I was not used to waiting for political decisions.
In battle, everything is direct. You observe, analyze, and act. In the council hall of the Kingdom of the Cyclopes, things worked differently.
The king had warned me that the nobles were gathered. The stone was not just an ancient artifact. It was a symbol of lineage, authority, and continuity. Handing it over, even temporarily, was not a simple decision.
Even so, I needed to hear with my own ears the direction of that discussion.
I did not participate in the formal meeting. That would have been disrespectful. But I was authorized to remain in the antechamber, a wide space of dark stone, with pillars far too tall even for common cyclopes. From there, the voices echoed through the main corridor.
It was not difficult to understand the tone.
They were divided.
Liriel remained beside me, serene posture, stable presence as always. Her aura of light was contained, but perceptible. Against demons she was devastating. There, in a political hall, she simply observed.
Rai'kanna crossed her arms, expression firm. As princess of the demi-dragon kingdom, she understood better than anyone there the weight of a royal relic.
Vespera kept her gaze attentive, as if she were analyzing not only words, but hidden intentions.
Elara was quiet, but I knew her silence. She was processing every detail.
Lyannis, at my right side, listened with absolute attention. Her strategic mind was valuable in moments like that.
The voices rose.
"Handing the Ancestral Stone to a foreigner is an unacceptable risk."
The sentence echoed firmly.
Another replied.
"He is not just a foreigner. He is the man who completed a Rank S Dungeon that no one else managed to finish."
Brief silence.
"That does not guarantee he will return with the artifact."
Rai'kanna tilted her head slightly.
"They are right to be suspicious," she murmured.
"Yes," I replied quietly. "I would do the same."
A third voice, deeper, interrupted.
"If the Fourth General truly is immortal, and if there is any chance that this stone can break that bond, denying help may mean condemning not only Vaillo, but all kingdoms."
The discussion was not emotional. It was logical. And that made everything more serious.
Some nobles defended the preservation of tradition above all else. Others were thinking about the larger scenario.
Liriel spoke softly.
"They do not fear you. They fear losing something that represents their history."
"I know."
There was no resentment in me. Only understanding.
Another voice stood out.
"And if the stone does not work? We will have exposed our greatest symbol for a hypothesis."
Lyannis answered before I said anything.
"They are right again."
"Yes," I agreed.
Elara finally spoke.
"But the real question is another."
I looked at her.
"Which one?"
"If this war reaches the Kingdom of the Cyclopes, will they be prepared to face an immortal general without this gamble?"
The silence that followed in the antechamber reflected the same thing that was probably happening inside the hall.
It was not a matter of pride.
It was collective survival.
The voices intensified again.
"We cannot act based on rumors."
"It is not only rumor. Scarlet is a reliable source."
"Reliable for Vaillo. Not for us."
I took a deep breath.
Scarlet was not there, but her information had traveled far enough to cause political fractures in another kingdom.
Vespera gave a slight smile.
"They respect strength. And you represent strength."
"I don't want them to yield out of fear," I replied.
"It is not fear," she said. "It is calculation."
The debate continued for long minutes. Perhaps hours. It was difficult to measure time in that environment of stone and echo.
At a certain moment, the king's voice rose above the others.
"Silence."
The authority was not aggressive. It was natural.
The sound diminished.
"We are not discussing tradition versus pride. We are discussing strategy versus inertia."
The pause was long.
"The Fourth General does not belong to a single territory. If he advances, he will not respect borders. If there is even a fifty percent chance that this stone will be useful, we must consider the risk."
My gaze remained fixed on the closed door.
He was not defending me.
He was defending the logic of survival.
A noble responded firmly.
"And if he fails?"
"Then the stone will return. And we will have learned something."
Another retorted.
"And if he does not return?"
The king's answer was immediate.
"Then we will not be alive to regret it."
The silence that followed was different.
It was not doubt.
It was weight.
Rai'kanna breathed deeply.
"He placed the decision in the field of inevitability."
"Yes," I replied.
Lyannis added.
"He is morally pressuring the undecided."
The discussion returned, but now in a more contained tone. There was no longer direct confrontation. There was gradual alignment.
A noble spoke.
"If it is granted, there must be conditions."
Another agreed.
"Supervision. Defined deadline."
The resistance was giving way.
Not out of sympathy.
But out of coherence.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
I was not there to conquer an artifact.
I was there because I needed any advantage possible.
And even so, I knew it might be useless.
Fifty percent.
That was the reality.
Elara stepped closer.
"If they refuse, what will you do?"
"I will continue preparing."
"Without the stone?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
There was no miraculous alternative plan.
There was only continuation.
After a few more minutes, the voices gradually diminished.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The door of the hall opened.
A cyclopean officer appeared, posture rigid.
"The council is still deliberating. But the majority has already taken a position."
I kept my gaze steady.
"Against or in favor?"
He did not smile.
"In favor. With conditions."
A light silence spread among us.
It was not celebration.
It was confirmation that the political pressure had tilted the balance.
Rai'kanna uncrossed her arms.
"It was the most probable result."
"Yes," I replied.
Liriel gently placed her hand on my arm.
"Now the responsibility increases."
She was right.
If the stone failed, I would not only be the man who tried.
I would be the man who took an ancestral symbol into an uncertain battlefield.
Vespera looked toward the corridor.
"They yielded because they understood that the risk of not acting is greater."
"And now it is up to me to prove they were not wrong," I replied.
The officer turned toward the interior of the hall.
"The final decision will be announced tomorrow, after formalization."
I nodded.
There was nothing more to say at that moment.
As we moved away through the stone corridor, I felt the weight of that achievement in a different way.
It was not victory.
It was borrowed trust.
Elara walked beside me.
"Did you expect greater resistance?"
"Yes."
Lyannis replied.
"They were rational. That helps."
Rai'kanna added.
"But some are still against it. Don't deceive yourself."
"I know."
The sky of the cyclopean kingdom was beginning to darken when we left the palace. The surrounding mountains reflected the last glow of the sun.
I observed the colossal city below.
Wide bridges.
Massive towers.
Silent strength.
They were betting on me.
Just as I was betting on that stone.
Fifty percent.
Maybe less.
Maybe more.
But now, it was not only my bet.
It was the bet of an entire kingdom.
And I could not waste it.
As the dry wind passed between the stone structures, a certainty formed with more clarity than before.
If the stone fails, I will still fight.
But if it works,
the Fourth General will finally have something he cannot ignore.
And tomorrow, the official decision will transform that political pressure into real responsibility.
I was ready to accept it.