RNP Page 588
Page 588
The cold reality, like a poisoned dagger, pierced through the rational defenses that Tica had just built.
She understood that, regardless of success or failure, Meastia had been placed on an altar of no return. If successful, he would be a hero, but might not share in all the glory.
If he fails, he will be the sole sinner, condemned to eternal damnation and bearing all the wrath.
A complex gaze fell upon Meastia, a mixture of indescribable shock, a hint of pity, and a deeper sense of bewilderment.
For the first time, she felt that this monarch, with whom she spent every day, was such a stranger. What kind of realization was hidden behind that frivolous smile?
How could he so readily accept this overwhelming and suffocating "guilt" that could crush anyone? Was it pure madness?
Or is it some kind of belief or transaction that transcends personal gain or loss and that she cannot understand?
What kind of courage does one need to calmly accept such a "criminal" action?
This question roared in her mind.
When Meastia noticed her assistant's silence, she simply raised her hand and waved it in front of her.
He seemed oblivious to the heaviness in Tica's gaze and had no intention of answering her questions.
His attention was now completely focused on the task at hand. The waving hand seemed to be brushing away unnecessary dust, or perhaps waking up his distracted companion.
“Then let’s begin,” his voice suddenly became solemn and dignified, and the usual frivolous smile on his face disappeared without a trace, replaced by a pilgrim’s focus and anticipation.
"Let's begin the real Grand Order decision! This is a ceremony that hasn't been held for hundreds of years!"
The moment he finished speaking, the several intertwined Monarch Key gems of various colors in his palm suddenly burst forth with an unprecedentedly brilliant light!
A massive torrent of magic was drawn in, flowing along the established rituals like rivers flowing into the sea, towards the core of Albion, which had been transformed into a temple.
The air trembled, the ancient earth resonated—a true "Grand Order Resolution" ceremony, sealed away for hundreds of years.
—Not a political meeting of monarchs, but an ancient secret ritual that invokes the highest authority of the Clock Tower—
It is being forcibly started by Meastia using "stolen" permissions!
.........
In another corner, at the observatory where the coronal resolution was being held.
Beneath the magnificent observatory dome, star charts twinkle and crystal arrays murmur softly.
However, the moment that magical storm originating from the core of the Spirit Tomb Albion, shaking the entire underworld, swept in like an invisible tsunami—
Time seemed to freeze.
The atmosphere that had just been filled with political maneuvering, exchanges of interests, or ideological disputes was instantly emptied, leaving only a deathly silence.
It wasn't just ordinary silence; it was a suffocating feeling of being forcibly choked by an immense force.
A powerful, divinely imposing surge of magical energy pierced through the thick rock layers, forcefully invading this hall that symbolized the highest power of the clock tower, gripping the heart of every attendee like a cold iron gauntlet.
Beneath this suffocating silence, the monarchs stood like statues in various poses, their inner turmoil surging silently.
The information brought by that storm was enough to stir up towering waves in the deepest sea of the heart, but the waves stirred up by each person were completely different in color and direction.
Ashira's body trembled almost imperceptibly, and her face instantly drained of all color, turning ashen like the ore from her family's mines.
Her hands, which were under the table, were clenched so tightly that her nails almost dug into her palms.
Those eyes, which once gleamed with shrewdness and ambition, were now filled with a deep-seated fear—a fear of reckoning, a fear of past betrayals, and a fear of the retribution that the source of this power might bring.
She gritted her teeth, trying to maintain a calm facade, but her bloodless lips and unfocused pupils, like ink stains on white paper, clearly betrayed the turmoil within her heart.
This fear, like a beacon in the darkness, was so glaring in the deathly silent hall that the other monarchs could not ignore it.
Inolei Baruyeleta sat upright as usual.
Her wrinkled face still held that serene expression that seemed to remain forever calm, and she even picked up the warm black tea in front of her and took a very slow sip.
Only the slightly narrowed corner of her eyes, hidden behind the shadow of the rim of the cup, and a barely perceptible curve of satisfaction rising in the steam of the cup, revealed the truth of her heart.
That "calm and collected" attitude is itself a silent declaration.
Rufreus Nazele Euryphus, however, made no attempt to hide his displeasure.
His deeply lined face was furrowed, his brows tightly knitted into a deep frown, and his white beard trembled slightly with a suppressed snort.
The knuckles of the hand gripping the ancient oak cane turned white from the force, and the tip of the cane made a slight but clear tapping sound on the ground, which seemed particularly abrupt in the deathly silence.
Those murky yet sharp eyes swept across the venue, filled with disgust and rejection of this force that was disrupting order and challenging tradition.
His emotions, like his identity in the Spirit Summoning Department, were straightforward yet gloomy.
...The reactions of other monarchs were even more obscure: some had shifty eyes, seemingly calculating gains and losses at lightning speed; others were expressionless, as if wearing the most perfect mask, burying all their thoughts deep within. And so on and so forth.
Everyone understood what was happening at that moment.
The aura of the divine age contained within that storm, the source pointing to the core of Albion, and the immense power capable of rewriting the very foundation of the magical world…
Every monarch present was a shrewd and insightful individual, and they instantly grasped the meaning behind this storm—the authority of the divine era was challenging the modern world!
However, insight does not equate to action. This suffocating silence is like a thick, cracked but not yet broken layer of ice.
Whoever speaks first is likely to become the first to bear the pressure, expose their intentions, or even get burned. The air froze, and the heavy pressure almost materialized.
