Silas had never doubted their eventual compliance.
In the shadow of overwhelming force, men and women of their stature were ruled by two things: self-preservation and naked ambition.
The only real question was which of them had the spine to become the pillars of his new order.
Silas pinned them with his gaze.
“The art I used to override your nervous systems belongs to the Mentalist Path; a discipline built entirely upon the authority of Will. Across the True Universe, countless paths exist, but the Mentalist Path was forged by my own hands. I am its Path Ancestor.”
The assembly listened without moving a muscle, hanging on every word.
“What I did today is not some unattainable miracle,” Silas continued.
“It is a science of the soul that every single one of you can master under my instruction.”
For the first time, Roan’s stoic mask slipped.
His eyes sharpened with intense calculation.
He leaned in, asking bluntly, “What is your price for teaching us?”
“Your absolute allegiance,” Silas said.
“Not a worthless political treaty, but a binding soul oath sworn to the True Universe. In exchange, I will not treat you as common thralls. Seven among you will earn the right to carve out sovereign domains beneath my seat. You will become my continental generals when Earth steps into the stars.”
Roan’s brow furrowed.
“Explain the core benefits of your path, and how it stacks against the other forces in the cosmos. You can execute me for asking, but if all you want are mindless puppets, you do not need people like us.”
A subtle tension shifted across the faces of George, Victoria, Paul, and Qi Feng.
None of them spoke, but their alignment with Roan’s demand was unmistakable.
They needed answers before signing away their lives.
Silas did not strike Roan down.
Instead, a broad grin broke across his face.
This is the caliber of leadership I need.
Brainless slaves were cheap across the cosmic slave markets.
Silas had no use for obedient cowards; he needed ambitious rulers who possessed the courage to demand terms even under the threat of execution.
“The benefits are absolute,” Silas said.
“What you felt earlier was merely the passive weight of an awakened entity over raw mortals. Listing every known path in the cosmos would take a hundred years but know this: my Mentalist Path can trade blows with the supreme lineages of the True Universe. Walking it will grant you transcendent combat capability and lifespans measured in centuries.”
The word lifespan hit the aging leaders like a physical blow.
“Earth has nine years and eleven months before its protective barrier collapses,” Silas said.
Roan’s expression hardened.
“And that deadline is why you claim our civilization is doomed?”
“Yes,” Silas answered without hesitation.
“This world is completely unprepared. To say you are unready is a massive understatement. Compared to real Path Worlds, Earth is in the worst state imaginable.”
Roan frowned, genuine confusion showing through his composure.
“Is our technology truly that useless? If machines fail in the True Universe, what is our fatal flaw?”
Silas shook his head.
“Technology is not your salvation. It has been your poison. In the Lesser Zone, a world’s primary shield is its spiritual foundation and planetary core. Every mortal advancement must be rooted in the planet’s native energy. Yet for two hundred years, you have choked your skies with hydrocarbons, stripped your resources bare, and poisoned your own biosphere.”
His eyes chilled.
“Restoring this planet falls to me from this day forward. I do not expect you to master cosmic metaphysics before sunset. What matters right now is simple: the Path provides power and long life. In time, I will distribute the baseline manuals to every human being on Earth, but you leaders are receiving the first opportunity.”
“Does that not contradict itself?” a European president asked carefully.
“If the path is eventually handed to everyone, where is our advantage?”
“There is no concept of equality in the True Universe,” Silas said.
“Your advantage is time, direct guidance, and supreme authority. I will teach you the initial refinement today, but only seven of you will survive the trials to claim the seven continents.”
Roan locked eyes with Silas.
The Russian leader needed no further convincing.
“Then Russia has no more questions,” Roan said, sitting up straight.
“Give us the technique. We will carry out your instructions to the letter.”
If you’re enjoying the story, consider adding it to your library.