The shock of their breakthroughs still hangs in the air when, only days later, the five rulers gather their councils and armies.
In each hall, murmurs ripple among nobles and elders.
Some protest, their pride clinging to the empire like a rotting chain.
But the rulers, now peak Tier 6, silence them with presence alone.
Wesia, Royal Council Hall.
A noble slams his fist on the table. "This is madness! To strike at the top rank. Do you intend to drag us all into the abyss?"
King Ravok rises slowly, his aura leaking into the chamber like a crushing tide. The nobles stagger, their voices choking in their throats. His eyes narrow.
"Treason?" His voice is calm, iron-heavy. "No. Treason was the empire abandoning us. What we do now… is survival. And survival means victory."
The nobles fall silent. None dare argue further.
Raedel Clan Keep.
Selira sits at the head of a long table, her voice cool, her gaze sharp.
