[Oliver’s PoV]
“What’s left to do, then?” Alan’s voice was steady, but eager. “What do we need to finish before we’re ready?”
Oliver hesitated. He didn’t correct him. He didn’t tell him the truth. That there was no we in this plan. The path he’d chosen was one he intended to walk alone. There was no reason to drag them into the fire he had already decided to burn in.
But now wasn’t the time to argue.
He drew in a slow breath. Oliver was trying to figure out how much of his plan he could divulge to third parties, like Mordred or Khan.
“To end the Emperor and the war,” Oliver said, his voice low but firm, “I’ll have to kill the Sovereign of Humanity as well.”
The words dropped like a stone into still water, rippling through the silence.
Even Katherine’s composure faltered for a moment. Alan’s eyes widened, and Mordred’s usual smirk vanished.
Oliver continued, his tone calm, almost detached. “That’s the hardest part. If a False Sovereign was this difficult to kill, then facing the real one will be far worse. But I’ve spent the last five years preparing for this moment.”
He could feel their eyes on him, the disbelief, the fear. Katherine and Mordred came to understand the true extent of the Sovereign’s power during the Senate meeting. Alan may already have heard what happened. Each of them had a sense of how difficult it would be. It would be close to a suicide mission.
Katherine stepped forward. “And what’s missing for it to happen?”
“A weapon,” Oliver said. “Something strong enough to kill a Sovereign.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The idea itself was madness. The Sovereigns weren’t just rulers. They were forces of nature, living embodiments of Energy and creation. The notion of killing one was like trying to extinguish a star with bare hands.
Alan was the first to break the silence. His eyes flickered with realization as the pieces fell into place.
“That’s why you were after the Bronze Crystal,” he said quietly, the words more statement than question.
“Yes,” Oliver said. “The Bronze Crystal was one of the few we had leads on. Also, it had a shard large enough and stable enough to handle what I needed. But it’s not enough.”
He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant, as if he could already see the path ahead.
“I’ll need more.”
Katherine frowned, crossing her arms. “More? How much more? One? Two? Ten?”
Oliver shook his head. “Two. Maybe three. I’m not sure yet.” He paused. “It’s hard enough to find one of them intact, let alone two or three.”
Alan rubbed his chin, nodding slowly. “That’s… going to be a problem.”
Across the room, Khan leaned against a broken pillar. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a sharp edge when he finally spoke.
“You’re insane,” he said flatly. “You should be satisfied with overthrowing the Emperor. Take the throne, rebuild what’s left. Leave the Sovereigns to their own damnation.”
Oliver turned his head toward him, his eyes calm but hard.
“That won’t work.”
Khan’s brow furrowed. “And why not?”
“Because the Sovereign isn’t just watching anymore,” he said quietly. “He’s here. In the physical realm. He’s forcing the fight against the Orks himself.”
--
[1st Position: Demeter - 94720]
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[2nd Position: Arcantus - 79000]
[3rd Position: Meridius - 73520]
[4th Position: Selene - 72965]
[5th Position: Nemo - 67141]
[6th Position: Echo - 65170]
[7th Position: Sforza - 60879]
[8th Position: Lot - 53578]
[9th Position: York - 46351]
[10th Position: Hyperion - 46069]
[11th Position: Dardanus - 24316]
[12th Position: Aquarius - 19727]
[13th Position: Arctos - 13937]
--
Oliver opened the "leaderboard" for the Sovereign's Game. The last line blinked red. It wasn’t just a warning. It was a sentence.
Each one was a mark in a game the Sovereigns had designed to keep the Great Houses in check.
“At the end of this year,” Oliver said, “whoever isn’t among the top twelve will be punished. They’ll lose one of their cities.”
“But who’s to say it ends there?” Oliver continued, his tone colder now. “Who’s to say next year it won’t be four Great Houses? Or more?”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Alan shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking between Oliver and the hologram. Katherine’s hands were clasped tightly behind her back. Even Mordred, who usually carried himself with detached amusement, stood motionless, his golden eyes dimmed in thought.
Oliver exhaled slowly.
“No. Ending the Emperor isn’t enough.” He gestured toward the holographic display. “Even changing your blood, even changing your species, won’t save you. You’ll still be bound to the Sovereigns. Leaderboard is proof of that.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with truth.
The Tower chamber fell silent again. Each of them seemed lost in their own thoughts, weighed down by what he’d said.
Yet once more, Khan broke through the quiet. “You’re all insane.”
“You’re going to die, all of you,” he said, his voice echoing slightly in the hollow space. “And even if you somehow succeed, it won’t matter. It won’t change anything.”
Oliver turned his head toward him, studying the mercenary in silence.
Khan’s words weren’t dismissive; they were weary. Experienced. The kind of certainty that came from a man who had seen too much.
'What does he know that we don’t?' Oliver thought. 'How does a mercenary speak like a man who’s faced Sovereigns before?'
Khan pushed off the pillar and took a step forward.
“Even if you break free of the Grand Game,” he said, his voice low but hard, “you think you’ll find peace? You think the other races will just let you walk away? That the Orks will suddenly turn their blades on someone else?”
Alan frowned, his arms crossed. Katherine’s brow furrowed, her patience thinning. Mordred’s expression darkened, though his silence spoke volumes.
Oliver tilted his head slightly, intrigued despite himself.
“Interesting,” he said quietly. “Then tell me, what do you think will happen?”
“At best,” Khan said, his tone sharp and dripping with contempt, “you’ll get rid of one enemy and gain a dozen more in return. Enemies who don’t follow your rules. Who don't care about alliances? Who don't want peace?”
Oliver’s gaze flicked toward Mordred, catching a slight movement from the corner of his eye. But he didn’t comment. Not yet.
He turned his attention back to Khan. “I see. But before we get to that, how do you know about other races?” he asked slowly. “In theory, only a handful of Great House leaders even know they exist.”
The moment the question left his lips, the room changed.
The air grew colder. The light dimmed.
From beneath their feet, shadows began to move.
They slithered across the cracked floor like liquid night, stretching and twisting into long, serpentine tendrils.
Mordred’s golden eyes glinted in the half-light. Even with one arm gone, his Boon remained terrifyingly powerful.
The tendrils surged forward.
Khan barely had time to react.
The mercenary’s instincts kicked in, his body tensing as his hands reached for a Laser Pistol on his hip, but there was none. The first shadow had already reached and removed his weapon.
He shifted his stance, ready to flee. But fatigue betrayed him. The battle had drained him, and the shadows were faster.
They struck like whips, wrapping around his limbs, his torso, his throat.
In seconds, Khan was pinned, suspended in the air by the darkness. The tendrils coiled tighter, anchoring him in place.
For a few fleeting seconds, he struggled. He pulled his arms and legs, but it was useless.
Mordred rose from where he had been sitting, using his one remaining arm to push himself to his feet. His movements were slow, but the anger in his expression was unmistakable.
“After all this talk about Sovereigns, Emperors, and the end of the world,” Mordred said, his voice low and dangerous, “my curiosity’s turned to something else.”
He stepped closer, the shadows shifted, tightening around Khan as if responding to his master’s intent.
“I want to know who the bastard is that had the guts to steal my weapons.”
Oliver stayed silent, watching.
Katherine took a step forward but stopped when Oliver raised a hand.
Mordred’s anger wasn’t just about the weapons. It was about control. About power. About being made to look weak.
“How about we see the face behind the mask?” Mordred said, his voice like a growl.
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