Chapter 124
"Let us be patient for a moment. Let us see what information they intend to bring—an important issue that is said to be worthy of reaching only the ears of the Satanist leaders. Then, we will determine our next course of action."
The negotiation did not take place in the form of a lively discussion.
It was not filled with overlapping voices.
It was not colored by heated debates as had often occurred in previous meetings.
The negotiation unfolded in prolonged silence.
In exchanged glances without words.
In small nods that were barely noticeable.
In breaths held tightly so as not to disturb the concentration of their leader.
Zhulumat Katamtum sat at the center of the circle with his eyes half-closed.
And everyone present knew that behind those not fully shut eyelids, thousands of scenarios were spinning at a speed no one could follow.
They knew their leader was considering every possibility.
Weighing every risk.
Calculating every step to be taken.
Trying to see ten, even twenty steps ahead of the decision he would soon make.
And they all waited.
Resigned.
Not daring to interrupt.
Not daring to speak.
Not even daring to move too forcefully.
Because they understood that what was happening inside Zhulumat's mind was far more important than any words they could utter.
When those eyes finally opened completely, when the vacant gaze that had been piercing through the walls returned to focus on the circle before him, everyone in the room felt the tension gripping their chests tighten further.
Zhulumat began to speak.
His voice was no louder than a whisper, yet it carried a penetrating force that made each word feel like a hammer striking an anvil.
Each syllable etched directly into memory.
Each pause between words felt like an eternity no one had asked for.
He instructed—not with a harsh commanding tone, not with an intimidating voice—but with something far more terrifying.
Calmness.
Silence.
Unquestionable certainty.
He instructed every captain of Team Xirkushkartum present in the meeting.
Everyone who had been silently listening to his words.
To wait.
To hold for the moment.
To give space.
To refrain from acting prematurely.
To allow the envoys from the Xirkushkartum team not under his command to arrive.
To let them deliver what they intended to say.
To let the urgent news reveal itself without being forced out too soon.
"Respect to Zhulumat Katamtum."
Thud!
"Forgive us, Most Exalted Zhulumat. Allow us to return to our assignment at the outermost border of the City of Thalyssra, a territory under the protection of the Great Sanse."
They did not arrive with the thunder of thousands of footsteps.
Not with the clamor of troops returning from the battlefield.
Not with shouts of joy or cries of victory.
They came in near-perfect silence.
In orderly lines, though not tightly packed.
In formations that showed they had gone through far too many battles to still require instruction on how to walk or stand.
At the front, walking with steady steps though unhurried, were several Satanist adherents belonging to Team Xirkushkartum not commanded by Zhulumat Katamtum.
Their faces were neither unfamiliar nor known.
They did not evoke hostility.
Nor did they inspire trust.
They stood at the blurred boundary between "them" and "us."
A boundary that had suddenly become difficult to define.
And behind them, following at a distance neither too close nor too far, were most of the members of the Anti-Rumble Formation who had just returned from the border.
Their eyes were still red from holding back sleep.
Their bodies were stiff from standing guard too long in the same position.
Their minds were still filled with the image of the envoys who had emerged from the darkness carrying a map they had never possessed.
When both groups finally reached the threshold of the meeting chamber, when their feet stopped at a point that needed no words yet was understood by all as the final line they could cross, the silence that had accompanied them grew heavier.
Denser.
More suffocating.
Like a blanket of lead placed upon the shoulders of everyone present.
The captains of Team Xirkushkartum who had been seated in the circle stiffened once more.
Their muscles prepared for whatever might come next.
Their minds still churned, processing the flood of information they had just received.
Zhulumat Katamtum himself remained seated.
With the same posture.
The same unreadable expression.
The same gaze fixed upon a single point among them.
Revealing nothing.
Neither expectation nor concern.
Then, without command.
Without signal.
Without any instruction heard by anyone, those who had just arrived moved simultaneously.
Members of the Anti-Rumble Formation.
The Satanist adherents of Team Xirkushkartum not under Zhulumat's command.
All of them performed the same movement at nearly the same moment.
As if invisible strings had been pulled at once.
Their right hands rose and were placed upon their chests with open palms.
Facing inward.
Toward the heart.
Toward the center of life they had long risked for beliefs they did not always fully understand.
Their left hands rested behind their backs, fingers straight and aligned.
Straight as an unbroken line.
Tight as a brotherhood that could not be shattered even by the fiercest storm.
Their heads bowed slightly.
Not too low to appear submissive.
Not too high to appear arrogant.
But precisely at the point that, for centuries in their tradition, had been regarded as the perfect gesture of respect toward the supreme leader.
Five seconds.
Perhaps ten.
Perhaps time itself had stopped.
Leaving only a frozen motion within that suffocating meeting chamber.
Zhulumat Katamtum sat without moving.
Without showing whether he accepted the gesture.
Or whether his thoughts were elsewhere entirely.
His dark eyes stared straight at the Satanist adherents of Team Xirkushkartum not under his command.
Trying to read from their posture.
From the way they stood.
From the rhythm of their breathing.
Whether they came as allies.
Or as enemies in disguise.
Whether they brought peace.
Or betrayal wrapped neatly within a flawless gesture of respect.
The captains seated in the circle did not dare move.
Did not dare breathe too loudly.
Did not dare shift their gaze even for a fraction of a second.
Because they all felt that what was unfolding before them was a historic moment.
A moment that would be told for generations if they survived this day.
Or a moment that would stand as silent witness to their destruction if this turned out to be a trap they had never anticipated.
To be continued…