Yesterday, 01:00 AM
Nikolai studied Nox with unreadable eyes, fingers still resting lightly atop the data drive as if it were a loaded weapon. In many ways, it was. There had been no alarm. No panicked security response. No Nine bursting in through the hidden entrance. The fact that none had come was a silent acknowledgment. He had assessed the threat and chosen not to call for response. And Nox had not pressed the advantage. Smart. Perhaps someday he would learn to fully trust Nox, but maybe he would never trust anyone.
He listened carefully as Nox spoke. About the deal. About survival. About who else knew. The unspoken layers beneath those words weren't lost on Nikolai: trust, fear, calculation. Nox had played his card face-up, but not without the quiet implication that more were tucked away in his sleeve. Still, it was the last thing he said, the description of what it meant to be severed. That held Nikolai’s focus.
The words rang like a tolling bell. Not poetic, but real. And painfully useful. He leaned back slightly, the polished chair whispering against the smooth floor, and let the silence stretch. Let the weight of the implications settle like dust across the office.
A weapon. That’s what this was. But unlike any before.
Until now, their only answer to rogue channelers had been death. Swift, efficient, permanent. Even imprisonment carried risks and resources. And if they someone was severed completely, it would have been irrevocable.
But this… this opened a door. Reversible severing. The ability to remove someone’s power. Temporarily or permanently, and control if and when it was given back.
It changed the rules. And if managed correctly, it changed everything.
He tapped the drive once with his finger. A light sound.
“This is going to save lives. Not just in the way you might imagine.” He looked up at Nox, eyes sharper now. Less the politician, more the strategist.
The words weren’t sentimental. They were practical. Dead men couldn’t learn. Broken men couldn’t serve. But a channeler who could be disarmed, and later restored, was a tool. A deterrent. A lesson.
“But it must be regulated,” Nikolai continued, voice tightening like a drawstring. “Closely. No rogue elements. No underground miracles. This kind of knowledge, in the wrong hands, could undo everything I've built to keep the world safe.” Yet as he spoke, he realized that if Nox could stumble upon these circumstances, eventually someone else would too. Nikolai must be in control of the entire world before that happened.
“I’ll have this analyzed by people I trust. If it holds up, and I believe it will, I'll move carefully. Quietly. But make no mistake…” He fixed Nox with a gaze that weighed as much as the Kremlin’s walls. “You’ve just changed the world.”
Then, with a hint of dry amusement undercutting the gravity: “…Not bad for someone who sat here not long ago, ready to die.”
He reached for a comm tab and tapped a silent notification through. Then leaned back again.
“Now. Tell me about this slow death you mentioned... and why it’s still better than the Horde.”
He listened carefully as Nox spoke. About the deal. About survival. About who else knew. The unspoken layers beneath those words weren't lost on Nikolai: trust, fear, calculation. Nox had played his card face-up, but not without the quiet implication that more were tucked away in his sleeve. Still, it was the last thing he said, the description of what it meant to be severed. That held Nikolai’s focus.
The words rang like a tolling bell. Not poetic, but real. And painfully useful. He leaned back slightly, the polished chair whispering against the smooth floor, and let the silence stretch. Let the weight of the implications settle like dust across the office.
A weapon. That’s what this was. But unlike any before.
Until now, their only answer to rogue channelers had been death. Swift, efficient, permanent. Even imprisonment carried risks and resources. And if they someone was severed completely, it would have been irrevocable.
But this… this opened a door. Reversible severing. The ability to remove someone’s power. Temporarily or permanently, and control if and when it was given back.
It changed the rules. And if managed correctly, it changed everything.
He tapped the drive once with his finger. A light sound.
“This is going to save lives. Not just in the way you might imagine.” He looked up at Nox, eyes sharper now. Less the politician, more the strategist.
The words weren’t sentimental. They were practical. Dead men couldn’t learn. Broken men couldn’t serve. But a channeler who could be disarmed, and later restored, was a tool. A deterrent. A lesson.
“But it must be regulated,” Nikolai continued, voice tightening like a drawstring. “Closely. No rogue elements. No underground miracles. This kind of knowledge, in the wrong hands, could undo everything I've built to keep the world safe.” Yet as he spoke, he realized that if Nox could stumble upon these circumstances, eventually someone else would too. Nikolai must be in control of the entire world before that happened.
“I’ll have this analyzed by people I trust. If it holds up, and I believe it will, I'll move carefully. Quietly. But make no mistake…” He fixed Nox with a gaze that weighed as much as the Kremlin’s walls. “You’ve just changed the world.”
Then, with a hint of dry amusement undercutting the gravity: “…Not bad for someone who sat here not long ago, ready to die.”
He reached for a comm tab and tapped a silent notification through. Then leaned back again.
“Now. Tell me about this slow death you mentioned... and why it’s still better than the Horde.”