Chapter 360: Exposed

Reaching out a hand, I smashed the display in a gravity well before pulling three blue cores out of the mess. After heating the pulp into a moldable mass, I pulled it out of my city. A construction golem cleaned the singe marks by scraping the stone and making new rock over the torn surface. The rulers gawked before I gave them a tight smile,

“So, who’s with me?”

Several rulers looked around in shock, while a few lost themselves in thought. Others peered around with their eyes wide and frantic, the nobles chewing their nails or grooming fur with spilling, nervous energy. One of them fell onto their knees, losing all of their composure. However, most stood tall, facing something uncertain.

Obolis led that group, and he turned a palm to me, “So what will we need to prevent our destruction, precisely?”

I put my hands on my hips, “We’ll need you all to help me get as much information as possible about our current situation. Scouting, spying, all of that is essential right now, but the hardest part will be allowing your memories to be checked right now.”

Obolis tilted his head at me, “That could easily be worse than death, and it will be done by that shadow no less. We’ve all seen what that monster did to Malos. Why should we trust that abomination now?”

I furrowed my brow, “You just told me you’d do whatever is required, and now you’re immediately rescinding what you said.”

A few rulers peered at Obolis before the Emperor snapped, “You still haven’t given us a compelling reason for why we should trust Shalahora.”

I deadpanned, “Because he’s saved all of your lives multiple times at this point. Aside from that, you have no other alternatives. You will all die without my intervention, and this is a requirement to get my protection. Otherwise, you’re on your own.“

I pointed outside,

“And out there, no one will hear you scream.”

In the distance, two primevals wrestled, the horizon molding to their battle as algae sheets ruptured. A solemn gloom crushed everyone, one I sympathized with. Obolis raised his brow, “And this perusing of our memories is necessary because of Elysium?”

A couple voices rippled through the crowd, and I nodded. I shook my head, “Yeah. It’s a shame, but Elysium will pry your minds apart to figure out what happened here too. They’re resourceful and relentless, as you’ve all seen and felt. To stop that, Shalahora will help us get our footing back so we can brainstorm solutions to that problem before we’re sent back.”

Obolis raised his brow, “Hm, perhaps a psionic shackling will do.”

I narrowed my eyes, “Maybe so, but either way, they’ll know I’m hiding something since you’ll all return with locked memories. Still, that’s one way to get some breathing room after returning to my home planet. I’m open to other ideas, however.”

Rulers in the crowd murmured,

“Elysium? Weren’t they locked in a war with Schema? They’re still putting their claws into events like this.”

“They infiltrated the lottery…And to what extent?”

“That’s why everything is going to hell. They undermined us.”

Obolis bristled with discomfort before he steepled his fingers, “I’m not attempting to weasel my way out of this current predicament, but is there any way to avoid having our memories seen?”

I peered up, “Huh, alright, how about this – if you can stop Shalahora from infiltrating your mind, you won’t need your mind checked. That guarantees Elysium hasn’t infiltrated your psyche anyway.”

Obolis turned to Shalahora, and the shadowy Sovereign menaced, “Your confidence wanes, doesn’t it?”

Obolis blinked, “Hm, then may you at least oversee the memory checking at the very least?”

I leaned back, “Of course. I will try to make this as unintrusive as possible, but it must be done. We’re getting the spies out of this camp. End of story.”

From a blot of oozing darkness, Shalahora murmured, “Know this – Elysium will simply unlock the shackles I wrap around your minds. While I have no experience facing them, they’ve controlled powerful entities like Lehesion or Valgus. That is proof that their psionic abilities are impressive.”

Shalahora shrugged, “As individuals, they likely couldn’t match me. However, they are more than a single entity. As an organization, they carry iron-clad goals with a difficult-to-dispel resolution. This makes them overwhelming in many cases. If you wish for greater safety, I could disintegrate the memories of this place and its workings altogether.”

A fearful ruler asked, “Will there be any permanent damage from something that? It sounds dangerous.”

Shalahora’s eyes widened, “Aside from the memories themselves, no. I am precise, so you will not lose any more than what is necessary to lose. It will take time, however. Rooting out the spies would simply require perusing your short-term memories that are relatively surface level.”

