Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 366: Desperate Hera: Deal With the Devil!

She descended like starlight forgotten by heaven—silent, slow, inevitable.

Her body—divine and blasphemous—wore the night like a second skin. The Greek tunic she draped over her sinful figure clung and fluttered at once, as if reality itself couldn't decide whether to expose her or veil her. The cloth whispered at her thighs, traced her waist, hugged the soft deadly curves of her breasts without shame. Her legs, long and sculpted by the cruelty of gods, hovered just above the earth, untouched by the mortal dust.

Hera wasn't dressed to impress mortals.

She was dressed to remind existence why it bowed.

Her crown gleamed cruel and sharp—no jewels needed, no gold. Just a jagged splinter of midnight wedged into her brow, humming with old authority.

In her hand, she carried a box.

Small. Unholy. Pulsing with a dark rhythm that didn't belong to anything alive or merciful. Black mist wept off it in coils, twisting the air into fractures where light bled out and shadows screamed. Runes—older than stars, madder than chaos—rippled violently across its surface, flickering too fast to read, too dangerous to even glimpse without risking your soul.

It wasn't a gift.

It was a curse.

A death sentence, stitched into an object no bigger than a heart.

Hera floated lower, the soles of her sandals kissing nothing, the ground bowing without permission. Around her, the world reacted. The trees leaned back as if gasping. The rocks cracked in trembling worship. Even the waves nearby withdrew from the shorelines, as if the Earth itself knew:

A Queen had arrived.

And she was not pleased.

Above her, the night sky stretched wide and clear. Stars glittered like tears in a velvet ocean.

Hera paused there for a moment, allowing her gaze to flicker upward—toward the beauty of the world she had once ruled more directly. A cool, detached wonder passed across her features, like an empress admiring the dying embers of a kingdom she barely remembered loving.

This was Earth.

Her Earth.

But tonight wasn't for sentimentality.

Beneath her, not in myth or mountain, but deep within the twisting steel bones of a hidden laboratory buried far from mortal eyes—something stirred.

Something old.

Something sealed.

Something promised.

Her eyes couldn't leave that place!

The box in Hera's hand pulsed once more, sending another invisible shockwave tunneling through the ground. Buried instruments cracked. Metal twisted. Somewhere inside the lab, alarms blinked silently—systems warning of a rising anomaly they weren't equipped to survive.

The Queen of Heaven hovered a few inches above the dirt, her face like carved in stone, her lips set in a line that knew no mercy.

She wasn't here to parley.

She wasn't here to warn.

She was here to deliver fate—one heartbeat at a time.

The box throbbed again, darker, heavier.

The island whimpered under the weight of her presence. Winds howled low and broken across the cliffs. And with a single step forward—silent, inevitable—

Hera shattered the fragile peace of the night.

The gods were moving again.

And Earth, beautiful and doomed, was about to bleed.

*

Hera clutched the box tighter against her chest, her sandals gliding inches above the earth as she drifted through the midnight winds. Above her, the stars burned sharp like a million knives. Below her, the world stretched out in a hush of sleeping cities, restless oceans breathing under silvered clouds, and mountains humming ancient songs only gods could hear.

For a moment—a brief, dangerous moment—Hera let herself gaze at the beauty of Earth.

At everything they had ruled, abandoned, pretended to understand. A beauty she would never admit she missed. But she hadn't come here for nostalgia.

She remembered their words.

THEY!

Not a name. Not a title. A force older than anything Olympus could ever claim. She and Apollo had crawled to them the moment reality slapped them across the face—when they realized what Parker really was. Not just a gifted mortal. Not just some ticking bomb of fate. No, he was the Son of HER, the youngest sibling of a woman who even the oldest stars whispered about when they thought no one was listening. A woman second only to HER—the first, the Prime, the Sovereign.

And in front of that lineage? Zeus, Hades, Poseidon—they were nothing. Gods of borrowed titles, ruling broken heavens.

Hera didn't even know exactly what crimes the Three had committed to earn Parker's hatred. She just knew Olympus wasn't going to fall. It was going to be erased. Wiped clean like a stain existence decided it didn't want to remember.

She didn't care about the old crimesz Olympus was her responsibility and hers to protect as it's Queen!

And she, Hera, Queen of the Heavens, wasn't about to stand there and let history remember her as the foolish Queen who watched it happen without doing anything. She wanted recognition. No apologies, no songs. Just the look—on Zeus's face, on all their faces—when they realized she had been the one who held the Olympus together when everyone else folded.

Apollo? Different story. Hera still tasted the sourness of his desperation when she thought about it. He wasn't driven by glory. Just fear. Rotting, gnawing fear that chewed at his bones whenever he dared to imagine Parker turning his golden gaze toward him. Because Apollo had sins that even Olympus didn't side with him. A small sin by cosmic standards, maybe—but unforgivable to Parker.

Rodeo Drive.

The man Apollo had nudged. The idea he'd planted like a parasite in a weak mind. A casual cruelty: molest Tessa. Break her. Shatter Parker where it hurt the most.

It had seemed like a brilliant move then. A simple push to destabilize a potential threat. Now? Apollo realized what he'd actually done.

He hadn't just kicked a sleeping dragon.

He'd slapped the child of an unstoppable family—and left fingerprints Parker would start to trace back.

Hera clutched the cursed box tighter, her blue eyes narrowing against the night wind, the stars above bearing silent witness as she descended toward a world that didn't even know it was holding its breath remembering their desperate moves.

See...

The two gods—Hera and Apollo—had gone to THEY, dragging their pride through the mud like rotted corpses behind them, hoping, begging for help. Covering theft with murder. Mistakes with desperation.

They made a deal with a Devil!

THEY had listened.

And THEY had spoken.

In the coldest, most brutal truth, THEY had said they couldn't directly descend onto a Prime World like Earth without years—centuries even—of preparation. To do so would be to invite a war they weren't ready for. A war that would drag the Eldest Child of Existence into the field... or worse, rouse the Whole Mother herself. The consequences? Cataclysmic. Reality wouldn't survive the clash.

So instead, THEY offered her something else.