Liya was absolutely, completely, overwhelmingly astonished by the notification.

Even A-ranks seldom interfered with other races' business. Whenever they did, you would find out sooner or later that they had been personally offended or that someone they cared about needed their interference. Only occasionally would they act for the right price, but it was so high that almost no one was willing to pay.

At their level, each of them was a deterrence weapon of mass destruction. If one of them got too handsy with other people's business, the others would wonder if their own interests would eventually get targeted.

Also, for all their tyranny—and they were assholes—they understood they needed the Alliance for stability.

Lastly, they were understandably afraid of dying for some stupid reason after living so long and reaching so high. One more step and they would reach S-rank, the peak of power in the multiverse. Even if they never took that step, they were already privileged and had few competitors.

Liya herself was alive because the A-rank who had come for her in Planet Seventeen had taken his time. She even suspected he had let her go and just meant to make her stop killing B-ranks—though, obviously, not from the goodness of his heart. He didn't want her to keep making a name for herself. Yet, he had let her go.

S-ranks had to worry about all that, too, and one extra thing:

Fights between S-ranks were illegal.

It was treason of the highest order. S-ranks were crucial for the Multiverse Alliance's defense. They were forbidden from fighting. Any issues they had needed to be resolved by having other S-ranks as intermediaries.

Hence, the notification's red color. It was only used for matters involving the Void, the Alliance's continued existence, or treason.

Liya had never seen an S-rank declare war on another. In fact, that had never happened in drow history.

Liya guessed that the End of All Things was Discontinuity's Title. He had only told her his name, but the similarities were unmistakable. Whenever the system mentioned a Titled being, it used the Title, not their names.

She half-suspected the war declaration was an illusion, a ploy, a trick. But it shouldn't be. Discontinuity had said her mind was alien to him, but he followed the logic. Liya could follow the logic in his actions, too, assuming the infinity-edger was sincere:

The S-rank had been so far disconnected from the lower levels of existence that he hadn't noticed what was happening below him.

He had claimed to be one of the Alliance's founders. How old was he? How did his mind even work compared to hers? Her own B-rank mind and hundreds of years of experience set her far apart from Shen, especially before his Realization Impartation. How far apart from her was Discontinuity?

He also said he had delegated the Summits' organization to other people. For how long? When had those people started lying to him?

They might not even have been ill-intentioned as they lied and hid things from him. Liya believed Discontinuity to be a hypocrite, so the people under him might also believe it after a long time. Especially when shit kept happening, and he didn't seem to mind.

That was especially true for an S-rank's inaction. Universe Superintendents, the only S-ranks one could easily contact, were nigh omnipresent within their universe. If they meant to find something wrong within the area under their command, they would find it as soon as it happened. That's how Liya had caught the attention of the S-rank that had helped her save Shen.

So, anyone would conclude Discontinuity wasn't ignorant about what was going on.

But if the infinity-edger wasn't lying, it seemed he had not been checking on the Summits. Perhaps he had overseen them initially but stopped after seeing nothing wrong for a while. Who knows what S-ranks actually did for the Alliance? What was their routine? The drow only knew about the Universe Superintendents' obligations.

Moreover, even if someone saw something wrong with the Summits, who would dare say it to Discontinuity's face? Could Discontinuity even be reached? The drow, for one, couldn't contact the S-rank if he hadn't come this time. And his arrival, instead of being seen as a positive thing, had made everyone afraid. Not even the A-ranks had dared to speak their minds. Even the clueless high elf had known to keep his thoughts to himself. That's how the Alliance worked.

So, maybe Discontinuity was as clueless as he had shown. It took many things to happen wrong at the wrong time, but he was old, and given enough time, anything could happen.

In this case, it had all started with the one responsible for something neglecting their duties.

And so, Liya laughed.

She laughed with bitter abandon. That was her entire point. The assholes at the top did whatever they wanted, and the weak had to pay the price. Countless had already died because the self-entitled good guys hadn't done their job properly. Now, countless more might die as one of them went on a self-righteous crusade.

It was decided. If Discontinuity survived, she would tell him more. Throw some truths on his non-existing face. Metaphorically spit on his hypocritical face.

Well, if he asked for her opinion, that is. She wasn't completely suicidal.

She had only done what she did because of the drow experience with Summits and her Realization. Or rather, her recent Realization. She had acted where A-ranks were afraid to because she still felt too full of herself, too confident of her Realization's inevitability. The A-ranks might have started having doubts about their Realization's future after not reaching S-rank for a while, which she took as a lesson. They also feared for their lives much more than she did. Liya had been in a unique position.

She thought of all of that within instants. Then, she got a new notification, this one yellow.

| The End of All Things (S) and Dusk Horizon (S) have agreed to discuss their differences with the High Command (PEAK).

So even a founder had to bow his head to the Alliance's rules. The High Command was the peak existence in the Alliance. Every S-rank was a member, and they had absolute power over everyone and everything.

She guessed the Tynanical Hypocrite Association—her fond nickname for the High Command—would soon force Discontinuity into serving on the frontlines forever or some other high-risk thankless task. That's how their politics worked.

