Damon's Ascension-Chapter 131: The Great Reshuffle Of Humanity 1

Around 20 days later, the Planetary Embassy for the human race was finally constructed, with Damon’s avatar stationed on Earth overlooking the entire project. The project was initially estimated to take 30 days or more, but Damon removed some parts that he felt were redundant and alien in design.

Now that the embassy was done, it meant that the office of the Prime Representative had a physical location, first of all, and second of all, he had an administrative center in which to actually effect his powers.

So far, he’s had to use TV and radio stations and a mixture of his VQD to make announcements or decrees for the human race. Now that was no longer necessary, as the planetary embassy had a mental broadcast device which could connect to the entire human race.

Also, the planetary embassy was located on the planet, which was off-limits to alien species, so the ability hiring, galactic livestreaming, and various foreign businesses could not yet arrive on Earth until the traveling space station was erected.

Even if the orbital embassy was built, that was only a sort of customs checkpoint to check humans going off the planet as well as goods coming in. The traveling space station is where the other aspects of the galaxy can officially enter human society.

The planetary embassy was solely for humans to solve planet-side issues relating to geopolitics, economy, and social issues relating to their integration into the IUAS and their continued living.

So the day it was completed, Damon naturally sent out his first official mental broadcast.

The mental broadcast device at the heart of the Embassy connected to every single human with an activated character panel.

It didn’t matter whether you were inside a jungle hut, driving a car, or standing on an oil platform in the Atlantic. If you had stepped into the AR World of Essence even once, you heard it—not through your ears, but through your mind.

And then, there was a voice.

It was calm, yet firm... young, but seemingly wise.

"This is Damon Arnan, Prime Representative of the Human Race. I greet you all." Damon appeared in the minds of everyone with a smile, wearing a typical neat tuxedo that was prim.

Coupled with his neatly cut hair and clean-shaved face, he did look formal and presidential, like a qualified young leader.

"It has been three months since the rise of the IUAS thrust our species into this new era. A time when skills and strength replaced pedigree and paper. A time when children from slums could rival billionaires, when scholars stood equal to soldiers, when destiny could be rewritten by sheer hard work. I do not need to remind you of how profound this change was, we lived it."

Damon started by acknowledging the overt changes brought about by the Universe Will in granting everyone ’powers’ through the character panel and Damon’s own part to play in forcing everyone to enter with their real bodies.

"But let me remind you of the second milestone, which was the true test of our worth." His eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Some of you may not know this, but our existence as free citizens in the galactic system was never guaranteed. The first hundred of us who were awakened with abilities above and beyond the A rank were flagged, immediately and not very quietly." Damon revealed as he smiled thinly.

"We were studied, evaluated and, yes, priced. The galaxy and its corporations saw in us not allies... but commodities, basically as living weapons, laborers with spark and hopefully, potential property." He added with a shake of his head.

A faint pressure touched the minds of the listeners, even more so to those who knew and did their research than those who were still - surprisingly - ignorant.

"They attempted to buy us, lease us even. The idea was to chain us through contracts laced with gifts and buried terms and capitalize on our ignorance. They tried to turn our miracle of existence into their next business model through heavy exploitation."

Damon raised a finger with a smile. "But they failed."

Then he pointed that finger at himself. "They failed because I said no. Because I fought politically, diplomatically, and if needed, physically. I dragged their greedily smiling envoys into legal debates while I used every ounce of authority granted to a Prime Representative and doubled it with pressure they didn’t see coming. I made it impossible to own a human and illegal to suppress us."

Damon then turned the finger and pointed it at the ’camera’. "That is why you are free."

He sighed dramatically and shook his head. "But that freedom is now at risk again, and not from others, but from within. Our current limitation in Worldly Essence gain and leveling is becoming a death sentence as I explained previously."

"While other races climb swiftly, gain power, and grow toward Chaos Realm-readiness, we will remain stunted because our internal biology is flawed. Our progress will plateau and unless we fix this now, we will be outpaced, outbid, and outmaneuvered."

There was a pause, just long enough to let that settle.

Damon smiled reassuringly. "So I’ve acted again."

"I have formed a vanguard of humanity’s most powerful awakened and together, we have journeyed towards the Chaos Realm. There, we aim to locate the Primordial Lake, a legendary source that may reconstruct our flawed Worldly Essence pathway and correct what nature left incomplete in our species."

Hearing this, many felt their hearts lift with hope, and Damon spread his arms out in acquiescence.

"We do this not for power, nor for pride, but for survival. For all of you who cannot break your limits no matter how much you fight, who spend days grinding and come back with nothing, we go for you."

However, the tone suddenly shifted as Damon’s smile disappeared and became slightly more formal and operational, making viewers feel uncomfortable and alienated.

"Now, let’s talk about Earth," Damon said in a placid tone.

"With this broadcast, the Planetary Embassy is now operational. It is the only sovereign seat of humanity recognized across the galactic system. From here on, all planetary issues—be it geopolitical disputes, economic instability, or social restructuring—will pass through this institution. We are no longer just citizens of countries, we are citizens of Earth." Damon said slowly, letting his words sink for certain ’powers’ out there.

Then he spoke to the people. "Our nations will not disappear, nor will our cultures be erased. However, our old divisions cannot lead us in a new world where spaceships dock in lunar orbit and the Essence Coin determines currency."

