The Bigshot's Superstar Wife-Chapter 122: The Outcome

Zyvander Drake Angelus sat in his dimly lit chamber, the flickering holograms of planetary reports casting eerie shadows across his sharp features.

His golden eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he scrolled through the latest intelligence reports on Asenus.

A twisted smirk curled on his lips as he leaned back into his chair, fingers drumming against the polished surface of his desk.

"The Zergs have finally begun their infiltration," he mused, watching a projection of a dark alley in the heart of Asenus where humanoid figures with unnatural movements lurked in the shadows. "Perfect."

His trusted aide, Veyron, stood before him with a disciplined posture, awaiting his command.

"Your Highness, the level five Zergs have successfully assimilated into the population. So far, no one has detected their presence, but..."

He hesitated slightly before continuing. "It seems Lady Elara discovered one and survived."

Zyvander’s smirk faltered for a moment before he chuckled.

"Elara Jericho... That woman is more troublesome than I expected. Perhaps I should have disposed of her the moment she arrived on Asenus."

He turned his gaze toward Veyron. "And what of Lawrence Demerin?"

Veyron bowed his head slightly. "He received her distress signal and arrived just in time to assist her. They seem to have made contact with Major General Mors as well."

Zyvander’s fingers stilled on the desk. "Mors?" His golden eyes darkened as he spat the name like poison. "That bastard never stays out of my way."

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Veyron hesitated for a fraction of a second before proceeding.

"With Mors now informed, the empire may tighten its security measures against the Zergs. If they manage to uncover our cooperation with the high-level ones, it could jeopardize our plans."

Zyvander waved a dismissive hand, his confidence unwavering.

"Let them struggle. The more they resist, the more desperate they become. And desperation makes people reckless." He leaned forward, a sinister glint in his gaze.

"Besides, I’ve been planning for this for a long time. Do you really think I wouldn’t have contingencies in place?"

Veyron nodded. "Of course, Your Highness. What are your orders?"

Zyvander tapped a command into the console, pulling up a new projection, one of the royal palace itself. His expression was cold and calculating.

"It’s time to force Mors and his little wife out of hiding. The throne war has dragged on long enough. We’ll make Asenus uninhabitable for them."

Veyron’s brow furrowed slightly. "You mean..."

Zyvander stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he approached the enormous window that overlooked the imperial city.

"Set the next phase in motion. Activate the sleeper Zergs. Unleash chaos in the streets." His smile was slow, almost predatory.

"And most importantly, make sure Elara is captured. She is the key to breaking Lawrence Demerin. Once we have him, Mors will have no choice but to bow before me."

Veyron bowed deeply. "It shall be done, Your Highness."

As he left the chamber to carry out his orders, Zyvander remained by the window, watching the city below, imagining the flames that would soon consume it.

Later that night, Zyvander met with an unexpected guest deep within a secret underground chamber.

The room was filled with an eerie humming, a resonance that came from the dark mass pulsating in the center, a cocoon-like structure where an elite Zerg was undergoing transformation.

The guest wore a long, dark cloak, their features hidden under a hood. But Zyvander knew exactly who they were.

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"I take it you’ve come to discuss our arrangement?" he said smoothly, pouring himself a glass of aged wine.

A distorted, inhuman voice responded. "The assimilation process has begun, but we need more time. The human body is weak, full transformation requires careful nurturing."

Zyvander took a sip, unfazed. "Then do it faster. My patience is wearing thin."

The figure tilted their head slightly. "You speak as if you control us, prince."

Zyvander chuckled. "I don’t need to control you. I only need you to do what you do best, destroy." He set his glass down, leaning forward.

"The empire will fall, and when it does, I will be the one standing on top. As for your kind..." He smirked. "I couldn’t care less what happens to you after that."

The figure let out a low, guttural laugh. "Very well, prince. Let’s see if your ambition burns as bright as you believe."

With that, the cloaked figure vanished into the shadows, leaving Zyvander alone in the eerie chamber, staring at the pulsating cocoon with an almost manic gleam in his eyes.

Days later, as the first phase of chaos erupted in Asenus, Zyvander stood atop the royal balcony, watching the city burn.

Smoke curled into the night sky, and distant screams filled the air as Zergs moved undetected among the frightened civilians, striking from the shadows.

He held a glass of wine in his hand, sipping leisurely as if he were merely watching a performance.

"How beautiful," he murmured.

Veyron stood beside him. "The attacks have begun as planned. High-level Zergs are spreading panic, and military response is stretched thin."

"And Elara?" Zyvander asked, eyes gleaming.

Veyron hesitated before shaking his head. "She’s still evading capture. Demerin’s forces are protecting her well."

Zyvander sighed, swirling his drink. "Tsk. That woman is more of a nuisance than I thought." He turned toward his aide with a slow smile.

"Then let’s make her protection a liability. If she wants to keep hiding, we’ll make sure every person around her pays the price."

Veyron inclined his head. "Understood."

Zyvander’s grip tightened around the stem of his glass. "And Mors?"

Veyron’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Still stationed at the border. But with the way things are escalating, he may return sooner than expected."

Zyvander’s eyes darkened. "Good. Let him come. This empire isn’t big enough for the both of us."

With a smirk, he turned back to the chaos unfolding below, his golden eyes reflecting the flames.

The throne was within reach.

And he would stop at nothing to claim it.

Zyvander took another slow sip of his wine, savoring the moment as the city descended further into madness.

The scent of smoke and blood carried through the wind, a prelude to the empire’s inevitable fall.

He exhaled, watching the chaos below with amusement. "Soon, all of this will be mine," he murmured, his fingers tapping against the railing.

Veyron’s voice broke the silence. "Shall we proceed with the next phase, Your Highness?"

Zyvander’s smirk deepened. "Yes. Release the next wave. Let them know there is no safe place left in Asenus."

And with that, the city’s nightmare truly began.