Chapter 115: Benevolant Prince
Seated in front of the main control unit of the flying vessel, Nioh’s gaze was unblinking, focused entirely on the grainy transmission unfolding on the central display. The interface glowed dimly, bathing his pallid features in an eerie bluish light. He sat in complete stillness—composed, but with a sharp, coiled tension that permeated the air around him.
"The electric bees are about to make contact with Biohive 81 in five minutes," X reported, scrolling through real-time readings. "Should we deploy?"
He was standing slightly behind Nioh, tablet in hand, his posture tense but professional.
Nioh didn’t answer immediately. His red-tinged hair fell slightly over his brow, shadowing his hollow eyes. He studied the incoming swarm, lines of erratic movement flickering across the screen. After a moment’s pause, he slowly shook his head.
"No," he said. His voice was cool, almost dispassionate. "If we intervene before the damage begins, they’ll never truly understand the value of what we’re doing."
X opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could say anything, the echoing crack of metal against metal rang through the chamber. Akron, who had been standing silently at the doorway, had driven his fist hard into the frame, the dent a clear message.
The room fell into a thick silence.
Nioh turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder at his old companion. Their eyes met — and for a brief moment, something flickered in Nioh’s expression. A quiet sigh escaped his lips. The tension in his shoulders loosened slightly, as if just Akron’s gaze alone had pulled him back from whatever mental cliff he’d been teetering on.
These past two months had changed him.
Drastically.
Nioh’s methods had grown more brutal, his decisions more surgical. Cold. Calculated. He no longer flinched at collateral damage. He no longer lingered on moral questions. His ascension in public perception had come with a cost — the insidious influence of the corrupted energy he had absorbed was intensifying, seeping into his soul like black ink into water. It whispered to him. Stirred envy. Fanned old desires. Fed his growing ambition.