Morning arrived quietly.
Birds chirped beyond the tall windows, their songs soft and untroubled. Sunlight slipped into the room, brushing polished marble and silk curtains. It was the kind of peaceful morning normal people cherished.
For Michael, it was just another step on a path paved with revenge.
He slowly opened his eyes, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. A royal bedroom—lavish, spacious, and suffocating in its luxury.
A week ago, he had slept beneath a tattered roof, counting cracks above his head. Now he lay in a palace.
Life truly loved its twists.
He sat up on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, and released a slow breath.
"Until a week ago, I lived under broken tiles," he thought. "Now I wake up surrounded by gold and silk. Life really doesn't lack irony."
His gaze hardened.
"But one day… I'll make this world laugh. I'll make it smile. And if that dream demands sacrifices—then I'll give them. As many as it takes."
He raised his hand.
"Status."
A translucent screen unfolded before his eyes.
Core Combat Stats
Strength: 61
Agility: 51
Endurance: 52
Vitality: 55
Offensive Power
Base Attack Power: 122
Ability Amplification: 112%
Elemental Affinity (Black Essence): 27.5%
Critical Force: 56.0
Effective Damage (per strike): 272.95
Defensive Power
Damage Resistance: 36.4%
Corruption Resistance: 15.6%
Mental Fortitude: 15.6%
Regeneration Rate: 11.0%
HP: 550
Essence & Ability Growth
Black Essence Capacity: 0 / 8000
Essence Absorption Rate: 56 BEU/sec
Lotus Synchronization: 8.33%
Petal Stage: 2 / 24
Michael stared at the numbers in silence.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, he slid the screen away.
Displeasure seeped into his chest like slow-burning poison.
Another image surfaced in his mind.
Rajendra Vellory.
The Hammer-Saint.
Untouchable.
Overwhelming.
Absolute.
Michael clenched his jaw.
"With stats like these," he muttered, "I won't get my revenge. Not against this damned world… and definitely not against him."
Resolve sharpened his eyes.
"I need to grow stronger. Much stronger."
His gaze shifted back to the interface as he tapped the petal icon.
[Next Petal Stage: 93:36:48…47…46…]
[Next Petal Stage Requirement: 8000 BEUs]
His lips curled slightly.
"I can't afford to move at this pace. Harvesting Black Essence slowly just to unlock petals won't cut it."
The thought darkened.
"I need more essence. Faster. Stronger."
Which meant only one thing.
"Hunting," he whispered.
"Interstellar habitats—again and again. As many as I can find."
A knock echoed through the room.
Firm. Respectful.
Michael rose from the bed and walked to the door. When he opened it, two royal guards stood outside, armor gleaming under the light.
Two royal guards stood outside, heads bowed.
"Young Master," one said respectfully, "the Hammer Council requests your presence. Please excuse the urgency."
Michael's expression remained calm.
"Understood."
The guards bowed once more and departed.
As the door closed, Michael exhaled sharply.
"Now what are those bastards scheming?"
"Definitely nothing good."
He dressed quickly and strode through the long palace corridors, his footsteps echoing against marble floors.
The doors to the royal meeting hall opened before him.
Inside, the weight of power was suffocating.
He saw familiar faces immediately.
Aravindan Velkar, Hammer of Silence.
Rudra Shakthiraya, Hammer of War.
Samrat Rathore.
Varuna Khuraar.
Devashish Aarin.
Jai Singh Senapathi.
The same figures who had judged him on his first day.
But there were others now.
Unfamiliar. Watching him closely.
Suddenly, two figures approached him in sync.
"Welcome again, Young Master," they said together.
"It has been over fifteen years since you ran away from the palace. At least… you are back."
One of them tilted his head slightly.
"Though it is unfortunate to hear that you lived among those outcast slums."
Both shook their heads in shared disdain.
Something twisted inside Michael—but he said nothing.
"Excuse us," they added casually before leaving him and rejoining the council.
Michael stood still.
"Who the hell are they?"
Footsteps approached from behind.
He turned.
Vikram Vellory.
His stepbrother—at least in Michael's eyes.
To the rest of the world, they were simply brothers.
Michael grinned and casually slung an arm over Vikram's shoulder, leaning his full weight onto him.
"Oi, little dick," Michael teased,
"who were those guys? Never seen them before."
Vikram's face twitched with irritation. He tried to shove Michael off—but failed.
"What the fuck…? "Vikram thought.
"We're both C-rank… but this strength—
This is close to B-rank!"
Giving up, he spoke through clenched teeth.
"The one who greeted you—the man in the long black coat with iron plating—is Mahavir Kalvaar. Hammer of Judgment. House Kalvaar. He controls jurisdiction, courts, punishments."
He continued,
"If our father makes the law—he is the law."
Michael listened silently.
"The masked one, dressed in pure black… no words?" Vikram said quietly.
"That's Devadatt Tejraksh. Hammer of Shadow. House Tejraksh. He handles assassinations—traitors, spies, enemies of the dominion."
Michael's eyes narrowed.
