World Domination System

As Faxul stood in the cave, frozen, with the sound of the waterfall behind him, he didn’t know what to think.

Daneel had accomplished all those wonders with the help of a stone podium like this one?

At this moment, Faxul had a choice.

He could play it completely safe-he could contact his best friend, ask him if what the podium was saying was true, and consider what to do next.

If it really was true, maybe Daneel might even share whatever he had obtained

But...why hadn’t he done that yet?

The other choice was to step ahead and explore this by himself, so that he could find out more before taking a decision.

As someone who had never hesitated to take risks on the path to power to accomplish what he wanted, Faxul considered both choices very seriously.

Before, his motivation had been to obtain revenge for his parents’ death. That singular motivation had led him to take the risk with that technique to grow stronger, even though his friend had strongly advised against it.

Now, his main motivation was to be a good King-one that his father would have been proud of.

For that purpose, Faxul knew that the best thing he could do for his people was to get strong enough so that he could at least hope to defend them when the time for the war came.

Although it was what his entire life was about right now, he was also indebted to his friend, who had made it possible for him to ascend the throne in the first place.

Knowing this fact, doing something like choosing the latter option would really make him someone who didn’t deserve Daneel’s attention at all.

Even if it was true that Daneel had used the podium, or something like it, to go stronger and had hidden this fact for reasons that were his own, Faxul found no logic good enough to make him want to hide this from Daneel-the one person in his life who had done so much for him.

So, without any more hesitation, Faxul was just about to take out the special communication trinket, that was shaped in the form of a special coin carved with the Lanthanorian crest, when he suddenly felt that something was wrong.

Usually, when one touched a trinket, all it would require was a conscious thought to activate the formation and send the message.

However, right now, Faxul felt as if his mind was completely cut off.

With growing horror, Faxul tried again and again, but the communication trinket did not respond in any way.

Finally, realizing that he was in danger, Faxul turned around and started to run.

The thing that had finally let him realize that fact had been his failed attempts at contacting the Protector Raven.

Somehow, he had been completely cut off from the world.

He hadn’t had to walk in a lot to reach the podium, so the curtain of water was just a few meters away.

If he could reach it, he could simply indicate to the Protector Raven that something was wrong, and it would definitely save him.

However, strangely, the distance between him and the entrance of the cave hidden by the waterfall seemed to be widening.

Every step he took seemed to take him farther away from the exit, instead of closer.

This incongruity in what he was trying to do and what was happening made him puzzled, before he started to understand that he had entered some sort of bewilderment formation.

Calming down, he was just about to cast a spell that would allow him to find the correct path out, when he found that he could no longer feel his Mageroot either.

What the...hell?!

Cutting off someone’s mind, even though it sounded very mystical, was something that wasn’t unheard of in the Central Continent.

Often, magical prisons would have complex formations like these, supplied by Eldinor, to make sure that no communication would happen with the outside.

However, the ability to make one feel as if they had no mageroot at all-this, this was impossible.

Who the hell was doing all this?

At first, Faxul focused on the podium, but he saw that it had been inactive from when he had touched it.

Who, else, could be responsible for all this?

Faxul got his answer a minute later.

From the distance, he could see the shadow of a meandering giant, which was at least 7 foot tall, walk forward with loud thuds.

As his heart started to beat faster, Faxul watched on, powerless to do anything as doom walked toward him.

When the shadow turned a corner, Faxul realized that it was just a man.

The shadows had made him seem much large, and the echoes of his footsteps had made it seem as if he were a giant.

However, just as he was about to feel relieved, he saw that something was wrong.

The man was wearing ragged clothes, which looked as if they had been on his skin for years and years.

A stench floated into Faxul’s years-that of someone who hadn’t bathed in decades.

Wrinkling his nose, Faxul noticed that these weren’t the most disconcerting things about the man.

No, it was his face, and the way he walked.

If Daneel were here, he would have recognized that this man looked like he was wearing a straightjacket.

