Chapter 135 - Critical Consensus

Horace paced through the hall, his hands behind his back. "As of last week, Weft of Elyndor is the only vision that encompasses every inch of our realm. As some of you may know, it is the backbone of Convergence notes, allowing us to communicate across our planet, albeit on strange rules."

"Until Duskfall, everyone believed the records of past eras, which suggested that the supreme one created this weft by assimilating the viewpoint of every observer from Elyndor—the underground city."

Vern frowned. Assimilate? What does that even mean practically? Did the First observer just eat them or something?

Horace then stopped and scanned the hall, "But as you might have guessed, we were obviously wrong. The source of the weft isn't the First observer. It never was. For, if that were the case, the weft should've disappeared alongside the supreme one."

Vern stole a quick glance around him, and while some of the expressions were entirely impossible to read, the rest were either worried or concerned.

Vern wasn't sure what to feel about this. He didn't even know about First Observer an hour ago, so all of this was like a tale far removed from himself.

On one hand, the fact that they assumed the First Observer to be the owner of the weft meant they didn't know about Lady Sylphina. On the other, Horace was just setting up the context to make a point, which might as well be related to her.

What should I do?

From his understanding of the matter, Lady Sylphina didn't want to be noticed by others. But then again, if these people already knew all about her, there wasn't much he could do.

Hmm, let's just listen for now.

"That is to say, our friends and families are still alive because of the existence of this very weft—the last gift of the supreme one. If not for this realm-encompassing vision, we would've blinked, and the entire world would've slipped through our fingers when the dusk fell."

Vern nodded internally. Yes, we should all be grateful.

"Unfortunately," he stopped pacing and shook his head. "If everything was working as intended, there would've been no reason for us to pay the astronomical costs needed to arrange for this confluence."

Checking everyone's reactions to his words, Horace continued, "The reason we're all gathered here is simple—even this second lifeline, as unexpected as it may be—is failing."

Ah, crap. They know. Vern finally understood where this was going.

"It isn't a secret that the rate at which the world is healing the subjectivity pollution is horrible, and like I said, even that is a miracle. Yet, every day that passes by, those healing capabilities are dwindling at an unsustainable pace."

""

The burly man's face suddenly gleamed with…sadness, and he said, "So ten days ago, my father," Horace pointed at a handsome-looking man with shoulder-length red hair in the seventh row, "the ruler of Estefan invoked the fate."

"And as your family and organization's leaders may have told you before coming for this confluence," his expression turned grim, "We have naught but a couple weeks before the weft loses its grip on reality."

Whahhh

"Master really wasn't kidding, then?"

"Damn! Only two weeks!?"

"Why the hell did you wait so long to tell us? We're wasting time sitting here. I should be spending the last days with my wife."

The whole hall became a mess of accusations, conspiracies, and a fair bit of cope. Vern ignored the chatter and pondered the man's words, So Lady Sylphina only had a few weeks before she had to make a decision?

However, he suddenly realized something. Wait. Haven't I already solved this problem, then? Lady Sylphina was getting weak because of not being observed at all.

Yet, his unique circumstances allowed him to alleviate that. Not permanently, but it definitely wasn't as bad as they were making it out to be. Vern gave his pen a rest and leaned back. This was getting interesting.

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Horace's brows furrowed, looking at the devolving crowd, and he stomped his foot with a loud thump, followed by his booming voice, "STOP! This is no time to panic! I need all of you to act your station and maintain your composure."

This indeed slowed down the discussion, and he continued, "In light of the graveness of our situation, My father, a former Eterna, paid the heaviest of the price to steal more from fate."

Oh?

Horace closed his eyes, almost as if containing the words that threatened to burst out. Vern looked back at the said former Eterna, who was now sitting in the seventh row. Unlike his son, the man's face was bursting with pride, and he accepted others' gratitude with a smile.

Soon, the burly man up front managed to control himself and spoke in a wavering voice, "Through his sacrifice, he learned something of immense value." He paused.

But soon continued with a hint of regret in his tone, "We learned that weft of Elyndor is borne not of an observer, but a perceptual artifact, one that used to be part of First observer, one that is keeping us afloat, one that is losing its steam this very moment."

Huh? No. That's straight-up wrong.

But then he remembered Lady Sylphina's words, 'My gaze and the record are a cheap imitation of first's gaze.'

