Ethan finally spoke, his voice cutting through the heavy tension like a chilled blade. "If youâre 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 didnât flinch. "I think thereâs a misunderstanding. We donât 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 same. Every Obsidian-rank group has been forced to pull back due to the immense 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 behindâor 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 assume 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 agreement. 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-dimensional 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 Scavengerâs words, I must reveal a few more of Royalâs achievements that were previously classified as top-secret. The Olympus groupâthose Russian communists always trying to expandâinfiltrated our borders. Their entire vanguard branch was completely annihilated by Royal."
The audience gasped, but the Leader gave them no time to recover.
"Not only that," he continued, his voice dropping to a chilling register, "but the infamous Black Skull groupâI believe everyone here knows how terrifying they areâlost 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 game. They werenât giving him territory; they were giving him a death sentence disguised as a promotion.
It was a masterful moveâthe classic "carrot and the stick." If he accepted, he became 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 become a vassal to one of the very powers he had spent months crushing.
They hadnât 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 resentment could lead to deliberate negligenceâa tactical withdrawal meant to weaken rival groups at the cost of innocent lives."
He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Ethanâs amethyst gaze. "Therefore, before any judgment 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 became a roar. Every minor leader held their breath. To be a "vassal" meant total subservienceâRoyalâs technology, and their territory would be legally seized and "managed" by the Scavengers or Celestial.
Ethan didnât stand up immediately. 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. "Thatâs an interesting choice of words, Deacon. But I think youâve misunderstood the nature of Royal. We donât serve, and we certainly donât hide behind the skirts of those who are too afraid to hold their own borders."
He stood up slowly, the movement fluid and predatory.
"If the âgreatâ powers of this country are so pathetic that they must beg a newcomer to do the job theyâve 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 âtributeâ system changes today. Every group operating in the territory I defend will pay their fees to Royalâand Royal alone. And since youâve all admitted your forces are âtoo thinâ to help, any asset, mine, or facility within that zone that is currently under your âadministrationâ will be transferred to Royal sovereignty immediately as part of the logistics of defense."
The Scavenger Leaderâs 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.
"Youâre asking for total control," the Deacon noted, his eyes narrowing.
"Iâm asking for the tools to do the job you just claimed no one else can do," Ethan countered. "Unless, of course, the Union prefers to watch the East Coast burn?"