Chapter 141 - Accusations

"Fuck you, Rupert! You think a serial killer and butcher like you deserves to rule the world? Become the uncontested dictator of the planet? Nah, go fuck yourself."

Illeana didn't miss the flicker of astonishment and…sorrow within her original target's melody as he snapped his head towards this new speaker—his quill coming to a pause.

She was caught unprepared herself as she wondered who to focus on, but she quickly found a solution to her predicament. Pinning her perception on the author of glyphs, she turned her gaze towards this foul-mouthed newcomer.

Brown hair, unclear face, and a very…foreign fashion sense. He wore a white, formless garment with a mysterious, oversized hood embellished with pointless cords. His legs were wrapped in indigo fabric, rugged and intentionally frayed, as if torn in a skirmish with an unseen adversary.

Rupert raised his arm, and all the visionaries stopped their chatter, looking down on the newcomer with derision, contempt, and schadenfreude. Illeana knew why. No one cares. Who here hadn't killed their fair share of people?

Anyone who'd shaded their perception a couple times was bound to have gone through mortal conflicts. The world had limited resources for observers, after all.

Heck, even she had a life to her name, much less these people who dropped all pretenses at the drop of the hat and jumped at this chance to enslave all of humanity.

Illeana didn't even need to use her vision to figure out what was going on in the newcomer's head. His body language made it more than obvious he was befuddled by their nonchalance and disdain.

"You all don't get it, huh? I guess I need to give you sons of bitches more than just this." He then pointed at Rupert and yelled, "This motherfucker." Rupert stared back with a flat expression that hinted at a bubbling rage, but the newcomer doubled down, "Yes, you, bitch."

With a flourish of his arms, he exclaimed, "This waste of human skin slaughtered the Lorendale clan down to their last cats and dogs."

Illeana frowned. She wasn't very versed in world politics, but even she'd heard legends of Lorendales. They were supposed to be the spiritual successors of the Institute.

A priest from the sixth row snickered, "Just sit down, you uncouth beast. You can't defame lord's title and make such grave accusations without any proof. No one even knows if Lorendales are real. Yet you accuse the lord of slaughtering them? This is embarrassing."

Some teenager added right after, "Hmm, I don't think someone as hot-tempered as you is suitable to act as an Overseer for the whole world." Turning towards the crowd, the teen added, "I vote for him to be stripped of the chance to join us as an Overseer of the council."

"Indeed. Such a young man who doesn't understand subtlety or nuance shouldn't be allowed to decide what to pick for food, much less the world's fate. I vote for him to be excluded as well."

More voices echoed this sentiment, and Illeana couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. The arrogance, gatekeeping, and elitism were already running rampant among them. This was when they had yet to taste any tangible power. She could only imagine how big their heads would get once they actually wielded true control over the thoughts of the planet's denizens.

Only if I was truly an Eterna, she sighed. I'd have called off this charade long ago. This made her wonder why the lord of primordial blood wasn't saying something about it.

Maybe he has the same reservations as I do? She bit her lip. Her silent acceptance of this ruse as another 'Eterna' probably wasn't helping either. After all, he'd have to think of it as him against not just Rupert but also everyone else in the room. Especially when he had far more to gain by siding with their plan.

Should I try and get him on my side? However, she soon shook her head. She wasn't actually an Eterna. If things really devolved into the worst case, it would already be a miracle if she could keep herself alive, much less actively fight others so many shades above herself.

She sighed for the umpteenth time. There wasn't much she could do to steer this situation towards a better outcome, and she knew it. All these deflections and misdirection were ways in which the 'rational' Illeana coped with all of it.

She shook her head and returned her mind to the proceedings as well as to the author of those glyphs in the bottom row. He was doing something she didn't understand, and it was a good distraction.

Dozen or so glyphs floated around him as he occasionally checked back, as if curious how the newcomer would handle this lynching.

With a scornful posture of his own, the man in spotlight snorted. "I wouldn't join your oppressive authoritarian orgy even if you begged me to. All of you that agree to this are sick fucks falling over each other to master an army of mindless puppets. Puppets of your own making."

Illeana's emotional vault which had remained as still as a lake until now, rippled hearing those words.

"As for proof?" He sneered and slid his hand into the pocket of his top, retrieving a contraption. It was a slim, rectangular object made of transparent glass, small enough to be grasped firmly in one hand. "Here's the proof of your lord savior ruthlessly obliterating an entire city."

He held it with an air of solemnity, and with a swift motion unfamiliar to Illeana, the surface came alive with colors and moving figures. She squinted, trying to make sense of the miniature tableau playing out in the palm of his hand.

