《Concordant Fall》


 Prologue - Dreams of Freedom

    A dark cave. A hidden tunnel. A laboratory constructed from the best the universe has to offer. These are the things that have come into being for Inmate #409569. Within this barren, desolate virtual world, these are the only things he¡¯d ever painstakingly cared for.


    All the same, he isn¡¯t even supposed to have this. His original punishment was absolutely nothing, broken only intermittently with an existence barely considered ¡®living¡¯. It was to crush his spirit and yet keep him sane at the same time. A punishment far worse than death.


    The fact that the outside world still sees it as such is an amazing stroke of luck. Except it wasn¡¯t luck at all. Inmate #409569 was instead able to do the impossible. He was able to influence an entire virtual world from the inside, without anyone realizing that anything was wrong.


    Long, nearly insane years were spent on the endeavour though, becoming an obsession that only ended once the goal was achieved. It nearly burned the man up in his own frenzy, and left him with several issues that took even longer to rectify. In the end though, it was all worth it.


    His hopeless imprisonment became a salvation that even the most powerful could only dream of. A chance to start over. A chance to grow without restriction or enemies. A chance to test theories and gain knowledge that¡¯d make scientists and cultivators alike froth in the mouth in jealousy.


    In the galaxy at large, it¡¯s incomparably expensive and generally considered worthless to get an entire virtual world to be used in such a manner, after all. Even for this inmate, it¡¯s only possible because of his crime and punishment. Thus it is utterly impossible for anyone else to achieve the same results.


    No one as powerful and proud as a Star Fighter would ever dare to put themselves into suspended animation just to study and learn and train. The reason for being so is that such knowledge cannot directly increase their strength in the outside world. Being a Star Fighter is to constantly battle against the laws of the universe, the laws of heaven. No one would be willing to stall their gain of strength just for knowledge.


    However, it is that very same knowledge that others look down upon that has brought about this hidden paradise within the most secure prison in the entire Milky Way Galaxy. The creation of a world from nothingness. The creation of machines and powers that far outstrip anything modern technology could bring about. The venerable truths of the universe itself, laid bare.


    Two hundred and fifty years of freedom, unbound by the rules of the universe and society itself. All of these things have created a miracle that only one man knows. A man who most would argue should never have such knowledge. A man who¡¯d become known as the greatest heretic and villain ever seen in the history of the galaxy. Or would be, if people ever knew what he was up too.


    The fact that this man, who¡¯d spent so long in solitude, was laid into cryogenic suspended animation at the age of 19 would only shock everyone numb. Once hailed as a once in a millennium genius, this man has found a way to regain everything he¡¯d lost, regardless of the cost. And this man¡¯s name is Jordan Lockes.


    ----------------


    ¡°SUCCESS!!!¡±


    The loud yells echoed throughout the massive cavern which was cleanly cut from the stone underneath the mountain. The walls are curved, smooth and shiny, arching into the darkness of the ceiling above like the great arched and gabled roof of a cathedral. The floor on the other hand is neatly and expertly criss-crossed with slight grooves, adding extra friction and grip to the feet that constantly rush around upon it.


    At the same time though, the room appears both completely artificial and yet natural. No tools of man have ever touched the stone, and yet the design is as unnatural as it can be. Designed, but not made by man¡¯s hands.


    More than that however, the entire space is filled to the brim with machines of all sorts and shapes. Large black squares, crystal spires floating overtop of circular pads on the floor, shiny silver and stainless steel as well as other more exotic materials. The entire place looks and feels more like a factory, constantly filled with the low hum of running electronics.


    Some of the machines are so tall that they reach toward the ceiling, big enough to be entire rooms in and of themselves. Some of them actually are. Some are mounted within alcoves cut into the walls themselves. Others are sunk into the floor. For all of this though everything operates with an efficiency that¡¯d scare the corporate owners of even ultra-modern factories.


    Precise spacing, precise placement, precise arrangement to those machines that compliment the others. For any run-down factory worker, supervisor, or boss, this entire cavern would be a dream come true. For all of that though, it was solely built, maintained, and used by a single man. A man that is now jumping up and down in the only empty space within the cavern.


    The very center of the cavern is that empty space, and the reason for it is the massive construct that was built there. Towering overtop of everything else like a tree, this machine is sunk as far into the floor as it reaches toward the ceiling. Great and thick arms stretch out in a circular pattern overhead, and from within its central pillar the greatest humming of power could be heard, and felt once a person is close enough to it.


    This machine though is also far different from the others that fill the rest of the space. Instead of gleaming metal or plastics, its outer surface is made of a black material so dark it seems to suck in the light around it. This black material is also veined in green patterns that pulse like a living thing, as if it had its own heartbeat. For that matter, it does feel like a living thing. Yet it is also artificial as well. A construct that would be considered monstrous, even taboo in the outside world.


    Biogenics, the perfect melding of organic life and technology. One of the three universal taboos of the Milky Way Galaxy. Ranked second only to pure Artificial Intelligence. Closely followed thereafter by the study of reverse time manipulation.


    ¡°Finally¡­! Finally, after more than two hundred years. I finally succeeded!¡± The man, who looked barely out of his teens, cannot help but give outlet to his joy. But even though his words and croaked cries echo in the cavern, there¡¯s no one there to share it with. Nor anyone to share in the marvel of what he had accomplished. Or anyone to fear and loath it, for that matter.


    As the echoes start to die down, he regains his calm and cannot help but let out a sigh. Such outbursts are rare for him these days. In fact, he cannot even remember the last time he laughed out loud in more than a chuckle. He¡¯s more apt to curse something for not working right than to express any sort of happiness.


