I didn't sleep. I sat by the open wall, watching the nebula rotate, plotting our escape.
We couldn't fight our way out. Malakor was likely a Level 50 entity. Elyon was unknown. The others were variable but clearly superior to my Level 12 status.
But they needed us. That was the only card I had.
The next morning, the doors opened. Elyon stood there.
"Your decision, Founder Shen?"
I stood up, straightening my jacket. I walked past him, Lily following close behind. We entered the council chamber again. The other delegates were already seated, looking bored or impatient.
I walked to my chair, but I didn't sit. I stood at the head of the table.
"I will join the Defense Grid," I announced. "I will open my World Anchor."
Elyon nodded slowly. "Acceptable."
"However," I continued, my voice ringing through the chamber. "I do not accept 'Observer Status.' I require a seat on the Tribunal."
Murmurs erupted. The sand woman laughed.
"You are Level 12," she scoffed. "The Tribunal is for World-Rulers. You run a farm."
"I hold a Null Point," I countered. "Without me, your grid fails. You need a stable anchor. I am offering stability. In exchange, I want a vote. I want protection for my sovereign territory. And I want diplomatic immunity for my family."
"She is bold," the cyborg hummed. "But leverage is leverage."
"She is a child playing with fire," the sand woman hissed.
I slammed my hand on the table. "Test me. Try to strip-mine my world. See how many Spirit Stones you get when I blow the Core myself. You will get nothing but a hole in your net."
Silence.
I was betting everything on the assumption that they were bureaucrats. They didn't want a fight; they wanted resources.
Elyon studied me for a long moment.
"Granted," he said. "You will have a seat on the Tribunal. Non-voting. Observer status with sovereign immunity. In exchange, you will provide 500 Spirit Stone units per month."
It was steep. It would hurt our growth. But it bought us survival.
"Agreed."
"Furthermore," Elyon added. "You will be assigned a liaison. To ensure... compliance."
He gestured to the door.
A girl walked in. She looked human, maybe seventeen. She had messy pink hair, a leather jacket covered in patches, and a massive, rusted chainsaw strapped to her back.
"This is Zeta," Elyon said. "She will live in your valley. Monitor your output. And report any... anomalies."
Zeta winked at me, popping a bubble of gum. "Nice to meet ya, Boss Lady."
Great. A babysitter. A spy.
"Deal," I said through gritted teeth.
We shook hands—Elyon's grip was cold and dry.
I turned to Lily. "We're leaving."
We walked toward the extraction point, Zeta skipping behind us, humming a tune that sounded like a death march.
I had bought us time. I had bought us a seat at the table.
But as we stepped through the golden portal back to Earth, I knew the hardest part wasn't the battle with the Lord.
It was surviving the peace.