Chương 142: Chapter 141 - The New Order

The chamber existed in defiance of natural law. Stone and obsidian fused with minerals that pulsed their own light, suspended in purple void like a monument to forgotten ambition. Gothic arches soared upward, meeting in points that seemed to puncture something beyond architecture. Starlight filtered through crystalline gaps, painting the floor in patterns that shifted with each breath. Figures emerged from darkness between pillars. Some wore armor that whispered with accumulated history.

Others draped themselves in fabrics that cost more than small kingdoms. They took positions around the circle with practiced precision, each claiming invisible territory that had been theirs for decades, sometimes centuries. The last to arrive wore blue.

"Shall we proceed with the meeting?" The voice carried from somewhere distant, though the speaker stood within the circle. Blue dress, braided hair woven with silver thread, a face too sharp for its youthful arrangement. She moved with careful deliberation, each step a performance learned through repetition.

"I express my most sincere apologies for my tardy arrival." Princess Elara surveyed the assembly. Twelve positions marked around the circle. Nine occupied. To her left stood the Emperor of the Dao Dynasty. Robes of texture so fine they seemed woven from captured moonlight, patterns that could only emerge from centuries of refinement. A beard that fell past his chest, braided with golden wire. His hands rested folded before him. Across from imperial tradition stood its opposite.

Masculine features framed by hair that fell past shoulders, dressed in a suit cut with geometric precision. A coin danced between fingers, appearing and disappearing with hypnotic rhythm. The Mandate of Everlight. Pink hair caught crystalline light. Skin that matched it almost perfectly, robes of white so pure they seemed to absorb surrounding color. A priestess. The Sovereign of Caducus Celestia, who had surrendered territorial claims in favor of compassion.

Who represented both faith and healing in matters of policy. Green energy circled the elf like orbiting satellites. Elongated ears, attire that seemed grown rather than sewn, ambient fate essence responding to his mere presence. The representative of Alfheim stood with roots invisible beneath him. Elara's gaze completed the circuit, finding the gaps. Three empty positions.

'Materna remains as stubborn as ever. And Abyssal Ember sends no one. Typical.' The Emperor spoke first, voice carrying weight accumulated through generations.

"Good. It seems everyone who is supposed be here.... are here." The coin performer cut through formality.

"The Transcendence has arrived at last. I trust we all understand our objectives." The elf's composure never shifted. He addressed the coin performer with patience.

"I see the last leader of Everlight is not with us. You grow younger every century..." The coin continued its dance between fingers.

"Does living among trees teach you manners, or does it strip them away?"

"Enough," the priestess said, voice like water over stones.

"We shall not carry such ill intent. As leaders, we are tasked by her benevolent force to guide the scattered realms toward prosperity." It made Elara straighten internally. The priestess spoke kindness but her continent's history contradicted every gentle syllable. Purges disguised as purifications. Borders redrawn in blood donated involuntarily. Multiple gazes converged on Elara now.

"I see your Majesty has passed away." The Emperor adopted a mournful tone that rang hollow against stone walls.

"The late King Henry. We shared wine once, in better times." Elara looked upward. Through gaps between Gothic arches, purple void pressed against crystalline barriers. Twilight filtered through, painting everything in colors that existed between categories. Beautiful in its wrongness. For a single moment, she thought something unbidden.

'Death is a reminder that even crowns corrode... with enough time.' Her face remained straight when she lowered her gaze.

"Yes. We shall transfer all of his merit into the hourglass." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The Emperor stroked his beard.

"And you know why this mechanism exists?"

"Yes."

"So that she may not amass enough merit. So that no single ruler may claim dominion over all scattered realms." He nodded once. Sharp. Decisive.

"The hourglass transcends time itself. Ancient construction, reverse engineered by brilliant minds long turned to dust. It prevents dictators. Prevents unfit leaders and those with low life expectancy. Prevents those who seek conquest for its own sake. Prevents those with selfish and wicked desires fueled by their own self interest." The elf spoke, green energy pulsing.

"Before we vote, we must discuss current affairs. The railway incident in Vex demands attention." The coin performer leaned forward.

"Ah yes. The narwhale. Broken tracks. One casualty. Uproar among your people. Tell me, Princess, how does one allow a creature of the void to breach infrastructure maintained by Astral's finest engineers?" Elara met the challenge with practiced calm.

"The creature acted outside predicted patterns. We compensated the family. Repaired the damage."

"And the rift expedition," the priestess added, concern painted across features.

"Students entered. Students died. Two incidents within weeks of each other." The Emperor's voice carried judgment.

"Your coronation arrives amid considerable controversy. Some might call it convenient timing." Elara felt pressure behind her ear.

'They circle like vultures. Testing. Probing. Looking for weakness.'

"I resolved both situations," she said, voice steady.