Hmm, could he be talking about the Objectivity Record? It sounded like an artifact, after all.

The more Vern thought about it, the more it made sense. He had no clue how fate or divinations worked, but it was possible that the objectivity record and Lady Sylphina's fate were so intertwined they confused the two during their divinations.

So, they really don't know about Lady Sylphina. A wave of relief washed over him. He didn't quite understand her reasons for wanting to stay hidden, but she'd made her stance quite clear.

That's when he remembered something. Wait, I know.

More dots connected in his mind, and he lampooned, She probably doesn't want a repeat of what happened with the first observer. Given how even someone strong enough to affirm the whole of Prima all by themselves went 'missing,' who was to say she wouldn't meet the same fate if her presence was revealed?

Vern’s expression turned solemn. That would be disastrous. I hope they don't plan on seeking her out.

"Ever since Royal Father figured out this truth, the wisest observers of Estefan kingdom and the Coven of Truth have been working tirelessly to find a solution. And find a solution they did."

Wait, what? Vern wasn't sure he hadn't just imagined that. Did he just say Coven of Truth? Vern fished into his pockets, and his hands felt the shape of the hourglass on his emblem from the coven.

He can't be talking about the same coven, right? That…that would make no sense, right? The Coven of Truth Vern belonged to, was just a big congregation of fundamentalists.

Or am I just not in the know? He was unsure.

"So, Visionaries, we've gathered all of you here for one simple reason."

The whole crowd suddenly turned silent.

"To arrive at a consensus and affirm the rules and ideas of the said artifact. To rejuvenate its drying source of inspiration and ideas with our own, and not give up on our world without a fight."

Ahh?

As if mirroring Vern's confusion, someone from the crowd chuckled, "Are you pulling our leg, Lord Estefan? I know we observers like to pretend our gaze can change the world, but it's in no one's interest to overplay our abilities. We can't just will something into existence that we don't even understand."

"Hah. This is the solution that the 'wisest of the observers' came up with? Disappointing."

However, Horace raised his hand in the air once again, forcefully culling all the commotion, "I understand everyone's skepticism. So let me explain the rationale."

He pointed at the lotus dome above them all and continued, "According to our research, this nexus, as its name suggests, is where all the threads of the weft of Elyndor come together. And as we've already established, the weft is borne out of the said artifact. So we're essentially inside the artifact right now."

"Yet, that's but a single reason. Don't forget that we're the visionaries of this realm who can envision the highest of the concepts—so even if this artifact is a piece of the First observer themselves, no aspect of it would be left unobserved if we all come to a consensus."

"That's not even all. Remember that this artifact doesn't have much representation left to its name, so its defenses to outside influence aren't much. Finally, since not many know about its existence, the unified perspective has no memory that we'll need to erase first."

Okay, what the fuck? This was some mind-fuckery. This was precisely what he feared one could do the first time he encountered observation.

"And like I said, we've done our research." Horace smiled and plucked at empty air. Right when Vern began to wonder if the man had gone senile, the space in front of him split, and a sheaf of parchment materialized out of thin air.

Vern looked on with his mouth agape. What kind of vision is this? Can I also use it if I master the underlying fundamentals?

A thick stack in his hand, he moved towards the crowd, surely with the intent to distribute them physically. "This is why we needed these ten days. Most of it was spent reverse engineering the clues of fate to figure out the best blueprint of the artifact we could provide all of you. The kind that will supplement the artifact's abilities and rejuvenate its aura if affirmed by everyone."

Vern extended his arm forward to accept the paper, eager to see the design. As much as he was scared of such an idea—of reality itself being so malleable, it was exciting, too. It seemed they planned to use the imagination of the best observers on the planet to envision what was defined within the blueprint to affirm the rules and essence of the objectivity record.

Hmm, this might actually be a good thing. As long as the blueprint is indeed supplemental in nature, this will really benefit the stability of Prima.

He almost wondered if Lady Sylphina had been a bit too mistrustful.

That's when a voice boomed behind Vern, "That's enough, young Estefan. It's not a good habit to impose your viewpoint and ideals on others."

On the highest row, the third and final Eterna other than the lady in the rouge dress or the lord of blood, stood up, grabbing his regal looking cane from his throne.

Tap. Tap.

"And it's certainly worse to present a nuanced situation as if there's only one solution to it."