Hestan, equally stunned, cursed, “What the hell is this goddamn thing?!”
Beside them, Cedric’s sense of foreboding intensified sharply.
Without another word, he spun around and bolted for the door.
At that exact moment, in the real-time satellite feed, the absurdly oversized sniper rifle began to shift—its massive muzzle slowly rotating, reorienting its aim.
Flander’s mind snapped into motion. He bellowed at the panicked researcher nearby:
“Quick, goddammit! Calculate the trajectory of that thing—now! Move!!”
But the chaos unfolding at Base B12 was far from over.
Within her Shadow Domain, Seraphine had tapped into the vast energy of the Sentience Realm, using it to manifest this towering monstrosity of a gun into the physical world. While its outward form vaguely resembled a Barrett—
In truth, both technically and conceptually, it bore far greater resemblance to the legendary Babylon Cannon—the kind of superweapon said to be capable of launching satellites via sheer bombardment force.
Of course, Seraphine hadn’t copied anything wholesale. Her design incorporated countless fragments of firearm and artillery knowledge, all fused and lightly refined with her own style.
Had she not been constrained by the innate limits of her Shadow Domain, Seraphine—with her subatomic-level telekinetic control—could have created an even more exaggerated weapon.
Even so, the projectile fired from this monstrous cannon would reach near-orbital velocity.
Specifically: 23.24 Mach.
Her chosen target?
The B12 base, located 158 kilometers away, nestled deep within the Loski Mountains.
“In Anthony’s memory, B12 was just a bare-bones military outpost. No strategic value. In that case—let’s blow it off the map and enjoy the sound.”
As she murmured those words, the colossal Barrett beneath her suddenly began to rumble.
Whoooosh——
The entire gun—massive as a mountain—suddenly cracked open, hundreds of holes erupting across its surface.
Each of these vents began to hum violently, sucking in surrounding air at an insane rate.
The noise was deafening—like a swarm of titanic beasts shrieking, as if trying to inhale the entire world into a vacuum.
The suction was so intense, the airflow so wild, that gales whipped across the barren wilderness in every direction.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh!
Boom boom boom!
Suddenly—
A lone bald eagle, gliding lazily through the sky, was caught off guard. It was yanked mid-flight by the howling currents and hurled directly toward the weapon’s massive, mountain-like form.
By some miracle, the bird wasn’t torn apart immediately. Instead, it tumbled helplessly toward the rim of the gigantic turbine—an essential part of the gun’s firing mechanism.
Through its panic-filled, grey-streaked eyes—
It saw an enormous, ink-black turbine roaring like a volcanic engine, whipping the air into a spiraling frenzy. The currents condensed and twisted with unrelenting fury, all funneled toward a single point—
The tail end of a colossal bullet, hundreds of meters wide.
There, an invisible but devastating force—Telekinetic Power—was compressing the incoming air with terrifying precision. The pressure was building. Steadily. Mercilessly.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh——
And then.
Before the eagle could even process what was happening, a searing blast of wind sliced through the air—
Tearing it into ragged chunks mid-flight. Its remains were swept straight into the turbine, devoured without ceremony.
Crack crack crack!!
The gigantic gun, standing alone in the barren wilderness, began to quake like an awakened god. The ground itself split open beneath it, tremors spiderwebbing out in all directions.
Each new fissure ripped outward—some shallow, some cavernous.
Whoooosh——
Another gust howled through, lifting rocks, dust, and debris into a violent storm that danced across the scarred terrain.
From a distance, the wilderness now looked like it had been clawed to ribbons by some great, invisible beast.
A vision of apocalyptic violence.
"Almost ready."
Seraphine slowly raised one hand.
Then, calmly, she extended her thumb, index, and middle finger—poised to snap.
A second later...
"Bang!"
The snap came.
And the shot was fired.
Boom!!!
The moment the colossal bullet exited the barrel—
The earth heaved violently.
Clouds split apart in the sky above.
The recoil force alone shattered the colossal gun into nothingness, erasing it from existence as it collapsed straight into the earth. The resulting impact crater spanned over ten kilometers wide and a hundred meters deep, pulverizing everything—rock layers, soil, debris—into fine powder and flying rubble.
The violent ground tremors extended all the way to Losngel City—the nearest urban center to ground zero.
For a moment, the entire city was gripped by a relentless, rolling quake.
Skyscrapers swayed and cracked. Bridges split apart like snapped bones.
