Pyris stood tall, his voice unwavering and resolute. Every word that came out of his mouth was laced with authority and contempt. His eyes burned with intensity as he stared down Alexander, who now seemed to shrink under the weight of Pyris' commanding presence.
The silence in the hall was oppressive, as if the very air had been sucked out of the room. Each person held their breath, eyes darting between the two as the confrontation reached its peak.
"Don't you dare mention my name!" Pyris' voice was sharp, like a blade cutting through the tension. "Vice president? You think you're fit to lead this club, let alone make me your subordinate? The audacity!"
In a swift motion, Pyris moved forward, his steps deliberate and powerful. He was now standing on the platform, face-to-face with Alexander. Their eyes locked, an unspoken battle raging between them. Pyris' authoritative aura was so overpowering that it compelled Alexander to take a step back, an instinctual reaction to the force before him. A gap formed between them, the power dynamic visibly shifting.
Alexander's lips parted, but no words came. His mind scrambled for a response, for something to counter Pyris' assault, but he was lost. He stood there, exposed, unable to muster a single coherent thought. Pyris had cornered him. A small smile curled on Pyris' lips—he knew he had won the psychological battle, at least for now.
The hall was as silent as a graveyard, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Everyone was watching, frozen in place, uncertain of what would happen next.
This wasn't just a personal feud anymore—it was a battle that threatened the delicate balance of the club, a struggle for power between the committee president and a descendant of the club's founding family, an Obsidian.
"This is unacceptable!" Alexander finally managed to squeeze the words from his quivering lips, his voice betraying his fear. "How can you threaten the club president like this?"
Pyris' response came swiftly, his voice booming across the room without the need for a microphone. "Unacceptable? Do you know what's truly unacceptable, club president?" His tone was dripping with disdain. The intensity in his gaze settled once again on Alexander, pinning him in place. "What's unacceptable is you using the authority of this position to settle your petty grudges against me—a grudge, I might add, for reasons I don't even know!"
A collective gasp rippled through the room as Pyris' accusation hung in the air.
"Grudge? Don't be—" Alexander started to defend himself, but Pyris cut him off without hesitation, his voice like thunder.
"I couldn't care less about your hatred! You don't even rank in the top 1% of people who despise me, and unlike you, most of them have actual power. You—young prince of the human empire—you're nothing to me, nothing but your title. So hate me all you want; it means absolutely nothing."
The crowd was stunned into silence. Even those who had once supported Alexander found themselves questioning his leadership. Pyris wasn't just throwing accusations—he was laying bare the ugly truth for all to see.
"But what angers me," Pyris continued, his voice a low growl, "is how you've used my family's club—the name we have protected for generations—to satisfy your personal vendettas. You had the audacity to demand I become your subordinate, and in such a shameful manner no less!"
He turned his gaze toward the other committee members, his eyes lingering briefly on Alexa, who seemed more fascinated than alarmed by the unfolding drama. Pyris found no judgment in her gaze, only admiration.
"I'd say you're unfit for this position," Pyris declared, his voice firm. He then addressed the room at large, his question sharp. "Members, how do we elect committee members in this club?"
As if under a spell, the entire room responded in unison, "Through voting!"
Pyris smiled. He knew the tides had turned in his favor. "Club president, you went against the very policies of this club for your own selfish interests!" He turned back to the committee members and the assembled crowd. "What has Alexander Eloise done for this club in the past three years? What has his leadership accomplished for Obsidian Roar, and how have you, talented individuals, benefited from his presidency?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone was thinking back over Alexander's tenure, and the answers were clear. The club had been in a steady decline, its once-glorious reputation tarnished under his leadership. Even the newer members could see the damage that had been done.
"What are you trying to do?" Alexander's voice cracked as he shouted, desperation evident. But Pyris paid him no mind.
"Nothing," Pyris said calmly, "because nothing has been done under your watch. Apart from using this club for your personal gain, you've driven it into the ground. My family's legacy, buried under your incompetence."
There was no denying it now—Pyris had been ruthless, perhaps even petty, but the truth of his words could not be ignored. He wasn't afraid to cast aside Alexander, to remove him from power for even the smallest slight. And he didn't care.
"You want to wield authority over what's mine?" Pyris' eyes flashed dangerously. "Then here, take it!"
He turned to the committee members and, with a voice that echoed through the hall, declared, "I hereby vote for the immediate stepdown of Alexander Eloise as the club president!"
The weight of Pyris' words had ignited a wildfire in the hall, a frenzied buzz of discussions and whispers rising among the club members. They weren't just talking about what was happening in front of them—they were trying to wrap their heads around how quickly the balance of power had shifted in such a short span of time.
As the realization of the gravity of the situation sank in, members murmured among themselves, exchanging worried glances. They began to question the credibility of Alexander, the man who had held the highest position in the club for the past three years.
His authority, once seen as unquestionable, now seemed flimsy under Pyris' merciless scrutiny.
Alexander, still reeling from the public dismantling of his leadership, stood frozen. He could feel the weight of the room pressing down on him, a silent judgment from all sides.
His gaze, full of burning rage, was fixed on Pyris, as though he could burn holes into him with sheer anger. But Pyris didn't flinch. He had cornered Alexander without needing to raise his voice or use physical force. He had done it all with his words—cold, calculated, and devastating.
By all means, what Pyris was doing was legal, even within the framework of the club's policies. His challenge to the club president and his call for an immediate vote weren't acts of rebellion, but of rightful procedure.
Pyris wasn't abusing his position as the descendant of the Obsidian family. If anything, that lineage only added weight to his words, further solidifying his claims and the righteousness of his cause.
It seemed like Pyris was succeeding.
Alexander glanced around the room, desperately searching for support. He plastered a fake smile on his face, hoping that his fellow committee members, at least, would stand by him.
*****
My work has gone premium, thanks for the support throughout and finally we're here, don't stop, this wasn't the end goal, but the first step into the competitive deep waters!
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