"..Professor Robin," after what felt like an eternity of silence — more than ten minutes where even the faint hum of the hall's energy conduits seemed louder than breath — the man with the gazelle-like horns finally spoke, his brows drawn tight, voice low but cutting through the stillness:

"You set the duration of the Mutual Defense Pact to only ten thousand years. Are you implying... that the cosmic war you keep talking about will happen within that time?"

"...?" The others slowly emerged from their deep contemplation, their eyes turning toward Robin with mixed anticipation and unease, waiting for his response.

"Yes," Robin replied simply, nodding with unflinching seriousness. The certainty in his tone sent a ripple of tension through the air.

"Can you at least give us more information about it?" asked the woman wearing the feathered crown, her tone urgent. "We can't make decisions of this scale without understanding the scope of what we're walking into."

"I cannot," Robin answered bluntly, waving one hand dismissively. "All you need to know is that it's close — very close. It will not take ten thousand years to erupt. When it does, none of you will have the luxury of choice. You will be drawn into it... inevitably. That's all the truth you need for now."

"Who else is part of this alliance of yours?" another emperor demanded, his voice taut with skepticism.

"For now..." Robin tilted his head slightly, gaze unwavering, "...only you."

"Us?!" The gazelle-eyed man almost shouted, gesturing wildly as his temper flared. "You expect to win a cosmic war with just us? How do you even plan something like that?"

"Hey—" Robin's tone sharpened as he raised his voice and jabbed a finger toward him, "a moment ago you didn't even know such a war was coming! Today we begin with you, and tomorrow the horizon widens. Others will join once the pact is announced; that's how all great tides start — with one wave."

"...."

Silence swallowed the room again.

Beads of sweat rolled down the foreheads of the five planetary emperors as they exchanged tense looks.

If they accepted this pact, they were effectively placing the fate of their entire empires, the countless souls under their ruling — in the hands of a man they had only met today.

And yet... if what he said about the bloodline enhancement technology was true and they can wide spread it— then implementing it among their people could secure their dominance for millennia. Their strength could double, perhaps triple within a few centuries!

BAA!

Robin clapped his hands together suddenly, the echo booming through the hall like thunder. "While you're busy weighing your fears," he said with a sly smile, "allow me to offer something else — a secondary proposal. Consider it... a little side offer." He leaned forward slightly, his tone almost teasing. "Tell me — have you heard of the Wing System adopted by Marshal Aro?"

The green-skinned elder snorted and waved a hand dismissively, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't bother wasting your breath. If you think any of us would ever serve as your wings, you're delusional."

"I'll speak my piece regardless," Robin replied smoothly, not even glancing at him. He placed both hands over his stomach in a gesture of composure and authority. "For those unfamiliar with the Wing System, let me enlighten you. It's a remarkably flexible structure of allegiance — one that allows each participant to continue ruling their planets, their citizens, and their treasuries in full. Even the planetary resources would remain under your administration, untouched. The Grave Empire would simply purchase them — fairly — in exchange for Pearls or other valuable resources."

A low murmur of skepticism rippled through the emperors.

"In other words," Robin continued calmly, "you remain entirely as you are — sovereign, autonomous. The only change would be in the title: your empire becomes a Wing. The final say in major interstellar affairs would belong to the Grave Empire's central command. And of course, in times of external crisis, the Wing would be obligated to heed the call to war."

"...." The hall went quiet again. The words drifted through their ears and vanished without sinking in.

Such an offer might have tempted small kingdoms — two or three-planet empires desperate for protection or trade — but for them? The Five? Titans of the mid-sector? It was unthinkable.

Robin, however, was not finished.

He leaned forward with a faint, knowing smile. "Frankly speaking, this system was designed for rapid expansion and survival — to endure the storm that's coming," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "But you're right... as it stands, it doesn't suit rulers of your caliber."

Then his smile widened, the edge of mischief glinting in his eyes.

"So tell me — how about we make a few adjustments... and turn the whole idea into something far more interesting?"

