Chapter 280 - No Crueler Tyranny... (Patreon)

I'm a little iffy on this title! It's sort of a deep cut at best, so I'll post the full quote I'm referencing here:

There is no crueler tyranny than that which is perpetuated under the shield of law and in the name of justice.- Baron de Montesquieu.

This particular tyranny isn't really calling forth the name of justice directly, but it is doing so indirectly, so I think the quote fits, but not perfectly. I could go into a full breakdown of why, but I think I'd rather just show you~

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The world is unmade and remade seventeen times per second.

That is, of course, a rougher estimate than many might feel comfortable with. The exact number of times is 16.9877042 times per second, plus or minus .000231 seconds each iteration. It’s easy to overlook the small differences when you’re not looking for them, but they’re there. And they’re a headache and a half to keep track of.

So. Unmade and remade seventeen times per second. 

There is the sky, of course. Not easy, maintaining a sky without an atmosphere. Takes a lot of work, keeping out all those eyes and keeping in all that air- but someone has to do it.

Commensurately with the sky are the sun and moons. All that writhing and lust to be free from one, all that bottomless hunger in the others. It takes a lot of Qi to keep the moons spinning, even when their orbit is so strictly stabilized, and it’s almost not worth it, if not for the formations carved into all the stones of each of them. And the sun is worse; hard to grow crops without it, and annoying to go without day and night, but for all the work it takes to corral it, to reach through time and weave events precisely enough that they intersect so that the construct stays whole… well. Some might argue it would be easier to dispense with the whole thing.

And then there’s the ground. It only goes down so far, really. Eventually, you hit the point where it starts to crumble apart, and find the things which feed on the crumbs and hunger for more. It takes some real gumption to keep a pie in one piece when the crust is coming apart. 

And all that’s not even touching on time. Now there’s a bitch to handle.

So yes. On average, something goes wrong terribly enough that things need to be un-and-re woven approximately seventeen times per second, lest any of the issues… compound.

It’s always nice to see one’s numbers improve. Two thousand years ago, it was closer to twenty-one times a second. Always refreshing to know that the system is working as intended.

Now, I need you to understand something.

Yes, you. I see you there. Paying closer attention than normal, aren’t we? Used to be decades between when I felt this much attention. Are you looking forward to the fireworks too?

I need you to understand that I don’t have eyes. Your perspective into this world may say I do, but I don’t. You might think I’m saying words, but I’m not. I’m very proud of that fact, and the more aware of it you are, the better I’m doing. 

I need you to understand that you don’t understand me. That you won’t comprehend me. Above all else, that I am not what you think I am. 

That’s what power is. Lying to what’s Divine.

Your Will will try to define me. Your comprehension of what I allow you to see will try to cage me in meager definition, as your Heavens press down on me from beyond the world.

And I need you to understand that you have failed.

I don’t fit in the lines. I am of a shape beyond your shape, and I am not a thing so small as to fit inside your eyes, poking holes in the sky and staring down.

So come on in. Watch what I allow you to watch. Know what I allow you to know. Slip past the structure of speech and word and pace and shape, and witness now what I want you to see.

In the time it has taken for me to say this, in so much as anything is said without words, the world has ended and been remade twelve more times. 

Funny how time works, when you’re looking through those teeny-tiny holes up there. 

There are three people in place around me. We stand in the world and of the world and some do not stand at all, but we exist here, and we see, and we know, and we speak.

Anaya of Infatuation, the Final Star, Bearer of the weight of Sky. Her world is blood and shadow and carmine-fuschia, the dusk of energy and the birth of conflagration, and she looks upon me with eyes that do not belong in her head and will be different the next time she blinks.

Silence of Dreaming, Godborne Chosen, Bearer of the weight of Ground. It stands in a place that is it and is void and is awake as it sleeps, an infinity of tongues seeing the world through the shapes of absence. It looks upon me with golden chains that shape its form and wrings poetry from their weave, singing quietly to itself.

Feng of Joy and Sorrow, the Jade Forest, Bearer of the weight of Life. He stands in human guise, not unlike Anaya, but where she is a world in the shape of a woman, he is a man in the shape of a tree, what was once human now stretched and warped and glitching into the form of a million-million lives. All of them are praying, and their faith whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

And me. I’m here too. Did you forget? That’s ok. You’re not used to this as it is, are you?

I’m at the top of the pyramid, looking down/up/in at that which makes up existence. My Titans. The things that hold this world together under my will, shaping it through my threads. 

I exist. I have a Blade at my side. The rest is for me to know and forget, and for you to be blind to and wonder.

I used to have a body.

Now I’m Emperor of Emperors, ruler of Titans. It’s much more convenient without one.

Anaya breaks the silence first.

“Why now?”

I shrug. Things have escalated a bit. New players on the field. Ants in the pantry. I figure it’s good to have everyone well-informed on things.

“And here I believed you were such a fan of surprises,” she says, smiling at my reaction.

I don’t like surprises. I like it when things go the way they’re supposed to. Surprises mean I have to remake the world seventeen times a second.

“You do half the world at best,” she says, drinking from a teacup that isn’t anywhere. There is blood in the cup, and it takes the shape of faces that swim and scream as she daintily sips. “And I’m doing my part. The Division of Divination is working just fine, and I’ve bled for their pools enough for one decade. Research and Altered Cultivation are both maintaining pace- two system upgrades for the Bastions, one for the base armor, and a few other promising new ideas. If there’s anyone that should be here, it’s the one that let the mess spill past the Wall.”

