Let’s rewind time to before things went to hell.

Inside the pyramid that was Danghai’s Conference Center, Orwell sat bored out of his mind.

It opened with Dowager Consort Ruho, the sitting regent of Frisnia, greeting the dignitaries and representatives. Several familiar faces surrounded the conference table with Ruho being the mediator.

Orwell recognized the Holy Maiden Thalia Holyworth. It appeared the same old hate-boner for heretics was as ingrained in the Holy Grace Church’s faction as always. Orwell knew she would turn hostile the moment his alliance with the Balorian went public.

The old-money of Aurorin’s nobility — Agnus Aurorin — was also presented. Orwell had an inkling the overweight elderly man who was an old hand in the slave trade was here to keep the status quo and net-positive cash flow.

There was Shyme’s father, Xerxes Enma. Orwell was semi-amused. He nearly killed Shyme twice, and he doubted Xerxes had a positive opinion of him. He heard Aquila Enma was also here, but wisely chose to patrol the premise than suffer the meeting from hell. Rubric the Red Blade from the Blood Iron Army was glaring at him. It didn’t take a genius to realize those two were a united front.

Orwell glinted at Ophelia Runesea. He didn’t know what to take about Ophelia or her nation in general. Balperia was a rival to the Grand Empire, so maybe they might get along. Ophelia was considered the forefront researcher in array and the head of Balperia’s magical research. Her Grand Sage title wasn’t bought but earned.

The same couldn’t be said of Aman Elyptus from Elypt. To be fair, Orwell didn’t trust Aman. Every rumor painted him as a slime-ball. Orwell took a liberty to snort at Albert Starling and Captain Mercia. Those two were the clowns. They were there at the Venistalis Incident, and they hid behind their powerless Princess when the chips were down.

Speaking of Venistalis, General Alexander Stride who represented the Grand Empire was grinding his teeth at Orwell. The hostility was warranted given that Orwell murdered millions of his people. Personally, Orwell would retort that the Grand Empire threw the first rock, but he believed that argument wouldn’t solve anything.

…

Ruho oversaw the tense atmosphere and realized she was in for a real climb. The Lightwell representative wasn’t here, but they didn’t have a choice but to start the meeting.

…

The Conference was divided into three parts; economic, technology development, and international relations.

Thankfully, the economy passed by rather mundanely. Aside from the Isle of Knowledge, everyone on the table was facing the recession from the instability in Tengen and the aftermath of the Venistalis Incident. Several people glared at Orwell when that fact was mentioned, but there was no escalation.

It was on the technology that the first shot was fired.

…

“Overall, the Isle of Knowledge has been experiencing a greater rate of project completion,” El Acerbia said, moving toward his two goals. “But we would like to perform a joint project with Diogenesis.”

That declaration got the room’s attention.

Ophelia Runesea was the first to speak, “Is this about the Genolord Project?”

Nobody was surprised Ophelia was privy to the detail. Balperia was the most advanced nation on the planet, and major rival of the Grand Empire. It was obvious they would keep track of their crippled enemy and any attempt they used to rise back to prominence. As Grand Sage, Ophelia was the person the nation entrusted to advise on the feasibility of this data.

Instead of Acerbia, it was General Alexander Stride who spoke, “The Genolord Project isn’t under Balperia’s discretion.”

Ophelia wasn’t taking this lying down. “It should be,” she said, glancing at her allies around the room. “You are toying with Reverse Beast’s genetics. This could have a negative effect on all of us.”

Director Acerbia quickly made a counterargument, “Society can’t press forward without taking risks, Grand Sage.” He turned to get help from the Holy Grace Church’s camp. “Think about what it could do to help in our effort against the vampire.”

Thalia nodded, “You might have a point.” However, the girl wasn’t so easy. “However, this technology is untested. I doubt the Cardinal Families will approve any support for such a long-shot.”

“It isn’t exactly a long-shot,” Acerbia said, refuting the point. “Orwell, himself is a successful case.”

Every eye turned to Orwell.

Knowing he was within a doorstep to success, Director El Acerbia pressed his political attack.

“During the attack on Venistalis, eyewitness reported you wielded several powers above the limit of humanity,” El Acerbia said. “It was hard to collect the footage, but what I have is enough to conclude that you enhanced yourself with Tundra’s genetics.” He nodded to Ophelia Runesea. “I believe the Grand Sage also arrived at this conclusion as well.”

Ophelia nodded, conceding the point.

“You want me to tell you how to crack the code?” Orwell said, amused. “I’m surprised. Between you and the Grand Empire, you shouldn't need me at all. Something went wrong I presume.”

“Just a few kinks,” Acerbia admitted. “Now. I know it wouldn’t be fair to force your cooperation. Instead, we believed we could give you a deal.”

“A deal?” Orwell said, glowering.

