The uproar in the Council chamber hadn't settled since Jade's last words. His calm defiance still clung to the air like a frost, leaving nobles, merchants, and guild representatives whispering in urgent panic. The silence that followed felt brittle, as if one more word would shatter it into chaos.
That word came from a senior Alchemist Guild elder, his robes a deep green stitched with golden filigree. His voice rang sharp across the chamber:
"Do you not see what stands before you? That display—those chains of ice, that crushing aura—no Beta child could do such a thing! This is the recklessness of an unregistered Alpha, one that hides in our city, building power in the shadows!"
The accusation slammed into the hall. Murmurs flared instantly. Alpha? The word carried weight. Alphas were power. Alphas were dominance. If a rogue Alpha child was left unchecked, it threatened not just the Guild's monopoly, but the very balance of Nexarion's fragile city politics.
Another guildsman piled on, his voice trembling with both outrage and fear.
"He plays at humility, sells his potions cheaply to win the slums, but what is his true aim? What Alpha hides their strength unless to deceive? You've all seen how the people chant his name—he's gathering them like a warlord in waiting!"
The chamber split in two currents:
The Guild and its allies fanning the flames, painting Jade as a dangerous Alpha-in-disguise, a threat to order.
The commoners in the gallery surging to their feet, voices crashing in protest. "He saved our children!" "He healed my wife when the Guild turned us away!" "Shame on you! Jade asks for nothing but fair trade!"
The guards along the walls shifted uneasily, their hands twitching toward weapons—not at Jade, but at the crowd that threatened to overwhelm the hall.
A Councilor in violet robes rose, face pale.
"If he is Alpha, then the law is clear. All awakened Alphas must register under the Guilds or the Military—"
"—and so the Guild seeks to collar him!" someone from the crowd shouted, and the chamber boiled again.
Through it all, Jade remained utterly still. His silvery-blue hair caught the glow of the chamber lamps, his dual irises glimmering faintly—just enough for those close enough to feel that chill of wrongness, that he was not like other children. He let the accusations swirl unchecked, his silence sharper than any rebuttal.
When at last he spoke, his voice was soft but it cut the air like a blade.
"If I were truly the monster you fear… do you think you'd still be standing here, alive, to slander me?"
The words dropped like a stone into the storm. Silence followed, more terrifying than any shout. The Guild elders stiffened, lips pressed thin, eyes darting toward Councilor Draven for support. Draven's mouth curved almost imperceptibly—a predator's smile. He saw the opening, and he would drive the knife deeper.
But before he could rise, the Council itself fractured—some crying for Jade's registration, others shouting that to punish him would ignite the slums. And in the gallery above, the chant began again, low but rising, beating like a drum:
"Jade! Jade! Jade!"
Councilor Draven rose slowly, as if the chamber were his stage and the chaos merely the music to his stride. His crimson sash glimmered in the light, and his sharp features softened into a mask of concern. But Jade caught the gleam in his eyes — the satisfaction of a predator who smelled blood in the water.
"Order," Draven intoned, his voice rich and commanding. The chamber quieted — not out of respect, but because every soul felt the weight of his authority. "What we have witnessed is no mere accident. This child — Jade — has demonstrated power beyond his claimed station. Whether he is Alpha or something else entirely, his existence unbound poses risk to this city."
A low ripple moved through the Council. Risk. In political language, that word was poison — and weapon.
Draven pressed on.
"Think, fellow Councilors. Already the Guilds bleed credits as he undermines their work with cheap concoctions. Already the people rally to his name as though he were some savior. And now, we learn he may not even be the Beta he pretends to be. What will follow if we do nothing? Rebellion in the streets. An Alpha warlord rising in our slums."
The Guild elders nodded vigorously, their faces twisted with vindication.
But then came a different voice — smooth, deliberate. From the far end of the chamber, Governor Kael finally stirred. The Dominant Alpha's presence filled the hall without a word, his broad frame draped in black and silver, eyes like sharpened steel. He had been silent all this time, watching, calculating.
And when he spoke, his voice carried the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed.
"Enough."
The single word hushed the chamber more than Draven's whole speech.
Governor Kael's gaze slid to Jade. For the first time, he studied the boy not as a curiosity, but as a factor in the equation of power. Then he turned his gaze on the Guild.
