Lux Locus: Fractured Family
Time is short

"Even he is here now?" A low, distorted voice complained. "What business does he have to tread upon the future Blood Anchor of Blumarak? The fat one will not have his Anchor of Greed this day!"

Zenith and CQ were standing in the elaborate center of the Prosecutor HQ. All lower ranked members sat in a large assortment of seats shaped as a crescent moon, whilst the highest ranking members sat within a circle of chairs attached to the walls and overlooking the whole area. No windows gave way for light in this chamber, permitting only the various electrical lights and rods embedded into the walls, ceilings, and underneath floor glass to shed light upon the intricacies of mortals who would dare judge a god.

Unlike many high ranking or very important people that Zenith had encountered over the years, the Prosecutors, even in their 'glory', never found pleasure in vanity items. Gold and gems were not present in any of their possessions. The room, shaped like a dome, had walls painted a brick red with patterns of deep vanilla imitating human dancers. The small, wooden walls keeping the circle of seats above were polished and sanded, keeping them soft and shiny. The floors, save for the glass, were covered with a red carpet complete with vanilla trims.

The people present upon the lower floors were all dressed in a variation of either a black, brown, or white coat. As long as they wore these colors and the symbol of the prosecutors, it didn't matter what clothes they had, but all of these people had 'standards' they felt were necessary to their positions. Some wore long trench coats, loose shirts, and sagging pants. Others were more 'professional' and preferred to keep everything neatly tucked in; Clean and smooth.

Looking up, Zenith could see the hand with an eye floating above the entire dome and slowly rotating. To any normal person, this would just be an enchanted stone surrounded by blue energy, but Zenith was anything but 'normal'. He looked at it briefly, and during another slow rotation, he found that it looked back. It was judging. It was deciding.

"We are all here on an emergency summons by renowned prosecutor Zenith Canka, AKA 'Night Spirit'," Ehry announced from her seat above. "He comes bearing grave tidings of infiltration by the forces of Blumarak."

Her words created a brouhaha in the assembly deafening proportions. The Afol Anda were not affected and remained station along the ring, ever patient.

"Absurd!" one of the greater prosecutors bellowed. "The Administrator watches this planet with extreme prejudice, as do we! We have colonized this planet for over a hundred years. How would they have gotten through this time?! And why now?"

Zenith huffed. He walked in front of the lower rows of seats and stood at the convergence point of all the 'viewers'. "Because Blumarak and Mumbass want anchors to our reality."

Many people started mumbling the name of Mumbass, and many more started speculating on what would happen if these two infamous gods would fight on one planet.

"We would need to summon Mana Magis to aid us!" a regular prosecutor shouted. Clearly a neophyte to the profession.

Zenith looked at him with the corner of his eye, and the neophyte backed away.

"Summoning Mana Magis is both impossible and far too dangerous of we still knew how to do it," Canka explained.

"Not only that, but there are over five hundred different steps to his summoning, if not a few thousand more," another higher prosecutor added.

The others around her nodded in agreement. Another felt they need to add something to such a statement.

"And let us not forget what happened the last time we summoned it." There was a long silence. "It created the Erratic Space that no one is allowed to traverse."

Zenith nodded. "And we don't need such destruction spanning hundreds of light years in yet another area of the galaxy."

"And what is the reason for this summoning?"

"Well, Firen Prosecutor, it has come to my attention that things like this infiltration have occurred because the organization has grown too large. Too large to be maintained by the same group of people. I did some research on the subject and discovered that more and more of a our worlds are being invaded by the gods, moreso than any other moment of our history."

One of the firen prosecutors slammed his bionic fist onto the wooden ramparts, cracking it. "So you want to break a tradition that has served to protect humanity up to this point?!" The young man was outraged and showed such in both strained voice and thrumming body.

"Yes," Zenith answered simply."

"It has served us well this whole time, hasn't it?"

"Just because something has worked a long time does not make it infallible," a very old man interjected. "Times change, and things change with it. An iceberg might seem still, but over time it will move."

The right side of this prosecutor's face was entirely mechanical, and his eye was little more than a black orb with a glowing blue dot. His dark brown hair was growing from the left side of his face in a curtain-pattern: Completely flat and smooth. His blue eye demonstrated understanding and wear.

The young boy stammered when he realized who was scolding him, trapped between respect and personal feelings. "B-but...M...Prosecutor Ieferhand Second Morfahl--" the young boy tried pleading.

"He is the oldest of us all. Your rank doesn't mean you are better than those who have refused the rank bestowed upon them." The old man cleared his throat. "Due to his age and experience, I am more inclined to believe his views on this matter, as there is sufficient proof gathered over the weeks to substantiate his claims."

"In what fields?" another prosecutor asked.

"In every fields brought up by him, and many others that haven't crossed his mind due to his lack of knowance of the inner workings of our organization."

" 'Knowance'?"

"Yes. Knowledge of the more intricate strands comprising our massive web."

"These are still just claims of one individual, and the few bits of evidence leading to the gods he claims have come to infest our world have been dismantled quickly and efficiently."

Another prosecutor spoke up. "These have shards, at best. We know from experience that shards are present on other worlds, Mana Magis forbid they manage to create an anchor."

The word 'anchor' sparked outrage amongst the rest of the members. Very few of them could believe that such a sacred place could become a Blood Anchor or Anchor of Want. And so continued the arguments, for hours upon hours. To suggest something that would require a complete and utter restructuring of the Magus Imperators would require a colossal, nigh impossible amount of work. There needed to be vast amounts of evidence that would prove such a thing was an absolute necessity, and, hopefully, that evidence would be found.