Chaptrr 78: At the Steps of the Monolith Pyramid
The air burned with residual shadow pressure, the Mythosaur growling low as the two Grand Faceless Sentinels held their ground before I:1-Aurum and Dakarie. Across from them, Vorth-Ka'Zir stood tall, surrounded by his elite troopers, his eyes locked on the towering, veiled figure now slowly advancing:
The Grand Blind One.
The sky above wept lightless rain as the ancient sovereign of the Broken Seers finally spoke.
"So," the Grand Blind One said, voice like shattered crystal over thunder, "the Ancient Shadows still wield this much strength…"
He lifted a hand, gesturing casually to the devastated terrain and the slain faceless.
"You must have only recently awakened. I've watched the multiverse…for eons. Your coffins were cold not long ago."
Vorth-Ka'Zir said nothing. He discarded the statement like filth.
Instead, he took one step forward, the psy-chains dragging behind him like deadweight.
"We are not here for words," he hissed. "I came for Dakarie, nothing more."
An Elder Seer made the mistake of speaking:
"He is—"
"Silence."
The Grand Blind One didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
His singular, void-crystal socket pulsed with gravity, and the Elder Seer crumbled to his knees, choking on air, paralyzed.
Then, the Grand Blind One turned to the others, his cloak flowing like living ink behind him.
"The Council will be dealt with once I'm finished."
At once, all four Elders, and every Faceless in the area, including the Sentinels and I:1-Aurum, knelt low in unison.
"As the Grand One wants it…so it shall be."
The rain stopped.
A strange silence clung to the air.
"You will not take Dakarie," the Grand Blind One said coldly, the words final. "But as a gesture of… balance, we will not join the Thalor in their war. Let that be your… peace."
Vorth-Ka'Zir said nothing at first. His gloved fingers flexed around the psy-chains, his knuckles cracking beneath the pressure. The Mythosaur hissed as if tasting blood.
He stood still.
For a full minute.
Then, finally…
"…Very well," he growled, venomous.
He looked around once more—at the crumbled corpses of his elite troopers, the shattered stone where blood boiled in silence, and the loathsome world beneath his boots.
"Recover the bodies," he ordered. "We return. No Shadow shall fall again on this disgusting world."
He spat on the ancient marble—where no one had ever dared to do so—and yanked the psy-chains with a sharp command in a forgotten tongue.
The Mythosaur reared, roared, and slithered back toward the ancient vessel.
Ruthen followed, silent, her remaining Thal'karn at her heels, bloodied but breathing.
The troopers carried the fallen with reverence. No words were spoken.
And then they left.
The Council Chambers – Deep within the Pyramid
The five thrones circled the center of the luminous atrium, floating on gravitational lifts. Four were filled by the Elder Seers, heads bowed. The fifth, grander than all, loomed taller—the Grand Blind One seated upon it once more.
None dared speak.
His voice returned like a cold wind:
"Three of you defied the silence. Three of you spoke in my presence."
The Elders crumbled, kneeling, robes pooling like shadows beneath them.
He let the tension crush them for a minute, maybe longer.
Then, he sighed.
"The Mahasimu… still command weapons beyond comprehension. Even I would not walk away unscathed from that thing they brought."
He gestured to the wall—now a holographic display the size of the chamber itself.
The ancient Mahasimu vessel was rising through the clouded atmosphere, fire trailing from its engines like falling stars.
"It was wise not to provoke further destruction. We are not immortal. Not even the ones… still gestating in our developing chambers."
The Elders remained silent.
"The Silent Ones are stirring again… And now, the Mahasimu awaken? There will be no neutrality, not any longer."
He waved his hand once.
"Activate the Gears of War."
Thousands of encoded commands were sent in a flash across the neural relays of Jha'mor'ak. War production would begin. The Faceless armies would prepare.
The Broken Seers would no longer observe.
Aboard the Ancient Mahasimu Vessel – Returning to Darkstar Station Aldre
The return flight was eerily quiet.
Inside the Shadowtrooper transport chamber, Ruthen finally broke the silence as she watched her blood-soaked Thal'karn being treated.
"Why didn't we just take Dakarie? We could've fought. The beast, you, me… It's only a matter of time before they align with the Thalor anyway."
Vorth-Ka'Zir, arms folded, psy-chains coiled around his legs, didn't look at her.
"Because," he said slowly, "they'll just grow back. The Faceless aren't an army. They're a disease. Kill a thousand, ten thousand rise from the soil again."
He finally glanced at her.
"I don't have the numbers to kill a species today."
Ruthen said nothing. She understood.
"But one day," Vorth-Ka'Zir added, eyes narrowing, "I will."
Outside the ship, space warped as the vessel approached the ominous figure of Darkstar Station Aldre, half a planet in size and shadow, rising slowly as the stars recoiled from it.