"To the weak, what is power? To the righteous, what is power? And to those who live for the sake of others, or for the sake of a particular goal... what is power?" Silas asked.
Everyone instinctively turned to Kallen, their curiosity piqued.
To their surprise, he seemed just as absorbed in the question as they were. He clung to it like a parasite, refusing to let go.
A child his age should have been stumped, struggling to grasp its depth. The fact that he was even attempting to decipher it was commendable. They gave him credit for that. However, none expected him to produce an answer. Intelligence alone wouldn't suffice. This was a question that demanded experience, something he simply hadn't lived long enough to possess.
Silence stretched on as they observed him, waiting for him to admit defeat. But Kallen remained still, deep in thought, stubbornly refusing to yield.
Five minutes passed. Then, finally, he spoke.
Their ears perked up, expecting a concession. Instead, they were met with something else entirely.
"To the weak," Kallen began, his voice calm yet contemplative, "power might be a means of survival, a beacon of hope, a star to change their bleak destiny. Among the collectively weak, it might be their method of existing and coexisting—using counter-hegemony to thrive under the influence of a hegemony, navigating the control of the strong above them."
"To the righteous; or rather, the hypocrites, it is a tool to uphold their moral justice, their judgment, and their sense of morality. A means to cast verdicts upon the practical and the pragmatic, especially in this dog-eat-dog reality we live in."
"And to those who live for something or someone; I suppose power is a tool to prove their worth, to provide value. A foolproof method to achieve the goal that defines their existence. If taken to the extreme, it becomes the path to peace... or even freedom."
A stunned silence followed as Kallen finished speaking. Almost everyone stared at him with dumbfounded expressions.
"WHAT?! HOW?!"
The questions echoed in their minds like relentless drumbeats.
Silas raised his brows in surprise, a certain light flashing in his eyes. The small smile on his face stretched just a little wider.
"I'm impressed, to say the least," he said, his tone still amicable. "And I'll say no more. I think your answer speaks more to you than to anyone else here. You should ponder on it... it sounds tailor-made for you, especially coming from you."
Kallen's eyes trembled fiercely.
Then, an oppressive silence fell over the hall.
Breaths hitched. Some nearly choked on their own saliva.
A second later, a malevolent aura crashed down like a tidal wave, thick with danger, suffocating in its intensity.
It was directed at Silas.
Yet, he only leaned back in his chair, maintaining his relaxed pose.
Everyone turned their gazes between Lyra, whose aura had darkened into something terrifying, and Silas, who sat unbothered, as if he had done nothing at all. Their expressions wavered between uncertainty and disbelief.
Silas was bold. Recklessly so.
They all knew he was the closest to Luiz among their generation, but this? This was taking it too far.
Perhaps he was riding on high horses now, emboldened by his two supremely talented sons. Perhaps he was preparing to go the extra mile in the battle for the Patriarch position.
Because no matter how brilliant Kallen was, in the end, power decided everything. And that was the one thing he did not have.
Everyone knew Kallen's greatest weakness—his inability to awaken naturally.
For someone as supremely gifted as he was, still being unable to awaken at seven was unheard of. Luiz himself had awakened at four, a record matched only by Atticus and Alita. Most others had awakened at five, with the twins achieving theirs a day before their sixth birthday.
Silas' words just now had been subtle, but they were a dagger aimed straight at that weakness.
Even Luiz had a light frown on his face.
Silas hadn't just spoken carelessly; what made it worse was, the timing of those words. It made the attack a whole lot more potent.
He had chosen to drop that line, right after Kallen's answer, right at the peak of that moment when astonishment, recognition, and admiration should have settled in.
However, It was all wiped clean.
Like dust brushed off a table before it had the chance to settle. Erased before it could leave any lasting impression in their hearts and minds.
It was nothing short of dehumanizing. A venom-laced strike, concealed within a smile. A subtle yet ruthless act of mockery.
"Say, Kallen, do you think power alone is enough?"
A woman's soft voice rippled through the air, dissolving the tension—and yet, paradoxically, deepening it at the same time.
It was the same woman who had found Kallen's actions earlier both amusing and oddly satisfying.
As silence stretched in the wake of her question, Kallen took the moment to steady himself. To clear his mind.
Then, he spoke quietly.
"On one hand, power alone is never enough. But without power, a man is nothing but a slave, or even worse... a corpse."
His voice was calm and succinct.
"On the other hand, enough for what, exactly?"
His gaze lifted, meeting hers with a frigid coldness in his reflective blood pools for eyes.
"Power is not a means to an end…" His eyes, like crimson glaciers, swept the across the room with indifference.
"...Absolute power is the end." He concluded locking gazes with Silas, who still wore a small, amicable smile.
Those words descended like a decree, like an immutable truth. It felt like he wasn't just giving an answer; it was a proclamation. A warning in a certain sense.
And the weight of it settled heavily on the room.
Because if, despite everything that transpired today, he was the one who held absolute power in the end, in the future, what would be the point of all these shenanigans?
All it would take was a single stroke of luck to shift his fate. And while none of them were naïve enough to fall for the childish delusion of if, the unsettling reality was that as long as the chance existed; no matter how minuscule, no matter how improbable, it was still a possibility.
They couldn't help but reassess him.
From this meeting alone, two things had become glaringly evident about Kallen's nature.
One; he was fiercely ambitious, pragmatic, and carried a sharpened cynicism far beyond his years.
Two; he was insufferably arrogant. Not the empty, reckless kind, but the measured, deliberate kind. The kind that only those with the right to be arrogant possessed.
Atticus' eyes remained fixed on Kallen, his gaze unreadable as countless thoughts churned in his mind.
"I was wondering what kind of monster you might be, but it seems you're either still hiding your hand, or you're only this shallow. Raw intelligence without the cunning to wield it is wasted talent. And I refuse to believe that this is all you amount to. I want to know what you are, Kallen."
His words were barely a whisper, his thoughts slipping past his lips, yet fortunately, no one had heard it. The other children, were too enamored, each with their own judgments and conclusions about the boy sitting before and above them.
And then, for the first time since the tension had fully settled, Luiz spoke.
"From this point onwards, Kallen Koa Luiz Crimson, you have received the mantle of heir to the Patriarch's throne." He paused.
"You have spoken beautifully, but words alone do not define your position in this family. You must live up to your standards as a Crimson and as an heir. Show us the power to provide value that you speak of."
Silence stretched in the wake of his decree.
Kallen gave no response, but beneath the reflective surface of his crimson eyes, a dark light flickered like embers. Although he had been putting up an act with his actions the entire time, Silas had just managed to crawl his way into picking his nose.
No one protested. Or rather, no one dared to.
While Silas had launched a subtle yet venomous attack, it had, in turn, forced Lyra, and possibly even Luiz, to reveal their hands. At this point, hiding behind diplomatic pleasantries to disagree, would be nothing short of an open provocation.
Naturally, a lot of them were dissatisfied. However, unless they were ready to be on Lyra's bad side, which automatically means standing against Luiz as well, none would dare to bring it up again.
A few subtle glances shifted toward Silas, suspicions growing. Was that his intention all along?
Yet his expression remained infuriatingly composed, that same small, amicable smile playing at his lips. He didn't seem to have any reaction to Luiz's abrupt decree.
Luiz did not linger on the moment any further.
"We will now proceed with the usual meeting." His voice carried finality as he turned to the rest of the gathering.
Then, shifting his gaze back to Kallen and the other children, including Alita, he uttered the words that marked the end of their presence in this hall.
"You're dismissed."