Zarvok stood tall and poised, and with a smooth beckoning motion of his hand, he smiled.

“Alright, gentlemen—shall we sit and talk? That would be alright with both of you, yes?”

Both the Guild Master and the Association Master responded with a simple nod of their heads—no words, no ceremony. They understood this wasn’t a courtly affair, but a meeting of power.

The Emperor turned, robes shifting gently as he walked to his seat. Once they had all taken their places around the white marble table, he sat as well, then glanced between the two with calm confidence.

“Shall we begin?”

Another pair of nods.

Zarvok’s smile returned, a touch sharper now—still pleasant, still composed, but layered with intent.

“So, tell me—what was so urgent that both of you rushed to meet me? I’m all ears.”

He lifted one hand and pointed playfully at his ear. The meaning behind the gesture, however, was anything but playful:

“You asked for this meeting. You speak first.”

The two leaders exchanged a glance. It was Titan, the Guild Master, who spoke first, his smile matching the Emperor’s in sharpness.

“Let’s not pretend, Emperor. You know exactly why we’re here.”

His aura surged for the briefest moment—not in aggression, but in assertion. It was the energy of someone not interested in games.

Though Zarvok remained unfazed.

“Of course I know,” he replied, voice smooth like oiled steel. “But I want to hear it from your own mouths. So, speak it.”

At that, both the Guild Master and the Alchemy Association Master raised their eyebrows—at the emperor’s behavior and his stubborn refusal to budge. It was as if he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in taking even a sliver of initiative himself

Berlin Elfenhine leaned forward in his chair. His fingers tapped lightly on the cool marble surface of the round table—each tap deliberate, like a countdown.

“It’s about the Holy Region—the one the Minotaur delegation spoke of,” he said plainly. “As far as we know, they told us they visited your empire with the same proposal they offered to the other two. But do note—we are not here representing anyone else’s interests, only those of our own associations.”

“They did indeed,” the Emperor said, voice calm but deliberate. “And their intentions were clear. They want us to act as their protectorate—a shield to legitimize and secure their claim.”

He paced slowly beside the round table, eyes on the two representatives seated before him. “We all understand, gentlemen, the gravity of what it means to even speak of the Holy Regions. Among the known super states, only a rare few tier-1 powers possess such a place. And due to the resources and the natural evolution-enhancing environment those lands provide, these states—by power, strength, and cultivation—are beyond anything we can currently match. Even a dozen tier-2 powers together wouldn’t bring one of them down.”

He paused, letting that weight sink in.

“The Minotaur race, just barely scratching tier-2 status, knows this well. They understand that securing such a place for themselves alone is a fantasy.”

He turned toward the two guests. The master of the Forger Guild, Titan Dwarva, gave a small nod, arms folded as he added, “Their racial instincts serve them well. They may be blunt, but they’re not fools. Recognizing their limits is a strength. Seeking allies to guard their claim—however fragile—is a mark of survival, not submission.”

Berlin Elfenhine, the Alchemy Association’s branch master, tapped his long fingers on the marble surface before offering his insight. “And we can’t ignore their cunning either. They contacted us—the Alchemy Association—and you—the Forger Guild—knowing full well the weight we carry across galaxies. Then, they reached out to two tier-1 empires known to counterbalance our influence… and finally you, Emperor Zarvok.”

He looked at the Emperor, green eyes steady. “Your race, feared even by other tier-1 states before they dare act against you. Their strategy was deliberate.”

“Brilliant indeed… and quite deliberate as well,” the Emperor continued, folding his arms behind his back as he paced. “That much, I believe, we all understand.”

He paused, casting a glance at both the guild and association masters. “But I must admit… their proposal isn’t half bad. After all, they’re willing to relinquish the majority of the Holy Region to us—five powers—while only retaining a small portion for themselves. A tempting offer, and frankly, a very smart move on their part.”

He stopped walking and slowly raised his hand, three fingers extended.

