Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 321: Frozen Exi...

He stayed there. Right in the open. Rain pounding like it had a personal grudge. Like the whole damn sky decided to pick him as its punching bag. And he let it. Let it rage. Let it slap his face, sting his skin—like that'd somehow even the score. As if the universe could beat him worse than he already did to himself.

Water pooled at his sandals, soaking through everything. The forest didn't move. Not a branch, not a leaf. Just watched, real still, like even nature knew better than to interrupt a man losing his last thread. Not tonight.

His fists unclenched—wetness clinging like guilt that just wouldn't wash off. His jaw locked. Eyes glassy, staring at nothing and everything. That look on his face? Calm. But the kind of calm that makes people take a step back. The kind that says, "I've smiled through worse… and I'm smiling now."

He wasn't crying, okay? Let's be clear. Parker didn't cry. Nah, the storm was just doing a really dramatic impersonation. But if someone—God forbid someone—got close enough, they'd hear the breath he didn't mean to hitch. See the way his shoulders dropped, just a second. Like he finally realized—everything that had happened to Chione… maybe it was his fault.

Maybe all of it.

And in that moment, something inside gave way, and something colder stepped in. Something with no time for guilt or apologies.

That part of him that stopped giving a shit.

That part that didn't want peace—because peace required pretending you deserved it.

He was tired of pretending. Tired of being the "good guy with trauma" package people could sympathize with. Screw that. He wasn't some misunderstood heir with daddy issues. He was a storm with a name. And tonight? He was done playing by anyone's rules, especially the gods'. Let them watch.

Tonight was the start of something else. Something worse. He didn't know what yet—but when it hit? Oh, he'd be the epicenter. The kind of presence that made angels whisper and demons check their contracts.

He stood up. Rain still crashing, shirt plastered to muscle, scars, and regrets. Hair dripping, eyes hollow. And then… he smiled.

Not the charming kind. Not the "I'm fine" kind.

That slow, wicked, movie-villain smile. The one that needs no speech because the silence screams you already lost. The one that rolls credits with blood on the frame.

And without even glancing back, Parker walked deeper into the forest. Not running. Not hiding. Just letting go.

Of guilt.

Of control.

Of the lie that he could ever be saved from the guilt of her fate, of the fact that he was enjoying this side of him that wanted nothing but burn the whole world and Olympus down.

Behind him, the clearing stayed quiet. Like it knew. Knew the devil just walked through.

And next time?

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He wouldn't be walking out alone.

For the first time in... hell, he didn't even know how many lives it's been without saying it—he whispered it.

"Mother."

Yeah. That word. Soft. Real soft. Like it might shatter if he said it too loud. Like he might shatter. His lips barely moved, but the name slid out like a secret he'd kept tucked behind a thousand smirks.

Then came the others.

"E?!#… ??!?an…"

Whispers. Barely-there ghosts of voices.

He swore only they would get it. Like, really get it, deep, bone-tired, soul-wounded type of understanding that only people who've also lived like, five extra lifetimes while carrying the emotional weight of a Marvel character and a Greek tragedy... could actually grasp.

Only his siblings and mother knew what Chione meant to him. What losing her felt like. Not just a heartbreak—nah, this wasn't some "she left me on read" situation. This was... grief-level-9000. Like a black hole opened up inside his chest and decided to Airbnb his sanity.

And suddenly?

He felt like that little-ass boy in the family again. The clingy one. The one who'd sneak into his mom's room at 2 a.m. pretending he wasn't crying—just "looking for snacks" or whatever dumb excuse kids make up when their world feels like it's falling apart.

That's what he wanted now. Not food. Not glory. Not even revenge.

Just... comfort.

Warm, familiar, safe.

The kind you can't find in ancient spells or void magic or whatever edgy powers he had now. Just arms around you and someone whispering "I got you, baby."

But of course—he wasn't getting that.

Not now. Not here. Not in this cold-ass world where gods ghost you and mountains speak in riddles and love feels like a ticking time bomb strapped to your chest.

So yeah... he wanted that hug. Real bad.

He wanted to scream into a pillow and binge some trashy drama series and eat a whole cake with his bare hands. But instead, he stood there. Silent. Swallowing it all like a damn pro. Because feelings? Feelings were for when you weren't being chased by cosmic assholes with superiority complexes and names like "Az'kar the Undying Flame of Vengeance."

Seriously. Who names their kid that?

But hey, at least he still had sarcasm.

And unresolved trauma.

And that's character development, right?

From the edges of his shadow, something stirred.

Soft. Silent. Ancient.

A slow blink. Then another.

Tiny golden eyes—sharp and oddly adorable—opened in the black puddle pooling under him, stretching wider than any shadow had the right to in that much light. Ere's ears twitched as she peeled herself from the dark like silk, crawling out from beneath his soaked silhouette as if the shadow had birthed her.

She didn't speak. Not yet.

Just circled him once, tail flicking, fur untouched by the rain like the laws of nature had been told to fuck off.

Her presence grounded him.

But Levi's voice cut through the air next, soft, lazy, a whisper straight to the soul:

[Well, at least you're feeling it this time.]

Parker didn't respond.

[Usually, you're all "bury it, kill something, move on." But now? You're

in the fucking rain like some sad poet who just got ghosted by death itself. Progress, I guess.]

A humorless smile tugged at Parker's lips. "You're a dick."

[You're the one emo-lurking in a storm. I'm just the voice of reason.]

He closed his eyes. Rain slid down his jaw, heavy like guilt.

Why was this hitting so deep?

Was it just about Chione? Just the memory of her death?

...No.

It was him. His fault.

If he hadn't existed—if his very name hadn't whispered through Olympus like a fucking threat—the Big Three wouldn't have even gone after Chione. Wouldn't have gone looking for her. Hunting her.

Wouldn't have cornered her until her story ended in blood and frozen silence.

He inhaled slow. Like pain was air now.

"Does she even remember?" he asked quietly. Not to Levi. Not to Ere. Just... to the rain.

[According to what Atalanta said—she doesn't. Not all of it, anyway,] Levi replied after a pause. [She told the girls what little she claimed to know. But that's the thing, right? Chione's not the type to drop emotional bombs over brunch. She keeps shit locked. That ice of hers? It's armor.]

Parker's fingers curled again, pressing into the soaked earth beneath him.

[If she does remember, she probably didn't tell anyone. Not even her friends. Maybe especially not them. She's too smart to drag them into the Big Three's radar.]

He let that settle in. The rain slowed slightly, just enough for the trees to start breathing again. Ere nuzzled against his leg. Warm. Present. Quiet.

And still the question throbbed in his mind like a bad scar:

If she remembers everything...

Does she remember who she really is?

Does she remember what she was to him?

To the Nyxiliths.

To the fucking truth of their blood.

Because if she did—

Then the real storm hadn't even started.