It was as if he had captured a fragment of reality itself—a miniaturized film theater even, within the confines of this enigmatic device. The figures in the film ran haphazardly as a tall man in black with a bloody red eye in the middle of his forehead wreaked havoc and destruction, delivering despair without remorse.

The whole crowd quietened down, their eyes slowly turning towards Rupert. The man breathed heavily, almost as if genuinely enraged. After a deep breath, he hissed, "A slanderous bastard. My wife is a Lorendale herself. Are you insinuating I slaughtered my own in-laws?"

Right when the crowd made to gasp at this revelation, he smashed his cane hard, and the whole hall rumbled with a Thump! "Are you out of your fucking mind!?"

Following a wave of Rupert's hand, an image floated above it. The glowing scene depicted the nexus with the haughty newcomer in focus. However, soon, red vines erupted from his body, and he exploded into bits of gore and blood.

Obviously, that just happened within that image. The newcomer was still standing there, hale and hearty but a hint of defensiveness had definitely wormed its way into his body language.

Rupert didn't even need to elaborate for one of his cronies spoke for him, "Hah, are we all looking at this slimy bastard? He wants to sow discord among us by showing us his conjured illusions. As sir Rupert just demonstrated, anyone can fabricate false illusions. They mean nothing. A vile creature, really."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Blasphemy! This vulgar cretin is trying to smear Omniscient one's name by painting him as a slaughterer of the wise."

The newcomer in question snickered, "Well, sure, don't trust me. I'm nobody. But if there's even a sliver of chance that you'll be under such an insidious man who didn't think twice before killing his wife's family and refuses to show any remorse, it should give all of you a pause."

"It should make you reconsider this choice. Imagine what he wouldn't do once all of you are ensnared in his trap and he's actually inside your heads. All in the name of this consensus or whatever."

Illeana mulled over this vulgar but deep advice.

She'd sensed genuine rage within Rupert's demeanor at this assertion, but these words indeed held quite some weight to them.

That's when Rupert slammed his cane down with full force and rebuked, "Enough! If you have any real evidence, bring it forward. If not, stop trying to get a reaction out of me. I've touched upon it already, but let me reiterate that none of us would be able to access each other's thoughts without consent while we're connected."

The newcomer raised his chin higher and sneered, "Hah. Real proof? Are you suggesting I let one of you motherfuckers rifle through my memories? Fuck off. Disgusting pig." A revulsed look in his eyes, he snarled, "I just want to remind that you should all be wary. What if he changed his mind one day and decided to collapse your minds from within?"

Rupert who had been charged with fury until now, suddenly calmed down, and he spoke as if coaxing a child, "It's certainly in one's best interest to prepare for all eventualities. However, unnecessary fearmongering and hesitation only leads to one conclusion. Defeat."

He then turned towards the crowd, "Fellow visionaries, enough time has been wasted on these baseless accusations."

Leaning on the cane, he proclaimed, "I am sure everyone's concerned that I'm hiding some trick up my sleeve. However, what if I told you that no one even needs to lift the barrier of their singularities for the consensus to be achieved. Instead—"

He brought his hand to his chest and declared, "I'll be the one doing that. Giving you all a window inside my mind."

The whole crowd stopped dead in their tracks as the mild suspicion that had begun to creep up in the atmosphere fizzled away, giving way to astonishment. Even Illeana frowned. What is he doing? Is he really that confident in his strength? Why would he go so far as to open up his viewpoint to others?

The newcomer in the fourth row simply shrugged, "Your call, man. I tried. I just wanted to out this slaughtering wretch for who he really is. If all of you don't give a fuck, I give even less."

The teenager from before took this chance to pour some venom, "A terrorist is what you are, you imbecile!" Shaking his head, he proposed, "I suggest we strip him of his right to speak up in the nexus at all, otherwise he'll continue to waste our time. I know people like him. They thrive on attention and revel in becoming a nuisance to the order."

The newcomer made to comment but was drowned in a few breaths as the crowd passed another quick vote to silence him under the laws of nexus itself. It just needed a majority vote, not a unanimous one.

After such vehement opposition, Illeana felt like voicing her own concerns, but something held her back. It seemed that being unfettered by her emotional shackles didn't suddenly make her a more decisive person.

She tried reasoning to herself, Rupert is giving them too good of a deal. There's no way I can convince anyone otherwise. She didn't even have some damning proof like the newcomer did.

Yes, she was pretending to be an Eterna, but what if she opposed and still failed? All these men and women who pretended to respect her would flip sides at the drop of a hat. They'd vote her out of their council, and she'd lose her own autonomy as a direct result.

