The smoke, aided by the cannon blasts, kept the leaders safe. Only the dim glow of Zel’s flying sword and the strength of will in the unafraid Korrich kept them together. Suddenly out of the mist, they saw a group of soldiers and vehicles as the smoke began to clear.

Shocked at this sudden clearing, the soldiers readied to fire. But Zel flew a shockwave of such strength and force that it knocked all in sight away. Now that they were close enough, Zel leapt out of the cloud.

“Where’s he gone?” a leader asked.

“He’s dead!” another shouted.

“Hold still, he’ll be back!” Traman shouted.

“He’d better, I can barely breathe in this!”

All they could see was the flash, flash and blast of Zel’s shockwaves as he went from group to group blasting away at the men. They heard trucks overturn, men shout, and explosions fly away harmlessly. Moments later, the mists cleared and they saw the gates in front of them. Zel ran over and sent a truck flying with a shockwave. It crashed through the gate, leaving them just enough room to make it through.

“This way,” he said, and rushed on, surrounded by the remains of the many trucks and soldiers.

“Follow the Prophet!” one of the leaders shouted.

“Hurry!”

Fifty yards away.

Now inside the lawn of the Capital House, they ran to the door. Zel paved the way for them, and sent shockwave after shockwave into the standing soldiers. One man stood in front of the doors and Zel sent a wave after him that threw him into the building, knocking over a few men lying in wait with the splintered door. The leaders went inside.

“Keep a sharp eye,” Korrich said, peering around the lavishly decorated room with the thick, red carpet. “And watch for ambushes.”

They walked up the grand marble staircase in the entryway and made their way toward Segrich’s offices. A man with a rapid stood in wait. Zel quickly jumped in front of him and blocked every single shot. When the man ran out of ammunition, he stood in fear, watching the sword-wielding man walk up to, and past him. The leaders all fearlessly walked past the stunned man. After they’d gone, he fainted.

The group turned down a hallway and Zel saw two mini-bombs roll toward him, thrown from somewhere unknown. He quickly kicked one away and absorbed the blast of the second with his body and a shockwave that dissipated its force.

“That was close!” a leader said.

“The door’s over there! We’re here!” another shouted.

“Hurry before more come!” Traman said as they turned the corner.

The guards standing there, who’d hastily made a last position, beheld the force and dropped their guns, running away in panic. The leaders of the minor races reached Lord Councilor Segrich’s office.

Segrich stood behind his desk, a huge pistol in one hand and the Lord’s Rod in the other. Dane stood by his side. “Don’t take another step!” the Lord Councilor shouted.

Zel walked calmly into the room. The leaders followed.

“I said don’t take another step!” Segrich roared, shaking with anger.

Zel stopped a foot away from the leader of the Grichians, and stared expressionless at the man as he dripped blood on the deep blue carpet. The room was ornate and decorated in the whites and blues of Grichian taste. Korrich, arm in arm with the leaders, stepped up in defiance next to Zel. The reddish skinned leader of the Grichians eyed them all one by one, contempt mixing with fear and his skin even redder with hate and fear.

“Don’t do this,” Korrich said. “Zel, the Gold Sevens Prophet, has disposed of all your soldiers in the area. It would be wise for you to give us the opportunity to—”

“Shut up!” Segrich shouted, his pistol shaking furiously. “You have no idea what you’re doing, what you’ve ruined! All you fools do is ruin Grichia!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“We’re here to discuss peace, Segrich. We want to end wars, not make them,” Traman said. “We don’t want to be minor races anymore.”

“Do you really think the next major race will help any of you more than I have?” Segrich spat.

“There won’t be any more major race,” Villar, leader of the Bine said, her voice firm. “I think we’ve come to realize that we want everyone to be equal, to give everyone a chance at life.”

Segrich grunted in disdain and said, “And go against nature? Yes, we’ll see how long that lasts.” He lowered his gun and Dane visibly relaxed. “The natural order always wins out. And the natural order is that the races compete. The one that is meant to thrive will be the major race. It’s how the world was designed to be.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Zel said.

“Shut up, Prophet. All your meddling and convincing of these fools has done is to cause more wars to come,” Segrich said, pained and weary. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to bring peace to this world, a natural and good peace, one we were meant to have? Can’t you see that our children will benefit?”

“From the deaths of millions!” Korrich said.

