"…That question of yours—We have indeed considered it before."
The figure behind the curtain paused, then spoke with solemn weight.
"But the Infected are the Infected. From the very day they are touched by Originium, they forfeit the rights of a citizen of Ursus. Their existence endangers the lives of the untainted. As ruler, We cannot permit such dangerous instability to remain."
In the emperor's view, the Infected were walking bombs—liable to detonate at any mont, spreading the blight to others. From that perspective, they ceased to be citizens the instant the disease marked them; they were liabilities, not people.
"Even if acting so earns you the title of tyrant?" Steven asked lightly, recalling what Talulah had once called this man. To every Infected, the emperor of Ursus bore that title without fail.
"That is nothing more than the judgnt of others," ca the answer, firm and unyielding. "We rule over millions—why should We waste thought on petty slander? The only thing that matters is this: Ursus must rise to glory once more."
The words rang with domineering conviction. The emperor did not care about his reputation—only that his vision of a powerful, resurgent Ursus be realized.
"Therefore, Lord Steve… would you not consider joining Us? Power beyond compare, wealth, won, renown—anything within Our grasp, We can bestow upon you."
It was a voice heavy with temptation, an offer no ordinary man could refuse.
But Steven simply shook his head.
"Sorry. Not interested. Most of what you're offering—I already have. And the rest? If I wanted it, I'd take it for myself. No need for anyone to 'grant' it to ."
There was not the slightest hesitation in his tone. Power, status, fa… to him, these were nothing but shackles, headaches he had no use for.
"…You are even harder to sway than We imagined," the emperor said at last, his voice sinking lower. Perhaps disappointnt, perhaps simple inevitability—this outco was one he might have already foreseen. "Very well. Then let Us return to what truly matters. The question We asked before—have you an answer now?"
That was why he had summoned Steve. Not to tempt him, not to shower him with gifts, but to probe his stance.
A man this powerful could not be ignored. If he chose enmity, it would be disastrous.
Steven chuckled softly.
"An answer? I already gave you one, didn't I? I have no plans to be Ursus' enemy—at least, not for now. In fact, I've heard of your battles against the Collapsals. And to tell you the truth—"
He leaned back in his folding chair, lips curving in an almost genuine smile.
"—I respect you for that, in my own way."
Steven answered the question casually, but soon, his tone shifted—turning the atmosphere in the room heavy once again.
"However," he continued, "the people I care about—the ones I like—stand on the side opposite of yours. If Ursus ever tries to harm them, then I can't just stand by and watch. When that ti cos… well, I suppose conflict will be inevitable."
He spread his hands with an easygoing shrug, showing no concern for the fact that he was saying all this in one of the most dangerous places imaginable. His thoughts were laid bare, plain and simple.
The aning was clear: He had no intention of being enemies with Ursus. But the people he cared about were enemies—and he was fiercely protective of them. There wasn't really any way around that, was there?
"Are you saying," the shadow behind the curtain finally spoke, rising to his feet, "that there will co a day when we stand opposed to one another?"
"Most likely," Steven replied lightly. "So then, Your Majesty—are you planning to deal with now? To nip the potential threat in the bud like you would an infected?"
He waved a hand lazily, as if the suffocating pressure filling the room didn't even exist, and even had the audacity to give advice to the emperor himself.
According to the minimap, there were about twenty Emperor's Blades in the area, plus the boss right in front of him. If a fight broke out, it'd definitely be… thrilling.
There wasn't the slightest trace of fear on his face—only a flicker of anticipation for battle.
But the fight he was hoping for never ca.
"…Forget it," the emperor finally said, the tension fading from his voice. "You've made it clear that this is sothing that may happen in the future. Besides, the infected… they're hardly a serious problem for Ursus now. Even if you help them, it won't cause us much harm."
The silhouette behind the curtain sat back down.
And he was right. The infected issue was only a tiny fragnt of the real problems Ursus faced. Whatever Talulah and her little guerrilla bands were doing—calling it a 'rebellion' was giving it too much credit.
Their so-called damages probably didn't even match what a single greedy noble could steal through a single day of embezzlent.
If Steve wanted to play around with them a little, let him. The infected only sought equality, not revolution.
And if, soday, they proved their worth—if they could beco a real strength for Ursus—then wouldn't that only make the empire stronger?
From start to finish, the emperor's mind had always been fixed on one thing: how to make Ursus greater. Nothing more, nothing less.
"…Then, Lord Steve," the emperor changed the subject, clearly unwilling to linger on talk of the infected. "What are your thoughts on the Collapsals of the northern tundra?"
This man—who could slay multiple Collapsals single-handedly—must have so special ans of fighting them. And that might just be the key to helping the Ursus armies struggling in the far north.
"The Collapsals, huh? Now that's sothing interesting." Steven's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. "If I get the chance, I'd love to go take a look myself."
"At least on that front," he added, his tone turning earnest for once, "you can rest easy. I'm definitely on humanity's side."
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
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