I pointed at Shalahora, “Can you handle their questions and probe for spies? I need to draft up the cipheric contract for us.”

Shalahora nodded, “Let it be done.”

With the rulers chattering behind me, I headed out. Two buildings away, I found a quiet room to begin writing in the cipher. It was an emptied home like all the places here, though the second story remained above ground level. I formed a marble chair on that floor, pulled out my grimoire, and began etching in its silver pages.

The chair couldn’t hold me up, so it was mostly for show and ambiance. I digress.

A few minutes passed before someone skulked in. It was Obolis, the Emperor peering around at my workspace. He kept his distance from me, the heat from my etching enough to ignite his fur. The albony ruler scoffed at my carving, “It would seem you weren’t joking about signing that shadow’s contract.”

I nodded while continuing to write. Obolis interlocked his hands behind himself before stepping back and forth at the side of the room, “So tell me…Why have you decided to accept such an absurd offer from Shalahora, assuming the contractual obligations haven’t changed from what we heard earlier.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Obolis shrugged, “Let’s call it curiosity.”

I considered not answering before deciding to tell a half-truth.

“Well, it’s because I intend to take out every Old One, not just the one he wants me to eliminate. Therefore, it makes no difference in the long run. The time limit is very forgiving as well.”

Obolis shook his head, “Aside from the fact that such a feat is impossible, you’re tying your potential down with a cipheric contract. Those are immutable once formed. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

Obolis turned a hand to me, his voice rising, “So then you’d put your sovereignty on the line for the allyship of an esoteric shadow? I’ve always considered you an intelligent arriviste, someone with unbridled potential that had yet to manifest. However, you’re shackling yourself to an impossible ideal and for nothing. It’s foolish, and in time, this will be the anchor that ceases your upward trajectory.”

I sat in silence for a moment. Obolis interrupted my train of thought, “Well, nothing to say for yourself?”

I raised a finger, “You have something against Shalahora…What is it?”

Obolis grimaced, “I’ve been at war with psionics. They have destroyed my species’ prosperity. They’ve committed genocide against my people. They want to turn us into a sack of blood for their leech mouths to suckle from, so my distrust of another psionic like Shalahora is merely my method of displaying wisdom and caution.”

I sighed, “If I’m honest, I don’t like psionic-based warfare either. That being said, I have to fight fire with fire here. Otherwise, I’ll be burned to a crisp with nothing to show for it, and this contract guarantees I’ll get the full use of Shalahora in the meantime. And he’s the most powerful psionic I’ve ever seen, so it seems like a worthwhile risk.”

Obolis considered my words for a moment, mulling over them like someone tasting a fine wine, “I’ll admit he would be a powerful ally, and a cipheric contract guarantees your satisfaction in that regard. However, that neglects to consider the sheer folly of what you’re trying to do – killing an Old One is inconceivable.”

A while passed before I turned to him, “What’s your reasoning?”

Obolis shook his head, irritation spreading over his face, “You’ve just entered a pool, yet you’re trying to speak of its depth. Listen, Daniel, you have no perspective, so you have no idea what you’re trying to do here.”

I raised my brow, “Why do you even care?”

Obolis sighed, “You’ve assisted me on several occasions. That, and I don’t want to watch someone with so much potential throw it away for nothing.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, “Ok, let’s level then. Do you think the Old Ones will be our enemies in the future?”

“They are our enemies now. However, this does not mean that we can kill them. It’s like trying to kill gravity or time. You can work around those constructs, but attempting to kill them simply showcases a lack of understanding of what they are. The Old Ones are the same.”

I tapped the edge of my chair, “Alright, fair enough. Let me present another argument from a different angle. What do you think our chances of survival are over the next 100 years?”

“Assuming we survive this lottery, we will live out 100 years easily.”

“What about a 1,000?”

Obolis peered up, “Hm…The chance of that is likely in the double digits for us both.”

“What about 30,000 years?”

Obolis scoffed, “I’d liken that question to fanciful thinking. It’s simply too far into the future.”

I spread out my hands, “That’s how long my contract term is, so what am I trading with Shalahora? It’s nothing that important.”

Obolis’s eyes narrowed, “You know what you’re giving away here, and you know better than anyone whether you’ll succeed over that length of time. Considering that you’re entertaining my inquiries means you like your odds.”

