CHAPTER 390: DISAPPEARING LEADERS

The Sterling archives were everything Lucas had expected and nothing like he’d imagined. Row upon row of crystalline storage matrices arranged with contained data, their surfaces flickering with streams of information that moved too quickly for human eyes to follow. The interface responded to his touch with fluid grace, projecting holographic displays that materialized and dissolved at his command.

Lucas started with the obvious searches—eighth ancestor, missing families, recent disappearances. The results were frustratingly sparse. References to seven founding families, detailed genealogies stretching back millennia, economic records, territorial agreements, but nothing about an eighth bloodline.

’Maybe I’m approaching this wrong,’ he thought, changing tactics. ’If someone wanted to hide information about a missing family, they’d scrub the direct references first. But secondary sources, administrative records, might still contain traces.’

He dove deeper into the bureaucratic minutiae—supply requisitions, population censuses, military deployment records. Hours passed as he sifted through endless streams of data, looking for gaps, inconsistencies, anything that might indicate deleted information.

The breakthrough came from an unexpected source: funeral records.

Every family head’s death was meticulously documented—cause of death, age, ceremonial arrangements, succession protocols. Lucas pulled up his own family’s records, tracing the Grey lineage backward through generations.

His father, Damien Grey, had succeeded his grandfather, Aldric Grey, who had died at age fifty-three. Before Aldric, there was Cassius Grey, who had died at fifty-four. Before him, Theron Grey, dead at fifty-two.

’Wait,’ Lucas frowned, studying the pattern. ’Every single family head died in their early fifties. That’s... statistically impossible.’

He expanded his search to include the other six families. The pattern held. Sterling heads, Cane heads, Ares heads—all died between ages fifty and fifty-five, succeeded by their strongest heir.

But as Lucas dug deeper into the records, something else emerged. The word "died" appeared consistently in the formal succession documents, but when he cross-referenced with medical records, burial permits, and witness statements, the details became murky.

Aldric Grey’s medical file listed cause of death as "natural causes," but there were no autopsy records, no physician reports, no death certificate. The same pattern repeated across all seven families.

’They didn’t die,’ Lucas realized with growing certainty. ’They disappeared.’

His fingers flew across the interface, pulling up travel records, communication logs, anything that might indicate where these family heads had gone. Most trails ended abruptly at the point of their supposed deaths, but occasional fragments remained—a cancelled meeting here, an unfinished project there.

Then he found the whistleblower records.

Buried deep in the criminal justice files, accessible only through advanced search parameters, were reports of a man claiming massive conspiracy among the seven families. The reports were filed consistently—always within months of each family head’s "death."

The whistleblower’s name made Lucas’s blood freeze: Prince Dominic Grey.

According to the file, he was the older brother to Damien Grey, his father’s brother. A man Lucas had never heard mentioned once in his entire life.

According to the sparse records that remained, Dominic Grey had repeatedly claimed that the family heads weren’t dying but being taken somewhere against their will. He’d filed complaints with the planetary councils, demanded investigations, accused the other families of complicity.

Each time, he’d been declared mentally unstable and confined to psychiatric facilities.

The most recent entry was dated just ten years ago—around the time that their grandfather "died" and his father assumed leadership of House Grey.

’Uncle Dominic is still alive,’ Lucas breathed. ’And if he’s right about the conspiracy...’

A chill ran down his spine. If the family heads weren’t dying naturally, if they were being taken somewhere, then his father might be approaching the same age where she’d simply vanish or perhaps it was that time. The thought of his father disappearing like their grandfather, made him sit down to consider wanting to return back to active duty so quickly.

He was still processing the implications when the entire building shook.

---

"The usual terms then?" Matthias asked, settling back in his chair with elegance. "You accompany me to the investor meeting, we present a united front between our houses, everyone benefits from the optics."

Lucy’s smile was sharp enough to cut diamond. "And what exactly do I get out of this arrangement? The privilege of standing next to you while you take credit for Grey diplomatic connections?"

"Come now, Princess. Think of it as an investment in inter-family relations. Besides," Matthias’s grin turned predatory, "I seem to recall you enjoying our... competitions when we were younger."

