Chapter 168: In the Table(1)

Chapter 168: Chapter 168: In the Table(1)Miles from any major city, deep within a desolate stretch of the Nevada desert, Richard’s android doppelganger, accompanied by a small detail of human security, stepped out of a sleek, private jet onto a dusty, isolated airstrip. The air was hot, still, and heavy with the scent of dry earth. Waiting beside a polished black limousine was a man with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp, European features, impeccably dressed despite the oppressive heat.

"Mr. Santamo," the man greeted, extending a hand. His grip was firm, surprisingly strong. "I’ve been expecting you. I must congratulate you again for your incredibly successful business ventures. My name is Lex Martin, a representative of the Rothschild family."

The doppelganger, programmed for meticulously feigned surprise, offered a pleasant, acknowledging smile. "Mr. Martin. The pleasure is mine. Your reputation precedes you."

Lex Martin gestured towards a massive, unassuming hangar nearby. "If you’d follow me, please."

As they approached, the hangar doors, a seamless part of the desert landscape, slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss. The doppelganger’s internal sensors registered the vast, cool space within, but his programmed external reaction was a subtle, almost imperceptible widening of his eyes, a calculated gasp of awe. Inside, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, stood not one, but three genuine Unidentified Flying Objects.

Their metallic surfaces were seamless, alien, utterly beyond any known human technology. One was a classic disc shape, another a triangular craft, and the third, a more elongated, almost organic form. Richard had seen Lina’s simulations, but this was... different. The doppelganger successfully conveyed the impression of a man utterly captivated.

Lex Martin smiled, noting the doppelganger’s reaction with satisfaction. He led the way to a large table positioned just behind the alien craft. A tall, lean man in his fifties sat there, distinguished by long, curly brown hair and a meticulously maintained mustache. Behind him, two hulking security guards stood motionless, like statues carved from granite, their eyes unblinking.

"I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Santamo," the man said, his voice a smooth, resonant baritone. He extended a hand across the table.

"I am Anton Rothschild. I’m sure you must have heard of me from somewhere, but let me just say, congratulations on your ventures. Your company, Bytebull, and your name, are quite popular not only in the tech industry but also in the vehicle industry."



The doppelganger chuckled, a carefully modulated sound of polite modesty. "Thank you. I don’t get to where I am today without... well, without a lot of hard work. And a bit of support, of course." He intentionally mention of support, subtly testing if Anton would take the bait, implicitly confirming their behind-the-scenes manipulations.

Anton Rothschild’s smile widened, a knowing glint in his eye. "I admire your humility and intelligence, Mr. Santamo," he said, the words dripping with thinly veiled condescension. He chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound. "But sometimes, intelligence is just that. Even someone as smart as Einstein would only go so far without... support. Take Nikola Tesla for example. A mind centuries ahead of its time, wasn’t he?" The implication was clear: without their support, going against them would be consequential, and those who did faced dire outcomes.

The doppelganger’s internal processors immediately analyzed the statement, cross-referencing it with Richard’s vast, previously categorized data on historical suppressed technologies and the suspicious deaths of their inventors. The pieces clicked into place. This was confirmation. "Ahh, yes, you’re right, Mr. Anton," the doppelganger replied, maintaining his pleasant façade. "I’m just glad of the support and the impeccable timing of my... innovations."

Anton leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he stared down at the doppelganger. "As long as you know." He paused, a sigh escaping him. "My evaluation of you, Mr. Santamo, is... you’re a top-notch candidate with a refreshing humility. Come, let me show you the way."

The doppelganger rose, following Anton, his two stone-faced bodyguards falling in behind them. Outside the hangar, a large yellow square was illuminated on the dusty tarmac. Anton stopped on it. "I apologize, but I have to let my security check you," he stated, a hint of steel in his voice.

"Of course," the doppelganger replied smoothly. The bodyguards approached, their movements efficient. They searched quickly, finding only the doppelganger’s personal communicator. "No phones," one of them stated, taking it.

"Come, stand beside me," Anton instructed. The doppelganger complied. The bodyguards remained outside the yellow square.

With a soft hum, the square descended. The doppelganger perfectly mimicked a gasp of surprised shock as the world around them dissolved into an impossibly fast descent.

Anton chuckled, a genuinely amused sound. "Happens all the time. Don’t worry, Mr. Santamo. I will introduce you to our Circle."

The descent felt like forever, a blur of shimmering light and pressure, until they arrived at a dimly lit place. The walls were rough, ancient stone, forming a vast, winding tunnel. They walked in silence for several minutes, the air growing colder, heavier. Then, the tunnel opened into a truly breathtaking chamber.

