The large silver table dominated the room, its surface gleaming under soft ambient light. Zaren, the High Arbiter, sat across from Moyo, holding a glass tablet etched with symbols in a language Moyo couldn't recognize. Silence hung heavy between them, the atmosphere taut with unspoken tension, as Atreus, the Trademaster, attempted to break the ice.
"So, I've recently learned about a delightful custom from your world. Tea time, is it called?" Atreus quipped, his voice light and conversational.
"Thank you, Atreus, but that will be all for now," Zaren interrupted without looking away from Moyo, effectively dismissing the Trademaster.
Atreus chuckled, clearly unbothered, and continued to seat himself at the table. "Zaren—may I call you Zaren? Seeing as we'll both be working hand in hand?" A chair materialized at the table's edge, and Atreus lowered himself into it gracefully, his ever-present smile firmly in place.
Zaren finally broke his gaze, turning toward the Trademaster with a narrowed glare. Moyo exhaled, relieved for the brief reprieve as Atreus continued unperturbed.
"One thing you must understand, High Arbiter, is that this is not your jurisdiction. Within these walls, my word is law, as stipulated by the system itself," Atreus said smoothly. "Lord Titan Blade is my guest, and a valued potential client of the Syndicate. I won't have you sour our relationship by giving him the impression that this is some sort of trial."
Zaren crossed his legs and leaned back, a slight scowl tugging at his features, but he said nothing. Atreus ignored him, conjuring three cups of fragrant tea. Moyo noted the citrusy aroma of lemon and wondered where Atreus had sourced such a thing.
"You are a peculiar case, Titan Blade," Zaren began, drawing Moyo's attention back to him. "Let me start by saying that I am fully aware of your experiences in the Tier 2 dungeon, as well as your... unfortunate circumstances within it."
"Does that mean you're here to compensate me for the emotional and physical damage?" Moyo shot back dryly.
Atreus barely stifled a snort, turning away to hide his amusement. Zaren's gaze darkened, and his sharp features betrayed irritation, but he continued, his tone even.
"I believe the system has compensated you quite generously, far beyond what most would receive. You've shattered the natural progression for a nascent world, disrupting the order of things entirely."
"And you've done a fine job maintaining order," Moyo replied, inclining his head slightly, though his sarcasm was evident.
"Do you deny this?" Zaren pressed, narrowing his eyes.
Moyo shrugged. "All I've done is fight to survive since the system arrived. If I've disrupted anything, it's because I had no other choice."
Zaren smirked coldly. "Then you realize you owe me a favor."
"Whatever favor I owed disappeared when a tainted appeared on our world, followed by that... pre-ascended wyvern," Moyo countered, his tone hardening.
Atreus's eyes widened slightly at the mention, while Zaren winced before recovering his composure.
"That matter has been handled," Zaren said carefully. "You have our gratitude for dealing with it."
"Oh? And how exactly have I been compensated for that?" Moyo challenged, leaning forward.
"We allowed you to walk away from that Tier 2 dungeon alive," Zaren replied, his voice cutting. "Be grateful."
"You mean to say you let me survive?" Moyo asked, incredulous.
Zaren chuckled, though it carried no warmth. "Let's not pretend ignorance, Titan Blade. We both know Ajax, the Death Blade, was on this planet. You aided him, whether knowingly or not."
Moyo raised an eyebrow, maintaining an air of confusion. "I have no idea who or what you're talking about."
Zaren's expression grew darker, and the aether in the room thickened oppressively. "Lying to a Vanguard officer is punishable by annihilation. I could unmake you where you sit."
"Careful, hound," Atreus interjected lightly, his eyes glowing faint yellow. Instantly, the oppressive atmosphere receded, and Moyo felt Atreus's power seize control of the room. "Let's not cause me to file a complaint with your superiors."
The tension between the two men was palpable, but Zaren relented, leaning back with a frustrated exhale.
"Your actions have drawn the attention of powers far beyond your understanding," Zaren said, turning his gaze back to Moyo. "Lesser factions tied to greater houses are already positioning themselves to monitor this system—and you. Their goals? Either to destroy you or recruit you."
"Recruit me?" Moyo asked, frowning.
"They cannot act directly due to the standing orders of the Vanguard. But make no mistake—they wait," Zaren explained.
"And I assume this is why the Vanguard has taken an interest?" Moyo asked.
