Chapter 779

There was an old truth about leadership: if the water was perfectly clear, no fish could survive in it. If a ruler scrutinized every flaw in every subordinate, eventually there would be no one left to serve them.

A capable leader could tolerate a great deal.

Incompetence. Laziness. Carelessness. Even greed, lust, bribery, and other less-than-virtuous habits could be overlooked to some extent, depending on the individual and the circumstances.

But tolerance always had a limit.

That limit was disloyalty.

No ruler, no matter how forgiving—or how foolish—could tolerate betrayal indefinitely. Unless they were unaware of it or deliberately allowing it as part of some larger counterintelligence operation, disloyalty and treason were lines that simply could not be crossed.

"Ms. Stephanie, I hope you’ll take this seriously. This is a very serious situation."

Evenson spoke as though he were delivering a warning of impending doom.

"Disloyalty is like a disease. Once it takes root inside an organization, it can spread rapidly, eventually tearing the entire structure apart."

He pointed toward the unfortunate iron ball that had spent the last few minutes being squeezed and reshaped.

"Like this."

A flick of his finger sent a Curse of Agony into it.

The iron ball rapidly corroded beneath the spell, breaking apart into a pile of black sand.

"An organization that was once solid becomes nothing more than scattered fragments under the influence of enough traitors."

Stephanie stared thoughtfully at the remains.

Evenson wasn’t wrong.

A traitor could be like a cancer. One person’s betrayal could encourage everyone around them to reconsider their own loyalty.

If someone betrayed the organization and got away with it, others would naturally begin wondering why they should continue exhausting themselves for the sake of loyalty when betrayal apparently carried no serious consequences.

Worse, what if superiors or colleagues discovered the betrayal but were afraid that exposing it would implicate them as well?

They might cover it up.

Then the cover-up itself would become leverage.

Before long, everyone involved would be trapped.

And even if one or two people managed to retain their principles, their position would become increasingly impossible.

A loyal subordinate surrounded by traitors still had to deal with the superior who had betrayed the organization. They still had to navigate relationships with colleagues who had chosen the same path. Even if they gathered the courage to expose everything, a united group could easily turn the accusation back on them.

When everyone told the same story, the lone dissenter became the suspicious one.

Eventually, if survival demanded it, even an honest person might choose to join the crowd.

It was an extremely dangerous situation.

Ironically, Stephanie knew perfectly well that absolute loyalty from every member of a large organization was impossible.

Her father, Malik, knew it too.

That was why they had settled for something more practical: make betrayal as costly as possible and thereby reduce the likelihood of anyone attempting it.

Relative loyalty.

They had believed that system worked.

For a long time, it had.

The organization had remained remarkably stable.

But after what had happened yesterday, perhaps that confidence had been misplaced.

A dangerous light appeared in Stephanie’s eyes.

Someone who had been carefully selected and judged to be highly loyal had betrayed them.

Despite having apparently passed every test, his loyalty had collapsed the moment he faced a fifty-percent chance of death.

And he hadn’t merely defected.

He had taken the reckless step of holding Stephanie herself hostage, apparently without caring what happened afterward.

If someone considered highly loyal could do something that insane, what about everyone who had originally been judged less trustworthy?

If the situation became even slightly worse, would they scatter?

Would some of them sell out Stephanie and her father to save themselves?

Would they even go so far as to hand the two of them over personally in exchange for a reward?

The thought sent a chill through her.

This was bad.

Very bad.

For a moment, Stephanie felt as though she were sitting on top of a volcano that could erupt from the slightest disturbance.

Then she shook her head sharply.

Was it really that serious?

Or was yesterday’s incident simply making her see threats everywhere?

"We’ve always placed great importance on maintaining internal purity," she said. "We have strict counterintelligence and anti-subversion regulations, along with a mature internal oversight system. Isn’t what you’re describing a little too... catastrophic?"

"Hmph."

Evenson gave a quiet laugh.

"No matter how perfect a system is, it still has to be enforced."

Stephanie’s brow furrowed.

"You mean our regulations are nothing more than empty words? That our oversight system is useless?"

She respected Evenson’s abilities, but he was still an outsider.

How could he possibly know the details of Hydra’s internal affairs, let alone how effectively its regulations were enforced?

If he really knew that much, then Hydra’s internal security apparatus would have been far more compromised than she had realized.

"It’s obvious," Evenson said with a shrug.

"The best medicine for disloyalty is fear."

Stephanie’s expression sharpened.

"Extreme fear."

Evenson spread his hands.

"Those anti-subversion regulations and internal oversight systems all ultimately serve the same purpose."

"Make people fear the consequences of betrayal badly enough, and they’ll instinctively suppress the thought before it becomes an action. Even if the idea crosses their minds, fear makes them hesitate."

"If you can’t control people’s hearts, control their behavior through fear."

"Fear..."

Stephanie’s eyes gleamed.

"That’s an interesting way of putting it."

Evenson’s argument had clearly struck a chord.

Rule through fear.

Use fear to crush resistance.

Hydra, regardless of faction, had always understood the value of that principle.

"But..."

Evenson’s tone suddenly changed.

"Rules are still just rules. No matter how harsh they are, they’re static. They lack specificity."

"Once people understand exactly how a rule works, they’ll naturally start looking for ways around it. That’s simply human nature. And once people learn how to circumvent a punishment, the fear surrounding it loses much of its power."

