"Ooooh..." A wide, almost mischievous smile spread across Robinâs face, but he quickly suppressed it, raising an eyebrow with feigned curiosity.
"So... what exactly is this so-called âHuman Powers Consortiumâ?"
"Just a loose gathering, really," Pitsu replied, waving his hand dismissively a few times, "a meeting ground for representatives of various human factionsâthose who seek foreign relations or inter-factional diplomacy."
He snorted.
"But letâs not kid ourselvesâitâs nothing more than a glorified bazaar. The Consortium holds no executive power, the representatives almost never gather together in one place, and thereâs never any actual decision-making happening. It started with noble intentions, trying to resist the systemic oppression of humans in Mid-Sector 100... but in the end, it devolved into something closer to a marketplace or an expo!"
Frustration bled into his tone as he shook his head.
"Walk into any headquarters of this so-called Consortium and what do you find? Rows upon rows of delegates from clans, academies, powerful families, and mega-merchantsâall of them showing off their wares, flaunting unique services or rare products. Each delegate is there for one thing and one thing only: to outcompete the others, to poach clients and secure buyers."
His voice rose slightly.
"You could stand in the center and scream, âMy clan is on the brink of extinction!â and not a single head would turn. But whisper that youâre in the market for some rare, canned blue cheese... and suddenly youâve got three or four powers fighting to shove it into your hands!"
Robin couldnât hold back his amusement any longer.
A short chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a full laugh.
"Heh... thatâs just too perfect. So human."
He leaned back slightly, eyes distant as he processed what heâd heard.
It all made perfect sense.
Human factions had always been inward-looking. Each one consumed by its own internal crisesâterritorial disputes, financial shortages, political rivalries. Their focus was narrow, survival-oriented. And in that mindset, the sufferings of their neighbors didnât register.
If an adjacent human world was on the verge of annihilation?
Too bad, Iâve got problems of my own.
If a prestigious academy was besieged?
Sorry, my water-pressure pipelines are corrodingâI need to fix them first.
Who had the time, energy, or resources to fight for someone elseâs ideals?
For
humanity
as a whole? That was a romantic notionâunrealistic and unaffordable.
And thatâs why the very concept of a
union
âa unified front for human powersâwas flawed from its inception.
Without a central force to enforce unity, without a true seat of power capable of imposing its will, the idea of collective action was a fantasy.
In a twisted way, Robin actually admired that the Consortium had turned into a bustling trade hub.
At least those delegates werenât completely uselessâtheyâd found a way to be productive.
"And your grandfather," Robin said slowly, his tone now more skeptical, "he wants to seek refuge among such... merchants in disguise?"
Pitsu let out a long sigh.
"Honestly? If he were to hint, even slightly, that the Maizer family was open to joining another power, every single faction would line up for a chance to take us inâwithout a secondâs hesitation. Think about it: Aside for my grandfather, we have six active World Cataclysms and another six in the making. Thatâs a dream come true for any power."
But then his voice dipped into something heavier, more bitter.
"But my grandfather knows better. He knows they wouldnât welcome us out of kindness. They wouldnât let us keep our lands. They wouldnât let us remain the
Maizer Family
."
He clenched a fist.
"The moment we joined, weâd be absorbed, devoured from the inside. Our identity would vanish. Our long, proud, storied legacy would be erased, replaced by someone elseâs banner. And that... is something no one in our family could ever bear."
Robinâs relaxed expression slowly stiffened.
What Pitsu had just saidâthose wordsâwere perhaps the most absurd contradiction Robin had ever heard from him.
If Pitsu truly understood what heâd just said... he might realize how hypocritical and self-defeating it was.
But Robin knewâhe had always knownâPitsuâs thinking was shaped by simpler frameworks.
When they first met, Pitsu had ranted about how humans couldnât build empires. About how systemic oppression and external pressure crushed their potential.
He spoke of clans, academies, economic giantsâthe
true powers
of the human world.
But Robin had known right away:
That was nonsense. Utter delusion.
What was stopping a few strong families from banding together? From merging their resources, their bloodlines, their talents, into one true empire?
