Astraea remained standing long after Kaliburz vanished toward the first floor. The War Council chamber still carried the echoes of footsteps and the lingering aura of their earlier discussion; strategic screens dimmed to a quiet glow, chess pieces left scattered across the table. She lowered her head, her posture still bent from the bow she had given, and then sank silently to her knees—not out of fear, but because she was threading possibilities together within her mind.
Seraphelum observed her fellow Ultivate from the side. Her face was expressionless, yet her gaze was sharp and unyielding.
"You're still uncertain," she spoke softly—not as an accusation, but as one capturing a moment in time.
Astraea did not answer right away. Constellations still wound through her thoughts, each line of fate shifting whenever struck by the weight of human decision. Slowly, she raised her head.
"It's not doubt about Kaliburz's safety," she finally said. "I know Lia and DariDariDari are on the first floor, and Orion often descends. They can protect him. That isn't what unsettles me."
Seraphelum brushed away a wisp of mist in the air, as if tidying the fabric of an hourglass.
"Then what unsettles you?"
Astraea's eyes drifted to the strategy table, toward the pieces that represented humans and the land of Eryndor.
"If the Sovereign chooses to descend into the human world without us—the Ultivates—then that shows something. He is limiting our roles. Placing us within boundaries. I don't know the full intent, but it points to a greater design."
Seraphelum nodded slowly.
"He did assign us roles. I heard his command: we guard, we oversee, we guide the flow of fate. But that doesn't stop him from moving. He chose to be accompanied by the Asterion, not us. That is… strategic."
Astraea closed her eyes for a moment.
"Strategic—or something far more ambitious? He has never hidden his intent from me. He never declares it outright, but the meaning is always there. He doesn't want Ourolith to be only a tower feared by the world. He wants Ourolith to be the center. Of influence. Of power. No absolute ruler exists without ambition."
Seraphelum stroked the air as though feeling the current of time.
"If he truly seeks conquest, then Eryndor is only the beginning. We're talking about the world… perhaps even the cosmos, if needed. And the way he does so will decide the fate of all who live here."
Light from the dim screens traced Astraea's features as she opened her eyes again.
"If his purpose is to conquer through violence alone, through blood and ruin, then Ourolith will stand as nothing more than a monument to annihilation. That is not the path Kaliburz has chosen—I am certain. He does not want Ourolith to be branded a tower of demons."
Seraphelum let out a quiet breath.
"Diplomacy, then. A plan to subjugate through reverence and awe. A gentler hand. But is that enough? Aurethys already holds entities that humanity regards as divine. Local gods who receive worship. If the Sovereign intends to rise above them… what path exists for that?"
Astraea weighed the words.
"He seeks recognition. Not a mountain of corpses. I cannot imagine him wishing to be remembered as a tyrant who rules over the dead. If we destroy the followers of the local gods, who then would remain to acknowledge him? Destruction alone is not legitimacy."
Seraphelum's eyes gleamed.
"Yet consider this: those who call themselves gods—and the shadows that manipulate humanity for their own power—do they deserve to reign above Ourolith? We, as guardians of the Tower's sanity, know the truth. The 'gods' of Aurethys are not always noble. Many cults exploit humanity's ancient fears. If the Sovereign wishes to forge a new order, erasing those influences may be one option."
Astraea lifted her shoulders slightly and whispered,
"You always see the decisive solution, Seraphelum. Destroy, reset. But remember: we are not instruments of punishment. We are guardians of balance. To erase their followers is to extinguish cultures, lives that deserve protection. They are not mere pawns. They are human. A wise ruler earns devotion not through force, but through something deeper."
Seraphelum turned her gaze toward the throne room's vast window, where countless stars spilled across the void.
"I don't want to see the Sovereign standing atop a mountain of corpses. No one does. But if those local gods incite wars, if they consume human lives for rituals—what then? Leaving Ourolith idle to watch the world collapse isn't an option either."
Astraea absorbed the weight of the words.
"You're suggesting a cleansing regime." Her tone was calm, steady. "You know how I see time: I can prune branches, close off paths that corrode. But to enforce mass annihilation without even attempting diplomacy… that strips Ourolith of what makes it more than a weapon."
Seraphelum closed her eyes briefly.
"Kaliburz may already have a middle path in mind: begin with diplomacy, extend influence by example. Let the system adapt. We weave influence from below. But if threats rise—if humanity stands at the brink of extinction by cults or entities—we must be ready to act. Ready to excise the rot without destroying the body."
Astraea exhaled slowly, then smiled faintly.
"Then we should summon all the Ultivates immediately. There's no point in arguing any longer. If the Sovereign has entrusted this to me, we must all discuss the broad strategy together."
Seraphelum inclined her head ever so slightly. "Inexars," she called to the rigid guardians posted by the door. "Summon every Ultivate to this chamber."
The Inexars bowed and slipped out into the corridor.
