"Oh, that…" said the being with a casual nod, as though Kallus's request had been a minor detail in a far greater scheme. "You don't have to worry about it, Kallus. Even if you hadn't asked, I would've given you the time."
Kallus blinked, the tension in his chest easing. The being's words—while delivered with that usual cryptic calm—were a clear acceptance.
Fifteen days.Enough time to prepare.To stabilize.To adjust himself and his command before the restrictions fell into place.
But then…
"Because," the being continued, its voice low and strangely final, "the move you're going to make—if I restricted you now, you wouldn't even have a place to cry for."
Kallus stiffened. Relief turned to confusion. Then to unease.
"What move?" he thought, his mind racing.
As far as he knew, his next step was a straightforward one:Push into Minotaur territory.Crush their resistance.Subjugate the survivors. Turn them into a labor force to fuel his rising empire.
