Ethan finally spoke, his voice cutting through the heavy tension like a chilled blade. "If you’re so desperate for resources, you could have just asked. Should I write you a check?"
The blatant sarcasm hung in the air. A few muffled chuckles escaped from the back of the hall, but the auditorium quickly plunged into an oppressive silence.
The Scavenger Leader didn’t flinch. "I think there’s a misunderstanding. We don’t need your money. What we need is security. My troops have been completely relocated to our core territories to defend against the increasing attacks from the Outsiders. As far as I know, the forces of Celestial and Desert Oasis have done the sa. Every Obsidian-rank group has been forced to pull back due to the imnse pressure we are facing on our primary borders."
He paused, glancing toward the middle rows. "Every Gold-rank group and below can testify that two months ago, we ceased collecting protection fees. We simply can no longer guarantee their safety."
Multiple heads in the Gold-rank section nodded solemnly. Many had seen the sudden withdrawal as an opportunity to seize the coast for themselves, but they had remained cautious. Now, hearing the truth, they thanked their ancestors for their hesitation; had they rushed in, they would have been shredded by the vacuum left behind—or annihilated by Royal.
The Scavenger Ancestor leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Since the entire East Coast is currently unprotected, it should be the responsibility of Ethan and the Royal group to assu full command of its security."
The room erupted into hushed chaos. No one had expected this play. Even Ethan was caught off guard. It was one thing for them to retreat from Massachusetts, but to cede the entire East Coast? It was an absurd escalation. He searched for the trap: why were they giving away so much territory?
The Scavenger Leader ignored the murmurs and pressed on. "The Leader of Royal is clearly seeking more resources for his growing army. It is only fair that he defends the land he claims to rule. What do the rest of you think?"
The other Obsidian-rank leaders exchanged glances and nodded in synchronized agreent. The Leader of Celestial finally spoke, his voice echoing with false gravity. "The threat of the Outsiders is precisely why I invited the Deacon today. Landing points for these inter-dinsional groups are usually the responsibility of the Union and cannot be ceded arbitrarily. However, our groups can no longer maintain control over those sites. Our strength is spread too thin across vital interior points. Historically, the East Coast has never had an Obsidian-rank power because it was considered disputed territory. The birth of Royal is a great relief to our forces."
A ripple of realization went through the lower-ranked groups. Every organization from Bronze to Gold paid a steep monthly tribute to the ruling powers to guarantee protection against Outsiders and high-rank spiritual beasts. It was a small price to pay for survival, especially since Outsider incursions had increased dramatically in recent years, leaving a trail of staggering casualties.
The Celestial Leader raised a hand to quiet the room, preparing to drop the real weight. "To reinforce Lord Scavenger’s words, I must reveal a few more of Royal’s achievents that were previously classified as top-secret. The Olympus group—those Russian communists always trying to expand—infiltrated our borders. Their entire vanguard branch was completely annihilated by Royal."
The audience gasped, but the Leader gave them no ti to recover.
"Not only that," he continued, his voice dropping to a chilling register, "but the infamous Black Skull group—I believe everyone here knows how terrifying they are—lost one of their most powerful Elders. He was brutally executed by Royal. We have submitted all this evidence to the Union for them to judge whether Royal is capable of such a massive responsibility. This is no joke. If a single Outsider breaks through the coastal line and enters a civilian zone, a massacre is guaranteed. We cannot make this decision alone."
He turned toward the elevated throne, his eyes glinting with a hidden malice. "Deacon, I ask that you take the podium."
Ethan leaned back, his eyes narrowing into slits. He finally saw the ga. They weren’t giving him territory; they were giving him a death sentence disguised as a promotion.
It was a masterful move—the classic "carrot and the stick." If he accepted, he beca the shield for the entire East Coast, a role designed to bleed his resources dry and leave him legally liable for every drop of blood spilled by an Outsider. If he refused, he would be stripped of his Obsidian status and forced to beco a vassal to one of the very powers he had spent months crushing.
They hadn’t just cornered him; they had built a cage out of his own successes.
The Deacon stood at the podium, his posture radiating a false sense of divine impartiality. "The honor of defending our people is a massive weight, carried only with profound responsibility and courage," the Deacon began, his voice echoing with practiced gravity. "However, such a burden cannot be forced. Any lingering resentnt could lead to deliberate negligence—a tactical withdrawal ant to weaken rival groups at the cost of innocent lives."
He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Ethan’s athyst gaze. "Therefore, before any judgnt is rendered, I wish to hear the stance of the Royal group. With their leader present, I ask: Are you prepared to cast aside personal grudges and stand as the bulwark of our people against the Outsider threat? Or do you prefer to decline the mantle of an Obsidian power and instead serve as a vassal force under the protection of another?"
The room went so silent that the hum of the electronic dampeners beca a roar. Every minor leader held their breath. To be a "vassal" ant total subservience—Royal’s technology, and their territory would be legally seized and "managed" by the Scavengers or Celestial.
Ethan didn’t stand up imdiately. He leaned back, a small, dark smile touching his lips. He glanced at the Matriarch, who was watching him with an expression of intense curiosity, as if waiting to see how the "little demon" would flip the board.
"Vassal?" Ethan finally spoke, his voice low but carrying to every corner of the auditorium. "That’s an interesting choice of words, Deacon. But I think you’ve misunderstood the nature of Royal. We don’t serve, and we certainly don’t hide behind the skirts of those who are too afraid to hold their own borders."
He stood up slowly, the movent fluid and predatory.
"If the ’great’ powers of this country are so pathetic that they must beg a newcor to do the job they’ve failed at for decades, then I suppose I have no choice," Ethan said, his voice hardening into a decree. "I will take the East Coast. I will take the responsibility. But let us be very clear about the terms."
He looked at the Scavenger Ancestor and the Celestial Leader, his eyes glowing with a cold, violet fire.
"If I am the one bleeding to keep the borders safe, then the ’tribute’ system changes today. Every group operating in the territory I defend will pay their fees to Royal—and Royal alone. And since you’ve all admitted your forces are ’too thin’ to help, any asset, mine, or facility within that zone that is currently under your ’administration’ will be transferred to Royal sovereignty imdiately as part of the logistics of defense."
The Scavenger Leader’s face paled. They had wanted to give him the responsibility, but Ethan was turning it into a legal annexation of every scrap of land and resource they still held in the East.
"You’re asking for total control," the Deacon noted, his eyes narrowing.
"I’m asking for the tools to do the job you just claid no one else can do," Ethan countered. "Unless, of course, the Union prefers to watch the East Coast burn?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers