Chapter 1523: The Shift of power II

Until now, Theodore Navaro held absolute leverage over the room. As the sole possessor of the Bael-countering technology, the only weapons proven capable of slowing, let alone defeating, the creatures, he had cornered every nation into reluctant compliance.

For months, world leaders had endured his terms, swallowed his condescension, and accepted an arrangement that stripped them of bargaining power. They cooperated not out of trust, but because they had no alternative. Survival left them no choice.

But the moment a second option emerged, however fragile or untested, the atmosphere shifted with remarkable speed. The leaders, long chafing under Theodore’s dominance, seized upon the opportunity like men granted a sudden reprieve from execution.

A rustle swept through the chamber as attention swiveled toward Lucas. Hope, cautious, restrained, but unmistakably alive, it lit the eyes of presidents, chancellors, and prime ministers alike.

For the first time since the Bael crisis began, they could imagine a future not dictated by Theodore’s whims, and in that charged moment, every gaze fixed on Lucas, as though waiting for him to declare the path that might finally break their dependence.

Lucas’s expression remained composed, as if untouched by the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a steady, unhurried cadence that contrasted sharply with the tension simmering among the delegates.

"As you are all aware," Lucas began, "We have also developed a weapon capable of countering the Bael." His tone was calm. "What we created is much simpler than Mr. Navaro’s invention, less sophisticated, if I may say so," he said modestly, but his tone was full of confidence.

A faint, almost disarming smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Nevertheless," Lucas continued, his tone dry and deceptively mild, "it’s effective. And easy to use without third-party interference."

The subtle emphasis hung in the air like a blade. Those seasoned in diplomacy understood instantly: a pointed reminder that Luxemborough’s weapon could not function without the Saintess’s blessing—an external hand with absolute veto power. It was a dependency no sovereign state would willingly accept, yet one they had been forced to endure for the sake of survival.

But now—now there was an alternative.

And the realization struck the room with quiet force. The helplessness they had swallowed for months, the indignity of relying on a power that could withhold salvation at its whim, all of it suddenly felt negotiable. The tide had shifted, and every leader present knew it.

The Xiyan delegation, President Zhang Yu Wei leaned forward slightly, his voice carefully measured. "Would you care to elaborate for us, King Lucas?"

"Of course." Lucas inclined his head. "As I mentioned—it’s simple." He shifted his gaze toward Fredhardt.

At once, Fredhardt stepped forward from behind him, carrying a sleek metal case whose design alone suggested high security and strategic importance. He placed it on the table with deliberate precision. After a brief pause, he pressed his thumb against the biometric lock.

A soft click broke the silence. Every leader present instinctively leaned in, eyes sharpened, anticipation tightening the room as the case slowly opened. Inside lay a cylindrical glass container filled with vibrant red liquid.

"Don’t worry," Lucas said lightly, easing the tension that spiked through the room. "It’s perfectly safe for humans. If it weren’t, President Zhang wouldn’t have allowed me to bring it in."

The Xiya president offered a reassuring nod to evryone in the room, soon after the room exhaled as the tight atmosphere loosened.

"This is called B-13," Lucas continued. "We’ve refined it to specifically target and neutralize Bael’s regenerative core. As you all know, the Bael are mutated far beyond ordinary beasts. But once their regeneration is disabled, they become no different from an A- or S-class threat."

He paused briefly, allowing the weight of that statement to settle before adding with candid clarity, "When used correctly, B-13 is highly effective. However, I won’t deny that it requires some practice to handle properly. For that reason, each nation should deploy experienced warriors to wield the new weapon."

His straightforwardness, devoid of any embellishment or arrogance, carried a sincerity that was rare in political chambers. That honesty, quiet yet unmistakable, earned him a wave of trust from many national leaders.

As he finished, Lucas allowed his gaze to drift briefly toward Theodore. The glance was fleeting, almost polite, before he looked away as though nothing at all had transpired. But the message was unmistakable.

’The Game is on!’

"Does it truly work?" another head of state asked, leaning forward with a mix of skepticism and need.

"The results," Lucas replied calmly, "can be confirmed by President Zhang himself."

All eyes immediately turned to Zhang Yu Wei. The president of Xiya straightened subtly, the tension lifting from his features. His expression, often guarded during these summits, now carried a rare hint of renewed confidence.

Zhang Yu Wei’s face lit with renewed confidence as he addressed the room. "Over the past two months, King Lucas offered us the opportunity to test a new weapon against the Bael," he announced, voice steady and resonant. "As many of you know, my country has suffered repeated attacks. Our cities burned. Our people died. In those circumstances, we were willing to grasp any hope placed before us."

What Zhang Yu Wei did not reveal was the truth simmering beneath his composed expression: Luxemborough had approached him first, offering cooperation under suffocating terms, terms that would place his nation directly under the control of Theodore Navaro and Alexander Behrenn. It was a leash disguised as an alliance. So of course, he refused.

As a result, in a short time, one after anothe,r their territory fell to the Bael. Cities collapsed, borders crumbled, and the anguished cries of his people haunted every sleepless night. Pressure from within his own government tightened like a noose, almost all ministers demanding he submit to Luxemborough’s offer, even if it meant sacrificing their sovereignty.

Desperation swelled, and hope thinned to a thread.

Just when he was about to give up, King Lucas came with a generous offer. He sent a new developed weapon called B-13 for testing, and it’s free of charge, and alongside it came teams from the N.I.M.S. and the soldiers from King’s Men to demonstrate its use. What followed was nothing short of miraculous. Bael was defeated. Land reclaimed. The tide reversed.

