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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Klokinator on 2024-12-03 16:28:08+00:00.
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(Part 001)
Unarin stands inside his Sanctum, alongside Dosena. The glint of many ancient pieces of art on the walls do not draw Unarin's attention as they usually would. Instead, his thoughts dwell on the rather sudden and unexpected battle between the two Wordsmiths, a battle he did not see coming but which also isn't entirely out of his expectations. Naturally, he noticed some tensions building between them in the past, but he could never fully account for the thoughts they were secretly holding within their time-accelerated domains.
The two highest Founders wait for a while until the individuals they've been expecting finally arrive.
The doors to Unarin's Sanctum slowly open, and two Psions enter. Executor Riley, and Executor Sartran.
They did not teleport inside, because that would be extremely disrespectful to the First Founder's authority. In the Volgrim Empire, none may enter his Sanctum without permission. Not even the highest of High Psions. Only three individuals have obtained such a special privilege, those being Founder Dosena, Muuxunuu, and Unarin's brother, Randis.
Not even the other three Founders possess the right to desecrate Unarin's Sanctum without permission. This therefore stands as a testament to the rest of the Empire on just how intimate Unarin's relation is to the other three. He even considers Dosena to be as close to him as his own family.
The Executors enter, agitation visible on their faces. Clearly, after the battle on Maiura, they did not anticipate that the two Wordsmiths would suddenly pounce at each other's throats.
Unarin faintly frowns. "Where is Creator Demila?"
Sartran bows his head. [Apologies, First Founder. After the battle, I dispatched her to check the situation on Tarus II. She will return shortly. Her infiltration skills are excellent.]
"I see." Unarin says, his tone plain. "I am interested in her perspective. She has been watching the humans for longer than the rest of you combined. She may be able to shed light on this new development."
[Are we going to intervene?] Riley asks.
Unarin remains silent for a time. He stares at her, his face giving away no clues as to his inner thoughts.
"...That will depend on any useful details you can give me, as well as Demila. Start by recounting the events on Maiura. Leave out nothing."
Sartran lifts his head. [With permission, I will transmit a psio-burst.]
Unarin nods. "To Dosena. Both of you."
The High Psions nod. They open up their minds and instantly transmit every single piece of information they collected during the battle on Maiura. Using her super-accelerated mind, Dosena finds it utterly trivial to sort through a mere few hours worth of memories, collecting and assessing each point one-by-one.
After checking to ensure none of the information is compromised, and also that none of the High Psions have been compromised, Dosena transmits a nearly identical data-burst to Unarin. It would not be acceptable for anyone but her to do this, for Unarin does not trust any other Psion with slipping information directly into his mind.
Not that they could, even if they wanted to. As a practitioner of the Mind of Void, Unarin's ability to resist Psionic mental links is powerful to the extreme. Over the eons, only Dosena has mentally communicated with him enough to bypass some of his filters.
A minute later, after Unarin silently receives Dosena's transmission, he finishes digesting all of the new information. His expression becomes inscrutable.
"As I suspected. There does indeed seem to be a sinister intelligence lurking within the heart of the swarm. It is not as mindless as it purports to be."
Unarin falls silent again for a few moments.
"The matter of Kolvaxians hiding their Psionic abilities is alarming. We must now assume that they are capable of deep planning and plotting. It is very likely the Executor Plaguehosts are feigning weakness. They are capable of fighting at the 8th Level of Psionics. They merely choose not to do so in order to make us complacent. From now on, we must assume that they will reveal this capability in a future battle."
[I have my own thoughts on the matter.] Dosena interjects, her voice plain. [I believe it is possible, perhaps even likely, that the Plague can replicate the same host over multiple instances. The swarm has never shown this to be possible, but if we assume it is, then we could see ten copies of Executor Huron appear within Milky Way space all at once. Perhaps even a hundred copies, a thousand, or millions.]
"That is a terrifying thought." Unarin mutters. "If true, then this war is already lost. The Plague will be unstoppable. There is no point in entertaining such thoughts. We already know that killing a unique Plaguehost, such as Sartran's doppelganger, will cause it to regenerate elsewhere. I prefer we assume that only one of these individuals may appear at any given time. Anything else is a gross violation of the laws of Cosmic Conservation. I refuse to believe Akasha would allow any Ruler to create such an unstoppable army."
Dosena doesn't retort. Even she believes this to be a step too far, and would simply mean that the war is lost. The Second Founder might be powerful, but not even she could defeat a thousand of Huron's clones attacking her all at once. Her best option at that point would be to flee for her life.
At that point, why even bother fighting anymore? The Volgrim might as well start hiding in pocket dimensions or fleeing into the Unknown.
Unarin begins pacing back and forth, allowing his thoughts to wander.
"The matter with Neil Adams is... troublesome. I spoke to him on this very day, and was even beginning to make plans to deepen our collaboration. He was wiser than I expected, though burdened by his hatred of demons. I still believed we could work together to achieve greater things."
"For him to abruptly stumble and fall over his feet like a clown... it seems there was some external intervention involved. Creator Demila was the closest during that event. Let us wait to hear her testimony before I make any final decisions."
Unarin's eyes betray no emotion, but internally, he already has a suspect in mind.
It was Demila, not Jason, who caused Neil's death. Hope Hiro jumped to a different conclusion because of his hatred of Jason, but the matter is all too clear to me, as it must be to Jason. But why would Demila kill Neil Adams? Especially without my permission? I shall give her a chance to explain herself before I render judgment.
A flicker of killing intent flashes through Unarin's heart. This unruly subordinate failed to capture Gressil and has reported only the most useless information until now. She caused a major diplomatic incident, and it could cause a huge rift between humanity and the Volgrim.
To do all of that without Unarin's permission, she had better have a good reason!
The First Founder does not tolerate insubordination.
Unarin and the Psions engage in further small talk, dissecting the events of that day, as well as discussing several key losses. The deaths of the Archangels genuinely surprise Unarin the most. How could Raphael allow his foolish sister to blunder into the Kolvaxian's claws? Unarin begins to wonder what sorts of powers the swarm will obtain once it digests Archangel Uriel completely.
Twenty minutes later, Creator Demila arrives back on Volgarius, traveling to it via a Warpgate. She hurries to the Founder's Thumb as quickly as possible, causing Dosena to frown as she senses the rapid approach of her junior.
[Something isn't right.] Dosena remarks privately to Unarin. [Her emotions are unstable. She is uncharacteristically anxious.]
Unarin narrows his eyes.
"Is that so..."
Not even a minute later, Creator Demila teleports just outside the Sanctum. She waits, her body trembling, until Unarin motions with his hand. Then, she power-walks inside.
After entering, and before Unarin can say anything else, Creator Demila quickly drops to one knee and bows her head deeply while slapping a hand over her heart.
[Founders, forgive me! I acted without permission!]
Unarin blinks. This wasn't what he expected.
"Elaborate." Unarin says, drawing the word out.
Creator Demila keeps her head lowered, unwilling, or perhaps afraid to look into Unarin's eyes.
[It was I who caused Neil Adams' death to the Plague.] Demila freely admits. [I did this without permission and caused an...
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