Chapter 143 - Contradictions
Hensen bubbled with rage, so his smile grew softer. He wished to etch this disgrace in his memories, so it became nothing but a fleeting one. He wanted to scream, so his vocal chords stiffened.
Not that it mattered, for these waste of skins had stolen his right to speak in the nexus anyway.
They all wanted a world that'd essentially end his life. What difference was there between dying and being unable to serve Mistress? None.
Apart from some complications due to the rune in his head, he'd been having the best time of his life. Could there even be anything more fulfilling than following Mistress's every order down to the letter—serving a purpose grander than himself?
Was there really any higher honor than watching Mistress illuminate this realm of gloom and despair with her unmatched radiance?
None.
However, if these intellectual barbarians were to have their way, the whole world would become Rupert's eyes. And there was no way Mistress would keep him around if it meant Rupert could glean her plans through him—not that he wouldn't kill himself before inflicting such harm upon Mistress.
Hensen clutched at his heart, an ecstatic grin covering his face as the thought of Mistress going against the world all by herself saddened him to no end. It minced his thought space and crushed at his singularity. And so he chuckled.
The idea of being denied to serve her was so disgusting it made him laugh out loud.
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That's when someone shouted, "Burn her!"
Hensen snapped his head towards the voice and stared at the source with a murderous gaze. These wastes of skin were trying to justify killing an Eterna for their whatever plan. AN ETERNA! As if birth of an Eterna wasn't the result of cosmic alliance and the will of world itself.
The muscles on his face twitched, and he opened his mouth, scathing insults churning on the tip of his tongue.
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Which obviously ended up with him biting it instead.
"Off with her head!"
"Kill the witch!!"
"Burn her!"
"Cull her!"
Hensen ran his left hand through his hair, nodding his head side to side. It was infuriating. So infuriating he couldn't contain the joy at all.
He hissed, trying and failing to stay inconsistently inconsistent. However, the sly fox that was Rupert continued to rile the crowd, using the wishes of the masses to further suppress her. Others may not see it, but he knew. This was Rupert's method of killing an Eterna.
After all, physical attacks alone weren't nearly enough to kill Eternas. Blinking rapidly, he thought with a burning itch, Rupert's trying to destroy her singularity. Just like he attempted with Mistress.
This weak fuck had tried to assassinate Mistress after their temporary alliance post-Duskfall ended in a disaster. The vision he used was called the Gaze of the Fallen.
Hensen didn't know all the conditions that had to be met for Rupert to activate it, but the moral superiority and psychological victory of the user were the two known ones. Both of which he'd just achieved against this Eterna.
Surely, he was doing something right now to fulfill other conditions.
Fuck! he chuckled, only to grimace in the next instant.
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Frowning and actually succeeding this time, Hensen ignored the contradictions within himself and focused. This was a terrifyingly unique vision—one of the few that could permanently kill otherwise unkillable Eternas.
It somehow wholly negated the resurrection artifacts from past eras, as well as visions that achieved a similar function. Obviously, Hensen didn't know the extent of this vision, but this was the reason almost no one fucked with Rupert.
It was already incredible that Rupert—no, no. It was terrible. Terrible that Rupert had managed to somehow rally everyone to agree with his mandate. Not that Hensen was against it personally either.
If he'd also become an Overseer of the council, it would have significantly sped up Mistress's plans. He would have been of great use to her!
However, Rupert's men had vetoed him out from the council on the first chance they got. After all, their prior animosity had yet to be settled. Worse, Hensen couldn't even argue against it right now.
Seething ice raged in his thought space as the fire froze every notion it touched. The raving noise breached his mental barrier, and he struggled to find some way out of it. He didn't want his days of servitude under Mistress to end like this.
He bit his knuckles, and only when his tongue tasted copper did a semblance of control wash over him.
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"It's getting…worse," he murmured, his voice trembling. It…it was…it was bad.
He generally never let the contradictions pile up this high, but the suppression from the nexus made it so he couldn't untangle his fucked up head.
Suddenly, his gaze shifted over to the intricately crafted lighter tucked into his coat's pocket, and he gulped. A ravenous smile emerged on his face, and his hand moved towards the contraption like a cart rushing downhill to its doom.
Yet, the moment his finger came in contact with the cool metal, his hand jerked away, and he jolted back in his seat.
A shudder went down his spine, and he chomped down on his knuckles, feeling the bone crunch under his teeth. Shivering, he pulled out his bloody hand and slapped himself in the face. Paa!
Finally, some clarity entered his mind, and he reasoned, Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
He couldn't use Mistress' precious gift to merely help with these routine contradictions. No, that'd be a gigantic waste. He'd essentially kill all possibilities of serving mistress if Rupert's plan really worked out.
No, he had to instead find the perfect moment to use it.
There was a reason he'd sat through this entire meeting in this terrible state of mind and hadn't just left the nexus.
The worse his mental state before the activation, the better the effect her light would have on his viewpoint.
It was the only light in the universe that helped him ignore the fog and whispers that eternally clouded his mind.
The light that allowed him to be...himself for single moment.