Zaren nodded. "You've been granted a one-year respite. No external forces will be allowed to interfere. However, your world has been restricted from ascending to Tier 4 for the next five years, and no ascenders will be allowed to surpass the Advocate rank during that time."
"The one-year clause is understandable. Why restrict our growth?" Moyo asked, his voice rising.
"Do you realize what you've done?" Zaren asked, his tone sharp. "Your world has climbed three ranks in the span of one solar year—a feat that typically takes decades. You are now a curiosity for greater powers to exploit. Even now a trial world is being prepared for such an event "
"And this trial world you mentioned?" Moyo pressed.
Atreus chimed in, his tone casual. "A trial world will soon manifest as other planets in your solar system are colonized. It will serve as a battleground—a way for factions to test their mettle and, conveniently, eliminate rivals."
"And I'm expected to survive this?" Moyo asked.
"Survival isn't the question. Survival is the requirement," Zaren said flatly.
Atreus smiled warmly, offering Moyo another cup of tea. "You have six months to prepare, my lord. Enjoy your tea."
Moyo leaned back in his chair, the weight of Zaren's words pressing down on him. He stared at the gleaming silver table, his mind racing to process the implications of what had just been said. Six months. Six months to prepare not just himself but an entire world for the trials and tribulations to come. The gravity of the task loomed over him like a storm cloud.
"This trial world…" Moyo began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "What can I expect? Monsters? Aberrants? Other ascenders?"
"All of the above," Zaren replied bluntly. "A trial world is not just a battleground; it's a crucible. It tests the strength, ingenuity, and alliances of those who enter. The system itself ensures that only the strongest or most cunning survive."
"And the factions already watching us? They'll send their champions?" Moyo asked.
"Without a doubt," Zaren confirmed. "You won't just face the trial's challenges—you'll contend with those who see you as a threat or an opportunity. Some will seek to destroy you outright, while others will want to ally themselves with you. Be wary of both."
Atreus's yellow eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned forward. "And that, Lord Titan Blade, is where the Syndicate's services could be invaluable."
Moyo narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his features. "Services? What exactly are you offering?"
Atreus spread his hands in a gesture of benevolence. "Information, resources, connections. The Syndicate has a vast network spanning countless worlds. If you need intelligence on potential rivals, supplies for your ascenders, or strategic alliances, we can facilitate it."
"At what cost?" Moyo asked pointedly.
Atreus's smile widened, and for the first time, Moyo caught a glimpse of the shrewd businessman lurking beneath the genial façade. "Oh, nothing too exorbitant. Just a share in whatever spoils you claim from the trial world. A simple trade agreement, really."
"You're not seriously considering this, are you?" Zaren interjected, his voice sharp. "The Syndicate doesn't do anything out of the goodness of its heart. Their interests are always self-serving."
Atreus chuckled softly. "Oh, High Arbiter, you wound me. Our interests are aligned, are they not? A stable trial world benefits us all."
Moyo raised a hand to forestall the brewing argument. "I'll consider it. But for now, I've had enough of veiled threats and political maneuvering. I need to prepare Bastion. We're the first line of defense, and I refuse to let my people be caught off guard."
"Wise," Zaren said, rising to his feet. "I'll be watching, Titan Blade. Do not disappoint." Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, his presence a storm receding into the distance.
Atreus remained seated, swirling the tea in his cup thoughtfully. "You'll have your work cut out for you. Bastion's leaders are strong, but even the mightiest walls crumble under a coordinated assault. You'll need allies, Moyo. And sooner rather than later."
Moyo stood, towering over the Trademaster. "I'll do what needs to be done. With or without the Syndicate."
Atreus inclined his head, his enigmatic smile never faltering. "As you wish, Lord Titan Blade. But do remember: the Syndicate's doors are always open."
Moyo turned and left the room, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. As he stepped out into the bustling streets of Bastion, the city seemed brighter, more alive, yet fraught with unseen dangers. He could feel the eyes of the people on him, their hope and faith resting squarely on his shoulders. For their sake, he had to succeed.
His first priority was clear: gather Bastion's leaders and prepare for what lay ahead. The clock was ticking, and the survival of his world depended on their strength, strategy, and unity. One way or another, they would rise to meet the challenges before them.
Failure was not an option.
