Act X had nothing more to say after her deal with Oboros Infinitas. A selection of Repenters would be used to follow the heinous acts required by the Scripts. The true nature of the Fate Mechanism was neutral according to Marionette.

It demanded only what was required to fulfil the Fate it fed into its Living Looms. Frost didn’t agree that it was all a matter of interpretation. The way the Scripts were worded left little room for interpretation.

‘Spilling the guts of your neighbors’ couldn’t mean anything other than murder. But Marionette insisted that the Script never told them to spill their neighbor’s guts directly. It could be the guts of something else but belonging to the neighbor.

How could anyone possibly interpret this any other way in a world where violence was the norm? Marionette never questioned the bells of the Fate Mechanism. What she heard was drip fed to the Interpreters, who then delivered the message to the Indites. The process was not described as Marionette herself did not know.

If she did, then interference from the Impuritas would be possible. It was why they were largely untouched by the Sect of Gears. The secrecy of Act X followed in a similar vein to Anna’s aversion to reading specific books, and as it turned out – Marionette was aware that knowledge was not sacred to oneself.

“I have learned it from our silent Archivist.” Marionette hollowly smiled. “I was tugged along by her soundless voice. That knowledge can be stolen. Minds can be read like a book. Our memories the pages, and our senses as its words. Interpreters determine the meaning of my own interpretations. Then it reverberates down to the Indites. From the Entities, it falls into the hands of the Harolds and Missionaries, who order all strands of the loom, to the Strand Deacons and all my adorable Neophytes.”

“How can your message’s integrity remain after being passed down by so many people? Frost expressed her concern, to which Marionette replied with:

“Isn’t that all according to the will of the Fate Mechanism? I’m not concerned with what I output as much as I am that they are obeyed. It’s not done unwillingly either. Flocks will gather by my streets seeking protection. Is it not fair that we also ask for their obedience in return?”

“By making them ‘spill concrete into the cake batter of an orphanage’?” Frost randomly thought of a nonsensical Script, further amusing Marionette.

“What they do thereafter negates it. A decent soul would have made amends. But people are fickle. The shock is too great. The guilt weighs on their conscience like a chain.” Her contrarian words were stated as a matter-of-factly.

Frost couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Is that truly what you believe…?”

The Beholder’s head creaked as it turned to the side like the hand of a broken clock.

“Amalgam. Why do I have to convince you of my beliefs? I hear its song. To me, there is no greater freedom than to be relieved of such thoughts. The agency we have is what allows us to break. There is no greater mercy than for it all to be hacked away. To bathe there beneath the sun with no limbs and no mouth to shout or cry, but to only allow what the world wants.”

Her head twisted until it returned to normal with a hideous snap. The joints found along her semi-metallic arms cracked like broken branches.

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“Accepting this is the gateway to understanding the meaning of purpose. Desires. Ambitions… it’s all wasted when we are but pieces on a board. When a pawn tries to jump away, it must be discarded. When an actor misses their turn, then they ruin the overall theatrical.”

Marionette was a Nilhind. Her words may have very well described a facet of her past. As an entity that was born without arms or legs, Frost could only wonder how she ended up as a Beholder.

But she didn’t dare to imagine what her life must have been like.

“Arguing what we believe in is futile. I agree at least on this. Marionette…” Frost ventured into the depths of those devoid eyes. They consumed her like a dark cloud enveloping the sun. Within that darkness was nothing. Absolutely nothing. No matter where she turned, she could not see a glimpse of light.

Marionette’s eyelids fell like the curtains to the end of a play, and she kept them closed for the remainder of the Council.

She then uttered:

“My role as the protagonist has long been over. I am the husk of what was. Don’t I feel like a cold machine stuffed into the human skin? Ah. Ha. Ha… I care little for there is comfort in the strings.”

Multiple strands were connected with whatever was hidden behind her back. Her hunchback quivered, gaining mass as a light churning of a loom could be heard.

“… a cold machine stuffed into the human skin…” Nav repeated, oddly infatuated by this phrase. “This feeling… is this what you call sympathy? I can understand it. Do you think I’m the same?”

No. You’re different. Completely different. You have ambitions. Wants. Desires. You can joke, smile, and laugh. Please don’t compare yourself to a broken Beholder.

Frost assured. Nav unfortunately didn’t respond.

“So –!” Enoch rubbed her hands together, eager to begin. “ImpulseWorks! There’s nothing to note. Just the usual. 150 new Corrupted have been added, 130 at Trickle, 15 at Hailstorm, 4 at Monsoon and 1 at Eternal Night. The Eternal Night Corrupted was dealt by the Moons of the Nexus. No Sites are down, so expect Nex to keep streaming in.”

Of the 150 Corrupted, 20 were either terminated or used for training by their Workers. Frost saw value in following in their steps. If she were to create Moons from scratch, then using ImpulseWork’s facilities may be a good idea, alongside the Corrupted Archived within the Floors of the Nexus.

But she also wanted to go further than just using their facilities.

Enoch mentioned that Code Red was no longer valid since Scarlet Logic could no longer respond to their calls. What they could use instead were Moons. It would serve as both training as well as guarantee a Site’s survival.

“Code Blue. Blue for Moons~! What about Code Black if we ever wanted to use your Black Wings?”

“Moons are specialized to fight the Corrupted. Healers won’t be thrown against them. Ever.” Frost spoke threateningly, which caused Enoch to smile happily. “A shame. I would have loved to devour those Corrupted for myself. But that would mean less Nex. There are larger Corrupted to catch, but I may pay one of your Sites a visit with the intention of consuming something.”

“I hope you can at least wait for our permission. Eating a Corrupted that generates 50% of a Site’s Nex alone would be problematic.” Enoch shook her head, chuckling. “That being said, can I ask one more thing in exchange for using our Sites?”

“Speak.”

“Your knowledge. You can categorize the Corrupted, right? I heard from F-H5’s Overseer that you made corrections to a misidentified Corrupted. Oh, and the detained Green Thing.”

This ‘Green Thing’ she referred to was undoubtedly Ara.

“So – what I wanted to really ask was your collaboration in fixing our Corrupted Codex. It’s our compendium of every and all Corrupted stored across our Sites. With your knowledge, we’ll be able to accurately classify the Corrupted.”

“It works better as an identification tool. People with my Blessing are not able to determine the fine details of a Corrupted, but they can do what no Blessed can. That is the ability to read the stats of a Corrupted and therefore, can identify one at a glance.” Frost explained, her eyes emitting a newfound glow which would inspire the name of Frost’s very own identification system for the Corrupted.

It would introduce the concept of Origins and the Affinities, as well as stats. Conditions and special abnormalities could be identified by those with the Blessing of the Amalgam, confirmed by Nav who was able to relay the Conditions of the Corrupted in the absence of Frost’s eyes.

And Enoch would come to appropriately name this identification system the Amalgam’s Eye.