Martial Era: Starting With The Strongest Talent-Chapter 77: Thirty Hours

Adam had no intention of entertaining nonsense.

He wasn’t about to let attitude problems from a bunch of self-absorbed, overgrown NPCs turn something straightforward into a crisis.

The task in front of them was simple: hold back the monsters. That was it. They wouldn’t be doing it alone either; the mission hall was committing a large portion of its forces to the front lines as well. No one was being thrown away as disposable meat.

And Adam knew something else just as well.

These heirs were strong.

Strip away the excessive bragging, the inflated egos, and the constant need to posture, and the truth remained: martial heirs were monsters compared to ordinary martial artists.

They were trained the moment they could stand, whether they had awakened a cultivation talent or not. Resources were poured into them without restraint, elixirs, techniques, guidance, until their foundations were bloated with advantages others could only dream of.

Abigail was living proof of that.

Adam had seen her fight. He’d felt the precision behind her strikes, the confidence in her movements. She wasn’t all talk, and neither were many of the heirs in this room, whether he liked to admit it or not.

So yes, despite their complaints, Adam fully intended to drag them into the cause.

Still, there was a hiccup.

"And why should we listen to you?"

The voice cut through the hall.

Adam turned toward the speaker, mildly surprised.

It wasn’t Sebastian.

It was one of the heirs who hadn’t joined in mocking Vanessa earlier, one of the quieter ones who had watched the confrontation unfold without adding fuel to the fire.

The question wasn’t shouted or dripping with contempt, it was calm and measured.

But that single line was enough.

The other heirs straightened slightly, a spark of resistance igniting in their eyes.

The room grew tense as they waited, watching Adam closely to see how he would respond.

Adam looked at the heir who had spoken.

The man was larger than most in the hall, broad-shouldered, with a low military haircut that spoke of discipline ingrained down to the bone.

He radiated restraint and beneath it, something fiercer, something forged rather than inherited.

Adam studied him quietly.

I thought force would be enough.

He knew better now.

Force worked on most heirs. They were raised in environments where might made right, where pressure and intimidation were the language of authority.

But this one was different. Adam had already seen it when he glanced at the man’s soul flame through [Connect], there was no malice there or wounded pride lashing out.

This wasn’t defiance.

It was disagreement with Adam’s approach.

Adam paused, adjusting his posture, then spoke.

"That’s because I’ll be at the forefront fighting."

The hall went dead silent.

Not the awkward kind of silence, but the heavy kind. The sort that pressed down on the chest and made every word echo long after it was spoken.

Adam’s answer wasn’t arrogance. It was recalibration.

Moments earlier, he’d sounded like a dictator, ordering others forward as if he intended to stand behind them.

Even if that had never been his intention, perception mattered. What he’d said now made everything clear.

I’m not asking you to die for me.

I’m telling you I’ll be in front of you.

He was going to fight.

And if someone like him who was far stronger than all of them present was willing to step forward first and fight...

What excuse did they have to hold back?

The heir stared at Adam for several seconds, measuring him. Then he nodded once.

"The Baki Clan will partake in the operation."

Adam was satisfied.

Before he could speak again, another voice followed.

"So will the Kelvin Clan."

Abigail spoke soon after.

More heirs, those who hadn’t joined in mocking Vanessa earlier, those who still possessed a shred of restraint, began to voice their agreement one after another. The momentum shifted, quietly but decisively.

Adam felt a flicker of relief.

Then his expression hardened.

He turned toward the remaining group.

"Well?"

His gaze settled on Sebastian.

Sebastian swallowed visibly, the sound loud in the sudden quiet. Regret flickered across his face.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Adam had persuaded the remaining heirs to partake in the operation, and just like that, the deadlock dissolved.

Once the agreement was reached, tempers cooled quickly. Pride was still present, but it had been redirected into something more productive.

A brief but serious meeting followed, where battle roles, response times, and fallback plans were discussed in detail.

It was during this meeting that Adam finally understood why the manager had seemed so eager earlier.

They were seated around a large conference table, its surface glowing faintly as projections hovered above it. Some of the heirs occupied the back seats, arms crossed, expressions grim rather than arrogant now.

The atmosphere had shifted from confrontation to urgency. Bad news had a way of doing that.

Vanessa stood at the head of the table, veil in place, posture straight. With a flick of her hand, the projection changed, showing a rapidly fluctuating model of Siren Swamp.

"After analyzing the data we collected from the rift," she said calmly, "this is what our people have concluded."

The room fell silent.

"First, due to the actions of Henry Faraday, the Siren Swamp incursion rift was forcefully sealed and pushed into a mutation state."

No one interrupted her.

"Second, because this mutation was not caused by natural rift behavior, its characteristics differ significantly from what is commonly recorded."

Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Vanessa paused, letting the words sink in, before delivering the real blow.

"Instead of the rift completing its mutation in one week," she said, "it will finish mutating in thirty hours."

The tension in the hall shifted, but nobody spoke as they digested the information the manager had just shared.

Adam’s gaze, on the other hand, remained fixed on the projection, watching the unstable rift pulse like a diseased heart. Thirty hours wasn’t just fast, it was catastrophic. That explained the manager’s urgency and why she had been willing to swallow her pride.