Chapter 292: What if? II

A commotion rippled through the Triarcan Keep.

The murmurs of many gathered forces stirred with unease as subtle waves of rising Primordial Energy crackled in the air. Several beings stood taller, their auras tightening. Thrones pulsed faintly. Ancient Ones narrowed their eyes.

And at the center of it all, Achilles had analyzed many things as at this time…he simply smiled.

It was not the smile of peace.

It was the kind of smile that appeared right before a calculated fire burned through every falsehood in the room.

His posture was relaxed, hands behind his back. His eyes held a glint of amusement- measured, cold.

“Oh,” he said lightly, “so it’s just about fates and wills intertwining, then.”

He glanced toward Alukarth, the Crown Prince of the Royal Panthera Lineage.

“I see now. Once humans elect Ancient Ones to rule over them, Planar Destiny naturally wraps itself around their chosen leaders… and in turn, it flows into the Ancient Ones, yes?”

His tone was casual.

Innocent.

And yet the room tensed further.

Alukarth smiled again, clapping once with genuine energy. “Yes, exactly. I knew you were sharp the moment I saw you. You understand what’s needed for survival.”

Achilles nodded along as if digesting a fine piece of information.

Still smiling.

“Good, good. Just wanted to be sure.” He tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “Actually… that raises a question for me. A small one.”

He turned toward the gathered humans, as if engaging in a thoughtful classroom discussion.

“If Ancient Ones being elected to rule over humans causes Destiny to bind them together… then theoretically…”

He let the silence stretch just long enough.

“…wouldn’t it also be possible for humans to be elected to rule over Ancient Ones?”

…!

That single sentence dropped like a weight into the center of the arena.

The temperature shifted.

The air thickened.

Golden strands of destiny began to tremble- some vanishing, some surging.

And Primordial Energy began to rise.

Cold.

Immense.

Explosive.

Achilles, of course, remained completely calm.

Even as thrones quivered and silent glances passed between Ancient Ones.

He tilted his head slightly.

Voice light.

Expression curious.

“This might be the answer,” he mused aloud. “Maybe that’s how true unity will form. After all, if it’s about Will, and mine just happens to align with Destiny… then wouldn’t Destiny naturally flow through me?”

He looked around again, his expression filled with what could only be described as childlike revelation.

And then he turned back toward Alukarth.

“You know,” he said, voice smooth and piercing, “let’s suppose a little scenario. Just for fun.”

The Keep had gone nearly silent.

Even Selamira’s brows narrowed slightly.

“Let’s say someone like me- just a tiny human with a bit of Planar Destiny overhead- was elected by, oh, I don’t know… you.”

He gestured lazily toward the Crown Prince.

“Say you sat below me. Served under me. Became one of my subordinates. Don’t you think, with you sitting beneath my glorious, Destiny-filled human throne… that you might get a whiff of that Planar Destiny too?”

…!

BOOM!

The tension detonated.

A shockwave of rising power pulsed across the arena as dozens of Ancient Ones shifted uncomfortably.

The smile on Alukarth’s face vanished.

His golden-blue eyes became deep and stern.

A pressure that had been hidden beneath his casual nobility now rose like a golden hurricane.

The easy majesty of a Crown Prince replaced by the quiet fury of a being not accustomed to being challenged.

“You speak of impossible things,” Alukarth said finally, voice low and thick with regal might. “Of things that should not be spoken. Tread carefully, human.”

But Achilles only smiled back, calm and calculating, as if this had all gone exactly how he wanted.

He turned his head slowly, the glint in his eyes like frost sliding across a blade.

His voice rang out- measured, unwavering, designed to dig deep into the heart of every Ancient One present.

“So Ancient Ones,” he began, “can rule over humans and intertwine fates. Draw strength. Protect the Plane. Become beacons of power.”

His gaze swept the seated figures, pausing only briefly on the Crown Prince, then drifting to the other Ancient Races watching from elevated thrones and terraces.

“But it cannot be the other way around?”

…!

He took a step forward, his tone gaining an edge of quiet venom beneath the calm.

“Why is that? Why is it unthinkable for humans to rule over Ancient Ones? To be the ones to uplift others with the Destiny that now flows through them?”

A hush fell.

Not a single word spoken.

Not even a breath.

Only the golden strings of Planar Destiny quivered violently in the silence.

Achilles didn’t stop.

His expression was cool. Dangerous.

His voice lowered just enough to command attention.

“From what I’ve read of history… from what I’ve seen… humans were enslaved.”

His eyes flicked toward the Ancient Ones.

“Toiled beneath your feet in the earliest eras. Beaten. Broken. Controlled.”

He looked at Solmyron.

At Selamira.

At the gleaming thrones of Dragons and the towering presence of other Mythological Ancients.

“Maybe… it’s time for a change of pace.”

…!

A shift.

A stirring.

Primordial Energy thickened, pressing down against the bones and spirits of all present.

And still he didn’t stop.

Achilles smiled again.

Unbothered.

“How about this,” he offered, like a proposal at a council table. “Let’s try an experiment. Just a small one. See how it plays out.”

He tilted his head, expression thoughtful.

“Let’s put humans above the Ancient Ones. Let them rule. Command. Decide.”

He let the weight of his words settle like iron.

“And see how Destiny flows. See if the Ancient Ones enjoy the taste of chains.”

…!

BOOM!

The Triarcan Keep quaked.

Not from battle.

But from sheer, silent weight.

Even the heavens above seemed to dim as titanic forces began to awaken.

Dozens of thrones flickered with power.

The atmosphere became suffocating.

Deadly.

A single breath could ignite war.

And yet…

A voice broke the air.

Cold.

Commanding.

Clipped with ancient disdain.

“Enough of this bullshit.”

…!

Selamira had risen.

Her robe billowed faintly with suppressed might.

And her eyes, calm and deep as the abyss, were locked onto Achilles!

Onward!