"And the man in the formal suit," Vikram added with a smirk,
"is Raghunath Dhruvaayan. Hammer of Stability. Resources, logistics, population control."
He paused, enjoying the moment.
"Oh—and one more thing.
He's the one who suggested using outcasts as scapegoats during missions."
Michael's glare sharpened like a blade.
Raghunath noticed—but did not flinch.
Instead, he bowed politely and turned away, speaking to others as if Michael were nothing more than a child.
Michael clenched his jaw.
"What about their ranks?" he asked.
Vikram scoffed. "Ranks? They don't have any."
"What?" Michael frowned. "Why?"
"Because they aren't part of C.O.S.M.O.S,"
Vikram replied.
"Only those affiliated with C.O.S.M.O.S receive ranks."
Michael froze.
"Then the Hammer Saint has a rank…"
"That means—?"
"Yes," Vikram nodded. "Father is affiliated with C.O.S.M.O.S."
"Why?" Michael pressed.
Vikram shrugged, confused.
"Who knows? Only he does."
Michael's thoughts spiraled.
C.O.S.M.O.S…
The ones responsible for my mother's death.
And he—
He threw her away like garbage—
A sudden realization struck him like lightning.
What if…
Before he could finish the thought—
The doors opened.
Arjun Vellory entered the hall.
Every single person bowed immediately.
Vikram bowed too—and yanked Michael down with him.
Michael bent—but his eyes burned.
Inside his mind, his voice was ice-cold.
I wanted to kill you for abandoning me and my mother.
But if I find out you had any role in her death…
I will kill you.
On this land.
And in hell.
Arjun Vellory took his seat at the head of the round table.
One by one, the members of the Hammer Council followed, each settling into their designated positions—power made flesh, authority carved into posture and presence.
Vikram and Michael, however, remained standing.
They were given seats, but not at the table.
Placed deliberately away from it.
Close enough to observe.
Far enough to remind them—You do not belong here.
Michael noticed.
He always noticed.
The meeting began.
Aravindan Velkar rose slowly, his presence immediately commanding silence.
"My warm regards to everyone present," he said calmly. "As you are all aware, our Hammer Saint has achieved a feat that no human—across the entire world—has ever accomplished."
A ripple of excitement spread through the hall.
Pride. Awe. Fear.
Vikram's chest swelled visibly.
Michael, however, listened with absolute seriousness.
Velkar continued, "Yes. The first human to enter SS Rank."
The hall buzzed louder.
"Therefore," Velkar said, "I propose we arrange a grand festival in celebration of the Hammer Saint's ascension."
Most of the council nodded instantly.
But not everyone.
The puppet nobles—faces stiff, smiles forced—clearly struggled to swallow the words.
Then a voice cut through the air.
"Well," Devashish Aarin said carefully, "that would not align with the Order of the Hammer. Such a feat should be celebrated by C.O.S.M.O.S itself. Wouldn't this imply that we making an independent organization getting involved with the Order's domain?"
Silence fell.
Aravindan Velkar turned his head slowly.
The glare he gave Devashish was not loud.
Not dramatic.
It was worse.
Cold. Measuring. Disgusted.
Devashish felt his throat tighten.
Why did I speak…?
Velkar answered calmly, "Of course."
Devashish blinked.
"That," Velkar continued, "is precisely why we should celebrate."
Confusion spread across the room—including Michael.
Velkar clasped his hands behind his back.
"Bringing C.O.S.M.O.S under the celebratory authority of the Order of the Hammer—within the Indravana Dominion—when no other dominion has dared to do so…"
A thin smile appeared.
"…will elevate our dominion's standing among all others."
Realization dawned.
"And more importantly," Velkar added, "it will send a message."
A message of power.
A warning.
Mahavir Kalvaar spoke next, his voice heavy and deliberate.
"And what of the Founder of C.O.S.M.O.S?"
"He does not appreciate being drawn into the affairs of the Order."
Velkar did not hesitate.
"Do not concern yourself with that."
Mahavir frowned slightly. "You are confident?"
Velkar's eyes hardened.
"He will not object."
The hall went completely silent.
Even breathing felt loud.
Michael's instincts screamed.
Something is wrong.
This isn't celebration.
This is bait.
Velkar broke the silence.
"The celebration will commence the day after tomorrow."
Michael narrowed his eyes.
There was something beneath the surface.
Layers within layers.
Velkar then turned toward the head of the table.
"Commander," he said, addressing Arjun Vellory.
"What is your opinion?"
All eyes shifted.
Arjun Vellory leaned back slightly.
"Do as you wish," he said plainly.
No approval.
No resistance.
Just indifference.
Velkar nodded. "Then it is finalized."
He clapped his hands once.
"Let us reconvene at the celebration."
The meeting dissolved.
Council members rose and departed—some with smiles, some with clenched fists, others with eyes burning in silent rage.
Pride. Doubt. Displeasure. Schemes.
All of it lingered in the air.
Michael remained seated.
His gaze followed the departing figures.
A celebration where too many people benefit…
And too many enemies gather…
His lips curved faintly.
Blood will spill.