Chapter 294: A Choice Must Be Made For Them II

Achilles felt it.

A deep, reverberating thrum in his core.

His lineage pulsed.

It churned.

The Adrastia Emperor King bloodline within him roared in silent defiance.

He was the Last Adrastia Emperor King.

He was not meant to be ruled.

He could not be ruled.

So as the Lunaris Throne continued his calm talk of benefits, of treasures and shared hardships for those Dynasties that submitted, Achilles’ gaze turned colder.

As other Dynasties began to rise.

The Drakorith Dynasty. The Myrrnith Dynasty. One after another, those already backing the Ancient Ones echoed their approval.

And with them, a shift in the air.

More Dynasties.

More voices falling in line.

More chains forming.

Then…

Many eyes turned.

To the Glacivane Throne.

To the Magitech Throne.

To the Thornveil Throne.

To the three ancient Thrones standing in silence behind him.

And to him.

To the man who stood at the center of it all, his hand held firmly in Rose’s.

He squeezed her hand gently, then stepped forward.

His voice was clear.

It cut through the tension like a blade forged of fate itself.

“When it comes to me,” he said, “and the Humans under my protection…”

His gaze swept across the gathered Ancient Ones.

“We will not participate in the enslavement of Humans once more.”

…!

The words echoed.

Staggered.

Final.

“We will prepare on our own. With our own means.”

The moment he spoke, the air dropped in temperature.

A breath of winter passed over the gathered thrones, the chilling certainty of his decision crashing over all like frost.

Eyes widened.

A few mouths opened, but no words came out.

And yet Achilles remained composed, eyes unwavering.

“If this was the entire point of these so-called discussions in the Triarcan Keep,” he said, “then the rest of you can continue.”

He turned slightly.

His cloak billowed.

The wind stirred, responding to the quiet power in his blood.

“Because we…”

He looked to the Glacivane Throne.

To the Thornveil Throne.

To the Magitech Throne.

To Rose.

“To those who stand behind me…”

He smiled.

“We will take our leave.”

HUUM!

The wind swirled around Achilles’ rising figure, his garments drifting upward like an unfurled banner of refusal.

Behind him, Rose rose beside him with steady breath, her hand still in his, her gaze fierce and unflinching.

The Glacivane Throne stepped forward next.

Then the Thornveil Throne.

Then the Magitech Throne.

The dozen of Astral Core Ascension entities behind them all lifted into the air with seamless unity, following their Emperor King without hesitation.

And just then…

The Monkey King chuckled beside them, his hands behind his head as he floated lazily with a lopsided grin, eyes gleaming as though watching the world’s finest theater.

But not everyone was so amused.

Sneers danced across the faces of many Ancient Ones. Some simply scoffed. Others glared like they’d seen a stain on the very fabric of reality.

And then…

A voice.

Smooth. Deep. Ancient.

A humanoid form emerged from amidst the ranks of the Mythical Dragons.

Golden scales gleamed beneath radiant robes. His hair shimmered silver-blue, long and flowing. Serpentine pupils stared from his eyes- eyes too old, too vast, too knowing.

He floated forward with elegance, voice calm.

“We did all of this,” the Mythical Dragon began, “because someone within the Ancient Lineages…believed we could try something different.”

He glanced toward the Pride of Aeonthar, toward Selamira, then back toward Achilles with quiet venom beneath his smile.

“That perhaps,” the dragon continued, “since humans had kept the Plane steady during the Long Slumber…they deserved a voice. A say in who should rule, and how.”

He sighed, placing one hand gently over his heart.

“But you see, I thought differently.”

His golden-blue gaze scanned the gathered Dynasties and Ancient Ones alike.

“I believed- no, I knew- that humans, like those in the past, carry within their very blood a weakness of Will. A defiance that lacks clarity. A habit of conflict that dooms even their noblest causes.”

He floated slowly through the air, passing over dignitaries and seated giants alike.

“That Will…must be steered.”

“It must be guided by something stronger.”

He stopped now, facing Achilles directly. His pupils flashed, a golden corona spreading from them like ripples on starlit waters.

“I told them,” he said, “that humans would never truly change. Even if they possessed every answer. Even if the truth stood naked before them…they would still choose wrong.”

His smile widened- mocking, patient, cruel.

“And look.”

He gestured at Achilles with a single glimmering claw.

“Here we are. One of the major human factions…turning their back.”

“Which means…” his eyes narrowed into blades of golden intent “I will be making that choice for you.”

“I will personally ensure the humans under your banner are ruled by the Mythical Dragons.”

“So that we may remind you…”

He leaned in slightly.

“…of where you came from.”

“…and where you are headed.”

He turned, his arms outstretched to the heavens above as he addressed everyone present.

“I do not say this because I despise you. I say it because I must.”

“Because this Plane cannot survive with destiny trapped in chaos.”

“Because Planar Destiny must flow once more through the bloodline of Dragons.”

His body began to shine then.

Not just with light.

With starlight.

The entirety of his being lit up as golden capillaries, glimmering neurons, and streaks of Astral energy coursed through him like a living constellation.

He hovered there, a dragon among beasts, his serpentine pupils flashing with swirling brilliance as he declared!

“So go, little human.”

HUUM!

His voice dripped with celestial decree.

“Leave this Keep. Turn your back on the truth. And know…”

His voice thundered louder now, filled with the roar of distant stars colliding.

“…within days, my people will come.”

“To institute the rule you fear.”

“To draw the Planar Destiny back to where it belongs.”

“To dragons.”

“To power.”

“To order.”

A silence bloomed like a suffocating dome over the Triarcan Keep.

And still, Achilles floated.

Smiling. Silent.

Eyes cold. Mind sharper than any blade drawn.

Waiting. Calculating. Unbending!

Glorious!

Onward!