The figure upon the throne looked less like a rotting corpse and more like a deathly pale nobleman.
He wore a well-tailored black trench coat that accentuated his lean frame. His skin was bloodless but smooth, devoid of the decay that plagued his lesser kin. His eyes were not the murky, clouded gray of the common undead, but a deep, piercing crimson that glowed with a predatory intelligence.
Just as the Enderman scout prepared to blink forward for a closer look, a black shadow blurred across the hall. A lithe, Fifth-Order zombie leaped into its path, its scythe-like claws shimmering with a cold, metallic sheen.
"Step aside. Let him through."
The voice from the throne commanded, smooth and resonant. The guardian obeyed without hesitation, retreating into the shadows with a respectful bow.
Swish!
The Enderman flickered, reappearing at the foot of the throne's dais, staring up fearlessly. At that instant, far away in the Command Center, Steve fully submerged his consciousness into the link, seizing direct control of the scout's vocal cords.
"So, you're the one they call the King?" Steve had the Enderman speak, his tone flat and unimpressed.
The figure on the throne inclined his head with a graceful tilt. "I am Bellamy, Sovereign of the Kin. And you... you are not the creature you inhabit."
"I'm Steve. I lead the forces you've been hearing about."
"A human?" Bellamy's eyes traced the Enderman's lanky form. He smiled faintly, revealing teeth that were sharp and perfectly white. "What difference does it make? Whether you are flesh or spirit, you come to me alone. Beyond probing my strength, I can think of no other reason for such a visit."
"Correct," Steve replied bluntly. "The three strongholds have fallen. Only you and your pack remain. Once you're dealt with, this world can be scrubbed clean and returned to the order it knew before the collapse."
Bellamy wasn't angered; instead, he seemed genuinely amused. "Ambitious." He leaned forward, those blood-red eyes locking onto the Enderman. "You arrived only recently, yet you crushed the human bases like dry glass. My scouts tell me you have a particular interest in... collecting my subjects."
"Is that so?" Steve asked.
"Why take them?" Bellamy pressed. "What use is a mindless corpse to a god who walks between worlds?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Steve looked at him with mock pity. "We haul them back to the labs to see what makes them tick. You didn't think we were inviting them for tea, did you?"
Bellamy nodded, a flicker of admiration crossing his face. "You don't seem to fear death, Steve. You are in my palace, surrounded by circles of Fifth-Order guardians. Even with your spatial tricks, I doubt you could slip through my fingers."
"Fear?" Steve snorted.
To the shock of every analyst watching the feed in the Command Center, Steve had the Enderman swagger forward. He turned his back on the King and strolled toward a massive, Strength-type Fifth-Order zombie standing to the left of the throne. The guardian wasn't exceptionally tall, but every muscle looked as if it were cast from dark steel, radiating a suffocating pressure.
Then, Steve did the unthinkable. He turned, plopped down, and leaned casually against the Tier 5 guardian's thick thigh as if it were a lounge chair.
Lazily tilting his head, he looked at the stunned monster and then back at the King. "Hey, these legs are sturdy—mind if I use them for a backrest? I'm having a chat with your master; you wouldn't dare move, would you?"
The Fifth-Order zombie froze. It possessed just enough intelligence to know it was being humiliated, but it remained paralyzed, looking toward Bellamy for the order to tear the intruder apart.
Bellamy's brow creased. He couldn't read Steve. Keeping a distance made sense—it allowed for a quick escape. But leaning against a high-level predator was practically offering his throat to the blade. Was he truly that confident, or was this a suicidal bluff?
"Indeed," Bellamy said after a long silence, waving his hand to keep his minions still. "I have no intention of killing you yet. You have spirit, Steve. I admire that."
Bellamy rose from his throne and descended the steps, his coat swirling around his boots. "Why waste our time as enemies? You have the power to cross planes. Open the gateways for us. Let my kin enter your world, and we will handle the infection."
His eyes burned with a dark fervor. "The more I turn, the stronger I become. I might even reach the legendary Sixth-Order. Think of the profit. I could help you conquer countless worlds."
"Cooperate?" Steve made a sound that was half-laugh, half-scoff. "Why would I share the spoils with a virus when I could just wipe you out and take the worlds for myself?"
"Because you don't understand the nature of my gift," Bellamy stated confidently.
Steve shifted, propping an elbow on the guardian's knee, regarding Bellamy idly. "I'm not interested in partnership. But if you're dying to brag, I'll listen. It's something about boosting evolution, right?"
Bellamy blinked, surprised that Steve already knew. "Yes. It is a natural domain. Within my presence, zombies evolve ten times faster than they do in the wild. It is mutual benefit."
"Still not interested," Steve refused, closing the Enderman's eyes as if bored.
Bellamy's expression finally darkened. The refined, aristocratic aura vanished, replaced by an icy, predatory chill. "Steve... did you truly believe this was a friendly negotiation?"
Boom!
A terrifying pressure exploded from the King. Every zombie in the hall snapped into a combat stance, their snarling maws dripping with hunger as the encirclement tightened. Even the guardian Steve was leaning against tensed its muscles, poised to crush his skull in an instant.
Steve merely patted the zombie's thigh as if calming a restless hound. "Easy now."
He looked up at the scowling Bellamy, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Getting impatient? I wasn't finished. I'm just deciding whether your 'evolutionary domain' is worth the trouble of taking it from your cold, dead hands."
The air seemed to freeze. Hundreds of crimson eyes were locked onto the lanky black figure in the center of the hall. Bellamy stood at the foot of the dais, his brows knitted in frustration. He couldn't fathom how Steve maintained such absolute composure when every exit was barred.