Devon's eyes flitted restlessly, each glance igniting his temper further.
'These outsiders, these... intruders. How DARE they challenge me? Here, in the heart of MY city?!'
He seethed, jaws tightened, his fingers flexing involuntarily from a sense of deep-seated entitlement.
A barrage of memories –the respect, the adulation, the weight of legacy synonymous with the Capital. Intermingled were the sharp stabs of familial mockery and disdain – only fueled his fury.
Devon felt the weight of countless gazes, each one a searing reminder of his position and legacy.
A knot of defiance formed in his stomach.
'All eyes are on me. I won't be humiliated. Not now. Not ever.'
The armor cloaking him was alive with restless energy, its blue expanse shifting as if it breathed with him.
It resonated with his mounting wrath.
The cyclonic energy of his six vortexes, charged by his fervor, supercharged his armor.
It throbbed with a dark luminance, primed and itching for release.
Brandon's forces, however, were not to be outdone.
Behind him, the Baph battalion responded to Devon's challenge.
The air thrummed with power as one by one, a hundred ethereal armors were conjured into existence.
It was a grand spectacle to behold, a sea of colors and power that looked nothing short of divine.
Most brandished five or six vortexes, proclaiming their prowess.
Their collective aura sent ripples across their surroundings, challenging the very ground they stood upon.
But it was Baph who stole the moment.
His armor was a mesmerizing kaleidoscope, ceaselessly shifting in a dance of hues.
His seven vortexes, echoing the vibrant spectrum of his armor, were a spectacle of raw might.
With an air of casual flamboyance, Baph ambled towards Brandon.
His laughter, bright and unrestrained, rang through the air.
"Looks like the spoiled brat wants to take us on, hahaha!"
He joked, slinging an arm around Brandon's shoulder.
That whimsical, jester-like quality, contrasting the somber gravity of the moment, was so inherently Baph.
His relaxed charisma, juxtaposed against his raw might, rendered him an anomaly even among his peers
"All this display of power,"
Devon murmured, more to himself than anyone else,
"yet it's a facade. They can't possibly understand the legacy of the Capital."
"Legacy isn't just about past glory, Devon. It's about the choices we make now." Crystal chided.
Amid the charged atmosphere, Crystal stood, a beacon of grace.
Her mind, however, was anything but calm.
'Devon, you hot headed fool!'
'Damn it! I can't let my useless brother's recklessness plunge our city into chaos!'
Despite her exasperation, there lingered a twinge of familial sympathy.
He was, after all, her only sibling – headstrong, yes, but unfortunately, still family.
As a seasoned military elite trained in the art of warfare and diplomacy, she was acutely aware of the stakes.
Her noble upbringing had instilled in her the values of honor and duty.
Yet, her allegiance now teetered between familial ties and an enemy who was more intimate than any other.
But this was not the time for her personal relationships.
Past teachings, skirmishes, experiences, they all culminated in this moment.
This wasn't merely about familial honor.
The fate of the Capital, its citizens, the Winchester legacy – it's all on the line.
Crystal launched herself between the imminent collision between Devon and Brandon's forces.
Her ethereal armor materialized around her, white as the purest snow, adorned with accents of gold that glittered against the stark backdrop of the battlefield.
A soft glow radiated from it, casting her in an ethereal light.
Her armor seemed to be crafted by the hands of the divine, fitting her like a second skin.
Then, a marvel that rendered all present breathless.
Behind her, eight luminous vortexes emerged, their radiant white essence in sync with her armor.
Even Brandon was visibly taken aback, not just by their sheer number, but by their bearer – the unassuming Crystal.
The main road outside the Presidential Palace was filled with auras, energies, and tensions, had transformed into a pot about to boil over.
The collective breath of everyone present seemed held, waiting for the next move, the next command, the next spark to ignite the explosive standoff.
As the ethereal armors of Brandon's battalion gleamed under the sun, a peculiar sight caught a few eyes.
Amidst the ranks of the Baph battalion, Poki, seemingly oblivious to the looming tension, had her upper body protruded from a military vehicle's window.
Her energetic eyes gleamed with mischief as she held up her selfie stick, the face-off serving as her electrifying backdrop.
"Lesson of the day, never overestimate your intelligence~ kekeke~" she sang with a wink.
As she spoke, comments on her livestream flowed in a constant stream, illuminating her phone's screen:
[ Capital thought they had the upper hand. LOL. Big brain move there. -.-lll ]
[ President Reed... More like President Read-the-room-wrong. *Facepalm* #EpicFail ]
[ Am I the only one who finds the 'leaders' in the Capital stupid? King Void's the only one we know of with 10 vortexes, their entire army of 2s and 3s might not be able to take on him alone! #TeamVoid ]
[ Poki, get us a close-up of Devon's red face please! Is he bout to cry?! LMAO ]
As the comments continued to flood in, interspersed with emojis, gifs, and memes.
Crystal Winchester's voice cut through the barrage of livestream comments, her arms outstretched, serving as a fragile barrier between Brandon and Devon.
"Brandon… Mr. Void, I beg you… Please pardon the Capital City's insolence…"
Baph's eyes, shimmering with mischief, shifted from Brandon to Crystal.
His steps, light and playful, carried him forward, closing the gap between them.
Each movement seemed to dance to a rhythm only he could hear, embodying the essence of a carefree jester.
"Oh~ And who is this beauty?"
Baph's voice was silky, filled with jest and mirth. He leaned in, his face just inches from hers, the playful glint in his eyes never fading. With an exaggerated twitch of his brows, he exclaimed,
"Boo!"
Crystal remained unfazed, her composure and poise a testament to her training and royal upbringing.
Baph let out a boisterous laugh, stepping back, "HAHAHA Boss! I like her~"
From a distance, Brandon watched the scene unfold, his eyes cold yet curious. His lips curled into a smirk, clearly amused.
"Insolence huh… I like your choice of words… but!"
Brandon paused, his gaze piercing through the ranks, settling on President Reed.
The weight of his contemplation was palpable, a silence that demanded attention.
His fingers flexed, and for a split second, it seemed like he might let the moment pass, but then...
With a subtle flick of two fingers, an almost dismissive gesture, a heavy thud resounded through the courtyard.
"URGHHHhhh…!"
*THUD*
President Reed's lifeless form hit the ground, a crimson line marred his throat, fresh blood oozing from where Asmo's blade had cut through.
Devon's face paled, a stark contrast against the rage that had painted it moments ago.
Crystal's knees almost buckled, the weight of disbelief pressing down on her.
The audacity and immediacy of the act sent shockwaves throughout the courtyard, and a wave of gasps rose, echoing the palpable horror and outrage.
"What is owed, must be paid…"
Brandon's voice was cold, yet laced with satisfaction,
"For his insolence."