Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 408: Overseers and Atlanta’s Resolve

So yeah, it hit different now. The Origin Families weren't just some big-name powerhouses pulling strings behind the scenes or flexing wealth like old-money gods—they were protectors. Hardcore, blood-sworn, magic-wielding protectors. And not for glory or some divine reward, but because someone had to fucking do it.

They didn't just overlord the mundane world… they carried it.

That truth sat in the room like heat.

Atalanta, still quiet at the edge of the gathering, exhaled sharply—like she was forcing the weight off her chest. Her eyes were distant, but her mind was cutting sharp.

The Ether Community had done more for humanity than the gods ever did.

The ones she worshipped? Respected? Served?

They sat in their golden thrones, mouths full of wine, eyes full of boredom—watching. Always watching. Playing chess with mortals for entertainment. Summoning champions just to see how long they'd last. Never to protect. Never to actually fix anything. And now?

Now those same cowardly gods had the audacity to trigger the end of the world. This world. The one they were supposed to guard.

Why?

Because they couldn't face their own past sins?

Because they were too scared to be held accountable?

Pathetic.

Atalanta's jaw clenched, fists curling at her sides. She was a warrior. Always had been. Built for battle. Built for honor.

She'd made her decision.

Fuck Olympus.

She was staying here—with the ones they called monsters. The ones the gods had labeled villains, when in truth? These so-called villains had done more saving than all the divine clowns she once kneeled to. The Ether Community bled for Earth in silence while Olympus played drama queens in the sky.

No more pretending.

Parker, on the other hand, wasn't stewing. He was done stewing.

He'd already made up his mind the moment he found out the whole truth—when he saw what Olympus had done, how far they'd gone.

"When I'm done planting all the protections around the cores," he had said, voice cool but slicing, "I'm going to rip Olympus apart."

No hesitation.

Not a damn shred of mercy in that promise.

He turned, glancing over the room, locking eyes with the rest of the leaders. "Alright," he said. "We've covered the Zhangs, the Dravens, and the Shadowmires."

He leaned forward a little.

"What about the rest of you?"

The ones who hadn't spoken yet.

"What's your role in the world?"

Time to lay all the cards on the table.

Parker didn't even have to repeat the question. One by one, the remaining families began stepping forward. The energy shifted again—this time with a certain calm authority, like people finally ready to let the truth breathe.

First up were the Kingswells.

Elves. Regal as fuck. Perfect posture, subtle flex. Like they were born in silk and whispered in binary.

Aziel Kingswell, sleek in his high-collared obsidian coat and that permanent "I'm five moves ahead" face, spoke with that usual soft precision. freёnovelkiss.com

"We rule the Digital Empire, Your Highness!" he said, like it was a damn fact of nature. And it was.

Elves had always been smarter than everyone else. Not just IQ-smart—reality smart. Arcane coders, aesthetic manipulators, long-game thinkers. They didn't just understand tech—they were tech. Walking neural networks with cheekbones.

"Our domain touches every screen, every signal, every stream of information," Aziel continued. "From the NeuralNet Realms to the Crystal-Data Trees. We built the Mirror Media Circles, the ones feeding humanity the lie that supernaturals are fiction. And the EverSignal Archives? Yeah. That's us. Making sure no government stumbles into portals they shouldn't."

NeuralNet Realm Tech. Crystal-Data Trees. Mirror Media Circles that pumped out illusion after illusion, feeding billions of humans the same comforting lie on loop—that supernaturals didn't exist, that gods were myths, and that the monsters in their bedtime stories were just creative trauma.

They built fiction factories and turned them into gospel. Every pixel. Every whisper. Every broadcast.

Crafted to keep the truth wrapped in entertainment.

And then there was the EverSignal Archives—deep, buried code running across satellite webs and underground fiber veins. It didn't just hide information.

It rewrote it.

Made sure no government, no rogue algorithm, no overeager genius stumbled onto portals, artifacts, or data trails that could expose the real shape of the universe. The moment something weird got caught on a camera? EverSignal reached back through the timeline and made it vanish.

They weren't just tech moguls. They weren't hackers. They were the whisperers of code and light—the elves of the Digital Empire. Silent architects of perception. Reality benders with keyboards and divine interfaces. And the world danced to the rhythm of the signals they wrote.