Hundreds of millions screamed in terror.
“Why the hell is there suddenly an earthquake?!”
“What the holy fuck is going on?!”
“Dear Lord—have you unleashed the end times?!”
From a distance, the once-still wilderness now looked as if some titanic beast had risen from beneath and violently overturned the land itself.
Unspeakably tragic. Terrifyingly grand.
As for Seraphine—
She had already departed the scene effortlessly, vanishing into a Real Number Channel moments before the unleashed energy could reach her.
At that same moment, far away in the control room, Flander finally finished calculating the trajectory.
The coordinates pointed straight to B12 base.
“It’s over.”
His pupils dilated. His legs gave out. He crumpled to the floor.
That usual iron-hard, calculating expression was gone—replaced with total blankness and dread.
He couldn’t even begin to fathom the force behind that one shot.
Nor could he understand why Seraphine would fire something so devastating with such terrifying recklessness.
Next to him, Hestan stared at the monitor, frozen.
His body slackened, legs trembling violently. All color drained from his face.
His eyes bulged in disbelief.
Regret. Rage. Panic. Confusion.
A thousand thoughts swirled in chaos.
And Cedric—who had just rushed out and was now riding the elevator to ground level, trying to escape through the base’s exit—
Still didn’t know.
The strike had already launched.
Over 100 kilometers away…
BOOM BOOM BOOM — ROAR ROAR ROAR!!!
The projectile—massive, howling like a beast from the abyss—erupted from the barrel and sliced through the atmosphere layer by layer.
Trailing endless fire, hurricane-force shockwaves, and supersonic tremors behind it, it thundered toward its target.
In its wake, it carved out a monstrous vacuum tunnel several hundred meters wide—ripping a hole in the very air.
To describe it in simpler terms—
It was like a continuous, head-on Vacuum Imploder from Red Alert, writ real.
A rolling apocalypse.
A single object, hundreds of meters in diameter and potentially weighing hundreds of thousands—or even millions—of tons, flying at orbital velocity just kilometers above ground level…
Such a scene had never occurred in the entire history of Earth.
No one had even dared to imagine it.
And yet, here it was.
BOOM BOOM BOOM — ROAR ROAR ROAR!!!
Everything along the 160-kilometer direct path—
Earth. Forests. Clouds. People. Animals. Cars. Planes.
Even vast stretches of dense woodland, even towering skyscrapers planted deep in the soil—
All of it—
Was reduced in an instant to fine dust and debris.
Torn to atoms by the unrelenting sonic booms, swirling tornado-force winds, and the terrifying vacuum vortex unleashed by the black projectile barreling through the sky at tens of Mach.
The scale of destruction was unimaginable.
The atmospheric shockwave alone spread across nearly half the Beaconreach continent in moments.
Billions felt it.
Billions were thrown into panic.
And none of them had any idea what had just happened.
In just twenty seconds—
The monstrous projectile, carrying unstoppable kinetic fury, covered the full 158 kilometers—
From the barren plains beyond Losngel City—
Straight into the heart of Base B12.
“Almost there! Almost there!”
Cedric, panting heavily, burst out from the main gates of B12 base. He looked at the lush forest ahead and laughed breathlessly:
“The ground... is still safer...”
But in the very next moment, a primal sense of doom—like death itself—detonated in his mind.
His instincts screamed.
He looked up.
“What... is that?!”
The once-blue sky now blazed with blinding brilliance.
It looked like a sun—no, a second sun—descending upon the Earth.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
And then—
BOOM!!!
A blast of pure annihilation erupted deep within the Loski Mountain range.
In an instant, the entire world went white.
As if a thousand meteors had struck the planet all at once.
As if countless bolts of divine lightning had gone berserk.
Flames surged. Thunder rolled. Explosions rippled and echoed through the mountain range like the roar of some dying god.
The entire Loski range groaned, cracked, and shattered under the unimaginable force.
Vast layers of earth and rock were hurled skyward, swirling violently until sky and ground became one blurred mass.
B12 base—
Its personnel, soldiers, equipment, buildings, steel-reinforced doors, combat vehicles, tanks, helicopters, elevators—
Everything.
Vaporized.
Turned to dust in an instant.
Flander, Cedric, and Hestan never learned the true reason behind Seraphine’s assault—
That it was all simply...
To hear a satisfying boom.
BOOM! CRASH! ROAR! BOOM BOOM!!