I tapped the edge of my seat, “My problem is that everyone I know, love, and value will be gone by then. The only person with a fighting chance to make it that far would be Torix, but that’s about it. Everyone else I could hold onto will be gone, and everything will fade, including the future of my species and others I harbor.”

My words splashed over us both like icy water,

“Time will erode everything I want to keep until nothing is left.”

Obolis furrowed his brow, “You honestly have no hope for your future?”

I shook my head, “Long-term, no.”

Obolis peered off, “That…That is saddening to hear. Given your age and circumstances, you shouldn’t believe that way. You are far too young to already be living life like that.”

“I know. That’s why I’m making this deal.”

Obolis considered what I said before his eyes widened, “Ah…So this isn’t selling your soul. This is your attempt at keeping it since you know it will be lost eventually.”

“That’s right. I know I have many enemies, but I can wrestle them all down with some time and help. In this case, Shalahora will fill in the need for psionic abilities and stealth, neither of which I enjoy or am good at. This gives me time to focus on ways to develop my skills, which I’m sure you can relate to.”

Obolis tilted his head, “Certainly. Delegation is a necessary skill for a ruler. Still, trusting Shalahora seems foolish to me. He could be an agent from an Old One that’s steadily trying to pry its way into your life. Aside from that, touching or feeling an Old One hasn’t been done. Few even know more than their names, let alone how they could die. Tell me, do you have any answers to those obvious realities?”

I crossed my arms, “My problem with those questions is how they’re framed in the first place. They assume that the Old Ones are forces of nature beyond our understanding. Even if they are, let’s compare them to lightning and thunder.”

I turned a hand to him, “For one, my species assumed that gods created storms, but now we know that isn’t the case. Hell, with enough people, we could make storms now. I’m willing to bet the Old Ones are like that; they’re mysteries we haven’t solved yet.”

Obolis tilted his head, “Hm, there was a time when my species considered that to be the case, but that truth doesn’t defy any of my points. Let’s not forget you’re betting your life on this.”

I shrugged, “My main claim is that what our ancestors did with lightning, I can do with the Old Ones. We assume they are all powerful, but if you ask me, I think the Old Ones are lying. They use their abilities and distance to lie to us about their limitations.”

Obolis blinked, “It still sounds as if you’re taking a bet with your life on the line and over an enormous assumption. It seems…Dubious at best but foolish at worst. I expected more from you.”

I turned back to my dimensional fabric, “And I thought more of you too, but over time, I learned that you have many limitations. For instance, do you think you could defeat me in combat right now?”

Obolis rolled his eyes, “Does it matter?”

“It does for proving my point. When we first met, I assumed you’d slaughter me before I uncovered more about you. Now I know I could give you a run for your money if we fought.”

Obolis sneered, “Perhaps, but how does that defy what I’ve stated?”

“Because I’ve seen that same pattern over and over again.”

Obolis answered by gawking at me like I was stupid. I kept etching as I talked, “When I first met Yawm of Flesh, he seemed beyond my comprehension. His powers were utterly absurd. He had developed a philosophy and charisma I couldn’t compare to. He even threw away everything he worked for on a whim. The guy was so sure of himself that he did something like that without a second thought.”

Obolis furrowed his brow in confusion, so I answered his unspoken question, “Yawm had a developed organization, but he killed them after they failed him several times. When we met, he was an individual. Anyways-“

I stopped etching, “That was all a facade. Yawm was a broken warrior who followed a twisted ideology. He’d been chewed up and spit out by Etorhma, and I was tasked with handling that abomination’s leftovers. I wouldn’t have been able to do something like that if Yawm was in full glory, but he wasn’t even a shade of his former self.”

Obolis spread his hands, “So because of one enemy’s false pretense, you believe all enemies are hollow? He was an exception, and exceptions simply serve to prove the rule.”

I continued welding into the page, “That’d be the case if I didn’t have other examples. Here’s another one; Lehesion seemed like some emboldened, invincible god with an absurd lifespan and unknown knowledge. Everyone spoke about him as a legend, and they revered him.”

