Before Isaac could tell them to leave, Simraj Solkara stepped forward.
His robe was slightly disheveled from the earlier chaos, but his expression had already returned to its usual composed state.
"Since we have explained everything, can we now continue to discuss the negotiations?" Simraj said calmly.
Isaac stared at him as if he had misheard.
"You still want to negotiate?" he grunted.
"Yes, we do," Simraj replied without hesitation. "Food is always welcome, and that is one of the reasons we wish to ally with you. Moreover..."
He gave a faint, professional smile.
"Lady Catherine went out of her way to arrange this meeting. I believe even she wishes for us to become allies."
Isaac’s gaze shifted to Averon’s unconscious body.
"And what about him? He’ll throw another tantrum the moment he wakes up," Isaac warned.
Simraj’s smile turned bitter at the word "tantrum," but he did not argue.
"Honestly," Simraj said slowly, "he is one of the reasons I wish to ally with you."
Isaac raised an eyebrow.
"Lord Averon is good. He is kind, heroic, brave, and responsible. The people of Solkara City admire him deeply. And yet..."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"He is arrogant. That is our fault. Since childhood, he has been far stronger than anyone else around him. Because of that, he could do whatever he wished. We failed to discipline him properly. That is why he acts on impulse. Power changed him in subtle ways. Otherwise, he would not have attacked you out of anger."
He looked Isaac directly in the eyes.
"By allying with you, I hope he can be ’taught’ to control his whims and anger."
The word "taught" hung in the air.
Isaac understood exactly what it meant.
Beat him. Regularly.
Straighten him out the hard way.
Isaac’s expression turned strange. Why was this man trusting him with something like that?
No, he already knew the answer.
Simraj trusted him because Catherine had chosen him.
That only raised another question.
What exactly had Catherine done in the past when she met these people, for them to trust Isaac so much just because he was called her lord?
Isaac opened his mouth to refuse.
He did not want responsibility for someone else’s spoiled hero.
But rationality won in the end.
An alliance with Solkara City had benefits, and refusing now would only complicate things.
He sighed.
"Let’s talk inside."
He raised his device and spoke calmly, "Ruby, tell the approaching awakeners to leave. I’ve handled things here. Also get someone to take care of the destroyed buildings."
"Understood, Lord Isaac," Ruby’s voice responded through the device.
With that settled, Isaac turned and walked back into the office.
Simraj followed, and the guards carefully carried the unconscious Averon behind them.
Inside the office, the atmosphere was quieter but no less serious.
Isaac called Old Man Jeremy. The old man sat next to Isaac.
The negotiation lasted hours.
Food supply routes were discussed. Mana crystal exchanges. Shared defensive protocols for monsters.
Old Man Jeremy occasionally interjected with practical concerns.
"We need guarantees on transport safety. If we’re moving supplies regularly, we can’t have rogue awakeners interfering," Jeremy said at one point.
"That can be arranged. Solkara City will assign escort squads. You will not suffer losses under our protection," Simraj replied.
Isaac listened more than he spoke. He measured Simraj’s tone, his pauses, the way he avoided certain details but leaned heavily into others. The man was sharp. Polite, but sharp.
Averon, meanwhile, showed no signs of waking up.
As the negotiations neared their end, Simraj cleared his throat.
"So, about Lord Averon..."
Isaac leaned back slightly.
"What about him?"
Simraj folded his hands on the table.
"As you know, he has an infatuation with Lady Catherine."
Isaac’s eyes narrowed faintly.
"I have a plan that may help him move on. But I will require your cooperation," Simraj said carefully.
"Plan?" Isaac raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. It is simple. Especially since you publicly referred to Lady Catherine as your wife."
Simraj paused, as if making sure he would not be misunderstood.
"If you were to be... intimate with Lady Catherine while Lord Averon can see or be aware of it, he would have no choice but to let go."
He made a small motion with his fingers, making it clear what he meant by ’intimate’.
’Is this bastard insane?’
The thought almost escaped Isaac’s mouth.
