CHAPTER 216: THE ARCHITECT

The air in Washington D.C. was unnaturally still. The clouds above the city hung heavy, tinted faintly gold by the morning sun, but beneath that light, there was tension — a subtle heaviness that made even the birds circling above the White Citadel Tower change their flight paths.

This was no ordinary day in the U.S. capital.

For the first time in several years, the Alliance of the Great Families, The Global Businessman Alliance— the coalition that had ended World War III and reshaped the global order — had been called to assemble at the American region. And not just through representatives or emissaries — but in person.

The meeting was to be held at the Grand Continental Hall, a secluded, heavily fortified skyscraper on the eastern end of D.C. that didn’t exist on any public map. The building was known among elite circles as a neutral zone — a place that housed discussions capable of shaking nations.

At precisely 9:00 a.m., a long convoy of armored black limousines rolled through the cordoned-off streets, escorted by silent men in formal suits and black-tinted glasses. The insignia emblazoned on the vehicles — a stylized flame intertwined with a dragon’s fang — marked the arrival of the Dorne Family.

From the central car stepped Aurelian Dorne, the current patriarch of the Dorne lineage — one of the two World Class Families governing the American region.

At this moment, there was a intense aura around him that could alone him to wipe out his own strike force if he wills it.

But despite that, behind him, his entourage followed — a dozen of his personal retainers and advisors, each cloaked in black and bearing the insignia of the Dorne flame.

"Patriarch, the Silvercrest and Helion representatives have already arrived," one of his aides informed him as they entered the heavily guarded glass lobby of the Spire.

"Good," Aurelian replied curtly, voice deep and authoritative. "The sooner this farce begins, the sooner I can return to what truly matters."

He didn’t need to say it aloud — everyone in his entourage knew what he meant. Vengeance.

Inside, the meeting chamber resembled a cross between a war room and a throne hall — a circular table of black alloy surrounded by holographic screens and windows overlooking the city skyline. Each seat was marked with an insignia — one for each of the great families and clans that held influence over the American continent.

Already seated were several powerful figures:

Lord Franklin, head of the Franklin Super Family, his stern face marred with fatigue and irritation. He kept glancing at his holo-pad, clearly frustrated by the lack of knowledge from both his daughter Veronica and the Harbinger emissary that went into Cornerstone. His jaw tightened each time he scrolled through the encrypted feeds.

Lady Carmilla Helion, matriarch of the Helion Clan, sat elegantly with her signature crimson shawl. Her sharp golden eyes gave off the impression of a serpent studying its prey.

Darius Silvercrest, the patriarch of the Silvercrest Family, sat with his back straight and his hands folded — his expression calm but his aura heavy, the kind of stillness that only true strength could command.

The Crimson Fang Family’s representative, a bearded, broad-shouldered man named Luther Fang, tapped impatiently at the table, his knuckles cracking audibly. His clan’s control over the southern industrial hubs made him one of the most feared businessmen in the Alliance.

One by one, the rest of the elite gathered. By the time the digital clock above the chamber struck 9:20, every seat was filled — except two that was right next to the one Dorne was planning on sitting on. Seeing this, Dorne had a confused feeling as he thought.

’That old bastard isn’t here? Well this is interesting’

But despite that, Aurelian Dorne sat down, resting his clasped hands on the polished surface of the table. "Ok, now that almost everyone is here," he said coldly, voice echoing. "Perhaps someone can explain why this meeting was called with no prior notice. Some of us have... urgent matters that require attention."

Lord Franklin exhaled sharply. "I share your sentiment, Dorne. I’ve received no updates concerning a family member of mine in over a week. Whoever arranged this meeting had better have a reason that justifies such haste."

The others murmured their agreement. The atmosphere thickened. The low hum of the air purifiers was the only sound for several seconds — until the circular table itself began to shift.

A holographic seal appeared at its center — a rotating insignia of the Global Alliance, formed after the war to maintain balance among the remaining powers of Earth.

The light intensified. Then, a figure slowly materialized from the projection.