"If by enjoying, you mean consistently defeating you in every single contest we ever had, then yes, I suppose I did enjoy it."

Matthias laughed, but there was an edge to it. "Your memory seems selective. I distinctly remember winning our final sparring match before you left for advanced training."

"You remember incorrectly," Lucy replied coolly. "I put you on your back in under thirty seconds. Your instructors had to carry you to the medical wing."

"Interesting. My recollection is quite different." Matthias leaned forward, his diplomatic mask slipping slightly. "Perhaps age has affected your memory, Princess."

Lucy’s eyes flashed—literally. For just a moment, blue electricity danced across her irises. "Are you calling me old, Matthias?"

"I’m suggesting that your confidence might be based on outdated information. We’re not children anymore, Lucy. The dynamics have changed."

"Have they now?" Lucy’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "And what exactly are you implying?"

Matthias stood, moving to the window that overlooked his family’s training facilities. "I’m saying that your reputation as the unbeatable Grey princess might be... exaggerated. Childhood victories don’t necessarily translate to adult capabilities."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Lucy remained seated, but her posture shifted subtly into something more fierce.

"You want to test that theory?"

"Actually," Matthias turned back to her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, "I do. A simple wager. If I win, the terms of our arrangement are entirely at my discretion—timing, presentation, everything. If you win, you get full access to our investors and I owe you a favor to be collected later."

Lucy was quiet for a long moment, studying his face. "You’re serious."

"Completely. Unless, of course, the great Princess Lucy Grey is afraid of losing to a Sterling."

It was perfectly calculated bait, and Lucy knew it. She also knew that declining would be seen as weakness, both by Matthias and by anyone who heard about this conversation later.

"Fine," she said, standing with grace. "But when I put you down, I want it on record that you asked for this."

Matthias’s grin widened. "Wouldn’t have it any other way. Shall we?"

He led her through corridors lined with Sterling family portraits, past guards who tried very hard not to stare at the two royals walking toward what everyone in the compound knew was about to become a very expensive repair bill.

The Sterling combat facility was impressive even by royal standards. The circular chamber was easily sixty meters across, with floors designed to absorb massive impacts and walls that could withstand artillery fire. Weapon racks lined the perimeter, displaying everything from simple training blades to level-five beast weapon.

"Choose your weapon," Matthias said, gesturing to the impressive array.

Lucy glanced at the weapons with mild interest, then shrugged off the elegant coat she’d been wearing. Underneath, her outfit revealed lean muscle definition that spoke of years of intensive training. Her arms were toned without being bulky, her stance balanced and ready.

"I don’t need one," she said simply.

Matthias chuckled. "Confidence or stupidity, Princess?"

"You know what Greys are," Lucy replied, electricity beginning to dance around her fingertips. "Lightning doesn’t need a weapon."

Instead of selecting a weapon himself, Matthias walked to what looked like a blank section of wall and pressed his palm against a hidden panel. The wall slid away to reveal a sleek mechanical suit that looked like it had been designed by someone who understood both engineering and artistry.

The suit was roughly human-shaped but clearly enhanced—broader shoulders, reinforced joints, hands that ended in articulated fingers capable of incredible precision. It wasn’t the bulky, industrial mech anyone might have expected, but something that moved with fluid grace as it powered up.

"No surprises there," Lucy said, but her eyes had sharpened with interest. "I already knew what this was."

Matthias stepped behind the suit, his eyes shifting from their normal brown to pure black. Thin threads of shadow extended from his fingertips, connecting to ports along the mech’s spine and shoulders.

"Sterlings aren’t known for our physical prowess," he said, his voice carrying a strange harmonic as the connection established. "But give us a doll, and we become something else entirely."

The mech suit straightened, its movements perfectly synchronized with Matthias’s gestures. When he flexed his fingers, the suit’s hands responded identically. When he shifted his weight, the suit mirrored the motion with mechanical precision.

"Ready, Princess?"

Lucy’s response was to let electricity flood through her arms until they glowed with contained power. Her eyes shifted to brilliant blue, and when she smiled, it was the expression of someone who lived for exactly this kind of challenge.

"Let’s have it."

The mech suit launched forward with explosive force, displacing air in its wake and covering the distance between them in under a second. Lucy’s eyes widened—not with fear, but with genuine surprise at the speed.

