Night reached the subterranean floor through a slow draining of ambient light, followed by a bitter drop in temperature. Inside the Convention, heavy air turned cold against the glow of the border, while long grass beyond it sank into darkness.
Near Roy's chair, Eisenhower came to a halt with enough hesitation to make the words feel wrong before he spoke them. "Captain. You are not going to believe this. Come with me."
Roy followed him toward the perimeter, and within a few steps, JFK, Truman, FDR, and Eryndra had fallen in behind him, their combined presence turning a simple walk into something that felt far too much like an execution detail.
Just outside the sovereign boundary, a family knelt in the dirt. Two parents, two children, all bowed low, though their bodies made little sense together. Scaled plating covered the father's shoulders in thick armor-like ridges, while the mother had the lean, furred build of a stalking predator. Between them, their children carried mismatched pieces of both anatomies, young bodies assembled from traits that should have belonged to separate species.
From the dirt, the scaled father raised his head and spoke in flawless High Tongue. "We beg to be released from the tyranny of Delvar Palar."
At the edge of the asphalt, Roy crossed his arms and kept every inch of suspicion where it belonged. "What is the play here? You want me to take your kids because you loaded them with something explosive?"
Pain passed through the father's face, but his hands stayed flat against the dirt. ".What? No. If you can take us, take us. If you can only take the children, take the children. Anything to give them a chance."
Beside him, the furred mother lifted her gaze with military control barely holding desperation in place. "My name is Kaelia. This is my mate, Vorn, and our children, Tix and Ril. I hold a military rank within the capital forces. I can provide strategic intel regarding the coming siege if you guarantee our freedom."
At the word rank, Eryndra leaned forward, and a quiet whine ran through FDR and Truman's servos as both Presidroids readied themselves for a trained enemy inside speaking range.
Whatever sympathy Roy had been willing to consider stayed behind his suspicion. "You are in no position to barter with me. You will tell me exactly what you know, and I will decide whether or not it is enough to save you."
"They are preparing a coordinated push," Kaelia said. "Commanders are stacking bodies in every staging corridor, drafting anything that can still stand, and drilling the lesser servants just enough to keep them moving in formation."
"To teach them how to fight?" Roy asked.
"To teach them how to march," Kaelia said. "Their instincts already know how to kill. The drills keep the ranks from collapsing before they reach you. Our total force numbered two million before your arrival." Her gaze passed over the Presidroids around Roy. "You erased roughly two hundred thousand in the opening volley. The rest are waiting for the order."
Roy let the number sit with the family still bowed in the dirt, the children trembling between their parents, until Jefferson raised one hand and sovereign script unfolded around Kaelia, Vorn, Tix, and Ril. Four temporary visas wrote themselves into the laws of the Convention, granting them passage without letting the domain's pressure crush them into the pavement.
The family crossed the threshold and folded into another bow, Vorn and Kaelia spreading their clawed hands flat against the asphalt in desperate display. Roy returned the gesture badly, caught between suspicion and the awful formality of refugees begging not to be killed, and the mistake lasted half a second before a sharp metallic clang cut through the quiet and dragged his attention back.
FDR had the youngest child by the wrist, his mechanical grip locked hard enough to stop the bone spike jutting from the child's forearm inches from Roy's throat.
The bone spike hung there, close enough for Roy to feel the air it had cut, and for one sick second he understood that FDR had moved faster than his fear.
From the deeper shadows of the Convention, Lynder's voice cut through the silence. "Roy, I will warn you one last time."
"Please!" Vorn cried, clawed hands lifting from the asphalt in surrender. "Spare him! He does not have self-control! It is just his nature!"
At the snap of Lynder's fingers, magic condensed inside the child's skull and burst outward, ending him before Vorn's plea finished leaving his mouth.
Grief hit Kaelia and Vorn for less than a heartbeat before something older took over. Their pupils spread black across their eyes, their bodies wrenched forward, and the same mouths that had begged for mercy opened into a single shriek as they launched themselves at Roy.
Lynder's hands came up, and False Void magic bloomed inside Kaelia and Vorn before they reached Roy. Their chests collapsed inward, then burst apart, taking the remaining child with them in a spray of flesh and bone that misted across the pristine magical asphalt.
Among the remains of Kaelia and Vorn, a few metallic items and glowing crystals caught the light. Lutrian approached the blast marks carefully, studying the spaces where the children had died and finding nothing there at all.
"No items dropped from the young ones," Lutrian said. "This confirms the theory. Monsters born naturally within the dungeon do not have items assigned to them by the system."
The magic around Lynder's fingers faded, but his hands stayed raised between Roy and the blood on the road. Lutrian's observation barely reached him. "As I was saying," Lynder said, still facing Roy, "you can never trust a monster."
Roy kept staring at the blood where the family had been. The visas still glowed faintly in the air above it, four little permissions granted a few seconds too early, and for once Lynder's cruelty had nothing easy for him to push against.
"Docile is only a shape they can hold for a while," Lynder continued. "A clever one waits until you sleep. A goblin kills the second you give it permission."