The moment of pure lucidity.
The moment when he could unleash his unique vision.
The single moment where he'd flip the fucking table if they continued to try and separate him from Mistress.
The single moment that may very well result in the end of the world given how his vision—if it worked—would introduce contradictions in the consensus that'll decide the world's new rules.
As if I give a fuck about that. He laughed, wiping his handkerchief on his hands. All he cared about was continuing to serve Mistress.
And he would be dead to her for all intents and purposes if Rupert succeeded and he failed to worm his way into the ruling class. Which didn't seem very likely as things stood.
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So why not take a chance and shake things up?
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With all of this running through his mind, he somehow managed to pull his attention back to the charade up high. His cane gleaming red, Rupert riled up the crowd one final time.
However, Hensen suddenly had a stupid urge to see it all by gouging out his eyes.
Fffuck. He groaned. This wasn't gonna work. His body was going against him. To figure out when to take that leap of faith and utilize Mistress's gift, he had to at least have full control over his faculties.
So he gritted his teeth and decided to take a safety measure. It'd mess his head up further in the long term, but he was really out of options right now.
His mind made up, he focused on the two dim inverted triangles inside his mind and channeled his thoughts towards them.
It was the rune of the Cryptic Constructor—his pride and burden. For reasons beyond his understanding, he'd been unable to make contact with it for a while.
So when a couple weeks ago, a distinct pull arose from within it, he'd left all his tasks unfinished and voyaged east across the lost cities and crumbling lands in a frenzy—leaving Mistress's side.
The scholars of his Aetheric Collective believed the pull could point them to the origin of Elden descent for the Cryptic One, and no way in seventeen hells those greedy old bastards would let such an opportunity slip by.
Sadly, the pull grew weak over time, and he lost the trail before anything could come out of it.
It sounded like a dead end, but it wasn't. Before he'd left to chase this trail, the scholars had already predicted such a situation. So, following their advice, he'd found himself a local traveler from where the trail ended, bringing the man back to the collective.
This way, whenever this pull appeared next, he would teleport right back and be hot on its heels in just a few minutes. Not that he cared much. He just wanted to make sure Mistress would recognize him and…
Hensen shook his head. Focus!
Not allowing this momentary clarity to slip from his fingers, he created something akin to a loop of thoughts around the rune.
Almost instantly, a rigidness, unlike any other, permeated his thoughts, and his body, which had been a chaotic mess of adrenaline and hormones, slowed down.
Despite its drawbacks, using the burden to filter and screen his thoughts provided crucial relief for a head as fucked up as his. However, this method did inflict lasting damage on his psyche, with each use causing the permanent loss of some insights.
In but a few seconds, the effect permeated his entire being, and a jolt ran down his spine. Everything felt rigid at first. Like his body only followed him if he performed the actions in a certain way. Well, such was the price of letting a construct filter his viewpoint.
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However, he soon narrowed his eyes, intelligence shining within them. The orchestra which performed in his mind without a conductor slowed down and he breathed out.
That's when Rupert shouted, "FOR HUMANITY," his cane glowing with a demonic glow.
A hateful look crossed Hensen's face as the implications of this witch hunt dawned on him properly. Nothing was going to stop this council of overseers.
The cane made to impale Lady Eterna's heart, and Hensen steeled himself for what was to come next. Once this charade was over, he had to be ready to use Mistress' lighter at the drop of a hat.
Sad that this lady Eterna is about to die. He obviously wouldn't waste his single moment of lucidity on trying to save someone else. Things didn't work like that. Not that his vision was suitable for such a task anyway.
This was real life. It was her mistake for not understanding her own limits. It was her fault for failing. If he'd tried something stupid and failed, well…he'd deserve the punishment.
Why would it be any different for her?
It is over, he sighed. It'd have been great if she'd at least injured Rupert. Then, maybe, just maybe, someone else would have taken over the stage, giving Hensen a chance to slip back into the council.
Sadly—
He frowned. "Huh?"
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Thump!
Suddenly, the world went dark, and Hensen instinctively tapped into his perception, only to have it be suppressed ruthlessly.
What!? he gawked around himself, trying and failing to make out his surroundings, even with his impeccable eyesight. What is going on? he thought, an unease growing within him.
A voice cut through the alarmed cries in this eerie darkness and rose above all the distress, echoing deeply, "Disappointing."
Hensen snapped his head to the source of this voice, and his heart came to an abrupt stop.
Two rings that burned almost as bright as Mistress's light with another even deeper darkness within them were glowing from somewhere in the lower rows.
As if everyone else had also noticed that striking pair of eyes—not just rings, their agitated screams and dumb hollers came to an abrupt stop. With that, the whole hall—deficient of any light, drowned in a heavy silence, too.
Hensen watched those rings with rapt attention as their owner began to walk.
Tap Tap
Each of their steps reverberated throughout the hall, and everyone held their breaths. However, one of those steps was different than others.
Tap they hit the floor another time, and the height of those soul-piercing rings changed.
"What is going on!?" some low-shade observer yelped. "Did…did he just ascend higher?"