*********
Moyo returned to the inner sanctum of Bastion, choosing to walk through the streets rather than take a quicker route. The crowd surged around him, chanting his name, their hands outstretched as if touching him might bring them a fragment of his strength. Yet, despite their reverence, Moyo felt a gnawing sense of inadequacy. His meeting with the Trade Master and the High Arbiter had driven home how small he truly was in the grand scheme of the Archailect.
Sentinels quietly formed a protective perimeter around him, shielding him from the crowd's intensity. Moyo could have used a single Titan Walk to bypass the streets entirely, but he chose to walk among his people, offering waves and soft smiles. He took in the hope and pride in their faces as he reached the imposing walls of the inner sanctum, where Annika awaited him in her blue and white robes.
Her soft smile faltered when she saw his expression.
"You look like you've got a dozen thoughts weighing on you," she said, wrapping him in a warm hug.
Moyo exhaled deeply. "It seems the system has no intention of letting us rest."
Her frown deepened as she led him inside to the familiar golden table where the rest of the council was already assembled. Martha, engrossed in a large glass tablet, barely glanced up at his entrance. The others, however, fell silent, their conversations dying out as Josh rose to bow.
Taking his seat, Moyo surveyed the group. "Why do I get the feeling there's more trouble brewing?"
Martha looked up, shaking her head. "The Union has agreed to a meeting."
"Good, I suppose?" Moyo said hesitantly.
"They've requested it be in person," Ayo interjected, crossing her arms. Her ember orb flared ominously.
Moyo blinked, surprised. "In person? Across continents? How do they propose we accomplish that?"
"They've apparently unlocked something they call Aethertech," Boyle said, his voice carrying a sharp edge of disapproval. "Machines enhanced with aether manipulation, merging pre-system technology with post-system functionality."
"Essentially, they've converted their old weapons into something compatible with the system," Martha explained.
Annika frowned. "Are we talking about aether-powered nukes?"
Martha shook her head. "No, thankfully. The system prohibits weapons of that scale at our current world tier. But even without them, their advancements are significant enough to intimidate the lesser factions."
Moyo leaned back in his chair. "So this meeting is a power play—a chance to flaunt their advancements and pressure us."
Martha nodded. "Precisely. They'll be expecting you to come alone as per their terms, but we've been preparing for this." She tossed a small blue box to Boyle, who caught it deftly.
Boyle opened it, revealing a glimmering schematic. Martha continued, "Someone in the Union was greedy—or desperate—enough to sell these blueprints to the Syndicate, who, in turn, sold them to us for a paltry ten Aurums."
"Ten Aurums?" Moyo raised an eyebrow.
"Considering its value, it was a steal," Martha replied. "But this isn't the only edge we've secured. There's another construct I believe we can use to our advantage."
Aje appeared, projecting the image of a circular metal ring suspended in the air.
"That," Martha said, gesturing to the hologram, "is an Aether Gate. It's used across countless civilizations for travel—primarily interplanetary. But it will get you to the Union's territory without the hazards of crossing the zones on foot."
"Even with the gate, sending you alone is risky," Idris said grimly.
"It's why I'll go with him," Josh said firmly, his voice unyielding as he met Moyo's gaze.
Moyo considered whether it was the right moment to discuss his concerns with Josh, but Martha interjected. "The terms were clear: only the Titan."
Moyo reclined in his chair, processing the situation. "Fine," he said finally. "Get me the Union. Let's see who's really in charge over there."
*******
The image of a man with a commanding presence flickered to life in the middle of the room. The video transmission displayed the intricate details of the backdrop—a massive carved eagle clutching a lightning bolt in its talons, its wings spread wide, seemingly cast from gold. The man seated before it wore an impeccably tailored suit, his salt-and-pepper beard immaculately trimmed. His demeanor was calm, almost cold, with his fingers locked together and a faint, unreadable smile on his face.
"Lord Titan Blade, this is quite the surprise," the man began, his voice smooth and measured.
Moyo inclined his head slightly. "Who am I speaking with?"
"I am Consul Isiah, head of the Union," the man replied, his tone carrying the weight of authority.
"I see. It seems we've gotten off on the wrong foot, Consul, seeing as your people have been sowing chaos within my city," Moyo said, his voice even but carrying an edge.
Isiah leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanging. "Neither I nor the Union were aware of Mr. Assad's activities or those of his... associates, within your walls, Lord Titan Blade. Or may I call you Lord Moyo?"
