Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 308: Meeting

The private meeting room had been hastily converted from a classroom in one of the few intact buildings.

Stone walls still showed scorch marks from essence techniques gone wild during the attack. The windows were covered with temporary barriers of crystallized essence.

A long table dominated the center. Around it sat figures of considerable power and influence, their expressions ranging from exhausted to furious.

CRACK!

A hand slammed onto the table’s surface with enough force to splinter the wood.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The voice belonged to a man who stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid with barely contained fury.

Archbishop Valen Solarius.

He seemed to be in his late fifties, with black hair silvering dramatically at the temples.

His face was all sharp angles and severe lines, handsome, cold, perfect, utterly without warmth.

Silver eyes that seemed to reflect light rather than absorb it swept across the assembled officials with withering contempt.

He wore pristine robes of gold and white. Not a speck of dust.

His presence here was significant. The Theocracy of Lioren Kingdom, ruled by the Archpriestess herself, didn’t send representatives lightly. And Valen wasn’t just any representative. He was one of the Archpriestess’s direct appointees, carrying authority that transcended normal diplomatic boundaries.

Across from him, Headmaster Ferran White looked like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours.

His hands trembled slightly as he clasped them on the table.

"Archbishop Solarius," he began, his voice rough with exhaustion and grief. "I can only offer my deepest apologies for this... this catastrophic failure. The security we had in place were supposed to be—"

"Supposed to be?" Valen’s voice cut through the explanation like a blade. "What kind of security allows hundreds of demonic entities to simply waltz onto Academy grounds, Headmaster? What kind of defensive formations can be so easily bypassed that corrupted creatures roam freely through dormitories filled with children?"

He leaned forward, palms flat on the table, his eyes boring into Ferran with uncomfortable intensity.

"You reassured us. You guaranteed that nothing could breach Phoenix Academy’s defenses." His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "And yet here we are."

Silence fell over the table.

The other occupants, a mix of senior Academy faculty and Church officials, shifted uncomfortably. No one wanted to speak, to draw that withering attention onto themselves.

Duke Garran Rithvale sat to the Headmaster’s right. He’d spent the past hours coordinating rescue operations and hadn’t slept since arriving. Blood still stained his formal robes despite attempts to clean them.

Professor Helena Vash occupied another seat, her usually theatrical demeanor completely absent. She stared at her hands, which wouldn’t stop trembling.

Beside her, Professor Marcus Thorne had his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles stood out in sharp relief. One arm was bandaged, and burn scars marked the visible parts of his neck.

On the Church’s side, three officials flanked Archbishop Valen.

Bishop Cassian Morvayne, younger, maybe forty, with brown hair and intense green eyes. His white and gold robes were less ornate than Valen’s but still pristine.

Sister Elara Dawnbringer, a woman in her thirties with blonde hair pulled into a severe bun. Her expression was carved from ice, showing no emotion whatsoever.

And Father Gregorius Vale, elderly, with pure white hair and kind eyes that currently held no kindness at all.

Valen straightened, his hand leaving the cracked table surface. He turned slightly, gesturing toward the door, where two figures sat in chairs just outside the room, visible through the partially open entrance.

Lyria and Seraphine Luminous.

Both showed signs of the battle they’d survived. Lyria had bandages wrapped around her head, covering what must have been a nasty wound. Her left arm was also bandaged, and the way she held herself suggested broken ribs underneath her clothing.

Seraphine’s golden eyes were dim with exhaustion, her usual bright energy completely drained. Her right arm was in a sling, and bandages peeked out from beneath her collar.

They sat together, Lyria’s head resting on Seraphine’s shoulder. Waiting. Not participating in the meeting, but required to be present.

Valen’s gesture toward them was precise, accusatory.

"I specifically mentioned," his voice was quiet now, controlled, "that nothing should happen to them. Didn’t I, Headmaster?"

Ferran’s face went pale. "Archbishop, I—"

"The Saintess of Lioren," Valen continued. "Seraphine Luminous. A figure of immense importance to the Archpriestess herself, sent here as a gesture of trust between our nations."

He paused, letting that sink in, then his gaze shifted to Lyria.

"And her. Lyria Luminous. A... special case. Someone whose safety isn’t just a matter of courtesy, but of necessity. Someone that multiple kingdoms, including your own military, have vested interests in keeping intact."

"Do you understand what their injuries represent, Headmaster? Do you comprehend the political ramifications? The Archpriestess personally entrusted them to this institution. Your kingdom’s own military command had arrangements regarding Lyria’s protection. And yet here they sit, wounded, traumatized, having survived an attack that should never have reached them."

Duke Garran shifted in his seat, his expression troubled. "Archbishop, with respect, the attack was unprecedented. Demonic forces on this scale haven’t manifested in the capital region in over a century. No one could have—"

"That is precisely the point, Duke." Valen’s attention shifted to him. "If the threat is unprecedented, then defenses should have been prepared for unprecedented scenarios. The Academy claims to protect the kingdom’s future leaders. It should have contingencies for worst-case situations."

He looked back at Ferran. "Instead, what did we see? Chaos."

"The demons—" Professor Thorne started, his voice rough.

"Were only part of the assault," Valen interrupted. "Yes, we’re aware. Elite demonic entities. Coordinated attacks across multiple locations."

He turned back to face the entire table.

"Which brings us to the real question. Not just how this happened, but why. What was the objective? What were they after?"

Silence.

Then Duke Garran spoke quietly. "We don’t know yet."

Valen’s expression didn’t change, "Useless."

Garran’s jaw tightened.

Headmaster Ferran’s shoulders sagged. "What would you have us do, Archbishop?"

Valen studied him for a long moment.

"The Church will be conducting a full investigation into the Academy’s security protocols, defensive formations, and response procedures. We will be interviewing faculty, staff, and surviving students. We will be examining every aspect of how this catastrophe was allowed to occur."

"Archbishop, that’s—" Duke Garran started.

"Non-negotiable," Valen finished.

Headmaster Ferran looked at him, then sighed. "We’ll cooperate fully with your investigation."

"You will." Valen straightened, adjusting his pristine robes. "This meeting is concluded."

He turned toward the door, his Church officials rising to follow.

As he passed Lyria and Seraphine, he paused. Reached down and placed a gentle hand on Seraphine’s head.

Then his hand moved to Lyria’s head, but the touch was different. More clinical. Assessing. Like checking inventory that needed to remain functional.

"The Church protects what matters," he said quietly. "Come."