'Even without using my items…' he thinks, eyes flicking briefly to the still-flickering monolith above. '…I can take those two down. Easy.'
Lathar exhales, then steps forward, closer than before. There's something different in his voice now—not suspicion. Not anger. But a sharp, quiet fear.
"You must be eyeing our continent."
Alix tilts his head, his expression unreadable.
"Promise me," Lathar says. "Promise me you won't become the next Astram. Promise me you won't enslave, conquer, or burn."
The wind whistles faintly as the sky cracks further above them.
And Alix answers—firmly, without pause.
"Of course."
He speaks with no theatrics now. Just a steady, grounded truth.
"I don't find joy in enslaving others. And I won't oppress those under me."
He looks down—not with superiority, but with certainty.
"My people aren't my tools. They're my strength. I won't rule through fear. Not like Astram."