But the real problemâRobin had come to understandâwas far more deeply rooted than anyone dared admit.
Every family wanted the crown.
No patriarch, no heir apparent, would ever
willingly
give up their title, their pride, their sovereignty.
To stand behind another, to call someone else
Your Majesty
?
That was a humiliation few were capable of enduring.
Why would they?
They already had their own domains. Their own armies. Their own names engraved in the stones of history.
Sovereignty, to them, was not a luxury. It was a
birthright.
And even when fate struck down a few familiesâleaving them landless, defeated, clinging to survivalâthose who dared to merge usually did so out of desperation, not vision.
The result?
Not an empire.
Not even a kingdom.
Just a
patchwork clan
, with a shiny new name and an oversized council full of bickering elders.
Each one pulling strings in the shadows, each with old grudges, each with sons and nephews and cousins who deserved "a voice."
Robin had seen it unfold before.
The Nihari Union Sect was a living fossil of that dysfunction.
Unity without a singular will was not unity at all.
If â
if
â all the human factions: the noble families, the ancient clans, the scholarly academies, and the trading syndicates, could bend the knee to a single will...
If they could
truly
rally under a monarch with the strength and ambition of someone like Lord Hedrick...
Then, yes.
A Human Empire could rise.
One not to be dismissedâan empire mighty enough to become a Millennial Empire.
One that could reclaim the dignity humanity had lost.
But that, Robin knew, was a delusion.
No one would unite of their own will.
Because every man thinks
he
should be the king.
And thatâs why, after everything Robin had seenâafter every betrayal, every negotiation that ended in ashes, every plea ignored out of prideâhe finally understood:
Only war can unify.
Only war can bring peace.
Everything else... was theater.
Everything else... was an illusion.
Robin scratched his head with frustration, exhaling through clenched teeth.
He was tiredâtired of humanityâs short-sightedness.
Of their pride, their cowardice, their inability to see the bigger picture.
Then he turned, locking eyes with Pitsu once again.
"Listen closely," he said, voice low but charged with power. "I want you to return to your grandfather."
"What?!" Pitsu blinked, shocked. "But... didnât you accept me? I thought I could serve you well! I swear, I wonât let you down!"
He rushed closer, almost pleading nowâso unlike the proud descendant of the Maizer bloodline who had spoken so boldly earlier.
Robin didnât respond with warmth.
He simply averted his gaze, annoyed.
"Get up. And be silent."
His voice cut like steel.
"Thereâs a message I need you to deliver to your grandfather.
A message so important, you must deliver it even if it costs you your life.
Do you understand me?"
Pitsuâs expression shifted.
He swallowed.
Hard.
"Y-Yes. What message...?"
But Robin didnât answer immediately.
Instead, he raised a single finger.
From its tip, golden-white energy spiraled out like stardust, condensing slowly into the shape of an ancient, runed tomeâhovering in the air, glowing with celestial light.
Robin opened his mouth, and his voice dropped in tone.
"Before I say anything... you must place your soul sense into this oathbook. Swear loyalty to meâcomplete, unquestioning loyalty. If youâre serious about following me... then this is your beginning."
Pitsu didnât hesitate.
His soul moved with lightning speedâdiving into the oathbook.
His body flinchedâjust slightlyâwhen the ancient energies seared his oath into being.
A soul brand.
A covenant.
He exhaled.
"Done. My loyalty is yours. Now... whatâs the message?"
Robin stared at him for a heartbeat... then chuckled softly, almost in disbelief.
"...I didnât think my first World Cataclysm would swear allegiance to me in this way."
He waved his hand, recalling the oathbook into his essence.
In its place, a new artifact appeared: a tablet, unlike any Pitsu had seenâsleek, dark, edged with shimmering silver runes.
Robin handed it over.
Then pointed a finger at Pitsuâs chest, voice dead-serious:
"You will contact himâ not publicly. Not through channels. Privately.And tell him this: There exists a path for him to return to Ceramon. And not just return to his homeland... but to rule it. Alone. As its one true monarch.
Robin stepped closer, now looking Pitsu dead in the eyes.
"Listen to what Iâm about to say... and remember every word as if your life depends on itâbecause it will."