“They’ve secured three strategic gains through this offer,” he stated plainly.

Titan Dwarva raised a brow with a grin. “And what might those be, Emperor?”

Zarvok smiled slightly, then responded, “First… with this offer, they’re practically ensuring our investment in this alliance. Once we stand to gain a share of the Holy Region’s resources—immense as they are—and back it with the weight of our collective influence and strength, no one in the galaxy will dare interfere. Even if word spreads that a new Holy Region has appeared… the power balance will prevent most from even considering a move against us. In that way, the Minotaur Clan secures not just temporary protection—but long-term dominance over their share of the land. And that, I don’t need to explain further.”

Berlin nodded. “Indeed. You don’t.”

Zarvok continued, lowering one finger. “Second… by approaching us with this deal, they are doing us a favor, whether we accept it or not. That creates leverage—debt, of a sort. A favor owed, even if unspoken. And they will call upon it one day. Perhaps they’ll ask for resources… perhaps for our backing in some distant dispute. But the debt will exist.”

Now only one finger remained.

“And third… the connections they will forge with each of us,” Zarvok said quietly. “Should we accept, they will not only gain powerful allies—but embed themselves within our networks, systems, and future dealings. The Minotaur Clan may be small now… but if this works, they’ll be tied into a web of galactic power that even tier-1 states might think twice about disturbing.”

“Now then,” the Emperor said, his tone sharpening ever so slightly. “Let us set aside the matter of the Minotaurs for a moment… and speak frankly about our own interests here.”

He walked slowly back to his seat, his expression now stripped of politeness, revealing only solemn intensity.

“I will not dance around the truth,” he continued. “You both know how… yes, desperate, my race has been for tens of thousands of years—for a true Holy Region. We have long stagnated at the tier-1 state level, unable to break through… and this, this is our opportunity. A chance to take the final step.”

Zarvok’s gaze fell directly on the two of them, voice steady. “Now, I know I cannot claim the entire Holy Region—nor would I dare to ask that of you. But please, gentlemen… consider carefully how much my race could contribute to both of your organizations—the Forger Guild and the Alchemy Association—should we ascend.”

He slowly sat down again, folding his hands before him on the white marble table.

“If we were to become a true tier-1 super state, backed by the power of a genuine Holy Region,” he continued, “our rise would be inevitable. Our race sits at a junction so close to the Sacred River itself… all we lack are the resources. Resources that exist in true abundance only within the Holy Regions.”

The words hung in the air like a loaded cannon. Both Dwarva and Berlin straightened, stunned by the Emperor’s candid revelation.

“You mean…” Dwarva finally broke the silence, his voice low with astonishment, “the Star Empire is already on the brink of ascending to a tier-1 super state?”

Berlin leaned forward as well, eyes sharp. “Have you already achieved a technological breakthrough?” he asked, voice calm but his mind clearly racing, calculating the weight of this revelation.

The Emperor gave a single, deliberate nod. “Yes. Our technologists have achieved a central breakthrough in core capabilities. If we had access to the right class of materials—the ones that only Holy Regions possess in volume—we could, within a few thousand years, field a fleet that would rival even the initial power bases of the older super states.”

For a moment, silence blanketed the room.

Then, both guild leaders turned toward each other—eyes wide, thoughts racing. They had come here to discuss division of influence, to haggle over stakes and access. But this… this changed everything.

“This… this changes everything,” Dwarva muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were locked onto the Emperor, but his thoughts were clearly racing. Across from him, Berlin—usually calm and reserved—was momentarily frozen, stunned into silence.

It took a moment, but the Alchemy Association Master finally broke out of his daze. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself, then narrowed his eyes and spoke directly to the Emperor.

“And what exactly do you hope to achieve by telling us this, Emperor?” His tone was sharp now, measured but cautious. “Surely you realize revealing something of this magnitude… this crucial… could be dangerous for your empire.”

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