Chapter 82: Meeting

“Understood. I asked that you spare us,” Varka, Sheena’s symbiote, said. The white tentacle bowed toward her.

“Well. You seem conscious—I’ll give you that. Now tell us: how many times, and when was the last time you took the drug?” Altair asked. Lizzy, her symbiote, also leaned forward.

“The last time I took the drug was a year ago, during one of my training sessions with Sheena. She views the drug as a punishment tool—similar to how soldiers are lashed when they disobey orders or perform below standard.”

“Hanuth, take note. I don’t know what the council will decide, but Sheena’s punishment will be determined later. Now, about amenities—did Sheena provide you with any? Did she ever lend you her body?”

“She did, but with restrictions. During vacations, she often asked what food I preferred. She also allowed me to wander freely on those days.”

“Hm…” Altair was surprised by the symbiote’s answer. It directly contradicted what she knew about Latvin. Latvin was supposed to treat symbiotes as slaves, allowing them no freedom. Her eyes shifted to Rebecca, silently asking if this was normal in Latvin.

“If this were common practice, then her view of symbiotes would change drastically. The drug would still be forbidden—but if Latvin only used it as punishment, then their morality would not differ greatly from other nations. Even Mutual, despite worshiping symbiotes, still punished unruly ones who killed without cause.”

“No, I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Rebecca said. “Symbiotes are forbidden from contacting normal humans, so even I don’t know much.”

“As Rebecca said, Sheena is not the norm—she’s an outlier. Most humans treat symbiotes the way Delghar does: merely as tools.”

“I see…” Altair turned her gaze to Sheena. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Why did you do it? Are you claiming you pitied the symbiotes?”

Her eyes bore into Sheena, judging her—wondering whether she would beg for mercy, and whether she was a hypocrite spinning convenient lies.

“...Maybe? But not really. My father always said we should treat tools and animals with respect. Take cows and chickens, for example—if we treat them well, they become more productive, and farmers are happier.” Sheena took a step back, pondering why she had answered so honestly. She could have lied, but she chose not to. Sincerity was her greatest virtue—something she always strived for. Her country had betrayed her, yet she still clung to its teachings.

“I see,” Altair said. “So, how do other symbiote users treat their symbiotes? I want to compare this with what I already know. I heard Latvin sees symbiotes as tools. Is this true? This question is for Varka.”

“The country does treat us as tools,” Varka replied, “but how each host behaves varies. As long as the hosts don’t break any rules, the authorities usually turn a blind eye to how they treat their symbiotes. Delghar—the symbiote user who died a few days ago—took the drug regularly, believing his symbiote was hostile and trying to dominate his body. Sheena and Delila, on the other hand, saw symbiotes as their men—often treating us the way a boss treats their subordinates.”

“How about Rashick and Jonathan?” the general asked.

“I don’t know. Sheena wasn’t close to them. Delila might know—she was often stationed in the capital, near the court. But conversations about symbiotes were usually restricted.”

“Well, I’m glad our actions against Latvin were justified. But Altair, wouldn’t it be unfair to punish Sheena? She clearly didn’t share her country’s views.” The general smiled as he wrote his report. This should persuade the king and his ministers.

“I still think Sheena must be punished,” Altair said, “though not as severely as public execution. She still supported that filthy country.”

“Then her punishment should be to defend this land.”

“...Such a punishment would extend to her symbiote. Unacceptable,” Altair said.

“Well, I suppose we can’t do anything about it then. We should grant her amnesty,” the general sighed.

Altair’s face scrunched as if she had bitten into a sour lemon. She let out a reluctant breath. Sheena had won.

“We’ll see what the council decides,” Altair said. “You’ve written your report as well, correct?”

“Yes,” the general nodded. “Ah—my scout reports Gilgamesh has arrived at Evesys Castle. If he departs today, he should arrive here in two days, by afternoon.”

“What a slowpoke, but I’m glad he arrived after the battle was over,” Altair muttered. She couldn’t imagine how Gilgamesh would rampage in Latvin. Mutual couldn’t afford to lose a symbiote.

Two days later, Gilgamesh arrived with his entourage.

If Val was the embodiment of speed, then Gilgamesh was its opposite. His men wore heavy armor—the very image of heavy infantry. Most of his knights rode in carriages rather than on horseback. Fifteen carriages, an absurd number for a symbiote user’s entourage, trailed behind him.

“There are only a hundred men, but he sure brought a lot of camp followers,” Rebecca muttered.

Hiro nudged her from within, reminding her to stay out of sight. Rebecca and the others nodded and rode north, where dangers around the Forest of Symbiotes still lingered, carrying Vina, an ex-symbiote user imprisoned within the capital, with them. The general had deliberately sent them away, fearing Gilgamesh might provoke them into a fight.

Gilgamesh entered the room with a bang, tearing the door from its hinges.

