NOVEL NEXT EPISODE 240: THE FUTURE STATE 1
EPISODE 240: THE FUTURE STATE 1
— GREAT EDRYAN, YEAR 7294. SEASON: CENTRAL.
Lawruthian gazed around, papers still falling to the ground. His steps were slow, as his eyes met nearly every single person at the table. His seat was directly before the door, a straight line to it. Amaya stood behind, seemingly readying the seat for him.
She had grown, in character and body. Lawruthian could see it in her eyes, stance, and demeanor. She smiled brightly, a smile that showcased relief and excitement. She had worked hard, and now her job was done and rightfully passed back to its owner.
He took his seat, the last of the papers falling to the ground. Every eye in the room locked onto him, a thing he'd long grown used to and even felt comfortable in.
He turned his head slightly left, then right, gazing once again at the figures present. Thirteen figures came, thirteen states out of fifty-seven, including the magi. That was a good fourth—a good fourth of the world hadn't underestimated his magi and chose to attend his event.
Better than none.
"I am Lawruthian Imperius Koltius Edryani, Chosen of Madris, Forefather of Edryani Innovation, Final Dragon, and End of Adventure."
Although he held many more titles, he selected only his most prominent, as only they would matter. His last two titles made several figures flinch, and one, a felion, openly glared at him with hostility.
Interesting. That was where he locked gazes with the hooded figure. He didn't know who she was, wasn't even certain if she was a she, but strongly felt a sense of familiarity with her.
One of them had to die.
It was written, and thus, it shall be done.
"Today," Lawruthian paused, glancing at the dark sky. "Tonight," he corrected. "I've gathered you here for a simple discussion and hopefully a resolution as future leaders of our respective nations."
His voice was smooth, relaxed, as if in a play, and he was the lead actor. He glanced around briefly, putting names and faces together. He'd been updated on every attendee at SAFE and felt quite eager to see who matched what.
Ninjaro Ibadan — A member of the Asigbonle race, giants, but dwarven ones. He stood tall, matching Lawruthian's height, and his great beard fell just past his shoulders with several jeweled decorations within. Lawruthian noted the braided abacus that the Asigbonle fingered and the shiftiness of his eyes. The Asigbonle appeared outwardly calm, but his fingers hadn't stopped causally stroking his abacus. Perhaps he was calculating something, but the Asigbonle was so used to the movement he hadn't paused to consider when and where it was appropriate.
Allura Grasci Az'Dawn — Same face, but her temperament seemed calmer. What Lawruthian was truly interested in was her sister Fatima. The older woman stared at him lasciviously, like he was a prize object in her eyes.
Interesting, Lawruthian found it interesting, but what primarily drew his attention was two figures, both women, and both held a strong desire to kill, him… specifically speaking—doing little to hide it.
Ìmólè Jhan — A representative from the largest human nation and the one that held claims to be the original descendants of the first humans. They also played host to another Chosen. Lawruthian wondered if they were descendants of the first human created by Realm Lord Elrunian or something else. No matter, Ìmólè's strong desire to kill wasn't kept hidden in her eyes, or if she attempted to do so, it was obvious to Lawruthian.
Zeor, Olupani, but best known as [She Who Kills] was an [Adventurer]—either she held the title or a related class under its archetype. Lawruthian knew instinctively, almost as if it were a sixth sense. This woman's desire to kill him was the strongest here. Her cat ears were flared back, whiskers tense, and her eyes were wide, unblinking as if she sought the perfect opportunity to strike.
"I hope that we may establish Rules and Regulations. Rules of Combat and Regulations of People," Lawruthian stated. "I do not wish to see this world fall into endless bloodshed and the mistakes of our ancestors repeated."
"The only mistake still present from that time is the magi," a voice uttered.
Immediately, the room grew tense, more so than it already was.
Lawruthian turned his head, staring at the figure who spoke.
"Your name is Erin, yes."
It wasn't a question posed by the Chosen of Madris, but a confirmation.
