Demonic Po*nstar System

Chapter 759: Divine Light

Lazarus Crane, the man the world feared as Old Crane, Guildmaster of the Crimson Dominion, one of the only three guilds given the ’high-tier’ designation in the United States of America, was watching a stream.

He was doing this from his couch.

In sweatpants.

Surrounded by beer bottles.

His username was Divine Light. His daughter had made the account for him after he’d spent forty minutes trying to figure out the process, and she’d chosen the name herself because - in her words - ’irony builds character.’ Lazarus hadn’t understood what she meant by that and still didn’t.

On the screen projected by his interface, a petite woman with purple hair screamed down from the sky with a crackling blade above her head and buried it through the skull of a level 78 Granite Tyrant that had been alive for longer than most nations.

Forty-one seconds. Start to finish.

Lazarus reached for his beer, found it empty, and opened a new bottle without looking.

He remembered the first time he’d stumbled onto this group. Months ago, late at night, couldn’t sleep, scrolling through the platform the way old men scroll through things they don’t fully understand. And he landed on a random group of ragtag eccentric youngsters who were cooking monster meat on the platform almost exclusively used to stream awakened combat.

The old man had by far the most fun watching awakened streams that night. And the Sinners kept delivering ever since.

But back then, they were just a low-level party made up of beginners with lackluster classes, struggling against a Silverback Mauler that any competent team would’ve handled in seconds. The footage was rough, the tactics were rougher, and the kid leading them had been an F-tier nobody whose only real remarkable quality as a combatant was that he refused to die when the universe clearly wanted him to.

Yet Lazarus was watching their streams whenever he could, rooting for these hopeless rookies to somehow make the reckless gambits they were taking on.

And now, a couple months later, those same kids had just killed a level 78 apex predator in under a minute, becoming a team that fought like a single organism.

Lazarus’s fist coiled against his knee.

’Three months,’ he thought. ’Three months and they went from nearly dying to a Silverback to this.’

It couldn’t be denied now. A new player had emerged on the stage and risen to relevancy at a speed that made veteran guild leaders look like they’d been standing still. The anomaly. The kid Vespera Ashborn had hidden from the world for years, now standing at the head of his own guild with his mother as his regent.

The anomaly and the Shadow Monarch, teaming up.

A grin spread across the old man’s face. Wide, toothy, and completely at odds with the beer-stained sweatpants.

”How exciting...” he murmured.

The front door opened.

Lazarus didn’t need to look. The click of heels against hardwood was distinctive enough, as was the brief, suffocating silence that always preceded his daughter’s commentary on his preferred living conditions.

Viera stopped at the edge of the living room. Hip-length black hair, mirrored shades despite it being morning, a suit so crisp it could’ve filed its own tax return. She surveyed the beer bottles, the couch cushion indentation that had become a permanent geological feature, and the man responsible for all of it.

”Guild Master,” she said.

”My beloved daughter, the gem of my life.” Lazarus sighed. ”Why don’t you speak to Papa in a more loving tone?”

”It’s 8 AM and your living room smells like a brewery that lost its liquor license.” She removed her shades and folded them into her breast pocket. Mechanically. Because the alternative was screaming. ”There are seven bottles on the floor. I’m choosing not to count the ones behind the couch.”

”I was working.”

Viera’s expression didn’t change, but her look sharpened the way it always did when her father tested the boundaries of language.

”Working,” she repeated.

”Scouting.” Lazarus gestured at the screen she couldn’t even see with his now empty bottle. ”Active intelligence gathering on an emerging threat to the national guild landscape. Critical strategic analysis.”

”You’re watching a stream in your underwear.”

”Scouting duties require no uniforms.”

Viera clasped her hands behind her back. ”You have fourteen unread priority messages from the guild council, a quarterly review that was due yesterday, and a diplomatic memo from the Association that Grace personally flagged as urgent. I’ve been trying to reach you for thirty minutes.”

”Papa wants his break.”

”If Papa is incapable of conducting his duties, then he should resign.”

Lazarus whimpered.

Viera was not softened by the misery of her father. Her eyes turned even colder, her expression full of judgment.

Lazarus scratched his beard. ”I’ll get to it.”

”You’ll do it now.”

”Give me five more minutes.”

Viera studied him for a long moment. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

Lazarus narrowed his gaze. ”What are you doing?”

”Since my father refuses to work and is thus bottlenecking my duties as well, I find myself with a free evening.” She tapped the screen. ”I’ve been meaning to try one of those dating applications.”

”...”

”Oh, this one seems popular.” Her thumb scrolled with the same efficient precision she applied to everything. ”Let me just register quickly.”

Lazarus sat up. ”Viera.”

”Done. Profile created.” She turned the phone toward him. A man’s profile filled the screen. Shirtless, cigarette dangling from his lip, flexing a bicep that had a swastika tattoo on it. His bio read: Only interested in bitches who know their place. Must be good at cooking. Only virgins. Having daddy issues is preferred.

”Interesting. I have a lot of issues with the man who spawned me, so I guess I’m fitting at least three of his criteria.” Viera said, her voice clinically neutral. ”He seems like a man of conviction. I think I can fix him.”

Lazarus was on his feet.

”Give me that phone.”

”He’s already sent a message. He says ’Bored, bitch? Come over to my crib.’ with four winking emojis and a grammatical error.”

”Viera Crane, you will delete that application this instant!”

”Why?” She’d been managing this man since she was old enough to hold a clipboard. The patience was ancient. ”There’s no work to do.”

Lazarus’s mouth opened. Closed. His red gaze burned. His own daughter dared do this to him.

Betrayal of the highest order.

He shut off the stream.

”...Fine. Pull up the council messages.”

”And the quarterly review?”

”And the quarterly review.”

”And Grace’s memo?”

”Yes, all of it!”

Viera pocketed her phone. The dating app had never actually been installed. The profile she’d shown him was a screenshot she kept saved for exactly this purpose.

”Your coffee will be ready in two minutes,” she said, already walking toward the kitchen. ”Black, no sugar. Try to find your pants. We’re going to the HQ.”

...

Deep inside the Howling Abyss, one of the most dangerous dungeons on the East Coast, Raziel and Evangeline of the Radiant Order, the final high-tier guild alongside New Dawn and Crimson Dominion, sat on a ledge overlooking a cavern filled with the dissolving corpses of creatures that had been alive five minutes ago.

The dungeon was halfway cleared. Their strike team rested below, medics rotating through the wounded, supplies being redistributed for the deeper floors. Standard procedure. Raziel and Evangeline could have pressed forward without rest. They chose to wait because their people needed it, and because both of them had pulled up their interfaces the moment the break was called.

They sat side by side. Close, watching their own displays, their own angles, their own replays.

Neither spoke for a while.

Evangeline broke the silence first. ”Forty-one seconds.”