novelraw Chapter 389: The Obsidian Peak
Chapter 389: The Obsidian Peak
The woman in the slate-gray suit stepped down, offering a crisp, robotic bow to the assembly. The screen behind her flickered, transitioning from economic maps to a stark, hierarchical list. The Leader of Celestial reclaimed the podium, his presence expanding to fill the room like a rising tide.
"With the state of our union addressed," he began, his voice echoing with practiced gravity, "we shall proceed to the next item on the agenda: the ratification of new powers. It is time to recognize the organizations and groups that have risen to shape the future of this nation."
The screen illuminated a new chart. At the bottom, a long column of names glowed in dull Bronze. Above them, a shorter list shimmered in Silver. There were no names in Gold. But at the very top, set against a background of matte Obsidian, the name ROYAL burned in brilliant gold lettering, shining like a lone star atop a winter tree.
Ethan leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he studied the display. The room buzzed with a low, electric murmur. It was highly unusual for the Leader of Celestial to preside over this process personally, but seeing the Obsidian rank at the summit, the realization began to dawn on the other attendees. This wasn’t just a formality; it was a confrontation.
The Leader gestured to his assistant, who stepped forward to explain the protocols for the newcomers.
"For those joining us for the first time, I shall outline the voting procedures for membership," she said, her voice cutting through the whispers. "Each tier has the right to vet those below them. For Bronze candidates, only those of Silver rank and above may vote. For Silver, only those of Gold rank and above. For Gold, only the Obsidian ranks hold the power of veto. And for the Obsidian rank itself... only those who already sit upon that peak may speak."
The process began swiftly. Names of new mercenary groups and local syndicates from across the country were called out: The Iron Vanguard in the Midwest, Neon Syndicate in the Southwest, and Gale Force on the coast. One by one, they were ratified into the Bronze tier without a single objection. The Silver and Gold tiers remained empty for this session.
Finally, the screen cleared, leaving only the Obsidian header and the name ROYAL.
The presenter fell silent and took a long step back. The Leader of Celestial gripped the edges of the podium, the silver light around him intensifying. In this chamber, where power was the only true currency, the air became heavy with the weight of unsaid threats.
"While the protocol for an Obsidian candidate is typically a closed discussion among peers," the Celestial Leader said, his eyes locking onto Ethan’s, "it is a matter of respect to those who wield real power. An Obsidian rank does not just govern a territory; they govern the destiny of the nation. Therefore, the floor is open for the highest tier to voice their... concerns."
Ethan didn’t move. He didn’t look at the screen. He simply watched the Celestial Leader, a faint, mocking glint in his amethyst eyes. He knew exactly what was coming: the "test" of the Obsidian rank was rarely about a vote—it was about survival.
The Scavenger Ancestor leaned back, his massive chest expanding as he let out a low, gravelly hum. His gaze didn’t flicker toward the screen, but stayed locked on Ethan.
"More than a concern," the Ancestor began, his voice resonating through the auditorium like a shifting tectonic plate, "it is a question of what has been transpiring lately in the world—not just in our borders. As we all know, the world is currently in a state of total chaos, leaving no place truly safe."
He paused, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Many of you may already know that we, the Scavengers, have had our... differences with the Royal group. Even a branch of Celestial suffered significant losses when facing them. However, I do not say this to mock or to invite ridicule. I say this to demonstrate that the Royal group is a capable entity. They possess the power to sit at the same table as any of us."
A ripple of genuine shock passed through the Silver and Bronze tiers. The air grew thick with whispers. Until this moment, Celestial, the Scavengers, and the Union had kept the details of their skirmishes with Ethan under a total media blackout. It was a matter of extreme shame; the last thing they wanted was for the world to know that a "rookie" had aggressively cornered them and undermined their authority in the Est coast.
By openly admitting to their losses, the Ancestor had committed a massive political gamble.
Ethan remained motionless, his face a mask of cold indifference, but internally, he was on high alert. Diminishing your own authority to elevate an opponent is Politics 101, Ethan thought. It was the classic "Sacrifice Move"—building up a target’s prestige only to make the coming execution seem like a necessary act of balance.
He knew what followed a build-up like this: a strike so heavy it was meant to shatter the pedestal they had just built for him.
"So," the Ancestor continued, his tone shifting from respectful to ominous, "since the Leader of Royal is so capable, and since he has effectively ’stabilized’ his territory by absorbing so many... unpredictable elements, I believe it is only fair that we discuss the responsibilities that come with such an Obsidian rank. Specifically, the responsibility of ’National Contribution’ during this time of plague and scarcity."
The Leader of Celestial nodded slowly, picking up the thread. "Indeed. A power of Royal’s magnitude surely shouldn’t be allowed to hoard its ’miracle’ resources while the rest of the nation’s pillars are strained, wouldn’t you agree, Deacon?"
The Union Deacon leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Ethan like a hawk watching a mouse. The trap was finally visible: they were going to use his own strength as the justification to forcibly "distribute" his resources under the guise of national security.