Chapter 893 – War Room

Chapter 893 – War Room

“Sand... there is sand everywhere. A phantom of sand corrupts our vision. The East Gestalt formed outside of us. We need help, your help. We didn’t want it to be like this. Not like this. Sand... there is...”

The message repeated in a different voice. Then another one. Each time, pronunciation of the words was eerily similar. Confused, steady in volume but swaying in tone. It was like listening to someone who was recovering from a fall on their head.

The voice echoed through the large conference room, coming from several speakers hanging in the corners. Wirelessly, they connected to a computer sitting in the middle of a circular oak table. Red carpet and dark walls with golden decorations gave the space a luxurious flare, but the practical design of the chairs and doors changed that to a militaristic appeal. John was joined by parts of his harem, Chemilia, Ted and, through a video conference, Elu. All of them listened intently to the words. He and a few sat, others stood around the table and yet others leaned against the walls.

Finally, the recording came to an end.

“Quick working, good job,” John complimented the technomancer in the room. He was a normal person with black hair and brown eyes, a bit leaner than the average Abyssal but not quite thin. “Gathering all of the recorded calls from our decentralized servers must have taken a minute.”

“Miss Thorne can’t do everything on her own,” the man returned with a bow of his head, directed respectfully at the redhead. “For all her expertise, she is just one person.”

“Indeed.” John nodded. Fusion’s Technomancer department was one of the first institutions to learn of Scarlett’s true identity. It was quite an easy reveal to make, since most of that department consisted of former Thorne employees. They hadn’t been privy to her existence beforehand, but past experiences made it more believable. Because of this, they were also more loyal. Thorne, after all, had been a pretty stable and secure employer. Not without its issues, but a good way to survive the anarchic state before John’s arrival.

Having them on board was also going to be assuring during the eventual reveal to the broader public. A couple technomancers could direct conversations on numerous sites at the same time. John didn’t like using such a tactic. It wasn’t as bad as censoring things he didn’t want said, but it was still dirty to artificially direct attention. Like many things he didn’t like, he still had to consider it for pragmatic reasons. If he could, he would limit their influence to information gathering. Being prepared for the most common talking points was more his style. The best way to counter speech was better speech.

All of that was merely a flash of thoughts of John’s tangent prone mind. He clicked play on the supercut of messages and listened to them again. Twirling a pen around his fingers, he tried to discern any hidden meanings. Once they were through, he asked, “All of these came in at the same time, right?”

“The calls began at the same time, but messages were only spoken once the receivers had let the speakers know they had connected,” the technomancer let John know.

“Either an incredibly well-coordinated hivemind or one that allows its member a degree of individuality,” John mumbled. “Anything worthwhile in the emails they sent?”

“More requests for help, among gibberish, and several coordinates.”

“Alright...” John stroked his chin. “Have you asked the Lake Alliance if they received similar messages?” A quick denial was all the Gamer needed to know. “Alright, try to open communications with them then... try to contact the Heart of Lakes guild first.”

“As you wish, Mister President,” the technomancer turned around and left the room, leaving the upper echelon of the military to make their decision.

“Why the Heart of Lakes first?” Nia wanted to know.

Scarlett, standing next to an open window, lit a cigarette while she answered, “Because it’s closest to the Gestalt guilds.”

“Partly, yeah, but not the main reason,” John told everyone. “Of the elites we fought during the Hudson Brawl, Remia and Theron were those with the least amount of hostility towards us. I imagine we have the highest chance of getting an answer by going to them first.”

“Why didn’t we try to contact New Libraria as well?” Rave asked.

“Dust Walkers?” Ted suggested.

“They are way to the west, I would sooner suspect the Golden Rose to be involved than them,” John stated. “And the chances for Moira and her lot to be tangled up in this are rather slim to start with. They don’t strike me as the kind of people that would be secretive about their dealings. No, I think this is, most likely, something internal. Lorylim is the second and New Libraria intervention a third possibility. Everything else seems incredibly unlikely to me.”

It knocked on the door and the technomancer from earlier came back in. “Mister President, I can report that the Lake Alliance did receive the same communications. They do not, at the current time, seem intent to do anything about them.”

“Thank you, dismissed,” John said and the dark-haired man went back outside.

“Does that tell us anything?” Ted asked.

“Nothing that greatly shifts my current analysis, but it’s interesting to note that this isn’t exclusive to us,” John responded. “It drastically reduces the chance of this being some sort of trap meant for Fusion or me specifically. I would discount the Lorylim as the sender of the messenger because of that – although they might still be the ones who wrecked things.”

“I don’t know,” Metra hummed. “I never heard of them being active in this part of the world. Not active enough to fuck around inside a sizable guild, that much is for sure.”

“Jackal is still running around and with him the possibility to turn a lot of people into flesh puppets for Izha.”

“Which I still don’t understand,” Metra mumbled. “There were Lorylim possessed or worshipping alchemists in the past and none of them could brew something that would spread their influence. It was all done through exposure to ‘parasites’ or whatever you want to call it when they eat someone alive.”

Scarlett took a last huff from her cigarette and flicked the butt out of the window. “Not to offend ya,” she started while exhaling the smoke, “but your knowledge isn’t exactly reliable – when it comes to things outside of fighting.”

“It’s true, so whatever.” Metra shrugged. “I’m not a planner. Remembering the details about how the Lorylim used to be doesn’t really matter to me. Wordless skewering and corruption or chattering biting and MORE corruption doesn’t make a lot of difference to me. Fungoid nightmare creature is fungoid fucking nightmare creature, with or without the teeth.”

“We can rehash what information we have on the Lorylim another time.” John looked at the map one more time, then turned away from it. “For now let’s make clear what our path of action should be. Whether we help or not, all that.”

“What’s there to discuss?” Scarlett wanted to know. “You already decided to go in there. There’s no reason to stop you either, aside from concerns about your safety. Since I doubt you’ll let those stop you, all that remains is to convince parliament. The worst outcome is that you just save some people, the best is that they join Fusion, which we need to get done sooner or later anyway. This would help future diplomatic efforts.” The redhead pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her suit, looked at it for a moment, then stored it inside her breast pocket again. “Of course, you could just stay with the army after saving them and forcefully annex them.”

“Well, that’s out,” John said. “Just to add: the worst outcome is that we save some people and we learn about whatever is actually going on inside their borders. Information has been scarce.”

“True,” Scarlett agreed.

“This better not be the sudden and shit-eating end of our calm and fucking happy streak,” Eliza cussed. “If you are going in there and lose even an inch of skin, I will tear the fucking continent apart.”

“Don’t jinx it, Eliza,” John warned her with a warm smile. “Besides, I’m confident nothing much is going to happen to me.”

“Yeah, well, you are an absolute retard who keeps jumping into obstacles that scream ‘don’t touch me, unless you really, really want to get gnawed on by the darkest secrets of the universe – also lots of fucking rats’ with such glee,” the pretty little psycho ranted. “What the self-hating cuntwaffle makes you think this time is going to be so different, huh?”



“That I am taking you along, my dear broken angel.”