Chapter 313

Zaeryn stopped before the raised council bench. The Royal Guards remained stationed at the chamber doors, leaving him alone beneath the scrutiny of the Imperial Council.

The atmosphere shifted. Several councilwomen straightened in their seats, measuring his height, his broad frame, and his posture. The Sector Seven citadel had sent extensive recordings and dossiers, but reports never conveyed physical presence.

"The preliminary footage failed to capture his size," one councilwoman murmured.

"Or his composure," another added.

Zaeryn kept his eyes forward. Lowering his gaze would look like guilt, but staring anyone down would be taken as defiance. Keeping his posture still and neutral gave them nothing to seize on.

Beside Athea sat another woman Zaeryn did not recognize. He had never met her before and had no idea who she was, although her position directly beside Athea suggested that she held considerably more authority than most of the women seated along the bench. The unfamiliar woman examined him as openly as the other councilwomen, her gaze moving slowly across his face, shoulders, and posture before narrowing with guarded suspicion.

Nothing in her expression suggested that she regarded him with anything other than professional suspicion.

Merane glanced toward the unfamiliar woman, evidently taking note of her reaction, before returning her attention to Zaeryn. Her scrutiny gave Merane no reason to believe the woman regarded him as anything more than an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous anomaly.

Athea spoke first.

"Mr. Noctis. Do you understand why you are here?" Athea asked.

"Yes, Your Highness," Zaeryn said. "You want to confirm that I can wield Vitae, and you want to decide if that makes me dangerous."

A murmur broke across the bench. He had skipped the diplomatic deference and named the blade hanging over his neck.

The unfamiliar woman beside Athea did not soften. "An accurate summary," she said. "But recognizing why this Council considers you dangerous does not make you less dangerous."

"I understand," Zaeryn replied.

Valerie leaned forward, softening the tension with a warm smile.

"Before we proceed, Zaeryn, understand that you are not on trial," Valerie said. "There are no formal charges. The Council merely requires absolute honesty. If a question is unclear, ask. If you do not know the answer, say so."

It was the classic soft opening. Offer reassurance so the subject drops his guard and volunteers more than he should.

"I can do that," Zaeryn replied.

He was not as nervous as he had expected. Unlike the Sector Seven council, the women in this room did not look at him with open hostility. They appeared neutral, calculating, and professional.

"Good," Valerie said.

Athea did not bother with comfort.

"The Council has reviewed Sector Seven’s files, but written testimony cannot substitute for direct observation. Demonstrate your Vitae," Athea said.

Zaeryn raised his right hand and opened his palm.

A sphere of golden radiance formed above his skin. The light reflected off the walls and cast long shadows across the floor. Rumors were cheap and files could be forged, but Vitae burning above a male palm was impossible to explain away.

He altered the structure. The sphere flattened into a circular shield, ripples of liquid gold rolling across the surface to prove defensive stability. Then he pulled the energy inward, condensing it into a short, narrow blade.

The second the weapon took shape, Zaeryn recognized the tactical mistake. He was standing in front of an anxious ruling council trying to prove he was not a lethal anomaly. Conjuring a weapon was the worst possible visual for someone arguing peace.

"That is sufficient," Athea said.

Zaeryn closed his fingers. The golden blade shattered into drifting light and vanished before touching the floor.

General Eva Rostova was the first to speak.

"Vitae Weaving," Rostova stated. "According to Sector Seven records, that signature belongs to Dr. Daphne Virellith. Is that correct?"

"That’s right," Zaeryn said.

"And your mimicry is not superficial," Rostova continued, checking her terminal. "You possess the complete ability and develop it independently. Along with Hyper-Cognition, Kinetic Acceleration, Kinetic Repulsion, Concussive Blast, Kinetic Rupture, and Sensory Jolt. Seven distinct disciplines acquired from women of different classifications."

"Yes," Zaeryn said.

Rostova’s strict expression showed open interest.

