Chapter 103: 86 - Lecture I
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What’s taking them so long? What are they even doing?
My mind was spiraling.
Two full anime episodes plus a fifteen-minute commercial break had passed, and still no sign of them. Honestly, I was starting to get worried. But mostly, I was annoyed. They literally said, "Just a moment, wait here"—classic. Absolutely classic. A moment by whose standards? Human standards? Time deity standards? Or was this a ’moment’ according to an NPC stuck in a wall glitch?
I glanced at the clock. Then the door. Then back at the clock. I repeated that sequence four times before finally collapsing onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. Once, twice, three times—each second dragged like an FPS drop during a climactic cutscene.
Logically, the outcome was obvious. If Selene stepped in, Arthur should’ve been toast—no sound effects needed. But apparently—
"They are a blight, Azalea."
Selene’s voice exploded from afar, like some metaphysical loudspeaker designed solely to torture my eardrums.
I let out a deep breath. Slowly—very slowly—I reached for a pillow by the sofa. Then—thud. I covered my head with it.
And of course, she continued.
"Their entire existence is a lie, built upon the suffering of who knows how many beings. Every drop of their power—stolen. Ripped from innocent lives, from ancient lands, from forgotten pacts. And now they flaunt it, as if it’s truth, as if it’s justice, as if it’s divine."
"Arthur is just a filthy brick in their tower of lies, Azalea. Just another foundation in their massive fraud. They promise order, power, stability, prosperity, enlightenment!"
"But all they bring is ruin! They shattered sacred oaths, vows forged in blood and starlight. They betrayed trust, and they ripped apart my life. My family’s lives. Thousands of others."
I slowly lifted the pillow. "...Okay. We’ve officially entered thesis-advisor-mom mode racing a dissertation deadline."
"They came smiling. Promising peace. Shared knowledge. A brighter future. My ancestors—fools, all of them—believed. They opened their doors, shared secrets, let Archons live among them as ’equals.’ And the payback? They learned our weaknesses. Mapped our ley lines. Catalogued our magical strengths and flaws."
"And once they’d absorbed it all—once they were strong enough to be invincible—they turned. No war. No fanfare. They just... started leeching. Twisting our laws. Corrupting our magical sources. Draining our lands from the inside out. They criminalized our very existence. Called our legacy ’dark arts’—when their magic is filthier than anything we’ve ever imagined."
I snorted and pulled up the auto-transcript on my imaginary tablet.
"You’ve seen Arthur’s true form, haven’t you? That massive serpent? That’s what an Archon really is. Not just some shapeshifting gimmick. That’s their essence, Azalea. Their aura, their breath, their very presence... it literally sucks the energy out of everything. That’s why places they linger turn barren. Why people near them get fatigued. Why even magic weakens. They are leeches. Glorious, revolting leeches. Breathing alone is a hazard."
"Kairi probably told you all this, back when your memories were intact. Or maybe not. But she definitely knew who Arthur truly was."
I threw the pillow up.
WHY AM I MENTIONED?! WHY AM I BEING SUMMONED INTO A MONOLOGUE I DIDN’T EVEN SIGN UP FOR?!
"They drained our lands, left them barren. Stole our Aether until our magic shriveled. Forced us to kneel. To serve. To hide. My family—the keepers of primordial healing magic—were hunted like animals."
"They call us ’sorcerers’ with disdain. But the real monsters? That’s them. Divine? They’re parasites, bloated on the stolen life force of those they deem inferior. They’re master con artists, Azalea. Not demons who destroy cities with fire and claws—that’s too crude. They work from within."
"They worm into the heart of systems. Promise ’improvement,’ ’efficiency,’ ’order.’ Sit on councils. Advise kings. Infiltrate organizations like the International Magic Association—just one of many fortresses they’ve hollowed out. They appear as the superior solution. The calm, rational voice. All while redirecting resources, twisting policies, eroding foundations. And when it all collapses? They swoop in as saviors. They are both the disease and the fake cure."
I slumped back into the couch.
"This isn’t a rant anymore... this is a supernatural TED Talk on systemic corruption."
"And their superiority? Oh, they flaunt it every chance they get."
