Lucian stood perfectly still as fireballs and streaks of explosive light rained toward the yacht, painting the night sky in violent shades of orange and red. Panic tore through the crowd. Screams rose and fell like waves. People clutched each other, ducked and prayed.
But Lucian did not flinch.
A holographic interface shimmered to life above his wrist, projected from the watch he wore. His fingers moved through the air, precise and swift, dancing across the three-dimensional screen as though he were conducting a symphony only he could hear.
In less than a millisecond, a dark sphere erupted from the watch and shot into the sky. It split apart—one into dozens, dozens into hundreds—each tiny black orb racing toward an incoming threat. One by one, the fireballs and firecrackers were swallowed whole; consumed. Then they burst into soft white ash and drifted back down like snow. Rainind down the yacht.
It was breathtaking but impossible.
The guests stood frozen, hands pressed to their chests, relief flooding through them in shuddering waves. Every second of it played out live on camera, captured by the reporters and television presenters who were still broadcasting, still recording, still trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.
Lucian let the silence stretch before he spoke.
"Did you really think I would kill you live on television?" His voice was quiet, almost gentle, as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I am not a killer. I am a visionary. And a manufacturer."
He reached down and unclasped the watch from his wrist, lifting it between two fingers so the yacht's lights caught every precise detail of its design. The room was deathly quiet now.
"This device," he continued, his voice carrying effortlessly through the silence, "is the Void Bloom Protocol."
He flicked his fingers, and the hologram bloomed to life above him once more, vast and intricate, a constellation of data suspended in the air.
"Predictive Threat Intelligence."
Golden trajectories traced themselves across the holographic sky, mapping the paths of every fireball that had descended upon them.
"Every incoming object is tracked, calculated, and understood before it ever becomes a threat."
The guests watched, spellbound, as the paths replayed in glowing arcs.
"Micro-Singularity Swarm."
The black spheres materialized again in the hologram—dozens, then hundreds, moving with terrifying precision.
"No missiles or explosives. It's just controlled physics. Each unit pursues, envelopes, and isolates its target independently."
He closed his hand slightly, and the hologram responded.
"Energy Absorption and Nullification."
A fireball appeared, blazing and violent. Then a sphere took it, swallowed it, and the fire collapsed inward—silent, absolute, extinguished.
"Kinetic energy, thermal energy—all converted, neutralized, and returned as inert matter."
He made a soft gesture, and the white particles drifted downward again, just as they had in reality moments ago.
"Zero collateral damage," Lucian said, his voice quieter now but no less certain. "Not to the surroundings. Not to the people. Not even to the air you breathe."
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the crowd—executives, reporters, investors, all suspended between awe and disbelief.
"Autonomous and instantaneous. From detection to neutralization..." He snapped his fingers. The sound echoed. "Under a millisecond."
The hologram collapsed back into the watch with a pulse of light.
"And all of it..." He raised his wrist slightly, turning it so everyone could see. "Fits here."
A pause. Then his voice softened, carrying a weight that had nothing to do with technology.
"Void Bloom Protocol is not a weapon. It is a shield. For our soldiers. For our families. For ourselves." His gaze hardened, scanning the room with a quiet, serious intensity. "A world where protection is intelligent. Where destruction is prevented before it even begins."
He slipped the watch back onto his wrist.
"And where peace..." A slight tilt of his head. "...is engineered." He let the words settle deep into the silence. "This is my gift to Crestfall. Unfortunately, it is not for sale."
No one spoke.
The sting of fear still lingered in the air, heavy and cold. But when Lucian shifted fully into his business presence, when he presented this impossible, majestic device with such calm conviction, something else rippled through the crowd. Hope. Genuine, unfamiliar, overwhelming hope.
Politicians and senators exchanged glances, their expressions full of something they had not felt in a long time. Pride.
This could not be the mafia boss they had heard about. The man they had feared. Men like that did not offer protection, hope.
They did not offer love to the people they were meant to prey upon. And yet, standing before them, Lucian Throne had just done all three.
His eyes found the bald reporter in the crowd.
"Did I answer your question?"
The reporter nodded, wordless.
Across the room, Adrian kept his face carefully blank. If he felt jealousy, he did not show it.
But the truth sat heavy in his chest. Lucian was as intelligent as he was. Maybe more. This was exactly the kind of mind, the kind of brilliance, that would be perfect for launching AUDO.
But suspicion coiled around the thought and tightened. With intelligence like this, Lucian should have understood AUDO perfectly well just from the files Lazarus had sent him for the pitch meeting—the meeting he had so emphatically refused. So why was he interested now? The question circled through Adrian's mind, unanswered and gnawing.