Hensen turned his seat around completely, not caring about the darkness at all.
"Wait. Isn't he the guy that was sitting in the first row underneath us!? How could this be?"
Ohhhh… the crowd gasped, surely making wild conjectures like he did. His spine tingled, and only one thought rang in his mind—Could this be another Eterna?
Yet, some moron shouted, "How dare you mess with the nexus!? Identify yourself!"
The bearer of those void-like rings didn't bother responding and continued his ascension, one step at a time.
Hensen's heart began to race faster. A change! he screamed. He'd take anything over Rupert's bullshit right now, much less someone who could bend the rules of nexus itself.
"Hey, I can't sense the essence strands at all! What is happening to the Omniscient one? What happened to the execution?"
That question forced the whole crowd into another lull of silence, and Hensen grinned when that sly bastard Rupert didn't respond to this at all. He couldn't already be dead, could he?
Hensen chuckled. The thought was amusing, but surely, things couldn't be that simple. He leaned forward, and his head shifted back as he watched the proceedings with great anticipation.
Following up this silence came a voice of reason, "Something's wrong with Nexus's lights. Did someone bring a mundane lighting contraption? If so, we should use it right now!"
Heh. Observers were so used to tapping into their perception and using myriads of visions for sights that being blinded like this—both in the perceptive realm and physical one surely grated at the nerves of many.
Tap. Tap.
Soon, a small yellow light appeared on the far left corner of the hall, revealing a pale face that seemed straight out of some ghost story. She held but a little candle that barely illuminated anything.
Another one tried to light their cigarette with a flint, and someone complained, "Bah. This is nothing? Where are the fundamentalists when you need them? It is pertinent we sort this out quickly. We shouldn't waste any time."
Tap. Tap.
Sounds of tinkering and fiddling came from above Hensen while the ones beneath continued to count each of the steps.
"He's…he's already on the fourth row! What? How? Nexus should have made it impossible for him to suppress his singularity all the way down to first-shade observer. What is going on? Don't tell me…"
In the heart of an abyssal hall, where shadows draped every corner like a velvet curtain, he ascended. The steps beneath his feet were the only sounds that dared to echo against the oppressive silence of the darkness. Each stride was measured, a slow cadence that seemed to command time itself to pay heed.
"Found it!" came another shout, and then, a fickle beam of light—a traitor to the gloom—sliced through the void, a fleeting spotlight on the enigma that was the Master of Ceremonies.
A majestic figure dressed in rugged black overalls that suited him so well it made Hensen jealous, continued his march. However, when Hensen looked up, the sight caught him by surprise. In place of a hazy, veiled face that showed no features, there was a…mask.
Hensen frowned, and right when he narrowed his eyes to get a better look, the beam of light flickered and disappeared.
"Huh?" came the puzzled voice of the one who held the light source. Thump Thump, he smacked the contraption, but the beam didn't stabilize—flickering endlessly.
Tap Tap
Hensen scrunched up his nose and watched the figure ascend higher than his own row in the backdrop of darkness where the only light source trembled as if awed by the this entity's strength.
That's when the light flickered to full strength for a fleeting moment once again, and the whole hall gasped.
Hensen furrowed his brows. The mask the entity wore was…interesting. It seemed to reveal a stark dichotomy, and Hensen knew from more than just experience that every little detail about an observer spoke volumes about their viewpoint and singularity.
Much less something so intentionally symbolic. On one side, a network of lines and geometric precision and order overlaid the white backdrop, while the other half was pitch black, an ode to entropy—an intricate collage of jagged edges and fractals that seemed to disintegrate and crumble away from the mask.
However, this was just how it looked like at a glance. After a couple seconds, when the lightning struck true once again, the patterns renewed.
The order on the white side gave way to chaos, while the ashen particles on the dark side condensed back into pure mass, reintegrating with the mask.
Hensen watched on in fascination, and the stunned silence was more than enough to tell him that others were doing the same.
Even the man holding the light gave up and left it to its whims. This allowed Hensen to get a look at that mask every other second, a glimpse into the fascinating cycle that transpired.
Order borne chaos, while instability bred stability.
It was a perpetual cycle of creation and destruction. A seamless transition of one extreme into the other.
For a heartbeat that seemed to outlast time, the light lingered, and in that ephemeral glow, the mask covered all that was human, leaving only his eyes.
Hensen almost felt like he was back in the realm of Cryptic One, for the composition and structure had nigh-infinite wisdom behind it. That mask alone showcased insights beyond what most could conjure in their whole lives.
Hensen suddenly shuddered. Could this be an Eterna on the path of Cryptic Constructor!? That'd be terrible for him.
"Sixth…SIXTH ROW! Oh, no."
"No. No. No. Another Eterna!?"
"Oh, god!"
That's when some lackey of Rupert slammed his table down with a thump, "Stop wasting time, people. This is an ETERNA!"
"He will use this unique opportunity to kill the omniscient one while he's recovering from this trickery. The council would crumble before it even begins. We should vote him out of nexus right now!"