"Why are you treating him with such importance?" An irritated voice sounded in the otherwise quiet room.
Oberon turned and fixed his eyes on the buff man who had just spoken. Vexarius.
They were both inside an office that resembled a control room.
"What do you mean?" Oberon asked.
Vex clicked his tongue. "That brat, you treat him with so much respect. Why? He killed thousands of innocents with his actions alone! He should be bound in chains and held accountable for—"
"Vexarius," Oberon cut him off before he could finish speaking.
"In every aspect of my life, I have always aspired to make the best and most logical decisions. Do you know why?"
Vexarius remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Because logic is the foundation upon which civilizations rise and upon which they fall. Emotion is fleeting, an unreliable guide. But reason? Reason is absolute.
"The smartest decision is never the one that satisfies one's conscience, nor the one that aligns with personal ideals of justice. It is the one that ensures survival, the one that tilts the scales toward longevity, toward prosperity. That is the only measure of wisdom that matters."
He approached Vexarius.
"Now tell me, what do you think the smartest decision is here? The other races are stronger than us. If they wished, they could crush us, erase us from history with little more than an afterthought. And then—" he paused, his tone dropping to a whisper, "there is this child."
"A child whose talent defies every known principle, whose growth outstrips all logic, a force beyond our comprehension, and perhaps even beyond our control. Today, he is seventeen, and already, he is more powerful than we are. And tomorrow? He may stand beyond even them."
His voice thickened as his aura grew more intense.
"What is the smartest decision? To chain him? Punish him for the deaths of inconsequential insects, people whose existence adds nothing to our survival? Or to hold onto the one thing that may keep us from extinction?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Until Vexarius' enraged shout shattered it.
"You've gone too far, Oberon!"
The room trembled from the eruption of his crushing aura.
However, Oberon remained unmoved.
"I only stated the facts."
"They're our people! It's our duty to protect them!"
"No. It's our duty to prevent our extinction. And if respecting a seventeen-year-old is the only way to do that, then we all better get ready to get on our knees and beg."
"Oberon!"
Vexarius' aura erupted once more, encompassing the entire building and making it tremble with intensity.
The Enigmalk in the area turned toward the top of the citadel, unable to move under the overwhelming aura that held them in place. They all wondered just what was going on.
"I would rather die," Vexarius seethed through gritted teeth, the air around him distorting.
Bow to a child?
He would rather die!
Oberon's eyes only turned colder, not responding.
"That brat doesn't care about the human domain. He fucking destroyed an entire sector and didn't give a damn!"
"You're right about that. But you've heard about the war between the Ravensteins and Stellaris, right? That child had been in this sector, and yet, he was ready to do anything to be taken to Sector Three and protect his loved ones. He has a heart. We just have to get in it."
Vexarius could only grit his teeth in anger.
"And the way to do that is what? Bow? Beg? Throw ourselves at the feet of some arrogant brat who doesn't even give a damn about us!?"
Oberon's gaze was intense. It was completely different from his otherwise calm demeanor.
He hated illogical fools, and right now, Vexarius was being just that.
Today, he had decided to douse the man with the cold truth.
"If that is what it takes."
Vexarius' anger only intensified. "You're pathetic," he spat.
"Your perspective means nothing to me," Oberon responded calmly. "If you want to rot, then rot. See if pride keeps you alive when the other races come to grind our bones into dust."
Oberon turned and started walking out of the room.
"And also, Magnus informed me of yesterday's event when you went to deliver the list of demands…"
He turned and looked straight into Vexarius' eyes, his voice serious.
"I know your behavior well, Vexarius, but we're currently in a crisis where our survival depends on a child. Atticus is very unpredictable, but if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's his short fuse for nonsense, much like you.
"Behave yourself. Don't push him. He won't hesitate to attack, and he won't stop until you're down. If I had to choose between you and our hope—" his gaze narrowed, "…my choice would be the logical one."
Vexarius could only clench his fists as he watched Oberon walk out of the room, the door shutting behind him.
"Fuck!"
His aura exploded, shattering the hard walls of the room before he shot up, tearing through the roof and disappearing into the horizon.
…
Deep within the Vampyros domain, in an expansive hall situated inside the Blood Queen's castle, there was nothing but bloodlust.
The grand elders of the Vampyros race stood in two parallel lines, their crimson eyes glinting like pools of liquid garnet.
At the far end of the long hall, on a throne of obsidian and bone that loomed over them all, sat the Blood Queen, Jezeneth.
Clad in a tight-fitting black gown, Jezeneth sat with her slender fingers resting on her cheek, head tilted slightly.
Her oppressive aura engulfed the entire castle, pressing down on every single person like an overwhelming weight.
The grand elders were utterly silent, a fact that belied the bloodlust radiating from each of them.
They were angry.
But they could not speak.
Jezeneth's placid gaze remained fixed on the elders, silent.
Her body was trembling.
She was pissed.
Trying hard to stop herself from going on a rampage.
That man had stopped her from attacking the human domain, and she hated every bit of that order.
And now, the grand elders of the Vampyros were irritating her.
Meetings upon meetings.
She had made them retreat. She had instructed them not to attack the human domain.
The only thing she had allowed them to do was send a list of demands to the humans, and even then, the consequences of their refusal hadn't been war.
Just what was their queen thinking?
Had she gone mad? Senile?
The grand elders of the Vampyros wanted to find out.
But Jezeneth hadn't said a single thing.
In fact, the grand elders had been in the process of discussing the matter when her aura had suddenly encompassed the entire space, shutting everyone up.
As they turned to Jezeneth, they caught her staring at the large doors at the end of the hall, as though waiting for someone.
As they turned—
The doors burst open.
A guard entered the hall.
He moved swiftly, and upon reaching a few meters from the throne, he bowed on all fours, paying his respects.
"Eternal Blood Queen, your will is law."
"The response?"
Jezeneth's voice was low.
Cold.