"Act according to our expectations?" Amalaga sneered. He did not think Carl Bohar could accomplish that. He had thought the same way back then, only to be beaten senseless by the Subjective One.
Carl Bohar swept a cold glance over Amalaga and did not explain his plans or thoughts. In his view, joining forces with Amalaga was only temporary.
In truth, he had no interest in defeating the Subjective One either. He merely wanted to go to Mars and behold the true Machine God, then assist him in destroying the corpse that had been playing god atop the Golden Throne for so long.
"If it were Carl Bohar alone, he truly could not accomplish this." An illusory, ethereal voice drifted over.
"But if we combine our strength, the Subjective One's attention will be severely drained. His mortal shell dictates that he cannot be in more than one place at once. He can only deal with one problem, then the next, which means we will have enough time to cultivate even more problems. It is like a mansion. The Subjective One is the master living within it, while we are merely objects for him to manipulate. Yet we can bring several toilets in the mansion to the brink of overflowing. Even if the Subjective One can repair those toilets one by one, he cannot prevent the terrible fate of shit flying all over the house." A voice identical to the previous speaker's followed.
"That really is a disgusting analogy," Amalaga remarked.
"Given your simple brain structure, this is the only explanation I can use, idiot!"
"But he could just blow up the mansion, couldn't he? Then there would be no problems," Amalaga continued.
"But he will not do that. Through the Silent King, we have already planted a suggestion in the