He walked back to his desk and tapped the surface. The screen changed, showing a replay of a city burning—not Azureus, but the Imperial Capital.
"There is no victory inside the System," Prime declared. "The only way to win is to crash the game."
The silence in the office was absolute, a vacuum where hope struggled to breathe. The image of the burning capital reflected in Alvian's eyes, a grim prophecy of a future he had already lived through once.
"Crash the game," Alvian repeated. "That is your solution? Suicide on a cosmic scale?"
"Starvation," Alvian Prime corrected. He paced behind his desk, his movements economical, precise. "The System feeds on conflict. It feeds on the narrative of the 'Hero' rising to stop the 'Calamity'. It needs an active protagonist to drive the script. If the protagonist removes himself from the board... the story stalls. The System enters stasis. The Convergence halts because there is no one to witness it."
