novelraw Chapter 388: The State of the Union
Chapter 388: The State of the Union
The clinking of silverware against porcelain continued, a rhythmic sound that felt like a ticking clock. The Leader of Celestial stepped back, gesturing toward the podium. A woman in a sharp, slate-gray suit ascended, unrolling a digital scroll. Simultaneously, the massive screen behind her flickered to life, displaying a series of complex heat maps and economic data.
"While you partake in the banquet, we shall proceed with the reading of the most significant developments since our last assembly," the woman began, her voice amplified and cold.
"First, we address the internal stability of our nation," she continued, her eyes flickering toward the screen. "Immigration rates have surged beyond sustainable levels, leading to a drastic reduction in employment opportunities, specifically along the East Coast."
She paused, her gaze lingering on Ethan for a split second too long. The implication was clear: Royal’s aggressive recruitment of refugees and displaced persons for its reconstruction projects was being framed as the source of the national labor crisis. Ethan remained stone-faced, leaning back in his chair with an air of bored indifference.
"On a more positive note," the woman added, "agricultural yields have stabilized. Our active-duty groups have successfully managed the containment of spiritual beast incursions and pestilence. Specifically, the ’Red Lung’ plague that was devastating the elderly and youth populations in the central corridors has been 90% neutralized."
Ethan checked a mental ping from Crul. He had been monitoring the pandemic from afar. It hadn’t touched his borders yet, but the data suggested the Union had used rather... final methods to achieve that 90% "neutralization."
The woman then shifted the discourse to the political structure. "The window for nominating candidates for the Mortal Governments is closing. At the state and local levels, the governing powers of each zone hold the right of appointment. However, the Federal Government—the body that represents our collective interests to the world—must be comprised of representatives from every territory."
She looked directly at Ethan, her polite smile not reaching her eyes. "Since we have new members among us, I shall emphasize: if you wish to have a voice in the federal laws that govern the trade of resources and items, you must submit your candidates immediately."
Ethan gave a curt, professional nod. The woman returned a shallow bow, but internally, Ethan was already moving.
"Crul," he thought, his mental voice sharp. "Notify Lena. I want our most trusted political strategists prepared. We aren’t leaving the federal table to these vultures. I want eyes and ears in every committee meeting."
[Acknowledged, Master. Initiating the ’Shadow Caucus’ protocol.]
The woman’s voice took on a more fervent, nationalistic tone as she reached the conclusion of her report. The charts on the screen shifted to show a massive influx of "unregistered" energy signatures crossing the borders.
"Finally," she declared, her voice rising with a sharp, populist edge. "To protect our national sovereignty and the purity of our resources, we must address the surge of irregular migration. Our local citizens are being displaced by those who have not bled for this soil. We issue a formal request to all jurisdictions: prioritize American citizens. Root out the undocumented elements within your borders. They are a drain on our spiritual essence and a threat to our security. They must be expelled immediately to ensure that the glory of this nation remains in the hands of those who built it!"
The room erupted in a low murmur of approval from the Scavengers and the lower-tier leaders. It was a classic play—shifting the blame for economic hardship onto the most vulnerable to justify a tightening of borders and a crackdown on independent recruitment.
Ethan watched the screen, his eyes narrowing. He knew this wasn’t just about "sovereignty." It was a direct legislative strike aimed at his labor force. By labeling his workers as "irregular," the Union was setting the stage to seize his projects and dismantle his empire from the inside out.
"Protecting the soil," Ethan whispered to Anne. "A convenient excuse for those who only know how to bury things in it."
Anne smirked, swirling her wine. "They’re building a cage, Ethan. They just don’t realize you’re the one holding the key to the lock."
"In any case," Ethan said, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, "if I simply choose not to comply, it isn’t as if they have the power to make me."
His lack of reaction was sending ripples of unease through the assembly. The intelligence reports gathered by Celestial and the Union had painted a very different picture of the man sitting before them. According to their data, Ethan was supposed to be impulsive, fiercely reactive, and incapable of tolerating even the slightest slight against his authority. They had expected him to leap to his feet, to shout, to provide them with the very "outburst" they needed to justify a sanction.
Instead, they were met with a terrifyingly calm decorum. Ethan sat there with an aplomb that made the surrounding titans feel like squabbling children.
Behind the scenes, the high-ranking leaders exchanged frantic, subtle glances. Their main concern wasn’t just the "irregular migrants"—it was the nature of the people Ethan was recruiting. Royal’s borders had become a vacuum, sucking in thousands of mercenaries, exiled assassins, and high-level criminals who had been hunted by the very powers in this room for decades. Ethan wasn’t just building a workforce; he was assembling a private army of "dangerous elements" with deep-seated grudges against the Scavengers and Celestial.
Every new recruit was a ticking time bomb, and Ethan was the only one with his finger on the detonator.
"He’s not biting," whispered the Scavenger Leader to his grandfather, his voice barely audible. "The reports said he was a hot-head. Did we get the wrong intelligence? Or has he grown this much in just a few months?"
The Ancestor didn’t answer. He was staring at the way Ethan’s shadow seemed to stretch unnaturally long across the gold-veined marble. To the others, Ethan looked like a man ignoring a problem. To the Ancestor, he looked like a predator that had already finished the hunt and was now simply waiting for the prey to realize it was dead.
The woman at the podium cleared her throat, her hand trembling slightly as she turned the page of her digital scroll. The "trap" of the labor laws had failed to snap shut, and now they were forced to move on to the next item on the agenda without the leverage they had hoped for.