I raised a hand, “When I met Lehesion, he was a god but a shattered one, like a beautiful vase plastered back together poorly. He looked whole, but the cracks in his persona began to show when he was tasked to handle anything. He’d start to leak out from all of his imperfections.”

I turned to Obolis, “In reality, Lehesion was running from all the mistakes he made in his reincarnated life, which has been far worse than his original one. Why? Because he couldn’t make any excuses anymore. Even with everything handed to him, he found a way to fumble it all, so his failings were his own. Instead of taking responsibility, he escaped by letting Elysium destroy his ego.”

Obolis rolled his hands, “So let us assume your point is true. What evidence do you have that the Old Ones are comparable to sentients like us? From what I’ve gathered, they exist without limits outside of the self-imposed ones they’ve decided to take upon themselves.”

I shook my head, “I’ve spoken with four of the Old Ones, and all four of them wanted myhelp. There’s a reason the Old Ones are always asking for avatars, and I’ll figure out why.”

Obolis raised his brow, “And that’s supposed to guarantee that you can eradicate them? Isn’t that a colossal leap in logic?”

I peered at my contract, “It’s not as much of one as you’d think. I mean, I’m a simple sentient like anyone else. Despite that, all of the Old Ones are knocking at my door. Even with all of my limitations and weaknesses, they all need me. Baldowah said it was because I was immortal, but I don’t think he’s giving me the full picture. None of them are.”

I heated the silver page before tracing into the steel with heated, telekinetic contact points, “They’re all lying while asking for my help as if I were an item at some auction house. Doesn’t that say something about them?”

“It could, but that’s not a guarantee. You can’t base your life on some arbitrary assumptions.”

I turned to Obolis from my work, “What are you even talking about? Everyone does that every day. We assume we’ll continue living past our next few moments. We assume we’ll have food every day. What I’m doing is no different.”

Obolis considered for a moment before he turned a palm to me, “There is a difference in magnitudes between those assumptions. Your mundane examples have been proven time and time again. One does not assume they’ll receive food every day until they’ve managed to secure it for some time.”

Obolis shrugged, “Your assumption about the Old Ones is a hunch based on other hunches. Your example is a false equivalency because it ignores scale and context.”

I blinked, Obolis’s answer making a lot of sense. Still, something about his replies rubbed me the wrong way. It wasn’t like him to dig this deeply into someone else’s business unless he had something to gain. I got this sneaking suspicion that he was trying to manipulate me, and I intended to stamp it out before he succeeded.

I met Obolis’s eye, “At the end of the day, I’ve made big promises to a lot of people. I promised Yawm I’d change Schema. I promised someone else I’d save the eldritch. Now I’m promising Shalahora I’ll kill an Old One. Every one of those goals seems impossible, but I’ve learned that isn’t true.”

I raised my brow, “Half of the hardships involved with doing something is convincing yourself that it’s possible. Think of all the time spent on worry and hesitation. That’s a lot of what makes life a challenge. If you eliminate doubt, you’re removing a lead cloak from your shoulders.”

I peered at my palm, “I know I have an opportunity because I’ve been lucky in many ways. I’m aiming to take full advantage of it, but I need help to make that happen. Shalahora is a means to that end.”

Obolis gave me a slow nod, “Hmm, are you certain this isn’t an idea planted by the Old Ones you’re looking down on? Even if it stretches into tens of thousands of years, this contract will still be a blink of an eye to them.”

I shrugged, “In that case, I’m abusing their sense of time, so regardless of what they think, I’m getting a good deal.” I frowned, “After all, the Old Ones look down on all of us. That’s a weakness that’s easy to take advantage of.”

Sensing he couldn’t change my mind, the Emperor walked to a window, “Hm…Then we shall see the results of your decision in time. It will either be bold or be a blunder. I also hope that Shalahora doesn’t come to disappoint you. I say so as I’ve been rather discontented with these supposed ‘rulers’ for quite some time.”

Glad for the change in topic, I blinked, “Ah…You expected more from them too?”

“Of course. They’re incompetent considering the sheer amount of resources they were given.”

While turning back to my unfinished contract, I murmured, “Yeah, I couldn’t believe how ineffective they are, but being fed that psionic fluid hasn’t put them in the best position for mental clarity.”

