The words ca out conversational, like he was explaining basic mathematics.
Damian’s hands clenched into fists.
"You–"
"Let finish."
Sothing in the Patriarch’s tone made Damian’s words die in his throat.
"Us Patriarchs and the elders currently have no interest in creating conflict with the military or Headmaster Kaiser over so kid."
He held up one finger.
"But if you push too far, if you force our hand..."
A second finger joined the first.
"The military will make stern faces and kill a few of our subordinates... Kaiser will express disappointnt but ultimately step aside because he understands the political realities that govern our world."
A third finger.
"And you, along with everyone connected to you, will simply cease to exist."
The fire crackled between them, orange flas dancing across dead flesh.
"Not as punishnt... Just necessity. The sa way I killed this beast because it threatened students. Nothing personal, just maintaining order."
The Patriarch lowered his hand, his expression still friendly and open.
"Do you understand what I’m telling you?"
Damian’s throat felt tight, his breathing shallow, but he managed to speak.
"You’re... threatening ."
"No no no."
The Patriarch shook his head with genuine seeming regret.
"I’m explaining reality to you... There’s a difference. A threat implies I want sothing specific from you, that I’m trying to coerce your behavior through fear."
He gestured broadly at the forest around them.
"This is just an old man helping a young one understand the world he’s walking through. The rules that exist whether you acknowledge them or not."
His smile returned.
"Here’s the interesting part... I’m not here to stop you. Your actions serve as a catalyst. The world needs strong soldiers who understand genuine struggle, not broken commoners who see themselves as inferior, not arrogant nobles who underestimate everyone."
He leaned forward slightly.
"What you’re doing, the changes you’re forcing... It’s making people stronger and making them think."
The Patriarch’s orange eyes glead in the firelight.
"So continue your work... Your organization, your reforms, your noble ideals."
A pause.
"But reduce your direct aggression against the Imperials themselves. Make your changes through the systems rather than trying to tear them down."
He spread his hands.
"That’s the balance you need to find. Change the world without making us destroy you for it... Be useful."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by crackling flas.
Damian’s mind churned.
"Why are you telling this?"
"Ah, good question!"
The Patriarch’s smile widened with genuine pleasure.
"The only reason I bothered showing up here personally rather than sending so subordinate to deliver warnings was because you helped get rid of a traitor."
He gestured at Damian casually.
"Jormund Royce... The man who worked with assassins, who betrayed his blood for money."
Recognition flashed across Damian’s face.
The Patriarch’s expression went cold for just a mont, the friendly mask slipping to reveal sothing ancient and terrible underneath.
"Jormund was my grandson."
His voice stayed level, but the temperature dropped noticeably.
"He violated everything our family stands for."
The cold vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"You killed him... Saved us the embarrassnt of executing our own blood publicly."
He stood up in one fluid motion.
"So I’m giving you this conversation... Consider it paynt."
Damian pushed himself to his feet, his body still trembling slightly from the lingering pressure.
The question had been sitting in his mind for a long ti now, months of observations and patterns that didn’t quite make sense.
"Why?"
The Patriarch turned, orange eyebrows raised slightly.
"Why what?"
"The way Nobles treat commoners."
Damian’s voice ca out quieter than he’d intended.
"I’ve been watching it for months now. The systematic suppression, the barriers, the way they keep people down... It feels too extre."
He looked at the Patriarch directly.
"You’re the sa species, the sa humanity you claim to protect, so why go that far? Why not just... maintain hierarchy without crushing them completely?"
His hands stayed at his sides.
"What’s the point of it all?"
The Patriarch looked at him for a long mont.
His expression shifted, sothing flickering across his face that might have been surprise at the question’s framing.
Then sothing else settled into his features.
Everything changed.
The warmth vanished from the air. The friendly deanor evaporated like morning mist.
The Patriarch’s orange eyes began to glow, actual flas kindling in their depths, and the presence he’d been suppressing crashed down on Damian like a collapsing mountain.
Thump...thump
Damian’s knees buckled imdiately.
He hit the ground hard, his hands barely catching himself, his heart hamring against his ribs with such force that each beat hurt.
’Can’t breathe–’
The weight pressing down on him wasn’t just Aura or power. It was sothing deeper, sothing that reached into his chest and squeezed around his heart with fingers made of absolute authority.
The Patriarch looked down at him.
And for the first ti, Damian saw what lay beneath the mask.
Sothing old.
Sothing that had watched civilizations rise and fall.
Sothing that had stopped believing in humanity a long ti ago.
"Humans are very ungrateful by nature."
The Patriarch’s voice ca from directly above him now, each word carrying weight that made Damian’s bones ache.
He looked up at the sky, his gaze distant.
"When the portals first opened and the world was ending... We were called heroes."
His voice grew quieter but sohow more intense.
"We threw ourselves at every breach, every disaster. Gave everything to keep civilization from collapsing."
A pause, weighted with sothing that might have been pain or rage.
"Friends lost their families protecting cities full of people who never knew their nas."
Orange flas flickered around his form.
"We gave everything."
He looked back down at Damian.
"And do you know what happened after? After we stabilized the portals and built the barriers?"
His expression went cold.
"They forgot... Stopped seeing our sacrifice as heroic... Started seeing it as an obligation... As sothing we owed them."
The flas grew brighter.
"Expected us to risk everything whenever danger appeared, called us selfish when we tried to rest, called us tyrants when we made rules about who got saved first."
The Patriarch’s voice carried centuries of resentnt.
"So we stopped trying to save people who didn’t want to be saved."
His smile returned, carved into his face like sothing sharp.
"We built a world where strength matters... Where power is earned, not given."
The pressure on Damian eased slightly.
"You ask why we suppress commoners? We just don’t elevate them beyond what they earn... That’s all."
He turned away, looking at the burning beast.
"Your reforms want to give everyone equal opportunity..."
His voice dropped.
"But equality breeds complacency, complacency breeds weakness and weakness gets people killed."
"..."
Silence fell between them.
The Patriarch took a step forward.
Suddenly the weight vanished completely.
Damian could breathe again, his lungs pulling in air that felt too thin after being crushed.
The Patriarch looked at him, his orange eyes tracking across Damian’s face with an intensity that felt invasive.
Then his gaze stopped as it fixed on Damian’s hair.
"Your hair."
The Patriarch’s voice changed, losing so of that friendly casualness, becoming sothing quieter and harder to read.
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