The Silver Plains mansion, with its grand halls and golden chandeliers, stood as a symbol of its President's unshakable power. However, within its regal walls, a conversation unfolded that delved into the very limits of strength and authority.
Garin, the ever-curious butler, placed a fresh cup of tea before President Vinay. The elder servant's brow furrowed as he mulled over their previous discussion about aura. As Veeran leaned back in his chair, lost in thought, Garin decided to speak.
"Sir, if I may ask," he began tentatively, "is there a limit to aura? Surely even the strongest of beings must have boundaries."
Vinay's lips curled into a sly smile. "A limit to aura? That, Garin, depends on the wielder's capacity, their experience, and the sacrifices they've made. But let me explain it in terms of the **hierarchy of aura strength.**"
He paused, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he outlined the levels:
- **Town Level:** These are the weakest aura wielders. Their power is enough to decimate a small town, reducing homes and streets to rubble in mere moments. Most rookie aura users fall into this category.
- **City Level:** Stronger wielders who can obliterate an entire city in the blink of an eye. Their aura is powerful enough to level skyscrapers and turn bustling metropolises into ghost towns.
- **State Level:** These wielders are far rarer, their aura capable of annihilating entire regions. Forests, rivers, mountains—nothing stands in their way.
- **Country Level:** At this level, the power becomes terrifying. Few in history have achieved this rank, their aura capable of wiping out entire nations. A country-level wielder can leave a scar on the world that lasts for generations.
- **Planet Level:** The pinnacle of power. Only legends have reached this level, their aura capable of destroying entire planets. A single strike from such an individual could bring an entire world to its knees.
Garin's eyes widened as he absorbed this hierarchy. "Planet level…" he whispered in awe. "Has anyone in history ever reached that level?"
Vinay nodded solemnly, his gaze turning distant. "There was one."
The room seemed to darken as Vinay began to recount the tale. "The **6th President of Dusthaven**, from 159 years ago. His name is still spoken in hushed tones across Mars. He was an 18-foot-tall giant, a man whose very presence could freeze an army in its tracks. His aura was unrivaled, the likes of which the world hasn't seen since."
"What was his name?" Garin asked, leaning forward, utterly captivated.
"**Rokarn **," Vinay said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "A man born of war, shaped by bloodshed, and destined to dominate. His aura was a deep crimson, fueled by unrelenting rage. It's said that during the infamous **Massacre of Blackstone Valley**, Rokarn wiped out an entire army—500,000 soldiers—with a single strike."
Garin gasped, horrified yet enthralled. "A single strike?"
Vinay nodded grimly. "He raised his hand, summoned a pillar of energy from the heavens, and unleashed it upon the valley. The explosion was so immense that the shockwaves were felt thousands of miles away. The ground cracked, rivers boiled, and the very air burned. To this day, Blackstone Valley remains a barren wasteland, a constant reminder of Rokarn's terrifying power."
"Why would he do such a thing?" Garin asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Because the soldiers dared to rebel against him," Vinay replied coldly. "Rokarn didn't tolerate defiance. His reign was one of fear and dominance, and while his methods were brutal, no one could deny his strength. Even the strongest aura wielders today pale in comparison to him."
The butler sat back, shaken by the tale. "It's hard to believe someone like that truly existed."
"Oh, he existed," Vinay said darkly. "And though he's long gone, his legacy still casts a shadow over Mars. People whisper his name when they speak of strength, and even the most powerful leaders today can't erase the fear he instilled in the world."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Rokarn's story hanging heavy in the air. But Garin, ever curious, broke the silence with another question.
"Sir, speaking of leaders, how is the **Global President** elected? I've heard it's a highly prestigious position, but the process seems… complicated."
Veeran's expression softened slightly, the topic shifting to something more bureaucratic. "The election of the Global President is a spectacle, Garin. It happens every five years, and the process is as much about politics as it is about power."
He leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "Here's how it works: Every country on Mars has its own National President, like me. When the time for the election arrives, each National President selects a handful of trusted delegates—individuals who embody the nation's achievements and values. These delegates are sent to the **Global Parliament**, the central governing body of Mars."
"What happens in the Global Parliament?" Garin asked, intrigued.
Vinay smirked. "The delegates present their country's accomplishments, highlighting all the good things their nation has done over the past five years. They argue why their President deserves to lead Mars as a whole. It's a battle of words, strategies, and alliances."
"And then?"
"The Global Parliament deliberates," Vinay continued. "For twelve days, the representatives debate, analyze, and weigh the merits of each candidate. It's a cutthroat process, full of backroom deals and political maneuvering. But in the end, a winner is chosen, and the new Global President is announced."
"It sounds… intense," Garin remarked.
"Intense is an understatement," Vinay replied with a chuckle. "The position of Global President carries immense power. They oversee the entire planet, mediate international disputes, and make decisions that affect billions of lives. It's no wonder every nation fights tooth and nail to secure the position."
"Have you ever considered running for Global President, sir?" Garin asked, a hint of admiration in his tone.
Vinay's smile turned sly. "Let's just say, Garin, that my ambitions don't stop at the Silver Plains."
The butler chuckled softly, though he couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Vinay's ambitions were as vast as the stars, and Garin suspected that his master wouldn't rest until his name was etched into the annals of history, just like Rokarn the Titan.
As the night wore on, the two men continued their discussion, the glow of the holographic display casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world celebrated the victory of Manav and Ryan, blissfully unaware of the forces at play behind the scenes. Forces that could one day rival even the Crimson Serpent.