Chapter 170: In the Table (2)

Chapter 170: Chapter 170: In the Table (2)The holographic projection of Krill Khians, the Royal Apostle, shimmered at the head of the obsidian table. Her glowing eyes scanned the assembly, lingering for a fraction of a second on the newly filled Seat of Circuit. The air in the vast, ancient chamber thickened with anticipation.

"For this timely meeting," Krill Khians began, her voice resonating with an almost hypnotic calm, "all of the Seats will receive the blood of our God, Krill Mainu. A sacred gift."

As she spoke, a series of hidden slots around the perimeter of the obsidian table hissed open. From each slot, a single, slender vial rose, each containing a shimmering, viscous silver liquid. A low murmur of excited, reverent whispers spread among the older Seats, their eyes fixed on the vials with palpable eagerness. Anton Rothschild, the Seat of Coin, visibly trembled with anticipation, a hungry look in his eyes.

Khians continued, her gaze sweeping over the new members. "For the newer Seats," she announced, her voice gaining a subtle emphasis, "this vial contains a promise. A vital draught of immortality and enhancement, prolonging your lifespan beyond mortal comprehension. A million years of life, if you so choose."

The doppelganger, meticulously programmed for the perfect human response, widened its eyes, a controlled gasp escaping its lips. It conveyed a flawless impression of stunned amazement and profound surprise, mirroring the genuine, elated reactions from Martin Rockwell, the Seat of Flame, and Ariana Moore, the Seat of Sight. Rockwell’s lips curled into a delighted, almost feral grin, and Ariana Moore’s eyes, usually calculating, now shone with an avaricious glee.

"Please," Khians intoned, a subtle command in her voice, "drink, and offer your services and devotion to our God, Krill Mainu. Embrace your destiny."

Without hesitation, the older Seats seized their vials. Anton Rothschild, practically shaking, uncorked his and downed the silver liquid in a single gulp. A faint golden aura pulsed around him for a moment, and as it faded, the subtle lines around his eyes and mouth seemed to recede, his skin gaining a renewed vitality. He sighed, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The other veteran members followed suit, each showing similar signs of subtle rejuvenation, their expressions of serene satisfaction deepening.

The new Seats, Rockwell and Moore, mirroring the older ones, eagerly took their vials. Martin Rockwell quickly swallowed the contents, a primal satisfaction flickering across his face. "A million years of power!" he whispered, a fervent gleam in his eyes. Ariana Moore, more refined, sipped hers slowly, her lips curving into a predatory smile. "The possibilities are endless," she murmured, a chilling lack of emotion for what she’d just embraced.

The doppelganger, however, executed its prime directive. It raised the vial, brought it to its lips, and made a convincing motion of drinking, but its internal systems subtly shunted the silver liquid into a specialized containment unit within its synthetic stomach, preserving it perfectly for Lina’s examination and study. Its external facade remained one of profound awe and contentment, seamlessly blending with the genuine reactions of its new ’peers.’



Krill Khians then began her address, her voice filling the chamber, weaving a narrative of cosmic purpose and calculated control. "You have accepted the gift, and with it, the sacred duty. Our God, Krill Mainu, brings not chaos, but order. Not suffering, but managed peace. For millennia, we have guided humanity, ensuring its survival by preventing its self-destruction, overpopulation, resource depletion, and ceaseless conflict. This Circle, these Seats, are the shepherds of this global order."

Then, with a shift in her holographic presence, she delivered the chilling revelation to the new Seats, her words perfectly clear. "The immortality you now possess, the vitality that courses through your veins, is a testament to this grand design. It is derived from the very essence of humanity itself—processed, refined human blood. The sustenance we take from the teeming masses, the harvest, is not merely for our survival. It is the key to your eternal service, to your boundless influence."

"We control overpopulation," Khians continued, her gaze piercing, "not with destructive wars, but with a refined, sustainable process. We gather those elements of humanity that destabilize the balance—the criminals, the drug addicts, the homeless, the rebellious. We treat it as... weeding. Removing the overgrowth to allow the chosen, the compliant, the truly valuable to grow and prosper. This is the path to stability. This is the promise of a million years of life, a million years of service, a million years of control over a world shaped to our divine will."

Martin Rockwell let out a low, satisfied laugh. "Weeding. I like that. Efficient." His eyes gleamed with a cold disregard for the human lives being discussed. Ariana Moore merely smiled, a thin, cruel line on her face. "A truly elegant solution to resource management," she purred, her earlier greed now sharpened by this newfound ’truth.’ The doppelganger, perfectly calibrated, mimicked a similar expression of chilling satisfaction, observing the genuine reactions of the others. It was clear: human lives, to these individuals, were merely a commodity, a resource to be managed, harvested, and sacrificed for their own prolonged existence and power. It didn’t matter to them; they were immortal now anyway.

"With that," Khians continued, her voice acknowledging their satisfaction, "as the tradition goes, your hard-earned companies and vast assets will now be formally owned by this Table. This is not a confiscation, but an integration. You will also be granted ultimate control over all companies and institutions under your domain. This ensures consistency, direct actionable authority, and prevents any... unforeseen disruptions to our global operations."

The new Seats, Martin Rockwell and Ariana Moore, reacted with an almost indifferent nod. They understood; this was merely a formalization of power they already wielded, a seamless absorption into the Circle’s vast, interwoven structure. The doppelganger maintained its composure, reflecting the same controlled indifference. It was clear they valued the power and longevity far above nominal ownership.

Khians then revealed another layer of the global hierarchy. "Know that there are also Apostles in different countries, presiding over different Tables. This is to ensure a healthy competition between our branches, fostering efficiency and ingenuity in our sacred task. However, in terms of Table competition, the USA Table remains the highest. This is due to its superior intelligence gathering capabilities, its unparalleled economic control, its advanced military resources, and the scope of its black project researches."

"These Tables," Khians added, "will also engage in diplomacy and agreements with other Tables as necessary, maintaining a delicate global balance. Understand that each Table’s own country government is largely under its command. Our particular domain, the USA, has been firmly grasped and locked in place, primarily due to the extensive performance of the Seat of Coin – Anton Rothschild – in feeding the pockets of politicians and manipulating its financial levers."

Ariana Moore, the new Seat of Media, ventured a question, her voice respectful but tinged with genuine curiosity. "Lord Apostle, with our continued control and humanity’s growth, would humanity eventually be able to colonize other planets? To expand our reach?"

Krill Khians’ holographic form seemed to ripple with satisfaction. "Yes," she affirmed. "And currently, warp technology, derived from the gift of our god krill mainu and our own advanced research, is still in development. As soon as it is ready, the next batch of harvested humans will be assigned a new purpose: to colonize the next star system. A contingency, a backup plan, in case of a true, cataclysmic World War Three. Humanity, under our guidance, will survive, ensuring a continuous supply for our divine purpose."

The doppelganger meticulously recorded every detail, every nuanced facial expression, every chilling implication. The names, the titles, the hidden structures of power, the casual revelation of human sacrifice for alien immortality—all streamed back to Lina’s quantum cogitator. The Krill’s game was far more intricate, and far more horrifying, than Richard had initially estimated. But now, he had a seat at their table and he intends to flip it over.