MMORPG: Ascension of the Strongest Spirit Master
Chapter 44: Angela Zane

Chapter 44: Angela Zane

The sun was hidden behind a layer of white clouds, a common occurrence for the inhabitants of Skyreach, but the out-of-season soft snowfall did not happen every day.

The flakes danced slowly through the thin, chilled air, gently settling on ledges, railings, and the shoulders of passersby who rarely bothered to look up.

Still, day-to-day life in the massive city carried on without pause. Far below the clouds and walkways, the common people went about their daily routines, heading to their work towers, workshops, and service sectors.

The wealthy, meanwhile, indulged themselves in layers of elevated comfort, from watching duels fought between trained champions to gambling over board games or savoring the finest cuisine the empire could offer, served in glass-walled lounges high above the street.

In one of the city’s towering high-rise hotels, an opulent structure of white marble, glass, steel, and gilded walkways, a wide-open balcony overlooked the lower city spires.

Snow collected faintly along the edges of its polished floor, undisturbed by wind.

There, seated in the farthest corner of the balcony, a man dressed in black sat alone, his table protected by an invisible veil that prevented the snow from touching him.

His cloak was deep midnight in color, lined with fur along the collar and cuffs. Snowflakes quietly rested on his shoulders, caught in the fabric and hair, but he seemed unbothered.

He sat still, his posture relaxed and unreadable, quietly enjoying his food as though the cold did not exist.

In front of him was a simple plate modestly arranged with a serving of seasoned and firm brown rice dotted with small chunks of browned meat. Besides, a bowl of spicy yogurt steamed faintly in the chill.

While he enjoyed his food, the balcony doors slid open, and a moment later, a tall figure stepped through.

A woman.

Her eyes passed over the two other guests, a couple and a lone figure, neither worth noticing before they settled on the solitary figure seated in the corner.

The guest, however, could not help but stare at her since her appearance drew attention by nature alone.

She was tall. Towering, in fact, six-foot-two, with long strides that matched her frame. Her body was lean, shaped by hard use rather than aesthetics, yet carried the symmetry and posture of someone built to be admired and feared.

Her skin was pale, whiter than snow, and smooth, looking sculpted. Her long and straight hair flowed down her back like silk. They were stark white, pure, and sharp against the black fabric of her attire.

She wore a vest of black cloth armor that clung to her body like ink, and on top, she wore a white shirt with baggy sleeves. Her forearms were guarded with polished bracers, dull black, without insignia. Around her waist was a wide dark belt, tight and without ornament.

But it was her eyes that made others stare.

They were not the eyes of a human. They were red, not smudged or light red, but the bright, gleaming red of freshly spilled blood. The pupils were vertical slits, sharp as a predator’s.

And they were fixed, now, on the man in the corner.

She stepped forward. Her stride was calm, her boots making no sound against the polished stone. The distance between them closed in precise steps, not hurried but unhesitating.

The young man glanced up briefly, met her gaze, then casually extended a hand to gesture at the empty chair across from him.

She gave him a nod, cold and silent, and then lowered herself into the seat.

She did not speak, and the man in black continued eating.

Even after the young man finished his meal, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and quietly signaled for the waiter to take the plates, she remained silent.

The waiter arrived and removed the empty dishes, while another waiter followed closely behind, leaving a black porcelain teapot and two cups.

Only then did he look at her directly. His eyes were gray, unlit steel, cold, calculating, calm, and curious, making the curiosity itself feel dangerous.

He smiled with practiced softness as he poured tea in two cups.

"Miss Angela Zane," Vlad said, his voice calm, not the least affected by her presence or beauty. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure is mine." She said, her voice smooth but without warmth.

"Now that these are out of the way," she continued, her voice just as level, "So, V, what is it you plan to offer that would benefit me greatly?" She leaned in slightly, eyes sharp.

The person seated across from Vlad was Angela Zane, Guild Leader of the Crimson Angels, the thirty-first ranked guild in the global Ascension order.

A powerful guild backed directly by Zane Enterprises, a behemoth in the real world who controlled military contracts, weapons manufacturing, and interstellar exploration.

The Zane Clan was one of the seventy-eight seats of power in the struggle for the galaxy, and Angela Zane was one of their representatives within Ascension.

As for why Vlad invited Angela to meet, it was to help her survive the upcoming downfall, and he was not helping her because she was his friend but because she was an essential piece in his plans to save the galaxy.

Angela was the daughter of Zartem Zane, the head and Chairman of Zane Enterprises, but like dozens of others, she was the heir of a world giant.

At least until recently.

Zartem Zane, her father, had vanished years ago, and now that four years had passed since his last confirmed sighting, his prolonged absence had triggered an automatic clause in the Zane constitution.

That clause declared that after four years without contact, the Contest for Succession must begin.

To understand Angela Zane’s value, one must first understand what succession contest means within the Zane Clan.

The Zane Clan traced its power back to the Three Founding Zane’s, sons of the first patriarch. Only their direct bloodlines were considered True Blood, and only their descendants were allowed to compete for leadership in each generation.

The system was strict to prevent chaos: only one heir from each of the three founding lines could enter the Contest of Succession.

When one of the three chosen won and became the Chairman, he not only ruled for two decades but, before retirement, also had the right to select the heir for the next succession without the eligibility context.

This system created stability and filtered the chaos of inheritance into a focused trial of strength, wit, and legacy.

Another clause in the Zane constitution is the Sole Heir Clause.

If the reigning Chairman went missing or died, then his direct children had the right to start a contest to select the chosen of their bloodline but if the chairman had only one heir, then that heir, was granted the right to participate in the Contest of Succession.

That clause existed to show that the clan leader held the power even in death.

And that is where Angela Zane comes in.

With no other heirs from Zartem’s bloodline and since he also never selected the chosen of his bloodline, Angela Zane was automatically one of three chosen. If she won the contest, she would become the leader of the Zane clan.

So if Vlad could make her the Zane Clan head, she would not only have the power to vote in favor of saving the galaxy but also have the power to prevent great disasters.

Vlad smiled and answered. "In four months, Marin, your vice guild master, will leave your guild with over three dozen of your best men," He spoke, instantly felt the consequences of his bold words.

A suffocating grip, as if an invisible force had closed around his entire body, stopping his blood mid-flow.

It lasted for only a moment, but in that moment, pressure exploded in his skull like it was about to split from the inside while the air in his lungs turned thick and useless.

Then, just as quickly, it stopped.

His heart kicked like a panicked beast, slamming against his ribs. A gasp tore from his mouth, and colors flooded back into his vision, but Vlad did not show his discomfort.

On the contrary, his calm smile never left his face.

"If you can not convince me that you are telling the truth within the next five minutes, this meeting is over, and you will regret ever wasting my time," Angela said, her eyes shimmering crimson, her voice cold and steady, each word dripping with unmasked bloodlust.

"Marin and his loyal dogs will join the current forty-seventh-ranked guild, Sovereign Spear, and weeks later, they will declare war on your guild," Vlad said, his carefree smile still present.

"You will lose that war," He said, and Angela had to control herself from killing Vlad for wasting her time and bursting into laughter at his ridicules and baseless claims.

"As for proving my claims," Vlad said with a soft chuckle, and after a short pause, he added, "I know that your guild is currently exploring a hidden domain, and one of your great discoveries is broken pieces of a very special armor,"

As Vlad spoke, the cold, almost amused expression vanished, replaced by a sudden sharpness, a look of alertness and restrained calculation, as if every word he said now mattered far more than she had expected.