Only the low roar of the magical storm, like a death knell in the background, continued to rumble silently beneath the magnificent observatory dome, among the twelve monarchs with their differing thoughts.
Everyone is waiting, waiting for the first person to break the silence under the pressure, or waiting for the storm itself to bring the final verdict.
"Alright, stop dawdling!"
Lily Dale slammed her hand on the table, instantly drawing everyone's attention to her.
She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over El-Melloi II, Aozaki Touko, Hanano Hishiri, and Olga Marie, lingering a little longer, especially on the latter two, as if she were silently considering something.
"Did you guys bring everything?"
Her tone was calm and unhurried, yet it carried an undeniable sense of authority, as if no one could escape the scrutiny of this issue.
Olga Marie's eyebrows twitched involuntarily; she clearly sensed that Lydia was referring to her directly, and her heart tightened slightly.
El-Melloi II remained completely unfazed, maintaining his usual calm demeanor as if everything in the room was irrelevant to him.
Hana no Ryori did not react at all, her eyes still lowered, as if she had already anticipated this situation.
Aozaki Touko smiled slightly and looked at Lidael with interest, her eyes seemingly filled with a playful mischief.
"I'm just a mere agent. How could Gigumar of the Curse Department possibly hand that thing over to me?"
Her answer was relaxed, with a touch of helpless humor, yet it also conveyed a sense of distance between her and the question.
As she finished speaking, Lily Dyer simply smiled gently, showing neither anger nor disappointment, but rather a hint of understanding in her eyes.
"what about you?"
Lily Dyer finished speaking again, her voice calm, but the sense of threat remained undiminished.
She stopped looking at Aozaki Touko and turned her attention back to El-Melloi II and Hanano Hishiri.
Chapter 623 New Issues (4k)
"Of course I brought it."
Hana no Ryori pushed up her glasses with her fingertips, and then her hand emerged from the wide sleeve of her kimono, holding a gemstone in her palm.
The shape and luster of that gemstone were almost identical to what Meastia had previously projected using "negation of non-duality".
This is a keepsake specially made by the former Grand Marshal of the Magic Path, the Second Magician, the Jewel Omnichua.
The "Grand Decree," an extraordinary ceremony established to activate the clock tower.
Immediately afterwards, El-Melloi II remained silent, and Olga Marie followed suit, each displaying a similar gemstone.
"It's good that you brought it." Lydia clapped her hands lightly, making a crisp sound.
“Now that ‘that thing’ has successfully manifested,” her voice carried an undeniable decisiveness, “then the previous phase of the meeting is adjourned. Now, please begin the true ‘Grand Order Resolution’!”
Lydia didn't even glance at the other monarchs at the round table to see if they had brought tokens of their respective families' authority.
In her opinion, this was completely unnecessary.
Because the other monarchs present at this moment are all rightful and undisputed heads of their respective magical families.
Their presence itself represented the will of their families, which was fundamentally different from El-Melloi II, who was merely attending as a proxy monarch for the El-Melloi faction, and Olga Marie, who was attending as an agent for the Animusfia family.
The next moment, all those holding tokens in the meeting hall—
Hana no Ryori, El-Melloi II, Olga Marie, and the other true monarchs—moving in unison, simultaneously and precisely embedded the crucial gem in their hands into the grooves of the round tables in front of them.
The moment the gemstone perfectly aligned with the tabletop—
hum!
As if an invisible pebble had been thrown into a calm lake of ether, countless intricate, precise, and nested magic circles suddenly appeared, centered on the embedding point!
Like ripples spreading across disturbed water, they possess a mysterious radiance, expanding, overlapping, and resonating outwards from the center point at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.
Immediately afterwards, it was as if an invisible carving knife was rapidly sculpting in the air.
Countless lines composed purely of radiance were born out of thin air. They were not chaotic, but followed some ancient and profound geometric laws. As if they had a life of their own, they moved rapidly through the air and intertwined precisely.
A vast, complex structure of light, containing endless mysteries, is being rapidly constructed beneath the dome of the conference hall at a speed visible to the naked eye.
At the very moment when those countless lines of radiance completed their interweaving—
The humming sound suddenly rose, transforming into a deep and grand fundamental tone, as if the entire ancient rock strata of Albion, the spirit tomb, were resonating with it.
The previously spreading magic circles did not disappear, but instead solidified in the air as if they had gained physical form, transforming into complex geometric patterns flowing with liquid light.
They are no longer flat circles, but three-dimensional light reliefs that are layered, nested, and slowly rotating, with their structure closely connected to the central core constructed by glowing lines.
The entire meeting space was completely redesigned.
The ground was no longer cold marble, but covered by a deep, liquid light curtain that seemed to reflect the starry sky.
Beneath the light curtain, the massive texture of the magic base was clearly visible, flickering like a living circuit board, with each alternation of light and dark accompanied by a surge of energy.
In the air, the core structure constructed of glowing lines—which transcends the concept of "lines" and is more like a polyhedral crystal formed from pure light energy and following non-Euclidean geometry—is suspended directly above the conference table.
Countless tiny, rune-like particles of light revolve around it like a constellation of stars, appearing and disappearing.
Each facet of the crystal refracts and recombines the light transmitted from the magic circle and light curtain below, transforming it into more complex and mysterious dynamic light patterns that are projected into every corner of the space.
The air was filled with the unique ozone aura of high concentrations of magic, along with an indescribable, chilling smell reminiscent of a mixture of ancient parchment and stardust.