Ugh, a bit of light music would be perfect right about now. She'd love nothing more than to go back to her room and play something. This was…exhausting. She had no clue what this consensus really meant for the future of their world or if it'd even work.

She was just a lowly second-shade observer with her Father's gifts. She wasn't someone who could go against these observers in a fair fight or even the false king sitting on her rightful throne in Karthain.

After a while, she sighed, It just…doesn't feel right.

No more interruptions disturbed the proceedings anymore. And to their credit, some observers chose to voluntarily leave the nexus before this final step of the consensus.

However, most remained in their seats, including her annoyingly rational self, as well as the foul-mouthed newcomer as Rupert expounded on the methodology they'd follow to make it all work.

Sighing internally, she focused back to the author of glyphs, who emanated that same flat tone of profound greed. Now, however, fifty or so glyphs floated all around him, and his quill had long stopped—resting within his top pocket.

A curious light flashed through her eyes as she gazed at him. What exactly is he doing? It made no sense to her. At first, she'd thought he was sending notes to someone about this meeting, but that clearly wasn't the case.

Why would so many glyphs orbit him if all he did was send some stupid notes?

Then what?

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A tiny hope blossomed within the core of her mind. A hope for a change. A hope for a miracle. The unknown could be like that sometimes, no?

She knew it was stupid to expect anyone to go against the most terrifying observers of the planet, but a girl can dream, right?

She bit her lower lip, Maybe these glyphs are like some kind of protection? After all, they were in the Nexus made by the observers of Elyndor. It would make sense that their glyphs would somehow interact with the nexus in some shape or form.

Then, would he use them in a fight?

Before she could delude herself further, Rupert tapped his cane and almost everyone voted yes for another proposal aimed towards reducing the pressure of nexus a little bit.

With or without her consent, the matters continued to progress at a rapid pace. Soon, the restrictive pressure in all rows reduced just enough for Rupert to set the next part of his plan into motion.

Small glassy vines materialized out of the ground as Illeana mulled over Rupert's latest speech on how it was all going to work. It was far more sophisticated than what Estefans had proposed for sure.

Everyone would first link with each other using the Essence strands of Lightveins which Rupert had somehow managed to imprint in his own perception. This would allow him to act as a hub of sorts for all visionaries to share their insights and sync their ideas perfectly before they envision a shared reality.

Once that was done, he'd link himself to the core of nexus, allowing their shared vision to permeate the artifact behind it all. It was very well-thought-out.

Almost as if he'd planned all of it beforehand, she curled her lip. It was cute how he'd acted reluctant in the earlier parts of this meeting, playing out this whole situation as if he'd relented based on the feedback from the crowd.

Still, how did he manage to imprint the Lightvein legacy? she wondered. Father had mentioned of it in passing. It was supposed to be this brutally hard shade sequence that required a very specific personality and disposition to progress comfortably.

However, Rupert had gone a step beyond simple acclimation. He was already an Eterna in his own shade sequence. Yet, he still somehow managed to imprint the Essence Strands into his perception.

Given that it was from such a wildly different shade sequence, it was a miracle he hadn't lost himself to the whispers. Is the Lightvein shade sequence secretly interchangeable with the Gazebinder sequence?

If so, why had no one tried such a powerful combination before Rupert?

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Well, not like it mattered anymore. Things were already in motion.

All Lightveins manifested a different form for their essence strands, but Rupert's rendition looked like a standard network of glassy vines, extending all around the nexus like a tough one, its segments further splitting to bloom into a flower in front of every observer.

Everyone hesitated to interact with it, and Illeana was only the second worst offender. Next to herself, the lord of primordial blood didn't even glance at the peculiar thing and filed away at his unnecessarily sturdy nails.

With a curt bow, Rupert said, "I put my trust in all of you with this. I hope you will reciprocate."

No. she refuted the man in her mind. She wasn't going to interact with it until the last moment. If nothing, she wanted her displeasure with this whole charade made very clear. She didn't really buy the whole idea of restricting everyone's thoughts for some man's wild ambitions.

It was against the nature of humanity itself.

She very much wanted to rub her forehead, but it wouldn't be a good look for her to appear distressed. She couldn't show weakness. Not right now.

Given things were already at such a juncture, a sense of urgency welled up within her, held at bay by nothing other than the emotional vault.

It is really happening, she repeated to herself, hoping it'd somehow sink in and permeate through to her core.

Seconds passed in a silence of inaction. Right when she started cheering in the hope that everyone was getting cold feet, that priest in the sixth row closed his eyes and shouted, "FOR MOTHER!" and plucked the flower out of its stem.