Obolis’s face wrinkled, “Indeed…It would appear they were crippled from the onset. I’m certain Shalahora shall unmask whoever has committed that crime, in particular. None of us can stand against his psionic might after all.”

“Yup.”

A moment passed before Obolis coughed into his hand, “Ahem, that is to say, I have a bit of a confession to make.”

I turned to him, my eyes sharp as razors, “Oh man, don’t tell me you’re working with Elysium? You know what that means, right?”

Energy charged around me, the air turning thick like a liquid. Obolis raised his palms, “Steady there. I would never ally with those mongrels. Elysium is destroying my Empire as we speak, so there’s no means of reconciliation with them. Rather, I’m making a confession regarding my place in this lottery.”

The energy dispersed from around me, “Ah, alright…Then let’s hear whatever it is.”

Obolis took a breath before saying, “Hm. How to say this…I was contacted by Schema well before this lottery began. It was meant to be a cleansing of galactic corruption, so to speak.”

I put my hands on my metal panel, “Ok, so Schema does that by killing everyone? Seems a bit much to me, but what do I know?”

Obolis raised a finger, “I disagree. This exercise was meant to expose the gluttony of the current nobles that rule over the masses. That’s precisely why the current crop of rulers here has been so disappointing – they are byproducts of a cushioned life. One given to them, not earned by their own efforts.”

I didn’t know much about the heart of Schema’s society since I’d only experienced worlds on the outskirts of Schema-owned space. Well, aside from Obolis’s planets. Curious about that central core for Schema, I finished a page before turning to Obolis, “So you’re telling me that every single one of these rulers inherited what they have?”

Obolis furrowed his brow, “Not all, but most. These are not the founders of their territories because a ruler merely needs to own a large set of territories. How they obtained those territories is irrelevant. Even I have well over fifty family members that classify as rulers, yet most of them hardly live up to a ruling title’s implications.”

Bitterness leaked into his voice. Obolis turned a hand, “These rulers here are the same. They are beneficiaries of great sentients and grew fat on that unearned privilege. So much so that they mistook their birthright for an earned advantage. It led to a mental delusion where they believed themselves better.”

Obolis bristled at his words, “Until now, where the difference between the spoiled and the spoilers has become clear.”

That subject sounded personal. Peering down at my contract, I wondered if I’d deal with the same issues with my guild or family. Hell, could I even have children in the first place? Obolis interrupted my thoughts as he grabbed one of his gauntleted wrists,

“Though…At times, I do worry about several of my kin. Helios or Victoria? They shall be fine. Florence? Edward? Many of my own will struggle, and that is…Unfortunate. Very unfortunate.”

I wondered if anyone in my faction carried the requirements for the lottery, but I doubted it. Dismissing that worry, I kept focused on the cipheric contract while saying,

“You won’t have to worry about Florence. That guy knows when to get the hell out of a dangerous situation.” I etched some more while raising my brows, “But it does seem weird that Schema’s killing everyone instead of just taking what they all have. Dead workers are unproductive workers.”

Obolis shrugged, “Schema isn’t allowed to seize property unless it’s obtained through inheritance. The exchange is where Schema is allowed to force deference to his wishes, similar to taxation. The lottery can also be contrived as a challenge, so there aren’t many restrictions for Schema in decimating we weaklings.”

I leaned on my desk, “Huh, inheritances…I guess that’s another reason for Schema to dislike immortals. He can’t get whatever they own, at least not easily. Anyways, is this the confession? Because it’s not exactly the end of the world.”

Obolis rolled a hand, “I wish that were the case. You see-“

I flatlined, “Obolis. I don’t have time for your theatrics. Out with it.”

Obolis bit his tongue before turning a hand to me, “I was offered a quest by Schema to undermine the rulers in exchange for a portion of their resources.”

I finished the cipheric markings, and a couple of other minds drafted up different versions of the finished manuscript. A moment passed, and I edited out my simplest mistakes. Other psyches dwelled on what Obolis said, and the Emperor waited until I finished my task. Once handled, I closed my grimoire before picking it up and charging the pages.

I tilted my head at Obolis, “Ok…So you’ve been hired by Schema to kill the rulers here?”

Obolis fidgeted, “Essentially, yes.”

