Kenji gave her a soft smile, his expression montarily softening before he returned his attention to Amanda.
The brief warmth in his hazel eyes vanished as he turned back to the pristine retainer, replaced by a flat, unreadable look that made Amanda’s smile freeze on her face.
"Anything else?" Kenji asked.
Although he did not sound intentionally cold, the words carried a blunt, dismissing weight that felt like throwing freezing water directly over her body. He was indirectly telling her to leave. He was not inviting a conversation.
He was establishing a boundary.
Amanda’s lips parted in utter confusion, her fingers twitching against her sides. Why did she feel like Kenji had completely distanced himself from her?
A heavy, unsettling realization settled into her stomach, echoing the frustration she had felt when she called him this morning to arrange a eting before the transport rotation began.
He had rejected her request without a single second of hesitation, claiming he was far too busy with training to spare any ti for her.
Amanda had used her personal influence within the sector’s administrative staff to investigate what exactly had occupied his schedule, and the discovered truth had almost made her explode in anger.
He had been training. He had spent his private hours isolated in a private chamber with the mistress’s brat.
She recalled how perfectly he had been under her control just three short years ago. Back then, that boy had never rejected a single one of her needs.
He had gone to extre lengths, risking his own safety and spending his hard-earned rewards just to satisfy her administrative requests and career advancents.
When she had finally departed for her permanent rotation in the Crusade, he had been devastated, writing to her and seeking her approval for weeks.
What had changed now?
Amanda’s eyes naturally shifted toward Ayla, who was currently standing perfectly still, her golden eyes shining with an intense, inhuman curiosity to extract the data regarding the Spire Event.
’It is this little bitch,’ Amanda’s inner voice snarled, the trajectory of her thoughts rotting with a violent, toxic malice that Ayla mapped instantly.
’She did sothing to him. She used her position as the General’s pet to warp his mind. This useless, illegitimate garbage is trying to push out of his circle. Just wait until we reach the threshold of the Spire. I will ensure she learns exactly what happens to common bastards who try to play at being nobility.’
Amanda knew that if she did not act wisely right now, Kenji would simply distance himself from her further. She could not allow that to happen.
Not when he was still an incredibly useful asset for her long-term ascension within Central Command, at least until they successfully entered the inner sectors of the Spire.
She needed his blade, and she needed his high-tier status to shield her from the baseline casualty rates.
"Oh... I just rembered I have a date later today," Amanda said smoothly, her voice adopting a light, teasing tone as she forced her beautiful mask back into place.
"Do you rember Austin? The primary heir of the Marsh family? Him. He insisted on hosting a private dinner for before the vanguard launches."
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked for any sudden change in Kenji’s expression.
She waited for the familiar spark of jealousy, the slight tightening of his jaw that used to accompany any ntion of other high-house heirs pursuing her favors.
But there was absolutely nothing. Kenji’s eyes did not flicker. His attention remained anchored entirely on Ayla’s face, his posture completely relaxed.
Amanda’s cheeks burned with a sudden, humiliating heat. She let out a stiff, strained smile, her fingers tightening around the strap of her administrative bag until her knuckles turned white.
"I shouldn’t keep him waiting then," she muttered.
She turned around on her heel and departed the weapon alcove in high, rigid strides, the gravel crunching violently beneath her boots.
Ayla watched her retreating back, her golden pupils tracking the precise physical asurents of Amanda’s neck and spine, calmly deciding the cleanest thod to tear her apart and devour her brain when the ti ca.
Her clinical observation was cut short as the broad, dark-armored shoulders of Kenji stepped into her line of sight, completely blocking her view of the path.
"You don’t want to know about the Spire Event anymore?" he asked, a subtle, amused tilt to his voice.
Ayla’s eyes shone with a sudden, intense brightness as she looked up at him silently. She did not speak, but the rigid set of her brows and the slight tilt of her head conveyed an absolute, demanding affirmation. Yes. Give the data.
Kenji reached down, his leather-gloved hand gently taking hers, his fingers wrapping around her small, cool palm. He guided her away from the open training grounds toward a quiet stone bench nestled near the courtyard wall, away from the prying eyes of the drilling squads.
Once they sat down, he let his blade rest against his knee, his gaze turning distant.
"Spires are fragnts of lost worlds," Kenji started speaking, his voice dropping into a low, serious register that resonated with the crisp morning air.
No one in the modern human factions truly knew what those lost worlds actually were. There were dozens of conflicting historical theories circulating through the grand archives of Central Command.
Among them, the most logically consistent theory embraced by the Crusaders was simple: lost worlds were independent planetary systems that had been completely destroyed by an overwhelming force.
Ayla’s mind instantly flashed back to the deeply archived mories of the Emotional Weaver she had devoured back in the apocalypse tunnel.
She recalled the precise, terrifying mont of that entity’s ancient death, when that unknown, invisible entity had simply turned its colossal presence upon the weaver’s world, fracturing reality.
Was that primordial entity the true destroyer of worlds? Was that thing the creator of the very Spires the Crusaders were currently bleeding to conquer?
She buried the query deep within her mind and returned her full attention to Kenji’s voice.
"Conquering a Spire ans successfully defeating the original reason behind the destruction of that specific world," Kenji explained, his fingers tracing the etched markings on his scabbard.
