"...You cattle incapable of understanding the simplest facts!!"
After Glacion's final outburst, his expression suddenly shifted from outrage to shock, as though he had only just realized what had come out of his mouth and to whom he had said it. Then he took a step backward, and a faint smile returned to his face, carrying a hint of awkwardness. "My apologies. You both know that I'm not exactly a social person. It seems I've lost my sense of how a proper conversation is supposed to be conducted."
"....?" Omes and Omira stared at Glacion in disbelief.
If the two of them joined forces against him, they could undoubtedly defeat him and inflict severe injuries upon him. Yet neither of their gazes contained killing intent or anger. Instead, there was only a profound shock that left thoughts scattered and words difficult to find. The conversation had strayed so far from where either of them expected it to go that even responding had become strangely difficult.
Omira completely ignored the fact that he had just been insulted multiple times. "...Those thoughts... did they actually pass through your head one day, and you simply decided to contact the Grave Empire and surrender?"
"...." Glacion calmed down somewhat after sensing that the danger of the situation escalating had passed. "Not surrender. There wasn't even a war between us for me to surrender in the first place." Then he continued with a small nod. "But yes, I contacted them and offered to become a Wing. To avoid suspicion, I told them I wanted new fleets, stabilizers for my descendants, and so on... things worth around five billion in total. They agreed."
Then he continued, "I don't mind if they think I'm greedy. In fact, it was probably easier for everyone if they did. The important thing is that I got my opportunity and entered the procession. Perhaps I entered late, after the wars had already begun to ignite across the sectors and after many major decisions had already been made, but I entered on my own terms and without fighting a war. That's enough for me." His brows furrowed slightly as he recalled that period.
"A quiet person. Unsociable. Someone who dislikes problems... that's how you've always been," Omes said while observing him carefully. "Yet you decided to join someone's procession because he's a genius? Why not join someone else? There are many geniuses in this universe. Many brilliant rulers, researchers, commanders, and law users have existed throughout your long years of life."
Glacion immediately understood what he was implying. "I understand your point, Omes. The Syndicate approached me before I joined as a Wing and encouraged me to attack them. Then they came again after I joined, bringing threats without beginning or end. In fairness, they even carried out some of those threats..."
"...Lord Robin and the Archon share certain similarities. They're both geniuses. They're both playing an enormous game whose full shape is invisible to people like us. Neither of them cares much about small fish like you and me. But the Archon possesses the advantages of experience, stability, the Syndicate, and overwhelming individual strength. Superficially speaking, the choice between them seems obvious, and if one only looked at the current balance of power, most people would probably arrive at the same conclusion."
Then he continued, "But there was one factor that decided my choice of side... age." He furrowed his brows slightly. "Let's not forget the reports claiming that Lord Robin hasn't even reached ten thousand years of age yet. Some of the more exaggerated reports even claim he hasn't reached three thousand."
"...At such a ridiculously young age, he managed to cure and befriend the Elder Cosmic, establish the Cosmic Academies, ignite wars across roughly twenty sectors, and challenge both the Behemoths and the Syndicate simultaneously without being crushed beneath either one." Then a small smile appeared on his face. "What happens if you give him another ten thousand years?"
"You're saying that despite seeing the present clearly before you, you chose to bet on a distant future?" Omes asked, his tone thoughtful rather than mocking.
Omira followed immediately. "And who can guarantee that he'll even live another ten thousand years? Plenty of monsters throughout history died before fulfilling their potential."
"I'll do everything within my power to make sure he lives," Glacion replied seriously, without even pausing to consider the answer. "Second, even if he doesn't, what happens to me? I die?" Then he shook his head. "Who says I won't die if I choose the Syndicate's side instead? Since when did any faction start offering immortality to its supporters?"
Then he gestured toward the two brothers with his head. "If the two of you choose the Syndicate's side while remaining in Mid Sector 99, the very stronghold of the Grave Empire, what do you think will happen? Lord Robin will do everything in his power to eliminate you first. He won't leave an unpredictable variable inside his personal sector. He won't allow two independent Guardians to remain behind his lines while a larger conflict unfolds. Sylas should have taught you that lesson already."
