A round table sat in the middle of a giant room, twelve seats around. Twelve obsidian pillars rose to hold up a Victorian-style glass dome, an image of a ferocious battle etched into its surface.
Eleven seats were taken. One was occupied by a shimmering hologram of a Creoling, while the last and most extravagant chair, clearly the head of the table, remained empty.
"We've called this meeting to discuss the Creoling attack on Zephyr City. Care to explain why one of your own attacked our city, killed millions of civilians, and one of our Paragons?"
The voice belonged to a man in a sharp red suit. His red hair framed a flawless face, his eyes glowing with the color of fresh blood. He stared pointedly at the holographic figure.
This Creoling was unlike Drav'xulen. He was unfairly handsome, with 5 horns on his head, two eyes instead of six, and only two arms. He was dressed in gold, his hair even more vibrant than his clothes.
The hologram shifted, and the Creoling's lips curled into a lazy smile. "Ah, I heard about that. I thought you humans would be strong enough to handle it. Don't tell me you've grown weaker in all the years since we signed the pact." His voice was soft and melodic, almost a purr.
The red-suited man's jaw tightened. From across the table, a woman in a black Gothic dress spoke, her voice as smooth as polished stone. She had an absolutely beautiful face, with black hair and eyes reminiscent of the abyss.
"So you violated the pact because you thought we would take care of it? Do you want war, Caelvorith?"
A ripple of unease ran through the council. Caelvorith's lazy smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
"Hahaha, War!" he roared, leaning forward in his chair. The holographic projection flickered, the air around it growing heavy with a sense of immense power. "You speak of war as if it should be feared. I welcome it! I crave it! Let's go to WAR!!" His handsome face twisted in a look of savage euphoria.
He was the representative of the Creolings, a brutal warlord who lived for battle and conquest.
"Did your emperor agree to this or this is just you talking." The lady in black, Mira spoke.
"My Esteemed Emperor has selected me to represent our people, my word is His Word."
Caelvorith spoke,his eyes sparkling as he spoke of the Emperor
"You really want to go to war?" a new voice cut through the chaos. Vex. She stared coldly at Caelvorith, her hands resting calmly on the table. "I don't think I need to remind you who proposed the peace treaty, and why it was proposed."
Caelvorith's eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto Vex. The tension in the room became unbearable. He didn't answer her directly. Instead, he simply smirked.
"Ah, no need for that. If you humans are so scared of war, then I suppose I could extend the treaty for a few more years. Give you time to gather your armies and train worthy soldiers." He paused, his voice deepening with each word, "It won't matter, though. For you will all die at my hands."
A soft, delighted giggle broke the silence. It came from a green-haired girl, who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She sat there like a beautiful collectible doll, her eyes gleaming with a manic spark. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face as she looked at Caelvorith, her expression one of pure lust—not for him, but for the carnage he promised.
"Is that so? Well, we thank you, oh great one, for giving us time," she said, her voice filled with a chilling excitement. "We promise you won't regret it."
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