Moyo shrugged. "Call me what you wish."
"Indeed. These individuals were merely tasked with observing Bastion, ensuring it was not in need of protection. After all, despite Lady Martha's impressive efforts to maintain secrecy, word still reached us of your grievous injuries at the hands of the necromancer. The Union, and I daresay the rest of the world, owe you their gratitude for dealing with such a menace," Isiah said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Moyo nodded thoughtfully, then sat upright, his demeanor shifting. "Consul Isiah, I don't know what the Union thinks Bastion is, or why you've chosen to target us, but you must be aware of the strength we hold. Are you not?"
Isiah raised an eyebrow. "Is that a subtle threat, Lord Titan Blade?"
"Not at all," Moyo replied, shaking his head slightly. "I'm a straightforward man. I have neither the time nor patience for political games. Perhaps you're unaware, but our world is on the brink of invasion by forces far superior to the combined might of all our factions."
Isiah frowned, his composure slipping slightly.
"Yes," Moyo continued. "You might not know that, but I do. I've stared into the depths of the system, even if only for a brief moment, and I've seen the truth. To them, we are nothing—less than pawns. Our only hope is to unite. Together, perhaps we stand a chance."
Moyo's eyes glowed faintly with purple light, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to freeze Isiah in place.
"So, I will honor your terms," Moyo said, his tone resolute. "I will bring only one ascender with me—my sentinel. But make no mistake, if there is even a hint of treachery, the system itself will recognize that I came in good faith. And the consequences for the Union, and for you by extension, will be... dire."
Isiah seemed to shake off the oppressive aura emanating from Moyo, straightening in his chair. "The Union does not stand for threats, no matter who delivers them, Lord Moyo."
"Again, Consul Isiah, I do not deal in threats. I act. Oh, and do pass this message along to whoever is truly in charge—Proconsul Isiah Bladewright," Moyo said, watching the man's eyes widen in shock just before cutting the transmission.
The image faded, leaving the room in silence. Moyo leaned back in his chair, his thoughts churning as he turned to Martha.
"As I suspected," she said, breaking the silence, "he isn't the head of the Union, is he?"
"No," Moyo replied, his tone grim. "Whoever runs things hides in the shadows."
Martha nodded. "Shall I proceed with the construction of the Aether Gate?"
"Yes, time is of the essence," Moyo said, standing. "And send a notice to the Trade Master. Inform him of my intention to host a summit here in Bastion. I want all the powers on this continent gathered in one place."
"Gathering them here puts Bastion at risk," Idris said, his tone cautious.
Moyo shook his head. "If anyone dares move against Bastion, we'll crush them. They need to understand who's in charge."
He turned to Josh. "Gather your sentinels. Meet me outside the walls of Bastion."
With that, he left the room, the others dispersing as the weight of the impending confrontation settled over them all.
*********
"So, what do you think of him?" a voice asked from the shadows of the communication room.
Isiah Bladewright, Proconsul and head of the Union's military, exhaled deeply, his breath shaky as he composed himself. "He's strong. Everything about him exudes power," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and unease.
He glanced down at his trembling hands, clenching them tightly into fists. A smile tugged at his lips, a dangerous blend of excitement and apprehension bubbling within him.
"How would he fare against you?" the female voice continued, her tone calm and inquisitive.
Isiah snorted, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "I doubt I'd last a whole minute against him. But even then..." He trailed off, his smile broadening into something darker. "I must test myself against such a monster. To fight him would be an honor."
The voice fell silent for a moment, as though the speaker was lost in thought. Then she spoke again, her tone more calculating. "And the Consul?"
Isiah paused, blinking at the question, as though caught off guard. "One chance," he said finally. "The Consul would have one chance to strike a fatal blow. And if that fails? If the Titan survives that blow..." His voice grew grave. "I fear for the retaliation that would follow."
"He is but one man," the voice replied dismissively, her words carrying a haughty confidence. "We are the Union."
Isiah shook his head slowly, a bitter smile creeping onto his face. "I wish I could explain it better, but when he comes... you'll see what I mean."
With that, he rose from his seat, his shadow stretching long in the dim glow of the crystals that lit the room. As he stepped out, the lights dimmed and finally extinguished behind him, leaving the room shrouded in darkness.