Chapter 59: The Class S Gathers

Chapter 59: The Class S GathersChapter 59

In the heart of the Middle Continent, amidst the towering skyline of a sprawling metropolis, stood a gleaming skyscraper—sleek, fortified, and unmistakably important. Atop the structure, an illuminated insignia read: I-Tech. It marked the building as one of the most secure and prestigious facilities owned by the powerful I-Tech Corporation.

At the very summit of this skyscraper, beyond biometric security doors and elite-only access, was a room used exclusively for high-level meetings—where decisions that shaped continents were made.

A middle-aged man in a sharp, dark suit entered the medium-sized conference room. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere. At the far end of the room, two other men were already seated, engaged in quiet conversation. The newcomer paused for a moment, scanning the room, then sighed softly and made his way to the head of the table. He took his seat with practiced ease and offered a curt greeting.

"Gentlemen."

The moment the two men realized who had entered, they stood upright with urgency and bowed slightly.

"Welcome, Chief Reynolds," they said in unison.

Reynolds waved a hand dismissively. "There’s no need for all the formality."

But in truth, there was a need. This wasn’t just any man—they were in the presence of the Chief Reynolds, a living legend. In terms of wealth, political clout, and global influence, he was perhaps the most powerful human alive. While others governed systems and borders, Reynolds influenced the very balance of power between awakened beings and ordinary citizens.

The two other men seated at the table were also of great importance, though not on Reynolds’ level. They were Chief Morel, head of finance and economic affairs, and Chief Andy, responsible for security and intelligence—both leaders of divisions that oversaw civilian welfare, particularly the affairs of the unawakened.

Chief Morel, a thin, sharp-eyed man with gray-streaked hair, adjusted his glasses with irritation. "Where are they? They should have arrived before us," he complained, glancing at the time.



"Relax," Reynolds replied calmly. "They’ll be here soon."

"I still say something needs to be done about them," Morel muttered. "These Class S heroes... they’re becoming too arrogant. They wield so much power that they’ve begun to believe they’re above consequence."

"I agree," added Chief Andy, his voice deep and cold. "Some of them disregard protocol entirely. That sort of behavior cannot continue unchecked."

Reynolds observed them silently as they continued to voice their frustrations. Then, with a slight smirk, he interrupted.

"You two may want to hold those thoughts," he said with a calm warning, "because they’re already here."

Right on cue, the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Several figures entered the room, each one radiating immense power. The first was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. His resemblance to Reynolds was uncanny—almost like a younger version of him. He didn’t walk in. Instead, he hovered effortlessly on a sleek levitating platform, surrounded by a cluster of floating drones that buzzed softly as they moved with him.

He approached seat number 4 and sat down. As he did, the table beneath him lit up with a glowing nameplate:

Lord Tech — Rank 4

Chief Morel and Andy fell silent immediately, now fully aware they had been overheard. Reynolds shook his head slightly, amused.

Following Lord Tech was a man with icy blue hair and a matching pair of emotionless, glacial eyes. A thick leather coat hugged his form, and a single lens—perhaps a fashion statement or a tech-enhanced eye—covered one side of his face. He gave a curt nod to the room and sat down without a word. His nameplate blinked on:

Frost King — Rank 9

More figures entered in succession.

A tall, lithe man with long black hair carried a rectangular box filled with sheathed swords. His eyes were sharp, and his demeanor calm but deadly. He took his place silently.

Sword Blitz — Rank 5

A young woman followed, with short golden hair peeking out from under a tilted cap. She carried a sleek silver bow on her back and a quiver of glowing arrows. She smiled faintly before sitting.

Archetress — Rank 11

Next came a striking man with fiery red hair that almost seemed to glow. His expression was serene, but his aura pulsed with immense heat—like a dormant volcano.

Undying Flame — Rank 3

Then came a woman dressed in full shades of pink—her hair, outfit, and even her twin short blades shimmered in matching hues. Despite the vibrant colors, her presence was anything but playful.

