(Planet Juxta, Cult Civilian Quarters)

The glow of the broadcast screens still lingered in every home, shop, and tavern, the echo of Charles's voice replaying in people's minds long after the transmission had cut.

Silence hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as though the entire planet was holding its breath.

Some sat slumped at their tables, heads buried in their arms, unable to process what they had just heard.

Mothers clutched their children tighter, their trembling lips whispering prayers to the missing Soron, who was too far away to hear them, while fathers stared blankly at the walls, their thoughts running only to questions of survival and whether or not they would even survive long enough to see the next morning?

Some denied the severity of the situation, their fragile sense of reality rejecting the possibility of defeat.

While others behaved like all hope was lost, their pessimism making them believe that this was the end of the Cult.

"This is nonsense," one man muttered from the living room of his house, his hands shaking as he lit a pipe.

"Commander Charles must be exaggerating. Surely, Lord Soron will return at the last moment, like he always does. Surely, this is nothing more than a precaution." His words earned a few nods from the family members around him, as the desperate heads clung to that possibility, though their eyes betrayed disbelief.

"They have tried to defeat us too many times to count, but we are still here! Surely, we will beat them yet again." another scoffed, his brittle laughter cracking midway as though the weight of denial was too heavy to hold.

Yet, amidst the despair and the disbelief, there were still pockets of stubborn hope. "The Shadow Dragon will save us. He's young, but he's fierce. If Charles believes in him, then so should we," a group of youths declared with fire in their eyes, even as their hands shook and their knees buckled.

But no matter where one looked— in the streets, the quarters, the taverns, or the military base— the same heaviness sat upon every face, a gloom that no words could disperse.

For although the Cult had endured centuries of war and darkness, this somehow felt different.

This time, their future itself seemed uncertain.

This time, victory seemed like nothing more than a fleeting hope.

—-----------

All across Cult lands, the reaction of commoners to Charles's speech was the same, as while Juxta was the planet that was immediately affected, the panic of Charles stepping down as vice sect master was observed throughout.

"Lord Soron is no longer within Cult lands? But why?"

"I believe in Lord Dragon and Lord Shadow Dragon, I will follow them to hell and back if I must, however, Commander Charles stepping down still makes me concerned."

"Why did the Commander's speech sound like good-bye? What's going on?"

"Should we be worried? Is our planet going to be next after Juxta?"

Questions like these could be heard on every commoner's tongue as they felt unsure on how to react to this news?

Only a few months ago, they were all celebrating the capture of Planet Nemo, and talking about how the new wave of Cult dominance had finally started.

Yet now, they were once again worrying about their existence, as wounds from generations ago were once again laid bare.

—---------

"What's going on here? What's happening in Juxta? Why has Charles so suddenly stepped down?"

The First Elder asked sharply, his voice rising in agitation, as his assistant bowed lightly before him and tapped urgently on his data-slate, pulling up the compiled reports that had poured in since the broadcast went live.

"Sir, reports confirm that Juxta is under imminent siege. Enemy fleet count estimated at two hundred thousand ships led by Raymond, the prodigious son of the Eternal Sovereign, with five Monarch-class commanders under his banner. The planetary alarms have been raised, and Commander Charles has broadcast a Cult-wide announcement naming Leo Skyshard as temporary Sect Master in his stead."

The assistant paused, his eyes flicking nervously toward the Elder, who sat frozen for a moment, his hands gripping the armrests before slowly burying his head into his palms.

"No… no, no, no, no…" the Elder muttered, his voice trembling as sweat beaded across his forehead. "If Lord Soron isn't here, and Charles publicly names Skyshard as temporary Sect Master, then the council loses all relevance. Don't you see? Skyshard already has two Monarch-tier slaves bound to him, he already has the love and admiration of the masses, and now Charles has handed him the legitimacy to rule on a silver platter. This… this could spell the end of my political career."

The assistant hesitated, unsure how to respond, as the Elder's words poured out, more desperate than concerned.

"Do you understand what this means? The people will not look to us anymore, they will look to him. A boy! A boy who is not even thirty yet… and I— I will be forgotten, cast aside like all the irrelevant fossils before me!"

He slammed his fist against the table, rattling the crystal arrays stacked upon it, his eyes wild as he snapped at his aide.

"Get me a line to Juxta. Now. I must speak with Charles directly. I must see if he needs reinforcements, I must—"

His voice cracked, desperation dripping into every syllable.

"Although I hate that bastard, I can't let him die. Not like this. Not now. Not when he's the only individual keeping Skyshard in check.

No matter the cost… I need him alive, do you hear me? No matter the cost!

Fucking send him all the troops from Tithia if he needs, but make sure he stays alive!"

The assistant bowed again, fingers trembling as he scrambled to establish the connection, while the First Elder sat hunched forward, his palms pressed against his temples, consumed not by the looming fall of Juxta, but by the slow unraveling of his own power.

—---------

The First Elder wasn't alone in his desperation to make a connection to Juxta, as many in the Elders Council had the same thought.

However, since Charles already knew that calling reinforcements to Juxta was not going to change anything, he had informed his underlings to reject all volunteers for aid.

He was past the point of caring now, and hence, whenever an underling walked up to him and informed him of an elders request to talk…..

Charles replied with the same six words each time.

"Tell him to go fuck himself."

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