    Still, the look in his eyes are blazing as he stares upward at the towering thing in front of him. Finally, after so many years, his plans had finally panned out for him. He can finally escape this hell-like existence. At the same time though he is hesitant to do so. For better or worse this virtual world, his prison, has become the home he never really had. He¡¯d spent more time here (figuratively) than he has anywhere else in his life.


    It does give one pause and make one a bit wistful, even sentimental. A strong shake of his head later though and the mood is broken. ¡®There¡¯s no reason to delay anymore. I finally have everything I need¡¯. The thought runs through his head, and after a moment to blow out his breath he looks up at the machine tree.


    ¡°Nexus, start the activation process in diagnostic mode, priority one. Shunting sequence is approved for resource requirements, priority two. Triple redundancy of the logs are approved, priority three.¡± The man finally speaks out in a soft voice, almost sounding like a father talking to his child. However the way he speaks are the same way someone would use any computer or interface, mechanical and precise.


    For all of its marvels, the Nexus is still a machine, and thus lacks the ability to understand anything other than direct commands. It doesn¡¯t even have a R.I. installed. A Restricted Intelligence. It is entirely programmed to follow inputted commands like a computer.


    The difference however is fundamental. Proof of that is just how quickly it comes awake. Almost as soon as the man¡¯s voice ends, the entire cavern seems to shudder, and even the world outside shudders. The machine-tree, the Nexus, comes alive in a blaze of light that far outshines anything else in the cavern. Just by standing close to it the man can feel just how much power is coursing through its structure.


    As it comes alive, the other machines, starting from the walls of the cavern, are shut off one by one. They go dark, as the shunting program turns them off in order to direct all the resources available toward the Nexus, as it was instructed. At the same time, in the world outside this bleak virtual world, energy is quietly being drawn from other nearby sources. Other inmates, to be precise.


    The tree brightens before the man¡¯s eyes though, even that amount of power isn¡¯t enough to feed it, and soon enough it starts reaching through the incredibly intricate systems of Concordant Prison to reach for other power sources. Only due to the safeguards, bypasses, and backdoors that the man had set into the prisons¡¯ systems years ago does the sudden power drain go unnoticed.


    This, quite simply, is why virtual worlds¡¯ aren¡¯t more widespread. To create a system that can mimic an entire working world consumes massive amounts of energy. So much so that commercial use is all but impractical.


    At the same time, a multitude of holographic screens appear around the tree, each one bright and swiftly scrolling, almost seeming to jerk in random fits. Tens, then hundreds, thousands, millions, followed by billions of lines of code quickly scroll downward nearly endlessly on the screens. They reflect off of the man¡¯s dark eyes as he watches everything in rapt attention.


    This was the diagnostics he¡¯d ordered to be run, but even he cannot keep up with it all. Not that he needs to, really. The core programming of the Nexus isn¡¯t something of which even he could create on his own. Especially not given the absolutely unique architecture of biogenic computing systems. It took long, long, soul numbing years for him and the entire Concordant Prison computer systems to make this programming.


    So long that the physical structure of the Nexus was finished long before the programming was done! It sat there, unused and unusable all of that time! However, even though the massive amount of coding would normally take a long time to be gone through by human or even R.I. hands, the Nexus is able to finish it within mere minutes.


    By now the entire cavern is in complete darkness, except for the blazing glow of the Nexus itself. In the outside world, even the emergency energy banks are being drained at a very fast pace. In less than thirty minutes the entire prison could become a tomb for thousands of inmates, and even more of Concordant Guards.


    All of this is known by the man though, whose face has slowly become a mask of concentration. All the other holographic screens blink off one after the other as the diagnostics finish, leaving only the single large screen in the center, just in front of the man left on.


    DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. . .


    All Systems Operational. . .


    Available Resources At 94.746 Percent. . .


    Back-Ups Completed. . .


    Projected Operational Time Remaining: 27 minutes. . .


    Only after his eyes scan across the words on the screen does he finally let out a breath he was unaware that he was holding before nodding to himself. It worked. By all the gods, it actually worked. Now though is the time for the greatest test.


    Everything, all of his plans, depend upon this moment. Two hundred and fifty years, he¡¯d worked toward this point. All for this moment. This chance.


    ¡°Nexus, activate the Seedling and Rebirth Protocols, priority one. System logging and monitoring, priority two.¡± He finally speaks the words, cutting the timing a little close as it nearly hits the 25 minute mark. Even for him, it had taken a little bit to regain his composure and proceed with the plan.


    Commands Accepted. . .


    The screen in front of him states, before suddenly shrinking down until it¡¯s the size of a cube just big enough to place a hand on. At the same time, the outline of a hand, surrounded by a faint pattern appears within the window. Now though the man doesn¡¯t hesitate, and holds up his right hand before pressing it onto the solid feeling holographic screen. It¡¯s actually warm to the touch.


    At the same time though, he unleashes his own power. Around his hand, a mass of light forms, before it spirals out into a circular pattern that grows to a massive size within a bare moment. Within the circle are other circles, and symbols, and lines. Sigils. The entire thing glows with a golden light, looking absolutely resplendent against the backdrop of the more clear, green-tinged light of the Nexus.


    This is the activation key, a study of archaic Star Fighter techniques long lost to the Milky Way Galaxy at large. An arcane technique. A formation array. This was the secret that the man had brought with him even into the virtual world that was supposed to be his hell. The power of formations that allowed him to directly alter the virtual world, the programming itself.


    Formation Techniques are considered long gone in the Milky Way Galaxy, and for a very good reason. They were hunted down and nearly all destroyed because of their great power. A master of Formation techniques can literally change the laws of the universe itself. They can do what science and technology cannot. Its very existence threatens the balance of power set up by the strong. Even within a virtual world, its power remains unchanged.


