Chapter 196 - Three Eternas
Cold sweat pooled on his forehead, but he was unable to wipe it off because of the mask on his face, as well as the demanding audience in front of him.
This was tough. Yes, the first few questions turned out to be easy, but then people started asking for the exact location of observation records, possible resonance catalysts, and whatnot.
Most of the time, he just priced them so high—given they wanted something so specific—that the person asking was unable to pay up. However, these were intelligent people; they adapted based on the reactions of those he put into the secluded zone.
Fortunately for him, he was somewhat good at making up believable bullshit. He internally sighed, Almost done. Never doing it like this again.
He knew it was going to be difficult, but this was getting unnecessarily dangerous. Hmm, I need a better structure to handle so many people. If he always allowed them to ask whatever, he would slip up sooner or later.
He had to make this opportunity harder to come by, and even when it did, he needed it to be better controlled. There were some ideas in his mind, but nothing concrete.
That's when the pretender lady appeared in his peripheral vision as she stepped forward. Vern narrowed his eyes, Last one! I hope she doesn't have something tricky up her sleeve.
"Mr. Axiom," she began, a clear look in her eyes. "I'd like to request isolation first."
Of course, Vern nodded, cheering for himself. Whatever she had, it would be easier to handle when no one else was listening in. Made it easier not to get caught in his mistakes.
Everyone else in the room sighed, clearly disappointed by her decision not to make them privy to whatever she was about to ask. Curiosity was palpable on their faces.
After Ms. Witness isolated the pretender lady, she began of her own volition, aware when the people outside couldn't hear her anymore. "Mr. Axiom, I'd like to ask…" she hesitated momentarily but then took a deep breath and continued, "…I'd like to ask what happened to the First Observer?"
Vern raised his eyebrows, That's an interesting one. What does she have to gain by knowing that? Yes, it was knowledge of a high level, but it wasn't very useful.
He pondered how to answer this as the cosmic scale behind him began tilting in one direction, and it continued to fall and fall until it was almost at his height once again.
"My horror, she's done it, too," echoed the burly man as he rubbed his forehead. "I knew it'd happen, but it's damned crazy nonetheless."
Soon, however, he shook his head and yelled, "Anyone wanna bet how far she could balance it?"
No one spoke up, but their eyes were ever curious.
"Bahh, I bet she can manage a bit over half," he chuckled before murmuring, "Wonder why she wasted her chance by asking something stupidly out of this world."
Vern chuckled internally, but he was interested in knowing the answer, too. What kind of knowledge would she share to try and balance such a grand question?
The lady, in all her isolated glory, watched the scale with grim determination before she spoke up, "In return for such an expensive question, please allow me to share with you something about my father."
Vern nodded with indifference, but a hint of skepticism wormed its way into his head, Her father? Why?
Nonetheless, she thanked him before speaking, "My father was one of the only beings who ever made contact with the First Observer."
Wait, what!?
Her voice lowered a little as if turning reminiscent, "After his last contact, Father went out of his way to reach out to his closest friend and most hated enemy."
She looked down but continued, "All three Eternas, who were visionaries in their own right, came together to salvage what was left of reality after the shattering."
Vern instantly became fully alert. Her father made contact with the First Observer and is an Eterna, too?
"In that, my father—the Timeweaver—was the one who rescued billions upon billions of lives by turning back the clock for the whole of Prima."
Her voice turned softer and softer as she whispered—crystal clear to him, "It might have been nothing more than a couple of seconds, but I like to believe that his last-ditch effort to resist was what allowed lethal injuries of body and mind to be forgotten in the sands of time."
Oh, he gasped.
That was her…father?
Links after links connected in his mind, and as if hundreds of puzzle pieces came together, his mind opened up to new ideas.
Wait! Is that to say First Observer warned her father—The Timeweaver, about the Duskfall? How else would he know to seek aid from two other Eternas for the catastrophe? Is that how the people in the know realized something terrible was about to happen, even if not exactly what?
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
And what did the other two Eternas do? He remembered another odd phenomenon beyond the time. The blood, he recited. Was that one of them?
If so, what was the point? Why squeeze every last drop of blood from everyone who already died? From the sounds of it, there's a high chance it somehow helped the world survive the Duskfall, but how? Unless this Eterna had gone rogue or something, which didn't sound very plausible.
This reminded him, Hmm, wasn't there an Eterna with a viewpoint related to blood back in the Confluence, too?
Were they one and the same?
He remembered the Pretender lady being somewhat formal with him at the start. Was that him?
On top of that, who was the third? And why?
For some reason, he realized that he really wanted to know the answer to all these questions. They were deeply linked to the catastrophe that reaped billions of lives in a matter of minutes.
One more time, he found how this persona limited him from asking questions like these outright.
Well, it's possible she doesn't even know the answers at all.
There was little to no chance that her father actually shared all the details of such an event with a daughter who was barely a proper observer. According to his previous conjectures, she didn't have more than two shades in her perception,
He waited to see if she had anything else to add.
