Chapter 803 Conversation III

Chapter 803 Conversation III

n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

As Seraphina's gaze remained fixed on the ever-shrinking cube of spatial energy enclosing her, her mind raced to find a way out. Each potential solution she considered was swiftly dismissed, as the very nature of the spatial mana neutralized most forms of intervention. Any attack powerful enough to breach the shield would inevitably trigger a reaction within the enclosed space, one that she could not escape in time.

Her immunity to attacks powered by her own energy was an advantage, but it had its limits. The consequences of her own strikes—shockwaves, residual energy, and other aftereffects—were not covered by that immunity. If she unleashed an attack strong enough to escape, the ensuing chaos within the confined space could inflict devastating harm upon her. The risk was unacceptable, as the damage would leave her vulnerable to Aron, who was unlikely to miss the opportunity to exploit her weakened state.

For the first time in her life, Seraphina found herself cornered—not by raw strength, but by calculated precision. The shrinking walls of the cube were relentless, and her options dwindled with every passing moment. Despite her pride and her warrior’s spirit, the stark reality of her predicament was becoming undeniable. If she acted recklessly, she might survive, but she would be battered, broken, and utterly at Aron's mercy.

Her mind churned with frustration, the weight of her position bearing down on her as the cube closed in further. It wasn’t fear that coursed through her veins but a seething anger, tempered by a reluctant acknowledgment of the genius behind Aron’s trap.

With a frustrated huff, flames briefly flared from Seraphina's nostrils before she began to undergo her metamorphosis. Her towering draconic form started to contract as she shifted into her humanoid form, the one that occupied the smallest possible area.

Her scales, which had been standing firm like armor, began to retract. They tilted outward, revealing the gaps between them as her exposed skin tightened and contracted. The once-massive body began shrinking visibly, the volume decreasing with every second. Smoke wafted from her form, curling into the air before being drawn back into her body.

Seraphina regarded him with a faint sneer. “That may be your human way of communicating, but in our society, there’s no such thing as a conversation between the strong and the weak—only orders from the strong and obedience from the weak. Conversations are reserved for equals or kin other civilizations or individuals from them have to earn it.”

She reached for her own cup, attempting to mimic Aron’s actions. However, her grip, honed by the raw strength of her draconic form, proved too powerful; the delicate handle of the cup snapped instantly. She froze for a moment, her expression betraying a hint of annoyance. But before she could say anything, the nanomachines repaired the handle in seconds. She tried again, and by her third attempt, she had finally adjusted her strength to the fragile nature of human-made objects. Yet, her triumph was short-lived. Upon taking a sip of the tea, her face twisted in visible disgust, and she spat it out.

“This is vile!” she declared, her tone a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

Aron nearly quipped, “Like how you were ordered to abandon your freedom by the stronger elder?” but thought better of it. Forcing himself to set aside his inclination for sharp retorts, he responded with measured restraint instead.

“This is our first time accommodating an alien civilization,” he explained, his voice calm. “We don’t yet have knowledge of your cuisine, tastes, or preferences, but rest assured, that will change. You won’t have to worry about starving to death.”

His attempt at humor was met with a blank, serious stare from Seraphina. It was clear that sarcasm and levity weren’t going to bridge the cultural gap just yet. Recognizing the futility of small talk, Aron decided to cut straight to the point.

“I have a very simple plan,” he began, his tone calm and deliberate, as if discussing a mundane chore. “To take full and complete control of the Astral Conclave. And for that to happen, I must first take over the Xor’Vak civilization.”