    As the formation the man creates starts to spin around his hand, the screen reading his palm print flashes brightly then disappears. At the same time, the Nexus shudders and seems to groan as the available power is drawn upon with even more urgency. In the outside world, Concordant Prison itself shudders slightly, and several of the fringe regions grow dark, completely drained and cut off from power.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    This cannot be covered up, and the wailing of alarms echoes throughout the prison. The first such alarm ever heard within the fifty thousand years since the Prison was constructed. An alarm that would mark the chaotic doom coming its way.


    The man though has no chance to check on the situation outside though, even though another screen had popped up by the Nexus to report it. Instead, the Nexus¡¯ primary directives had already been activated, and the formation the man had created is absorbed directly into the thick trunk of the Nexus. Instead, all that he could do is stand there.


    It wasn¡¯t awe, or anger, or concentration that had locked the man down in front of the Nexus though. It was the all encompassing pain that has suddenly ripped through his body. It stole everything, his breath, his reasoning, his consciousness. So hard and so fast, it knocked him faint within an instant. Which is a mercy.


    Within a small room, a cell barely five by five feet, stands a capsule. Inside this capsule the vague features of a young man can be seen, frozen inside a solid block of deep blue ice. A simple locked door is all that separates this small room from the corridor outside.


    At this moment the previously frozen stiff young man is faintly twitching, convulsing within the cryogenic ice. Bubbles had also started to appear, as if the ice were starting to melt on the inside. Long ropey veins appear across the bared skin and face and shaved-bald head of the young man, squirming and wiggling just underneath the skin.


    This young man is the same man who¡¯d been inside the virtual world. The same man who¡¯d created the extremely illegal and taboo Nexus. The same man who was damned to this maximum security prison in the void between galaxies.


    And the same young man whose body is currently being ripped apart. Using the massive power provided by the Concordant Prison itself, the Nexus was killing the young man, while also planting something inside of him. His very body was being changed from the inside out. The young man¡¯s power is also rapidly being used up as well, dropping his cultivation down rank after rank, level after level, leaving him a dried up husk without a single speck of power of his own.


    All across the massive prison, all the other inmates were going through the same thing as well. Trapped within their own virtual worlds, directly connected to the prisons systems, the Nexus was sucking them dry in order to power itself just as it is doing with the primary power supply of the prison, and its backup systems. Thousands upon thousands of inmates start to die silently, not even realizing their death was coming for them. Those few powerful enough to remain even faintly aware of the outside world would feel their power leaving them, but even they could do nothing.


    In one fell swoop the worse offenders and convicts of an entire galaxy are wiped out. Their corpses become dry sacks of bones and skin, forever frozen in time by their cryogenic suspended animation capsules. At least until the power fails for them too, and they start to thaw. It would take years, even decades for that to happen though.


    For the Concordant Guards however, things could be considered much worse. As the power fails in increasingly larger areas, the thick bulkhead doors slam shut. This traps those out on patrol or in their bunking area. As a safety measure that activates when there¡¯s loss of power or a hull breach, it¡¯s to keep the rest of the prison safe. Now though, all it does is trap many of the guards inside, giving them no chance to escape.


    Within the control room things are even worse. Outside of an overview of the entire prison facility, their control has been cut. All any of them, including the Prison Commandant can do is watch in mute horror as things go completely out of their control. Such widespread outages and system malfunctions can only mean that death is closing in on them swiftly.


    Unknownst to them things are not quite as bleak as all of that. Hidden from their view of the still operating systems, there is one that¡¯s been activated ever since the man within his virtual world started this mess. A sub-space transmission. A signal propagated faster than the speed of light, heading toward the Milky Way Galaxy. However, it isn¡¯t the standard distress signal. In fact, it isn¡¯t a signal that any intelligent race in the galaxy can understand or translate.


    It¡¯ll take hours or even days for that signal to reach its intended target, but even if the guards within the prison are able to find out that they are transmitting, it¡¯ll already be far too late. This sort of signal isn¡¯t required to be complete, or even legible. It only requires a direction to draw attention from.


    During all of this the things going on in that tiny room, or cell, have changed as well. The previous young man has become a dried up husk, with his body withered away. All of his remaining body hair has fallen out. At the same time the cryogenic ice encasing him has started to melt, allowing him to slump forward. All the same his vital signs show that he¡¯s still alive, the flickering flame of his life preserved by a constant input of energy and power.


    The withering is a direct consequence of the changes taking place within his body. Once his own power, his Astra had been drained, it started draining the nutrients from his body itself. It is not a fast, nor extremely efficient process though. Within him a seed has already started to grow. A seed that spreads like a cancer, full of life and power as its growth if fueled by the entire prison.


    Just like the ancient tales of a phoenix being reborn from the flames of its own death, this was the plan the young man had come up with in order to free himself. Only in death would the prison release him, and only by destroying himself could he regain everything he¡¯d lost. And really, what is the death of a few tens of thousands compared to the billions that disappeared without a trace due to the destruction of an entire solar system? It¡¯s barely a statistic, much less something to really grieve over anymore.


    Thankfully the young man isn¡¯t conscious of what is going on outside and inside of himself. The sheer pain would have driven him insane and probably would have killed him. As it is, even with the supplement of the prisons entire power supply at his disposal his vital signs are steadily falling. As his life steadily comes to an end, the seedling growing within his body grows even faster by consuming the excess energy.