The shockwaves ripped back and forth through the Loski mountains.
Monstrous currents of air struggled to escape the blast’s epicenter—only to be overtaken by even more violent surges chasing after them.
Forests were incinerated in vast waves.
Mountains buckled. Earth heaved.
Entire strata of rock rose and collapsed like ocean swells, forming towering ripples of destruction hundreds of meters tall, flattening everything within a radius of dozens—then hundreds—of kilometers.
The very atmosphere was shoved aside.
A supermassive dust storm, thick enough to blot out the sun, blanketed the region.
It surged outward, as though trying to swallow the entire world—sky, land, and everything in between—into absolute nothingness.
For one staggering moment, they devoured everything within hundreds of miles.
Then, at last...
Silence.
The dust began to settle.
The light faded.
And the horror was revealed.
Where B12 once stood, now only a vast, bottomless crater remained—spanning several kilometers across.
Its base had melted into a pool of glass-like crystal.
The surrounding land, for tens of kilometers in every direction—ground, forests, mountains, rivers—simply... no longer existed.
The bedrock itself had been torn open, leaving jagged wounds across the terrain.
Further out, across hundreds of kilometers, chaos reigned.
The destructive force of this one shot—
Had surpassed the infamous Stormlight Devastator by hundreds of times.
And the world noticed.
Soon after—
-
Antarctica Sub-sonic Monitoring Station
-
Eliondra Sub-sonic Monitoring Station
-
Atlantic Sub-sonic Monitoring Station
-
Pacific Sub-sonic Monitoring Station
-
Arctic Ocean Vibration Monitoring Station
-
Flame Continent Vibration Monitoring Station
-
Emberlight South Sea Hydro-acoustic Monitoring Station
From every corner of the globe, dozens of seismic, infrasound, and hydro-acoustic monitoring stations simultaneously picked up the blast echoing from the Loski Mountain range in Beaconreach.
The entire world was stunned.
Since Beaconreach's founding centuries ago—through more than 60 generations of leadership—no national leader had ever endured anything like the 【Loski Mountain Range Catastrophe】.
And now, Beaconreach’s current head of state, Tom Wilson, would go down in history—
As the one who did.
Instantly, Beaconreach society erupted with fury.
“Why didn’t the national radar early-warning system react?!”
“Where was the military’s missile defense response?!”
“What the hell happened to the annual trillion-dollar defense budget?!”
“Has anyone even investigated last year’s two trillion in military deficit?!”
The pressure on Leader Tom mounted from every direction.
And yet—
He remained unshaken.
Appearing live on social media, he unleashed a tirade with all the force of a political hurricane:
“Fake news!”
“I know the tricks these low-level media parasites use to attract attention with lies. Believe me—I know better than anyone.
They don’t report real news—they wag their tails like poodles, spitting out garbage by the minute.
They either don’t know—or pretend not to know—that the most important story on Earth is me, Tom Wilson!”
“Your great leader. So handsome. So brilliant.
A once-in-a-generation genius!
While guiding the most powerful economic boom in Earth’s history, I also personally led our heroic boys in uniform to destroy 100% of Beaconreach’s enemies!
Yes—100%!
And what do the media do? Nothing!
They won’t report it.
But they will lose so much credibility for ignoring it!”
Unsurprisingly—
His grandstanding did little to calm the storm.
Or perhaps… the ripples it stirred simply weren’t large enough to matter.
The real reason? His string of rambling nonsense and erratic behavior had long reached such absurd extremes that no one took him seriously anymore.
Meanwhile, across Beaconreach, news outlets went into a frenzy, sensationalizing the Loski Mountain Range explosion.
CNN: 《BEACONREACH APOCALYPSE!!!》
CAS: 《SHOCKING! BEACONREACH SUFFERS VILE ATTACK!!》
Daily Oil News: 《Loski Mountain Explosion! Secret Military Test?! PHOTOS INCLUDED!》
New Fragrance Times: 《Utterly Tragic—This Century’s Greatest Global Catastrophe!!》
Lord’s Oracle News: 《Morality Collapses! A Heaven-Sent Plague Incited by Mankind’s Fall!》
Fox News: 《EMBERLIGHT—A GLOBAL THREAT!!》
Urgent Dispatch from Reuters:
"Today, a location within the Loski Mountain Range—coordinates XX° longitude, XX° latitude—was reportedly struck by a nuclear device of immense but undetermined yield. Simultaneously, the suspected launch site was identified as a massive gun-shaped structure located at XX° longitude, XX° latitude in the suburbs of Losngel City. Grand Leader Tom Wilson, alongside top Gray Palace officials, is currently stationed at the emergency response command center. The casualty count is expected to be massive, though exact figures are still unconfirmed. All urban structures—including iconic landmarks—have been obliterated. Economic losses are estimated to be incalculable. Government sources report that emergency response teams have been deployed for rescue and recovery."