His arms were tightly pressed to his body by invisible forces, and his knees were twisted inwards, making it so that walking was probably the only thing they could do.

As for his face-it was one straight out of the darkest of nightmares.

Hair matted with mud and other fluids framed it, and through the gaps that were present, Faxul could see that the man’s eyes were wide open.

His eyeballs were rolled back so that only a small part of his pupil was visible, and his head also moved from side to side as he walked towards Faxul.

The unknown was often the most terrifying thing, in most cases.

Even now, it was the same.

Faxul found himself rooted to the spot: unable to move as he saw the monstrosity approach closer and closer.

With each meter that was covered between them, he could see more and more details.

For instance, he could see that this man was wearing clothes that had been royal once, but he couldn’t tell which Kingdom they were from.

His features were bold and striking, but the crazy look on his face would never let anyone focus on them.

His teeth were shut tight, but he seemed to be moving his lips up and down, as if he wanted to talk, but couldn’t.

All in all, Faxul prayed with all his might that this was just some dream he was trapped in.

However, the stench, and the danger, were all too real.

He had thought that he at least his strength as a Fighter left to defend himself, but he felt that sapped from him too when the man reached him.

Raising his right hand which had been pressed tightly on his body all this while, he tapped Faxul’s forehead, which made the latter’s eyes roll up into the back of his head before he fainted.

The hand had been shaking, as if there was someone trying to stop it, but failing repeatedly as the will of the force driving the hand was too strong.

After Faxul collapsed into a heap, a voice could finally be heard from the figure.

"Heehee...

A new host?!

A brother to suffer with me...

No, he shouldn’t have to suffer like me...

But I was so lonely all this time!

That doesn’t mean...

Shut up! He’s staying with us!

Oh Almighty Lord of...

Screw your Almighty Lord who has forsaken you! First, he will fulfill his duty outside! Then, we must make the assimilation with that bastard Hero in the stone fail! IT MUST FAIL, AND HE MUST BECOME LIKE US!

You idiot, that Hero is listening..."

In the beginning, it was as if two voices were conversing with each other alternatively.

Towards the end, the first voice completely took over, and it had such hints of madness that it would have driven away anyone who heard it.

Only, the last sentence was spoken by the second voice, which seemed more or less sane.

After the last statement reverberated in the cave, the figure ducked down and looked around, as if trying to see whether anyone was watching it.

It was a childish gesture, but it showed just how far gone into the depths of madness that first voice was.

After making sure that it was alone, the figure grabbed Faxul’s arm and dragged it to the stone podium.

Laying it on the top, the figure retreated into the cave, with its hands completely immobile again.

By the time the sound of its footsteps faded, Faxul woke up with a start.

Wait...why am I on the ground? And what’s that smell?

The last thing I remember was...trying to decide what to do.

Did I faint because of something this podium did?

Should I tell Daneel about it?

As Faxul asked himself the last question in his mind, a different answer than before sprang from its depths, its origin unknown.

It was very different from the voice that used to be in his head before, when he had transplanted that other consciousness into his body to gain power faster.

It was of a much higher level, and it felt indistinguishable from his own thoughts.

Oh, yes. His friend had been very distressed when he hadn’t followed his advice before, regarding the other consciousness.

What was to say he would share what he knew now?

Why wouldn’t he keep it with himself in the hopes of becoming the strongest alone?

Yes, maybe contacting Daneel would be a bad idea.

Maybe he could try this thing out first.

As thoughts like these started to revolve in Faxul’s mind, he considered whether to touch the podium and talk to it again.

....

Meanwhile, in the office of the Head of Medicine.

After being screamed at by the Mad Doctor, Daneel closed the door behind him and abruptly sat down on the seat in front of him.

The Mad Doctor looked absolutely ready to slaughter him, so Daneel got straight to the point.

"Sir, I know what happened to your eldest son. I was a staunch supporter of his. My blood is boiling for revenge. Please let me help you in your quest for revenge."

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