The return to the central pace from Valerian's territory was like passing from crity back into chaos. After the straightforward order of the Northern Border Territory, the political turbulence awaiting Lucius appeared all the more absurd by contrast.

  Vampire society had fractured into factions following his revetions, each attempting to manipute the new reality to their advantage. Religious groups had emerged worshipping Lucius as a deity, complete with eborate rituals and self-appointed high priests who cimed special insight into the "divine will" of the progenitor. Political opportunists positioned themselves as "interpreters" of Lucius's intentions, offering their services to nobles seeking to navigate the changed ndscape. Most concerning were the traditionalists who circuted theories about Lucius's supposed "usurpation" of vampire leadership—ciming his revetion as Subject 23 was an eborate deception designed to consolidate power.

  Council meetings during the first days after their return revealed the extent of this chaos, with representatives from various territories reporting increasingly disruptive activities across vampire society. Lucius listened to these reports with growing coldness, his expression becoming more remote with each new example of manipution.

  "Enough," he said finally, his quiet voice immediately silencing the council chamber. "I have allowed this chaos to unfold without intervention for precisely seven days. That period of tolerance has ended."

  What followed was a systematic dismantling of each faction with precision that revealed millennia of careful observation. Religious leaders ciming divine interpretation found their less-than-holy histories broadcast across vampire communication networks—private conversations, secret indulgences, and hypocritical behaviors meticulously documented over centuries of surveilnce they never suspected existed. Political maniputors discovered their corruption simirly exposed through monitoring systems operating far beyond their comprehension.

  These calcuted responses managed the first two factions effectively. Information alone proved sufficient to neutralize those whose power depended on perception rather than substance. The religious leaders' followers quickly abandoned them when faced with evidence of their hypocrisy. The political opportunists found themselves without clients when their private dealings became public knowledge.

  With the traditionalists, however, Lucius's approach changed fundamentally. After two thousand years of calcuted restraint, something in him finally shattered completely. During a strategy session with his closest advisors, he issued a command that stunned even those who had served him for centuries: "Bring them all to me. Now."

  The words themselves were simple, but his voice carried an edge that made even hardened military vampires flinch. Valerian, present for this session, immediately understood the significance of his brother's tone. Without requiring further expnation, he dispatched his forces with practiced efficiency, rounding up traditionalist leaders across all territories and bringing them to the central pace's vast ceremonial grounds where broadcast equipment had been hastily assembled.

  As vampire society watched through a global broadcast, Lucius stood before the assembled traditionalists with deceptive calm. Hundreds of vampire nobles and thousands of their followers filled the massive space, their numbers reflecting the significant portion of vampire society that had aligned with traditional values over centuries.

  "You advocate for vampire purity and bloodlines," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the silent gathering. "Are you truly so obtuse that you fail to recognize the fundamental contradiction in your position? All vampire bloodlines originate from me. Every drop of vampire blood in existence came from my transformation as Subject 23."

  He moved forward, his steps measured and precise. "You speak of purity while forgetting whose blood flows through your veins. Whose blood could possibly be more pure than that of your progenitor? You champion a hierarchy based on proximity to original vampire blood, yet reject the very source of that blood when it stands before you."

  The traditionalists shifted uncomfortably, the logical contradiction in their position now starkly apparent. Their entire philosophy centered on vampire purity, with status determined by closeness to original vampire bloodlines—yet their opposition to Lucius directly contradicted this core belief.

  Without preamble or expnation, Lucius reminded them of his power, releasing a wave of suppressive force directly into the gathered opposition. The pressure that had previously affected vampires worldwide now focused exclusively on these thousands of individuals, crushing them to the marble floor with such intensity that the stone beneath them began to crack.

  While maintaining perfect composure, he addressed the cameras: "For two millennia, I have tolerated dissent, opposition, and even open rebellion. I have allowed every vampire to question, to doubt, and to challenge—everything except the fundamental nature of what I am."

  His gaze swept over the prostrate traditionalists, unable to even lift their heads under the weight of his focused power. "I warned everyone that you all met Archduke Lucius and King Lucius the first. You seem to have forgotten who I told you that you would now meet. I am your progenitor, the very reason why you all are alive and have eternity at your front. My word is w. My will is eternal."

  With a gesture toward the thousands of trembling vampires crushed against the marble, he delivered the pronouncement that would reshape vampire politics for centuries to come: "If any of you can stand up, then you may speak and tell me more about your interesting ideas of how I'm pretending to be Subject 23 and so on."

  The challenge hung in the silence as not a single traditionalist could even raise their head from the floor, much less stand. After a full hour of their visible struggle—broadcast live to every vampire territory without interruption—Lucius released the pressure with a casual wave. As the traditionalists gasped for unnecessary breath, their bodies still trembling from the prolonged subjugation, Lucius's voice cut through their collective groans.

