Hye smiled, but it wasn't a friendly expression. It was the smile of a man who had realised that even the mighty Hescos were blinded by their own shadows.
"If your race truly has a place for every talent, then why does your design for filtering power aim to produce such a tragically small pool of prodigies?" Hye asked, his voice steady as he leaned forward.
He pointed a finger directly at Moth, cutting through the general's practised composure.
"I'd bet my kingdom that you weren't the only successful apocalypse winner in your generation. Not by a long shot. And yet, look around you. How many of those peers managed to keep pushing until this very day?"
Moth fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The flickering candlelight in the tent seemed to dim as the weight of the question settled over him. Hye didn't wait for a verbal response; the silence was the loudest answer he could have asked for.