"The railway incident was unfortunate. The rift expedition was necessary. We eliminated corruption that had festered for decades."

"At what cost?" the elf asked.

"At the cost required." Silence fell heavy. The priestess broke it with false gentleness.

"We must also address the absences. Abyssal Ember sends no representative. Again. Their demonic lineages remain opposed to Mother Fate herself. They killed their own Monolith, bear their divine relic with pride. How long do we tolerate this defiance?" The coin performer spoke without looking up.

"They follow their nature. We follow ours. The balance holds."

"Barely," the Emperor muttered.

"And Materna?" The elf gestured toward empty space.

"The Empress of Crepuscula has attempted to claim the Holy Grail for four centuries. Four hundred years of failure. Yet she persists. Her absence today speaks volumes." Elara filed away every word. Every tone. Every gesture.

'They fear her. More than they admit. More than they should.' The priestess raised both hands.

"We must vote. Transfer of merit to the mechanism. All in favor." Hands rose around the circle. The priestess voted first. Then the elf. The Emperor. The coin performer. Elara's hand remained at her side for one heartbeat. Two. Then she raised it.

"Good, we shall proceed then." The pink haired priestesse spoke. Golden light erupted from each leader simultaneously. Threads of pure merit torn from their essence, streaming upward toward the ceiling. They converged on a single point where the hourglass hung suspended, turning slowly in violation of gravity. Sand began to fall. Not downward. Sideways. In spirals that defied observation. Elara felt the extraction. Like hooks in her chest, pulling something fundamental away.

But beneath the surface, hidden where even Enlightened senses could not reach, she channeled something else. Corrosive fate essence. The same poison that had nearly consumed her in that rift. Carefully. Precisely. Threading it through her merit like venom through veins.

'The merit will transfer. The hourglass will accept it. Then reject it entirely. My merit returns. My position remains. The Transcendence continues without their precious safeguard.'

'While I can amass more merit.' The extraction continued. Other leaders swayed slightly, steadying themselves. Elara did not sway. She pushed harder. Forced more corruption into the stream. Made it seamless. Invisible. Then something resisted. Her golden thread stuttered. Flickered. The corruption would not fully integrate.

'No. No. This should work. This has to work.' She pushed harder. The thread resisted harder. Around the circle, leaders began to notice. Eyes opened. Attention focused. The Emperor frowned.

"Princess? Is something wrong?" Elara's internal monologue spiraled.

'If I deviate now, they will strike me down. All of them.

'They are all Enlightened probably at a considerable stage. Suicide to resist. I cannot call Lyssandra. She is strong but not that strong. If I fail here, the Transcendence will not be held for another hundred years. Everything collapses.'

'All of it will collapse as they will surrender their merit and put an end to the transdence.

'People that have faith in their leaders, people that have lost all hope in the world... people that place their hope in a leader to bend the world to their wishes with the Holy Grail. Will all despair.'

'No... I cannot let it happen....'

'I cannot let... that happen..' Her thread flickered again. The corruption refused to stabilize. The priestess glanced at her, with genuine concern now.

"Child, what are you doing?" Elara struggled. Forced every ounce of will into making the corruption hold. It would not. The elf's green energy pulsed, reading the disturbance.

"She is channeling something else. Something wrong." The coin performer stopped playing.

"Corrosive fate essence. In her merit. She is trying to poison the mechanism." The Emperor's voice dropped to freezing.

"Treason." Elara's hands shook. Her thread writhed like a dying snake.

'I have failed. After everything. Every plan. Every sacrifice. Every piece moved into position. I have failed.' Then footsteps echoed from beyond the circle. Slow. Deliberate. Carrying weight that made stone tremble. The chamber pressed down on Elara like water filling lungs. Stone and obsidian carved with minerals that pulsed their own sickly light, suspended in purple void that stretched beyond reason. Gothic arches soared upward, meeting in points that seemed to puncture reality itself.

Crystalline gaps between architecture allowed starlight to filter through, painting the floor in patterns that shifted with each labored breath. She stood weakly over the fence where she positioned herself among the other figures. Blue silk clung to her frame, damp with perspiration despite the cold. Her breath came shallow, ribs aching with each inhale. She looked back toward the entrance, pulse hammering against her throat like a trapped bird beating wings against cage bars.

'No!'

'Lyssandra, stay back.' All of her worst thoughts, her worst fears, crystallized into terrible reality pressing down on her chest like iron weights. The vote would pass. Her fabrication would be found out. Everything would collapse. The elf surrounded her with bright glowing vines that erupted from the floor beneath, tangling around ankles and wrists. They pulsed with green light, warm against her skin despite their restraint. Elara hissed through clenched teeth.

"You dare lay a hand on me?"

"You dared to influence the course of the Transcendence," the elf replied, voice like wind through autumn leaves.

"The sacred mechanism. The safeguard of all scattered realms."