He took a relaxing breath, which made viewers also feel slightly relaxed after the tension, then delivered the closing.

"As such, I formally invite all current world leaders—presidents, prime ministers, monarchs, and governing councils—to attend a planetary summit at this Embassy within the next seven days. This summit will not be ceremonial, it will be decisive. We will address Earth’s economic strategy, political integration into the galactic framework, and the preservation of human identity amid galactic pressure." Damon said next with a thin smile.

He folded his arms behind his back, his voice surprisingly amused at this point. "Attend in person, or through a virtual avatar, it does not matter for any but yourself. However, it is imperative that you attend, for your own sakes and the sake of your thinly held power. The future of humanity as well as the world is waiting, and it definitely won’t wait long."

Damon’s voice faded as the mental broadcast came to an end and the world was left to digest his explosive words.

The main ones troubled and incensed by this were two factions. The first were the overt political leaders and ministers, and the second were the shadow rulers and clans who manipulated nations since the end of the Second World War.

For example, let us cut to the scene within the well-known White House and see how the world’s ’number one’ political leader was reacting.

Unsurprisingly, the Oval Office was silent and not in an awkward way, but rather in an oppressive manner. The kind of silent oppression that hung in the air when a country’s throne was publicly tested and - perhaps - quietly cracked.

The curtains were drawn tight and the room’s warm lighting cast shadows across the pale oak desk, where President Graham L. Rourke sat unmoving, fingers steepled, his gaze fixed forward.

He wasn’t looking at the air in the center of the room anymore in a daze as Damon’s mental image had vanished minutes ago, but rather at a distant future, one he did not like.

A sharp tone broke the stillness as one of the three large holographic panels behind him blinked to life.

"Secretary Langston, connected."

Then another.

"Joint Chief Wessler, online."

And finally, the last.

"Director Sinclair, secure channel confirmed."

President Rourke exhaled once, not heavily and definitely not dramatically... but rather just one of aged fatigue.

He was a man in his late forties with silver-streaked hair, dark brown skin, and deep-set eyes that always gave the impression he was half-listening and half-analyzing. His suits were custom-tailored and his tone, famously unreadable.

"Play the mental transmission again," He said flatly.

The AI system obeyed. In seconds, Damon’s mental broadcast replayed, though none of them heard it as the general public had. This version was stripped of the emotional undertones and tailored for high-clearance analytical review.

They listened in silence once more.

When it ended, the room remained quiet until Secretary of Defense Langston scoffed from the left panel.

"This kid thinks he can unilaterally rewrite the global order?" freewebnøvel.com

Rourke didn’t respond as his fingers remained steepled.

"He’s not wrong about the Worldly Essence problem, our combat projections show extreme stagnation past Level 15. Our own agents are already being overtaken by other lower-ranked species in the galactic net’s virtual worlds," Joint Chief Wessler added, being a grizzled man with human-made cybernetic eyes that glowed faintly in the dark.

"True, but declaring the Planetary Embassy as sovereign authority over Earth? That’s not a solution, that’s a coup in formal wear," Langston admitted, albeit begrudgingly.

"No, it’s worse. It’s a precedent," President Rourke said at last, his voice as still as his posture.

Director Sinclair, the head of their Shadow Operations Division, spoke next, his face always obscured behind a redacted blur. "He’s changed the battlefield. We were preparing for jurisdictional negotiations with the IUAS over interstellar policy. Now... we’ll be negotiating with him."

Langston leaned forward, bristling. "He has no legislative backing, no military alliance, nor any council recognition among the Security Six. All he has is raw power, bravado, and some childish messiah complex."

"And yet, that bravado is all the galaxy seems to care about now," Rourke murmured.

There was silence again, but it crackled with tension.

"Let’s be clear, we are not dismissing ’Prime Representative’ as that would be foolish. His position is legitimate, and his power—if our last report is accurate—is enough to flatten a small town. But the man himself?" Rourke continued.

He leaned back slowly in his chair, voice cooling to arctic levels.

"He’s a youth with a cause. He’ll definitely make waves, maybe even reshape a few laws. But power... real power... is not gained in speeches. It’s held in silence, in institutions and in systems, and none of that changes because a lucky boy built a building and started talking like a monarch."

Wessler nodded slowly. "Then we treat the position with respect, but we keep our eyes on the boy."

"Correct, we will attend his summit. We will smile, shake hands and maybe even agree to a few harmless concessions," Rourke affirmed.

Langston arched a brow. "And afterward?"

Rourke’s lips curled ever so slightly.

"We do what we’ve always done by adapting and watching. And when he falters—because he will—we’ll make sure the institutions waiting underneath are our own."

Director Sinclair’s blurred face tilted. "You want infiltration?"

"No, not yet. We play the long game," Rourke shook his head.

His voice was placid. "Right now, we treat this summit like a show of unity. Let the world applaud and allow the people to cheer. Meanwhile, we ensure that the real Earth—its banks, its nukes, its data—remains exactly where it’s always been."

His hands finally unclasped, fingers spreading over the desk like a general surveying a map.

"And above all else... we remind him."

"Remind him of what?" Langston asked.

"That no matter how loud you shout, you are only Prime Representative until the people no longer believe in your future," Rourke said coldly.

He stood, gaze sharp as steel.

"Let’s make sure they remember who built the present world."