A low, humorless laugh escaped Zaeryn as the system’s final advisory glowed in his vision: ’High-value target.’
The words were so clinical and detached, as if seducing the High Commander of the Citadel was as simple as completing a side quest.
’Sure, System,’ he thought, sarcasm sharpening his tone. ’While I’m at it, why don’t I ask my grandma, Queen Athena, for her Vitae signature too? Maybe there’s a family discount.’
The thought was pure mockery, but a sliver of genuine temptation followed. He couldn’t deny the allure; Queen Athena was the most powerful Vitae wielder in the Queendom, and acquiring her abilities would be the ultimate prize. But the idea was absurd. His first meeting with the Queen would likely involve a formal greeting followed by a swift execution order, not a warm family reunion.
He swiped the interface away with a frustrated flick of his wrist. It wasn’t the only ridiculous suggestion it had made. First, it had pushed him toward Kayla, a woman who practically considered him a genetic mistake.
The thought of bonding with her was repulsive. Even if a truce were possible, he wouldn’t take it, because forming a bond with the one person who’d spent his entire life looking at him with cold contempt would be the ultimate surrender.
To him, it was an admission that he was everything she accused him of being: a burden, a walking anomaly, and a flaw in the Matriarchy’s perfect order. He would rather be powerless than give her the satisfaction.
And now it was suggesting Lysara, a Tier 1 outlier who was admittedly gorgeous but likely viewed him as a fascinating specimen to be dissected. The system wasn’t a strategic advisor; it was a cosmic dating app with a death wish.
After he was done looking at the stats, Zaeryn decided to take a nap and rest.
Meanwhile, at the Imperial Royal Council, in the capital sector.
The Imperial Council was the political heart of the Queendom, its authority absolute and unquestioned within its domain. Here, the Queendom’s most influential matriarchs and council members convened to shape the destiny of their civilization. Their decisions rippled across the sectors, determined military strategy, and dictated the very laws of their existence.
The air in the Starlight Chamber was cool and still, the domed ceiling glittering with holographic screens. Princess Athea stood before the obsidian table, her posture rigid as she stared at the holographic files. Before her and the half-dozen matriarchs of the Imperial Royal Council, a huge holographic screen dominated the space, showing files detailing the state of their endless war.
At that same moment, the doors hissed open and her cousin, Princess Valerie, breezed into the chamber with a carefree smile on her face. She was dressed in traditional royal outfits. Valerie was a younger royal whose gentle features and warm eyes were a stark contrast to Athea’s own glacial composure.
With a bored eye roll, she said, "Sorry I’m late. I was busy not drowning in existential dread. You should try it sometime."
Athea didn’t turn. She was already used to Valerie’s outrageous behavior, where she didn’t respect her role as a member of the council.
"The fate of this Queendom is not a joke, Valerie, so it does not matter if you show up or not."
Across from her sat Lady Calyra, her expression a mask of bored propriety, as if the fate of entire sectors was merely a tedious formality. Beside her was General Eva Rostova, a living legend in the Queendom.
As a Tier 2 Vitae wielder, she was a true pinnacle of power, possessing not only three Class-A abilities but also a rare S-Class ability that had turned the tide of countless battles.
Unlike the cold, pristine elegance of a scientist or the battle-hardened ferocity of a frontline commander, General Eva Rostova was different. She slouched in her chair, one arm draped over the backrest, her unbound curls bouncing as she tossed her head with a lazy smirk. Her winter-sharp eyes glinted with confidence.
After an hour of tense debate, Calra steered the meeting to its core.
"Must we drag this out further?" Calyra’s voice carried the practiced boredom of someone who’d attended a thousand such meetings. "The recruitment list has been sitting before us for an hour. Pick a name, send Captain Nyx, be done with it."
Athea nodded. "The Aegis Division needs fresh minds," she said, her voice smooth as polished steel. "I propose Sage Stellan."
She swiped the air, and a hologram bloomed: a young woman with silvery hair and violet eyes, her faint smile radiating quiet brilliance.
Calyra scoffed softly. "A 23-year-old, Athea? Is this because of her family name? Her family’s name can buy recognition, but not wisdom. She’s never seen a Vorthak."
Athea’s gaze didn’t waver. "Her intellect is a weapon, almost unmatched by anyone in this room, sister. Her work on bio-energetic resonance outstrips most by years." She summoned another file: Dr. Illara Veyne, a nervous-looking scientist. "Illara’s brilliant but cautious. Sage’s vision will spark her. They’re the perfect pair."
Valerie leaned forward, her grin widening. "What, no one with a bit more... fire? Sage sounds like she’d rather crunch numbers than host a victory bash, and Illara is similar.
They’ll only bore each other to death. We need someone who can truly spark Illara’s creative mind, not bore her with spreadsheets." She winked at Calyra. "Bet she’d design a Vorthak-proof dance floor before planning a party."I bet her idea of a wild Friday night is analyzing the Vitae signature of a cocktail."
Calyra rolled her eyes, looking away. "Only you laugh at your jokes, because they are terrible. Honestly, I have no idea why they made you part of the imperial council."
"You and I both. I would rather I was not here." Valerie shot back.
"Well, you can just quit princess." Eva Rostova suggested.
"Now, why would I do that? I think I like it here."
Athea sighed, shaking her head, "Valerie, focus. if you can’t contribute anything, then just shut up."
Valerie’s eyes twinkled. "Lighten up, cousin. A little fun never killed a Vorthak."
A few council members stifled smirks at that joke. Athea’s eyes narrowed. "Enough."
Rostova tilted her head, her smirk sharpening as she tapped the table. "She’s got a point though, Sage is a gamble. We need someone who’s been in the fire before," She swiped up a new hologram with a lazy flick: Daphne Virellith, sharp-featured, blue hair framing violet eyes that burned with confidence.