"First—" Robin's voice grew heavier, resonant, almost ceremonial. "Whoever among you becomes a Wing will not merely be restricted from spreading the bloodline enhancement technique or applying it only to his people. No… I will grant him the second tier of that technique, a refined evolution of the method itself — one that influences even beings on the level of World Cataclysms and beyond."

He extended a hand toward the grand doors of the chamber. "You all witnessed it yourselves — that Garajnakh managed to strengthen his lineage by a mere 0.5% using a version meant only for the young. Now imagine… what would happen if I crafted one designed specifically for you — the rulers of worlds, the elders of empires, the mighty among the mighty?"

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, his tone sharp as a blade.

"The second tier is already complete, and I have it right here with me. Whoever accepts will receive it immediately." He then raised a single finger, his expression turning severe. "And listen carefully — this is an exclusive privilege reserved only for the Wings. Do not attempt to trade, replicate, or include the second-tier technique in any other negotiation or treaty. If you do… the price will not stop at half your dominion — it will consume it entirely."

"....."

This time, the silence that followed was not of disinterest but of cautious thought. None dared to scoff. Each emperor's gaze deepened, brows furrowing as calculations and ambitions flashed behind their eyes.

Robin had already offered the students two paths: one — a technique that allowed them to bypass the natural density of their bloodlines, replacing biological limitation with pure energy and enlightenment through law comprehension; and another — a method that increased blood density by fusing with other soul creatures through intricate, deliberate means.

The first tier alone could rewrite the destiny of entire civilizations — so what, then, could the second unleash?

"Second," Robin continued smoothly, his voice flowing like controlled flame, "your factions will be supplied with waves upon waves of epic-grade armaments — legendary armor, Note fleets, divine arrays, and every hallmark of the Centennial Grave Empire's military might — all without cost or condition. You may use them as you wish, to strengthen your own legions, to reclaim lost territories, or to establish new strongholds. Yes — your armies will remain yours, your banners will still fly above your own skies. Becoming a Wing does not mean the death of your sovereignty; it marks its evolution."

".....?"

Several exchanged glances, unable to conceal their unease.

"And further," Robin said, his tone rising again, now edged with excitement, "should any of you conquer additional worlds while serving as one of our Wings, those planets will remain entirely under your rule, no different from the worlds you already control. You may join with a hundred planets, but if you expand — by force, by cunning, or by strategy — and claim another, even if aided by the Grave Empire's fleets or weapons, that new world shall belong solely to you. One hundred will become one hundred and one, then two hundred, then a thousand. Grow as much as your ambition drives you — we will not place a ceiling above your reach."

He leaned forward slightly, voice deepening into something colder, yet more thrilling.

"We will protect that ambition. Because whoever dares to strike at you will, in doing so, declare war on the Grave Empire and all its Wings. So go forth — expand, devour, and conquer freely."

"........"

The hall had gone utterly still; not a single whisper could be heard. Even the smallest movement carried the weight of dread and awe.

"Third," Robin went on, "in addition to full administrative control over your worlds and the continuous supply of free armaments, I will allocate to each Wing a direct grant — one hundred million energy Pearls every century. Use them to expand your dominion, strengthen your economy, and enrich your treasuries. In merely one millennium, that amounts to a billion Pearls."

He let the number hang in the air. "Tell me, then — how many millennia have passed before you? And how many billions rest in your vaults now?"

".........?!"

At that, even the most stoic among them broke their composure. All thoughts of the mutual defense pact vanished entirely.

Not because they had suddenly accepted the idea of becoming Wings — such subservience was still an affront to their pride — but because the magnitude of the benefits was beyond reason.

Empires that had stood unmoved for eons now trembled at the thought of what was being offered.

Robin was not finished.

"Fourth and finally," he said, his tone softening into a dangerous calm, "the vassalage as a Wing will last only ten thousand years. After that, the pact dissolves naturally. You may separate from us entirely, and your independence will be fully restored. There will be no hostility, no grudge, no retribution. You will leave with your original planets, with every new world you conquered under our banner, with every fleet and all epic-grade weapons we provided."

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that both soothed and unsettled.

"And as a final gesture — I will personally guarantee you five hundred years of absolute peace after your departure."

"............?!?!"

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