The creator of the Vulcan System, the world-famous playboy and inventor-Tony Stark.
He sat at a table, listening to this bunch start spouting nonsense.
Clearly, the recent upheaval had brought out plenty of ambitious schemers, as well as people uneasy about the current state of Superhumans.
The Light Elves, Fire Giants, and many other alien races had given them a thorough demonstration of war.
A war fought by Superhumans.
It had been a vivid lesson in warfare, and the final straw that crushed ordinary people's hopes of suppressing Superhumans.
The Superhumans' hunger for status and power was growing stronger.
"Tony, what do you think?"
Tony Stark, who had been lost in thought at the table, started, his expression freezing.
Surprise flickered in his eyes. He had never expected anyone to ask his opinion.
His views might not carry their full weight at this conference.
But as a major capitalist, his words still had some value.
Tony Stark sighed and gathered his thoughts. "It feels like a lifetime ago. That's the feeling I get right now-a lifetime ago. A few months back, we were still discussing how to put together a sound Superhuman Registration Act, and now things have come to this. It's truly remarkable."
Tony took a sip of expensive red wine and said, "The world today is, frankly, in utter chaos. Superhumans carry out unimaginably dangerous missions, yet they don't receive anything close to the compensation they deserve. When S.H.I.E.L.D. hired Captain America, a Superhuman of his caliber was paid barely more than ten thousand dollars a month. Other Superhumans were paid even less.
"That salary wouldn't even be enough to hire one of the best thieves on Blue Star..."
Captain America's salary really wasn't particularly high, amounting to only a little over two hundred thousand dollars a year.