(Planet Tithia, The First Elder's POV)

"This is absolutely outrageous! They can't do this to us!

What do you mean they blew up Juxta and destroyed the planet as a whole?

What about our civilians? What about the code of war?"

The First Elder barked, his voice booming across the chamber, as his trembling hand struck the edge of his work table with enough force to rattle the stationary lined across it.

His assistant flinched, clutching the report tablet tighter, sweat beading down his temple as he stammered.

"Th-the reports are unquestionable, First Elder. The Righteous fleet didn't stop with the military bases. They bombed the cities too. Every last one. Civilians, children, artisans… no one was spared. And after the bombardment, they shattered Juxta's core. The planet is… gone."

"Gone?"

The word left the Elder's lips in a hiss, his eyes narrowing, his face pulled into the mask of a statesman enraged, as he slammed his fist again.

"This violates every doctrine ever agreed upon! The Code of War is clear : civilian populations are not to be targeted, planets are not to be annihilated without a chance of evacuation! This isn't conquest, this is genocide!"

His voice cracked into righteous fury, his robes flaring around him as he stood, spittle gathering at the edge of his lips as though his outrage were too great for his body to contain.

But inside—

Inside his stomach twisted into knots.

Because despite his angry reaction, he knew exactly how power worked in the universe, and knew that for all his roaring about codes and honor, none of it mattered anymore.

Not when Charles was dead and Soron was missing, making the Cult a toothless opponent who could not bite back even if they wanted to.

'Screwed…. We are screwed.'

He thought as he felt his throat run dry, his heart thumping in panic, as he realized that he was now stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one side was the Righteous Faction, who had just proven they cared nothing for decency, nothing for diplomacy, nothing even for the universal laws that kept the galaxy from descending into endless anarchy.

For if they could annihilate Juxta, they could most certainly shatter Tithia and even Ixtal.

While on the other side, Charles's speech before his death now left the real power within the Cult in Leo Skyshard's hands, which felt absurd to him, as in his view, children were not fit to bear the weight of empires.

Being a veteran of politics, he knew this truth well : that being caught between an enemy without mercy and allies without experience was a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst rival.

As just thinking about his unfortunate position made his head ache.

"What is Skyshard up to? Do we have any news about his movements?"

He asked his assistant, who immediately began tapping on his tablet to pull up relevant data.

"Yes, according to City Officials, the entire forge district has been emptied on Skyshard's orders, the Blacksmiths and Engineers all loaded on a ship and sent off to an unknown location, in what seems to be a Cult wide phenomenon.

Skyshard has seemingly started a phase wise evacuation of Cult planets, where he is prioritising the movement of highly skilled individuals, and invaluable treasures first.

So alongside the Blacksmiths, he is also emptying the Tithia Central Library and our treasure vaults….."

The assistant reported, as the First Elder's face twitched in disbelief listening to his words.

"He has ordered a phase wise evacuation of Cult personnel, but where is he taking them?

Also, WHY AM I NOT ON THE FIRST FLIGHT OFF THIS PLANET? IF SKILLED PERSONNEL ARE BEING EVACUATED WITH PRIORITY?

Finally….. who the fuck is cooperating with him to pull all this off?

Last I checked I ran Tithia, did I not?

So why are the state libraries and vaults being emptied without my consent?"

The First Elder asked in anger, as he couldn't believe the level of incompetence of his underlings at this moment.

"Tithia is my house…. If Skyshard wants to move a single ship off this planet, he should need my consent for it first.

Get this shit sorted out.

I'm not against cooperating with him, but he must loop me in on what's going on first.

I absolutely refuse to follow him like a blind cattle."

The First Elder instructed, as the assistant bowed and hurriedly took his leave.

—------------

(Meanwhile, Chaosbringer)

Chaosbringer had never felt as overwhelmed with work in his life as he did at this moment, as strewn across his desk were countless work orders that needed to be signed and approved five minutes ago.

Time was of the essence here, and Leo had entrusted him with the responsibility of evacuating tens of billions of Cult civilians, which was definitely easier said than done.

The logistics behind such a move was a nightmare and to make things worse, the Cult had very few 500 million or larger capacity carrier Arc Ships, as over the years, they had only invested most resources behind building military might, while the civilian sector was mostly overlooked.

Hence, to now suddenly evacuate billions without the proper means to do so was extremely hard, and needed him to perform some extremely tough decisions to optimise this complex problem.

*CRACK*

Unexpectedly, his long nail split when he tried to write too fast, its perfect curve ruined in an instant as a bead of blood welled at the edge of his finger.

Sweat trickled down his painted forehead, smearing powder into faint streaks that dragged his carefully applied mascara into crooked lines that cut across his cheeks.

Ordinarily, such a calamity would have made him lose his mind. He would have shrieked, cursed, and probably stopped work to perform a full touch-up before continuing, because tardiness and imperfection were sins he detested more than death itself.

But not today.

Today, the ruined nail and the dripping makeup meant nothing, because the work at hand was heavier than vanity, heavier than pride, and heavier than his obsession with appearances.

"Must not waste a single second…."

He mused, as he pressed his bleeding fingertip against the manifest, smearing a red mark over the names of yet another family struck from the priority list, his jaw clenched as he condemned them silently to a dangerous fate.

He simply did not have enough ships to carry out everyone at once, and hence with every signature he made, he signed a death sentence for a new soul.

"I'll do my best to send the ships back for you if we can…."

He promised, as although he could not help them now, he promised to work hard and come back for them as soon as he could, if fate permitted it to happen.

Until then, he promised to not rest personally, come what may happen to his mental state or his looks.

For this time, saving lives took priority over vanity, even for him.

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