In one of the highest-tier VIP lounges, which was located directly opposite the Supreme Force's box and equally insulated with telepathic dampeners, an opulent chamber buzzed with a far more youthful, relaxed energy.
This was the 'Heir Pavilion'.
It was named so because it was not the place for elites who were commanders, presidents, or instructors, but rather the next generation of top esper clans whose power reached throughout the esper world… the second generations.
They weren't just talented; they were bloodlines refined through generations, each chosen to represent the future of their respective families.
And in the center, sitting languidly on a plush crimson lounge chair like a theater critic watching a new stage play, was Davion Plastine, heir to the infamous puppet clan of Epsilon City.
His crimson coat gleamed under the indirect lighting, his gloved fingers twirling his cane absentmindedly while his legs crossed with aristocratic grace.
