SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 488: The God of War [III]

"Indeed."

The declaration lingered in the air, heavy and stagnant.

Trafalgar kept his eyes locked on Dravok, anticipating more, yet the veteran remained silent. He merely sipped his drink slowly, as if those few words carried the full weight of the truth.

Trafalgar’s gaze sharpened. "And?"

Dravok lowered the glass back onto the table. "And I refuse to tell you."

A profound silence took hold of the room.

Rhosyn flicked her gaze toward him. Caelvyrn didn't shift his position, yet the intensity behind his eyes subtly altered. Vivienne remained perfectly still near Dravok, appearing entirely unsurprised by the direction of the conversation.

Trafalgar held his focus steady. "You know their location, yet you intend to keep it hidden."

"Exactly."

"For what reason?"

Dravok reclined in his seat, arm resting idly near the table’s edge. "Because if either of us were to step before them now, our heads would likely be severed before we uttered a single sentence."

The atmosphere in the room tightened instantly.

Trafalgar kept his tone composed. "Define your meaning clearly."

Dravok studied him for a heartbeat, gauging how much he had already pieced together versus what required elaboration.

"You understand the meaning perfectly well," he finally said. "Rhosyn has already shared enough. To most of them, you are merely the spawn of a traitor. The heir to the woman who helped drive our kin to the brink of annihilation. Your bloodline alone will not shield you from their prejudice." Dravok pressed on before the silence could stifle the room.

"As for myself, I am held in no higher regard." His expression remained impassive. "I am a man who deserted his clan in its darkest hour, a general who simply vanished, a survivor who prioritized his own survival over his people's fate. I have been branded a traitor in more ways than I care to recall."

Rhosyn’s hand gripped her sleeve tightly.

After letting the words settle, Trafalgar questioned, "Why then, did you seek an audience with me?"

"Precisely because of that," Dravok answered, meeting his eyes. "I needed to witness what kind of man had been forged from that lineage. The son of that woman. The son of Magnus du Morgain. I had to know if you were merely a name echoing from the past or someone truly deserving of my attention."

Trafalgar draped his arm over the table. "So, reaching the others would be futile."

"Correct," Dravok replied. "At this juncture, it would resolve very little. In fact, it might even lead to your demise long before you have the chance to achieve your potential."

The blunt reality of his words was undeniable. Trafalgar had spent a great deal of time moving toward this lineage without truly grasping its bleakest truths. Dravok had just laid one bare. Being connected to the Primordials was a far cry from receiving a warm welcome from their remnants.

Dravok’s eyes flitted toward Vivienne for a moment before returning to Trafalgar.

"She spoke to you about it, didn't she?" he asked. "About the Void Creatures."

Trafalgar offered a brief nod. "She did."

Vivienne briefly cast her eyes down before looking up once more.

Dravok clasped his hands together near his glass. "Excellent. We can skip the preamble then." His voice remained hushed, yet its gravity had shifted. The discourse had moved past the petty grudges and old betrayals toward something far more expansive—a looming threat that pressed on all of them, regardless of their desires. "This is part of the true reason I requested she bring you here."

Caelvyrn chimed in at last.

"So, we are finally approaching the meaningful portion of our discussion."

Dravok shot him a glance. "Every word carries meaning."

"True enough," Caelvyrn conceded, "but this explains why a fallen war god would bother to return to the world of the living."

For the first time since the conversation turned grave, a shadow of a smile touched Dravok’s lips.

"Yes," he admitted. "This is that part."

Dravok rested his fingertips against the glass momentarily before continuing.

"The seal our bloodline once fortified with such sacrifice is finally failing."

The revelation pulled everyone at the table toward him.

Trafalgar remained focused. "Which seal?"

"The barrier constructed to hold them at bay," Dravok explained. "The one purchased with the lives and blood of our people—the very last thing they had to offer. It has stood longer than anyone dared dream, but it is no longer intact. Fissures have appeared. Time has taken its toll, as have other factors."

