money. He looked like power.

"The Bloodhound’s Fang?" Donald asked, adjusting his cuffs.

Evelyn showed him her wrist, it had the tattoo of the Cursed sword. It was a sub-skill of the cursed sword. "Hidden. Ready. You?"

Donald patted his left forearm. The heavy Type-3 Pile Bunker was currently resting safely in his System inventory, completely invisible to the naked eye. "Concealed." He offered his arm. "Let’s go ruin a Guild Master’s night."

---

They rented a luxury black car for the evening. The drive to the Apex Tower was quiet, but the air inside the car was thick with anticipation. The closer they got to the center of the Upper District, the brighter the city became.

The Apex Tower was a massive spire of glass and steel, and tonight, it was the center of the universe.

A red carpet stretched from the street all the way up the sweeping marble steps to the grand entrance. Flashing cameras lined the barricades, with reporters shouting questions at the city’s elite as they stepped out of their limousines.

Donald parked the car a block away and handed the keys to a valet. He walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and offered Evelyn his hand.

She took it. The moment their bare skin touched, a tiny, suppressed spark of their synergy flared in their chests. Donald didn’t activate the full 300% multiplier—that would draw too much attention—but he let a tiny fraction of his golden mana flow into her, steadying her nerves and giving her skin a faint, healthy glow.

"Ready?" Donald asked softly.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around his. "I’ve been ready since the Vault."

They walked down the red carpet arm-in-arm. The paparazzi flashed their cameras, trying to guess which rich socialites were hiding behind the silver and gold masks. Donald kept his face completely blank, walking with the easy, arrogant stride of someone who owned the building.

They reached the top of the stairs, where four massive, heavily armed Iron Vanguard guards stood in charcoal and crimson armor. Between them were two glowing bio-scanners.

This was the only hurdle. If Julian had lied about resetting the passes, the scanners would flash red, and they would be fighting four C-Rank guards on live television.

Donald pulled the two silver passes from his pocket. He handed one to Evelyn.

Without hesitating, they both pressed their thumbs against the metal plates and slid them into the scanner slots.

The machine hummed for a terrifying second. Then, it chimed a pleasant tone. The light flashed green.

"Welcome to the Ascension Gala," a guard grunted, stepping aside.

Donald let out a quiet breath of relief. They walked through the doors and stepped into the grand ballroom.

The scale of the party was staggering. The room was the size of a football field, draped in crimson silk and lit by massive crystal chandeliers. Ice sculptures carved in the shape of the Iron Vanguard’s crest sat on tables overflowing with expensive champagne and rare meats. A live orchestra played classical music on a raised balcony.

The floor was packed with hundreds of people. Politicians in tuxedos, famous Awakeners in formal armor, and wealthy merchants in glittering gowns.

Donald’s golden [Valuation Eye] flickered to life automatically, scanning the crowd. He kept the data hidden in his mind, processing the massive influx of information.

Level 12. Level 5. Level 25.

Most of the politicians were weak, entirely reliant on their money. But scattered throughout the crowd were high-level threats. He spotted several B-Rank guild executives and a few C-Rank assassins trying to blend in near the exits.

"Over there." Evelyn leaned her head close to Donald’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. "By the main stage."

Donald looked through the crowd.

At the far end of the ballroom was a raised, brightly lit platform. Standing in the center of it, holding a glass of champagne and laughing with the Mayor of Genesis City, was Sterling.

The Guild Master wore a flawless charcoal suit with a crimson tie. He wasn’t wearing a mask; he wanted everyone to see his face. He looked massive, his broad chest and scarred neck projecting raw, physical dominance even in a tuxedo.

Standing a few feet behind Sterling, blending perfectly into the shadows of the curtains, was Damian. The bald secretary looked exactly the same as he had in the penthouse, though he was wearing a fresh suit to cover the slash Evelyn had put across his ribs.

"He looks happy," Donald noted dryly.

"Let’s fix that." Evelyn’s grip on Donald’s arm tightened.

They began to weave through the crowd, slowly making their way toward the front of the stage. They didn’t rush. They moved with a slow, deliberate grace, their sapphire and gold outfits drawing the eyes of the people around them. In a sea of charcoal, crimson, and standard black tuxedos, they stood out like a roaring fire.

Suddenly, the orchestra stopped playing.

A sharp, ringing sound echoed through the massive ballroom as Sterling tapped a silver spoon against his champagne glass.

The low hum of conversation died down instantly. Hundreds of faces turned toward the stage.

Sterling stepped up to a microphone, flashing a charismatic, powerful smile to the crowd.

"Friends. Allies. Esteemed guests." Sterling’s deep, resonant voice boomed through the speakers. "Thank you all for joining me tonight. We’re here to celebrate the continued strength and prosperity of Genesis City—and the iron grip that keeps our streets safe."

A polite round of applause rippled through the wealthy crowd.

"As many of you know," Sterling continued, his face adopting a practiced look of solemn regret, "the Iron Vanguard recently suffered a tragic loss. My previous Vanguard... gave her life defending this city’s interests. She was a loyal soldier." A pause. "But the world moves forward. The Guild has to remain strong."

Evelyn’s nails dug sharply into Donald’s arm. Her jaw was clenched so tight he could see the muscle jumping in her cheek.

"Tonight, we don’t dwell on the past," Sterling proclaimed, raising his glass high. The spotlight shifted, illuminating the center of the stage. "Tonight, I present to you the future! The new Vanguard of the Iron Guild. A warrior of unmatched loyalty and power. Ladies and gentlemen—I give you—"

"You’re giving them a lie, Sterling."

The voice wasn’t shouted, but it cut through the silent ballroom like a gunshot.

Donald had channeled a burst of his kinetic mana directly into Evelyn’s vocal cords, amplifying her voice so it echoed perfectly off the high ceilings.

Sterling froze. The champagne glass in his hand stopped mid-air. His gray eyes snapped toward the center of the crowd, searching for the source.

The crowd of wealthy elites parted like the red sea, stepping back nervously to leave Donald and Evelyn standing completely alone in the center of the ballroom aisle.

Evelyn let go of Donald’s arm. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, the sapphire fabric of her dress flowing behind her. She reached up and pulled the silver half-mask off her face, tossing it carelessly onto the polished marble floor.

The mask hit the ground with a sharp clack.

Gasps erupted from the politicians and Guild officials in the front row. Several people actually stumbled backward in pure shock.

Sterling’s charismatic smile completely vanished. The color drained from his face, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated horror.

"Hello, Guild master." Evelyn’s voice dripped with lethal sarcasm. She stood tall, bathing in the bright lights of the stage, letting every single camera in the room capture her face. "Heard you threw a party for the future of the Guild. But you really appease the ghost of your past."