This was one of the figures Lawruthian's gaze lingered on the least. His strength was… mediocre to his senses at best. What could classify him as dangerous was the combined strength of him and his brothers.
"Blue Blade, Erin, the one who will slay you."
"Oh."
Lawruthian chuckled, standing. His response wasn't surprised, it wasn't furious. It simply was unworried, unrestrained, as if no consequences could affect him. It held a freeing sense about it, subtle but recognizable to those who knew him.
"Then let's put that to the test. You and your brothers all together."
Lawruthian put a hand on his neck, adjusting it. He hadn't finished assigning the rest of his levels, attributes, or upgraded his class to the next level, but he felt it was unnecessary against rabble.
He stood, smiling provocatively at Erin and his three brothers, and gestured with a thumb to the outside. Then disappeared, simply teleporting outside the hall into the sky above. Casually, he began to stroll in the air toward the training grounds.
A vein of irritation bulged on Erin's forehead, his blue skin turning shades darker. He'd never in his life been provoked in such a fashion, and the sentiment of his siblings seemed to be the same. Their auras flared, Erin's blue like his blade. Kan, the oldest of the twins, was red. Meta and Merin, the younger twins, were black and green, respectively.
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The four stood and shot off like arrows toward the Chosen of Madris. Since he offered the challenge himself and even acted on it, none could be upset with their next actions.
Erin was the first to arrive, his blue blade already in his hands. His physical body was immense, and the air crackled from his movements. He scoffed as the weapon inched closer to the Chosen's back, while his brothers closed in carefully from other directions, doing their best to surround Lawruthian in a squarish formation.
Lawruthian turned, the large blade of Erin missing him by centimeters. He prepared to strike the Machan but was caught by surprise by the reach of his weapon. The blue-skinned man wielded the blade with both right hands. Its length was incredible, standing taller than him as it appeared to be more of a spear than a sword. He'd taken their size into account, but the Machans were almost giants compared to any normal human. The heights of Erin and his brothers neared 250 centimeters but grew astonishingly by nearly 50 more, likely skills boosting their might.
Lawruthian's eyebrows raised in surprise, not at his reflection that smiled back from the blades' sheen, but the coldness it radiated to his senses. Magibane, as its name suggested, was a stone that worked as an excellent anti-mage weapon. Its main property was its ability to absorb magic, regardless of whether the spell was fullyo cast or not. Unfortunately for those who wielded it, and fortunately for those against it, its quantity was limited, and it took hours, if not days, to disperse the magic absorbed. Once its limit was reached, the weapon would explode and release all the previously absorbed magic.
Immediately, Lawruthian flicked his wrist, parrying a second attack with [Legacy] as [Red Blade] Kan struck. The damage dispersed, striking the ground below and opening a large, slash-shaped crater.
Lawruthian mused, he couldn't teleport, nor cast spells. With four magibane weapons in the hands of the Machan, Lawruthian doubted he could overload them in an appropriate amount of time. Then, the only thing reliable was his skill set.
A third blow came, this time from above, ready to squash the Chosen who seemed trapped between the attacks of his brothers. This blade was black, owned by Meta, and was the thinnest of the four brothers. Its shape was like that of a needle and seemed to be built specifically for this type of attack. Below, Merin waited with his weapon at the ready should Lawruthian choose to escape downward.
The final Machan was the guarantor that, should all other strikes fail, his wouldn't. Lawruthian held no choice but to dodge downward toward the waiting Machan, should he wish not to be pierced by the weapon of Meta. He grinned, enjoying himself, and punched upwards—one hundred and exactly ten attribute points were consumed, boosting his nearly 500 attacks by over a thousand percent.
The sky clapped, compressed air forcing itself upward in a devastating blow. The weapons of Kan and Erin were flung away from the blow as the attack clawed its way toward Meta. His black needle-like blade crumbled from the impact, and a much larger Machan appeared before him, three arms folded while his free one simply punched back.
His punch shattered the blow and continued downward; the surrounding space cracked and rippled, showing glimpses of a black void-like realm.
