Chapter 198: The Chief Master Of The Association’s Anger (2)

"Think carefully, Lloyd."

The calm voice came from the seat beside him.

Lloyd’s jaw ticked as he glared at Rommel Velazco, the Deputy Chief of the Association.

"Both hands are being held out to you," Rommel continued, his voice remaining calm despite the tension in the room. "And neither of them is being offered out of kindness. The Federation or the Empire. Eventually, you will have to decide whose hand you’re going to take, and that decision will have to come soon."

Lloyd studied him for several seconds.

He and Rommel had stood on opposite sides of nearly every major argument inside the Association for decades. They had known each other long before either of them had reached their current positions, back when they were young enough to believe being right mattered more than being patient. ⅇ𝒃𝚗ℴ

That distance had only grown wider after the Higher Council placed the title of Chief Master on Lloyd’s shoulders instead of Rommel’s.

He slowly drew a breath through his nose, forcing the cold building up inside his chest back under control until the frost beneath his hand finally stopped spreading.

He was about to answer when—

Bang!

The chamber doors slammed against the walls.

Everyone immediately turned toward the noise and saw a tall figure stride through the entrance, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rigid.

It was Ares Nico.

He looked disheveled, and his breathing was hurried, as though he had run a marathon before coming here.

A leader sitting closest to the door shot to his feet, his face flushing with anger. "Get out this instant. You have no authority to step in here, Lieutenant!"

Ares didn’t answer.

The Lieutenant who normally filled every room with his chatter and easy grin walked straight past him, his boots striking the floor with unusual heaviness.

There was something wrong, and Lloyd noticed it immediately. Ares wasn’t even pretending to be his usual self.

Two guards rushed in behind him, reaching for his arms, but Lloyd lifted one hand.

The guards stopped.

Ares continued toward the command console without saying anything, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

Lloyd watched him carefully. He had seen Ares countless times in the tower, usually following Zeke around with an irritating amount of enthusiasm. The man could talk enough for three people, and his loyalty toward Zeke had always impressed Lloyd.

Yet, Lloyd had never known him to disregard an order without reason. Whatever had driven him to storm into a meeting of the Association’s highest leaders had to be serious.

Ares reached the console and placed one hand against it.

Lloyd’s gaze narrowed.

"Ares."

The young Lieutenant finally turned his head.

For a moment, their eyes met.

Then, Ares turned back toward the console.

"I need to show you something."

One of the leaders immediately protested. "This is against protocol. You can’t simply barge into this meeting and—"

"Let him."

Lloyd’s voice silenced him.

Ares entered his clearance into the console, and the holographic display flickered.

The handwritten requests disappeared, and the news broadcast appeared in their place.

Lloyd’s expression changed.

The screen showed crowds gathered outside a public square, their voices overlapping as they demanded answers from the Association. Most of them were expressing their anger and fear.

All of them demanded that someone step forward and help their loved ones or themselves escape the nightmare caused by contaminated zones.

The reporter continued speaking over the noise, explaining that public pressure had continued to grow after news of the Admiral’s condition spread.

The question being repeated everywhere was simple.

Who would protect them if Admiral Valaerion never woke up?

Lloyd’s fingers tightened against the table. He had already expected this to happen, but not this fast.

Then the broadcast changed.

A dark banner slid across the bottom of the screen.

The headline appeared in bold red letters.

[Eyewitness claims Admiral Valaerion abandoned an S-rank Guide to her death during his recent mission. Is this an accident or Karma?]

The instant those words appeared on the screen, no one uttered a word or dared to move. ℯ𝓵.

Lloyd stared at the words.

For several seconds, he couldn’t hear anything else.

Then the table beneath his hand trembled.

One of the remaining pieces of glass slid across the wet stone and struck another shard, producing a faint, sharp sound.

The chairs began shaking.

Several leaders gripped the arms of their seats as the movement intensified. Yet, no one dared to stand or flee from the chamber.

The floor beneath their feet also began to tremble. They knew what that could mean. The entire Association Tower was shaking.

A low groan traveled through the chamber as the structure trembled from its foundations upward. The long windows hummed inside their frames, while frost rapidly climbed the walls and spread across the edges of the screens.

Rommel’s fingers finally separated from their steepled position and gripped the armrests.

"Lloyd..."

Lloyd didn’t hear him.

His eyes had become bloodshot, the veins standing sharply against the whites as his suppressed power continued spilling into the room. Cold air gathered around him, and each breath left his mouth as a thick cloud.

His son had nearly died inside a contaminated zone. And the Association had spent every available resource trying to save him.

And now someone had decided to turn that tragedy into a public accusation.

Lloyd knew his son. Zeke would rather die than leave someone behind in a contaminated zone. The thought of anyone suggesting otherwise made something inside him snap.

When he finally spoke, his voice tore through the chamber.

"Whoever created that news..."

His fist tightened against the table as the temperature plunged even more.

"Find them."

His voice dropped into a ragged growl.

"I want them standing in front of me this instant!"

Beneath the crystal canopy, a white table had been arranged in the garden of the Novalis family mansion.

Delicate porcelain cups rested beside tiered stands filled with pastries, while the warm laughter of several girls drifted over the neatly trimmed hedges.

Irene sat among them with her teacup held between both hands.

She smiled whenever someone spoke to her and gave small responses at the appropriate moments, so that she appeared every bit the gentle and considerate young lady everyone expected her to be.

Yet, she hadn’t tasted her tea in several minutes.

Her gaze remained lowered toward the surface of the pale liquid as her thoughts wandered elsewhere.