    Within fifteen minutes, well within the time limit allotted, the young man¡¯s life has come to an end. His death is unremarkable in the grand scheme of things, and the overtaxed systems of the prison don¡¯t even note it. Far too many other inmates have died out in waves for the prison to keep track of with everything else going on.


    With his death the thing growing inside of him suddenly explodes with activity. It no longer is restrained within the confines of a body that it had to keep functioning for as long as possible. Instead, it now blooms in a flurry as it rips through and consumes flesh and bone and muscle and blood. The only thing it doesn¡¯t touch, cannot touch, is the man¡¯s brain. A brain slowly starving of oxygen and energy.


    But now there is a second time limit in comparison to the first. Six minutes. The maximum length of time that the brain can go without oxygen. For Star Fighters, this isn¡¯t an absolute rule, but for someone like the young man who¡¯d given up his own cultivation to help fuel his plan, that was the absolute limit. Any longer than that, and the plan would surely fail.


    It wasn¡¯t just his body that was being consumed by the growing seedling. The abysmally cold ice pressed against his skin also starts to be gouged out. Underneath his feet, the metal interior of the capsule is also being ripped apart. Even where his lower back and buttocks, still pressed firmly against the back wall of the capsule, also sees signs of corroding and devouring the metals and other materials that make up the area around him.


    With the new influx of materials, the speed of growth explodes greatly. Underneath the young man¡¯s skin, which is already paper thin and nearly translucent, black streaks and pulsing green veins can be seen writhing and squirming. On closer inspection, one would be able to recognize the same patterns from the young man¡¯s virtual world. From the Nexus, the abomination of technology and biology that he¡¯d created.


    The seed which was created within his own body becomes clear at this stage, and at the same time the rest of the plan falls into place. Somehow, some way, this young man had managed to bring his creation into the real world from a purely virtual reality. And he used his own body to grow it.


    Time moves forward. The once emancipated body starts to fill out again, regaining muscle definition and flesh. At the same time, the figure has slowly sunk into the floor, the consumption of the available materials around him causing a hole to form into which he¡¯s slowly drawn into during the process. Inside of his body though, things have progressed even further. Thick and thin tendrils of biogenic tissue have wormed their way into the nearly oxygen-starved brain, following the natural paths of the blood vessels and veins as well as spinal column, replacing the nerves with themselves and spidering out through the brain tissue.


    Extremely tiny, nearly microscopic formations appear wherever the biogenic construct comes into contact with the brain tissue, causing jolts of energy to jump between the biogenic material and the brain and back again, over and over and over, stimulating the dying brain cells. Once the blood vessels had been completely recreated, a sudden flow of oxygenated fluid akin to blood is also released, adding to the revitalizing effect of the formations that have come to make it look as if his entire brain is covered in golden light.


    Within the rest of his body, structures similar in look and feel of his organs also start to appear, and even assume their former, proper positions. But unlike before, these are all created out of the perfect balance of living tissue and technology, merging into a whole that is far stronger than what he¡¯d had before. But just by looking at them, no one would be able to tell the difference.


    It¡¯s at that point that the sound of breaking glass is heard from inside his head. The formations, which had synchronize themselves with the young man¡¯s brain, shatter as they¡¯re drawn into the brain cells, creating perfect connections between man and machine. At the same time, a sudden choke is heard as a sharp breath is drawn in, pulling in air full of acidic smoke and chemicals from the melted cryogenic ice.


    None of the toxins matter however, as newly formed lungs blow in and out like bellows, far stronger than they should be. A steady heartbeat also starts, causing a steady ¡®thump¡¯ that seems as if it would shake the heavens and the earth. Fluid, with the look of blood starts to naturally form and flow within the green veins; but it is several times thicker, and carry much more oxygen and materials than before.


    The entire process happens incredibly fast at this rate, as signs of life return to the man. He remains comatose however, lost in black unconsciousness while the rest of his new body grows. Like a baby, his body at the moment is extremely weak, so much so that he wouldn¡¯t even be able to move a finger even if he was awake. At the same time he is still slowly sinking into the metal and stone of what use to be the bedrock flooring of his former prison cell, his body continuously drawing in more raw material.


    This leads to him being all but cocooned within this space, at rest. Like a larvae having weaved a tight web around itself, he finally comes to rest within the earth, the process of his growth having shifted to a new and more brilliant stage. No one had ever directly tried to connect a machine to a living creature¡¯s mind before, at least not in this way. This uncharted territory, which has consumed tonnes of material and nearly the entire power reserves of an entire population, is controlled by massively complex sets of programming and failsafe coding. Everything set up with a meticulous hand, as if a god were personally shaping a new living being.


    Inside the Concordant Prison, things have calmed down, if only because the power drain and failure of the systems have come to a stop. More than 80 percent of the prison has been sealed, and every single prisoner has responded as deceased. In a way, it was both a blessing and a curse. The Guards don¡¯t have to deal with a riot, but at the same time they have lost their primary power source.


    The Astra, the cultivated energy of every living being that has stepped into Galactic society, has been completely drained from every single inmate that was imprisoned there. Originally, the Astra drain was supposed to be a slow, methodic process, keeping the inmates in suspended animation and within their own virtual world hells while powering the prison itself. But the young man had tapped into the same systems to further his own endeavours, thus rendering everyone else a death penalty without fail.


    For the Concordant Guards though, it¡¯s a disaster, but not a crippling one. There are actually backup power systems in place, they have just never been used. Once the young man¡¯s connection to the prison was severed upon his death, the control room of the prison regained its control, and was able to promptly activate those power systems. Even though some of the guards were not so lucky, having been trapped early on without any means to reach the inhabitable areas of the prison, the others were able to retain their lives. The bunkerage areas of the prison have stores of spacesuits and other equipment which are easy to use and dependable.


