Chapter 592: Victory For Now
The Five Great Gods ultimately secured terms that were marginally more favorable than the arrangement they had abided by until now, with the principal provisions of the new pact being as follows:
1) Annual Rights of Refusal:
All talents belonging to the Five Great Clans were now obligated to obtain explicit permission from their respective clans before entering the service of the Universal Government.
Each clan was granted the authority to refuse up to 1,000 such transfers annually, thereby safeguarding their most promising members.
Exception: The Du Clan, who in recognition of its support, had been granted triple this allotment.
2) Reduction of Annual Tribute:
The annual tribute owed by the clans to the Universal Government, previously levied for protection against the Cult of Ascension, had now been reduced by 20%.
This adjustment stemmed from the collective assessment that the Cult no longer posed the existential threat it did two millennia ago, thereby rendering a smaller fleet sufficient for security needs.
Exception: The Du Clan had been granted a 40% reduction, as recompense for supporting today’s betrayal.
3) Distribution of Su Clan Holdings:
With Su Ren dying, the foundations of the Su Clan were now shattered.
All assets, be they planets, territories, or talents, were now subject to redistribution among the remaining clans, to be claimed by might, merit, or stratagem.
4) Suspension of In-Person Assemblies:
Having endured yet another act of treachery, the Five Great Gods declared that they no longer placed any trust in the Universal Government.
Consequently, all in-person conclaves, traditionally convened once per century, were suspended for the next two thousand years, until the scheduled renegotiation of this pact.
—--
These terms, while not wholly unfavorable, were still far from sufficient for the Five Great Clans, whose ambitions stretched far beyond minor concessions and temporary relief.
They had entered this conclave with aspirations of full sovereignty, envisioning a future where their clans would no longer bow to the dictates of the Universal Government, yet what they walked away with was little more than gilded chains.
The privileges granted to them were enough to soothe surface-level discontent, yet not nearly enough to satisfy hearts long inflamed with pride and hunger for dominion.
For in truth, they were leaving not as free powers charting their own course, but as slightly more comfortable vassals, bound still to a distant throne that neither feared nor respected them.
And as though to salt the wound, one of their most trusted allies now lay dead, his clan reduced to carrion for the others to feast upon.
This pact, hence, was not a triumph, but a reminder— that betrayal came cheap for the allies of Kaelith and Mauriss, and that if they dared revolt, it would be them who would die next.
—--------------
Once the Five Great Gods had departed, the grand chamber of the Pavilion grew strangely quiet, leaving only Kaelith, Mauriss, and Helmuth seated together beneath its towering pillars.
Helmuth and Mauriss wore unrestrained expressions of triumph, their voices brimming with the exhilaration of victory, while Kaelith alone sat with a heavy stillness, his gaze fixed on the mosaic floor.
"This," Helmuth rumbled, his voice carrying like a drumbeat through the hall, "this is the most fun I’ve had in a millennium. To finally unleash myself, to feel the weight of my strength pressed against true resistance... I had nearly forgotten how intoxicating it feels." His immense arms flexed as he clenched his fists, veins bulging with restrained fervor, as though he were reliving every strike in his mind.
Mauriss, slouched comfortably in his chair with his usual air of smug satisfaction, threw a laugh across the room. "I told you, Kaelith! Didn’t I tell you? I had this figured from the start. I knew they’d fold. I knew the moment would come. Hah! And when it did, oh, what a spectacle. We crushed them, utterly crushed them!"
He leaned sideways, jabbing Kaelith’s shoulder repeatedly with a long, pale finger, his grin widening with every word. "Outsmarted them all, big time. Tell me I wasn’t right."
Helmuth ignored the exchange, still wrapped in the thrill of battle. "Mortals don’t realize how fortunate they are," he muttered, half to himself, half to the echoing chamber.
"To clash blade against blade, to test strength against strength, to feel every bone and sinew scream with effort. For us, divinity is a prison. Centuries of silence, eternity of waiting, and when a battle comes at last, our foes are never worthy enough to even weather a single strike. Imagine living your life as a warrior with no equal. It is not glory, it is torment."
Mauriss rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "Spare us your tragic poetry, you oversized brute. We all know you’re obsessed with smashing things. No need to dress it up as philosophy."
His tone shifted as his gaze slid toward Kaelith, who remained immobile, his expression taut and unreadable.
"Hey," Mauriss said more quietly, nudging Helmuth with a sharp elbow. "Look at him. He doesn’t look happy at all."
Helmuth finally turned, his grin fading as his eyes narrowed. Together, both gods regarded Kaelith, who had not moved a muscle since the others began celebrating, his silence pressing heavier than the Pavilion’s ancient columns.
"You.... What is wrong with you?" Helmuth asked, as Kaelith finally regained his wits, but his expression worsened even more.
"Today’s fight.... It ended so quickly, even though it was a four on five fight.
We had the upper hand from the start to end." Kaelith said, as Helmuth and Mauriss rejoiced at his words.
"Hell yeah we had the upper hand? It was my strategy afterall!" Mauriss said.
"So what if we were outnumbered, I alone can take on three Gods!" Helmuth added.
But Kaelith’s frown never improved.
"None of us picked up an injury today, nor were we ever pushed back.
Yet, 2200 years ago, when we tried to kill my brother after we had already killed my father, even with the nine of us attacking him at once.
We could not kill him after a fight that lasted two days.
And by the end, it was all of us who were exhausted, but he was still roaring to go on." Kaelith pointed out, as dark memories surfaced in everyone’s mind.
He never asked the question aloud.
He never asked just how strong Soron really was, because he felt he did not have the courage to hear the answer.
Even though they were all Gods, Soron had always been in a league of his own.
And yet, despite Soron’s incredible strength, he was never once able to make their father sweat in a spar, even up until the day their father died.
So the thought that lingered in Kaelith’s mind was a darker one.
Just how strong had their father, the Timeless Assassin, truly been in his prime?
And what was it that made him so fearsome, even though they were all at the same power tier?
"Hey! There’s no point brooding over the past," Mauriss cut in eventually, as he tried to lift up the mood.
"We won, Kaelith. That’s what matters. Victories this clean don’t come often, so let’s savor it."
Helmuth laughed. "Aye, brother. Celebrate first. Worry later. And even if you think Soron is strong, don’t worry about him, for I’m sure that I’m stronger."
He reassured, as Kaelith finally let out a long sigh, before letting out a soft grin.
They had indeed won today.
Everything had gone as planned.
The Righteous Alliance was still intact.