The golden dining hall gleamed like a jewel cut into the mountain's heart. Shadows curled at the edges of the light, where the droids stood still as statues. The smell of roasted meat and sweet fruit lingered heavy, but Elara had lost her hunger. Her fists tightened on the table as her eyes bore into the man sitting across from her.
Midas lounged in his throne-like chair, one hand resting lazily on the gilded armrest, the other cupping a goblet of wine. His golden hair shimmered with the faint glow of the chandeliers above, his eyes radiant.
Elara's voice was low but firm.
Elara: "I saw a name in your files. Saphir IX."
For the first time, Midas didn't immediately smile. His fingers tapped the goblet, once, twice. A tiny crack ran across the stem.
Elara pressed on, her voice trembling now.
Elara: "That was… the labor. Where I—where they—" She gritted her teeth. "Where I was turned into a thing to be cut apart and studied."
Midas swirled the wine slowly, watching the liquid catch the light. His smile returned, soft and measured.
Midas: "Saphir IX… yes. A place of creation, of ambition. But also, a place of suffering. An empire's curiosity left unchecked."
Elara's nails dug into her palms.
Elara: "And what do you know of it?"
Midas's gaze locked with hers. He said nothing for a long moment, but his silence was enough. Her stomach twisted, the answer clear in his stillness.
Elara (quietly, trembling): "You were there."
The silence stretched. Finally, Midas leaned back, setting the goblet down with a faint clink. His smile deepened, calm and almost kind.
Midas: "I was everywhere. The King in Gold always is. In fact, I was one of the three scientists that founded the lab."
Her heart hammered in her chest, but she refused to look away. Rage burned through the cracks of her fear.
Elara: "Then why? Why destroy the lives of children? Why strip us apart for your… your obsession with power?"
Midas chuckled softly, shaking his head.
Midas: "Obsession? No, Elara. Purpose."
He stood now, slow and deliberate, his golden robes whispering across the floor as he approached her side of the table. The chandeliers seemed to dim in his shadow.
Midas: "You ask why I experimented, why I tested, why I created? Because the world itself is sick. It festers in greed. Power. Wealth. Lust. The Golden City was proof."
He stopped beside her, leaning slightly, his eyes glowing down at her.
Midas: "Do you know what happens when every man has all he could ever want? When gold flows like rivers, when palaces rise higher than mountains?"
Elara swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady.
Elara: "They become greedy."
Midas's smile widened.
Midas: "Yes. They rot. They tear at one another like dogs fighting for scraps, even when their bellies are full. Their hearts blacken, not with hunger, but with greed. And so…"
His tone sharpened, his voice like steel wrapped in silk.
Midas: "I killed them."
Elara's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
Elara: "What…?"
Midas's smile was almost serene.
Midas: "Every citizen of the Golden City. Every noble, every merchant, every beggar fattened on gold. I buried them beneath their own riches. I turned their greed into their tombstone. Do you understand now, Elara? Evil is not some demon clawing at our gates. Evil lives in man's heart."
Elara's fists shook.
Elara: "That's not saving the world. That's slaughter."
Midas tilted his head, unbothered.
Midas: "Slaughter of the rotten is mercy. A purge. The world cannot heal while parasites feed on it."
Her voice cracked, but her anger steadied it again.
Elara: "And Henry? Why do you need him? What does his awakening have to do with any of this?"
Midas's eyes blazed brighter. For the first time, a flicker of true passion sparked in his tone.
Midas: "Because the Heavenly Awakening is not mere power. It is divinity given form. The light of Heaven itself, wielded in mortal hands."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper like a priest delivering a sermon.
Midas: "With that light, I can finish what I began. Not to rule. Not to conquer. But to cleanse. To strip this world of its greed, to burn out the rot, and leave only purity behind. A world reborn."
Elara stared at him; horror and disbelief were etched across her face.
Elara: "You think you're saving the world… but all you're doing is killing it."
Midas straightened, turning back toward his throne, his golden silhouette shining in the dim light.
Midas: "I am not killing the world. I am saving it from itself. And Henry Dreherg will be the key. Willingly or not."
Elara's chest tightened, her rage boiling over.
Elara: "You won't touch him."
Midas laughed, a soft, chilling sound.
Midas: "You think you can stop me? Child, you sit here breathing only because I allow it. Do not mistake my hospitality for weakness."
In the halls below, Henry fought with renewed fury. He smashed another droid's chest open with a blazing punch, sparks showering. His body ached, his fists were bloodied, but he pushed forward.
Henry blurred into a streak of blue light, weaving through volleys of molten beams as if he were starlight itself, every fist that landed shattering droids into fragments that rained across the corridor like dying stars, yet for every machine he broke, five more emerged from the shadows, their faceless helms catching the glow of his Heavenly Awakening like mirrors of an endless tide, and still he pressed forward, teeth gritted, blood dripping from his lip, every heartbeat pounding with the singular thought that Elara was somewhere above in danger, and nothing—not gods, not armies—would stop him from reaching her. Every step he took was for Elara.
Henry (panting): "Just hold on. I'll get you out of there…"
The palace shuddered above, as if even the stones themselves responded to Midas's growing will. As if Midas didn't want Henry to enter the banquet hall, not yet.