Chapter 52: Sudden Conflict

The next day arrived.

It was finally time for the exploration of the Sirens’ Swamp. A dense silence filtered through the gathered heirs; however, the moment Adam stepped into the takeoff area, murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Oh my stars… who is that?”

“Was he here when we arrived? I’m sure I wouldn’t have missed him.”

“I think I saw him earlier, but I thought he was just a worker.”

“Well, you thought wrong, there’s no way in hell a mere worker could afford a Type-2 armament.”

Adam walked forward, Battle ready fully equipped.

The armor clung to him naturally, as if it had been made with his body in mind.

A Type-2, Tier-1 armament. Not ostentatious, but unmistakably refined. Deep-brown leathers formed the base, flexible yet reinforced, accented by asymmetrical bronze pauldrons and splinted vambraces.

The metal carried a faint greenish patina, echoing the mossy tones of the heavy linen tunic beneath.

A rugged utility belt sat snug at his waist, crossed chest straps securing his gear with precision.

Dull brass hardware bound everything together, glinting softly against the earth-toned hide.

Every piece served a purpose, mobility, stealth, endurance.

In simple terms…

Adam looked completely ready.

Yet as the clan heirs glanced his way, the initial shock quickly faded, as the interest drained from their eyes.

Yes, they were surprised by his presence. Yes, the armament caught their attention. But that was all. Everything else about Adam, his aura, his bearing, his lack of ostentation, screamed below average to them. Apart from the armor.

And even that wasn’t enough.

They’d seen plenty of such armaments before.

To their eyes, Adam was nothing more than a clan heir from some backwater sector in the low-tier region.

Someone who’d scraped together decent gear but lacked pedigree. The clan heirs themselves were from the mid-tier region, and anyone outside that sphere simply wasn’t worth prolonged attention.

Adam noticed the disregard yet he didn’t care in the slightest.

He preferred it this way.

Better to be ignored than to draw the jealousy of some snobby brat who couldn’t stand seeing attention diverted elsewhere. That kind of trouble was pointless.

Adam calmly found a place to stand as he stood among the Clan heirs, waiting alongside them.

They all had to.

The officials from the Sector’s Mission Hall were responsible for escorting them to the incursion site.

It wasn’t as if the location was unknown, everyone present already knew where the Siren Swamp lay. Officially, though, today was different.

Today, access had to be granted.

It was a strange format. They had already been approved to enter the incursion days ago, that was the whole reason they’d traveled to this sector in the first place. Yet, due to some bureaucratic nonsense Adam didn’t even bother thinking about, they needed another permit.

A physical one.

With an expiry time.

A clear reminder that the incursion belonged to the Mission Hall, and that whatever freedom they had inside it was borrowed, and limited.

Adam exhaled softly.

“At least they’ll give us a ride,” he muttered under his breath.

“That’s the only good part about this waiting.”

The words had barely left him when, A body flew toward him.

Adam reacted instantly.

He stepped aside effortlessly, as the figure crashed into the ground where he’d been standing a moment earlier.

The impact was brutal.

The body skidded across the floor, leaving shallow marks before coming to a stop in a twisted heap.

The man groaned as he remained motionless on the floor, clearly in need of medical attention.

Adam raised an eyebrow and followed the trajectory back to its source.

There, standing a short distance away, was a familiar figure, fist still outstretched, knuckles clenched from the punch they’d just delivered.

“That’s what you get, for trying to touch the lady.”

Adam’s gaze lingered on the speaker for a second.

His expression remained neutral, but a single thought surfaced, sharp and irreverent.

Small dick?

Adam quickly noticed the group behind Dickson.

A woman with short blue hair stood there, sunglasses still on despite the setting, a black leather jacket hugging her frame. Her posture was relaxed, but the people beside her, clearly her cronies, weren’t.

They watched the surroundings with practiced alertness, hands never straying far from their weapons.

In front of Dickson stood another familiar figure.

Adam froze for a split second.

He looked down at the unconscious body sprawled on the floor, really looked this time, and recognition hit him immediately.

Isn’t he… that oaf from yesterday?

The memory surfaced clearly. The same face. The same build. The idiot who had blocked his way in front of the arcade and started spewing nonsense to him.

Before Adam could think further, a cold voice cut through the air.

“How dare you touch one of my people. Are you courting death?”

Adam turned toward the speaker.

It was the clan heir from yesterday.

Sharp, golden eagle-like eyes stared down at Dickson with naked hostility. Adam felt a flicker of interest spark in his chest.

This just got interesting.

Dickson didn’t reply.

The clan heir’s expression darkened.

“Are you deaf?” he snapped.

A faint apparition began to form behind him, a martial spirit starting to manifest, its presence pressing down on the area like a tightening vice.

“I’ll cripple you,” the heir continued coldly, “and then I’ll make you watch as your entire bloodline is tortured.”

Dickson’s eyes narrowed.

But before he could speak,

Another aura erupted.

“You will do no such thing.”

The blue-haired woman stepped forward, placing herself squarely in front of Dickson. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but the pressure rolling off her body was anything but subtle.

The golden-eyed heir’s gaze sharpened.

The air between them trembled.

In the next moment, their auras collided, an invisible wave of condensed power crashing outward, making the ground hum as tension spiked and everyone nearby instinctively held their breath.

But one of the gathered martial heirs spoke regardless,

“It’s the Faraday and Kelvin heirs; Henry and Abigail.”

Another shook his head.

“Their families have been at each other’s throats for the past century. You’d think they’d get over it by now.”

A third added, almost conversationally, “Well, the Kelvin ancestor did sleep with the wife of the Faraday ancestor. It only makes sense their descendants would still be after each other’s blood.”

“…”

Adam remained silent.

He turned his gaze back toward the two heirs, their auras grinding against each other, pressure thickening the air.

It looked like they were about to act.

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