"Allies..." Kairos whispered to himself as he walked home. "I need allies."
"But what are allies?"
The question lingered in his mind. Were they friends? Family? Or could they be anyone?
No. Allies are temporary partners who work together for mutual benefit. In a world driven by self-interest, alliances are formed out of necessity, not trust. People cooperate as long as their goals align, but the moment those goals shift, betrayal becomes inevitable.
True allies are rare because loyalty is fragile. Most alliances are built on strategy, not companionship. The moment one side no longer benefits, the alliance crumbles.
An ally is only as reliable as their interests.
Kairos exhaled slowly. He needed allies he could trust. But who?
"I need individuals already working within the government system," he murmured. "That way, I can dismantle it from the inside. I've already sown seeds of distrust between the Barathis and Vorath... but I need someone to help me maintain the chaos. The imp won't be much help in this situation."
A voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Hey, Kairos!" Myra's voice rang out from a distance. She waved as she approached. "You're back."
Kairos blinked, realizing he had walked farther than he had expected. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed he'd arrived home.
Myra jogged up to him, slightly out of breath. "That was quicker than I expected."
Kairos cleared his throat. "Yeah, I decided to return early."
"Glad you did." She gestured toward the house. "Mom's been waiting for you anxiously."
"I guess I should go inside." His voice was soft as he walked past her.
Myra frowned slightly, watching him. Earlier, he'd seemed distant—no doubt because of what had happened to Gilen. But now, he looked composed, as if nothing had happened. Was he just hiding his emotions?
Kairos opened the door and stepped inside. Mysa was seated on the couch, her head bowed slightly. At the sound of his footsteps, she looked up.
"I'm back."
Mysa stood, her movements slow and deliberate. "Oh, that's good. How is Instructor Valkos?"
"I'd say he's doing fine."
Mysa studied him, something in her gaze unreadable. "That's good to hear."
Kairos could tell she was surprised by his demeanor. She had expected something different, perhaps the same sorrow she had sensed in him earlier. He didn't give her a chance to pry further.
"I'll be in my room."
"Your lunch is on the kitchen table."
"I'll eat later."
Kairos shut his door behind him gently and sat on the bed. He reached for a small notebook, grabbing a pen from his desk. He flipped open the book, but when he tried to write, the pen refused to work.
"Ah. The ink's dry." He shook the pen vigorously, then tested it on the cover page. "There."
Opening the notebook, he began to write.
WhatamIfightingfor?
Abetter future for the weak. A better future for the tormented. A better future for the oppressed.
What am I up against?
The Demon King's oppressive government. PrinceKharon—whohasseenthroughmyactionsyetchoosesnottoact.
He tapped the pen against the paper, before continuing.
HowdoIdealwith Kharon? Should I approach him and ask what he wants? No. That won't work. The fact that he hasn't taken action means he's planning something. But what? Finding out might be a waste of time. For now, I'll go with the flow while keeping an eye on him.
Now... whoshallbemyallies?
A knock at the door interrupted his writing.
"Kairos? Can I come in?" Myra's voice was gentle.
"Yeah."
She stepped inside, a small smile on her face. "You haven't eaten your lunch."
Kairos returned her smile—faint but genuine. "I'll eat later."
"Alright, but don't forget." She turned to leave but hesitated for a moment before stepping out.
Kairos watched her go, a realization settling over him.
The ally he needed had been right in front of him all along—someone he could trust with his life.
Myra was the perfect choice. He trusted her completely, and as a member of Prince Kharon's army, she could disrupt things from within. Her connections with high-ranking officials made her even more valuable—she could gather intelligence, manipulate key figures, and subtly shift the tides in his favor.
Exhaling, he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his decisions pressed down on him. Trust was a rare currency, and he had to spend it wisely. If he chose wrong, the consequences would be devastating. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of rest, knowing that he had made the right choice.