With my free hand, I dragged my fingers down my face. I gazed at Obolis like a disappointed friend, “You were desperate to save your empire, huh?”

Obolis couldn’t meet my eye, “There seemed to be no other way, and this opportunity was too much to ignore. In hindsight, I know that greed defied my inner sense of reason. It was foolish of me to accept the task, but what’s done is done.”

I bent my head sideways, “And now you don’t want Shalahora or me to expose what you’ve been doing to the other rulers? Is that it?”

Obolis raised his hands, “That…That is the heart of this issue.”

I peered down at Obolis, “So what have you done to the rulers so far?”

Obolis took a breath before lowering his hands, “It’s more so a case of what I haven’t done…Yet, that is. I have access to far more resources than many of these rulers, but I’ve generally kept that to myself. I’ve also ensured these members couldn’t properly manage their information systems.”

My grimoire hummed with mana as I nodded, “Ah, so that’s why you wanted to take the rulers off of life support when I first arrived. You wanted a slice of what they had for yourself.”

Energy coalesced over the closed pages, crystallizing and melting like cruor disintegrating back to blood. Obolis frowned at the glowing mass, “To some extent, I wanted what they owned. However, by the time that situation had come to pass, I realized the gravity of our situation. Schema needed no help culling these people, and I would soon struggle to survive once I was one of the few left alive.”

I shook my head, “Damn…Well, that’s not so bad that I need to cut you off or expose you. At least you didn’t help Elysium. If you had, I’d probably be forced to kill you.”

Obolis’s eyes narrowed, “Thinly veiled threats, hmm? I thought we were above that.”

I raised a brow, “Thinly veiled? What? And anyway, wouldn’t you try to kill me if I colluded with Elysium to destroy your Empire?”

Obolis’s face contorted at the idea. I stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder, “Exactly.” I lowered my hand, “I have to head out.”

Obolis murmured, “Then so be it…But before that, when did you learn to use the cipher so well that you can draft contracts now? I watched the entire time, and it seemed spotless after the edits.”

Obolis didn’t know I dilated time while I sat there, and a dozen different Daniels argued, conceded, and championed the document until it was perfect. It would’ve taken hours without those strategies, but Obolis had no idea. From his perspective, I breezed through the process like an experienced contractor.

I had no intention of shattering that illusion as I’d seen how effective those facades could be. I shrugged, “Eh, I found the time to practice since the lottery started.”

Obolis’s left eye twitched before he winced, “This entire event has been nothing short of a farce. I’ll never know how Schema expected us to manage these circumstances with such limited information.”

My grimoire finished charging, a pulse radiating through the room. Obolis coughed into a hand, “Ahem…It would seem it’s time for you to go to your shadowy friend. I hope you’ll keep what we’ve discussed in mind.”

As I left, I tapped the room’s outer wall with my fist, “Depending on what you’ve done, I’ll consider not telling anyone anything. That’s a big if, but we’ll see. We’ll discuss your repayment after I uncover what you’ve done.”

Having a chance to survive, Obolis breathed out a sigh of relief. I gazed up at the swirling shield of blue mana above while murmuring, “Oh yeah, I don’t think this lottery was an attempt by Schema to purge the corruption of the elites or to take resources from everyone either.”

Obolis raised his brow, “Then what could possibly be the purpose of the lottery?”

I gazed at Leviathan, “I believe this was Schema’s punishment for the rulers who abandoned him. This chaos is his roar, and the dead are the victims of his wrath. I think the next time he calls for help, there will be more who listen.”

Obolis seethed, “If that is so, then Schema has simply fed Elysium more rebelling planets.”

We agreed on that, and that thought swirled in my mind while I passed through the alleyways leading to the other rulers. Streaks of light beamed between openings of the algae above, giving glimpses of Leviathan. Torches of mana lit the roadways like lanterns, and those blazes waved toward me as I walked.

The reinforced marble helped open the space up, as did the tracing lines of glowing rainbow bone used to embellish the buildings. Those adornments prevented anyone from feeling suffocated while living here. At least, I hoped that would be the case while I walked up to the other survivors.

