CHAPTER 89: THE FACTIONS AT PLAY

Eventually, Oizys encountered Blanchette who had finished a share of today’s work.

Kivas was there as she witnessed the two’s gazes lingering to one another for six seconds, a silence that was more awkward than raising a hand to someone who didn’t even greet you on the street.

"I hate you," Oizys’ words broke the silence. Her face was smiling eerily, as if she knew something that others don’t.

At the same time, Blanchette mirrored the smile and simply replied with the same kindness, "I appreciate the warm introduction."

There seemed to be a history between the two of them, that alone gave Kivas more reason than anything to be paranoid of Blanchette.

However, when asked why Oizys was immediately hostile to Blanchette, Oizys merely answered that it was a long story, and a nonsensical one that wouldn’t make sense in one’s mind.

But Samael was keen on hearing it, so Oizys ended up spilling the entire bean.

"Back in my home-place, I met Blanchette around twenty thousand years ago," Oizys said with nary smile on her face. The expression that she was making right now was that of exasperation and disgust. "You see, I got trapped and tortured in a single place for a very long time, and that brat visited that torture chamber, mocked me in front of my face, and told me to wait for another set of unbelievable amount of time for something interesting to happen."

"I never knew she was that evil," Kivas murmured in disbelief.

"But you ended up freed, no?" Blanchette said with the biggest, widest smile of joy.

"... You think this is funny?"

It took the combination of Kivas, Samael, a Lust Tier Divine Construct, and some indirect help from Yoiglah to prevent Oizys from killing Blanchette.

"She is under my full control now, I can tell her to do anything for you instead!" Kivas said as she watched over Oizys being held by Samael by the arms.

"..." Oizys calmed down. "Become my chair everyday for an hour."

For the first time ever, Oizys showcased such a vibrant yet emotionless face filled with pride.

Seeing this scenery made Kivas wonder if there was something that Oizys didn’t reveal about their relationship.

Not to mention, it had essentially been revealed that Blanchette was very old, possibly existing at the same era where Samael was wreaking havoc as an Endless Dragon in the past.

If that was truly the case, then the theory that Blanchette just somehow possessed a similar spiritual signature as Kivas when she arrived, resulting in Blanchette acquiring the noble status and the surname of Chariot that Kivas had, was on the mark.

Aside from the personal mission that Kivas gave to Samael and Oizys, Vaingall continued to evolve with the passing of time.

Eventually, the tenth day had come, a new world record for Kivas’ longest time surviving in a single timeline.

At the same time, another major event popped up on Kivas’ radar.

A tension, tight and unspoken, settling over the land like morning dew on the canopy leaves of Vaingall..

Kivas stood near the center of a temple built from interwoven branches, fossilized bones, and threads of sanctified silk.

Above her, the great dome shimmered with scripture-laced banners fluttering between the ribs of the ceiling.

This was not just any temples that the Clatur Tribesmen built for fun, but the central forum of the New Vaingall Consortium—a faction that had been officially accepted on the human side of Fathomi, thanks to the Karasu Association’s suggestion and influence.

There, the council had gathered.

Samael stood at her side, her posture straight, fingers interlaced behind her back. Across from them sat Uhr’tarukh, the Voice of Soil, whose ashen-tattoed limbs folded patiently over his lap.

Sarkha’una, the Speaker of Veins, arrived with her iconic witch hat over her charming smile and her unique anatomy.

Blanchette, cross-legged on her seat and munching on dried skyfruit with an air of complete irreverence. Oizys, slouched with elegance, hands folded like a theatergoer awaiting the second act; several Limbo Tier Divine Constructs, eyes glowing with pale internal fire.

And a dozen Claturians—no longer defined as tribesmen, now positioned with dignity and purpose as equal voices in the chamber.

Samael’s voice scattered to the masses from the podium.

"Since the foundation of the new Vaingall, an important event has erupted, one that could possibly reach us without knocking," she began, voice even and resonant. "Not only that, this event should be the first of its kind, detected and confirmed by us with the collaboration of the Karasu Association."

Ever since the joint cooperation had been established, Samael had been using her mass-produced Limbo Tier Divine Constructs as her assets to cover the land, helped by Karasu’s Living Clouds technology to send the constructs far and wide.

Samael searched through the nook and cranny of Fathomi to dig for information, and it had only been a positive since Karasu Association also acquired a far wider reach of informant from this alone.

The hall quieted instantly. Even Blanchette paused her chewing.

"An event dubbed as Paradox War had arrived in Vaingall," Samael continued. "Primarily perpetrated by four factions. Two of them are major factions. The remaining two, rising but formidable."

Blanchette raised her hand lazily. "Question. What are the playing factions in question, and why do I suddenly feel like I should pretend I already knew that term just to save face?"

A Claturian man across the aisle raised his own hand, face serious. "I share the same ignorance. The factions named are not familiar to me. Clarification would benefit many of us here who nary sought political information of the latest chronology."

Samael’s eyes flicked toward Kivas, who gave her the smallest of nods.

Samael inhaled.

The lecture tone entered her voice like an old habit returning with pleasure.

