Utopian System

The door to Mordred's office swung open, revealing Varen, another Summoner. His eyes darted between Lucien and Mordred, sensing the tension.

"What's going on here?" Varen asked, his gaze alternating between Lucien and Mordred.

Mordred's composure returned instantly.

"Just a disagreement over recent events. Nothing of importance," Mordred responded smoothly. "Lucien was expressing some... concerns about the recent battle."

Varen's gaze settled on Lucien. "Understandable concerns, I'm sure. But we must trust in the wisdom of our leaders, mustn't we, Lucien?"

Lucien stared at Varen in disbelief. "Wisdom? Thousands have died for nothing!"

"Sacrifices for the greater good, thousands more will live thanks to the difficult decisions our leaders must make," Varen countered smoothly. "We can't let emotion cloud our judgment."

Lucien's anger flared. "This isn't emotion, it's sanity, it's common sense! Something that seems to be in short supply around here."

"Careful," Varen warned. "You're treading dangerously close to treason."

"Treason?" Lucien let out a bitter laugh. "The real betrayal is sacrificing our people for... what? A few hundred cores ahead of time?"

Mordred intervened, his voice laden with authority. "Enough. Lucien, I suggest you withdraw and reconsider your position. Your accusations are serious and unfounded. I won't tolerate any more insubordination."

Lucien glared at both men, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This isn't over. When the truth comes out, may the System have mercy on you both."

With those words, Lucien turned and left the office, slamming the door behind him.

♢♢♢♢

Mordred and Varen waited a few moments, ensuring Lucien had moved away.

"Impeccable timing, Varen," Mordred said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Varen nodded, allowing himself a small grin. "Thank you, sir. Although I must admit, Lucien seemed more... volatile than usual."

Mordred made a dismissive gesture. "Lucien has always been too sentimental. He doesn't see the bigger picture."

"Speaking of the bigger picture," Varen said, lowering his voice, "what was the final core count?"

Greed glinted in Mordred's eyes. "Hundreds, Varen. In a single day. Our plan exceeded expectations. Though the boy has a point – we can't sustain such drastic reductions."

Varen nodded, pleased. "Excellent. But... Why push the reduction so far? Did elder Estin..."

Mordred chuckled. "Ah, you should have seen his face! '2%?' he shouted. 'Why not 3%?' Before we knew it, we were debating 4% and 5%."

"And in the end, you settled on...?" Varen asked, curious.

"5%," Mordred's smile was all teeth. "Why settle for less when Lucien's strategy is so 'efficient'?"

Their laughter jarred against the recent tragedy.

"And the core distribution?" Varen pressed.

Mordred's frown returned. "That old fool insists on the majority. As if his family outranks ours."

"But you reached an agreement?"

"Equal split, for now," Mordred sighed. "But mark my words, Varen, it won't last. I have... plans requiring additional resources."

Varen nodded slowly. "And Lucien? He seems determined."

"Let him bark," Mordred sneered. "He has no proof, and we control the information flow. Besides," his smile turned cruel, "we can always... adjust his mana allocation if he becomes problematic."

"Risky," Varen cautioned. "Lucien has loyal followers."

Mordred leaned back, eyes glittering with malice. "Everyone does, until they're left high and dry. I've played this game far longer than Lucien. He'll learn his place, or his neck will."

Varen nodded, a similar smile spreading across his face. "As you say, sir. What are our next steps?"

Mordred stood up, walking to the window overlooking the city. "For now, we maintain the pace. Let the people lick their wounds, let them mourn their dead. And meanwhile, we'll prepare for the next... harvest. Most have to die anyway."

The two men fell silent, contemplating the city sprawled before them. A city that, unbeknownst to it, was at the mercy of their greed and ambition.

In the corridors, Lucien strode purposefully, his mind racing. He had no proof, but he was certain the elders would abuse the defenses again. And he was determined to stop them, no matter the cost.

♢♢♢♢

The days that followed were a blur. Elio immersed himself in training, pushing his team and himself beyond their limits. It was easier to focus on physical pain than to face the emotional turmoil within.

Zara tried to reach him, offering moments of respite, but Elio remained distant. He was present physically, but his mind battled unseen demons.

Finally, the announcement of their annual leave arrived.

A week of rest, a respite from the constant struggle for survival. Lucien had managed to get the families to contribute an extra million mana to reduce the risk of breaches during this period, a small victory amid so much loss.

The night before his section's departure, Elio found himself atop the wall once again, contemplating the city he'd sworn to protect. Zara found him there, as she knew she would.

He had been coming to see the view every day lately.

"Home tomorrow," she said simply.

Elio nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah."

"How are you feeling?" Zara probed gently, trying once more to break through the barriers Elio had erected. She wasn't the very best at that kind of thing though.

Elio was silent for a moment before responding. "I don't know. I should be happy to see my family, but..."

"But it reminds you of your father," Zara finished softly.

Elio closed his eyes, pain visible in every line of his face. "Yes. And I don't know how to handle that I'm... I don't know how to face them knowing that... that I'm just like him. That I might fail them one day, for some dumb 'heroic'…"

Zara took his hand, squeezing it gently. "That's not a bad thing, Elio. Your father was a hero, just like you..."

Elio wanted to believe that was a good thing. Part of him yearned to accept those words, to embrace his father's legacy. But the other part, the hurt and resentful part, the part that saw the downside, his own faultiness, resisted.

Luckily he had a way to feel better now…

"I have over 150,000 mana points," he said abruptly, changing the subject. "I could give them a better life, at least until all my siblings grow up... That will make me feel better, if anything happens to me they at least…"

Zara looked at him, surprised by the amount. "That's... amazing, I thought you were miserly but wow. Your family will be overjoyed."

But even as she said the words, Zara could see that Elio wasn't convinced.

Wealth couldn't fill the void his father had left, wouldn't fill the void he could leave, nor resolve Elio's internal conflicts.

"Maybe this break is what you need," she suggested. "Speaking with your family might help you find some peace."

Elio nodded, though without much conviction. "Maybe."

♢♢♢♢

The next morning, Elio found himself at one of the wall gates, ready to depart for home. His team was there, having delayed their own departures to bid him farewell, each offering words of encouragement and support.

"Don't forget us little people while you're living it up, rich boy," Kriz quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"Keep your skills sharp," Ren advised. "You never know when we'll need them to better our chances."

Brok gave him a pat on the back that nearly knocked him over. "Take care of yourself, buddy. Try to relax a bit, yeah? Maybe put on some muscle to feel better."

Micah, ever perceptive, looked at him with concern. "Remember, Elio, it's okay not to be okay. Take the time you need to heal."

Finally, Zara approached. Without a word, she wrapped him in a tight hug. "We'll be there for you," she whispered. "No matter what."

Elio nodded, grateful for his friends' support. With a final glance at the wall that had been his home for the past year, he turned and began his walk back home.

As he walked, Elio's thoughts wandered between past and present. Memories of his father intertwined with recent events, creating a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

He carried with him not only the over 150,000 mana points, but also the weight of his experiences, his losses, and his doubts. How would he face his family? How would he convey everything he had lived through, everything that had changed?

And more importantly, how would he face his father's legacy, now that he understood more than ever the true meaning of his sacrifice?

These questions accompanied him throughout the journey, and though he was heading home, a part of him remained lost, seeking answers he both craved and feared to find.