"Take Arthur. You think it was coincidence that women kept falling for him? That they gravitated toward him, only to wither after he left? That’s not just charisma, Azalea. That’s a strategy. Domination. Consumption. They’re snakes—in shape and in essence. Tongues sharp, seductive, perfect for liars and predators."
I started adding notes in the transcript:
Comment 1: "Repetitive. The charisma-consumption point could be condensed."
Comment 2: "Line about ’bloated from stolen life’ is effective. Use more strong metaphors earlier."
"But of course... There are good monsters. Rare. So rare most have lost hope. Born of mutation. Spirits that resist being corrupted by the Archons’ essence. Or remnants of ancient bloodlines untouched by rot. They don’t show their true forms. They hide. Act rude. Live on the fringes."
"Because being genuinely kind, gentle—it makes them targets. Targets for Archons, who’d dissect and weaponize them. Targets for humans, who’d condemn what they don’t understand. So they build walls. Snarl. Push people away. That’s the only way to protect the last flicker of decency in a world that only sees monsters."
I stared blankly at the tablet.
Comment 3: "Good. Dramatic. But this is paragraph 37. Please breathe."
"And Arthur... he’s not one of them. He’s a true Archon. A true parasite. He drained your mission, your strength. He would’ve devoured everything. He’s part of their edifice of lies. And he deserves every agonizing breath under my power."
I closed the tablet. Deep breath.
"Welcome to Ear-Hell. Hosted by Selene. Featuring special guest: the collective trauma of magical history."
And with that, I filed the transcript under:
[Kairi_Final_Supernatural_Lecture_of_the_Century]
My initial annoyance had curdled into a peculiar blend of fascination and utter exasperation. This wasn’t just a venting session; this was a full-blown historical indictment, delivered with the passion of a thousand wronged souls. Selene wasn’t merely angry; she was an open wound, festering with centuries of betrayal.
"They didn’t just take our power, Azalea," her voice reverberated, now laced with a chilling calm that was far more unnerving than her previous fury. "They redefined it. Our ancient rites, once sacred communal acts that drew from the land’s vibrant heart, they branded as ’primitive.’ Our connections to elemental spirits, which sustained our harvests and purified our waters, they dismissed as ’superstition.’ They systematically dismantled our cultural framework, replacing it with their sterile, controlled narratives. They told us our magic was ’wild,’ ’unpredictable,’ even ’dangerous’ to ourselves. And then, with their insidious smile, they offered their ’solutions’ – regulated ley lines, centralized magical academies, ’safe’ spell matrices. Each ’solution’ was another link in the chain they forged around our ankles."
I could almost see her, even though she was nowhere to be seen, gesturing with spectral hands, conjuring images of downtrodden peoples and vast, empty landscapes. It was a masterclass in psychological warfare, a historical revisionism so complete that the victims were made to internalize their own inferiority.
"Do you understand the depth of that manipulation?" she pressed on, her voice rising again, infused with a raw pain that transcended mere anger. "To be told your very essence, your heritage, your ancestral wisdom is flawed, is dangerous, is wrong? To have your children grow up believing that the ways of their grandparents were barbaric, that their inherent magical sensitivity was a defect to be ’cured’ by Archon-approved methods? That’s not just conquest; that’s soul-murder. That’s severing a people from their roots, leaving them adrift and desperate for any guidance, any stability offered by their benevolent overlords."
My fingers flew across the tablet, adding another note:
Comment 4: "Powerful. The ’soul-murder’ line resonates deeply. Expound on the cultural destruction more earlier to establish the emotional core."
"And the pretense of ’equality’!" Selene scoffed, a sound like grinding teeth. "Oh, they were masters of it. They would invite our elders to their ’councils,’ listen attentively to their concerns, nod sagely, and then... do precisely nothing. Or worse, twist our words, use our own traditions against us. They would offer ’aid’ during famine, only to demand servitude and access to our deepest magical reserves in return. They presented themselves as the paragons of advanced civilization, yet their ’advancements’ always came at the cost of someone else’s freedom, someone else’s vitality. They are architects of a gilded cage, Azalea, beautiful on the outside, but ultimately designed to starve you of everything that truly sustains you."