"You aren’t merely a male capable of channeling energy, Mr. Noctis. You are an escalating arsenal," Rostova said.

"An arsenal with no known limit and no established allegiance," the unfamiliar woman beside Athea added. "That is why this Council cannot treat his existence as a curiosity."

Zaeryn offered no reaction to the woman’s words.

And a compliment from an imperial council member during an interrogation was usually just an accusation wrapped in professional respect.

A councilwoman at the far end of the bench raised her voice. "Are we certain his biology is natural?" the councilwoman asked. "A concealed laboratory program would neatly explain every abnormality we are looking at."

Zaeryn knew where that logic led. If they classified him as an artificial biological construct rather than a naturally born citizen, the protections surrounding his person could become dangerously uncertain. Containment, invasive testing and indefinite detention would suddenly become much easier to justify.

"The genetic scans showed no synthetic markers or cellular grafts," another councilwoman pointed out.

"Those findings were produced by Dr. Virellith’s team in Sector Seven," the first councilwoman countered. "Dr. Stellan is qualified to assess whether a procedure of that scale could leave no detectable alterations. I want her independent professional opinion."

Athea looked past the bench.

"Dr. Stellan?" Athea asked.

Sage rose from her seat. "I didn’t participate in Mr. Noctis’s examinations, so I can’t independently authenticate the scans," Sage said. "But if the reported findings are accurate, artificial modification isn’t a credible explanation. Engineering a functioning Vitae core into a male would alter every major organ system and leave extensive evidence throughout his body."

She met Athea’s gaze squarely.

"A male body affected by M-degradation would also not be able to survive a procedure of that magnitude," Sage continued. "Nothing in the medical report supports the claim that he was manufactured."

"Can you rule out artificial modification with absolute medical certainty?" Athea asked.

"No responsible scientist can rule out an unknown process with absolute certainty," Sage replied. "I can state that the theory is unsupported and incompatible with every known method."

Athea signaled for Sage to sit, then turned her focus back to Zaeryn.

"When did your abilities first manifest?" Athea asked.

"Several weeks ago," Zaeryn answered. "I noticed them after an encounter with someone infected by the Fade."

"The report states you’re immune to the Fade," Councilor Merane pointed out.

"That’s right," Zaeryn replied.

"And your mimicry?" Merane asked.

"That manifested shortly afterward," Zaeryn answered.

Merane studied him from her place on the bench.

"Have you ever lost control of your abilities?" Merane asked.

"I’ve pushed myself too hard during training and produced more force than I intended," Zaeryn answered. "But I’ve never released Vitae by accident, and I’ve never attacked someone because I lost control."

"We will verify that," Merane said.

"I expected you would," Zaeryn replied.

A few eyebrows rose at his answer, but Merane appeared more interested than offended.

"Can you acquire an ability without the woman’s knowledge or consent?" another councilwoman asked.

Zaeryn considered the wording before answering.

"The adaptation can happen without her knowing exactly what my body is doing," Zaeryn said. "But it requires a genuine bond. I can’t touch a stranger and take her ability, and I can’t force the connection to form."

The unfamiliar woman beside Athea leaned forward slightly.

"You’ve explained why the bond can’t be forced," she said. "You haven’t answered whether the woman knowingly agrees to the transfer."

"During the first transfers, none of us knew it was happening," Zaeryn replied.

"Then answer based on what you know now," she said.

"She might not know beforehand," Zaeryn admitted. "But the transfer doesn’t weaken her or take the ability away from her."

"That doesn’t make her knowledge irrelevant," she said.

"No," Zaeryn replied. "It doesn’t."

"Has any donor suffered measurable harm?" the councilwoman asked.

"No," Zaeryn replied. "Her ability stays the same."

"Dr. Virellith’s examinations in Sector Seven confirmed that point," Valerie added, checking the display before her. "None of the women involved showed any drop in Vitae capacity, control, or physical condition."

"How many abilities do you currently possess?" Merane asked.

