Chương 41: The Horror - 1

With his son back at the academy, safely studying, and Frank tied down in diplomacy, WARHOL had a choice to make — he could either return to the Oldest Complex and continue his human-battery charger act OR he could check on the status of the Horror from Beyond. He chose the latter; he thought the world of the world-spanning complex, but he also didn't like behaving as a glorified battery charger.

It was all for naught anyway; with the immense resources Frank had negotiated for, more personnel by the day entered the complex, people who had access to the latest in charging technology. The Complex, then, would be fine without his constant probing. It might be alluring diving deeper into the complex, sure, since when wasn't discovering new and ever more complex runic puzzles or fighting strong enemies not fun? But there was more to him than probing the complex.

That 'more' involved the monitoring of the 'Horror' which, even now, was hurtling toward the planet. While said Horror remained far away for now, it wouldn't always be, and as such, the job of monitoring its approach to the planet fell to him as no other planet side entity had the capabilities to travel the immense distances required to keep tabs on it. He opened a portal using his [Interdimensional Transportation] incantation, but before he stepped through it, he had some alterations to make to it.

Because the distance he was leaping was far beyond a standard [Teleport] spell, he had to take certain precautions. He next outfitted the already opened portal with a [Hold Air] incantation glyph, as well as a [Clear Vision: Cosmic Vision] addition; on top of such incantation additionals, he added [Reinforce: Skin Armor] as well as [Indomitable] — the vacuum of space was no joking matter!

Finally, before he stepped through, he added a final mana charge to the portal itself; that charge would enable to portal to reach the final outpost at the edge of the solar system. He watched his mana drop faster than ever as he charged the portal. Truly, if he was anyone else, he would be concerned about how fast it dropped. And frankly, despite him not being 'anyone else,' he was actually, if he was telling the truth, just a little concerned with how much mana he lost super-charging the portal.

[-50, 000, 000 Mana Subtracted], that was the exact amount of lost mana his System informed him of. That mana would restore itself fast, well enough in time for his return trip, but goodness, its drain always left him with a touch of apprehension. Oh well. One can't go and confront Cosmic Horrors without a little bit of fear in you, right? One final, quick incantation before he walked through the portal: [Translate: All]. Warhol took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

Instantaneously, he was within a new location. Sleek, gray metal replaced the open sky of the fields outside Headquarters. A pane of reinforced, transparent glass-plastic that spanned the entire breadth of the chamber, allowed for an undisrupted 360-degree view outside, where twinkling stars and nebulas, called for adventure.

Near the ceiling, a green light turned on, and a voice from above, which Warhol learned long ago was called an 'intercom,' called out: "Trans-dimensional Visitor Detected," and repeated several times. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. In the room's center stood an elevator leading down into the observation platform. Those doors now opened and dislodged men armed with advanced guns and body armor.

At their center was a man without a helmet, though to call him a 'man' would be inaccurate since he was none other than an alien. That 'man' was named Signet. He was of the Neons, a race of space-faring scientists who traveled the cosmos in search of legendary and mythical entities, planets, and phenomena. Signet spoke and encouraged his men to lower their guns.

"I thought it would be you. I mean, who else would it be?" Warhol chuckled.

"Who else indeed? You would have to tell me that, friend." Signet smiled.

"So, I would; your planet still is mired in competitive primitiveness, is it not?"

"Unfortunately, so," he sighed.

"We're getting there, though. More and more places are advancing into more complex, equitable — relatively speaking — geopolitics. Parliaments exist, now!"

"Parliaments! What an incredible development!" Signe joked.

"Your world will be a Type Four Civilization in no time!"

"Yes, well... in the meantime, I was hoping you could give me an update on the Horror? You know, just to pass the time." Signet waved his men away.

"Of course. Come over to the observation edge." Warhol was brought over to a high-powered telescope. He looked through it and saw the same seething, black mass he had seen the last time he was here.

"It looks healthy."

"Hmmm, it is healthy. The horror continues to push us to the brink. We've bombarded it with all manner of anti-matter bombs, but it remains unphased. then we tried neutron torpedoes, but it hardly affected the beast." Signet explained.

"It lives up to the stories well." He took himself away from the telescope.

"Have you given any thought to my suggestion?"

"That we convert to your Pantheon?" Signet chuckled, this time derisively.

"I did bring the issue up with the council and was nearly stripped of my post. I do not care for your idea myself, Warhol, but I will not go out on a limb for you again. If you so believe in the power of this Pantheon, you must prove to me the pragmatics of it in our fight against this creature." A wave of his hands in front of him told Signet he meant no harm.

"It is only a suggestion. That's all. Our Gods exist. You might think them parasites, but they grant us immense power in return for our cooperation, both material and spiritual. You only need ask."

"That is what anyone infected by a parasite would say, Warhol. I respect your freedom to submit yourself to a symbiotic relationship, that is fine, as any man of science understands the vital role parasites — normal parasites — play in an ecosystem. These 'Celestial' ones, though, is a harder sell. One I am tired of debating with you until you bring me firm evidence of your 'gods' usefulness..." Signet bore into his eyes with the fury of someone scorned. Warhol burped.

"Apologies. I had fish for lunch." Signet cleared the air and moaned. He took a few paces toward a different part of the windowpane and waved him over.

"In that sector, we've had particular trouble. The Horror is advancing at a prodigious rate. We've had to evacuate the research planet Gentle Green Nine."

"That's not what either of us wanted to hear," Warhol looked blankly toward the window. He could see the planet only as an earthy-colored dot from their vantage, but he had visited the world before and so knew of its beauty.

"Do you have any good news for me?" he asked the alien. Antennae upon Signet's head twitched, their version of a shrug.

"Depends on what you call 'good news.' Maybe, though? Over here." Signet brought him to another part of the viewing pane.

"In a sector overtaken by the Horror already, we've detected unusual energy signatures."

"Unusual signatures?" he asked.

"How unusual?" Signet grinned.

"Signatures which match your Pantheon..."