Vivienne lowered her gaze again. Caelvyrn remained mute.

Trafalgar leaned forward inches. "How much time remains?"

Dravok shook his head slowly. "That is uncertain. If fortune favors us, perhaps a few decades. If not..." He paused, stating it with chilling clarity. "The worst-case scenario is ten years. One decade at most."

Rhosyn stiffened. "Ten years?" Her voice was a mere whisper, laced with shock. "That is nothing. In the face of such a disaster, that is barely a heartbeat."

"It is indeed fleeting," Dravok said. "Far less time than we would require in an ideal world. But ideal worlds have never concerned me much."

A brief, heavy silence blanketed the room.

Trafalgar spoke then, his tone level despite the sudden weight bearing down upon him. "The Eight Great Families are just emerging from war. The world is barely reconstructing itself, and you suggest that within a decade, something even worse may arrive."

Dravok held his stare. "Yes."

"One decade."

"Yes."

Trafalgar tapped his fingers on the table. "Most people would consider that a lifetime."

Dravok’s mouth twisted bitterly, devoid of warmth. "For people like us, it is merely a blink of an eye. Regardless, it is the only margin we possess."

Beside him, Vivienne’s hand coiled tightly around her glass. She had sensed enough unease to be worried, but laying the truth out in such cold numbers gave it a terrifying new form. It was no longer a vague apprehension; it was a deadline.

Rhosyn understood it as well. "Is that why you commanded her to find him?"

"In part," Dravok acknowledged.

Trafalgar looked from him to Vivienne and back. "And what are we expected to do with this revelation? From my perspective, we are severely limited in our options."

"On the contrary," Dravok interjected. "You have immense potential—provided you receive the proper support."

Trafalgar kept his silence.

Dravok stared at him intensely. "You are the heir to our bloodline, whether the others choose to acknowledge it or not. Furthermore, you are no longer some forgotten child sequestered in a dying household. You are recognized. Your name carries weight. People are discussing you, watching you, and testing themselves against you."

Caelvyrn emitted a faint, thoughtful hum but allowed him to proceed.

Dravok’s voice was firm. "This provides a significant advantage, but it prohibits careless action. You cannot play the role of a wandering survivor or a relic of a fallen kingdom any longer. Over these next ten years, Trafalgar, you must ascend."

Trafalgar’s expression remained stoic. "Ascend to what?"

"To a station above them all."

Dravok continued, "Above every member of the Eight Great Families. Above their heirs, their monsters, their shadowy assassins, and their carefully cultivated prodigies. I refer not just to raw combat strength, but to status, influence, and the reach required for your voice to dictate the flow of events rather than being drowned out by them."

Rhosyn listened, motionless.

Dravok never broke eye contact with Trafalgar. "If the seal shatters, brute strength will not be enough. You will need authority. The kind that can move nations, not just dispatch enemies in your path."

Trafalgar waited a moment before asking, "Do you truly believe I can achieve that state in ten years?"

Dravok’s conviction did not waiver. "I believe you must."

Trafalgar exhaled sharply through his nose. "That sounds less like counsel and more like a death sentence."

"It is a trajectory," Dravok corrected. "A path only worth offering to one capable of navigating it."

Caelvyrn’s small, cynical smile returned. "Now, that sounds like the man I once knew."

Dravok ignored him, focused entirely on Trafalgar. "The calamity approaching this world remains indifferent to your age. It will not care that the Great Families are struggling to recover, nor that the academy still has lessons to impart, nor that this generation demands its monsters be polished and refined. If we are granted ten years, every single one must be utilized to its absolute limit."

Trafalgar tapped the wood once more before his hand went still. "And you intend to assist in this endeavor."

"I do," Dravok confirmed.

Rhosyn inclined her head toward him. "All these years you remained in the shadows, yet now you re-emerge because the seal fails and he has finally stepped into the light."

Dravok turned his attention to her. "Yes. That essentially covers the truth."

Vivienne swallowed hard before whispering, "Master, where do we actually begin?"