"This city stands because we balance order with survival. You speak of risk — yet this child's brews saved hundreds when your Guild failed them. You speak of rebellion — yet it is your greed that drove the people to his door. Shall we punish competence because it shames you?"
The words struck like hammer blows. The Guild elders flushed red with humiliation. Draven's smile only widened, serpent-like, because he had anticipated this too.
Draven bowed his head slightly, feigning deference.
"Governor, your wisdom is as ever… unmatched. But I must remind the Council: unregistered power cannot be left unchecked. If this child is innocent, let him submit to Guild examination. Let him prove his station and swear his loyalty to Nexus."
The trap snapped shut. Submission to the Guild. A leash around Jade's neck, disguised as law. The elders murmured approval. The crowd hissed and jeered. And Jade — standing alone in the center of it all — felt every eye upon him, waiting to see if the prodigy would kneel or if the storm would break.
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Dozens of eyes pressed down on Jade, hungry to see whether he would bow.
The boy tilted his head, blindfold shifting as silvery-blue strands slid across his cheek. Then he smiled — faint, razor-sharp.
"Submit?" His voice was calm, almost too soft for the echoing chamber. "You mean… surrender my freedom into the hands of those who would rather bleed this city dry than heal it?"
Murmurs rippled through the gallery.
Jade raised a small hand, fingers curling slightly. Mana hummed in the air, faint frost blossoming along the marble floor beneath him. Not an attack — a reminder. A statement. His presence shifted the atmosphere, subtle and unyielding.
"I owe the Guild nothing," Jade continued. "It was not the Guild that treated the sick when fever struck the docks. It was not the Guild that sold antidotes at fair price when your coffers demanded thrice the cost."
The chamber went utterly still.
"I did those things," Jade said, each word deliberate. "Not for credits. Not for power. But because no one else would. And you dare stand here, demanding that I swear loyalty to the very corruption I exposed?"
His words cut deeper than ice. People in the gallery — merchants, dockhands, even low-tier guards — stirred, voices rising. "He's right." "We'd be dead without him." "The Guild never lifted a finger for us!"
Draven's eyes narrowed, his smile twitching with strain.
Jade took one step forward, frost following like a shadow. "You want me to submit? Then bring your chains openly, and let all of Nexus see who truly serves themselves and who serves the city. But I will not kneel. Not now. Not ever."
The chamber erupted.
Guild elders leapt to their feet, shouting accusations. The crowd roared back, half in outrage, half in fierce approval. The marble floor cracked under the frost spreading from Jade's feet, not in violence, but in proof — proof of his will, his power, and his refusal to bend.
Governor Kael leaned back in his chair, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. For the first time, Jade saw something in the man's expression that wasn't disdain — but interest.
And Draven? His fingers tightened on the rail before him. The boy had slipped the noose and turned it into a rallying cry. The trap had not snapped shut — it had been torn apart in front of the whole city.
Jade's mismatched irises locked onto them, underneath his blindfold.
"I will not be your pawn," he said, and turned his back on the council.
The crowd parted like water as he walked out, Niamh and Gorvoth flanking him. Behind them, the chamber dissolved into chaos—shouts, arguments, panic clawing at the walls.
But outside, in the streets of Nexus City, one truth spread like wildfire:
The boy alchemist had defied the Guild, defied the council, and walked away untouchable.
...
The chamber doors boomed open.
Jade stepped into the light of Nexus, frost still whispering at his heels.
Outside, the city had already fractured.
— "He defied them!" a dockhand shouted, voice raw with awe.
— "Arrogant brat, he'll drag us all down!" a Guild scribe hissed to his companion.
— "Did you see the frost? Gods, no Alpha his age should wield that—"
— "He's not the Guild's, that's all that matters. He's ours."
The crowd split like torn cloth, half surging forward as if to shield him, half retreating in suspicion.
Above, holo-feeds replayed his words across the city in real time: I will not kneel. Not now. Not ever.
Council couriers ran, carrying transcripts to every faction leader. Guild operatives whispered frantically into comm-beads. In the slums, Ash Rats huddled tighter, Silent Ravens sharpened their knives, and mercenary bands reconsidered their contracts.
Jade walked through the noise untouched, blindfold glowing faintly as his dual irises pressed against the world unseen.
Behind him, Governor Kael watched from the steps of the Spire, unreadable. Draven lingered too, jaw set, already calculating his countermove.
The city's storm had broken open.
And Jade had become its lightning rod.