Yes, it would likely force Averon to move on. But it would also scar the boy mentally. That kind of humiliation did not disappear easily.
Isaac hated children. That was true.
But he was not a psychopath.
He might carry devil bloodline, but even he had limits.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Old Man Jeremy giving him a strange look, as if trying to judge whether Isaac was actually considering it.
Isaac ignored the look and spoke flatly.
"I won’t be doing anything like that."
Simraj frowned slightly.
"But then Lord Averon will not—"
"I have a different way to smooth things out with him. Let me try it," Isaac interrupted.
He stood up and walked toward Averon’s unconscious body.
Simraj stiffened.
Isaac placed his hand on Averon’s temple.
"What are you doing?" Simraj asked cautiously.
"I’ll enter his dreams and talk to him there. He won’t be able to attack me. And he won’t be able to run away either. He’ll have to listen," Isaac replied calmly.
Simraj’s expression grew serious.
Entering someone’s dream was a delicate matter. It was a mental battlefield. It could easily turn into a method of psychological manipulation. Or worse, permanent damage.
Isaac glanced at Simraj.
"Don’t worry. I won’t kill him."
Simraj hesitated. His gaze lingered on Averon for a long moment. If Isaac truly wanted to harm him, he had already had the chance. Instead, he was offering a controlled approach.
Finally, Simraj nodded slowly.
"Alright. You may use your ability."
Isaac closed his eyes.
Mana began to churn around him.
He reached for the ability he had copied from Catherine, one that allowed entry into the dreams.
The connection formed smoothly.
But instead of forcing a scene, Isaac let the dream unfold as it already was.
...
Food.
That was the most precious resource.
Not weapons. Not dungeons. Not rare herbs or expensive potions.
Food was what truly mattered.
It was a truth that every Solkara understood deeply. Young or old, noble or factory-born, they all knew that survival began with a full stomach.
Fortunately, the Solkara race did not have to worry about food in the same way other races did.
They had enough of it.
Through themselves.
Due to the peculiar physique of the Solkara race, they could digest certain types of ores.
These ores were abundant in their territory.
Eating them caused gut-wrenching pain and severe digestion issues, but the nutritional requirements would be met.
Over generations, their leaders had refined a system.
Raise "dietary Solkara" in controlled facilities. Feed them ores. Let them grow. Then harvest their meat to feed the ’actual citizens’ of Solkara race.
It was efficient.
It was sustainable.
It was normal.
At least, that was what their society had decided long ago.
To the Solkara people, cannibalism was not evil. It was practicality.
But from the perspective of a child born inside one of those factories, raised as livestock—
It was hell.
The dream shifted, and Isaac saw it through Averon’s eyes.
Cold metal walls. The smell of ore dust. The constant ache in the stomach after forced feeding. Children huddled together in corners, sharing quiet words at night because that was all they had.
Averon did not know his father.
He did not know his mother either. Though her fate was easy to guess.
The child bearers that gave birth too many times had their body grown weak. These child bearers would be "processed."
Averon hated everything.
He hated the pain from eating ores.
He hated waking up and noticing that one more person was gone.
He hated his life.
But he was too afraid to kill himself.
So he continued living in the nightmare. Counting each day. And then, the time came where he would be processed.
Averon stood in line, small and thin, waiting to be taken today or tomorrow.
Surprisingly, he awakened.
The trauma and stress he had been under for years finally broke the camel’s back and led to his awakening.
An SSS-rank Talent manifested.
It was something that belonged in myths. A combat-focused talent of terrifying potential.
Unfortunately, the Talent was useless.
Leveling up needed him to kill other people, or use his skills.
Skills were granted from Level 5, so his only option was to kill.
But kill who?
The guards at the factory?
How could a scrawny child kill those monstrously powerful adept rank awakeners? They could kill him with a snap.
There was only one realistic option.
The children around him.
The other ’dietary Solkaras.’
They were weak like him. Killing them would be easy.
But Averon refused to kill them.