Chap­ter X takes a bold step into explor­ing the bal­ance of pow­er between gen­ders in a soci­ety unlike any on the sur­face. What imme­di­ate­ly stands out is the pres­ence of true par­i­ty between the sex­es. From a young age, all indi­vid­u­als are giv­en the same respon­si­bil­i­ties and oppor­tu­ni­ties, whether in aca­d­e­m­ic, social, or even defen­sive pur­suits. This shared path allows every mem­ber of the com­mu­ni­ty to devel­op based on mer­it and not biol­o­gy. While the Gy-ei often dis­play more pro­nounced strength and ana­lyt­i­cal skill, this nev­er results in arro­gance or dom­i­nance. Instead, these abil­i­ties are seen as nat­ur­al dif­fer­ences to be hon­ored and bal­anced. The har­mo­ny is inten­tion­al, shaped by gen­er­a­tions of effort and under­stand­ing. No law forces equality—it has grown organ­i­cal­ly through shared pur­pose. The Gy-ei are not supe­ri­or by author­i­ty, but by abil­i­ty, and that abil­i­ty is wield­ed respon­si­bly.

Their con­trol of vril, espe­cial­ly among women, is not mere­ly phys­i­cal but deeply eth­i­cal. Though the Gy-ei could eas­i­ly dom­i­nate using their com­mand of this force, they choose restraint. This deci­sion stems from a cul­tur­al mem­o­ry of past upheavals, where unbal­anced pow­er once caused frac­tures in their social order. As a result, mod­er­a­tion and humil­i­ty are built into the cul­tur­al fab­ric. The Gy-ei’s refusal to abuse their dom­i­nance speaks vol­umes about the moral foun­da­tion of their soci­ety. Where pow­er could cor­rupt, it instead hum­bles. This shared aware­ness ensures that mutu­al respect pre­vails, not because it is demand­ed, but because it is earned. The Ana, though phys­i­cal­ly less impos­ing, are nev­er treat­ed as less­er. Their con­tri­bu­tions are equal­ly essen­tial, espe­cial­ly in diplo­ma­cy, edu­ca­tion, and fam­i­ly nur­tur­ing. Such roles are hon­ored with the same rev­er­ence as any phys­i­cal strength.

A dis­tinc­tive fea­ture of their cul­ture is the approach to love and com­mit­ment. Mar­riages are ini­tial­ly con­tract­ed for three years, with both par­ties decid­ing to renew or release the bond with­out shame. This built-in flex­i­bil­i­ty pri­or­i­tizes per­son­al growth and ensures no one remains bound in dis­sat­is­fac­tion. More unusu­al still is the tra­di­tion that women ini­ti­ate courtship. It is the Gy-ei who select their part­ners, a cus­tom root­ed not in dom­i­nance but emo­tion­al authen­tic­i­ty. Women, viewed as more in tune with long-term emo­tion­al res­o­nance, are trust­ed to iden­ti­fy gen­uine com­pat­i­bil­i­ty. Men wel­come this role rever­sal with grace, rec­og­niz­ing the log­ic and emo­tion­al intel­li­gence behind it. In rare cas­es, polygamy is per­mit­ted, but always by mutu­al agree­ment and sel­dom prac­ticed. The key theme is choice, not com­pul­sion.

Under­ly­ing their gen­der roles is a qui­et rev­er­ence for auton­o­my. Every individual’s val­ue is not mea­sured by con­for­mi­ty, but by capa­bil­i­ty and char­ac­ter. Strength and soft­ness are not at odds here; they coex­ist with dig­ni­ty. The Gy-ei, though mighty in pres­ence and mind, are nev­er detached from com­pas­sion. They are moth­ers, teach­ers, sci­en­tists, and lead­ers, but nev­er tyrants. Their strength nev­er sub­tracts from the Ana’s worth. Instead, it uplifts the col­lec­tive. His­to­ry taught them that unchecked pow­er leads to destruc­tion. So they chose a dif­fer­ent path: bal­ance over dom­i­nance, part­ner­ship over hier­ar­chy.

This society’s struc­ture chal­lenges many long-held human assump­tions about gen­der roles. It invites a deep­er look into how har­mo­ny can arise from dif­fer­ence, not sim­i­lar­i­ty. There’s no era­sure of iden­ti­ty here, only its ele­va­tion through mutu­al respect. The way vril is used reflects this phi­los­o­phy. It’s a force that can both heal and destroy, but only when guid­ed by wis­dom does it serve its high­est pur­pose. The Gy-ei embody this wisdom—not just in how they wield pow­er, but in how they choose not to. This restraint, more than any dis­play of strength, defines their great­ness. Through them, the soci­ety has become a mod­el of mea­sured equal­i­ty. Not forced, but nat­u­ral­ly evolved through mutu­al under­stand­ing.

In a world often divid­ed by gen­der com­pe­ti­tion, the exam­ple set by the Vril-ya is qui­et­ly rev­o­lu­tion­ary. It is not utopia born of same­ness, but of cul­ti­vat­ed dif­fer­ence embraced with grace. The nar­ra­tor, though star­tled by these cus­toms, can­not help but feel admi­ra­tion. The soci­ety he observes is not per­fect, but it has achieved what many oth­ers have not: a lived expres­sion of respect, respon­si­bil­i­ty, and the intel­li­gent dis­tri­b­u­tion of pow­er. And in this thought­ful, bal­anced world, each per­son is free to become the best ver­sion of themselves—not despite their gen­der, but through the strengths it brings.