Invincible: Escape from Viltrum

"Really? Such a... laughable answer, coming from you. Honestly, I can't believe it."

"I'm not saying it because I disagree with you, Vexa. The problem is the same." Korr said, before continuing. "No one can take his place, literally we do not have another 'Thragg' to fill the Regent's role. What I mean is that the system of government is designed so that only a Viltrumite like Thragg can dominate the Empire and its challenges. The military, economic, territorial control and everything else, his particular leadership stabilizes the current Empire, which is stuck in an eternal war. Replacing him during times like these would cause internal chaos, weakening an Empire already extremely militarized and reduced if we compare it to the vastness of our territory."

Vexa arched an eyebrow; she had not thought of that, not entirely, especially not in comparison to this cadet who surprised her more every day.

"Oh? How interesting, Korr-add. Tell me more."

Korr smiled, straightened up, stretching his body before continuing.

"I will assume that you are not suggesting a call for rebellion, and that you are merely asking for a 'hypothetical explanation as to why something like that, in present-day Viltrum, would be a terrible idea.'" Korr sat down on the floor, legs crossed, forgetting the punishment for a moment. He asked the girl to sit beside him, where he proceeded to explain.

"This begins with a story, a story I made up, but it will serve as an analogy for what would happen if one day, by chance, hypothetically, a Viltrumite rebellion against Regent Thragg were to break out. This story is called The Fallen Angel.

"Once upon a time... there was a guy, an angel, to be exact, similar to those fellows from the colony of Magnuss, where they have magical appendages with..."

"Feathers on their backs." Vexa interrupted him.

"Yes, like those people. This angel was named Light. He was the most handsome, the smartest, the strongest of all the angels, second only to his own creator. He was the governor of the highest angelic order and dwelled in the direct presence of his creator, administering justice and praise and the balance of the entire domain of that empire and... well. One day that ceased to be the case.

One day, apparently, he felt a strong desire to be like his creator, in the sense that he wanted his throne, he wanted his empire. Somehow he contemplated his own perfection and began to measure his existence and what he did as his own merit. Somehow he became corrupted and fashioned his own throne, with the sole intention of raising it above that of his own creator, to be like the Most High. Somehow he managed to convince many of his lower-ranking companions and gathered an army. He promised them liberation from the hierarchy of their creator, along with a host of other promises that are beside the point. The important matter here is that a third of the beings made by that creator, seduced by the logic of pride and desire and who knows what else, joined him. But it all stemmed from a single logic, I would assume: autonomy.

The confrontation took place on the homeworld of that particular empire. A fellow named Mails, together with the other loyal angels, contended against Light and his hosts. But as the battle progressed, the presence of their creator became unbearable to the rebels, whose nature had become corrupted, and they were cast out like lightning.

Light fell to a land without hope, losing his feathers and his beauty, and ever since, his goal has been to disfigure his creator by ruining everything that seems interesting to him. In order to prove that no creature needs a creator to govern itself. But anyway, the message is not what matters here, but rather the method used to reach that end. This is something we could attribute to an archetype of a revolutionary process, such as Emperor Argall's seizure of power, the rise of the Empire, or the Great Purge. If we take what we know about this Light, we can deduce that, despite his privilege, he suffered from a structural grievance: he was a created being, subject to the sovereignty of his sovereign. Light desired political power that he did not possess and which, quite evidently, did not belong to him.

So he carried out an opinion coup. He sowed 'criticisms of his creator's government' among a third of the angels, presenting his ideas as collective grievances in order to gain sympathies. He promoted autonomy in opposition to absolute authority, becoming a 'hero' among his species. Then, when he felt that he held the greater force, he fought for his sovereignty in an armed insurrection against the 'Throne of his Creator.' He assaulted the established order; however, he lost the war, being cast out like 'lightning.' Now, Instructor Vexa, do you know why he lost? I mean, he was beneath his creator in power, strength, beauty, and intellectual capacity. He had a third of his species under his command, and yet he lost. Why did he?"

Vexa understood what Korr was trying to explain to her.

"He confused influence with sovereignty," she replied, seeing Korr nod.

"He lost because he tried to overthrow the structure that made his own existence possible," Korr emphasized. "Light could gather followers, question the order, and even begin a revolution, but he still depended on the very foundation he was trying to dethrone. He believed that having political support was equivalent to having ontological legitimacy. But an army cannot replace the source that sustains the very existence of the Empire." After finishing, he looked directly at her with seriousness. "Now do you understand why it is a very terrible idea to 'hypothetically' remove Thragg from power? You understand what that would mean for the Empire, right?"

At Korr's question, Vexa remained silent, thinking about everything this cadet had laid before her. However, she smiled with a disconcerting sadism.

"I understand it very well, Korr-add. Fortunately, we are not winged rats, but Viltrumites."

Korr did not know what those words meant, but he found them unsettling, so from that moment on, he would have to measure his words around Vexa. Something told him that this instructor was not planning anything good.

End of the flashback.