Their boots crushed the broken stone of what was once the Zoner district, a place now reduced to dust, cracked walls, and half-collapsed homes. Ash drifted through the air, soft and quiet, like snow falling on a grave.
Domain stopped under a broken balcony, running her hand along the wall. "Picture it," she said calmly. "Futuristic apartment towers here. Glass balconies, vertical gardens, air filtration. We'll rebuild over this mess and name each level after a virtue. Progress should always look neat."
Avastma smirked. "And how long will it take you to erase this dump? Ten years? Twenty?"
Domain thought for a moment. "A decade, maybe less. The new Arkvine automatons arrive next month, half the time, double the precision. Efficiency is mercy."
Sephiss's voice cut through the air, calm and measured. "The new order will be beautiful. The Zeta Branch divided. Each of us governing our own part of land. Hierarchy made visible, and unbreakable."
Avastma's grin widened. "Good. I'm claiming a land of all femboys. Loyal, obedient, saying 'please, mommy' every morning."
Sephiss sighed. "You and France always find ways to embarrass philosophy."
Avastma laughed. "Don't compare me to him. He's a child with a cheap taste. Spanking? That's peasantry."
Sephiss shrugged, lips twitching. "Everyone has a niche. Mine is watching humanity unravel."
Their laughter echoed through the ruins, casual and cruel, like royalty enjoying the view after a storm.
Then, a sound. Soft. A whimper.
A little girl crouched behind a broken wall. Her face was smudged with soot, her clothes torn.
Domain spotted her first. "Oh... a child." Her tone was sweet, almost motherly.
Sephiss tilted his head. "She's filthy."
"Of course," Domain said. "She's poor."
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The girl jumped up to her feet, trembled, unable to move or speak.
Sephiss lowered his voice. "Child, what is your name?"
She said nothing. Her eyes darted between them. Fear took over. She wet herself.
Domain's smile never wavered. "Aww. Look at her. She's terrified."
Sephiss asked, "Do you have parents?"
"They were taken," she whispered.
"Then they'll be part of the Selection," Sephiss said flatly. "Don't worry. Someday you will be too. Now go, run along, filthy Zoner."
The girl bolted into the rubble.
Avastma watched her go, expression unreadable. "Maybe the Deltas went too far."
Domain shook her head. "No. This is what fear looks like. Fear teaches obedience. Obedience keeps order."
Sephiss nodded. "Yes. The Artimancers are useful. The Royals are logical. The poor, though..." His eyes hardened. "They only understand fear."
Then, movement.
A man burst from the rubble, shaking, clutching a makeshift gun. He fired. The bullets missed, pinging off broken stone.
The Elders didn't flinch.
Sephiss turned toward him, slow, almost bored.
The man's voice cracked. "You killed my family."
Sephiss "Were they Zoners?
The man "Yes."
Sephiss's tone was calm, even polite. "If they were poor, then what is the problem?"
"You're monsters!" the man shouted. "Where's your empathy?"
Sephiss's faint amusement thinned into a lesson only a tyrant could give.
"Empathy," he began, his tone smooth as polished marble, "is the illusion that all life holds equal weight. It's weakness dressed as virtue.
Sympathy, however" he smiled faintly," is selective. It acknowledges hierarchy. It chooses who deserves your care.
And hierarchy, my friend... is survival itself."
He leaned closer, his eyes like glass. . "Now tell me, do you understand who we are?"
The man swallowed. "You're... the Zeta Elders."
"Correct," Domain said softly. "And you've chosen a very poor time to test your luck."
Sephiss folded his hands behind his back. "This is why your kind disappear. The sentimental die first."
Sephiss conjured a book. "This book is called Damon's penalty, this is my Philo and it's been years since I had a chance to impose my philosopy on to the world. Consider yourself lucky."
The man took several steps back in fear of what was to come next.
Sephiss "How can the wind strike like a blade."
Damon's Penalty illuminated blue.
The air around him shimmered. There was no flash, no noise, only a sharp shift, like the world skipping a heartbeat.
The man fell. His head was far removed from his body
The Elders walked on.
Domain brushed ash off her sleeve. Avastma hummed a tune. Sephiss adjusted his cuff and glanced at the skyline.
"Next," he said softly, "we handle the Artists."
They disappeared into the gray horizon, three gods walking through the ashes of their own philosophy.