Blossom Dancer — Rank 10

The door swung open again—this time with a sudden slam. A hulking man stomped into the room. Shirtless, his chest and arms were massive and battle-scarred. The only hair on his head was a single, thick braid that trailed down the middle of his scalp. He gave off the raw, untamed energy of a barbarian warlord.

Buster — Rank 7

As each hero entered and took their seat, the atmosphere in the room grew heavier. These were not ordinary people. They were the most elite, the most dangerous, and the most powerful beings humanity had to offer.

At last, a figure entered. His short, wild brown hair gave him a reckless edge, but his calm face exuded a quiet authority. Despite his composed expression, his presence commanded respect. Without a word, he took the seat closest to the head.

The Beast Rank 2.

Chief Morel acknowledged. "Is that everyone?"



"Someone’s missing," Archetress said, eyeing the empty seat down the table. "Where’s the Drunken Samurai?"

"Drunk again?" the Frost King asked, half-joking.

"He did get drunk," Tech Lord said, rising to his feet. His tone turned grim. "He’s dead."

Gasps rippled through the room. A holographic image flickered to life above the table, showing the lifeless body of the Drunken Samurai.

Silence followed. A Class S hero... dead? Unheard of.

"Do we know who did it?" the Beast asked, voice steady but cold.

"No," Tech Lord replied. "His internal organs were completely destroyed. Whoever did this left no trace. The identity of the killer remains a mystery."

He sat back down as the weight of the news settled over them. A Class S loss was catastrophic. But there was no time to dwell.

"What about Crimson Scales?" asked the Undying Flame.

"Busy," Tech Lord said. "He’s chasing a criminal who escaped his facility."

"Someone escaped ARC?" another asked, stunned. The ARC was a maximum-security fortress, led by a Class S and staffed by top-ranked heroes. Even an S-rank would struggle to get out.

"Yes. The escapee is reported to be only B-rank."

The room fell into disbelief again.

"Forget that—where’s the funny guy?" the Beast asked, looking around. "Light Runner’s not here?"

As if on cue, a breeze swept through the room, and suddenly Light Runner sat there, nodding seriously like he’d been there the whole time.

Everyone stared at him, expressions twitching.

"You’re late," the Beast said flatly.

"Late? Me? When? How? Why?" Light Runner rattled off, feigning confusion.

"You have a good reason, don’t you?" the Beast pressed, voice calm but dangerous.

Light Runner, seeing he’d been caught, gave a sheepish smile. "Ran into a portal. Figured I’d handle it on the way here."

Tech Lord stood before the Beast could respond, eager to move on.


"Let’s begin. The reason for today’s gathering... is something that could bring destruction to us all if left unchecked."

A drone hovered above the table, projecting an eerie image of a dark vial swirling with green-tinged liquid.

"The Cursed Serum," Tech Lord said. "It mutates human cells into monsters. Based on our findings, it was created by an organization calling themselves the Cursed."

The room darkened in mood.

"Their goals are unclear," he continued, "but their actions are escalating. If left alone, disaster is inevitable."

"Why not just destroy them?" Chief Andy asked.

"They’re cautious. Every attempt to locate them has failed. Their hideout remains hidden, despite all our efforts."



"Then pool our forces," Chief Morel suggested. "Especially with Light Runner helping, we can find them."

"True," Tech Lord agreed. "With full cooperation, we could locate them—but it’ll take two months."

"That’s acceptable," Morel said.

"No," Tech Lord interrupted, voice dropping. "We don’t have that long. If their activity continues unchecked, energy will continue to build. And if it overflows—"

He paused, as if dreading the words.

"—a black portal will appear."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The strongest among them—those known as walking calamities—felt their hearts sink.

The black portal.

That’s something even the so called powerhouses feared.

Tech Lord continued, his voice low and heavy, each word carrying the weight of impending doom.

"If a black portal appears... not even we will survive."

To be continued....