Marvel's Shendu: Dominating the Multiverse

Chapter 154 Tokens of Surrender

The council meeting room is located in the core layer of Olympia. It has a circular structure with fourteen seats around a round table. The tabletop is made of celestial gold, which usually projects holographic images of the agenda, but no one turned on that function tonight.

"So we are really discussing this." Ginger placed his hands on the table and tapped his fingers twice: "Swearing allegiance to an outsider."

"Do you have a better solution?" Fastos asked without looking up, his hands still running the preprocessing program for the low-level scan.

Jing did not answer.

Selcy sat next to him, the light sweeping across everyone's faces at the round table, silently counting them in his mind.

Of the fourteen Eternals, excluding Sprite who was no longer present, thirteen remained. Gilgamesh was absent; he sat at the end of the corridor, saying he didn't want to participate in the vote and would follow whoever won. This sounded like indifference, but Celsi knew that Gilgamesh was simply not good at taking sides in meetings; he was more adept at deciding his stance after a fight.

Therefore, only twelve people actually participated in the discussion.

Druid leaned back in his chair, his legs propped up on the table, and hadn't moved since half an hour ago.

"I'll state a fact, and you shouldn't rush to refute it," Druid said lazily, but everyone present perked up their ears. He always spoke in this tone, especially when it was important: "He could have killed us all today, but he didn't."

He didn't even really lift a finger; he just stood there and suppressed all of our energy levels to below 30%.

"That's not a reason," Jingle said.

"That's not a reason, but it's a premise." Druid put his legs off the table and leaned forward slightly. "Under this premise, if we're going to discuss resistance, you have to tell me first, what will we use to resist?"

No one responded.

This is the crux of the problem. The entire debate has lasted three hours, and they've been stuck on this intractable knot—they don't have enough power. Not just a little bit, but far too little. Even Icarus's full-power cosmic ray output couldn't make the opponent back a single step. Everyone here has already processed this information; it's enough to make your stomach ache.

"I have something else to say," Cerci began.

Everyone looked at her.

"Did you notice the order in which he presented his conditions?" Celcy said. "He first pointed out the engine's flaws, then proposed a repair plan, and only lastly talked about loyalty. If he just wanted to control us, he could have just stated his conditions directly. Why did he start with the technology?"

"Because he needs Olympia's engines to be running properly," Fastos interjected, his hands still on the equipment, but his voice became serious. "He showed me a section of the Celestials' underlying code's architectural logic. That thing—a level I've studied for thousands of years and still haven't grasped—he just casually pointed it out. He wasn't showing off; he genuinely wanted to plug this hole."

"So?" Jingle asked.

"So what he wants isn't slaves, but pawns," Celsi said. "Useful pawns. He won't waste resources destroying something that still has value."

Jingle stared at Selcy for a moment: "What you're saying sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."

Cerci did not deny it.

Sersi stood up and walked to the window. The artificial dome of Olympia shone with starlight, which fell on her shoulders.

She stopped talking.

Makari tapped the table and made a series of gestures in sign language. Icarus translated, "She said let's vote; if we keep arguing, we won't get to a conclusion even by dawn."

"I second that," Fastos said, closing the device as his preprocessing completed its first run.

Jingle opened his mouth as if to say something, but Celsey walked back and sat down next to him. She didn't pull his wrist or shake her head; she simply sat down beside him.

The voting was conducted in the oldest way possible—each person placed their hand on the table, and the celestial council would read their choices. There were no raised hands, no roll calls, and it was all anonymous. This was a rule established thousands of years ago, whereby the elders voted anonymously on matters of survival to avoid any subsequent repercussions.

The results came out very quickly.

Seven to five.

by.

No one asked whose two abstention votes they were. Jingle stood up from his chair a little more forcefully than usual, brushing against the corner of the table, but he didn't turn around to look.

"Who's going?" Druid asked a very practical question.

The council of elders passed a resolution, but someone had to represent the entire Eternal Clan to carry it out.

Silence. Everyone knew that this was tantamount to kneeling before the Holy Lord.

Icarus stood up: "I'll go."

Jingle turned to look at him, and everyone present turned to look at him. Icarus had been the one with the strongest will to resist among the twelve people present.

"Are you sure?" Cerci asked.

Icarus nodded.

Fastos took something out of a hidden compartment under the table.

Source Crystal.

A fist-sized polyhedron, its surface shimmering with a spectrum resonating with the energy circuits of the Eternals. This thing isn't just an ornament; it's the physical anchor of the Olympia authority system, a key embedded by the Celestials when they created them. Strictly speaking, its function is more symbolic than practical; true control resides at the code level—a fact everyone here understands.

Icarus took the Source Crystal, held it in his hand, turned and walked out of the conference hall. This was their token of surrender.

The Holy Lord resides in a laboratory vacated by Faustos in the central region of Olympia.

Wanda stood at the lab door, leaning against the doorframe with her hands clasped together in a relaxed posture, but her gaze fell precisely on Icarus as he approached.

"Looking for the owner?" Wanda asked.

"Yes."

Wanda stepped aside, making way for the doorway, and turned back to say into the lab, "Master, someone's here."

.

The laboratory door opened.

The Holy Lord stood beside the holographic projection, which displayed a code structure that Icarus couldn't understand, with nested golden characters floating in the air. The Holy Lord didn't turn it off; he merely tilted his head slightly.

"Come in."

Icarus went inside.

The laboratory was large, but after these two people stood inside, the space felt smaller. It wasn't oppressive; the density had changed. Icarus could feel 30% of his restored cosmic rays flowing through the circuit, while the person standing opposite him showed no energy fluctuations.

The less you can sense it, the more uneasy you feel. Truly terrifying things never actively emit any aura.

"The Elders' Council's resolution has been passed," Icarus said.

The Holy Lord looked at him, waiting for what would follow.

Icarus took the Source Crystal from his hand and knelt down on one knee: "The Eternals offer you the Source Crystal and acknowledge your rule."

The Holy Lord glanced down at the Eternal Warrior kneeling on the ground, then at the polyhedron.

The Holy Lord reached out and took the Source Crystal, weighed it in his hand, and then crushed it.

Icarus looked up, a look of unease on his face.

He had a premonition of this outcome; the Holy Lord didn't need a token, but seeing it confirmed still sent a chill down his spine.