"It’s the same with the laws of the modern world. No matter how severe a law is, it won’t necessarily frighten someone as much as a judge notorious for interpreting sentencing guidelines in the harshest possible way."

Stephanie listened carefully.

"Because fear isn’t static. It’s dynamic."

Evenson’s gaze hardened.

"The thing that truly terrifies people is another human being who embodies that uncertainty. Someone unpredictable. Someone whose intentions and limits are impossible to read."

"A person with enough depth that nobody can ever be certain what he’ll do next."

Stephanie’s eyes flickered.

Brilliant.

Of all the theories about fear she’d ever heard, this was easily one of the most compelling.

If circumstances had been different, she might actually have applauded him.

Of course, Evenson was a Warlock.

If there was one thing a Warlock had no business losing an argument about, it was fear.

For some reason, that made him think of Claire.

His future suddenly seemed a little less pleasant.

"However..."

Evenson deliberately dragged out the word before looking sideways at Stephanie.

"That role was supposed to be played by your father."

Stephanie’s expression changed.

"Hydra’s ancient families have survived for centuries, maintaining extraordinary cohesion across generations. There are many reasons for that, but the most important is simple."

"Every member of the family holds the patriarch in the highest possible regard."

"So much regard that it becomes fear."

"No one dares challenge him, much less betray him."

"That’s authoritarian rule. And I’d say it’s one of the things Hydra has always been particularly good at."

Stephanie agreed with nearly everything he’d said.

Nearly.

"The role was supposed to be played by my father?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you saying my father has failed to fulfill his role as patriarch?"

"And what makes you so certain of that?"

"I don’t know."

Evenson shrugged without the slightest hesitation.

Stephanie stared at him.

He didn’t know?

And he’d just spent all that time talking as though he had some grand insight?

"Maybe I’m generalizing from what happened yesterday."

Evenson rubbed his chin.

"And, just to be clear, I have absolutely no disrespect for your father."

Stephanie nearly sighed.

Then again, the conversation had already gone this far.

"Fine. Do you have any suggestions for fixing the problem?"

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

"The executioner."

Stephanie blinked.

"In ancient times, every great king had an executioner. Someone responsible not merely for carrying out punishments, but for enforcing the king’s will."

"Mostly the punishment part, of course."

He smiled faintly.

"But regardless, it was an honored position."

"The executioner was the physical embodiment of the fear of betrayal. He appeared whenever someone entertained treasonous thoughts and delivered the punishment that followed."

"That ensured the king’s authority remained absolute."

Stephanie fell silent.

She thought about it for several seconds.

Then her eyes widened.

"You mean..."

She pointed toward herself.

"You want me to become the executioner."

"Exactly."

Evenson didn’t bother hiding it.

"The heir is actually the ideal candidate."

"By enforcing the absolute authority of the ruler, the heir simultaneously establishes tremendous personal authority. That gives them a solid foundation for eventually taking the throne themselves."

He paused.

"And besides..."

His expression became strangely vague.

"Even if..."

He stopped.

Stephanie understood anyway.

If the executioner’s personal authority eventually exceeded that of the king, the executioner could potentially overthrow the king.

But if the executioner was already the heir, that wasn’t necessarily a disaster.

Whether they succeeded or failed, the power remained within the family.

Better that than handing the organization to an outsider.

"Besides, an heir who can successfully serve as executioner doesn’t necessarily need to excel at everything else," Evenson continued.

"If they can maintain internal stability, that’s enough. Stability is the foundation of everything."

"Without it, even the greatest talents in every other field are worthless."

Stephanie looked at him.

"I..."

She hesitated.

"Could I really do it?"

The question sounded uncertain, but the excitement in her eyes betrayed her.

She was already tempted.

Evenson noticed.

"You’re Malik’s only daughter. His sole heir. You’re destined to become the person who unites all of Hydra."

"But if you want to become that person, you can’t spend your life as your father’s sheltered daughter."

"You need to establish your authority early."

"And besides..."

He glanced toward her hands.

"You already have the power to carry out the punishment."

A strange smile touched Stephanie’s lips.

She turned around.

With a casual wave of her hand, the scattered iron sand beside her rose from the ground.

The fragments swirled together, compressing and locking into place until they once again formed a perfect sphere.

So what if everything had been reduced to scattered pieces?

She had the power to put it back together.

And this time, she would be the one holding it together.

Evenson reached into his belongings.

He pulled out a short, emerald-green rod roughly twenty-five centimeters long and held it out to her.

"This is the weapon I made for you."

Stephanie accepted it.

The craftsmanship was exquisite.

Nine serpent heads twisted around the length of the weapon, their forms converging into a single design at one end.

She turned it over.

There were inscriptions carved into the opposite end.

At first glance, they looked like a poem.

She read the words carefully.

Peace is a lie.

Only desire remains.

Desire gives birth to power.

Power gives birth to strength.

Strength gives birth to victory.

Victory breaks the chains.

The Force shall set you free.

Stephanie stared at the inscription.

Something clicked.

Her fingers tightened around the weapon.

Power surged from her body and poured into the green rod.

The nine serpent heads opened their jaws simultaneously.

With a flash of brilliant green light, a blade of energy erupted from the weapon.

Stephanie stood silently, staring at the glowing blade in her hands.

The weapon hummed.

And for the first time, the future of Hydra’s heir looked very different.