"If you choose the Syndicate's side today, then exactly what you fear might happen to me if Lord Robin dies will happen to you instead. Perhaps I may lose my wager in the future, but you will lose yours today. The Syndicate, which already treats both Lord Robin and the Elder Cosmic with caution and calculates every move it makes around them with extreme care, is not suddenly going to change its methods and send its Guardians rushing to save you. Instead, it will use the two of you as tools to reduce the Grave Empire's strength and harass Lord Robin within the heart of his own territory, squeezing value out of your existence before discarding the consequences afterward."
"If we were in another sector, we could have ignored all of this and remained spectators," Glacion continued, his tone growing calmer now that he had committed himself to explaining everything. "But we found ourselves standing in the middle of the storm, and now we have to live with that reality whether we like it or not." He pointed toward himself. "I chose a side that gives me at least a ten percent chance of victory. Meanwhile, the choice the two of you are preparing to make would leave your chances of survival at one percent. And honestly, that's already being generous. That chance only exists if you abandon the Endless Chaos Empire altogether, leave behind everything you've built, and somehow manage to escape with your own lives before the situation collapses around you."
"........"
"Hoo~" Glacion let out a long sigh before forcing a smile onto his face, though it carried more exhaustion than amusement. "Sorry about my approach. I got carried away, not because I dislike either of you. I have no personal issue with you. It's because I've grown accustomed to your presence over the years, and I've always respected how reasonable you've been when it came to avoiding interference in the affairs of other powers. I don't want the two of you ending up dead as some side note in a larger conflict, the sort of footnote people mention briefly before moving on to discuss the truly important events. Conflicts that, forgive me for saying so, are far larger than either of you."
"...I've said what I needed to say, and my conscience is clear now. The decision is yours. Whether you drift with the current as I did, or bow to the Syndicate's threats—which I know very well are difficult to ignore and even more difficult to reject—the choice belongs to you. Forget everything I've said if you want."
Then he took another step backward, both hands behind his back, while his spiritual sense remained fixed on his ring, ready to draw his weapon and extract Holak at a moment's notice if the situation turned violent, exactly as his mission required and exactly as he had prepared himself to do from the beginning.
"...."
Omes and Omira continued staring at Glacion for a long time.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them moved.
Then, slowly, they turned to look at one another.
There were no spiritual fluctuations. No energy transmissions. No hidden techniques operating between them.
The only communication between them was through their eyes.
Their gazes were unsettled, their pupils moving rapidly and in a strangely coordinated manner as years of mutual understanding allowed them to exchange thoughts without speaking a word. Questions, doubts, calculations, fears, possibilities, and conclusions seemed to pass silently between them while the throne hall remained completely still.
The exchange continued for more than ten minutes.
No one interrupted them.
Even Serfon remained silent.
Then, at last, both of them sighed and turned forward again—not toward Glacion, but toward someone standing farther behind him.
Omes raised a hand and pointed.
"Your name is Serfon, correct? Come and present your offer again... We'll listen this time."
"....!!" Serfon's eyes widened to their limits, and delight immediately appeared across his face. "Hahaha! You won't regret it, Your Excellencies! I have got an extraordinary offer, one worthy of your status, and if you join as Wings, hahaha!!"
Glacion's expression relaxed, and a faint smile appeared on his face.
"....."
He had never fought for the Empire before, and he had no desire to fight for it afterward.
Such matters belonged to those who cared about them, and he had no intention of dying over political struggles that were never truly his concern.
But if he could help in this way...
If he could prevent a pointless conflict and steer events toward a more stable outcome through nothing more than a conversation...
That was enough.
Then he finally turned around.
It was time to take Holak and leave.
His mission here was over.
Whatever happened between Serfon and the two brothers no longer concerned him. He had escorted Holak, delivered the message, spoken his piece, and carried out his responsibilities. As long as Holak returned safely, his role in this affair would be finished, and whatever agreements followed afterward would belong to other people.
"Hmm?!"
Glacion suddenly stopped, his expression becoming one of confusion and surprise.
At that moment, Holak was glaring down at him with pure fury.
His face twisted with pain, his teeth grinding together from sheer frustration, and the veins along his neck seemed ready to burst. He looked directly into Glacion's eyes and spoke in a tone that sounded less like words and more like a curse dragged straight out of the depths of hell itself.
"If they accept the lizard's conditions, I'll never forgive you for wasting this opportunity for the Imperial Guard!!"