I Can Assimilate Everything Chapter 722: Oddities

THE Observed Existence of the Braneworld demanded attention from every direction, all at once.

Beyond the brilliant golden rivers of Observable Force filling the atmosphere—concentrations so dense that merely breathing felt akin to cultivation—Achilles perceived a distant citadel, stretching for light-years in every direction he gazed. Towers of gold ascended to impossible heights, their pinnacles vanishing into golden clouds that parted and reformed with the patience of entities existing for eons. Crystalline structures linked these towers in configurations that appeared to express the glory of various Causes of Existence, each edifice radiating an authority far older and more fundamental than anything he had previously encountered.

The Causes emanating from these structures felt grander than the Miniature Causes he had previously encountered.

They possessed the quality of being connected to THE First Cause of this Observable Existence itself, expressions of creative principle so foundational that even the concentrated Observable Force surrounding him seemed to implicitly defer to them, a presence his perception registered without fully translating.

He sensed the potent auras of millions of Gilded Ones within that distant Citadel, pressing against his awareness from light-years away. Each contributed to a collective presence that made the very atmosphere feel inhabited rather than simply suffused with power.

Vireth, standing beside him, observed his gaze.

"The one we shall follow, who will lead the Gilded Legion tasked with confronting the newly emerged Osmontian, is known as Sororis Prima Elizabeth."

Her weariness had given way to a more operational demeanor.

"We are, in essence, outsiders here. I originate from a different time, and the others who will join us soon are outsiders in their own unique ways. It is imperative we maintain the secrecy and decorum demanded by the situation."

Her crimson-gold eyes held the profound seriousness of someone explaining a constraint with tangible repercussions.

"THE Primordial Source must not become overtly aware of our presence, lest we be entirely rejected from this space. Therefore, we must navigate this limitation with extreme care."

As she spoke, a surge of power erupted around them.

Six entities materialized.

Achilles felt his very existence compress slightly under the concentrated weight that permeated the surroundings upon their arrival.

Three of them radiated auras comparable to Vireth’s own authority, he estimated. The first was a powerfully built man with skin like obsidian and a single eye centered on his face where two should be. His presence exuded a compressed quality, suggestive of someone who had, across eons of cultivation, stripped away everything superfluous from their existence until only pure function remained. The second was a woman clad in a green gown, her fiery green hair causing an involuntary comparison within Achilles’s chest, which he immediately dismissed. Her eyes were completely concealed by a blindfold, yet waves of verdant holy light emanated from her form, seemingly blessing and scouring simultaneously. The third entity was a crimson slime bearing a devilish expression of brutality etched into features that should have been incapable of expression. Its surface rippled with the casual menace of something finding the current company adequately amusing.

Behind these three were beings of an entirely different nature. They appeared to be entities drawn from disparate Observable Existences and brought to this place, each possessing the distinct quality of individuals thrust into circumstances far grander than their original context. These Gilded Ones had evidently deemed their unique essences worthy of the considerable effort required for extraction. The first was a young woman whose proportions suggested a child, yet her figure was too precisely formed, her composition too deliberate. Her entire being radiated no sense of power whatsoever. She stood with the stillness of one who needed no outward display of readiness, for readiness was simply her perpetual state. Her oddity was unfathomable, defying immediate categorization by his Architect’s Perception. The second was a man whose imperious bearing announced itself before any specific detail. His eyes brimmed with a pride and arrogance that had clearly been cultivated rather than merely possessed. Rivers of golden Infinity flowed around him in currents that responded to his presence with the familiarity of something long tamed. Simply by standing near him, all other tendrils of Infinity weaving through the atmosphere seemed to reorient toward his gravitational pull, organizing around him in a manner suggesting control rather than mere attraction.

Achilles could grasp a portion of this. It appeared that the Gilded Ones were attempting to counteract The Osmontian's absolute capability by pitting him against an individual who had transformed Infinity itself into a meticulously managed extension of his being.

The third individual was a woman possessing a small frame and eyes that darted about incessantly.

She scrutinized every presence, every atmospheric ripple, and every minute alteration in the positioning of the Gilded Ones surrounding them, demonstrating the precision of someone conducting a continuous threat assessment. Her gaze conveyed a deep suspicion towards everything within the space, the kind of comprehensive mistrust earned by instincts that had frequently proven correct, thus commanding absolute confidence.

Her eyes then fixed directly on Achilles.

A flicker of undeniable relief ignited within them.

A voice resonated directly within his mind the very next moment, bypassing his auditory senses completely.

"Finally, someone else whose senses scream that we're walking into a death trap."

The voice carried a vibrancy far exceeding the mere words, its energy compacting into the mental transmission with the eagerness of someone who had been anticipating this specific connection.

"Hey. Can you hear me? Hello! Do you want to screw these kidnappers over? Before they mess with us, I want to mess with them! They think they can snatch me and threaten my family into helping them? Hah! Screw them!"

A pause, filled with what felt like genuine evaluation, followed.

"Hey! You can hear me, right? Respond, because I know you're thinking exactly as I am. My power has confirmed this. It's also revealed a plan, a potential strategy that might allow us to escape this alive. Are you with me?"

Another pause ensued.

"I'm Taylor, by the way. Taylor of The Light!"

...!

A remarkably vibrant voice echoed in his mind, charged with the energy of someone who had evidently been seeking an ally since their arrival and was profoundly relieved that the search had concluded. Achilles maintained a neutral expression.

Internally, however, Achilles's interest in Taylor of The Light was considerably more intense than his outward appearance suggested!