Chapter 13 — A Voice That Doesn’t Ask

Royushi first realized something was wrong when the rooftop felt… empty.

Not quiet.

Empty.

The wind still moved. The Citadel still glowed below. But the familiar presence beside him—the faint pressure, the calm awareness—

Was gone.

“…Rikishu?” Royushi asked.

No answer.

That alone made his stomach sink.

He straightened slowly, circulation tightening on instinct. The night air felt heavier, like it was waiting for permission to move.

Then the voice came.

Not from behind him.

Not from the sky.

From everywhere.

“Royushi Kairo.”

It wasn’t loud.

It didn’t echo.

It was precise—each word landing cleanly, like it had been placed carefully inside his head.

Royushi swallowed. “Yeah?”

A pause.

The kind that measured him.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” the voice continued. “Your mentor would have preferred I didn’t speak yet.”

Royushi’s breath hitched.

“…You know about him,” Royushi said.

“Yes,” the voice replied calmly. “I know him very well.”

The air shifted.

A figure stepped forward from the shadow cast by a ventilation structure at the edge of the rooftop.

He wasn’t imposing.

That was the worst part.

Sevran Axiom looked like an ordinary man—dark coat, composed posture, eyes sharp but not cruel. He could have passed for an instructor. A diplomat. Someone forgettable.

Except the pressure around him was absolute.

Royushi’s circulation shuddered.

“Relax,” Sevran said mildly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“That’s comforting,” Royushi muttered. “Everyone who says that ends up lying.”

Sevran smiled faintly. “You’ll find I prefer efficiency to deception.”

Royushi shifted his stance. “Where’s Rikishu?”

Sevran’s eyes flicked briefly—briefly—to the empty space beside Royushi.

“He withdrew,” Sevran said. “He knows better than to speak when I do.”

That sent a chill down Royushi’s spine.

“So,” Royushi said slowly, “you’re Sevran.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like a villain.”

Sevran tilted his head. “That’s because I’m not.”

Royushi snorted. “Bold claim.”

“I’m not here to claim you,” Sevran said. “I’m here to explain to you.”

The pressure intensified—not crushing, but undeniable.

“You are wasting potential,” Sevran continued. “Not in the way children waste time. In the way nations waste resources.”

Royushi clenched his fists. “I’m not a resource.”

“That,” Sevran said gently, “is where we disagree.”

Royushi felt anger rise—but beneath it was something worse.

Recognition.

“You circulate Shuryoku without output,” Sevran went on. “You suppress growth deliberately. You fail strategically. You do not leak.”

Royushi’s jaw tightened. “You’ve been watching.”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Long enough to know you’re afraid of being owned.”

Royushi froze.

Sevran stepped closer, boots silent against stone.

“Rikishu taught you how to choose,” Sevran said. “I teach people what happens when they don’t.”

Royushi looked away. “You force them.”

“I assign them,” Sevran corrected. “Chaos wastes lives. Structure saves them.”

“You call that saving?”

“I call it preventing worse outcomes.”

Royushi laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You sound just like the Citadel.”

Sevran nodded. “The Citadel learned from me.”

That landed hard.

“You’re the reason he left,” Royushi said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

Sevran considered the question.

“No,” he said. “But I respect his choice. That’s why I waited.”

Royushi’s eyes snapped up. “Waited for what?”

“For you.”

The night felt smaller.

“You didn’t choose Rikishu,” Sevran said. “He chose himself. But you—”

Sevran’s gaze sharpened.

“You are unfinished.”

Royushi’s circulation flared instinctively.

Sevran raised a hand—not to attack.

To still the air.

“I am not offering mentorship,” Sevran said. “I am offering clarity.”

“Which is?”

“You will be noticed,” Sevran said. “By the Citadel. By enemies. By people who will not ask permission.”

Royushi swallowed.

“I can protect you,” Sevran continued. “I can place you where your potential is maximized and your losses minimized.”

“And the cost?” Royushi asked.

Sevran’s smile was thin. “Consent.”

Royushi stared at him.

“That’s not consent,” Royushi said. “That’s ownership with nicer words.”

Sevran didn’t deny it.

“You don’t get to pretend this won’t happen,” Sevran said. “You don’t get to hide forever. Rikishu is delaying the inevitable.”

Royushi shook his head. “He’s giving me time.”

“Yes,” Sevran agreed. “And time ends.”

Silence stretched.

Royushi felt it then.

Rikishu’s presence.

Not visible.

But there.

“Say what you came to say,” Royushi said quietly.

Sevran studied him one last time.

“When the Citadel offers you a position,” Sevran said, “remember this conversation.”

Royushi frowned. “What position?”

Sevran turned away.

“You’ll know.”

The pressure vanished.

The night rushed back in all at once—wind, sound, distance.

Rikishu’s hologram reappeared beside Royushi, faint but solid.

“…You okay?” Rikishu asked.

Royushi let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“That was earlier than expected,” Rikishu said.

Royushi looked at him. “He’s not wrong.”

“I know.”

Royushi clenched his fists, then relaxed them.

“But he’s not right either,” Royushi added.

Rikishu’s lips curved slightly. “Good.”

Royushi looked out over the Citadel.

“He didn’t threaten me,” Royushi said.

“No,” Rikishu replied. “That’s how you know he’s dangerous.”

Royushi exhaled.

“Guess hiding’s over.”

“Yes,” Rikishu said. “Now comes choosing.”

Royushi nodded slowly.

Below them, lights flickered.

Above them, the stars remained unchanged.

And between them—

A path had just been named.