It was a cavernous expanse of ancient, rough-hewn stone, yet seamlessly integrated with cold, glowing interfaces and pulsating energy conduits. Around a massive, obsidian table, several figures already sat in silence, their faces obscured by shadows, two remaining seats conspicuously empty.

Anton strode to one of the vacant seats and gestured to the other. "Please, Mr. Santamo, take a seat."

As the doppelganger sat, Anton addressed the shadowy figures. "Ladies and gentlemen, our new member of the Divine Concordance. The Seat of Circuit has been filled. This is Mr. Richard Santamo, now the sole owner of Bytebull and its burgeoning subsidiaries."

Anton then introduced himself, his voice resonating with authority. "I am Anton Vermino Rothschild, Seat of Coin. I handle financial and banking institutions globally. Under my influence are most of BIS, the IMF, The World Bank, the OECD, and many more. The world’s economy flows through our veins."

He swept a hand, indicating the other seated members:

"To my right, Colonel Grant Talbot (Ret.) – Seat of War." "Domain: Military-Industrial Complex." "Title: The Dealer of Iron." "A former general turned defense contractor mogul who profits from endless global conflict. Under him Colonel Lysander Dela Fuente (Colonel Vrax), Director of Outer Black Operations and head of Project Stargate (The Echo Legion), our super-soldier program, and Director Vortan, Director of Project Solar Warden, the Celestial Defense Initiative, and Dr. Lisa Vaughn, Director of Project Blue Beam."

"Next, Martin Rockwell – Seat of Flame." "Domain: Oil, Energy, and Natural Resources." "Title: The Lord of Veins." "The CEO of the largest global energy conglomerate, with ties to shadow markets for rare earths and oil. He’s also a new seat, like yourself, Mr. Santamo, having recently ascended."

"Then, Ariana Moore – Seat of Sight." "Domain: Media & Information." "Title: The Mirror’s Voice." "She controls media empires, shaping public discourse and rewriting reality with carefully curated narratives. Also a new seat, alongside Mr. Rockwell and Mr. Santamo."



"This is Dr. Natalie Calder – Seat of Breath." "Domain: Healthcare & Biotech." "Title: The Gene Whisperer." "She leads a multinational pharmaceutical group and covertly funds genetic research."

"Here we have Helen Vaughn – Seat of Time." "Domain: Historical Records & Secret Knowledge." "Title: The Librarian of Lost Ages." "A renowned historian with access to hidden archives and off-limits discoveries, guardian of truths best left buried."

"And Darren Sloan – Seat of Flesh." "Domain: Human Trafficking, Population Control, Vice." "Title: The Puppetmaster." "He poses as a philanthropist while secretly running vast exploitation networks and global psy-ops, specializing in... acquiring human assets."

"Next, Thomas Vance – Seat of Void." "Domain: Black Budget Projects." "Title: The Ghost of Progress." "He funds secret labs and underground tech projects that no government dares admit exist. If it’s bleeding-edge and morally ambiguous, it’s his purview."

"And Isabelle Grant – Seat of Roots." "Domain: Agriculture, Food, and Water." "Title: The Seedkeeper." "She heads agritech monopolies, controlling seed genetics, global food chains, and clean water access. The very sustenance of nations is within her grasp."

"Finally, Michael Severin – Seat of Chains." "Domain: Law, Justice, Surveillance." "Title: The Judge Without a Name." "He operates above all courts, shaping laws, privatizing prisons, and running global surveillance initiatives. He ensures compliance."

As each member was introduced, the doppelganger’s internal cameras meticulously captured their faces, recording every nuance for Lina to cross-reference and analyze later.

Then, a sudden, chilling shift in the chamber. A pulsating light emanated from the center of the obsidian table, coalescing into a shimmering, holographic projection. At the head of the table, what appeared was a reptilian figure, undeniably alien, yet dressed in the ornate, noble robes of a priestess. Her long, elegant tail coiled gracefully behind her, and fine scales shimmered under the holographic light. This was Krill Khians, Apostle of God, Krill Mainu.

As the majestic figure solidified, a profound, instinctual reaction swept through the room. Every seated member of the Divine Concordance, without a word, slowly lowered their heads, then knelt, their bodies touching the cold, ancient stone floor in an act of absolute reverence. The doppelganger, programmed for perfect mimicry and equipped with Richard’s advanced sensors, seamlessly followed suit, his synthetic knees bending, his head bowing low.

The reptilian figure’s voice, resonant and perfect in its English, filled the vast chamber. "Please rise." The command was soft, yet carried an undeniable weight of authority. As they slowly rose, the Apostle’s glowing eyes scanned the two empty seats now filled. "So, these are the new members. Welcome to the Circle."