Soft footfalls echoed through the grand chamber. Everyone held their breath as the presence of a predator settled over them. A voice—cold yet eerily calm—sent chills down their spines.
The footsteps grew louder until a small, slender figure emerged from the shadows.
"Take charge of what?"
Zick flinched. Shock flashed across his face; he had not expected this monster to attend the meeting.
"Have you gone dumb, Zick?" Bram raised an eyebrow, his gaze pinning the trembling young man in place.
Zick nearly drowned under those judgmental eyes, but he forced himself to breathe.
"I–It's nothing important. Just a suggestion, that's all," he muttered, wishing he could disappear.
"Is it because you're a powered elementist?"
Bram stepped toward the podium, stopping directly in front of Zick.
Zick stiffened like a thief caught red-handed. His lean frame trembled, and his expression betrayed every secret he tried to hide.
"W‑what are you implying?" Zick stepped back, his brown eyes dilating as they darted around the room.
If he had known Bram would be here, he would never have come. His hunger for power had blinded him.
His gaze locked onto Bram.
Bram Ashford.
The man who treated his own son like dirt. A man many considered evil incarnate—yet his aura commanded respect. Most hated Bram Ashford, but no one doubted what he was capable of.
Zick fought for composure. He adjusted his blue robes, forcing the madness in his eyes to retreat.
"And what if I am? I'm a water elementist." His voice sharpened, calculating. He knew better than to challenge Bram Ashford, no matter the consequences.
He also knew Bram saw him as nothing more than a tool.
But he was a stubborn tool.
"Are you planning to dissect me to solve the galaxy's crisis?" Zick asked, trying to sound bold, though dread coiled in his stomach. He had a sinking feeling he had walked straight into a trap.
Bram's dead, unblinking stare made the fear inside him rise.
Then Bram's pale pupils shifted away, dismissing him entirely.
"Thank you for your time and patience, everyone," Bram said, his voice echoing with authority. He offered the crowd a warm, almost desperate smile—yet his presence radiated dominance.
"Since the beginning of this strange anomaly, these past months have been exhausting. We've searched tirelessly for a cure. That is why we haven't reached out sooner—we refuse to make promises we cannot keep. We have been seeking powerful individuals whom the Unified Federation believes hold the key to our survival. Individuals who can restore law and order to our galaxy."
Murmurs spread. Stern nods followed. Approval was growing.
But Bram wasn't after their approval.
He was after Zick Kokey—his first guinea pig.
Bram turned to Zick, who had been listening in a daze.
"Zick Kokey of the Left Sequence Faction," Bram said gently, "would you do us the honor of saving our galaxy… our home?"
Zick felt as though lightning had struck him.
Even Kion and his superior understood Bram's intentions.
Some in the room did. Some didn't.
To say Zick was speechless was an understatement. Surely, they wouldn't sacrifice him.
But when he looked into their eyes, he saw only cold calculations.
"Are you willing to save us all, Zick?" Bram's voice softened, now dripping with sympathy—questioning Zick's loyalty, his oath, his future… and his willingness to die for the galaxy.
"You can't be serious." Zick laughed nervously, masking his fear. He had the right to refuse. The right to walk out and never return. No one could force him into this abomination.
Not even Bram Ashford.
He knew morality was fading in these times, but Bram Ashford seemed born with none at all.
Zick swallowed hard and steadied himself. His slender frame trembled, though no one seemed to notice.
"No," he declared, lifting his chin and standing firm.
He knew he had slipped—made a mistake he had never made before.
But he would not let this meeting end with him on a dissecting table.
Bram smiled faintly, harmlessly.
"I'm afraid your opinion isn't valid anymore. The majority carries the vote." He sighed, as though he shared Zick's pain.
"W‑what?" Zick's voice cracked.
What had just happened?
He looked up at the transparent dashboard, and his eyes widened in shock. Numbers surged into the thousands.
The vote on his life had been running for some time, without his knowledge.
Bram turned away—no smile of victory. No gloating. Just cold acceptance. The people were desperate, and he had given them what they wanted.
Even Zick understood that. But why him?
He screamed and kicked as two massive guards seized him, dragging his weightless form from the chamber.
To Bram, this was to appease the masses.
However, he can't deny one fact.
Zick was more useful to him than the failure of his own making.