The Flint family meeting room was quiet as the Patriarch sat at the head of the long table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the surface.

"It has been a week since that brat was given the land," he snapped, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the men sitting across from him, "when are we making our move? At this rate, the other houses will steal the region right out from under us."

He had been furious ever since the King handed the unowned region to his exiled son. The Flints had lobbied for that territory for years, and watching the other Great Houses prepare their own territory wars to claim it was driving him insane.

None of the men answered immediately, exchanging uneasy glances before one of the older commanders finally cleared his throat.

"Patriarch," he began, keeping his voice carefully pitched, "the only issue is the monster."

The Patriarch narrowed his eyes, his drumming fingers stopping as he leaned forward in his chair, "what are you talking about?"

"It is surprising we did not think about it before," the commander explained, gesturing toward the map resting on the table, "that region has sat empty for decades because the anomalies there breed faster than any single house can clear them out."

The commander tapped a finger against the center of the map, looking back up at the Patriarch. "But the boy managed to become the ruler, and the monster that controls that territory has not reacted to his presence at all."

The Patriarch froze, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to a sickening realization. "Right," he muttered, slowly dropping his entire weight back into his large chair, "why did that monster not kill him?"

The very thought of it was enough to drive the older man insane.

"That is why no one else has made a move," he realized aloud, staring blankly at the center of the map. "If we march an army in there right now, we will not just be fighting that brat."

The commander nodded slowly, confirming his worst fear as he looked at the other men. "If Hajin and that monster are walking together, there is no claiming that region at all."

"Fuck," the Patriarch hissed, dragging a hand down his tired face as he let out a frustrated sigh.

He should have just killed the boy years ago, deeply regretting his decision to throw the talentless brat into the border slums instead of simply ending his life. Even the professional killers he hired from the assassin house had failed to eliminate him, meanwhile the boy continued to grow into a terrifying political headache.

The more he thought about his exiled son, the more his anger began to boil over, causing his mana to leak into the room, making the table tremble under the weight of his power.

The commanders immediately grabbed their throats, desperately gasping for air as his unrestrained aura pressed down on them, stealing the oxygen right out of their lungs.

"Patriarch," one of the commanders wheezed, his face turning a sickening shade of blue as he clawed at his own throat, "please."

Realizing he was about to accidentally execute his entire war council, the Patriarch slowly reined in his aura, pulling the dense mana back into his core. The men immediately collapsed against the table, coughing uncontrollably as they greedily sucked the air back into their burning lungs.

The Patriarch ignored their gasping, forcing his anger down as he stared at the map.

"We cannot afford to sit here and do nothing," he muttered, tracing a finger along the border of the region, "if we cannot march an army in there right now, we need another way to cripple him."

The older commander wiped the sweat from his forehead, taking a shaky breath before sitting back up.

"We target his foundation," the commander suggested, his voice still raspy from the lack of air, "the King expects him to build that region from scratch. If we cut off their supply lines and block merchants from entering, his territory will bleed dry before it even starts."

The Patriarch slowly dragged a finger across the map, tracing the main trade routes connecting the region to the rest of the kingdom.

"An economic blockade," he muttered, a slow, cruel smile finally breaking through his previous frustration, "if he cannot feed his people or buy building materials, the region will collapse from the inside out."

He looked back up at the commander sitting across from him, tapping his fingers against the table once more, "send word to the merchant guilds operating in our territory. Anyone caught doing business with that brat will be marked as an enemy of the Flint family."

The commander nodded, bowing his head respectfully as he stood up from his chair, "it will be done immediately, Patriarch."

"And send a team of scouts into the region," the Patriarch added, narrowing his eyes as he looked back down at the map, "I want eyes on him. If that monster is truly letting him live, I want to know exactly why."

Miles away from the Flint territory, a very different type of meeting was taking place inside the sprawling estate of House Seliza.

Matriarch Seliza sat elegantly at the head of a long table, wearing a dark crimson dress as she swirled a glass of wine and listened to her council. Her commanders were just as eager as the Flints to launch a territory war, arguing that the boy’s death was all but guaranteed in that monster-infested wasteland.

"We have prepared the vanguard," her top general reported, bowing deeply as he presented the logistics report, "if we march now, we can secure the borders before the other Great Houses even mobilize."

The matriarch took a slow sip of her wine, her cold eyes staring blankly at the map on the table.

"We are standing down," she stated, her calm, even voice immediately silencing the rest of the room.

The general blinked, visibly thrown off guard by the sudden and unexpected order, "Matriarch?"

"I have changed my mind," she explained, slowly setting her glass of wine down on the table, "the boy has survived in that territory for an entire week. The apex monster that sleeps there has not killed him, which means it is either ignoring him, or actively allowing him to live."

She leaned forward, a calculating glint flashing in her eyes, "that region has sat untouched for decades. It is overflowing with unmined gold and untapped resources. If that monster allows him access to all of it, he will quickly become the richest lord in the kingdom."

The general frowned, finally understanding the real angle as he looked at the map.

"If that happens," the matriarch concluded, a small, knowing smile finally playing on her painted lips, "would it not be far better to already be on good terms with the lord?"

The general’s eyes widened as he finally understood her angle, realizing that while a territory war was incredibly risky, an alliance with a wealthy lord was nothing but profit.

"Prepare some gifts," she ordered, slowly leaning her entire weight back into her plush chair, "if the boy is still alive in a month, we will go visit him and establish formal diplomatic ties."

A sudden chill swept through the room as her dark red mana began to leak out, twisting and coiling in the air behind her like a giant serpent.

"He is just a boy," she murmured, her cold eyes locked onto the map on the table, "easy to manipulate. Not everything requires brute force to conquer."

The commanders shivered as they felt the temperature drop, instinctively suppressing the urge to look away from her as they finally remembered exactly why the other Great Houses feared her.

She was definitely not known as the terrifying Serpent Queen for nothing.