Segrich sighed and said, “Nature is cruel.”

“Yet we are not of nature, my dear, misguided brother. We are human. Our existence is not guided by the will of another power but the will of our own hearts and thoughts. The heart of man is the same, regardless of outside color,” Korrich said with a smile. “You and I, brother.”

“I’m not your brother and never will be!” Segrich shouted.

“Segrich!” Dane said suddenly. “Listen to them already. At least hear them out.”

“I will hear nothing from lesser beings,” Segrich said, turning with contempt to his advisor.

“The world is changing. Whether you will it or not, we races are beginning to unite,” Korrich said, and spread his arms, embracing the group of leaders. “Through tragedy, we’ve seen the error of our ways and have conquered our fears through a great trial. All we ask of you is to sit calmly and discuss a new world. Whether you accept it or not, we will bring change and we will have peace.”

Segrich’s rage boiled. “You want peace? I’ll let you have your peace,” he said. “But sooner or later your unnatural way will crumble. And the future races will know that I opposed going against nature.” Segrich raised the glistening Lord’s Rod. “When the world crumbles, they will hear the message I sent to them echoing through the tragedy. Hear me, minor races. The major race will overcome!” Segrich put his gun to his temple. With a smile, he pulled the trigger, baptizing the leaders with his blood as he and the Lord’s Rod fell to the floor.

Zel leapt at the man, but was unable to stop him. As Segrich’s body went limp with the clatter of the Rod rolling across the floor, the leaders breathed a long sigh of relief.

Zel let his sword’s glow die as Dane looked down at his dead leader.

“Segrich couldn’t take the change,” he said. “I think, in the interest of the world, that I will be open to discussion.”

Zel, now fully recovered, stood in the pouring rain. It felt cool on his face as he watched the people, of all races, clear away the debris.

“They’ve been at it awhile,” Korrich said as he joined the Prophet on the balcony. The Capital House had many balconies. Nearly all the leaders had found one of their own, desiring to be alone to contemplate the changing world. Korrich sighed. “A few fights have broken out, too. It will be a good length of time before they can work well together.”

Zel saw two men pass in the streets below. They both seemed to snarl at each other as they wheeled away pieces of the trucks.

“Change is hard,” Zel stated.

“You know, in ages past, when a change of the major races occurred, the planet’s name was rewritten. We cannot continue to call our world Grichia after what has happened. Maybe we should vote on a name put forward,” Korrich said, and leaned on the railing.

“May I make a suggestion?” Zel asked after a pause. Korrich nodded. “Call it Meld.”

“Meld.” Korrich thought over the name. “A mixture. No one ingredient greater than the other.” Zel nodded and breathed in the cool air. “Your hands are still scarred. Can you not heal them?”

“I can,” Zel said with pain. “But I won’t. They’ll remind me of my failure.”

“You didn’t fail, my brother. You succeeded more than you could ever know,” Korrich said, and put a hand on the Prophet’s shoulder.

“Still.”

Korrich understood the man’s feelings, and left the matter alone as he leaned on the railing again.

“The Prophets need me,” Zel added.

“Yes, I’m sure they do,” Korrich said, and closed his eyes as the rain soaked into him. “When will you leave?”

“They’ve been begging me to go since I let them find me. Once I allow it, the Whites will shift me home.”

Korrich nodded. “You know…” He pulled out the gun he’d kept on him since Zel first arrived, an age ago. “It will be a long time before the people of… Meld will accept Prophets. I’m still a little untrusting myself. After all, the only one I know let my wife die.” Korrich smiled, and Zel nodded, seeing his apology nearly accepted. “There’s just one thing. And it might bring closure to my and Meld’s people’s distrust of Prophets. I promised you I’d use this last shot to kill you.” Korrich pulled the striker back on the gun as Zel turned to him.

“It was an honor. And I wish you a long life and success in remaking Meld,” Zel said with a smile.

“And I wish you peace, my friend. Thank you,” Korrich said, leveled the gun at Zel, and fired. A white light enveloped the balcony and Zel was gone.

“I feel much better now,” Korrich said, and went back inside, tossing the gun over his shoulder and off the balcony to the muddy ground below.

“I told you that was a bad idea,” Trella said as Zel materialized on Sevens after she’d shifted him.

Zel grunted, and readied himself for the hardships to come. His shoulder would be sore for an hour or so.