"Let’s begin with the Hollow Aequor," she said. "A major faction in Fathomi. Historically significant. Perpetually mutable. They are composed of entities who dwell beneath oceans, seafloor canyons, and submerged memories.

"Their leadership changes often. Their culture redefines itself constantly. Their laws and priorities never hold shape for long. Yet, across all iterations, there is a consistent trait."

She gestured toward a Construct. It projected an image—a shifting blue-green mass with twisting coral limbs and a humanoid eye embedded in a shell made of jagged stone.

"They turn illusion into reality. Manifestation through collective belief, or focused will. If one of those illusions affected a place or an existing concept in Fathomi, and if their manifestation is potent enough... then it becomes real. Permanently. Physically. Unerringly."

One of the Claturians stood. "What happens if you get caught in it directly?"

"That depends on the source," Samael replied. "Some illusions are harmless. Some are dreams. Others alter your identity, your body, your lineage. In rare cases, victims have been rewritten out of existence and reshaped into tools, gods, or worse—memories that do not belong to them."

The chamber fell quiet again.

Blanchette, with a big wide smile on her face, was a second away from raising her hand to possibly ask yet another stupid question.

"Second," Samael went on, saving the entire meeting from whatever shenanigans that Blanchette wanted to induce. "The High Maosh."

A new projection formed by the Limbo Tier Divine Construct—tall figures of light and shape, wings like fractal radiance, halos composed of shifting runes.

"A faction consisted of the Maon. A race of altered entities. They resemble tall, elegant humanoids with long sharp ears, and a variety of enormous halo—often mistaken for angels, but they are not divine." Samael picked up a sign out of her pocket storage with the word ’Supreme Knowledge’, raising it high with forte. "They are sovereign scientists. Inventors. Engineers of logic. Their civilization stands atop layers of knowledge and calibration so refined, they had essentially formed an apex status that would never fall unless crushed by an iron might."

Uhr’tarukh raised his hand. "How strong are they if encountered directly?"

"That’s the thing, they will never directly participate in their warfare." Samael nodded to the projection. "The Mayin are artificial creatures. Sentient with a constructed Well of the Soul preset, they are designed for combat, diplomacy, infiltration, and control. Each Mayin is an avatar of a Maon’s purpose, given form and autonomy. They are loyal. And dangerous, and as powerful as a single high ranking Crimson Helot."

"How powerful are they, aside from being in the same tier as something that I had never fought before," Uhr’tarukh’s voice rumbled, spidery and curious.

Samael’s eyes sparkled as she maintained her deadpan expression. "A single Mayin infiltrated a sunbound fortress two centuries ago and caused an internal energy collapse that liquefied four hundred cities. No direct contact. No casualties among the Maon. All loss was on the victim’s side."

"Have you fought and defeated one yet?" Oizys asked with genuine intent.

"With the right method, they can be defeated. I, for one, had only defeated around three hundred of them in my lifetime."

"Then guess we’re safe," Oizys shrugged.

"The third," Samael continued, eyes flicking to the image again. "Is the Umaska Alliance."

This time the image was of a sprawling map—three interlocked continents stitched with leyline routes, monument cities, and towers that projected aurora-like fields into the sky.

"Unlike the Hollow Aequor or High Maosh, the Umaska Alliance is composed of multiple sovereign states unified by agreement rather than blood or divine ancestry. Their strength lies in numbers, in economy, in research. They are masters of the Well of the Soul. Their scholars can diagnose your spiritual affinity by taste alone. Their physicians can rewrite trauma from your essence like editing a scroll, all sort of spiritual manipulation."

Another Claturian woman raised her hand. "Are they hostile?"

"Sometimes," Samael said. "Their morality is contextual. They are not evil. But they are willing to exploit every advantage in the name of unity and survival. If that means dissecting you for study... they will do it with apology and precision.

"Karasu Association, for example, had once enacted a joint operation with them that lasted for two decades."

"Is that joint cooperation still running today?" Blanchette asked with a mocking tone.

"That happened two hundred years ago, so no."

"And the fourth faction?" asked a different Claturian.

Samael snapped her finger.

"The Yevdat Kingdom."

The projection dimmed, then reignited into shadow.

A single throne, forged from blades and marionette strings, surrounded by motionless puppets standing in rows that stretched beyond the horizon.

"Unlike the others, the Yevdat Kingdom is not a nation, nor a council. It is a single being. The Umbra King." Instead of Samael herself, two of her constructs pulled out a sign from their unified spatial storage with the word ’Dangerous’ and ’Ominous’. "Its territory consists of millions of puppets, each once a living being, now hollowed and repurposed. All share a fragment of its will.

"The Kingdom expands slowly, methodically. With each conquest, a new puppet is made. A new will be overwritten. But the Yevdat Kingdom’s last incursion was ten years ago, and it was as disruptive as it sounds. Meaning, we will certainly be dealing with them especially with how our territory is scattered."

Kivas could only hold a prideful and warm smile as she saw Samael excitedly share her knowledge, reminding her of that time when Kivas was still a clueless wimp, and Samael was always there, excitedly informing her everything that she needed to know, excessively.

"And now that we have familiared with the playing faction, let’s talk about the main dish of this meeting." Samael’s gaze sharpened. "The Paradox War."