She even felt a bit of pity. He had caused the death of many out of complacency, but he was better than whoever did it on purpose.

Her pity only increased when she received four new notifications.

| The End of All Things (S): You were partially correct. I found compelling evidence of foul play that weakens our defensive capabilities against the Void. It seems my explorations have kept me away for too long. I'll reveal the truth to the High Command and implement changes.

'Good luck, poor bastard,' Liya thought.

Now, she was even more certain he would be punished. He said he had been exploring? Then, he was disconnected from how the entire Alliance worked, not just the Summits.

He might even be executed so someone could politically gain something; he had certainly given High Command an excuse by declaring illegal war on a fellow S-rank.

| The End of All Things (S): I can no longer preside on this Summit. My previous order stands: you will be in charge. I have given you full authority and control over my household personnel within the boundaries of Summit-related activities. When in doubt about whether you can do something, ask Propriety, my butler. You can trust them; they traveled with me and share my beliefs. Show me what a genuinely fair Summit is supposed to look like. You have three goals. One, I want everyone to recognize the talent's ability to protect us from the Void. Two, I want the ones involved to grow closer and seek mutual protection for their talents. And three, I want to establish a grooming program after the Summit that won't make the talents competitors. That's what I envision for Summits.

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A grooming program? Liya had never heard of such a thing. If Discontinuity wasn't lying through his teeth, it seemed whoever organized Summits had grown much more corrupt than even Liya had guessed.

| The End of All Things (S) has sent three items to your Inventory: First-Class Summit Temporary Authority Badge (S), First-Class Summit's Costs and Resources List (B-), Ashvarir World Control Node (A+)

| Do you want to accept?

So, S-ranks could even get the system to act as a delivery company for them? That was certainly convenient.

"Accept," Liya said.

She had no choice in the matter. She had been ordered to organize a fair Summit by an S-rank. She could only deliver.

After all, it was her last chance to do anything useful in the Alliance.

Discontinuity would be dealt with, and she would soon follow. Either because she had told him the truth or because she was now working for him. When giants marched, their mere movement crushed the ants below their feet. A measly B-rank like her wouldn't make it.

But she didn't resent the infinity-edger. This was a marvelous opportunity to hone her Karmic Balance. For her, it mattered more than anything else, even her life.

Suddenly, a new infinity-edger made their presence known. Reality cried again, but not as hard as when Discontinuity had appeared. The responsible also didn't speak by changing Reality. Instead, it used the system.

| Propriety (A): What is your command?

Liya widened her eyes in shock. An A-rank was a butler?

Then, two other presences as powerful as Propriety and a hundred weaker ones—likely B-ranks—also made themselves known.

This was Discontinuity's household staff?

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. This level of power and servitude from such high-ranking beings went against everything the drow knew about how the Alliance worked.

These beings might be willing to serve an S-rank—they had no choice, really—but as butlers and whatever else the others were? Impossible. A-ranks were arrogant. They should at least demand better functions.

Only three possibilities could explain such a thing.

First, payment. Discontinuity might be paying them so much that they let go of their pride. The benefits of his employment beat any position elsewhere.

That was possible but unlikely. While the S-rank had displayed even S-rank furniture, a chair wouldn't matter for A-ranks. Discontinuity would need to offer many and too expensive benefits to suppress their pride. Not even an ancient S-rank could maintain that wage forever.

Second, slavery. Perhaps, Discontinuity was a terrible being with deep schemes, as Liya had first guessed. Maybe he had even forced High Command into a meeting to enslave them all.

That was more likely, but not by much. Slavery was forbidden in the Alliance outside rifts, but there were plenty of slave-like contracts enforced with special tools. Yet, as far as she knew, enslaving A-ranks was impossible, not to mention S-ranks.

Third, these people might legitimately believe in and share Discontinuity's worldviews. So much so that they found it worthy to serve him like this.

Logically speaking, that was the most likely possibility, but it went against everything the drow race knew about the Alliance. The "good guys" wouldn't jeopardize their foundations or interests out of the goodness of their hearts as they tried to protect the weaker races. That's why the "bad guys," like the ones who had supported the Dreamer, kept slowly but steadily increasing their influence.

But if Discontinuity was an actual S-rank who cared and went to war against another to preserve some semblance of goodness in the Alliance...

No. Impossible. Liya refused to believe it.

Discontinuity was incompetent, at the very least. And prideful. He had only cared about someone messing with his toy, the Summit. And he had enslaved those A-ranks.

Yes, that made more sense.

Not even the drow, for all their self-perceived moral high ground, would sacrifice their interests for a weaker race. Liya had protected Shen because he became drow, not because she cared about humanity. The drow wouldn't go to war for them.

Yet, she couldn't stop herself from wondering...

What if she was wrong? What if Discontinuity was a legitimately selfless being? That would mean the Alliance had much more depth and many more secrets than the drow had ever imagined. And if one founder could be uninformed, other powers that cared about a general sense of goodness might, too.

