{Chapter: 123: Heart of Jarnser II}
The Next Day – Jarnser Psychic Council Headquarters, Core Assembly Hall
The following morning, the central chamber of the Jarnser Psychic Council buzzed with tension. With the commander's urgent briefing freshly delivered, the vast auditorium was divided. Holograms of key representatives flickered to life in the circular chamber, projecting flickering blues and greens across the crystalline floor. Debate erupted almost immediately.
Dozens of council members, cloaked in the ceremonial silver and indigo robes of their rank, began voicing their opinions. Some stood, their hands raised in impassioned gestures, while others invoked visual memories and psychic projections of past conflicts to support their stance. The issue at hand was not a trivial one—it was the decision to activate one of Jarnser's most sacred and dangerous trump cards: the Heart of Jarnser.
"We have waited ten years for an opportunity like this," barked Councilor Delren, a stern old psychic general whose scars bore witness to countless psychic wars. "The intelligence is sufficient! Our spies have risked everything to confirm the commander's location. We have no reason to delay. The Heart of Jarnser was built for this very moment."
Others were more cautious.
"We do not yet know the true extent of the enemy's commander's power," countered a younger member, Councilor Liraen, her violet eyes flaring with restrained emotion. "The Wizarding Civilization operates under a pure cultivation model. Their highest-level commanders are often cloaked in illusion, shrouded by spells older than our written history. We risk exposing our most precious psychic weapon to forces we cannot fully measure."
A psychic whisper swept through the chamber—a shared mental wave of doubt, reverberating from one mind to another. Some nodded silently; others folded their arms in resistance.
At the front of the chamber, seated in the elevated first row, were three figures of unmatched influence—the Supreme Triumvirate of Jarnser. These three elder psychics rarely intervened directly in day-to-day policy decisions, but the activation of a weapon like the Heart demanded their authority.
The central figure, an ancient seer with translucent skin and silver veins of light pulsing through his face, raised a hand for silence. The entire room stilled at once.
"There may be a third way," he said, his voice smooth and slow, laced with psychic overtones that echoed slightly in the minds of all present. "Is there any method—any at all—that could compel the enemy commander to act? Something that might reveal his spiritual strength or magical domain without directly risking the Heart?"
The military commander of Jarnser, standing alone on the central platform, hesitated. His blue and grey uniform shimmered under the overhead lights, and data sigils hovered in the air around him like orbiting thoughts.
He bowed slightly. "With respect, Supreme One… It is difficult. The Wizarding Civilization is rooted in a decentralized hierarchy of magically enhanced beings. Their commanders are not just warriors—they are living archives, mobile sanctums, and arcane nexuses unto themselves. Forcing them to act without major provocation is… unlikely."
The Triumvirate exchanged slow glances, their thoughts linking wordlessly. They were three minds often said to share a single spirit.
"Then," said the rightmost elder, a woman with no eyes and a face carved from obsidian crystal, "there is nothing more to debate."
The central figure nodded gravely. "Let us proceed to vote. Let the will of the majority prevail."
A psychic chime rang out as the voting began. Members of the council focused their thoughts, casting mental votes via the synaptic lattice that unified the chamber. The air shimmered with the resonance of powerful wills asserting themselves.
Seconds later, the final result manifested in the center of the chamber: 80.7% in favor of deploying the Heart of Jarnser.
A heavy silence followed. Even those who had supported the decision now seemed to feel the weight of what had just been authorized.
Standing once again on the central platform, the commander of Jarnser felt a mixture of relief and unease settle in his chest like cold iron.
"Yes… I have the permission I need," he murmured under his breath. But in the privacy of his thoughts, another question surfaced: Have we just overplayed our hand?
He looked at the glowing device suspended behind a shield of mirrored psychic wards—the Heart of Jarnser. It pulsed with an otherworldly rhythm, like a vast, invisible mind breathing in perfect harmony with itself.
---
Moments Later – Activation Site, Command Room Alpha
The room darkened. Psychic dampeners fell into place, sealing the environment from outside interference. Onlookers held their breath, while psychic operators formed a protective circle around the Heart.
With a gesture, the commander laid his hand on the activation crystal. The air trembled.
An indescribable pulse surged through the chamber. Not light, nor sound—something deeper. A vibration in the realm of thought itself.
The Heart of Jarnser activated.
It was more than just a weapon. It was the condensed ideological soul of the Jarnser people—trillions of minds, each contributing a single fragment of belief, memory, or emotion. Gathered over Gigaannum of psychic development, honed into a singular vector of pure indoctrination.
This was not merely a wave of energy—it was an invasion of soul and the very thought.
The Heart surged across space, faster than light, threading its way through hyperspace channels until it struck Alsop Star, the huge tower suspected to house the enemy commander. There was no explosion, no beam of light. Just an invisible tide of memory, emotion, and philosophy crashing down like a silent tsunami.
To be struck by it was to be immersed in the Jarnser way of life—to experience their dreams, their beliefs, their unity, their history. It was the most seductive weapon ever created, one that offered not pain, but belonging.
---
Sixty Seconds Later – Total Silence
And then—nothing.
No counterattack.
No reports.
No indication of success.
Just silence.
And then the silence broke.
Alarms flared. Lights flashed. New data flooded in.
Across the warzone, dozens of Alsop Star linked and bases suddenly turned hostile. They unleashed devastating magical storms upon the Alsop Star. It was not the Jarnser forces that responded—it was the Wizarding World itself, rejecting the psychic intrusion like a body rejecting a foreign virus.
"Multiple star platforms have opened fire on Alsop Star - 671!" cried a tactical officer.
On the central screen, beams of light brighter than any star lanced down onto the Alsop Star's surface. Storms of anti-thought anti soul energy erupted across the atmosphere, countering the psychic infection.
Dozens of seconds later, accompanied by an inexplicable silence, dozens of the surrounding [Alsop Stars] suddenly launched an attack on it at the same time.
The commander watched, face pale.
"…It's exposed," he whispered.
His worst fear had come to pass.
Not only had the commander of the Wizarding Civilization survived the Heart of Jarnser, but they had anticipated the assault—and sprung a trap.
The screen crackled as more data streamed in.
"No response from our mental probe. Psychic feedback levels have flatlined. The Heart has worked?"
The commander clenched his fists.
"…I wonder if the enemy commander is still alive…"
He stared at the screen, haunted. A silent, horrifying thought bloomed in his mind:
*****
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