Chapter 162

Chapter 162: Chapter 162

Satou wanted to argue more, wanted to make them see reason, but the expressions around the war room were united. This was their choice. Their decision. And nothing he said would change it.

"Call me when it gets serious," Satou said again, looking directly at Lilith. "That’s all I’m asking. Don’t throw your lives away out of pride when I’m right here, able to help."

Veronica let out a grunt—dismissive and final. "We won’t need to. The Fallen Spires has defended itself for three centuries. We’ll defend it for three more."

With that, both she and Lilith turned and walked out of the war room, heading to coordinate their forces and prepare defensive positions. Other council members followed, each one giving Satou looks that ranged from apologetic to defiant.

Soon, only Satou and Seraphine remained in the war room.

"I’m sorry," Seraphine said quietly.

Before Satou could respond, her voice echoed in his mind—telepathic communication that bypassed sound entirely.

Thank you for not pushing harder. Thank you for accepting this, even though I know how much it frustrates you.

Satou started slightly at the mental intrusion, but focused, trying to respond the same way. This is insane. You know that, right? Your people are going to die out of pride.

I know, Seraphine’s mental voice carried the weight of that sadness he’d seen in her eyes. But they need this. Everyone has been on edge since we learned The Reaper is coming. They’ve been living with fear, with the knowledge that an invincible hero is marching toward our home. They need to feel like they have agency, like they’re doing something rather than just waiting to die.

But they are going to die, Satou thought back. That’s exactly what’s going to happen if they face The Reaper first.

Perhaps, Seraphine agreed. But they’ll die fighting for their home rather than cowering behind a guest. That matters to them. Pride matters. Honor matters. The right to defend what’s yours matters. I can’t take that away from them, even to save their lives.

That’s...

Complicated? Yes. Seraphine’s mental voice carried a slight note of dark humor. Welcome to leadership, Satou. Sometimes the right choice and the smart choice aren’t the same thing. Sometimes you have to let people do what they need to do, even when you know it’s probably going to get them killed.

Satou looked at her—really looked at her. The confident demon lord, the seductive corrupted angel, all of that was a mask over someone who was terrified of losing her people but refusing to show it because leaders couldn’t afford to show fear.

They care about you, you know, Seraphine continued. Veronica and Lilith, all of them. They’re not rejecting your help out of spite. They’re trying to protect you in their own way. By keeping you out of the frontline, they’re keeping you safe until the crucial moment. They’re trying to preserve the weapon that might actually kill The Reaper, even at the cost of their own lives.

By treating me like a weapon instead of a person, Satou thought, unable to keep the bitterness from his mental voice.

By valuing what you can do, Seraphine corrected gently. They know you’re powerful. They know you have Void Fang. And they know that if you die in the preliminary fighting—if The Reaper adapts to your abilities early—then we have no chance at all. So they’re willing to be the shield that protects you until you can be the sword that kills him.

That’s a terrible plan.

Yes, Seraphine agreed simply. But it’s the one they need. So I’m asking you to accept it. Let them fight their fight. And when the moment comes—when they’ve done everything they can and created the opening we need—that’s when you strike. Can you do that? Can you let them have this, even knowing what it might cost?

Satou was quiet for a long moment, thinking. Every tactical bone in his body was screaming that this plan was wrong. That he should be engaging first, using Void Fang before The Reaper had a chance to see it coming, before adapting to dozens of other abilities made him even more dangerous.

But another part of him—the part that had built a settlement based on giving people agency, on respecting their choices even when those choices were difficult—understood what Seraphine was saying.

These people needed to fight for their home. Needed to prove to themselves they hadn’t just rolled over and accepted death. Needed to feel like they’d done everything possible before falling back on the desperate last-ditch plan of a Reality-Class weapon wielded by an outsider.

I’ll wait, Satou finally thought back. I don’t like it. I think it’s going to get people killed unnecessarily. But I’ll respect their choice. I’ll be the last defense, like you planned. But Seraphine?

Yes?

When things go wrong—and they will go wrong—don’t let pride kill everyone. Call me before it’s too late. Promise me that.

I promise, Seraphine thought, and Satou could feel the sincerity in her mental voice. When it becomes clear we need you, I’ll call. No matter what Veronica or Lilith say, no matter what pride demands. When survival requires it, I’ll ask for your help.

Good enough, Satou thought.

The telepathic connection faded, and they were left standing in the war room with only normal sound.

"Seven days," Seraphine said aloud. "Seven days to prepare defenses, evacuate civilians, and ready ourselves for a battle we probably can’t win. How do you want to spend them?"

"Training," Satou said immediately. "If I’m going to be the killing blow, I need to practice with Void Fang. Need to refine my techniques, explore its capabilities, understand its limits. Because I’m only going to get one shot at this. If my strike fails, if The Reaper adapts to reality erasure, then we’re all dead anyway."

"The southern training grounds are yours," Seraphine offered. "They’re isolated enough that you won’t be disturbed. I’ll make sure supplies and privacy are provided."

"Thank you," Satou said. Then, more quietly: "I really am sorry. About all of this. You shouldn’t be in this position."