In any other place, among any other race, that title alone would be enough to inspire awe. A being destined to stand above countless others.
But here, among entities who had brushed against Rank Four calamities and survived, the weight of the words was different.
The Khar'veth leader clicked his tongue. "That's a pity."
The Virellion said nothing, but her gaze lingered on Michael longer than before.
Even the elf felt it.
A faint sense of regret stirred within her.
A holy child reduced before his time was wasteful. Inefficient. Such existences were rare even among elves.
But that feeling passed quickly.
An ordinary genius was still valuable to most races.
Just not to hers.
Her expression returned to indifference.
"If he survives," she said, turning away, "he will still be strong."
Strong enough to matter.
But not strong enough to be worth concern.
The Khar'veth leader stared at the unconscious youth for a long moment, jaw tight, then clicked his tongue again.
