SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 372: A Meeting Between Two Powers [IV]

Chapter 372: Chapter 372: A Meeting Between Two Powers [IV]

Elenara lifted a hand, and with the motion the garden shifted—branches parting, light dimming slightly as if the space itself was drawing inward. When she spoke, it was no longer in abstractions or principles, but in facts.

"They are entrenched in their primary seat," she said. "From the outside, it presents itself as a conventional fortress. Stone walls. Towers. Defensive symmetry meant to reassure observers."

Her lips curved faintly, without humor.

"That image is a lie."

She turned, meeting Valttair’s gaze directly. "The Thal’zar do not inhabit halls. They burrow. What stands above ground is only a shell. Beneath it lies an endless network of tunnels—interlocking passages, chambers, and layered corridors carved over generations. A living warren."

Valttair listened in silence, his expression unchanged.

"We do not possess a complete internal layout," Elenara continued. "No reliable schematics. No accurate maps. The tunnels shift, collapse, and reform over time. Some are reinforced stone. Others are shaped directly from earth and root."

Her fingers tightened slightly at her side. "Which means that once we breach the exterior, we advance blind."

"Inside," she went on, "there will be defensive chambers positioned to slow and divide intruders. Rotating enemy forces. Kill zones designed to isolate small groups." Her eyes narrowed. "Every step forward will be contested."

She took a slow breath.

"Somewhere within that maze," Elenara said, "Kaedor will be positioned. Icarus as well. And the Void Creature."

Not together.

"That much I am certain of," she added. "They will be separated. Each guarded differently. Each treated as a priority asset."

The garden was still now, leaves barely moving.

"Reaching them will not be simple," Elenara concluded. "There will be no clean path. No single strike that ends it all."

She held Valttair’s gaze, unflinching.

"This will be a descent," she said. "And once we enter, there will be no turning back."

Valttair remained silent for several seconds after Elenara finished.

His gaze did not drift to the garden, nor to the living structures around them. It stayed fixed, unfocused, as if the space before him had already been replaced by something else—layers of terrain, pressure points, lines of advance and collapse.

External shell. Burrowed interior. Blind descent.

’Crude on the surface. Tedious underneath.’

"External and internal defenses," he said at last, his voice even, stripped of inflection. "Redundant by design. The exterior is meant to delay. The interior is meant to bleed."

He shifted his weight slightly, hands still clasped behind his back. "Advancing through a structure like that will take longer than initially projected. Even with coordinated pressure, progress will be incremental."

Not a complaint. Just a calculation.

’Time is the real cost.’

"But," Valttair continued, his eyes sharpening as he looked at Elenara again, "the situation is not as unfavorable as it appears."

He tilted his head a fraction. "Your forces already control a significant portion of Thal’zar territory. Supply lines disrupted. Secondary strongholds neutralized."

A pause.

"That reduces their depth," he said. "Fewer fallback positions. Less room to maneuver. Whatever remains of their internal network is now isolated."

’Cornered structures rot faster.’

"The descent will still be slow," Valttair acknowledged. "But not prolonged. Pressure from multiple directions will compress their options."

He met Elenara’s gaze calmly.

"In other words," he concluded, "the maze is large—but it is already shrinking."

Elenara nodded once, slowly.

"That assessment is accurate," she said. "Their collapse did not begin at the core. It began at the edges."

She turned slightly, gesturing toward the outer bounds of the garden as if outlining territory suspended in the air. "The Thal’zar separated their forces early. Earlier than they should have. They attempted to hold too many locations at once, assuming presence alone would be enough."

Her gaze sharpened. "That mistake decided everything."

"The six allied houses advanced one location after another," Elenara continued. "With coordination, but without spectacle. Each strike isolated. Each position removed before the next was engaged."

Valttair listened without interrupting.

"They did not possess the strength to resist us properly," she said. "Not once the scale became clear. Against six houses acting together, their defenses were insufficient."

She paused briefly.

"Many surrendered as soon as they understood what they were facing," Elenara went on. "They chose survival over principle."

Her voice lowered.

"Others resisted," she added. "About half. But only for a short time. Their defenses were raised, contact was made... and then it ended."

Valttair’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"That resistance was not born from desperation," Elenara said. "Some of it felt intentional. As though they needed to be seen opposing us. As though the act of resistance itself mattered more than its outcome."

She let her hand fall back to her side.

"After that, they yielded. One territory after another," she concluded. "What remains now is not a house defending an empire."

Her tone cooled.

"It is a core that allowed itself to be cornered."

Valttair

studied Elenara in silence, not her posture, but the space behind her words—the implications she had already accepted without stating them aloud.

"Kaedor is not the type of leader who would initiate a war like this," he said at last.

His tone was calm, reflective rather than accusatory. "He lacks the disposition for it. He is cautious to the point of stagnation."

He shifted his gaze slightly, eyes distant. "None of the Eight Houses act this way. Not openly. Not without exhausting alternatives."

Elenara did not interrupt.

"For generations," Valttair continued, "conflicts between us have been resolved through leverage and concession. Trade. Territory. Influence." A faint pause followed. "Agreements."

His eyes returned to her. "I reached one myself not long ago. With the Zar’khael family."

The name was offered without emphasis, as if it were merely another data point.

"That matter could have escalated," he went on. "Instead, it ended quietly. As these things always should."

He watched her closely then.

"A leader like Kaedor understands that balance," Valttair said. "He would never gamble his house on open confrontation unless he believed the outcome was already decided."

He let the silence stretch, measured.

"Which suggests," he concluded, "that this war did not begin with him."

Valttair said nothing more.

He did not press the point. He did not explain further. He had not come to convince her—only to observe.