Tessa whistled low. "So y'all the reason Netflix's magic shows suck?"

Aziel didn't even flinch. "Exactly, Young Queen." Tessas smiled.

They were the Whisperers of Code and Light. The ones who made sure the Earth's digital skin stayed smooth and oblivious.

Then the Ravencrofts stepped forward, draped in power like velvet on fire.

Evelyn Ravencroft moved with that controlled grace, all sharp edges and charm laced with threat. She didn't need to raise her voice—her aura did the talking.

"We run the Economic Machine," she said, eyes glinting with that witchcraft glimmer. "Finance, real estate, retail, raw resources. All of it."

Witches had always been about the deal. Calculated, ruthless, seductive in a way that made you sign your soul away without realizing. They weren't bankers—they were binders. Magic in ink, gold sealed in blood, contracts that didn't just break bones—they cursed lineages.

"Our domains are the Gilded Circles, like House of Hex & Holdings, The Pentacle Banks. We bless, we curse, we invest. If money moves, it breathes through our covens."

She gave a smirk. "The Enchantresses of Wealth and Will."

Maya grinned behind her like she'd just auctioned off a kingdom and got bored with it.

Last came the Voidhowls.

No theatrics. No glitter. Just weight.

Alpha Marrek Voidhowl the second in command of the tired Robert, stepped forward like a walking mountain. Eyes cold. Shoulders wide. Voice like cracked stone. "We govern the Survival Core."

Wolves were raw. Primal. They didn't need aesthetics. They were the backbone. Health, energy, agriculture—the things people forget to worship until they lose them.

"Our domain holds the Howling Energy Barracks, Bloodroot Farms, the Solar Permacy. We handle food, healing, and power. Physical and spiritual. We bleed for the world so others don't have to."

It was simple. Brutal. Necessary.

They weren't here to talk. They were here to guard.

The room settled as everyone took it in.

Parker crossed his arms and nodded.

It was so damn clear now.

The Origin Families weren't just some hidden dynasty flexing power in secret.

They were the invisible infrastructure holding the world upright.

While humans fought over nonsense, while gods looked down with pride and laziness, it was these families—these so-called monsters, villains, shadows—who actually kept shit from falling apart.

And Parker?

He was the one tying them all together.

Parker was there, arms folded, eyes drifting over the people who'd just laid out the hidden map of the world like it was a damn board game. And now? Now he got it. Fully.

He wasn't just looking at powerhouses.

He was looking at the architects of Earth. The ones who ran the very gears that kept the planet from slipping into chaos. They were protectors, silencers, code whisperers, financial witches, elemental warlords—and all of them, without a doubt, his. That realization didn't overwhelm him. Shit, it made things easier.

With them, he didn't need to do everything himself. He just needed to move fast.

Because with this kind of lineup? Eliminating threats was the easy part. The real flex? Building the empire that oversaw Earth. Tomorrow, he had a meeting to acquire another real estate company—big name, massive reach. Under any normal hand, it'd be a solid asset.

But under the Ravencrofts?

That thing would thrive. It would expand like it had magic pumped into its blood, which, technically, it would. Parker had no equal—no rival, no actual competition—when it came to owning mundane assets now. The game was rigged in his favor, and everyone else was still playing checkers while he was out here rewriting the damn rulebook.

[You never know, there might be forces that try to step in your way.] Levi piped up in his head, sweet and eerie as always.

Parker nodded slightly. "Let them try."

Because the empire wasn't just real estate. There was still the entertainment and tech sector—currently incomplete, but not for long. He had the Kingswells for that. The Digital Empire was waiting. Code, data, illusion—they'd build something untouchable.

"The faster I do this," he said aloud, mostly to himself, "the faster my creations can assume their full forms."

Because that was the real endgame.

Each of them—his people, his bloodlines—were still held back by something. Something subtle. Like they were half-loaded files waiting for the install to finish. Once Earth was stabilized, once the cores were protected, whatever was blocking them from reaching using their full potential on the fragile Earth would be strong enough to hold, let's say if Julian for example woke up in mood of assuming his full forms, and then the space won't crack.

He could feel that time coming!