I Ascend Alone-Chapter 140: Ashes of Authority

The room erupted again—not with shouting this time, but with a wave of sound. The kind that comes from an audience unsure whether to gasp, applaud, or stay silent.

Some clapped. A few stood. But most just watched, and processing.

President Vaughn didn't react right away. He simply nodded, once, slow and measured—as if acknowledging not just my words, but what they meant. What they changed.

Vice Director Crowe turned to the side, whispering something to one of her aides before straightening again, her eyes sharp behind the flicker of data from her temple band.

Agent Hale gave a small exhale through his nose, a ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth.

Then came the wrap-up.

"That's all for now," Vaughn said, taking the mic again. "The Hunter Association will release additional statements and documents regarding new policy implications of National-Level designations over the coming weeks."

He turned slightly, hand resting behind his back. "This moment is a turning point—for us all. And Ryzen Kael is at the center of it."

The screens dimmed to black.

The broadcast cut.

And just like that, it was over.

-

Backstage, the quiet was thicker than any crowd noise.

Hale approached first, handing me a sealed datachip. "You'll want this. It's got summaries of everything the global networks have said about you in the last twelve hours. Spoiler: it's a lot."

I slipped it into my pocket without comment.

Crowe stood nearby, arms folded.

"You held back," she said simply.

"From what?" I asked.

"From saying more. You could've named terms. Claimed leverage. The entire Hunter system is reeling right now—if you'd pushed harder, they'd have bent."

I met her gaze. "That's not what I came here for."

Her expression didn't soften, but her tone did. "No. I suppose it isn't."

President Vaughn approached next.

He held out a hand.

I took it.

"You've earned this title, Ryzen," he said. "But you've also inherited every eye in the world. That weight doesn't go away."

"I know."

"You'll be contacted by international offices within the week. Some will offer support. Others won't."

"I'm used to that too."

Vaughn gave a brief, unreadable smile. "Then let's hope for the best"

He left with his security team, the doors sealing behind them.

It was just me, Hale, and the sound of distant reporters being ushered from the premises.

-

As we exited into the afternoon light, I didn't speak.

I didn't need to.

The wind had picked up again—gentle, cool, brushing against the edges of a world still adjusting.

City-A stretched out before us. Wounded. Alive.

Rebuilding.

Hale broke the silence after a few steps. "You did good in there."

"I didn't do it for them."

"I know," he said. "That's why it mattered."

We reached the edge of the plaza. A transport waited—sleek, black, unmarked.

But before I could step inside, I saw Ahn Mirae.

Leaning casually against the railing, watching everything with sharp eyes and that familiar weight of someone who'd fought and lost and learned how to carry both.

She raised an eyebrow as I approached. "So... national hunter, huh?"

I shrugged. "Apparently."

"You sound thrilled."

"It's been a long week."

She snorted softly and fell into step beside me.

"Where to now?" she asked.

I looked out toward the horizon, where the skyline broke around scars of the battle. Where the world beyond City-A waited, full of questions even I didn't have answers for yet.

And I said, "Let's find out."

-

Mirae and I walked side by side, our footsteps echoing faintly across the stone plaza. The sleek black car waited just ahead, polished like obsidian and humming with quiet energy. Its surface reflected the fractured skyline, the aftermath of battle etched into every silent pane of glass.

As we neared, I could feel it—that tension right before something shifts. Not danger. Not quite.

Anticipation.

Then, without a word, the rear passenger door clicked open from the inside.

And there he was.

Leon.

Sitting in the back seat, one arm resting casually along the top of the seat, the other draped over a thermos of what was probably that awful coffee he insisted was "an acquired taste." His coat was rumpled, his boots dusted from the road, and his face—

His face was unreadable for half a breath, then broke into a slow, crooked smile.

"Took you long enough," he said.

Mirae blinked. "You're here?"

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Leon raised a brow. "Well yeah. Did you really think I was going to miss the post-battle fallout party? You didn't even invite me to the press conference."

I let out a breath that was half a laugh. "You hate press."

"I hate boring press," he corrected, lifting the thermos to take a sip. "This one was bound to be dramatic. You, on a stage, dropping truth bombs? How could I resist?"

Mirae crossed her arms. "You could've said something earlier."

Leon looked at her, then at me, eyes settling with something deeper behind the sarcasm. "Didn't want to steal the spotlight. Today was yours."

That landed heavier than the rest.

Without a word, I stepped forward and slid into the car beside him. Mirae hesitated a moment, then followed, settling in opposite.

The door closed with a soft thud, sealing us in a cocoon of tinted silence.

Leon glanced out the window. "So. National Hunter. What now?"

I looked ahead, the city unfolding before us like a battlefield caught between ruin and rebirth.

"I don't know yet," I said. "But we're not done."

He nodded, smile fading into something calmer. "Then wherever you're headed... count me in."

Mirae leaned back, stretching slightly. "You're both impossible."

Leon smirked. "And yet here you are."

The car pulled away from the plaza, merging into the secure lane as we left the Hunter Association behind.

Outside, the world was still watching.