It was Agnus Aurorin who spoke, “A full pardon, and international recognition.” Agnus’ fat face lifted into a friendly smile. “Your organization is too rash and reckless. Arming the populace, and openly training an unsupervised force like you did is an act of open rebellion against the Seven Continental Alliance’s mandate. Even the Divine Fist is concerned about the signal you are sending.” Agnus looked around the room. “I believe everyone in the room is in agreement about this.”

Ophelia and Thalia nodded in agreement. General Alexander was still glaring at Orwell but made no attempt to refute the fact. Albert Sterling and his wimpy right-hand women couldn’t hide their satisfaction.

Aman of Elypt even decided to add in extra pressure, “Mehest, I am not going to lie. You are an unregistered S-Rank. That is already a criminal offense. Take the deal, or else Rubric will to come after you.”

“Yes,” Rubric said. “This is the final opportunity, Mehest.”

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Orwell knew they were trying to use international pressure to corner him. Within this room, he had no allies. Even neutral parties like Ophelia and Thalia wanted him on the leash. Orwell felt Ruho’s gaze upon him. It was obvious this meeting served as the guide to see what the nation should do. The Dowager Consort wanted to see if Orwell was the man who could provide an out for the continent on a brink of collapse.

“‘International Recognition,’” Orwell quoted. He already knew what they imply, but he wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth. The fact Albert Sterling and his wimpy right-hand women couldn’t hide their satisfaction was already proof positive Orwell wouldn’t like it.

“You want some detail?” Agnus said. “Very well, I believe our Red Blade Rubric should explain your,” he paused for the right word, “offer.”

Rubric addressed the room, “Orwell Mehest, given the severity of your crime against an SCA’s member, you and your organization should be treated like an international criminal. However, in light of your potential as a special asset, it will be a waste to execute you. The Seven Continental Alliance had come to agreement with Olympus and Asgard. You and Diogenesis will repent your crime as a junior member of the Divine Fist, serving directly under the flag of God Realm to aid the Alliance you have offended.”

“Basically, you want me to be your serf,” Orwell raised his eyebrows.

The room shifted.

Aman pressed in the attack, “Call it what you want, but this is a win-win for everyone. You are given the path to forgiveness, and everyone benefits from your expertise.”

In a move that surprised the room, Orwell turned to the Grand Empire’s representative. “Are you okay with this General Stride?” Orwell asked. “I murder your citizens in millions. Their lives are about to sweep under the rug, if I agree to lick the SCA’s boot. Are you seriously entertaining this notion?”

Stride growled, “It is the will of the SCA. The Emperor agreed with it.” The General’s eyes sharpened. “But mark my word, we will work you like a dog for what you did, Orwell Mehest.”

Orwell Mehest shook his head. These people already believed they had won. They were assured that with the okay from both Olympus and Asgard, their position was unassailable. Seeing this, Orwell’s resolve strengthened. The out-of-touch egotistical farts who cared only about keeping their seat of power shouldn’t be empowered by any victory. He needed to agree with Dream. There was a certain sense of satisfaction in giving people who believed they already won a no.

Orwell’s answer was obvious, but he wanted to do it with style. He knew the Dowager Consort Ruho was watching his response, and he came here to impress.

“Before I give my answer, I want to tell you something,” Orwell said. “A little something from my colorful life.”

The room shifted. They sensed the air turned. Some representatives like Ophelia and Xerxes were sitting up in attention. Some like Thalia and Robert were disinterested.

The rest were like Agnus and Acerbia, assured and confident.

“Go ahead, young man,” Agnus said with a shallow mercy. “We have plenty of time.”

“Very well,” Orwell said. “The truth is I do regret the Venistalis Incident.” Orwell chuckled. “I came to prepare to murder millions, but it wasn’t until I watched the devastation that I realized what that meant. Sometimes we don’t realize the consequence of an action, until the stone is tossed.”

Orwell thought back to the time Dream tried and failed to talk him out of the massacre. Orwell did it anyway, believing he came too far. Dream was right. All those lives and futures lost and not a single thing was regained.

The greatest regret of that Incident wasn’t his failure, but the fact he didn’t let Dream preemptively stop him.

Orwell continued his speech, “I can see it in your eyes. Your thirst for the power I created. A power that was defeated by the will, focus, and commitment of a mortal man.” Orwell got to the point. “I believe you have it backward, Director Acerbia. You cannot create a super soldier by adding in power. Power amplifies what is already there. What you will create is a confused mess with no life of its own, and it will blow up in your face.”

Acerbia bristled at Orwell's warning.

Orwell knew it was worthless. They were convinced that the RB modification would tighten their grip on the world slowly slipping from their grasp. All of them must have felt the discontent but, in their alienation, concluded a tighter grip was needed instead of wisdom.

