Typemoon: My IQ is Over 9000 Chapter 20 20: Humanity's Observation—the Watcher Evaluates

When the pillar of light piercing heaven and earth vanished at last, and the soul-shearing storm of magic faded, Steve exhaled deeply.

All that tension and anticipation—now, at last, relief. It worked. This seemingly-mad gamble, sacrificing the technical marvels of the entire Federation, had succeeded. It was not just the ritual's success, but the consummate affirmation of everything he'd prepared over the last thirty years.

He had led mankind to the stars, freed them from the planet's direct grasp. This had weakened Gaia's restraint, and allowed the collective unconscious—Alaya—to manifest in force.

Otherwise, so far from any leyline, nothing could have been summoned in this frozen void. Thirty years, not wasted.

So Steve's eyes now fixed on the figure before him: Watcher.

This being was like a perfect black hole. It neither breathed nor displayed emotion—it simply existed, as if it always had, since before the dawn of ti.

All around, the magi of the MythosOps were slowly getting to their feet, faces pale, staring at Watcher with awe and dread—the way mortals beheld gods. "Heresy…" "Unprecedented…" "Artificial deity…" muttered trembling lips.

Steve ignored the turmoil and stepped forward, bandaged hand still bleeding. He was now filled with curiosity to understand what sort of "miracle" he had brought forth.

"Watcher," he intoned, his voice echoing in the chamber, full of commander's authority. "State your abilities. What, exactly, is your function as an Observer?"

"I obey, Master."

Watcher's silver mask turned toward him, as though sightless eyes peered straight into Steve's soul.

"My function is to acquire, process, and record information about specified phenona. My skill 'Observer' allows to sense the flows of intelligence directly.

"This includes, but is not limited to, electromagnetic signals, etheric communications, fluctuations in magical networks, subtle deviations in causality, and even the weak spiritual emissions generated by thinking beings.

"In my senses, nothing is hidden."

Steve's heart trembled. This wasn't re clairvoyance—it was a taphysical cognition at a higher dinsion. Watcher was not seeing with eyes, but directly reading information itself.

A perfect intelligence asset, immune to deception.

Steve pressed on, understanding the contradiction: "Your stats for strength, endurance, and agility are all E—the lowest. That ans you have no direct combat power.

"But your Mana and Noble Phantasm paraters are extraordinarily high—A and EX. How do you explain this?"

"Of course," Watcher answered smoothly. "My spiritual foundation was not designed for combat. Involving directly would be as pointless as pounding nails with a microscope.

"I am not a sword, Master. I am the eye that guides the sword.

"My Mana parater cos from my energy source. My core is wired directly to the Avalon's ether reactor. As long as the ship's energy lasts, so too shall I.

"A grade expresses not the amount of mana I use at once, but the total I can draw upon—effectively infinite."

"And your Noble Phantasm?" Steve's curiosity peaked. "What is its na—its function?"

Watcher was silent for several seconds, as if querying a vast database.

At last, he gave a most unexpected answer.

"…I cannot say, Master.

"My Noble Phantasm is currently 'undetermined.' It is not a completed armant, but a process. Its form and effect depend on my observations—the future you, and your New Humans, create.

"When you put forth your 'question' to the world, and finally obtain an 'answer,' then the process is complete. Until then, its true shape and function are unknown."

Steve frowned. What a… philosophical Noble Phantasm. Not a weapon, but a Judgnt or Proof tied to his fate?

Just then, Sion hurried from the console, finally freed from tension. Her violet eyes now sparkled with almost mad scholarly excitent.

"Steve, I think… I understand!"

She joined him, gazing at the enigmatic Watcher, trembling with excitent. "He isn't a 'heroic spirit' in the traditional sense. Instead of a hero from human history, we summoned a character from a 'story'—no, we summoned the story itself!"

She quickly scrolled her datapad, logging readings from the summoning sequence.

"The Atlas forebearers postulated that, if the collective subconscious of a civilization grew strong enough—strong enough to shape the direction of the world itself—the world could manifest a 'living record' embodied in a unique spiritual body to record that very 'idea,'" she explained. "That's not a hero—it's the Incarnation of [Logos]."

"Your revolution—this very 'New Human' concept—is the new 'Human Order.' Our summoning didn't draw from history, but birthed its observer!"

"His mission isn't to fight—it's to define! That's why his Noble Phantasm is EX and 'undefined'—because its true effect will be to record whatever final outco we reach as fact for all ti!"

Sion's explanation struck Steve like lightning. In that instant, he understood. He hadn't called forth a sword or shield—but the scribe and notary of History's Will.

The presence of this null servant ant that Steve's cause was now recognized by the pan-human historical consciousness—Alaya—and put to the ultimate test.

Steve's heart shook. This power was far more fearso, and precious, than any ordinary champion—for it also showed that Alaya, regaining strength, was deeply wary of what Steve was attempting.

So, for the mont, a representative servant—a proxy, as it were—had been dispatched to serve as witness.

Drawing a deep breath, Steve mastered his emotions, regaining the composure of supre commander.

He had already understood perfectly how to use this servant.

"Watcher," he commanded, voice clear and unyielding. "From now on, blanket the Earth in observation.

"I want to know the movents of all the Earth Federation's top leaders—every action of their armies.

"More importantly, I want to find the 'inhuman' entities lurking in the shadows of this war—be they Church agents, Clock Tower top officials, or Dead Apostles.

"Give their locations, motives, every last scrap of intelligence.

"Lay bare the Whole Dark Side of This World to my eyes."

The silver mask bowed silently.

"Order acknowledged. Initiating observation."