NOVEL NEXT Chapter 125: The Wheat and the Chaff
The sanctuary, the place where the Church of Unbinding had its main base, was deep beneath what had once been a shopping center.
The walls were crude compared to what the humans did build when the apocalypse was just a hypothetical matter. But they were effective enough to mask their presence from surface detection.
In the central chamber, a system's artifact was on a pedestal, pulsing since it was currently activated. It was displaying the sky above the region.
Jorik watched the eighth citadel arrive, and he could not stop trembling, both for fear and rage.
"They're beautiful," Mara said. Her eyes tracked the smaller vessels forming a defensive line around each floating fortress. "Beautiful and terrible."
"They're problems," Jorik said, adjusting the scrying focus to zoom in on the nearest flying fortress. Strange symbols covered its hull, and shapes moved within. They were nonhuman figures.
"Eight main… ships. Thousands of support craft. The Allied Worlds aren't playing games anymore."
A chill swept through the room as Silas entered. He drifted forward like smoke, his pointed ears twitching as he neared the artifact, and his eyes were set on the images it projected. His dark eyes locked on the display, burning with cold fury.
"This was inevitable," Silas said.
"Inevitable?" Jorik turned toward him, fighting the urge to flinch at Silas's even more twisted look. Even after months of seeing it, the sight still got under his skin.
"They've brought an invasion force," Jorik said. "Whatever we've been doing, they noticed. They're here to stop us."
"They're here because our lord willed it." Silas tilted his head; the gesture was oddly birdlike. "Did you think his ascension would go unnoticed? Did you imagine the Allied Worlds would simply allow humanity to slip free of their cage without response?"
The air shifted again, and every person in the chamber straightened.
The Progenitor entered the room, his presence bending mana itself. There was a weird quality in how he moved, and it was one that commanded both fear and awe.
His pointed ears rose from dark hair that seemed to move in an absent wind, and his eyes burned with unfiltered power that made it painful to meet his gaze directly.
"Peace, my children." The Progenitor's voice resonated with harmonics that shouldn't exist in human speech. "This is not a cause for fear. It is an opportunity."
Everyone in the chamber dropped to one knee instantly. Jorik pressed his forehead to the cold floor, feeling the overwhelming pressure of a Level 250 being.
"Progenitor," Silas said, remaining on one knee but raising his head to meet those burning eyes without flinching.
"The Allied Worlds arrived."
The man nodded. "I suppose they have deployed a significant force."
"They did, my lord," Silas said. "Their commitment suggests they think of you as a threat."
"As they should," the Progenitor said, moving to stand before the scrying artifact. He studied the Flying Fortresses with an expression that might have been amusement.
"They understood what happens when a human is allowed to grow without their control. They fear us, and that's good."
"But they'll hunt you," Mara said in a worried tone, still kneeling. "They'll throw everything they have into tracking you down."
"Let them try." The Progenitor's smile revealed teeth that were slightly too sharp.
"They arrive with weapons and soldiers, prepared to wage war against humanity, and they think I will allow it? Fools. I am the next phase of our ascension. I will be the liberator who will rid humanity of its shackles, and while they search for me, I will deal with them."
Jorik risked raising his head. "Are we going to keep increasing our forces?"
"We free people, not recruit them for an army. If they join, it's their choice. I only want those truly committed to the cause—because this path will demand sacrifices." The Progenitor gestured toward the scrying display, where one of the citadels had already started sending smaller craft down toward the population centers.
"The Allied Worlds will try to tighten their grip on their System. They'll hand out resources, set up safe zones, and teach survivors to fight inside the cage they built for us. And in doing that, they'll show every desperate person on this planet exactly what I've been saying all along—that power is real, that you can reach for it, but the System only gives you crumbs. It's just that we need to show them what the crumbs are."
Silas got to his feet. "You want them to succeed."
"I want them to build a contrast," the Progenitor said. "When people see the aliens handing out scraps, teaching them to level up inside the System's cage, they'll remember what I offer. True freedom. Not a longer leash, but a broken chain. Power that's real."
"The wheat and the chaff," Silas said. "You're going to let the Allied Worlds strengthen the weak, then take the strong for yourself."
"Among other things." The Progenitor's grin stretched. "The ones who cling to the System's cage would never join us anyway. They don't have the guts, or the need, to break free. But the ones who see the alien 'help' for what it really is? The ones who feel trapped even when they're told they're safe? Those are the ones we want. They're ready."
Mara stood. "But, my lord, if the Allied Worlds strengthen the population, won't that make conversion more difficult?"
"In the short term, yes." The Progenitor turned from the scrying artifact, his presence filling the chamber.
"But in the long run, it will be difficult for them to fight us, to fight me…"
"We need to act faster, then," Silas said. "If the Allied Worlds are deploying in force, they'll be hunting us. We need numbers to wage wars and create the chaos needed to open the infidels' eyes."
"Agreed." The Progenitor's gaze shifted to each of them in turn. "Jorik, continue monitoring their operations. I want to know their deployment, their priorities, and their protocols. Knowledge of our enemy is power."
"Yes, Progenitor." Jorik bowed his head.
"Mara." The man's attention shifted to the woman, and she straightened under the weight of his regard.
"You will observe the settlements where these aliens establish their safe zones. Watch for those who are more willing to join us. Find the desperate, and bring them salvation through the church. When the time is right, we will offer them freedom. Find those who have already tasted violence, who understand that survival requires strength. The Allied Worlds will create thousands of fighters through their programs. We will show the best of them that there's a higher path."
"I understand, Patriarch." Mara's voice carried fierce devotion.
"And Silas." The Progenitor turned to his most powerful follower, Level 100. "You will start my new project as soon as possible."
"It will be done." Silas's pale features showed no emotion, but his dark eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Should we avoid direct confrontation with the aliens?"
"For now." The Progenitor's eyes returned to the scrying display, where the citadels hung like judgment over the continent.
"Let them establish their beachheads. Let them hand out their weapons and teach their limited techniques. Every human they foster is a potential recruit. Every safe zone they build is a future stronghold for the Church."
"They don't know what they're facing," Jorik said.
"They know exactly what I am." The Progenitor's voice carried absolute certainty. "A human who rejected their cage and survived. That's why they brought an army. They fear not my power but my message. Because if humanity learns they can exist without the System, the Allied Worlds lose their justification for controlling us."
The chamber fell silent except for the sounds transmitted by the artifact, which was still showing the citadels' deployments, alien forces spreading across Earth to save a species that didn't yet understand it had a choice.
"Spread the word to all our cells," the Progenitor said. "The aliens have arrived with gifts of power and promises of safety. Accept both. Learn everything they teach. Take everything they offer. Let them make us stronger."
His followers bowed as one, devotion written across mutated features.
"Now go," the Progenitor said. "We have wheat to separate from chaff."