The tension in the intimate chamber was thick enough to choke on. The tragic fate of Kael's sons, the staggering loss of a thousand Antmen, and the external threat of the Bloodbeard Pirates had brought the council to the brink of despair. Yet, it was the chilling stillness of Lord Velas Arcanis that finally broke Antares's patience.
Antares's direct question hung heavy in the air: "What great, unseen danger has the Arcanis Clan failed to warn the kingdom about?"
Lord Velas, the Patriarch of the scholars, finally stirred. When he spoke, his voice was not the high, academic tone Antares expected, but a low, mournful sound, carrying the weight of deep, generational pain.
"Your Majesty," Velas began, avoiding direct eye contact. "The danger is not unseen. It is inside us. It is decay."
He rose slowly, gesturing with a hand that trembled slightly. "My Clan, the keepers of knowledge and the source of the tribe's mystical defense, is dying. In the Arcanis Clan, which once boasted thousands of mages, only three hundred individuals still show any capability or true potential to wield mana. The rest are mundane, no different from any common worker. Furthermore, there have been few Ashfang clansmen who manifested mana abilities powerful, naming themselves shamans, numbering barely ten."
Velas's tone tightened with despair. "Most healers in the entire tribe come from our reduced ranks. We cannot replace ourselves. I have tried to fight this curse for decades. I installed a policy of aggressive polygamy on every Arcanis male capable of accessing mana, forcing them to father multiple children with any Antwoman showing even a hint of magical talent."
He looked directly at Antares, a plea in his ancient eyes. "Even under this policy, the mana-wielding genes refuse to transfer. The children are strong, but magically vacant. We are fading, Your Majesty. Soon, there will be no one left to maintain the ancient wards, no one to heal the inevitable wounds of the tribe."
Antares made a conscious effort to ignore the mental image of the old lord Velas frantically chasing Antwomen across the settlement. He focused on the chilling implications of the magic drought.
"What is the cause of this rapid decline, Lord Velas?" Antares asked, his tone now deeply serious.
Velas swallowed hard, the memory clearly traumatic. "It began decades ago, after the last major conflict with the Goblins of the Dead Wastelands. They assaulted us not with steel, but with a vile, arcane warfare. They unleashed a contaminant, a truly filthy disease they called Mana Pollution. It was a plague that specifically targeted and consumed those capable of manipulating ambient mana."
Velas's voice cracked. "I watched my older sister, who was set to become the Clan Patriarch, succumb. The mana inside her boiled away, killing her within a cycle. Mana Pollution had a one hundred percent fatality rate for the afflicted. It killed my brothers, my teachers, my friends. It slaughtered our magical caste, leaving us with barely a tenth of our power."
Antares sat perfectly still, a wave of profound understanding washing over him. He finally knew why the entire tribe had looked at him with such shock and awe, confusion mixed with terror, when he had shown the slightest sign of magical life. The previous Ant King had died not of illness, but of this plague.
Mana Pollution kills 100% of its victims, Antares realized silently. And I survived it. I am nothing short of a walking miracle, an insult to the Goblin's greatest weapon.
He broke his concentration and instinctively checked the System.
[System Message: Welcome back, Host.]
[Current Essence Points: 7,000]
Antares quickly and silently issued a query to the System, testing the limits of his power in this political vacuum.
Can I use Essence Points to resolve the Arcanis Clan's mana decline?
The System instantly complied, scanning Lord Velas, then expanding the analysis to cover the magical lineage of the Arcanis Clan.
[System Analysis Complete:]
[The Arcanis Clan carries residual, diluted blood of ancient Elven ancestry—the original source of their innate, high-grade magical ability. Over generations of interbreeding with non-magical Antmen to replenish their numbers post-plague, this crucial Elven Gene has become too dilute to spontaneously activate the mana organ (the 'mana chamber' in the heart).]
[Solution: Host can use Essence Points to chemically stabilize and forcefully awaken the dormant Elven Gene in suitable individuals.]
[Cost per Individual: 300 Essence Points (Awakens Novice Mage Rank).]
Antares processed the revelation. The problem wasn't a curse; it was genetic dilution. He could reverse two thousand years of history with a few button presses. He could instantly replenish the core magical defense of the tribe.
He had the solution, but he needed a dramatic, political staging to introduce it without revealing the System. He remained quiet, calculating the cost (300 E.P. per mage) and the political leverage.
The Lords around the table—Yajin, Kael, Sira, and the worried Velas—watched their new King, hanging on his every breath, convinced he was formulating a divine decree or a crushing military solution.
Antares finally broke the silence, but not with a decree.
"Lord Velas," Antares said, the coldness vanishing from his tone. "I have been hiding something from this council, and I believe now is the time to reveal it. But first, satisfy my curiosity. How many healthy children, in total, have your thirteen wives given you?"
Velas stammered, deeply confused by the change in topic and the bizarre question. "Your... Your Majesty? I have a total of thirteen wives, who together have given me a hundred and fourty one healthy children. I was forced to be zealous in my duty."
The room went utterly silent. Even for the Ant Tribe, where Antwomen had a notably high fertility rate, hundred and a one children was staggering. This tribe, which once numbered five million before ancient food shortages forced Kings to implement strict birth control laws, had become highly conscious of population management. Lord Velas had flagrantly flouted history for survival.
Antares chuckled softly, then the chuckle grew into a full, deep laugh that echoed off the stone walls.
Two hundred and one! Even the great King Solomon would raise an eyebrow, Antares thought, genuinely amused.
He abruptly stood up, forcing himself to adopt a mask of terrifying authority, the amusement gone, replaced by a cold, dangerous glare that some in the room might call bloodthirsty.
"Lord Velas Arcanis!" Antares's voice boomed, carrying a supernatural chill. "You have knowingly transgressed the ancient Law of on birth control, instituted by King Morthos Antis himself! You have played games with the sacred future of this kingdom's resources! You stand guilty of the gravest crime of political irresponsibility!"
Cold sweat instantly ran down the backs of every Lord present. They knew the laws, and they knew the punishment for mass reproduction could be severe. They expected Antares to strike him down or impose exile. The room waited, silent, for the divine punishment to fall.
Then, Antares's face cracked into a massive, wide smile, and he laughed again, a joyous, tension-releasing sound.
"I'm joking!" Antares declared, waving a hand dismissively. "I only wanted to lighten the mood. The fact is, Lord Velas, your disobedience may have saved your clan, it wouldve been a big lost to lose the clan that use mana. Now, listen closely. I want you to immediately gather thirty individuals from your clan—any thirty will do, regardless of gender. They must be physically fit, but their magical talent is irrelevant. Bring them here. I have a solution for your clan's decline, and it requires this room to be empty."
Lord Velas, wiping the sweat from his brow, bowed so low his head nearly scraped the floor, gratitude and confusion swirling in his eyes. He quickly exited the chamber to carry out the King's strange command.
With the heavy weight of the crisis temporarily lifted, Ian, Antares's right-hand man, spoke up.
"Your Majesty, with the Arcanis Patriarch gone and a period of waiting ahead, may I suggest we serve the guests? This meeting has drained everyone, physically and emotionally. It is past time we shared a meal."
Antares readily agreed. He was starving, and the idea of sharing bread with his new council appealed to his political instincts. He did not want to be a distant, arrogant King, but a leader who broke bread and understood the suffering of his people.
"Do it, Ian," Antares commanded. "Prepare a meal for the council. Let us eat together while we wait for Velas."