He described the chanics in a way that aligned with her basic understanding of human interfaces.
The Spire functioned similarly to the structure of an independent world simulation. Reaching the conclusion of the simulation was the only thod to permanently conquer a Spire, and the Spire Events were the major historical breaking points, the catastrophic historical monts within the destroyed world that had originally triggered its ultimate fall.
For five consecutive years, humanity had fought aimlessly within the unnad rings of the Spire, clearing barely 20% of the local paraters.
That progress was not even considered substantial, because a standard Spire possessed at least three major historical Events. Now, the scouts of Central Command had finally located an active Event anchor.
Kenji was naturally excited by the strategic implications. An Event ant a step towards conquering the Spire.
"How do we fight an Event?" Ayla asked, her body shifting closer until she leaned her head lightly against his dark steel shoulder armor, her silver braid draping over his lapel.
"The Spire is an independent world trapped inside the Crusade," Kenji continued, his voice taking on a dreamy, fascinated quality as his hand rested on her shoulder.
"Its environntal principles and systemic laws are entirely unique to the history it contains. So Spires might be completely subrged in an endless, crushing ocean.
So might be burning eternally in a hellfire dinsion, and so might be advanced, futuristic cities floating through empty space. The laws change for every Spire."
He looked down at her, his hazel eyes serious.
"When a challenger enters an active Spire Event, the system evaluates their vessel and automatically grants them a specific role based on their traits."
"A role?" Ayla repeated, her jaw moving slightly against his shoulder plating.
"Yes. Every Spire Event splits the participants into two fundantal opposing roles: the Preservers and the Enders. The Preservers are the challengers who must stop the historical catastrophe from happening.
If they prevent the tragedy, they successfully conquer the Spire and stabilize the area for humanity. The Enders, however, are assigned to ensure the catastrophe occurs exactly the way history recorded it. They must force the world to end as it originally did."
Ayla raised her head from his shoulder in genuine surprise, her golden eyes widening by a fraction as she analyzed the systemic design.
"Do all humans who enter the Spire have a chance to get assigned to either of these two roles?" she inquired.
"Yes," Kenji confird.
"Then... what if so of them choose to beco an Ender?" she asked, a genuine confusion settling into her voice.
In a purely analytical sense, being an Ender seed remarkably more efficient and significantly easier. Forcing a fragile structure to collapse or allowing a disaster to run its natural course required far less energy expenditure than fighting against the tide to preserve a dying civilization.
Kenji read the direct trajectory of her thoughts from her eyes instantly. It was never difficult to interpret her expressions when her predatory logic started calculating efficiencies. He let out a low, slightly cynical laugh, his fingers gently squeezing her shoulder.
"Ayla, do you know why humanity maintains such a strict slot and quota system for Spire access?" he asked, his smile fading into a grim line.
"This is the exact reason. The central governnt will only allow a warrior to enter the Spire when they have a verified, vulnerable asset left behind in the human sectors. Why do you think my father and mother never co to the active front lines of the Crusade, let alone set foot inside the Spire?
They are kept on Earth as permanent leverage, the weak points of our grandfather. Their lives are a constant, administrative reminder for him to never make a foolish choice inside the system."
Ayla’s eyes narrowed as she processed the data. "What if a human does not care about anyone? What if they possess no weak points and deliberately choose the Ender role for the rewards?"
"In fact, many have chosen that exact path throughout the history of the upper tiers," Kenji said, his voice dropping into a cold, quiet whisper.
"Humans are not a collective hivemind, Ayla. When individuals are isolated inside a shifting world with legendary rewards dangling in front of their eyes, their loyalty to their species tends to evaporate."
"Then what happens to their weak points back ho?" she asked.
Kenji fell completely silent. His hazel eyes stared straight ahead at the departing vanguard transports, his jaw tightening as he refused to give voice to the brutal, bloody purges the military tribunal executed whenever a Spire Walker turned rogue.
Ayla watched his silence, her lips parting as a sudden, intense wave of gratification washed through her system.
"Wow," she murmured, her eyes widening as she bead with an uncharacteristic, genuine happiness. "Humans are absolutely no different from monsters."
Kenji watched the excited expression lighting up her flawless face. She was genuinely pleased to discover that the species she was mimicking possessed no moral superiority, that human societies were driven by the exact sa cold, predatory chanics of leverage, consumption, and survival that governed her own species.
He shook his head inwardly, inhaling sharply as a heavy sense of lancholy settled over his mind.
She was still too young in her developnt to realize that humans were, in fact, significantly more monstrous than any common beast roaming the outer trenches.
A monster killed for sustenance or defense; a human could coordinate the destruction of an entire world simulation just to watch their own status screen tick upward.
"Let’s be Enders," Ayla suddenly bead at him, her voice light, innocent, and entirely terrifying as she offered him her perfect, dimpled smile.
Kenji’s lancholy expression froze entirely on his face. The breath caught violently in his throat, and he almost choked on his own sharp inhale, his hazel eyes staring at his "sister" in absolute, stunned silence.
Not only him, even Roric Vale, hiding above on a tree branch in his miniature Owl Vessel form, almost had a stroke.
’It seems my milk baby will kill before anyone else...’ the owl shook his head.
User Comments
0 comments from readers