Moments later, the great doors of the War Council Hall swung open. One by one, enormous, beautiful, and terrible figures entered. Lysaris moved with the geometry of folded space; Calyssa arrived trailing layered refrains; Noctyra shrouded herself in a pall of night; Izhil's hollow chest gaped like a void; Zhoith's flesh hung in decay; Ugiroth's boots struck the floor with slow, grinding weight; and Ozuthal stood like a cracked shield.
Calyssa snorted the moment she stepped in. "Really… you called me while I was singing in my domain? Couldn't you wait until I finished my last chorus?"
Ozuthal stared at her, expression flat. "Quiet. What is it that requires all of us?"
Ugiroth raised a stone-brow. "And why are you standing center-stage, Astraea? You usually sit aside and read the constellations. Since when are you the mediator?"
Seraphelum stepped forward. "Because the Sovereign commanded it. He chose Astraea to organize… the conquest of this world."
The words landed hard. The hall fell into a hush.
Noctyra—her voice like drifting mist—whispered, "Conquest… the world?"
Calyssa covered her mouth with a hand. "What? Seriously? I thought this was merely outreach. Oh—finally, something large!"
Ugiroth nodded slowly. "It's expected. A Sovereign of that caliber won't be content just sitting on a tower."
Zhoith let out a dry snort; his voice cracked like old bone. "Heh. Whatever stands in the way, we can wipe it out. Simple. No long speeches required."
Astraea raised a hand, trying to draw calm. "Listen. The Sovereign doesn't intend to conquer by warfare. He doesn't want Ourolith to be seen as a demon-tower."
Lysaris folded her arms; her star-embroidered cloak folded in precise layers. "Reasonable. If we destroy everything, only ruins remain. What would bow to us then besides rubble?"
Ozuthal regarded the notion with blunt practicality. "But conquering humans needn't be complicated. Smash one great city and the rest will kneel."
Zhoith chuckled. "Hahaha… humans are like insects. One crushing, done."
No one moved to refute them. Even Astraea murmured, "They are insects… but—"
The debate heated. Lysaris argued for a diplomacy of folded space, Ozuthal insisted on scorched-earth efficiency, and Calyssa tried to weave both ideas together while mimicking mock-orchestral diplomacy.
Then—
Braaak!
The War Council door flew open. Every head turned.
Kurumi swept in with a buoyant step, her dress swinging. Luna and Mila were tucked in her arms like two small dolls. "Hey? What's this? Why are all the Ultivates gathered here without me?"
Every Ultivate dropped to a knee in a single, instant chorus. "Sovereign DollMaker."
Kurumi laughed—a bright, airy sound. "Hahaha! Don't be so stiff. Stand up. I don't like seeing you all so tense."
Izhil, voice echoing from his hollow chest, bowed. "We were discussing diplomacy with the insects."
Mila, still cradled, looked up sincerely. "Insects? You mean—"
Kurumi blinked. "Eeeehhh? Diplomacy and… insects?" She wrinkled her nose. "Disgusting. I hate insects! Why not just exterminate them? Right, Mila?"
"Uh… yeah? If the Sovereign hates insects… maybe we should…" Mila stammered.
Silence fell—complete enough that even the hum of the room's runes seemed to pause. No one dared answer immediately.
Kurumi clapped once. "You lot are far too infected by Akira's diplomacy obsession. It all sounds so troublesome. I'd rather not be involved. Let's go visit Velda or Elynda on the lower levels instead. Hahaha!"
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left, carrying Luna and Mila like twin dolls. The heavy doors closed behind her.
A long stillness spread through the hall.
Ozuthal lifted his head slowly. "So… the Sovereign dislikes insects."
Astraea looked after the closed doors, still puzzled. "She said so… she even looked disgusted."
Zhoith snorted again. "Good. Then extinguishing humanity is the obvious solution."
Ugiroth inclined his heavy head. "Simple and efficient."
Lysaris rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Yet Kaliburz prefers diplomacy. Perhaps we should combine approaches—diplomacy when required, eradication if DollMaker demands it."
Calyssa giggled. "So we're an orchestra: one movement for diplomacy, another for destruction. And the conductor is our Sovereign."
Astraea pressed her fingers to her temple. "I think… this is a misunderstanding. But who among us would dare correct DollMaker's words?"
Silence answered her.
Finally, Seraphelum spoke in a flat tone. "So: Kaliburz desires conquest by diplomacy. DollMaker, conversely, detests insects. Therefore—our compromise: implement diplomacy as Kaliburz commands, and if complications arise, we have DollMaker's consent to 'cleanse' as needed."
Lysaris's smile returned, a crooked thing behind her starry robe. "A pragmatic compromise."
Ozuthal grinned. "At last, clarity. I can't wait to destroy a few 'insects.'"
Zhoith muttered, his voice like splitting timber. "Heh. If even the Sovereign despises them, who would object?"
Astraea exhaled slowly. "Very well. We will pursue two tracks. Kaliburz's diplomacy, and DollMaker's eradication—kept as an option. Hopefully the two paths won't collide."