She didn't, and the silence was telling. There was a hint of melancholy behind those words, and he didn't need her to spell it out that it didn't go well for the said Eternas. At least not for her father.
Unfortunately, that meant he had to pass a judgment.
Hahh, he sighed. So close, yet so far.
Shaking his head, he snapped his fingers. Matching the sound, the chains rattled, and the scale shifted once more.
"Last chance! Bets open, bets open," shouted the burly man as he eyed the changes with a hint of excitement like everyone else. Even the Observers who were absorbed within themselves after hearing Axiom's 'advice' stopped to see how this would turn out.
.
.
.
Clink, Clank, they went and went and went…
"Wh—what!?" The burly man pointed, his mouth open wide enough to fit an apple. "It's…it's really past the halfway point!? I was joking. She…she actually did it!?" Turning to others to confirm he wasn't hallucinating, his shaky finger followed the balancing plates.
"What the heck!? How…" he continued on, stammering with each word as the plates finally stopped their motion, stabilizing at a point where the side representing the question was leaning just a tad over the other one.
Vern didn't want to underplay the value of what she'd just shared. That information was not just subjectively useful to him but also just a terrifying secret of reality—or the truth behind it.
What she shared included not just three Eternas but also the First Observer, as well as machinations behind the Duskfall of Sorrows. How could it be cheap?
She looked up, and after staring at the scale blankly for a while, she nodded without a hint of emotion behind it. It was jarring how her demeanor changed so quickly.
Curtsying lightly, she spoke, "My apologies, Mr. Axiom. It seems I've failed to pay the cost of my question. Please carry on with your plans. I hope I wasn't a nuisance."
Vern shook his head visibly. He had no plans of being unfair. The mere gravitas of the topics being shared here was so big he couldn't call it 'just' if he didn't give her something in return.
His hands resting on the sides, he began, "Balance doesn't work with only two parameters. Your insight, while insufficient, merits a certain amount of truth."
She froze over, and a hint of…liveliness spread throughout her body once again. He didn't know what her deal was, but he kept going, "So listen…"
With a deep voice, he declared, "For all intents and purposes, the First Observer is…dead."
A questioning gaze that urged him to continue stared back, but he refused to elaborate. He didn't want to dig his grave too deep. He guessed that if she didn't already know the fate of her father, she might've wanted to extrapolate it based on the First Observer's condition. Or maybe she was curious because of the misleading information during the Confluence.
According to Lady Sylphina's words, there was a high possibility that First Observer was indeed gone. If not literally dead, then they were as good as dead, given her eminence's condition and fear of being exposed.
With another snap of his finger, the blurry isolation cracked, and the whole of the peanut gallery stared at her dumbfounded and…scared. Even the burly man was speechless.
To them, her insights reached a plane far higher than them. Most couldn't even accomplish a hundredth of what she just did.
When she came in full view, the lady in question coughed lightly before standing tall, not letting her expressions give away anything. It was impressive how quickly she regained her composure after hearing such a grand truth.
Everyone stared daggers at her as if doing so would allow them to extract secrets. Alas, she didn't give anyone the time of her day and ignored them entirely as she addressed him once again.
"Mr. Axiom, now that you've assessed all of us, do you believe that I'm worthy of remaining in your presence?"
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"What do you mean assess?" asked the short lady in indigo overalls next to her with a frown.
The burly man began with a scowl of his own that turned into an ohh of confusion, "…this…was this a test?"
Everyone began whispering among themselves. Shock, surprise, and regret already surfacing on their faces.
Vern, however, had the same question. A test?
He hadn't really thought about that. This was primarily an exercise to show off his vast understanding, all the while gaining some valuable knowledge for scraps in return. To make Axiom seem grander than it was.
However… he stopped to consider his options, barely controlling the impulse to rub his chin.
Hmm, wouldn't that actually be better?
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This…why didn't I think of this before? he wanted to facepalm. His lack of creativity was souring when his fake backstory for inviting them here worked so well with that idea.
It was perfect. It solved his issue of having to deal with so many people himself. Yes, he wanted them to worship Axiom, but he didn't want to have such close contact with each and every one of them.
Confluence was a one-time thing where the stars aligned very well, but he couldn't always pull off the same stunt of handling dozens upon dozens of dissenting voices. It was tiring, too.
Here, it wasn't that bad today, but sooner or later, he would slip up, and he would be foolish not to pre-emptively avoid that.
He nodded to himself, I need to create a hierarchy.
These two things might seem unrelated at first glance, but that's exactly where this train of thought concluded.
He quickly analyzed the best way to handle this and came up with a good solution.
It's a little risky, though, he tried to argue against himself, only to find all the eyes in the Nexus boring into him—expressing their shock, regret, and…betrayal?
Well, it was all part of the plan, I guess, he chuckled to himself.
Unlike his internal feelings, he declared in an indifferent tone, "You're worthy. As for the rest…"