Someone else was carrying questions too. Mr. Jackson stood apart from the crowd, his aged eyes fixed on Lucian with an intensity that bordered on reverence. He had been David's friend—his closest, his longest. They had grown up together, two boys with scraped knees and endless curiosity. Even as a child, David had been different. He had explored everything—taking apart radios just to understand their secrets, sketching circuits in the margins of his schoolbooks, dreaming of becoming the greatest electronics engineer the world had ever seen. But as he grew older, his mind refused to be contained. It wandered beyond electronics, into technology, into architecture, into everything. David had been a touch of everything. And now, looking at Lucian, Mr. Jackson felt the past pressing against his chest like a ghost. The same brilliance, the same fire. This was David reborn. And just like Adrian, the boy looked more like David than David ever had.
His legs carried him forward before his mind could decide. He moved through the crowd toward Lucian, who stood with his head bent close to Peter's, whispering something quiet and private. But just as Mr. Jackson drew near, Lucian stepped away and made his way toward the podium to speak.
Peter turned, his expression polite but guarded, and found the old man's gaze still lingering on Lucian's retreating figure.
"Can I help you?" Peter asked.
"Yes." Mr. Jackson's voice was quiet, steady. "I want him."
Peter blinked, his brow furrowing slightly. "Oh. For what, if I may ask?" He stood a little straighter, his tone still respectful but carrying the quiet authority of someone who handled everything that reached Lucian Throne.
Mr. Jackson finally pulled his eyes away from Lucian and looked at Peter. His expression was soft, almost sad.
"I just want to congratulate him," he said. "He is a great mind."
The microphone tapped, a soft pitch echoing through the speakers and pulling every gaze back to the stage. Not that anyone had looked away.
"I see the best-dressed polls results are already in," Lucian said dryly, glancing up at the screens.
A faint rustle of laughter moved through the room, tentative but real.
"The projects I am partnering with are Sterling IU... D?" He frowned at the iPad Peter had handed him.
"IUD—as in Intelligent Unified Dynamics," Kefas interrupted, his face split by an enormous grin.
He had known his project was nominated, but he had never truly believed it would be chosen. This was monumental, especially after his failed attempt to steal AUDO from Adrian—an attempt that had crumbled the moment Adrian upgraded his security, long before the bugs and micro-cameras had even been discovered. Even Maria had not been able to bypass those defences.
"Oh," Lucian said, his expression perfectly stoic. "For a second I thought you meant something else."
A brief pause, a faintest flicker in his eyes. Then he continued as if nothing had happened. "Oneris—this is a personal favourite. And Pluto of..." He raised an eyebrow. "Cassian."
The project owners cried out in joy, their voices bright with disbelief. Their work had been chosen. They were now part of the infamous Throne Enterprise.
But that name—Cassian—lingered in Lucian's mind.
When he had combed through every file and shadow of the Stark family, he had uncovered something buried deep. Cassian Stark. An individual who, for reasons entirely his own, carried a quiet distance from the Stark name.
It was not something Cassian had ever made public. It was a private truth, hidden carefully beneath the surface, visible only to someone who had searched as thoroughly as Lucian had. And Lucian had found it.
He only wanted to partner with one Stark Project.
Adrian stood in the crowd, confusion spreading through him like a slow chill. So this was what Lucian had intended. Give him hope, only to strip it away.
The question was written on nearly every face in the room as they all waited, expecting AUDO to be the first name called.
"I have assembled the best team for each of you to work with," Lucian said, his voice steady and commanding. "And I will assign each of you nothing but the best." He paused, letting the silence coil tight. "As for me, I will personally be working with the Stark Architect's AUDO."
Applause erupted through the room, thunderous and real. Maria screamed, her joy unrestrained. This was a massive, undeniable victory.
Lucian caught sight of his mother, overjoyed, radiant. The mother who had abandoned him. He could see it so clearly now. She was greedy. Greedy to her core. And that greed was all he needed to bring the Stark family down.
Adrian felt something shift inside him, a tangled mixture of confusion and relief. The disappointment that had settled in his chest when AUDO was not announced first had been sharp and bitter. But now that it was—now that Lucian had chosen him—his emotions refused to settle. Confusion and relief swirled together into something he could not name. Why did Lucian want to be personally involved in AUDO's success?
"You cannot be more excited, Adrian?" Lucian's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and sudden.
Adrian blinked, pulled abruptly back to the present.
Lucian did not wait for a reply. He turned to the crowd and let out a long breath, as if a great weight had settled and passed. "Collaborate with each other. Make deals as if there is no tomorrow. And enjoy."
He stepped back from the podium. It was the most he had spoken while others listened in a very long time. He was used to commanding rooms, but this was different. This was something else entirely.
He looked up at the night sky, and in his mind, the image of his father remained—clear, vivid, unshakeable.
This is for you, Dad. And for Mom.
He said it only to himself, in the quiet space between his heartbeats, where no one else could hear.