Despite the chaos, major Beaconreach news channels remained tactful, refraining from directly criticizing Leader Tom or any senior officials within the Gray Palace.
That, after all, was the unspoken rule.
Satire was allowed. Mockery? Fine. But no matter how dire the situation, the blame must never reach the top.
Leader Tom could be misguided. He could be misled. But he could never be inherently bad.
On the contrary, he must remain the embodiment of virtue and good intent.
A sacred principle.
But the people of Beaconreach weren’t bound by such courtesy.
At this moment, they raged like bereaved parents—furious, desperate, nearly hysterical.
On various online platforms:
“How fucking dare you?!!”
“FUCK FUCK FUCK! Useless bastard does nothing but golf!”
“Thanks for the hellhole, jackass. I’m voting for his opponent next term!”
“What the hell do you mean ‘wait’? Throw that fossil out NOW!”
“That’s no natural disaster. That’s a nuclear fucking strike! That worthless, senile old cockroach keeps spinning lies to screw over us descendants of the Flame Continent!”
“He deserves the death penalty!!”
“Chill, man—he’s just negligent. Not exactly an execution case.”
“Bro. This is the 21st century. Don’t throw around death sentences like it’s medieval times.”
“Fuck off! This is exactly why I hate you abolitionist cowards!”
And this was just a small slice of the chaos online.
The true anger of the Beaconreach populace was better reflected in something else entirely—
Leader Tom’s approval rating.
It was in freefall. Inches away from hitting zero.
So why didn’t it hit zero?
Simple: this was Beaconreach—a country of over two hundred religious sects, more than two million local church groups, and a population that’s half-devout, half-maniacally libertine.
In a land like this, no matter what anyone does—even if it’s complete lunacy—there will always be supporters.
Why?
Who knows?
Flat-earthers exist. Is anything really impossible anymore?
At the same time—
Earth’s other nations, leveraging countless intelligence networks, had already gathered concrete intel.
They possessed theoretical power estimates of the massive gun that appeared outside Losngel City, analyzed possible points of origin, and calculated its potential threat profile.
But for various confidential and strategic reasons, these governments chose to release only the most diplomatic of public statements.
In essence:
“We respect Beaconreach’s sovereignty and internal affairs.
However, we strongly condemn the (yet unidentified) dangerous organization responsible for this attack.
Relevant sanctions are under discussion.
We will closely observe Beaconreach’s handling of the incident.”
Additionally, they expressed their condolences for the victims, and under humanitarian principles, began urgently assembling relief supplies—already en route to Beaconreach via multiple channels.
In other words:
“We’re watching.
Please keep performing.
We’ll try not to clap.”
That night.
After a full day at the relief command center, Leader Tom boarded his private helicopter and returned to the Gray Palace.
Beaconreach, Capital City.
"Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump ~~~"
Bathed in silver moonlight, the helicopter bearing the national flag of Beaconreach slowly descended onto the helipad.
By now, hours had passed since the Loski blast.
Click —
The boarding ramp lowered.
A tall, broad-shouldered, elderly man with golden-blond hair emerged into the flashing storm of media cameras.
Tom Wilson.
His thick fringe flapped violently in the rotor winds as he strode to the microphone, lips pressed into a solemn line.
He stood beneath the floodlights, facing a swarm of reporters.
Preparing to speak.
"Click ~"
"Click ~"
"Click ~"
Shutters clicked in rapid succession as the press surged forward, arms raised, questions flying.
“Mr. Leader!”
“Mr. Leader, what are your thoughts on this morning’s explosion in the Loski Mountain Range?”
“Do you believe this was a terrorist act, Mr. Leader?”
“Sir, such a catastrophic event happened under your administration—how do you respond?”
Tap tap ~
Tom rapped the microphone twice, then leaned forward to speak:
“Thank you. I have to say—this is a very important statement.
Just as you all mentioned, Beaconreach has been subjected to a terrorist attack.
A vile, malicious attack.
