Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 518: The Elephant, the Rope, and the Crown

They didn’t need to give him their military secrets or anything of sorts.

Parker wasn’t interested in maps, weapons caches, or hushed codes passed down like sacred scripture through the bloodlines of the Five Families. Well—Four now. He didn’t care for that kind of leverage. The people who stand above these families—the Origin Bloodlines, his first creations—were already loyal to him in ways that went beyond threats or promises.

They didn’t need convincing. They belonged to him.

But Diana and Isabella were right about one thing.

The world—the mundane world—ran on systems, and those systems had leashes. Not digital ones. Not magical ones. Mental ones. Cultural ones. Invisible threads of inherited obedience tied to names, crests, and the long shadows of old money and older violence. Governments didn’t rule this world. The Five Families did. Quietly. Consistently. Through backroom deals, money, ultimate inherited power, oaths, and the art of whispered war.

And suddenly replacing them?

Now that would be a pain in the ass.

Parker leaned against the stone balcony rail, arms folded, the crisp night wind pushing back his shirt like some lazy divine wind.

Diana and Isabella were still watching him from the fire-lit lounge inside, their silhouettes haloed in soft gold—waiting for his response. Waiting for permission. Waiting to see if they’d just bought themselves extinction or elevation.

He stared out into the velvet dark and smiled to himself.

There was an old tale he’d heard once. Not divine lore. Just one of those human parables so simple it clung to your ribs like rice and guilt.

A young elephant was chained to a stake, a leash just strong enough to hold a calf. It struggled, fought, yanked—but couldn’t break free. Time passed. The elephant grew. Stronger. Massive. A creature that could uproot forests and tear down temples. But the leash didn’t change. Nor did the elephant’s mind. It never tried to break it again. Why would it? The leash had won when it was young. And the elephant never questioned that victory.

People often stay bound by false limitations they accepted when they were younger, weaker, or more vulnerable—even when they’ve outgrown them.

Here, the governments are like the elephants. The Five Families being the rope and the owners of these elephants. The world may grow in power, but mentally, it’s still bound by old systems and control.

The Elephant, the Rope, and the Crown!

’That,’ Parker thought, ’is the world.’

The governments were the elephants. The leash? The families.

Even if the Awakening Era brought divine commerce and people shooting stardust from their wrists, it wouldn’t matter. The world would still look to the Beaumonts for direction. The Morellos for order. The Harringtons for silence and precision. The Wilders for diplomacy. The Ashfords for... well, bankruptcy and bad decisions, but still.

It was all in the mind.

As long as the Five Families remained, Earth’s collective subconscious would stay in check. The common people—the ones who didn’t want to be caught in cosmic pissing contests—would stay protected. Politicians wouldn’t overstep. Rogue nations wouldn’t flex. Terrorists wouldn’t try to breach the veil between dimensions.

Because in their minds? If the world had awakened powers, then that meant the Five Families had grown stringer if they didn’t have these powers from the start for that matter. So definitely...

The Beaumonts were still watching.

The Harringtons were still listening.

And if anyone forgot?

The Origin Families would remind them.

And above them all, like the sun most people prayed to in secret, will be Parker.

That, right there, was the hierarchy he could work with.

He didn’t need to micromanage Earth. He didn’t want to. Let them keep their castles and their puppet strings. Let them control economies and stabilize egos. All he wanted was freedom—space to live, to love, to make pancakes for Maya on Sundays and listen to Evelyn talk about elf heritage while Bella threw pillows across the room because her "core essence was not built for discipline."

He’d built enough realities. This one?

This one he wanted to enjoy.

Let the Four Families rule the earth like they always had. Let the governments slowly dissolve when the Awakening reached its second phase. The world would slip into the fantasy paradigm eventually: Kings and Houses. Bloodlines and Power. He’d seen it happen in other systems, other universes. Earth would be no different. Heroes would rise. Villains would gather. Some idiot chosen by fate would pull a glowing sword out of something they shouldn’t.

And Parker?

He’d be up there, eating grapes. Watching the chaos.

Waiting for the so-called "protagonists" to start thinking they were the main characters in his universe.

"Bwahahahahaha—" The laugh burst out of him without warning.

It echoed across the balcony like thunder wrapped in bourbon, making the lantern flames flicker. Inside, Diana blinked. Isabella’s eyes narrowed. They exchanged a glance.

"Did he just... laugh like a comic book villain?" Diana muttered.

"I think so," Isabella said. "I mean... damn."

"I don’t even know if we’re winning or losing anymore," Diana added.

"Same," Isabella sighed, folding her arms under her ample cleavage. "But I’m pretty sure we’re not getting erased."

Parker pushed off the railing, brushing nonexistent dust from his cuffs like a man who’d just made a million-year decision and was now heading to grab a snack.

He didn’t even explain.

He just left them there—two of the most powerful women on Earth—wondering whether they’d secured their empires or been gently absorbed into something too massive to resist.

Because that’s the thing about elephants.

They never realize the leash stopped working the moment he walked into the world.

*

The Earth was quiet again. Not the stillness of peace, but the kind that came before birth—or ruin.

Above the horizon, twilight scattered in fractals of violet and amber, the skies still humming from the aftertaste of divine presences. Cities no longer blinked blindly in artificial light alone; now, ley-lines of living color threaded through architecture, lighting up towers like stained-glass organs of a planet awakening from a centuries-old slumber.

And deep below—beneath oceans, mountains, ruins, and relics—the Prime Cores stirred.

Long-dormant heart-engines of the planet, hidden beneath strata of forgotten time, were now pulsing. Genesis Energy—primal, ancient, not born of gods but that which came before even them—was rising. Not violently. Not recklessly. But with purpose. With intention.

It crept into the soil first. Then the rivers. Then the air.

People didn’t notice it at first—how the wind felt thicker, like it carried memories. How glass no longer shattered but sang briefly before snapping. How some children were born with starlight behind their eyes and voices that made old priests weep.

The mundane governments didn’t see it coming.