The Queen appeared next to Lawruthian, her expression cold, and she pointed upward, a pink light penetrating the blow and dispersing it.
Several more figures appeared, all magi, surrounding the Machan from all sides.
The Machan Prestige carefully looked around, grunted, before speaking for the first time since his arrival in the country. His voice was deep, but held a sharp edge to it like treacherous mountain wind.
"Hmph, a killing blow in a spar among juniors? A little punishment is warranted."
"That is not your responsibility to give. Your juniors should refrain from their actions—their conjoined attack was nothing short of a killing blow."
The Machan grunted, cuffed Meta on the ear, causing a groan of pain to emerge from the brother before looking back at the Queen with interest.
Titiana laughed, her hand shot out and ruffled her son's hair, but her indifferent eyes never left the Prestige's.
The Machan grunted, waved his hand at the other three, and moved to return to the hall.
No more than five minutes had passed since the entire confrontation. Lawruthian smiled at his mother, casually fixed his hair, and teleported.
His reappearance was directly in his seat as if the moment prior hadn't occurred. His eyes remained expressionless, indifferent, as he gazed around.
His actions served one purpose—to send a message. The magi would not and could not be bullied in their territory. He'd heard about the Machans' provocation over the last few days. Lawruthian understood their tactic was probing—their goal to understand the strength of the magi, but more importantly, him .
Lawruthian had to be careful with what he showed. He'd already given numerous revelations beforehand when emerging from G.E.N.E.S.I.S. His deep connection with the divinity of the Goddess and his control over the magi was now known to the world. Yet, they lacked a true measurement of his strength. In this, the Machan would continue to insult, degrade, and demean him and Edryan until a reaction occurred.
Lawruthian's plan was simple—overwhelm and shut down. A sacrifice of 110 attribute points was little compared to a future of hidden cards.
Likely, the Machan were sent or employed by the others to provoke and draw out a battle between them and him, forcing him to use as many skills and abilities as possible.
Lawruthian sacrificed a show of tremendous and instantaneous strength to keep hidden all his other cards. They could calculate and plan against this, but his other abilities remained unknown. Even to this day, he hadn't much displayed skills to the outside.
He gazed around at the thirteen representatives; barely a few moments had passed since his return, and theirs as they took their seats.
He spoke, each word deliberate. Each word was carefully planned as the (King's Indifference) was activated.
"I wish to cause as little harm to your people as I destroy your armies and seize your nations."
"Our Gods fight, tasking us as their soldiers on the Mortal Plane. Yet just as they play a game with Rules and Regulations, we, their most devout, must follow in example as not to tarnish the Faith instilled in us. My goal is simple: Rules, such that extreme weapons—those of divine nature and those of mortal means are not willfully tossed back and forth in a joust that will bring nothing but destruction to our lands and further weaken the Mortal Plane."
Lawruthian paused, indifferent eyes glancing around. "Such weapons, if used, should be on battlegrounds at minimum a hundred kilometers away from cities—giving a chance, if any, for the mortals of such regions to escape."
Lawruthian waved his hand.
"And, Regulations, such that civilians of conquered cities will not be put to unjust deaths or tortures—captured soldiers shall not be put under extreme tortures such that their souls do not carry the strength to enter their God's Queendoms."
Lawruthian glanced around. He noted the expressions of every participant. Ninjaro seemed thoughtful, a hand on his beard, lightly fingering his abacus. Allura calmly sat, her attention on him and the other participants of SAFE. Her sister, Fatima, was doing much of the same, except her eyes mainly remained on him.
He glanced past the felion, to the figure that sat with a hood on and much of their features covered. Zeor interrupted his gaze, positioning her body almost protectively in front.
Interesting. Lawruthian noted this behavior immediately. Who and what would make the Daughter of Zion, a princess in her own right, stand protectively before someone?
His gaze lingered, but only for a moment, as a figure spoke.
"The idea is practical, but the one who proposed it is not. How can the words of the magi be trusted—how can the offspring of Carno Edryani — Eradication, not bring ruin?"