Finding them facing Shalahora, the shadowed Sovereign sat near the city’s center, engaging many of those present with telepathic conversations. I waited for him to finish, and after a few minutes, the writhing miasma opened its blue eyes. He turned towards me, “Is that the contract? There’s nothing written on it.”

I pulled the glowing letters from my grimoire, “Yet. One sec.”

From the charged grimoire, glowing letters of the cipher floated upward. They landed on the panels of my dimensional fabric, which hovered around me. After the runes singed into the metal, I tossed the sheets to Shalahora before I crossed my arms,

“Any updates on the spies, or did everyone wait until I could oversee the memory checks?”

Shalahora’s shades snatched the panels out of the air while he glanced at the cipheric markings. After a few moments, he murmured, “There are several spies within our camp whom I’ve captured already. They lacked psionic abilities, so even a quick mental glance was enough to uncover them.”

“Who were they?”

Shalahora peered up from the metal documents, “The perpetrators are several of the food managers and those responsible for managing the life support systems in the lower levels of the survivor’s base.”

“Huh…I expected Iona to be in on it.”

Shalahora shrugged with his shadowed shoulders, “I did as well, but there are no signs of such. Her mind shows no signs of tampering or manipulation, and her short-term recall of what occurred aligns with her stance with Schema. If anything, she seems to feel betrayed by the AI.”

I thinned my gaze, “Yeah, that’s something I can understand. Still, she’s been suspicious since the start, so we might need to dig deeper into her memories if Iona continues being suspicious. Anyways, where are the spies?”

Shalahora pointed at another building near the city’s center. I walked in with the shadow at my side, and on the wall, five different rulers wrestled against liquid darkness. As I stepped in, they all were other species and colors, none of them being races I knew.

However, each of their gazes carried familiar emotions. A bubbling mass of fear, acceptance, and hate spread over them as they glowered at me, but that was all they could convey with their bodies submerged in gloomy blots. I pointed at them while talking to Shalahora, “You can go ahead and get what we need from them if you’d like. Either that or you can sign the contract first.”

Shalahora peered through the details of the cipheric document before he tilted his head at me, “Are you certain of this?”

I nodded, “Yeah. It doesn’t change much anyways since my goals are already set. This gives me another ally to get what I need.”

The shadow reread the contract once more before condensing a finger. It flared with umbral fire, siphoning and sucking the light from nearby. He etched into the dimensional fabric with difficulty, his signature leaving a trail of dark flames. Taking the contract from him, I channeled mana into it.

While I charged the energy, Shalahora peered at each spy for a time. With each passing second of the shadow’s stare, the spies writhed and squirmed like worms over a fire. Their vessels swelled under their skin while blood dripped from their noses, eyes, and ears. After a few hours, their eyes glazed over, each of them given the mercy of comatose.

By the time Shalahora finished, every alien had fallen unconscious from the mental probing. I grimaced, “That looked…Painful.”

Shalahora peered away, “It was painful, certainly, but they experienced far more as they relived their lives. They lived through agony, joy, love, and rejection in the passing moments. I merely extracted what they relived in its diluted form. The speed of the process is what afflicted them, not my technique itself.”

Shalahora didn’t give any signs of lying, but while I gazed at the aliens, everything pointed to the contrary. Blood pooled under the aliens like someone spilled a dozen paint cans under them, each bucket carrying a different color. They slushed into the hard floor, their pulped bodies mixing ever so slightly.

Shalahora found his reflection in that smoothed, mirroring pool, “They know little or nothing aside from their own circumstances. They signed cipheric contracts to help bring their families or clans out of servitude in exchange for ruining the survivor faction. I understand their plight, though it has ruined any chance of their survival here.”

“What’d they do?”

“They’ve caused many of the mechanical issues the Survivors struggled with. The psionic fluid was a desperate last move to stifle your remodeling from recovering the Survivor’s position. To these spies, the faction was like a tree. Since they could no longer tear the branches, they chose to poison the roots.”

I gazed at the aliens with distaste while considering my options. I understood why they did what they did, but keeping them here would only endanger our situation. We also gained as much info as possible, so I raised a hand, ready to blend their heads with gravitational vortexes.

Before doing so, the contract in my hand finished siphoning energy. It plumed outward with a reality-warping surge. As it crossed over us, Shalahora’s eyes disappeared for a moment. When they reopened, he turned to me with a different look. He bowed, “It is done.”