But beyond the weapon’s power, there was something far more valuable: King Lucas demanded nothing in return, no chains, no hidden clauses, no submission.

Only one simple goal, which is to lend support to diminish the influence of Luxemborough and the S.A.I.N.T. organization over the world. That is exactly what he thinks about, so of course, he accepts it with open arms.

Zhang Yu Wei stood, voice steady and resonant.

"Thanks to the new weapon King Lucas gave us, we successfully repelled the Bael attack and reclaimed our broken territory. For that, we express our deepest gratitude to Harland for their timely support."

Polite words, polished to perfection, yet every syllable was aimed like a dagger at Theodore.

Theodore’s expression darkened at once, his face turning the color of burnt charcoal. Beneath the table, his fist clenched so tightly the knuckles blanched to white. Lucas had done it again—slipped in a single, seemingly innocuous statement that effortlessly unraveled the leverage he had so carefully constructed.

A familiar, seething frustration twisted in Theodore’s chest.

Lucas, just like his father, Marcus. Both of them are like a cut from the same infuriating cloth, quiet, calculating, impossible to corner.

They were thorns embedded deep in his flesh, too small to grasp, too stubborn to pull free, yet sharp enough to bleed him every time he moved. This time, also, in front of the entire world, Lucas had made him bleed.

At the far end of the table, President Emery Barco of Dolza watched in silence. His expression remained neutral, almost indifferent, as if the tension suffocating the room were of no concern to him.

He slowly lowered his gaze, masking the flash that briefly sparked in his eyes, cold, calculating, and sharp.

"Thank you for your kind words, President Zhang. B-13 has already entered the market through Bellerophone, and many Guilds have already tested the effectiveness of the B-13, so with so much proof, I think it will not be less useful compared to the Luxemborough weapon," Lucas said.

Murmurs rippled across the room. Whispers of a new weapon capable of countering the Bael had circulated for months among the hunters, but rumors insisted that Luxemborough’s technology remained superior, rumors, it now seemed, carefully engineered by Luxemborough itself to suppress Harland and protect its lucrative monopoly.

Several delegates exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes shifting toward Theodore, suspicion and reproach thinly veiled behind diplomatic restraint.

No one dared voice an accusation, after all, Luxemborough was still one of the most powerful nations in the world, and crossing it openly would be political suicide.

Theodore’s gaze hardened on Lucas, a glint of suppressed fury flashing beneath his otherwise diplomatic composure. He pressed a knuckle thoughtfully against his lips, disguising the tension in his jaw.

Theodore knew full well that as long as a Lucient remained in this world, his long ambition would become nothing but a whistful dream. But, when everything goes wrong? No, his plan was perfect, flawless even

With the help of the unknown power from beyond this world, he managed to plan the deaths of King Marcus even Princess Lorient. And that was supposed to be able to break Lucas completely, leave him hollow and pliable, a prince shattered beyond repair.

Everyone knew how fiercely the Lucient bloodline guarded one another. For centuries, the family had been an anomaly in global politics, no internal coups, no bloody successions, no treacherous siblings vying for the throne. In all recorded history, never once had a Lucient turned blade against a Lucient.

That unity was precisely why Theodore had dared to conspire with Alexander Behrenn, weaving an intricate snare meant to erase the Lucient line in its entirety. Without Lucient, Harland would collapse. Without Harland, Theodore’s ascent would be unchallenged.

Even Alexander Behrenn, for all his ambition, posed no true threat. Men like Alexander were predictable, though, undoubtedly dangerous, but still, it easily steered.

Unlike the Lucients?

They were something else entirely. They were righteous, wise, and, more than anything, they were incorruptible. And that was what made them troublesome. 𝙛𝓇ⅇ

Afterward, the meeting concluded with a collective resolution: to cooperate in confronting the Bael threat and to extend assistance to affected nations through coordinated weapon distribution, technological support, and sustainable recovery loans for countries devastated by the attacks.

In essence, every nation understood a stark and unavoidable truth: neither Luxemborough nor Harland would ever be willing to share their technology with one another.

Cooperation between those two superpowers was impossible; after all, there could not be two tigers on the same mountain. And with the Bael crisis worsening by the day, the world could no longer afford diplomatic ambiguity.

The nations had to make a decision, whom they would align with, and from whom they would seek protection, weaponry, and support in the escalating war against the Bael.

And soon, the direction of the room became unmistakable. One by one, states began signaling their preference for Harland. They knew their choice would undoubtedly anger Luxemborough, perhaps even provoke retaliation, yet it was a risk they were willing to take.

For themselves.For their nations.For their people. Once again, the world would stand behind the Lucient.

Once the gathering concluded, the stage shifted for the public spectacle. The leaders of each nation stepped forward beneath a blinding cascade of camera flashes, arranging themselves into a meticulously curated tableau of unity.

Handshakes were exchanged with practiced grace, smiles carved into place with the precision of diplomats who had spent a lifetime perfecting the art of reassurance.

When Lucas and Theodore met at the center, the performance sharpened. Theodore extended his hand with disarming warmth, his expression molded into something almost paternal, an image crafted for headlines and history books alike.

Lucas responded with a gentle, impeccably polite smile, the portrait of a courteous junior statesman offering respect to an elder.

The cameras captured every second of the moment. To the global audience, it appeared as a scene of harmony between two influential figures.

But to those in the know, that’s anything but true. Behind those friendly smiles lies a quiet, undeniable rivalry. There’s a thin veneer that covers the simmering, silent war between the two superpowers beneath the glittering facade.

No one spoke of it, yet everyone sensed it: something was coming. Something...big, and whether it would bring order or catastrophe, none of them could say.