In the span of four introductions, Azrail had expertly navigated four vastly different personalities—a strategist, a scholar, a general, and an artist—leaving each one with a tailored, deep impression that focused entirely on their greatest strength while subtly validating their deepest internal insecurity. He had established himself not as a pupil or a prize, but as a polymath of perspective who could speak every necessary language.

Gakoria, who had watched the entire interaction with narrowing eyes, now steered him firmly toward the central divan and sat him down beside her. She picked up a floating cup of amber nectar.

"My, my," Gakoria said, taking a slow sip. "You certainly have a gift for language. Four very different women, yet you found the perfect key for each one. We all feel quite... seen, wouldn't you say, ladies?"

The question was rhetorical, delivered with a smile that barely crinkled the corner of her eye. She attempted to collectivise the attention Azrail had atomised, pulling the focus back to her leadership.

"One must always be prepared to communicate effectively," Azrail replied smoothly, taking the opportunity to gesture respectfully toward his host. "Especially when speaking with those of superior wisdom and experience, like yourself, Lady Gakoria. The key is to know which currency they value most. General Rix values truth; Lady Vex, the unseen variable; Lady Thorne, the lost context; and Lady Nyx, the soul's geometry. Simple taxonomy, really."

He had just publicly categorised them like specimens, showing his control, yet he had wrapped the whole thing in a layer of profound respect for Gakoria, effectively naming her the one who valued the highest currency: mastery over all of it.

The General gave a small, almost imperceptible scoff of appreciation, and Eris Thorne leaned forward, clearly intrigued by Azrail's taxonomy. Gakoria, however, felt the leash slipping and decided to apply direct pressure.

"Taxonomy," she repeated, her smile hardening. "Yes. We've all done our own little taxonomy on you, DeathMark. You are a fascinating specimen, especially given your connection to Hera. But you see, DeathMark, when we look at you, we see an unverified variable. A talent, yes, but one without a traceable lineage. We know you are a 'Special Admission' from a minor sphere, and that you have yet to disclose the specifics of your species. My taxonomy, for instance, places you in the 'potentially useful, highly unstable, possibly low-caste' category."

'A sophisticated way of asking what species I am and wanting to know more about me'

The air dropped ten degrees. The veiled hostility, which Azrail had predicted from the moment he realised she was a racist, was now nakedly exposed. She had used her position and the momentum of the gathering to force the issue. She was attempting to shame him into revealing his origins, which, in a society obsessed with cosmic bloodlines, would immediately dictate his worth and limits.

A lesser individual would panic, plead, or lash out. Azrail merely settled deeper into the plush seat, letting the accusation hang in the air for exactly three seconds.

"Lady Gakoria," Azrail began, his voice still calm, but now carrying a sharp, resonating undercurrent that was impossible to ignore. "Your assessment is flawlessly accurate, given the data you possess. And that is precisely the point, isn't it?"

He leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough to make the others strain to hear, drawing them closer into his orbit.

"The greatest asset in this Faction—the single thing we all truly crave—is not an element, not a starship, not even a title. It is an information advantage. And right now, my lack of known species, my unknown origin, my untraceable heritage—that is the most powerful piece of information I own."

He locked his gaze onto Gakoria's single eye, his hidden smile widening.

"If I were merely a generic, high-caste, predictable being, would I have been able to provide such an accurate, singular assessment to Lady Nyx regarding the geometry of sublime loneliness? Would I have been able to identify the Xy'lar tear to Lady Thorne? Would I have identified the phase-disruption field to General Rix? No. My value, my Lady, lies in the fact that I am a walking, breathing, unforeseen variable."

He raised his floating cup, the gesture a perfect blend of defiance and toast. "I am an asset without a recognised countermeasure. And in a political landscape where every piece of information is weaponised, to reveal my species now would be to hand my only advantage—and thus, the Faction's advantage—to our enemies for free. I assure you, Lady Gakoria, I am saving the reveal of my ancestry for a moment when it can be leveraged for a truly spectacular victory. Until then," he finished, taking a slow, deliberate sip of the nectar, "I remain the elegant, unknown factor."

He had turned her greatest weapon—his lack of pedigree—into his greatest source of demand. He wasn't ashamed of his lineage; he was rationing it.

A low sound emanated from Kaelen Rix's helmet—a sound that might have been a small laugh. Eris Thorne wrote a rapid symbol on her floating scroll. Azrail had not only deflected Gakoria's attack, but he had leveraged the very women she introduced as witnesses to his intellectual victory.

Gakoria's single eye narrowed almost to a slit. She saw the trap closing, realised she had asked a high-stakes question publicly, and had just been given a high-value answer that satisfied everyone except her own personal prejudice.

"A spectacular victory, you say," Gakoria murmured, attempting to regain control. "High standards, Azrail. Very high standards indeed. Tell me, then, if you will, not about your people, but about your intentions. What is the single, highest goal you hope to achieve here in the Consequence Courts? Speak plainly."

Azrail smiled, and this time, the gesture felt genuine beneath the cover. He looked around the room, meeting the gaze of Zylara, Kaelen, Eris, and Nyx—the four powerful women who now viewed him with a mix of respect and deep curiosity.

"Plainly, Lady Gakoria?" Azrail leaned back, settling into the divan as if he owned the room. "I intend to become the one thing the cosmos cannot afford to lose."

His words were simple, but the arrogance in them spoke volumes, and Azrail could see that it had pissed off some of them and impressed others. To the eyes of many, it seemed like the viewpoint of the beauty that comes from a junior—the bleeding desires that juniors have to make their names known to the world—and it hit correctly.

'Humans still haven't earned that much recognition yet.'

In a certain sense, humans are still more newly integrated into the cosmos; yes, we have carved out our position and have high powers everywhere, but it still hasn't reached a level of species ranking where humans are treated as a 'higher' species by many of the other existing ones.

"Sounds like a great goal, simple yet revealing none."

Gakoria replied with a smile, her eyes focusing deep into Azrail, who just took in the gaze as he responded.

"As I said before, a little mystery is good."

"But too much mystery just kills the mood."

The reply straight from Gakoria had a hint of threat to it, and Azrail took it in naturally as Rix asked.

"Tell me, how does it feel to wield death in your hands? It's a feeling of element I always envied, that raw power that everyone fears...."

'So they finally touch upon that.'

Azrail inwardly mused.