I shook off an odd sensation as if my blood boiled without pain,

“Er, good.”

A laugh echoed in the distance, but I ignored it. Pulling myself back to the moment, I inspected the spies once more. Figuring I could get more out of them than simple executions, I ripped them from the walls and floated them out of the room. Around the corner, the other rulers gathered near the city’s center. I hovered myself up and over everyone before shouting,

“Everyone, we’ve inspected those present and found these were the members poisoning you all. They crippled your attempts at recovery by ruining several of your life support systems.”

The rulers whispered before one of the braver ones shouted, “Where’s the proof?”

Shalahora materialized beside me, and he reached up a hand. As he had when we first introduced ourselves, Shalahora telepathically linked to everyone present. Using that connection, Shalahora dispersed the spies’ memories over us like spilling someone’s life story out of a cup. Shalahora contained this flow, pinpointed several specific events, and locked away the other parts of their minds.

I blinked, overwrought by the flow of information. That sensation settled, and I analyzed the memories within. Though they lacked clarity, the recallings carried a different volume than other information mediums. While a movie, book, or story compelled emotion through techniques and hard work, these memories were infused with a feeling regardless of the circumstance.

What they lacked in resolution, they more than compensated with their emotional weight. In that sea of feeling, the most damning evidence arrived with the affirmation in the worker’s minds. They understood what they’d done and resolved to do, and they couldn’t forget that fact. I glared at everyone here, “As you can tell, Shalahora can pry out any secrets you’ve kept. In this case, if you work with Elysium, you will die.”

I squeezed my hand, and all five spies pulped into different colored mush balls. The memory field spread over us blipped out of existence like letting go of a warm hug. Pulling all of the aliens’ remains into a singular ball, I flung the corpse slush out of my city for the primevals to fight over. Accustomed to the brutality, I raised my brow at the other survivors who struggled with the display. Before they complained, I waved a hand, “You can all choose a room. There’s plenty of space in this city and the others nearby.”

The icy Alctua raised her voice, her scales sheening under Leviathan’s light, “You have more than one city here?”

I nodded, “I have many.”

My golems marched around the perimeter, fixing anything out of order or patrolling the grounds. Primevals flew in the distance, their howls ominous. They lacked the lethal edge of the converted primevals who devoured the blended bodies just outside. The rulers watched their hidden enemies get torn apart, any sense of relief washed away by fear.

I gazed at them with hard eyes. Before panic overtook them, I spread the Rise of Eden washed over them. The dimensional wake gave them an enormous boost to their stats, emboldening and strengthening them. They stood taller while I raised a hand to them,

“Since coming here, you all have struggled. The reason is simple – you were taken advantage of by forces outside your control. Schema and Elysium both had their way with you all. It was as if he tied you to a stake in the sun and watched crows peck at your eyes until you were blind.”

I squeezed my hand into a fist, “That stops now. You’ll be taken from the sun to the shade, and your eyes will be restored so you can all see. Until now, you lived on a killing floor. Now you thrive on a training ground. You will be given every means of enhancing and augmenting your abilities. I’ll grant each and every one of you the supplies necessary for what needs to be done.”

I raised a finger, “My resources arrive with expectation – I will hold you responsible for walking away from this hellhole better than you walked in.”

Fear turned into the beginning of hope as I shouted, “No more turning back. No more shouting that this is unfair or undeserved. This is real, and we will face it head-on as the rulers of our worlds. Your nights have passed and now is the beginning of your dawns.”

I shouted in defiance, “If they want a war, then they’ll have one.”

Rulers shouted, most of the lesser rulers elated at a chance to survive. A few of the diplomats from higher organizations peered at each other nervously. Ignoring them, I turned and raised a hand, twenty of my golems falling in line.

I turned a palm to them, “These constructs will assist you all in your development, whether that be constructing more infrastructure or helping rulers learn to wage war.”

I raised my brow to Shalahora and telepathically said, “Is it possible to leave a shade with each of the rulers so we can keep tabs on them?”

Shalahora nodded, “Of course, Harbinger.”

I peered at the rulers, “Well then, it looks like we have a planet to escape from, don’t we?”