The general had to crane his neck upward to face him. This new symbiote was a giant—almost twice the general’s height, so large that even the castle doorway barely accommodated his rugged physique.

The general suddenly understood why the man was so slow. He doubted any horse could carry him. Instead, Gilgamesh traveled in a modified steel carriage pulled by a dozen horses. Two massive battleaxes hung across his back. Weapons that normally required two hands looked like throwing axes in his monstrous grip.

Gilgamesh barged in and sat on the floor.

Even then, he was still half a head taller than the general seated in his chair.

“So, I heard you finished the battle here. Tch. How boring. So—how are we supposed to divide the land? And wait, where’s that dog? Did he go drinking?” Gilgamesh looked around the royal castle. He had heard Val Sabertooth was also dispatched here, so he was searching for him. They had history—rival symbiote users often did, especially along the borders.

“Val has fallen in battle, Gilgamesh,” Altair said solemnly. “He was killed by a symbiote user named Delila.”The general closed his eyes for a brief moment of silence.

“Him? Really? How did he fall?” Gilgamesh asked. “I heard Latvin used underhanded tactics to kill symbiote users. Such disgrace must be avenged.”

“He fell in a one-on-one duel with Delila. There were no tricks,” Altair said.

“Will you swear to it?”

“Yes. I swear to tell only what I witnessed.”

“I see… Damn.” Gilgamesh exhaled heavily. “So—how do we divide the land?”

“Gods, you’re insensitive,” Altair snapped.

“What?” Gilgamesh barked back. “It’s not like Delila was even here. And we all know the fate of a Divine Host who loses a duel. If it was fair, what is there to argue?”

Silence filled the room.

Symbiote users were honored because they were the spearhead of war. Nations relied on them when conflicts erupted. There was an unspoken rule among them—to reduce casualties, symbiote users would duel each other, and the loser would surrender along with their claim.

“General?” Altair turned to him.

“The details will be discussed later, but Litmus intends to take Evesys and the northern territory. You may take the southern region and the royal capital.”

“And Vertia?” Gilgamesh asked. “Are you handing that to us too? How generous.”

“Litmus will petition for Vertia to be freed.”

“Hah? The losers should shut up and accept their fate!” Gilgamesh roared. “Why should we honor those mutts? They lost the duel!”

“In any case, Litmus will not enslave or occupy Vertia,” the general said calmly. “We lack the manpower to protect it.”

“Then we will take it,” Gilgamesh replied coldly.

“And risk our relationship with Delana? Besides, how are we even supposed to protect Vertia? We’ve got a goblin kingdom in southern Latvin now. How many fronts do you want us to fight? Vertia used to have three or four Divine Hosts, didn’t it?” Altair sighed, already imagining how the council would respond.

“...I’m certainly not taking on more work. I’m not a workaholic like Claudia. But I don’t want Delana—a loser—to claim Vertia. Losers should bow to the winner! And someone has to take it, right? Vertia doesn’t even have a Divine Host anymore,” Gilgamesh scoffed.

Unlike Latvin or Litmus, the Council of Mutual was stronger than its king. Its decisions were absolute. Gilgamesh and Claudia would almost certainly vote to occupy Vertia. That left six Divine Hosts’ votes undecided. Altair would vote for Vertia’s independence—or for granting it to Delana.

“General,” Altair said suddenly, “Litmus is also a victor. And your symbiote killed the most symbiotes in this war. What do you say?”

“Eh? Me? Like I said—”

“Shut it. I don’t speak to peasants,” Gilgamesh interrupted.

“My country, my rules, gorilla. General, speak.” Cylia glared at Gilgamesh. Her violet eyes radiated pressure that sent a chill through the room.

“Tch!” Gilgamesh clicked his tongue. He knew better than to underestimate any symbiote user—even one barely the size of his arm. She was petite and slim, almost fragile-looking. He could crush her with a single blow… and yet people like her had always been his greatest weakness. Mutual had one like her once. After being utterly defeated, he learned never to underestimate the “small” ones again.

“Well… either Mutual shares the burden with Delana and jointly manages Vertia—or we give Vertia to Delana outright. Giving it to Delana would preserve our alliance and improve our security.

“Y-you see… if Vertia goes to Delana, they’d have no choice but to surrender two of their sym— Ahem. Divine Hosts, forgive me. That’s our term for symbiotes. They would be forced to station at least two Divine Hosts in Vertia, even after just losing one of their own. But if you claim Vertia, you’d lose two Divine Hosts there—and another in southern Latvin.”

“I still don’t like it,” Gilgamesh muttered.

“I’m only stating my position,” the general replied while wiping sweat from his brow. “The final decision isn’t ours to make. That lies with the council, does it not?”

“Fuck! So I came all this way just to be sent back?” Gilgamesh snarled. “At least let me visit the goblin kingdom!”

After a few more curse words, Gilgamesh agreed to the term. The meeting came to a close.