We’ve faced many challenges in recent times—but this one… this one is the worst!
As the Grand Leader of Beaconreach, I won’t pass the buck. I won’t dodge responsibility. It is my solemn duty to protect the lives and property of our citizens.
That is my sacred, glorious mission.
But now, our nation’s safety is under severe, coordinated threat!”
He paused dramatically, scanning the crowd. Then, he pointed to the blonde female reporter with the deepest V-neck and the most prominent... presence—her hand raised highest among the crowd.
Her eyes sparkled as she rose to her feet and asked eagerly:
“Mr. Leader! Do you know who is behind this brutal attack? The public deserves to know who is threatening their safety!”
Tom’s brows furrowed slightly. He gave a faint smile and leaned closer to the mic.
“All of this is very strange. I must emphasize—this is bad. Very bad. Extremely bad.
It’s the kind of unprecedented incident that most world leaders couldn’t even imagine happening—let alone handle.
But I’m different.
From the very first day I took office, I was prepared to face the impossible.
And let’s be honest—everyone knows I’m a genius. That’s just a fact.
Over the years, my unparalleled efforts to safeguard the entire world… are plain for all to see.
That’s why they fear me.
Because I am their natural enemy.
Only I—only I—can guarantee the safety of the Beaconreach people!”
...
Several reporters sighed and exchanged glances. They had seen this before: the Leader slipping into another grand monologue of self-worship.
Trying to seize the moment, the blonde reporter quickly followed up:
“Mr. Leader! Has the Pentagon acquired any concrete intelligence about the perpetrators?”
“...”
Tom’s eyes narrowed. Clearly annoyed at being interrupted, he snapped:
“That’s classified. Can’t talk about it. Okay?!”
“But… does that mean the government still doesn’t kn—”
Tom waved her off, impatiently:
“Alright, alright. Next question!”
Thirty minutes later.
The press conference ended.
Bang!
Tom shoved open his office door, stomping inside. His bulky frame collapsed into the oversized leather chair behind his desk.
Facing him stood a tall, silver-haired man with a stern expression.
Tom scowled.
“Reelton, what the hell’s going on with that giant black cannon that hit the Loski range? What do Intel and the Pentagon say?”
“Uh… we’ve actually gathered most of the relevant intel, but…”
Reelton—Director of National Intelligence—hesitated, then said carefully:
“Mr. Leader… are you familiar with superpower users?”
“Superpower users…”
Tom’s face darkened. His voice turned cold:
“I’ve known about that group since long before I took office. Dangerous bastards, the lot of them. You’re saying those freaks did this?”
Reelton nodded slowly.
“Yes, sir. The attack… was carried out by the very ‘freaks’ you’re referring to.”
“What the?!”
Tom snapped upright, his expression twisting.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Reelton? You’re telling me those mutated lunatics somehow produced an attack exceeding a billion tons of TNT in yield?”
“Even Emberlight’s so-called humanoid nuke can’t do that. And didn’t your own analysts confirm that was just a bluff—a strategic deterrent?”
“That’s actually correct,” a voice said coolly.
Suddenly, a tall man in a sleek black suit appeared inside the office without warning.
He bowed slightly to Tom and offered a serene smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Leader.”
Without waiting for permission, he strolled over and sank casually onto the office couch.
“Uh…”
Tom froze.
He stared at the stranger.
At a glance, the man’s face looked both young and ancient—vibrant yet timeworn. His entire presence radiated an aura that was strange, haunting, unforgettable... and somehow distant, as though glimpsed through layers of fog.
“Monroe Holmes!”
Tom’s expression shifted subtly—then he quickly plastered on a warm, diplomatic smile. He stood up.
“Mr. Monroe! It’s been far too long!”
Without a word, Reelton, still standing nearby, turned and quietly exited the office.
“Haha ha ~”
Monroe chuckled softly.
“Like you, Mr. Leader, my time is buried under an avalanche of duties. If I don’t attend to things immediately, the consequences spiral out of control. So yes, I’ve been busy—endlessly so. I hope you’ll forgive the delay.”
Tom waved a hand, smiling through his teeth.
“Ah, my dear Mr. Monroe—you really must learn to enjoy life a little. Now then... this visit of yours—what brings you here?”
Monroe’s smile did not fade. His voice, calm and smooth, cut straight through the air.
“Seraphine. She’s the one who destroyed the Loski Mountain Range.”
“What?!!”
Tom’s eyes flew wide.