She threw herself sideways, rolling to avoid the initial strike, but the suit was already adjusting. Matthias’s puppet mastery was flawless; the mech moved with human intuition backed by mechanical power.

Lucy came up from her roll with lightning crackling around both fists. She pivoted and swung, putting her full strength behind a punch that met the mech’s incoming strike head-on.

The impact created a shockwave that rattled the weapons on the walls. Both combatants were thrown backward—Lucy skidding across the floor, Matthias maintaining his position but visibly straining to control the suit as it stumbled.

"Not bad," Lucy called out, electricity arcing between her fingers. "But you’re still thinking like a Sterling."

She charged forward, but instead of another direct assault, she slid beneath the mech’s guard and drove both palms against its torso. Lightning flooded through the suit’s systems, but the electrical discharge was absorbed by built-in conductors.

"Surge-resistant," Matthias said with satisfaction. "Did you think we wouldn’t plan for that?"

The mech’s backhand caught Lucy across the ribs, sending her tumbling. She rolled with the impact and came up on one knee, electricity now playing across her entire body.

"Planning is one thing," she said, wiping blood from her lip. "Execution is another."

This time when she moved, she was faster. Lightning enhanced her speed, her reflexes, her reaction time. She became a blur of motion, striking the mech from multiple angles in rapid succession. Each blow was precisely targeted—joints, sensors, connection points between armor plates.

Matthias was good, incredibly good. His control over the mech was seamless, and he adapted to her tactics in real-time. When she targeted the left shoulder joint, he shifted to protect it while counterattacking with the right arm. When she went low, he adjusted the suit’s stance to maintain balance.

"You’ve improved," Lucy admitted, dodging a strike that would have taken her weeks to recover from the headache that would follow.

"So have you," Matthias replied, his shadow threads writhing as he pushed the mech to its limits. "But improvement only goes so far."

The mech suddenly changed tactics, using its enhanced strength to grab chunks of the reinforced flooring and hurl them at Lucy. She had to dodge constantly, her lightning-enhanced reflexes the only thing keeping her from being crushed.

But dodging meant she couldn’t attack, and Matthias was using the respite to position the mech for something bigger. Lucy could see the shadow threads thickening, more power flowing into the suit’s systems.

’He’s building up for a finishing move,’ she realized. ’Time to stop playing defensive.’

Lucy planted her feet and stopped dodging. Instead, she began gathering electricity—not just around her hands or arms, but throughout her entire body. The air around her started to ionize, and the smell of ozone filled the chamber.

"What are you doing?" Matthias demanded, but there was uncertainty in his voice now.

"Something my instructors told me never to do indoors," Lucy replied. The electricity around her was becoming visible now, crackling arcs that danced across her skin and jumped to nearby metal surfaces.

The mech suit lunged forward for what should have been a decisive strike, but Lucy was ready. At the last possible moment, she grabbed the suit’s wrists and channeled every amp of electricity she could generate directly into the contact points.

The surge-resistant systems held for exactly three seconds. Then they overloaded.

Every light in the Sterling compound flickered as Lucy poured enough electrical energy to power a small city through the mech suit. The machine’s systems fried in cascading failures, its movements becoming erratic as Matthias lost control.

But Lucy wasn’t done. With the mech immobilized, she redirected the electrical flow upward, creating a massive electromagnetic pulse that shattered every piece of electronic equipment in the chamber and sent a shockwave through the entire building.

The lights went out. Emergency power kicked in a moment later, bathing everything in red light.

In the sudden quiet, Lucy stood over the smoking remains of the mech suit, electricity still arcing around her fingers. Matthias was on his knees behind the wreckage, his shadow threads severed and his eyes back to their normal brown.

"Still think my reputation is exaggerated?" Lucy asked, breathing heavily but still standing.

Matthias looked up at her with an expression of genuine respect mixed with something that might have been fear. "No," he said quietly. "I don’t think that anymore."

Across the compound, Lucas felt the massive electrical discharge and shook his head with grim amusement.

"That sounded like an angry big sister," he muttered, returning his attention to the archive files that might hold the key to saving her from whatever fate had claimed their father.