"Seven," Zaeryn answered.

"Is there an upper limit?" Rostova asked.

"Not that we’ve found," Zaeryn replied.

Rostova’s fingers stopped against the surface of her console.

"Could you acquire the ability of a Tier One?" she asked.

"I don’t know," Zaeryn said. "I haven’t had the chance to find out."

The answer visibly troubled several members of the Council.

Zaeryn understood why. The abilities he already possessed made him dangerous by ordinary standards. If his mimicry worked on a Tier One, the scale of what he might become was impossible to predict.

Merane lowered her display.

"You acquired seven abilities within several weeks, and you admit no upper limit has been discovered. Why are you continuing to accumulate them?" Merane asked.

Before Zaeryn could answer, Athea spoke.

"Councilor Merane’s concern is justified," Athea said. "Your first acquisition may have been unexpected, Mr. Noctis, but the same cannot be said indefinitely. Are you deliberately seeking relationships with women whose abilities you consider valuable?"

There was no safe answer. Denying that power influenced his decisions would sound dishonest. Admitting he evaluated the women around him would make him look like a calculating predator.

"I didn’t know what would happen when I formed my first bond," Zaeryn said.

"Several abilities manifested without me choosing them, and more than one can come from the same person. Seven abilities doesn’t mean I went hunting for seven women."

The unfamiliar woman beside Athea regarded him without blinking.

"Seven abilities may not mean seven women," she said. "But now that you understand the process, will a woman’s power influence whether you pursue her?"

Zaeryn held her gaze. Nothing in the woman’s expression suggested that she was offering him an easy escape.

"It might," Zaeryn admitted. "Pretending otherwise would be a lie. But it would never be the only reason."

"It could still be one of them," she said.

"Yes," Zaeryn replied. "It could."

"Then you acknowledge that personal power may influence the relationships you pursue," Athea said.

"Influence isn’t control," Zaeryn replied. "Once the bond exists, the adaptation happens on its own."

"You can control whether you form those bonds," Athea said.

"To an extent," Zaeryn said. "Stopping every future acquisition would mean refusing every bond I might form for the rest of my life."

Athea did not look sympathetic.

"That would be inconvenient," Athea said. "It might also be preferable to allowing an individual of unknown allegiance to accumulate unlimited power."

He met her eyes. "I’m not going to pretend power means nothing to me," Zaeryn said. "Once people learned what I was, staying defenseless stopped being an option. I want enough strength to protect myself. That doesn’t mean I plan on turning it against the Crown."

"Every potential threat calls its preparations defensive," Athea said. "The word proves very little."

"I know," Zaeryn replied. "You asked what my intentions were, and I answered."

Athea watched him closely, searching for hidden hostility.

"At least the answer was honest," Valerie said.

"Honesty does not make it reassuring," Athea replied.

"No," Zaeryn agreed. "I wasn’t expecting it to."

A quiet murmur passed between several councilwomen. Calyra lowered her gaze toward the display before her, maintaining the same guarded expression.

Athea waited until the room settled again.

"You knew traveling to the Capital might result in your detention. Why did you agree to come?" Athea asked.

"Because refusing wouldn’t have made anyone less suspicious," Zaeryn said.

"It would’ve made it look like I had something to hide. I also have a life in Sector Seven that I don’t plan on throwing away just to dodge questions."

"Beyond protecting yourself, what do you intend to do as your power grows?" Valerie asked.

"I want to master what I have so I don’t become a hazard to myself or the people around me," Zaeryn answered. "And I don’t plan on letting any faction turn me into a tool. Beyond that, I don’t have some grand scheme. I’m taking things one step at a time."

"You have no ambition for rank or political authority?" a councilwoman asked.

"Not right now," Zaeryn replied. "I only found out any of this was possible a few weeks ago. It’d be a lie to pretend I’ve got my whole future mapped out."

Calyra continued watching him without revealing whether the answer satisfied her.

"Would you accept service to the Crown?" Athea asked.