Usually, she wouldn't waste time with such assumptions. But usually, she had no way of checking the facts and drawing a conclusion.

She had now.

Liya bowed respectfully to Propriety—regardless of him being under her command, he was an ally A-rank—then humbly gestured to the inther. That was an artifact that accepted no falsehoods.

"Would you be willing to answer some questions for me?" she asked.

Everything might still be a big ploy. Discontinuity might've expected her to do everything she had until now. He certainly had a mind capable of making her play to his tune. These people might have been brainwashed, or this inther might've been sabotaged to accept false information from certain people. As she had told Tathdel, the S-rank had already proven it could lie when it did so to the talents. Only his own moral compass could stop him from lying to or tricking her.

But while Liya trusted no one, she had to limit his paranoia at some point, or she would be unable to live.

Her heart trembled at the butler's answer.

| Propriety (A): I'm willing. As long as it's limited to the Summit and related subjects.

That's all she needed. She could link almost any question about Discontinuity's beliefs and the Alliance's inner workings to the Summit.

Liya was either about to unveil a curtain of lies or fall so deeply into a bottomless scheme that she might never escape.

She could only hope it was the former.

For her entire being demanded she found such a light in the darkness if it was there. Her Karmic Balance required some sort of counterweight to all the shit she had seen in the Alliance.

If there was anything remotely good out there, she had to know.

As so, she asked questions.

And so, Propriety not only answered her questions but, understanding her worries, commanded the other A-ranks to answer her, too. He also let her pick B-ranks at random to give her answers. Lastly, he even guided her into purchasing a select set of primers from the system that let her confirm the inther hadn't been meddled with.

It could still be a scheme, but she had no choice but to conclude that if so, it was the best one she had ever seen. She could think of no reason at all for an S-rank to go that far. Even if Discontinuity wanted to deceive Liya or the drow into joining his camp or something, there were much easier ways to accomplish that. The drow had been tricked plenty of times before, after all.

Five Standard hours later, Liya sat down to restructure her entire worldview.

Her findings were both simple and profound. The Alliance was far from perfect. Her anger at what had happened to her people wasn't misguided at all. However, the Alliance's claim to want the greater good of all its members wasn't a lie. At least, it hadn't been when it was founded.

Discontinuity hadn't delegated the Summits to others because he was bored. Instead, he had gone to seek resources beyond the Alliance. While many factions bickered about where to invest resources and how to lower the costs of maintaining the Alliance—which ultimately bred monsters like the Dreamer—seven S-ranks had left to explore the multiverse millions of Standard years ago. They had wanted to find the rare materials required to build more System Nodes and Mana Generators.

Only five were still alive.

Yes, two S-ranks had lost their lives fighting for others.

Oh, their races would obviously also benefit from a stronger Alliance. There were plenty of gains to be had out there, too. But staying in the Alliance was much more comfortable, as proven by the majority of S-ranks who had just sat on their asses while the seven risked their lives.

Among the ones who had fallen was Discontinuity's eternal companion. His race was immortal, and when they bound, it was for their entire existence. Losing her was like losing half of himself.

That was one of the reasons the other four survivors had pushed Discontinuity to return. The other was that someone had to bring the first batch of materials they had found. No one had been willing to, for it meant safety, and they were ashamed of seeking comfort while their people risked their lives.

But Discontinuity had to recognize his grief—or as close to it as an infinity-edger's mind got—had affected him when one of his A-rank followers died on him.

Therefore, he returned. Yet, after delivering said materials, he had been told the frontlines were chaotic and brought his people to fight the Void. Every time things calmed down, there was another crisis. For thousands of years, he kept being led on by Dusk Horizon, whom he considered his best friend, until he was finally told the Alliance urgently needed more materials.

The other S-ranks around weren't his friends. Even the Guardian System had appeared after he left. He was that ancient. Two of the original founders were away from the Alliance, two were in seclusion, and the others had fallen in the fight against the Void. So, Dusk Horizon had mediated his contact with the new S-ranks, and Discontinuity saw nothing wrong with that.

He trusted Dusk Horizon. Why wouldn't he?

Right now, he was ready to leave to seek more materials. He had come to this Summit on a whim, without forewarning, and feeling guilty every second. He was being egoistical but needed to at least see the apple of his eyes before departing.

The logic was sound and easy to follow, but the infinity-edgers' minds were alien to Liya. She wouldn't be able to understand their thoughts if not for the inther translating them into something she could comprehend.

And they were alien indeed.

For instance, Propriety mentioned that Discontinuity hadn't liked finding out how corrupted and twisted everything he had fought for had become. Yet, Propriety reported no sadness or anger. There was something else, stronger, different. Something she couldn't even begin to understand.

More than anything, that difference is what convinced her everything was true. These infinity-edgers weren't saints, but they cared. They cared even more than she did. Where she pursued cold justice, they were... gracious.

All that wouldn't be relevant to many people. What did it matter that the Alliance was meant to be good? Right now, it wasn't. Actions and reality mattered, not ideals and possibilities.

But to Liya, personally, that changed everything.