Feng turns a million heads to look at her and a million more away from her, disdain coloring his features. “I do not particularly care for your assertions,” say a thousand mouths, their voices overpowering the mass of the others. From the mouths wearing jade green, he scoffs at his fellow Titan. “You’re the one who refused to share warning ahead of time. If I had been properly informed about what would happen at the breach, the Division of War would never have let this spill get as far as it has. And if you let me-”

No need for that. I agree with Anaya on this- we’re on schedule, and it’ll do us some good to have a cull. Trial the newest Blade, get a few pests in one spot with the breach, and it’ll encourage a fresh batch of new hopefuls. Recruitment’s been down.

“And if I was permitted to pursue further assaults into the outer rings…”

Yeah, I know, but it’s not worth the cost. Exponential growth requires exponential resources, and we wouldn’t recoup our losses fast enough to maintain pace. And if I wanted to burn the whole place to the ground, I would’ve said so. Easier to let them uphold the Qi production for us, help stabilize things.

Speaking of-

“Yeeeeeeeeess~,” whispers Silence from out of its sleep. “Sleeeeeeep. Fffffffffitful. Nnnnnnnnoisy.”

Not too noisy, I hope.

“Nooooooot. Yeeeeeeeet.”

Good. Let a few more of them through, then shut the gates all the way. We’ll use it to cull the herd a bit, and better we choose where they chew holes and prepare than let them thin the thread all over.

“I’ll begin work on fresh deployments. I can divert some of the recruitment ads towards Daemon operators over soldiers, and if Anaya will do her part-”

“I’ll do my part, Feng. Shouldn’t be too hard. The harder the pests gnaw at the door, the more the children run from the fields into loving arms.”

Mmmh. Ok, glad we’re on the same page. A little war, then. Remind the people what we provide, get rid of the chaff, get some exercise in. 

“At last, something to do,” Anaya says with a sigh, the world rippling like water at her breath. It is the first one she has taken since the conversation began.

Ever am I a graceful monarch, that I provide my loyal subjects with bread and circus. Even the ringmaster should get a show every now and then. 

“And some bread!” she whines. “Been forever since you baked. I could really use some.”

We’ll see if I can make the time. Tell you what- you get the ingredients, and I’ll find a few hours to make you something proper, hmm? And in return, a bit more blood for the Pools. I want our Oracles in top form. Things have been just a little shaky, and I’d rather we get that resolved before even a little war.

“You drive a hard bargain, my liege, yet as always, fair and just. It shall be done.”

Good. Feng, isolate a city or two ahead of time, set up a quarantine. Give our fair lady something to play with, as a reward for her flattery.

“...yes, Emperor. And in return-”

Yes, yes. Two more bases then, hmm? I heard you lost one recently. You have my permission to empower two descendants to manage them.

“And operational discretion?”

Within reason. No genoplagues, no conceptual removals- just good old fashioned. Avoid the Gilded City, but otherwise, feel free to rile them up.

“Excellent, sire. Thy will be done. I shall cull the bacteria from beyond our walls.”

Just enough. They do us more good killing each other than they do united. 

“They won’t miss a few of their Tribes, my liege. I’ll reach out to the Republic as well- they’ve been seeking our technologies for the last few centuries, since the last cull. It shouldn’t take much encouragement for them to make some aggressive moves against the others.”

Good. And see what you can do about stirring the pot down south. The Forever-Burning has been too quiet lately, better it ignite and sputter out than enter a slow-burn.

“...Two more bases, perhaps? Equipped with tunnels, connecting the North and South through the breach.”

“Ugh. Feng, how many times have I told you, dear? If you want to know what I’m hiding in my robes, all you need do is ask politely.”

Hmm. I hadn’t realized we were close to breaking that tech.

“Neither do any of the children working on it, my liege.”

Hah! Good. Always nice to have a few cards up your sleeve, isn’t it, my darling star?

She bows, the ruffling of her aforementioned robes showing images of different vistas, strange and twisted landscapes and horizons. 

So what are you thinking, Feng? Connect the two, then lose the bases?

“Indeed, sire. We’ll lose a few Nascent Soul and Warrior realm cultivators, but little cost in the end to bring the hordes into the southlands. Just enough for the drakes to respond, at which point the tunnel will mysteriously collapse, securing their victory.”

Good. Make it so. A well-timed distraction will do us well here.

Go. Pursue what you must. Always remember how close we are. It would be a waste to have to do it all over again now.

They bow to me, save for Silence, which cannot bow and would not know how to, and then I am alone again.

With you.

Did you think I forgot you? I can’t. I don’t ever forget you out there. Watching. Allowed an audience. Am I not a loving Emperor? Am I not generous?

Do you think me a monster? Fine. You’re not even wrong. But even still, one thing keeps me free from you- you do not know me. 

And yet still, I am ruler of a world you cannot touch, and you hate me for it. I am god of a kingdom that isn’t yours, so you seek to crush me as I do my own lessers. It’s ok. I understand. Such is the way of things, no?

But I like it when you watch. When you get a good, long look at how I grow. Soon I will be more than you ever expected from one of us lowly beasts. Millennia of learning how to get it just right, and now we’re almost at the end. Just a few fun little diversions, a last few puzzle pieces, a few more steps of the balancing act, and we’re there. I will drag this world kicking and screaming into my new dawn, and then we shall see if I can’t teach you what a monster I really am.

Off you go now. Shoo. Go watch one of the ants crawling on my table. Next time you see me, it’ll be too late to stop me. 

Bye now.

See you soon.