“She—Seraphine—she did that? You’re saying she caused a nuclear-scale explosion with her bare hands?! No, no... this wasn’t just nuclear—it was far beyond that! And—didn’t our intelligence agency confirm—?”
“Ah ~”
Monroe raised a hand gently, smile still serene.
“Mortals are often blinded by their own illusions.”
With that, he extended a finger and pointed—without touching—toward Tom’s forehead.
BOOM!
In that instant, a surge of images, sound, and compressed intelligence data flooded Tom’s consciousness.
He saw everything—multi-angle footage of Seraphine building, activating, and firing the colossal weapon. Footage of her battling Vuron—battles on the scale of cities, of nations being erased. The final detonation of the Stormlight Devastator, a blast rivaling the Tsar Bomba in destructive force.
He saw classified analytical data—numbers, extrapolations, power estimates.
Seraphine
Strength (Clone): 30,000 ~ 50,000 tons
Speed (Clone): Up to Mach 28
Strength (True Body): 90,000 ~ 1,000,000 tons (Estimated)
Speed (True Body): Unknown; current estimates inconclusive. Based on data from 127 global superpower users with both True Body / Clone configurations, the combat power multiplier ranges from 3x to 20x.
Special Abilities
Combat Capability: Global Rank #1. Classified: Ultimate Tier.
Life Energy Field: Spatial width unknown. Intensity unknown.
Psychokinesis: Estimated at 10,000-ton force level. Range estimated between 1–10 km. Accuracy unknown.
Mind Possession: Can override and control other human beings through spiritual force. Range likely global.
Energy Clones: Estimated 10+ units. Divided into combat and utility types.
Area-of-Effect Energy Assault: Equivalent to a 50 megaton nuclear detonation. Usage frequency: unknown; likely limited.
Superpower Mutagenesis: Can remotely enhance parasitized targets, alter ability types, and interfere with environment. Duration: unknown.
“Hiss——”
Tom sucked in a sharp breath.
His face had gone pale. He struggled to keep composure, but the fear was undeniable.
“This... this power is insane! It's beyond anything we’ve ever seen! Mr. Monroe, I know you're... exceptional. The Shadow Tribunal has stood at your side for centuries. Whether it’s policy, finance, or... other areas... you’ve always kept Beaconreach’s interests close. I—”
Monroe raised a hand.
“Mr. Leader, rest assured.”
His voice remained calm.
“We share in both glory and ruin. I will not let the threat of Seraphine go unanswered. But you must understand... even with her power on display—she is not invincible.”
He tapped the armrest of the sofa lightly, fingertips drumming like clockwork.
“However... you need to be mentally prepared.”
Tom’s face tightened.
“Mr. Monroe... what exactly do you mean by ‘mentally prepared’?”
Monroe looked him in the eye.
“I mean that to destroy her—truly destroy her—the price may be devastating. That price could very well be… the end of modern civilization.
We must prepare for the possibility that Earth's entire civilization enters a new Dark Age.”
Tom stiffened.
“Will it truly be that serious?!”
Monroe nodded.
“Yes. Current strategic assessments show that only sustained, overwhelming nuclear-level bombardment may be capable of killing her.
Repeatedly.”
“Hiss——”
Tom reeled.
“But... that would destroy everything! The world would be annihilated! Billions would die!”
Monroe chuckled—low, quiet, and almost... amused.
Then, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“People dying?”
He gave Tom a peculiar look, his voice silk-smooth:
“You know... your grandfather used to cut my hair. Honestly? Not bad with the scissors.”
“What?”
Tom's face twitched. A flicker of fury passed through him—but he swallowed it.
“That’s not funny, Mr. Monroe.”
Monroe smiled faintly.
“Centuries ago, when the Mayflower first landed on this continent... I was there. So was everyone else on board. All of us—abandoned by Eliondra.
We had nothing. No power. No land. Just grit.
But over time—through struggle and absolute will—we tore down every obstacle.
Savage native tribes? Crushed. Arrogant Eliondran nobles? Outmaneuvered. Emberlight colonial fleets? We buried them on the beaches.
And so, Mr. Leader, I say this to you—”
He slowly stood, looking down at Tom with measured coldness.
“In this world, so-called benevolence and compassion... only exist as luxuries. Luxuries one can afford after securing survival.
When an existential threat arrives—when survival is on the line—then death... becomes a number.
And if more people must die to preserve order?
So be it.”