Chapter 143: # - : The Ownerless Reservoir
Chapter 143: # Chapter: The Ownerless Reservoir
The fate reservoir had just lost its owner.Amon felt the change immediately.
The vast accumulation beneath the palace shifted.
Not physically.
Its structure changed.
For nearly five centuries, every fragment of harvested fate had belonged to Vaelor through the tribute pact.
Now that ownership was gone.
The reservoir had become unclaimed.
And unclaimed power never remained unclaimed for long.
The system reacted.
[Warning.]
[Massive ownerless fate reserve detected.]
[Multiple external claims forming.]
Amon’s eyes narrowed.
"How many?"
[Seven.]
The answer came instantly.
That was worse than expected.
The remaining vessels around the chamber convulsed.
Vaelor’s presence had disappeared from them.
The golden-eyed vessel remained upright.
The Black Architect stared toward the floor.
His expression was no longer calm.
"You idiot."
Amon looked at him.
"Choose your next words carefully."
The Architect ignored the warning.
"You severed ownership without establishing a replacement."
"I noticed."
"You have no idea what you just exposed."
Amon glanced toward the King.
He was still on one knee, breathing heavily.
The compulsion was gone.
But whatever Vaelor’s command had done to his bloodline had left him weak.
Theron helped him stand.
Amon focused downward.
With Fate Authority 6, his perception had changed significantly.
The reservoir was no longer a vague ocean of compressed possibility.
He could feel individual currents moving inside it.
Some ancient.
Some recent.
Some tied to people who had died centuries ago.
Some carrying faint traces of lives still being lived above.
Then new presences touched the edges.
One from the prison.
Another from somewhere beyond the western wall.
Two from directions he could not even comprehend.
Three more came through old contract routes buried inside the kingdom.
The seventh...
Amon froze.
The seventh came from inside the capital.
Danger Sense reacted.
Hard.
He looked upward.
The Architect noticed.
"You felt it."
Amon stared at him.
"Who’s claiming from the city?"
The golden-eyed vessel remained silent.
Amon stepped forward.
Azrael rose.
"Answer."
The Architect smiled faintly.
"The Black Architect."
Amon’s expression hardened.
"You’re saying that’s you."
"No."
The vessel’s smile disappeared.
"I inherited the title."
Silence.
Amon’s eyes narrowed.
Theron looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
The Architect continued.
"The original architect died centuries ago."
Amon’s gaze sharpened.
"The system said the contract party was active."
"Because the title is the party."
That was possible.
A role rather than a person.
The contract had bound authority to an office.
Amon understood immediately.
"You carry it now."
"Part of it."
The Architect looked toward the floor.
"And so does someone else."
The seventh claimant.
Amon turned.
"Who?"
The golden eyes dimmed slightly.
"The Keeper of the First Foundation."
Theron’s face changed.
Amon noticed.
"You know that title."
The formation master swallowed.
"It’s ceremonial."
"Apparently not."
Theron looked toward the King.
His Majesty’s expression had gone pale.
Amon looked between them.
"Explain."
The King answered.
"The Keeper of the First Foundation is one of the oldest offices in the royal court."