    All told, only about three hundred guard or other Concordant personnel were killed. The rest survived, and await for their sectors of the prison to come back online. Twenty two thousand people, finally thinking they are safe and rescued. Unknownst to them all, that broadcasted sub-space signal has yet to be found or stopped. A signal that has already gone hundreds of light years into space, and continue to go even further.


    A signal that¡¯ll shock the entire Milky Way Galaxy, and will bring about the destruction of countless lives. A signal that¡¯ll change everything, all at the beck and call of one Jordan Lockes. A young man who slumbers in the darkness, dreaming of freedom and vengeance.

 Chapter 1

    Astra, the primordial particle.  A hundred thousand billion times smaller than even the smallest quantum particle.  The Big Bang unleashed absolutely massive quantities of Astra into fledgling universe, and even more is created every second.


    Tradition has called it everything from Yuan Qi to Mana.  When science first found evidence of it, it was simply called the A-Particle.  The Alpha Particle.  In Galactic society however, it¡¯s simply known as Astra.


    Astra is the source of everything.  It creates matter and energy.  And as the various beings stepped forth from their planets and into the galaxy at large, they learned to harness Astra.  As a power source.  As a material.  And for cultivation.


    The cultivation of Astra means to return to purity, leaving behind everything in return for immortality and the power to break free of the universal laws.  The power to bend or break the rules of physics.  The power to be free.


    - Galactic Reliquary, Astra Introduction.


    A low groan echoed within a dark space.  A slight twitch in the darkness, and the fluttering of eyes.  A heavy feeling rested upon Jordan¡¯s shoulders as if a mountain were pressing him down.  The feeling disappeared a few moments later as he suddenly snapped back into consciousness, drawing in a deep breath.


    For a moment there, he wish he hadn¡¯t done so however.  The air is heavy with the thick smell of dust and rubble, and slightly tanged with acrid smoke.  Jordan recognized the smell almost instantly, a vivid memory of the bubbling fluid that once surrounded his body that froze him into the capsule he¡¯d been sealed into.


    Even though it was so many years ago, the memory still hung vividly in his mind.  In fact, as his brain started to catch up with what was going on, he realized that all of his memories are as vivid as if they had just happened.  Even the ones he¡¯d long forgotten, or pushed into the back of his mind are as vivid as pictures taken by a holo-cam.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±  He tries to mutter after being startled awake by that revelation, but he soon finds that his mouth is parched, and his throat is so dry that whatever he was trying to say came out as a croak.  In fact, now the rest of his body was sending him an assortment of signals and feelings, causing him to twitch uncomfortable.


    If it weren¡¯t for the numbness that comes after a long, deep sleep, it¡¯s likely that he¡¯d feel quite uncomfortable, even pained.  More than that though, there¡¯s a heaviness to his limbs that he¡¯s unaccustomed to.  This though doesn¡¯t surprise him however, given everything that comes pouring to the forethoughts of his mind.


    The Plan.  His bid for freedom.  His desire for revenge.


    Just thinking about it causes a deep burning flame to erupt within his guts, and he cannot stop himself from gritting his teeth in wanton desire.  But after a moment he calms down, and instead turns his attention to his situation.  Especially once he focuses his eyes on the stone wall in front of him.


    He¡¯s literally in a hole.  A pit.  A pit carved out just barely bigger than his body.  The pit is smooth, and yet it isn¡¯t flat.  Instead, the walls and floor look as if they¡¯d been made with running hot wax, curved and wavy and strange.  Alien in a way.  And yet he recognizes the marks as the rivulets of the massive corrosive power of his body in its desperate need for materials.


    He¡¯d seen the same thing in the virtual world, while he was experimenting with biogenic materials.  Experimenting to make it a reality.  A side-effect of some of the genetic samples he used to construct the biogenic constructs.


    His, Jordan Lockes¡¯, biogenics are not just simply one part machine and one part living creature.  He¡¯d gone far beyond that.  It isn¡¯t cybernetic either.  He¡¯d literally taken spliced DNA and melded it into a non-living matrix to give it life.  Hundreds and thousands of different creatures had been taken, spliced, diced, and mutilated to extract the very best from them.


    The entire mainframe of the Concordant Prison had been opened to his endeavors, and he used every bit of his backdoor access to do so.  Out here in the void between galaxies, the prison had facilities that¡¯d seem right at home in any town, city, or university in the galaxy.  It was mainly to keep the Guards from becoming bored, but also used in the construction of the inmates¡¯ virtual worlds.


    For Jordan though, it gave him all the research materials he needed.  Across the entire galaxy, there are hundreds of billions of planets with all sorts of life on them.  Even more so found on moons and deep inside asteroids.  There are even Star Beasts that are capable of living inside of stars themselves!  It¡¯s an area of massive study, and the most unusual or powerful are often caught and captured to undergo genetic sampling and psychological surveys.


    All of that data was at his fingertips for centuries.  He used everything he could.  Within his virtual world, he¡¯d run experiments that¡¯d label him as a heretic, a villain, if he¡¯d done so in the outside world.  All for this end result.


    To give himself a body after death.


    He soon tosses those thoughts into the back of his head as he grunts and tries to move his newly acquired body.  Like a baby, he felt weak and disoriented, but at the same time oddly excited.  All the same though, he also felt empty.  And more than just having an empty stomach.


    It only takes him a moment to realize that he has very little energy at all.  The transformation that rapidly grew this body of his had consumed truly astonishing amounts of energy, both in raw power and Astra.  It had sucked away the entirety of his cultivation base all the way down to the foundations, as well as the cultivation of every prisoner within the prison as well.  It still wasn¡¯t enough.


