Chapter 165: The 'Decaying' Twelve Brass Nobles

【Brass Tower, Top-Level Council Chamber】

"Are you ready?" Tian Dao stood before the grand doors of the council chamber, turning to Vivian beside him with a final question.

Vivian took a deep breath, then nodded firmly, her eyes blazing with resolve.

"Alright then. Let’s go."

The words fell, and Tian Dao pushed open the heavy meeting doors with one hand.

Thud.

With a dull, metallic groan, the vast circular chamber slowly revealed itself as the doors parted.

A magnificent fusion of classical elegance and modern precision unfolded before them.

Sunlight streamed through the ornate skylight above, casting kaleidoscopic patterns onto the floor—its tiles etched with intricate gear motifs. Around the chamber, twelve massive, high-backed chairs, forged from rare yellow brass, were arranged in a sequence resembling the hour markers of a clock.

Each chair was occupied by a Brass Noble—one of the twelve ruling figures who held sway over the Steam Capital’s Quantum Central Authority.

Their masked faces turned toward the newcomers, their gazes ranging from curious to indifferent, from calm to bored.

Among them stood three figures from the Gear Church, and two representatives from the Stellar Envoy Association.

The reason was simple: the title of Brass Noble wasn’t based on bloodline. It was earned through possession of vital authority—power. Anyone who held key permissions could ascend to the rank, regardless of origin.

Even those not born in the Steam Capital could become a noble, if they held the right keys.

Click.

Vivian stepped onto the central platform of the Trial Stage. Tian Dao turned, snapped the railing shut at the edge, and retreated into the shadows.

Then—a spotlight—suddenly dropped from the ceiling, pinning Vivian’s slender frame in its glow.

At the head of the chamber, the Council Chairman remained hidden in shadow, fingers lightly resting on the armrest of his Brass Scepter. His voice rang out, solemn and commanding:

“Vivian Howard. Do you know your guilt?”

Vivian inhaled deeply, then lifted her head, meeting the unseen eyes within the shadowed high-backed chair.

“I am… not guilty.”

The chamber fell silent. The air itself seemed to freeze.

Moments passed.

Then, a man in the robes of the Gear Church—Bishop Cleve—spoke from beside the Chairman.

“Vivian. Even now, you still seek to lie?”

“Lie?” Vivian looked at him, her expression laced with cold mockery.

A chill crept through Bishop Cleve’s chest. He felt it—something was wrong.

Vivian turned again, not to the Chairman, but to the camera mounted beside the throne.

“You accuse me of stealing a sacred artifact from the Church,” she said, voice calm, clear. “But I never stole anything. Not even once.”

“Because this object…” she began.

“Silence!”

Before she could finish, Saintess Yufemia—standing beside Bishop Cleve—shouted, her voice sharp, edged with something close to panic.

The sudden outburst betrayed her. Vivian’s unexpected composure had thrown her off balance.

Her eyes instantly darkened, fierce.

Then—like threads from a hidden loom—dozens of invisible threads surged toward Vivian from all sides, attempting to reclaim control of the puppet that had broken free.

But just as they reached her—

A soft, gentle voice cut through the air from beside her.

“Saintess Yufemia… you’re rather worked up.”

The threads froze midair.

Then, like retreating waves, they dissolved into nothing.

The others assumed it was fear of Tian Dao’s status as Captain of the Fifth Squad.

But Yufemia knew better.

She knew exactly what she feared.

Bishop Cleve stared down at the defiant figure below, his expression icy.

Farther away, Golden Knight · Fisher’s gaze lingered on Vivian for a heartbeat—then returned to neutrality. He was clearly staying out of it.

Seeing the situation slip toward chaos, the Chairman slammed his scepter down.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Silence.”

The chamber fell still.

The Chairman spoke again, voice low, deliberate.

“Vivian Howard. You claim innocence. Then produce your proof.”

“I have it.”

“Evidence? Human or material?”

“Both.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then murmurs rose among the Brass Nobles—whispers, hushed debates. Were they to cut the trial short? Cancel the live broadcast?

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The script had been clear. The outcome predetermined.

Now, everything was unraveling.

But before they could reach a decision, the Chairman struck his scepter again—cutting through the whispers like a blade.

He swept his gaze across the chamber.

“Gentlemen. Remember—this trial isn’t watched by just us. The eyes of countless citizens across the Steam Capital are upon us. And… others. Outside the Capital.”

He paused.

“If we lose face before our guests…”

No need to finish.

They all understood.

The only guest in the Steam Capital—the only one—was Yao Dao of the Liyang Family, accompanied by her Catastrophe-Level Guardian.

Though she had chosen not to attend in person, her presence was felt through the live stream.

If the Brass Nobles made fools of themselves now, the story would spread—across the Seven Floating Cities.

And that was something no noble could bear.

So, in the end, was justice really the priority?

Or was it simply their own dignity?

Tian Dao, hidden in the shadows, let a faint, mocking smile tug at his lips.

Centuries of comfort. Decades of arrogance.

These people had forgotten the brutal, untamed dawn of the Stellar Era.

They’d lost the fire of the Dark Age—the hunger, the will to fight.

The stench of decay clung to them, even from here.

And yet—these rotting hands still held the keys to immense power.

What a waste.

The best things deserved better hands.

“Proceed with the trial,” the Chairman announced.

With consensus restored, he resumed the proceedings—this time, as if he truly were a fair judge.

“Speak your evidence, Vivian Howard.”

Vivian paused.

Then, she named a name that made Bishop Cleve and Saintess Yufemia’s eyes widen in shock.

“Jack Bailey,” she said.

“The owner of the Rust Nail Bar in the Lower City.”

Their pupils contracted.

They hadn’t expected him.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end