Chapter : 835
She had thought his dream was to build a better healing tool. She now realized, with a sense of dizzying, terrifying awe, that his true dream was to rebuild a better world, and his crystal calculator was not the end-goal; it was merely the first, simple tool he had forged for the monumental task.
“Resources,” she repeated, her voice a soft, wondering whisper. “Power. That is what this is about for you? Not the healing itself?”
He stopped his pacing and looked at her, and for a moment, the coldness in his eyes softened, replaced by a look of weary, profound sincerity. “The healing is the only thing that is about, Sumaiya,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “But I am a pragmatist. I have learned, through a long and painful education, that good intentions are a beautiful and a useless thing without the power to enact them. Compassion cannot build a sewer system. Kindness cannot purify a water supply. Love cannot create a surplus of grain to feed a starving city through the winter.”
“And to do this,” she whispered, her mind finally, inevitably, arriving at the terrible conclusion he had been leading her to all along, “to build this… engine… you need your high-level stones.”
“They are the fuel,” he confirmed, his voice now a low, matter-of-fact hum. “They are the heart of the new technology I will create. They are the key to everything. Without them, all of this…” he waved a hand, encompassing his grand, beautiful vision, “is just a madman’s dream.”
The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She understood now. The Jahl Challenge, the Fire Demon, the suicidal quest for a prize that was meant to be unattainable—it was not an act of noble self-sacrifice for a single, abstract dream. It was a cold, hard, and brutally logical strategic calculation. It was, in his mind, the only viable path to acquiring the capital he needed to launch his one-man industrial revolution.
He was not planning to be a martyr. He was planning to be a conqueror. And the kingdom itself was the territory he intended to claim, not with an army of swords, but with an army of ideas.
The realization was both terrifying and exhilarating. She was in love with a saint who had the soul of an emperor. She was a partner to a healer who had the mind of a god.
Chapter : 836
She looked at him, at this quiet, unassuming man who was calmly, rationally, planning to overturn the entire world order. The last of her fear for him, her desire to protect the gentle doctor, was burned away, replaced by a new, and far more powerful, emotion. It was the fierce, unwavering loyalty of a soldier who has just heard her general lay out a battle plan so brilliant, so audacious, and so utterly, beautifully insane, that she knows, with an absolute, unshakeable certainty, that they are going to win.
“I see,” she said, her voice now as calm and as steady as his own. The debate was over. The decision had been made, not just by him, but by her as well. She was no longer his protector. She was his first and most loyal soldier.
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Lloyd saw the change in her, the shift in her eyes from worried compassion to a new, hard, and gleaming resolve. He had successfully transformed her from a concerned protector into a committed co-conspirator. He had shown her the true, breathtaking scale of his ambition, and instead of recoiling in fear, she had embraced it. Her faith in him was now absolute, not just in the man, but in the mission.
He had forged his perfect advocate. Now, he had to give her a reason to fight.
He turned to her, the fire of the visionary in his eyes now banked, replaced by a look of grim, quiet determination. The time for philosophical debate was over. The time for a declaration of intent had arrived.
“I have seen the suffering in this city, Sumaiya,” he said, his voice a low, steady rumble of conviction. “I have held dying children in my arms. I have listened to the quiet, desperate weeping of their parents. And I have come to a simple, unshakeable conclusion. It is not enough to be a healer. One must be a builder. And to build, one needs tools.”
He took a deep, final breath, a man making a vow before the gods and the single, solitary witness who truly mattered.
“I have made my decision,” he declared, his voice ringing with a quiet, absolute finality that tolerated no argument. “I will officially register for the Jahl Challenge tomorrow at dawn.”
The words, though she had been expecting them, still landed with the force of a physical blow. The abstract, terrible possibility had now become a concrete, imminent reality. The man she… the man she admired… was officially, formally, and irrevocably, walking towards a fiery, almost certain death.
“Zayn, no,” she whispered, her newfound strategic resolve momentarily crumbling back into raw, personal fear. “We… we can find another way. There has to be another way.”
“There is no other way,” he replied, his voice gentle but firm, a quiet, unshakeable mountain of resolve. “This is not a choice made from pride or a thirst for glory. It is a choice made from necessity. It is a calculated risk. The potential reward—the ability to fund the innovations that could save this kingdom—far outweighs the danger to a single, insignificant life. My life.”
He had framed his suicidal vow in the cold, brutal, and unimpeachable language of utilitarianism. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. It was an argument so logical, so selfless, that it was impossible to refute.
“Your life is not insignificant!” she shot back, her voice rising with a passion that surprised them both. “It is the most significant life I have ever known! To risk it, to throw it away on a one-in-a-million chance… it is not a calculation! It is a waste!”
He simply looked at her, his expression one of profound, almost sorrowful, patience. He was not going to argue with her. He was not going to debate. His mind was made up.
And it was in that moment, seeing the calm, unshakeable certainty in his eyes, that Sumaiya knew she had lost. She could not appeal to his logic, because his logic was a cold, hard, and flawless fortress. She could not appeal to his fear, because he seemed to possess none. All she had left was one final, desperate weapon: a truth so terrible, so secret, that she had sworn on her own life never to speak of it.
She took a deep, shaky breath, her face pale in the moonlight. “You think you can win,” she said, her voice a low, trembling whisper. “You think your power, your courage, is enough. You are wrong. You do not understand what that thing in the arena truly is.”
Lloyd’s eyebrow raised slightly. He had detected a new note in her voice. This was not just fear. This was knowledge.