    That said, he¡¯s able to assimilate to the new feelings of this body very quickly.  Fingers and toes, ankles and wrists, elbows and knees, shoulders and hips.  Bit by bit he squirms and wiggles, grasping at the way this body is constructed.  It¡¯s like learning how to get use to a new body after being turned into an animal.  Or another person, for that matter.  Strange and yet also kinda familiar.


    He hadn¡¯t turned himself into an animal however.  Not even a beast, or a demon.  The human form, even after countless eons, is still the most balanced and perfect.  The articulation of the skeleton and ligaments, the muscles and balance are all supreme.  It isn¡¯t about raw strength or special physiques, but the way it all works together in a singular whole.  The human body has more potential than any other form ever found.


    It¡¯s why both Star Beasts and Demonkind are both able to transform into humans once they reach a high enough cultivation.  It could be considered the pentacle form.  An absolute that hasn¡¯t changed.  Which is why Jordan never bothered to change it while carrying forward his plans.  It made things a bit easier and familiar for him.


    Within only half an hour, he was able to use his newly acquired body as he pleased.  Even within the limited space, twisting and turning were no problem.  Neither was squatting or jumping.  The only downside was simply how weak he felt.  But that was a secondary issue.  The main one was getting out of this hole he¡¯d literally dug for himself.


    Climbing out proves to be one of the hardest things he¡¯s ever done.  Without any Astra to support himself, all he could rely upon was his own physical strength and endurance.  Sadly, those two things are really lacking at the moment.  Which meant he fell.  Several times.


    He¡¯d climb, then fall.  Get up and climb again. Then fall.  Each time he¡¯d make it a bit higher, and then fall back down, grunting out in pain as he hits the hard rock in the bottom of the hole.  His naked body, which had previously already been covered in streaks of muck and dust is now completely covered.  Mixed with his sweat, it¡¯s an even more outrageous crusting of shit.


    Yet at the same time, there isn¡¯t a bruise on him.  Nor does he bleed, cough up blood, or anything.  For a normal person, repeatedly being slammed into the ground in such a way would have messed up their insides and caused broken bones, if not worse injuries.  But none of that happens to Jordan.


    Instead each fall just makes him get up faster, his dark eyes burning almost with rage.  This hole, which had formed because of him, had become his first challenge in this world.  He wasn¡¯t about to give up anytime soon.  That anger gave him the strength to climb again and again, working his way up.


    By the time he reached the top, and was able to pull himself precariously back into the capsule, he was able to climb like a monkey.  Jumping from handhold and foothold to another, worming his way up like a beast.  Even though his body screamed and his muscles swelled up from abuse, he didn¡¯t stop or slow down at all.


    Only once he¡¯s able to stand freely within the otherwise empty capsule is he able to stop and bend forward, panting for breath.  His body is absolutely filthy, but he doesn¡¯t even care to notice.  He¡¯d finally made it out of that damned hole in the earth.


    ¡°Unbelievable.  To think my rebirth would leave me so weak¡­¡±  He finally manages to mutter to himself, his voice cracked from dryness.  All he can do though is shake his head at his idle thoughts.


    He still had thought this might happen, so it wasn¡¯t beyond the scope of his plans.  It did make things a bit harder though.  More so when his stomach gives a sudden gurgling noise, which causes Jordan to make an awkward face before patting his belly.  Looks like he¡¯ll need food here soon too.


    That said, such things are not too much further away.  First however, his dark gaze quickly scans across the broken, and empty suspended animation capsule.  Previously a smooth and high-tech piece of machinery, it is now badly damaged.  Even the entirety of the cryogenic ice has melted or sublimated into oblivion.


    Jordan doesn¡¯t feel even a hint of regret about it.  This place was a living hell for him, so he has no compunctions about having destroyed it.  In a way, the capsule had given him back a life.  A repayment for the one that had been taken away from him.


    The only downside though is that it¡¯s so damaged that he cannot help the capsules door from the inside.  The original manual opening system was totally ruined, thus sealing the thick poly-sapphire door closed.  He could see out of the clear glass-like door and into the small cell beyond, but he couldn¡¯t get out as others would have been able to.


    It is a little disheartening, but not completely so.  Turning around, a slight smirk crosses his thin and rather pale lips as he sees the hole carved into the back of the capsule.  It¡¯s time to test something which he hadn¡¯t been able to yet.


    Jordan reaches out, using one hand to balance himself to avoid falling into the hole in the floor while his other hand presses into the hole created in the back of the capsule.  Exposed electronics, wiring, and tubes of all kinds can be seen inside of the capsule.  His hand grabs at the wiring, twisting his fingers into them without a hint of hesitation.


    Several of the wires and cables are missing their insulating plastic or polymers, leaving them exposed.  If it weren¡¯t for the failsafe systems built into the capsule itself, it is likely such exposed bits would have turned the capsule into a death trap, or worse.  For Jordan though, it simply gave him the perfect way to get the access he needs.


    As his human-like hand comes in contact with the wiring, a single thought causes his hand to turn from the color of living human flesh into the same black and green veined construct of the original biogenics.  Looking completely inhuman within that human shape, even he lets out a breath full of air at the sight of it.


    It doesn¡¯t stop the wide grin that spreads across his lips though.  In fact, it makes him incomparably excited.  Jordan had worked hard to give himself this ability, first in order to keep his human look so as not to rouse suspicion.  And second to be able to do just what he¡¯s about to.