“I know why you are doing this,” Orwell said. “You are afraid the status-quo is shifting. The Divine-race suddenly turned meek. My successful attack on Venistalis proved you aren’t invincible. The incident at the Aquamarine compounded the dread. Finally, your investment to milk the last of the Centuria’s bounty went to ruin as the horses you betted on got annihilated.” Orwell smiled at his invisible rivals. “You sat content as gods among pygmies, and reacted with fear the moment I started arming the common man. The point is you should be more worried about something else. Someone sent guardian angels beyond all comprehension to protect the powerless pygmies you are trampling.”

Everyone had a feeling Orwell’s answer wouldn't be the one they expected. Still they didn’t believe what was about to happen.

A man couldn’t fight an entire planet, could he?

Orwell now gave his answer. “There are only two people on the planet fit to make demands from me and your name isn't Dream or Chronicler. Moreover, you fools are on the collision path with those two, and I want to enjoy every part of your defeat.”

The crowd’s reactions were immediate. Almost all of them went silent in disbelief. Director Acerbia’s mouth twitched like he just witnessed the entire Isle of Knowledge’s equity crashed through the market floor.

It was Agnus who took the crowning reaction. His face switched from red to purple and to green within the length of Orwell’s ‘story’.

“Do you realize that you have effectively burned our olive branch?” Agnus squeezed. “Do you think you can survive the wrath of the Divine Fist, much less Olympus and Asgard?”

“Dream managed to beat me with a five-man team and some grass-root support,” Orwell congested. “I believe I’m not at that level, but I believe I can do something similar.”

Dowager Consort Ruho watched, mystified by the turn of event. She wanted to test whether Orwell could navigate his way through hostile political situations. The man had one-upped that effectively declaring independence from the world with an intention to fight for it.

“Orwell Mehest,” the Dowager Consort asked, wanting to know the reason behind this political glorious one-man-charge. “What inspired your confidence?”

Orwell happily obliged her and ignored the room to answer her question.

“Milady, sometimes in our lives a person must decide what he stood for,” Orwell said. “He must carve his own path and embalm his beliefs into the world. Men I deem my equal stood tall against the worst, and they never bow in defeat, so why should I?”

The Dowager Consort needed one more thing to make up my mind.

“So what do you stand for, Mr Mehest?” She asked.

“Why are you bothering asking this question, Ruho!” Ophelia Runesea warned.

“Yeah, there is no place for that guy after this,” Aman yelled. “We have to arrest him!”

Ruho didn’t take this lying down, “We are still in the Conference, Lord Elyptus.”

“What do I want?” Orwell sighed. “Let me put it simply, Phantasia is like a ship with the Divine-race as a helmsman.” Orwell turned to Ruho. “Let me ask you, Dowager Consort, are you satisfied with how the ship is going? Can you trust your life on this vessel?”

The question silenced Ruho. Her husband died. Her brother figure, comatose. Her nation spent centuries being degraded as a ‘one-third-Alliance-member’. Tai Tianshang — a God Realm brat — threatened her nation after throwing her neighbors into chaos. After years of crying for justice, the SCA only showed concern when Frisnia threatened to go under the Enma clan. Even then, the Enma clan was infamous for keeping its minions in a perpetual chain. The life in this world was about bowing and scraping to the powerful as they fought among themselves. It was the life of choosing between the frying pan and the fire.

The fall of Centuria proved more than anything that SCA and the gods never care about them.

Ruho’s silence spoke to the entire room, painting the image of faith that had vanished.

“Nonsense,” Agnus finally got his head out of the panic roof. Ruho’s grim silence showed him the reality he could no longer avert his eyes from. “We of the SCA are the shepherds protecting the stability of the world.”

Orwell wasn’t having it, “You meant stability in suffering. My forefather got genocide by the Grand Empire under your watch.”

“You dare say that after Venistalis?” Alexander Stride roared.

“Yes,” Orwell answered without hesitation. “I must be great to be SCA’s golden boy. You get away with almost everything. Do I have to remind you that the Grand Empire’s apathy is the major reason why Centuria fell to ruin?”

Alexander had no counter for that.

“Let’s be real, you guys are helming the ship right into the iceberg, while the Divine-race plays pool on deck,” Orwell said. “Because of your grip on power, there is no way to punish you and hold you accountable. Sorry, but I can’t have that. If a helmsman is drunk and incapable, we throw them overboard. My goal is creating the system where your dictatorial assholes can be punished for your fuck-up.”

Agnus trembled like his world was exploding, “You dare?”

“Yes,” Orwell replied, stone-faced.

It was then Ruho made up her mind.

“Good,” Ruho said. “I believe Frisnia has come to its decision.” She turned to Orwell. “The SCA can no longer be trusted, and the Enma will lead us to oppression. Orwell Mehest, I want you to be our protector.”