novelraw Chapter 309 The Price of Influence
Chapter 309 The Price of Influence
Mikhailis chuckled. "Oh? Is that a compliment?"
He smirked but didn't push further. The truth was, Rodion was right. He wasn't looking to amass a cult of mindless thralls; he just needed tools—tools that could be used and discarded as necessary. And now that they understood how Hypnoveil's evolution functioned, they had to be extremely careful with deployment.
His mind was already racing through potential countermeasures. Stronger-willed individuals would resist over time, which meant that a high-ranking enemy with strong mental discipline could break free, or worse—identify the parasite and seek ways to counter it. He'd need contingencies.
But before he could dwell too much on that, Rodion's voice cut through his thoughts.
Mikhailis exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. "The big guy, huh?" His fingers tapped idly against the wooden table. "Alright, hit me."
That made Mikhailis frown slightly. He had suspected as much, having watched glimpses of the battlefield footage through the Chimera Ants' surveillance. The way the Technomancer forces moved under his presence had been unnatural—too rigid, too obedient, as if shackled by something unseen.
"Go on."
Mikhailis narrowed his eyes. "A psychological aura?"
Mikhailis considered that for a moment. If the Enforcer had a power that actively weakened the will of those around him, it would explain why the Technomancers had remained so organized despite their fractured chain of command. No ordinary commander could maintain that level of control amidst chaos.
He drummed his fingers against the desk. "So, we're talking about something that isn't just fear—it's willpower suppression."
Mikhailis let out a low whistle. "That's dangerous as hell. Someone who doesn't need to fight because their opponents just… stop trying?" He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, no thanks."
That caught Mikhailis's attention more than anything else.
He had seen blind loyalty before. He had fought fanatics, cultists, and soldiers who were too devoted to their cause to see reason. But this sounded different.
"You're saying it's not just fear of him, it's something deeper?"
Mikhailis clicked his tongue. "A mind-control effect, but subtle. They don't realize they're being manipulated."
Mikhailis leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. "That's not a battlefield commander. That's a damn warlord."
He sighed. "Alright. What's the counterplay?"
Mikhailis smirked. "Don't worry, I have no plans to throw myself at an overpowered enemy just yet." He stretched his arms, shaking his head. "We'll keep our distance."
Mikhailis sat up straighter. His usual playful demeanor faded just slightly, his eyes sharpening. "The scout's report?"
Mikhailis's grin widened. "So, we turned them into their own worst enemies. Beautiful."
Mikhailis's grin faded slightly. He had anticipated this conclusion but hearing it confirmed made it more real, more pressing. "What did we find?"
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the worn wooden desk of his rented room. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the space. His mind was already fitting the puzzle pieces together, but he wanted to hear it in full.
Rodion didn't hesitate.
Mikhailis exhaled slowly, his fingers steepling. "So, they're the ones behind the poisoned lands?"
Mikhailis narrowed his eyes. That aligned with what he had observed. The mist hadn't spread in chaotic waves or irregular patches like natural blight would. Instead, it hovered with a strange precision, dense in certain locations but lighter in others. Someone was controlling it.
"If the mist persists, Serewyn and its surrounding territories will remain dependent on the Technomancers for survival," he murmured, thinking out loud.
Mikhailis leaned back, rubbing his chin. His eyes darkened. "They're ensuring that only they hold the cure."
Mikhailis scoffed. "Clever bastards. So, they're starving the people just enough to keep them weak and reliant, but not enough to make them desperate enough to rise up."
Mikhailis clicked his tongue. "They're playing the long game."
Mikhailis shut his eyes for a moment, processing. He had suspected the Technomancers were involved in the mist's spread, but he hadn't expected it to be this methodical. He had assumed it was a defensive measure, a deterrent against invasion. But no—this was something worse.
This was control.
His fingers tapped against the desk rhythmically. "Then that means… if we were to remove the mist, we wouldn't just be helping the people—we'd be cutting the Technomancers off at the knees."
Mikhailis smirked. "Then we find out, don't we?"
Rodion hesitated for a fraction of a second—something that, despite being an AI, he sometimes did when anticipating Mikhailis's reckless tendencies.
<...Proceeding without full data on the mist's mechanisms is inadvisable. If we fail to account for its origins, any disruption could result in unforeseen consequences.>
Mikhailis chuckled, though there was no humor in his voice this time. "We don't have to remove it just yet. We just need to make them think we can."
"Exactly. If they believe someone is close to unraveling their game, they'll scramble to protect their secrets. And when people scramble, they make mistakes."
Mikhailis's smirk grew. "Oh, I'm counting on that."
The revelation settled in the air, heavy with the weight of consequence. The game had just shifted, and Mikhailis was already planning his next move.