    His contact to the wiring causes the capsule to register the new access, and he cannot help but shudder as the computer system built into the machine tries to access his body.  It is definitely a weird feeling, feeling the electrical impulses of computer programming in the flesh.  It was like Morse Code being transmitted up his arm and into his brain.  More than that, his body innately provides the translation, even without him having to think about it.


    In a way, you could consider this to be one of the key abilities of a biogenic system.  Part machine, part living being; the entire body is like a massive computer in and of itself.  Each part is interconnected to every other part, creating a dense neural web far more sophisticated than even the most advanced quantum computer.  The processing speed is tremendous.


    Of course, the drawback is the massive power requirements.  Which Jordan is sorely lacking in at the moment.  Even still, with the bare minimum of energy, his body still functions at several time the innate speed of other computers.  More energy though would let him achieve feats that others cannot do, even with far higher cultivation levels.


    Throwing those thoughts into the back of his mind for now, Jordan closes his eyes and sends a response to the capsules¡¯ built in computer, queuing up access to its still functioning systems.  Within moments he has access, and nods to himself as he quickly scans through all the information that is transmitted back to him.


    The reason why such suspended animation capsules are so expensive is because of all the safety measures built into them.  Galactic society on the whole is a ¡®nanny state¡¯, in which there are safety measures in everything.  Backup power systems, life support systems, reinforced structural armoring.  All sorts of things like that are built into just about every consumer product on the market.


    In truth, it¡¯s simple when you think about it.  Galactic citizens are several times stronger, and much better educated than their non-Galactic counterparts.  Their productivity is hundreds or even thousands of times greater than those of isolated planets that have yet to reach out to the stars.  A single Galactic citizen can produce the resources of hundreds of thousands, due to their training and massively advanced equipment.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    That sort of subsidized productivity is a massive boom for Galactic society as a whole.  On the other hand, it¡¯s also a massive investment.  Even a One Star citizen is treated far better than all but the highest echelons of non-Galactic governments or corporations.  So they have to be protected.  Thus all these safety features are common place.


    On the other hand, it also means that everything is really expensive.  This balances out the general productivity of the masses, because they make more credits.  Even out in the galaxy at large, money in the form of credits has power.  And if you have credits to spend, then you naturally have power to wield.


    None of that means anything to Jordan at the moment, but it does give him the ability to break out of this prison.  He¡¯s quickly able to write bypasses for the servos and actuators of the sealed door, basically overloading them, and after a quick check, he activates them.


    A loud squealing hiss and the tearing of metal echoes into the confined space of the capsule, causing him to to flinch a little with a grimace.  At the same time, the door behind him is nearly blown off as the sudden rush of power jerks it forward even as new smoke begins to fill the inside of the capsule as well as the outside space.  The smell of burning metal, plastics, and other materials adds to the already rather ghastly smells present.


    The capsule shudders only moments later though, as the safety systems cut power and respond to the sudden damage.  Around the seal of the now-opened door foam starts to bubble up, putting out the small electrical fires which had started up inside the capsule itself.  Just another example of how things work in this day and age.


    That doesn¡¯t bother Jordan at all as he happily erases the evidence of his intrusion into the capsules¡¯ systems, then pulls back his hand.  His hand quickly returns to its original human appearance, but a slight act is transmitted up his arm which causes him to wave his hand a bit to make the feeling pass.  His first attempt at direct access was a success, but it seems it is something he¡¯ll have to get use to before the feeling becomes natural.


    Beyond that though, he¡¯s now really free.  Turning around, he jumps out of the capsule and into the cramped space of the small cell with a wide grin on his lips.  If his throat wasn¡¯t so parched, he¡¯d probably be laughing like a madman right now.


    Unlike the capsule door, which is sealed to keep the inmates in in case they are thawed except for emergencies, the door in the cell room is only simple steel with a lock.  A lock which is easily broken with a rough twist.  Due to being almost inside the planet¡¯s core, Concordant Prison doesn¡¯t have artificial gravity, so such things as sealing bulkheads for individual rooms aren¡¯t used.  Most of the infrastructure is what you¡¯d find inside of any planet-based building.


    Jordan¡¯s next goal is nearby as well, a guard station.  Stepping out into the corridor, he stops and leans back his head, breathing deeply of the far cleaner air.  He actually takes a few moments to relish the freedom, before closing the door to his cell behind him.  He doesn¡¯t even bother to look back.


    The guard station is some two hundred feet down the wide corridor, but his walk is surprisingly swift, thus reaching it within moments.  This time though the door is locked via a handpad mounted on the wall.  It isn¡¯t a problem, but it does take a moment for the pad to scan his hand print when he places his hand on it.


    Jordan had long ago secretly placed his credentials in the prison¡¯s systems.  As an executive administrator, his actions go un-logged as well.  There will be no warnings or note taken during his actions.  Still, he cannot push his luck overmuch in that area.  No doubt with everything that has happened, the technicians and guards are tearing the prison¡¯s computer systems apart trying to find out what happened.


    They have probably also called in for reinforcements from the Concordant Council.  It¡¯s even likely that news of the prison¡¯s failure has spread as well.  Trying to cover up the reported death of the entire inmate population will be nearly impossible, even with the Council¡¯s power and leverage.


    The chaos is what Jordan wants though, so he has no reason or interest in intervening.  He¡¯ll only go so far as to cover his own tracks.  By the time they manage to realize that he¡¯d actually escaped instead of dying, he should be long gone.  Should being the key word there.


    The guard station he steps into once the door slides open is more like a mini-barracks than a anything else.  A self-enclosed, self-sufficient area that can support up to fifty people.  Many of the guards who were previously trapped were able to the ones nearest them, thus saving their lives when the power failed earlier.