  "Perhaps you would prefer to continue this discussion in my brother's blood farms? I understand there are many vacancies for those who question the natural order."

  The mere mention of Valerian's territory—where vampire criminals served as blood sources for his unique vampires—sent visible shudders through the crowd. Lucius allowed the threat to hang in the air for several moments before offering the alternative.

  "Or you may pledge absolute loyalty now and retain your positions under increased oversight. Choose wisely, but choose quickly."

  A brave traditionalist, struggling to his knees but unable to rise further, dared to ask if there might be another option. Lucius's response was immediate and final:

  "There is no third option. You exist because of me. You challenged me. Now you face the consequences of that challenge." His gaze swept across the thousands of still-prostrate vampires. "Loyalty or resource. Those are your choices. You have until dawn to decide."

  The stark binary choice—retain position with absolute loyalty or become blood resources in Valerian's territory—sent shockwaves through vampire society. For beings accustomed to political maneuvering and negotiation, the complete absence of middle ground or escape signaled the fundamental shift in Lucius's governance now that he stood revealed as their progenitor.

  This unprecedented public dispy of both power and restraint—crushing them completely for a full hour yet offering a path forward—reset the bance of vampire society. In one hour and two minutes of broadcast, Lucius had demonstrated both the full extent of his ability to dominate and his continued commitment to order rather than chaos, even for those who opposed him. The binary choice—loyalty or resource—established the new reality of vampire society under the revealed progenitor.

  Throughout these calcuted responses, Lucius maintained perfect composure in public. When they returned to their shared wing of the pace, however, something unexpected happened. Rather than retreating behind his usual walls of formality, Lucius turned to Nova with rare openness.

  "I've spent two thousand years trying to guide vampire society through subtle manipution," he confessed, his voice carrying a weariness that his public persona never revealed. "No matter how much I wish to act as I used to—patient, measured, working through centuries of careful influence—I cannot. Not anymore."

  He gestured toward the monitoring screens showing the aftermath of his demonstration with the traditionalists. "I am the top predator in a predator world. Without demonstrations of absolute power, vampire society will never become what it must—a better pce for all beings, including humans."

  This unexpected confession revealed more about Lucius than any momentary pse in composure could. His willingness to voice his inner conflict to Nova showed the profound depth of his love—a love that had sustained him through two thousand years of waiting and prophetic dreams. With Nova, whom he had loved since his first vision millennia ago, Lucius hid nothing. He had been completely open from the moment they met, treating Nova as his equal despite their vast differences in power and position.

  Where even Archdukes who had known him for two millennia received only carefully measured aspects of his thoughts, Nova received unfiltered truth. This was not calcution or strategy but the natural expression of how Lucius saw Nova—not as a subject or even a companion, but as his true equal and counterpart, the one being with whom he didn't bother hiding anything because he fully trusted Nova. After all, through his prophetic visions, he had known Nova's character and spirit for millennia, witnessing his resilience and dignity through countless possible futures. The vulnerability he showed Nova was not weakness but recognition—after waiting multiple millennia to find him, Lucius refused to waste a single moment on pretense or facade with the one being who mattered most to him.

  "For centuries, I've known what vampire society could become," he continued, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "But patience alone cannot create the necessary change. Some transformations require force."

  His gaze held Nova's with unusual directness as he delivered his final thought: "They exist because of me. Just as I accepted my responsibility for their existence long ago, now they need to accept reality and their pce."

  The simple, uncompromising statement revealed the core of Lucius's current approach—the fundamental truth that vampire society had avoided confronting for two millennia. His words contained no apology, no justification, merely the acknowledgment of reality that had been obscured for far too long.

  The chapter culminated with Lucius reviewing intelligence reports of remaining opposition—nobles who believed themselves beyond his reach due to territorial isotion or political connections. His response was not rage but calcuted precision as he dispatched Valerian's forces to strategic locations, implementing the complete territorial control that his identity as Subject 23 now made possible.

  What once required centuries of subtle manipution could now be accomplished through direct authority, a liberation from constraint that both satisfied and disquieted him after millennia of careful restraint. As he issued these final directives, Nova noticed something in Lucius's expression that few would recognize—not the satisfaction of power finally unleashed, but the profound relief of no longer needing to pretend to be less than he truly was.

  For two thousand years, Lucius had maintained the fiction that he was merely one vampire among many, different only in authority rather than fundamental nature. That burden of restraint had finally lifted, allowing him to act with the directness his true identity warranted. The liberation was not about domination but authenticity—the freedom to finally exist as himself rather than the carefully constructed persona he had maintained for millennia.