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Chapter 322: 322
The Emperor knew of their technology. He knew what they had developed, yet instead of condemning them or seeing them as a threat, he had decided to "help" them. The truth behind his offer was clear: they were to be tools in his war against the demons, expendable assets to be used for their technological prowess, and discarded once their usefulness had run out.
This should have been cause for celebration. The Emperor himself acknowledging their work, offering resources and assistance to further their progress into technology. But Por, and every other ratman in the room, understood the chilling reality beneath it all. They were pawns. They would be sent to die in a war they had no part in starting. And if they survived, it wouldn’t be on their own terms.
Tahlia rolled the scroll back up, her gaze drifting over the kneeling figures before her. "Your future is no longer your own," she said softly, almost as if in pity. "But you will serve a purpose."
A badge appeared on Tahlia’s hand which she threw at the chief "You have few weeks to settle things down here and gather capable ratfolks that will be good and helpful to your new relocation, if you don’t do it we will and you won’t like the way it will end"
A portal opened up behind Thalia as she took one last look at the despairing ratmen, a look of pity flashed in her eyes followed by a look of conviction.
The ratmen’s current fate was a good example of what could happen to them if the demons won this invasion and such fate is something she doesn’t want for herself and her people, walking into the portal it closed behind her.
The whole room still was silent even with Thalia gone, the chief looking at the badge thrown to him had tears dropping from his face, the gauntlet on his hand hissed as he punched a hole in the ground while roaring out loud.
Sniffling he said "Our ancestor’s dreams, their fight and will that has been passed down for generations, how terrible is it that with all they had done to get us to where we are today, we will be the one to end their hard work with our own hands"
"What face do we have to face them in death knowing that we picked up arms to fighting for the goblins, who has been our oppressors for generation. We care not for what happens to this world yet here we are forced to fight"
The chief’s voice cracked as he spoke, his tears mixing with the dust from the hole he had just punched into the ground. His shoulders trembled with a mixture of anger, grief, and helplessness. He knew the weight of what had just been asked of them—no, demanded of them. To fight for their oppressors, the very ones who had looked down on them for generations, using the tools they had developed out of sheer necessity, was a bitter fate. It was a betrayal to their ancestors, a perversion of everything the ratmen had fought to achieve.
Por, still kneeling, couldn’t bring herself to look up. The hollow echo of the chief’s words settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She had delivered them into this nightmare. Her desperation to find a solution had only tightened the chains around their necks. The badge Tahlia had thrown at the chief now seemed like a cursed relic, a symbol of their submission, their doom.
"We’ve been used," Por muttered, her voice barely audible. "From the start, they played us. And I handed them the key."
The chief’s bloodshot eyes turned to her, filled with a deep, primal rage. But he didn’t lash out. He couldn’t. They were all in this together now, trapped by forces far beyond their control.
"They don’t care about our survival," another voice broke the silence. It was the engineer, still trembling from his earlier confrontation with Tahlia. "We’re tools. The disruptor, our ingenuity—none of it matters to them except as a means to an end. We’re just another weapon in their arsenal now."
The words hit hard, cutting deeper into the despair that had already taken root. For generations, the ratmen had fought for autonomy, for a place in this world that didn’t involve serving the whims of others. And now, after years of clawing their way to survival, they were back at square one—forced to fight a war they had no stake in.
Por clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms until they drew blood. The pain was a small relief from the crushing reality of their situation.
"What do we do now?" one of the younger ratmen asked, his voice barely a whisper. He looked around at the older members of the group, hoping for guidance, for a glimmer of hope in the darkness that now surrounded them.
The chief, still kneeling, lifted his head slowly. His face was a twisted mask of sorrow, but beneath it, there was something else—something more dangerous. His fists clenched at his sides as he spoke through gritted teeth. "We do what we must," he growled. "For our people. For our survival. We take up arms not for the goblins, but for ourselves. We fight because it’s the only option left to us".
His words, though bitter, stirred something in the room. A flicker of defiance, faint but real. They had been beaten down, yes, but they were not broken. Not yet.
Por raised her head slowly, her eyes meeting the chief’s. There was no forgiveness in them, but there was a shared understanding—a grim acknowledgment of the road ahead. "We’ll gather our strongest, our best minds," she said, her voice steadier now. "If we’re going to be used as weapons, then we’ll make sure it’s on our terms. And maybe... maybe we can find a way out of this".
The ratwoman in charge of plants among the now agitated ratmen leaders had a calm look in her eyes even though she was still shaken by everthing.
She spoke as her calm, slightly shaky voice drew the attention of the other ratmen "I wish I can share the same sentiment as you all do at this very moment but I am not so keen on warfare. Nonetheless, I can act as a voice of reason seeing you all so agitated"
The room grew quiet again as the ratwoman, her voice soft yet steady, commanded the attention of the others. Her calm demeanor was in stark contrast to the roiling emotions of those around her, and in that moment, her words seemed to cut through the thick air of anger and despair.
"I do not deny the anger you all feel," she continued, her eyes moving from face to face, lingering briefly on Por and the chief. "But we must see the larger picture here. This is not just about us or our settlement. Whatever these demons are, they’ve forced the emperor’s hand—he wouldn’t turn to us if the situation wasn’t dire. We are, by some twisted luck, seen as valuable to him. Our skills, our technology... he needs us."
The others listened intently, some nodding in agreement, while others still fumed quietly.
"War was coming for us, one way or another," she said with a heavy sigh. "Whether we fought for our own freedom or for the emperor’s ambitions, the difference is now that we’ve lost the choice of when and how. But that does not mean we’ve lost everything."
The chief, still gripping the badge in his hand, looked up at her, his fury cooling into something more deliberate. "What are you suggesting then?" he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion and grief.
To everyone’s surprise, the rat woman shook her head. "I have nothing to suggest. There’s no denying how bad and desperate our situation is. My whole reason for speaking is to ask you all to approach this with a calm mind."
The plantkeeper’s unexpected words sent a ripple of confusion through the gathered leaders. The chief narrowed his eyes, his grip on the badge tightening as he processed her response. "You don’t have a plan?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
She shook her head again, her expression calm. "No," she replied softly. "I don’t. This isn’t a problem we can solve with clever schemes or bold plans. I’m not here to offer a way out. I’m here to remind you that desperation will get us killed faster than the emperor or his war."
The room fell silent again, but this time it wasn’t from shock—it was the silence of harsh truth sinking in.
"We have no easy choices left," she continued, her voice trembling slightly now as the weight of reality pressed on her. "We’re outmatched, outmanoeuvred, and the future we fought for is no longer in our hands. But how we face this... it still matters. If we lash out blindly, if we fall apart in fear or anger, we’ll lose everything. But if we move forward with clear heads, we might find something worth saving. Even if it’s just our dignity."
