The air in the debriefing room was thick enough to chew. Seraph stood like a statue of living steel between Jonah and Colonel Boris, her hand a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of her sword. Boris’s cold eyes narrowed, a flash of pure anger breaking through her carefully controlled mask.

“Sergeant,” Boris said, her voice dangerously soft. “You are making a grave mistake. That… *asset*… is a matter of national security.”

“He is *my* asset,” Seraph countered, her voice low and just as dangerous. “And my team’s survival comes first. You and your Bureau can file a complaint. I’m sure it will be reviewed in a few years.”

A muscle in Colonel Boris’s jaw twitched. This was a challenge to her authority, and she knew it.

“The Bureau does not *file complaints*,” she hissed. “We act.”

Jonah felt like a bone being fought over by two starving wolves. They weren’t talking about the Broodmother’s essence anymore; they were talking about him. They saw him as a thing, a resource.

The promise he had made to the dying creator felt a million miles away, lost in a battle of politics and pride. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but what could he say?

*Please don’t turn her soul into a science project?* They wouldn’t listen.

Just as the tension was about to snap, a deep, resonant **HUUUM** filled the room.

It came from the holographic projector. The image of the Headmaster, which had been silent and watchful, seemed to grow in presence, his ancient eyes fixing both women with a gaze of absolute authority.

*”That is enough,”* the Headmaster’s voice boomed, cutting through the standoff like a thunderclap.

Colonel Boris and Seraph both went rigid, their personal battle instantly forgotten. In the presence of the Academy’s supreme leader, they were just soldiers again.

*”Colonel Boris,”* the Headmaster said. *”You are mistaken. The Alpha Broodmother Essence is not merely ‘data’ or ‘loot’ to be cataloged.”*

He turned his holographic gaze to Jonah, and for a moment, Jonah felt as if the old man could see directly into his Beast Space, at the swirling galaxy of power that now resided there.

*”As Jonah reported, the essence was a willing gift,”* the Headmaster continued. *”As a Nexus-type essence, it has not simply been stored. It has fundamentally bonded with Jonah’s own soul. Attempting to remove it would be tantamount to performing psychic surgery on a developing Elite. The potential for catastrophic damage—or the complete destruction of the asset—is almost certain.”*

Boris’s face paled slightly. Destroying a unique asset like Jonah would be a career-ending disaster, and she knew it.

“With all due respect, Headmaster,” she argued, trying to regain her footing, “an asset of this nature cannot be left in the hands of a child. It needs to be studied under controlled conditions.”

*”I agree,”* the Headmaster said, and Boris allowed herself a flicker of triumph. But the Headmaster wasn’t finished.

*”Which is why,”* he continued, his voice taking on a tone of official proclamation, *”I am officially designating the Alpha Broodmother Essence as a ‘Tier-5 Evolving Class Asset.'”*

Jonah blinked. *Did he just make that up?* It sounded like something you’d find in a bad fantasy novel, not a military classification.

But the effect on Boris was immediate. Her triumphant smirk vanished, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief.

*”This classification,” the Headmaster announced, his voice leaving no room for argument, *”places it firmly and exclusively under the Academy’s academic and military authority. It is an integral part of Mr. Jonah’s unique class development. As such, it is untouchable by any outside agency, including the Bureau, without a direct and explicit order from the nation’s supreme leader.”

It was a political checkmate. The Headmaster hadn’t just argued with her; he had used his authority to create a new rule, on the spot, that made her entire argument invalid. He had built a fortress of bureaucracy around Jonah in thirty seconds flat.

For the first time since she had walked in, Colonel Boris looked completely powerless. Her carefully composed expression tightened, the polite mask cracking to reveal the cold fury beneath. She knew she had been outmaneuvered, beaten at her own game.

She gave a stiff, formal bow. “I see. My apologies for the… misunderstanding, Headmaster.” She straightened up, and her cold eyes locked onto Jonah. The look she gave him was no longer one of assessment. It was a promise. “The Bureau will, of course, respect the Academy’s authority in this matter. We will be monitoring Mr. Jonah’s progress with great interest.”

With that veiled threat hanging in the air, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room. The heavy door hissed shut behind her, leaving a profound and heavy silence.

The tension finally broke. Jonah let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Seraph relaxed her hand on her sword, her posture slumping just a fraction of an inch with relief. For the first time since Boris had walked in, Jonah felt like he could breathe.

The Headmaster’s hologram turned to them. “The ASTF has performed a great service to this nation. You have neutralized a threat that could have become a plague. You will all be officially decorated for your courage and exceptional service.”

He paused. “With the immediate threat gone, the task force is no longer required. The ASTF is now on inactive status, effective immediately. The team is disbanded. Sergeant, you are dismissed.”

Seraph gave a crisp salute. “Sir.” She gave Jonah a quick, reassuring look before turning and exiting the room, leaving him alone with the most powerful man in the nation.

The room felt bigger now, and emptier. The Headmaster’s holographic gaze settled on Jonah, and his tone shifted. The grand, commanding voice was gone, replaced by a quieter, more personal one.

“I have given you a shield, boy,” the Headmaster said, his voice a low rumble. “I just spent a significant amount of political capital to protect you and your… promise.”

He leaned forward, his ancient eyes seeming to pierce right through the holographic projection.

“In return, I expect a result that justifies that cost. Do not disappoint me.”

With a soft POP, the hologram winked out, plunging the room into near-total darkness. Jonah stood alone in the silence, the Headmaster’s final words echoing in his mind.

He had his shield. But the weight of the protection felt heavier than any threat. The pressure on him had never been greater.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep