Chapter 161: Obsession
He reopened his eyes, and his gaze had become hard as tempered steel. War did not forgive weakness. It did not reward pity. It demanded sacrifices, and he was ready to make them. Those who survived the transformation would become his true soldiers, warriors capable of standing up to dragons. Those who perished... well, they would at least have had a chance to die for something greater than themselves.
- "There is no mercy in war," he repeated to himself, his voice becoming icy and implacable again. "Only the strong survive. And I need the strong."
Rising abruptly from his metal crate, Mordred felt all eyes turn toward him. Training gradually ceased, the hunters instinctively sensing that something important was brewing. There was something in his attitude, in the tension of his shoulders, in the particular gleam of his eyes, that commanded attention.
- "Assembly," he ordered in a voice that carried throughout the room.
They rushed over immediately, abandoning their exercises to form a semicircle before him. Mordred observed them for a moment, noting their faces marked by effort, their bodies glistening with sweat, their questioning gazes. These men and women trusted him. They were ready to die for him. Was he about to betray that trust?
In the front row, Livia stood slightly ahead of the others. This woman had intrigued him since their first meeting. Unlike the others, she didn’t seem to carry the weight of captivity in the same way. Oh, she had her own demons he could see them dancing in her green eyes - but there was in her a thirst, an ambition that went beyond mere survival. She watched him with troubling intensity, as if seeking to pierce all his secrets.
- "Your progress is insufficient," he declared without preamble, his voice resonating in the sudden silence. "Despite your efforts, despite your determination, you remain fundamentally limited by your humanity. At this rate, you will never be strong enough to face what awaits us."
An anxious murmur ran through the group. Marcus frowned, his fists clenching instinctively. Elena brought her hand to the hilt of her dagger, a reflex acquired during her captivity. Gareth ground his teeth, producing that characteristic sound that testified to jaws broken then mended.
- "I can offer you more," Mordred continued, his voice becoming deeper, more hypnotic. "I can give you the power necessary to rival our enemies. But the price will be high. Very high."