At once, the room fell silent.

It was him.

Even among the most powerful elites in the world, this was a man whose name was spoken in whispers — a shadow that had guided history from the sidelines.

He was known simply as The Architect.

The founder of the Global Alliance. The one who had orchestrated the end of World War III through strategic manipulation and impossible diplomacy. An elusive being whose face was rarely seen — and yet, here he stood, or at least, his holographic presence did.

He appeared as a man in his mid-forties, though rumors claimed he was much older. His black hair was streaked faintly with silver, and his eyes glowed faintly with an amber hue — not natural, but enhanced, like someone who had long transcended human limitations.

"I see all members of the Alliance are present," the Architect’s voice reverberated through the chamber — smooth, calm, and chillingly commanding. "Good. Then we may begin."

Every family head instinctively straightened their posture.

"You’re the one who called this?" Aurelian Dorne asked, tone respectful but firm. "If so then why is the patriarch of the Alexander Family not here?"

"That’s because I gave him a separate and special mission for the sake of the Alliance" The Architect replied as he seemed to glance at Franklin. After hearing that, Aurelian then said.

"Then let’s not waste time. Speak."

After that,the Architect’s holographic gaze then swept across them all before settling on Aurelian. "I called this meeting because the equilibrium we fought to create after the war is now in danger."

He paused. The air seemed to still completely.

"The danger," he continued, "comes from an ancient relic resurfacing in your territory — the God Crystal."

A murmur rippled through the room. Even these titans of power couldn’t conceal their reactions.

Lady Carmilla Helion leaned forward, intrigued. "The God Crystal... I thought it was a myth — one of those pre-war legends buried with the old cultivator sects."

The Architect shook his head. "No myth. The God Crystal is very real — a condensed core of divine energy capable of altering the balance between mortals and gods. The ancient cultivators used fragments of it to forge worlds and rewrite reality itself. Its reappearance in this age is... catastrophic."

Darius Silvercrest’s eyes narrowed. "I did here from my men that such a crystal was spotted in this state, but I really thought such a thing was a myth"

The Architect’s eyes glowed faintly brighter. "That," he said, "is why you were all summoned. One of your own — a mortal reincarnated soldier named Hutton Maxwell — has come into possession of this relic. His actions have already disturbed the natural energy flow in multiple regions."

’He’s a reincarnated soldier?’

At the mention of the name, Aurelian Dorne’s hands clenched subtly beneath the table. Lord Franklin’s expression darkened immediately, his irritation blending into disbelief.

"Maxwell... again?" Franklin muttered. "I have had my fair share of confrontation with that bastard — and I also heard that he’s the one behind the Blinding Town incident and is now a wanted man?"

"Correct," the Architect confirmed, his tone grave. "And the aftermath of that encounter Hutton had with that crystal has already drawn attention from the higher powers — both celestial and infernal. If the God Crystal remains in mortal hands much longer, the next war won’t be between nations..."

He leaned forward slightly, his amber eyes glowing ominously.

"...It will be between realms."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Every head of every family — even the fierce Aurelian Dorne — felt the gravity of those words.

"Then tell us," Aurelian finally said, his voice low and sharp as a blade. "What do you propose?"

The Architect’s lips curved faintly, almost into a smile.

"A united pursuit," he said. "For the first time since the war’s end, the World Class and Super Families in this region must move as one. The God Crystal must be retrieved — no matter the cost."

And with that, his holographic form began to fade, leaving behind an echoing hum — and the haunting weight of his final words.

"Whoever holds the Crystal... holds the fate of this world."

The lights flickered once, and silence reigned.

Aurelian Dorne’s eyes gleamed with cold purpose.

"Then it’s settled," he said quietly, rising from his chair. "Hutton Maxwell will die — and the God Crystal will return to its rightful place. Luckily, I knew just the place he might be"

Hearing that, everyone’s interest was instantly piqued.

And so, the hunt for Hutton Maxwell had just gotten a lot more dangerous.