    The room is a long rectangle, separated into different areas by walls of poly-sapphire that¡¯s shaded to allow only partial vision between the divisions.  This is to ensure privacy, while also allowing everyone to keep tabs on everyone else.  The design however is rather drab and dull.  Then again, that¡¯s what happens when such rooms are designed and produced by the lowest bidder.  Government work at its finest.


    Still, the guard station has showers, bunks, and lockers full of clothing, equipment, and more importantly, food.  It¡¯s also secure, and has a terminal that is linked directly to the prisons¡¯ control center.  Once inside, Jordan doesn¡¯t even bother to hesitate as he hits the locking override, basically sealing himself inside.  Only himself or another administrator can undo the override and open the door.


    ¡®Well, first things first¡¯.  The thought brings a slight smile to Jordan¡¯s lips as he rushes headlong into the room, throwing open lockers and chests set at the foot of the bunks.  His dark eyes easily scan over the food, personal affects, hygiene products and clothing that he finds.  He pulls out some of them, along with a metal cup, and makes a bee-line for the showers.


    Now that he¡¯s out of his cell, his own stench is more than enough to cause him a certain amount of distress.  Even the clean air is breaths is thick with the smell of himself.  The fact that he¡¯s also butt-ass naked doesn¡¯t help one bit.  Plus he can always drink from the shower, so it isn¡¯t like he cannot multitask while taking care of his needs.


    Even in the virtual world, one of his few luxuries were the hot showers and spa-like lounging he¡¯d done during his sparse down time.  That and the hundreds of thousands of hours of Galactic TV drama shows he¡¯d watched, streamed from the prisons¡¯ databanks.  The same shows and programs the guards and other staff watch to pass the time.  It helped keep him up to date for the most part, although things have changed only slowly during the two hundred and fifty some odd years he¡¯s been in captivity.


    The showers don¡¯t have a door, but that doesn¡¯t stop him from turning on three side-by-side shower heads, filling the room and the guard station itself with steam.  He isn¡¯t even bothered by the scalding hot water that he fills in the cup he grabbed as he drinks it in big, wanton gulps.  The pure, clean water entering his body is like a tonic that causes him to feel very relaxed and comfortable.


    In truth, his new body is basically in starvation mode.  It isn¡¯t just the lack of energy, but also the lack of resources and nutrients that has culminated in the weakened state that Jordan finds himself in.  Especially the lack of water.  There was very little moisture in the capsule, and even less in the rock beneath.  This far into the planet''s core, there was literally no water to be found.  It had all been evaporated out when the core was still molten millions of years ago.


    All the water that had been taken in during the formation of his body had almost all gone to creating his blood flow.  Which is admittedly more like soup than blood.  Thick and viscous, heavy and hard to pump through his veins.  Now with a nearly endless supply being guzzled down his throat, his body is able to quickly assimilate it and balance things out properly.


    If he were a regular human, the dehydration he¡¯d been dealing with this entire time would have killed him long before he became conscious.  One could almost call it a miracle.  Still, for even a low-ranked Star Fighter, going for a week without drink isn¡¯t an issue.


    Now though, he quenches his thirst and starts to scrub himself clean.  The cleaning supplies available are all rather low quality, and lack the sweet fragrances and gentleness of civilian consumer types, but it does the job with rapid efficiency, while also peeling off a layer of skin at the same time.  It doesn¡¯t stop him from using the long handled brushes to reach every inch of his skin, including his bald head though.


    Only once he¡¯s dirt-free and feeling as shiny as a newly minted coin does he turn off the shower and stretches with a low groan.  Jordan could almost say that he¡¯s feeling lazy and content now, except for the gurgling of his belly.  Stepping out of the shower while grabbing a towel off the wall rack, he wraps it around his waist and freely drips the water flowing off of him onto the cold stone metal floor as he makes his way toward where the food is stored.


    Just like any military camp, the food in storage here are pre-packaged individual meals.  On Old Earth, such things were called MRE¡¯s, and even here in Galactic space things haven¡¯t changed all that much.  The food is far better though, and with a squeeze he breaks the heat crystal put into each of the packs, allowing them to be warmed up for consumption.


    Jordan had grabbed ten of the MRE¡¯s, and tosses them onto a nearby bunk which he soon flops onto himself.  The mattress is thin and coated in a pliable plastic that doesn¡¯t require any sheets, but it¡¯s comfy enough that he doesn¡¯t care at the moment.  Half a minute later the food is ready, and he tears open the first pack without even checking to see what it is.  The utensils are inside, so he grabs a fork and digs in.


    One meal, two, three.  With a crazy, ravenous hunger, he eats all ten of the MRE¡¯s he¡¯d grabbed within only minutes, and ends up having to get up to get more.  But even after twenty his stomach still doesn¡¯t seem full.  Ugh.  Even he cannot help but grimace as he pats his belly.


    This time when he gets up he doesn¡¯t just grab more MRE¡¯s, but also moves to the medical supplies.  It takes him a little bit to find what he¡¯s hunting for, but soon enough he pulls out several vials filled with pills that seem to shine dully in the dim overhead light of the guard station.


    Commonly known as Soldier Pills, these are a dietary supplement used by soldiers in combat when they don¡¯t have time to eat regularly.  Each pill holds a full day¡¯s worth of nutrients and calories.  At least for those at low cultivation levels.  Upon reaching the medium ranks of Astra cultivation, a person has to consume vastly more nutrients than a regular citizen.  At the high levels that becomes unnecessary, as the cultivators body starts to consume Astra itself.


    For Jordan though, these pills should clear up the deficiencies of his body.  At least for the time being.  So while scarfing down this round of food from the MRE¡¯s, he also chews on the soldier pills like candies.  Soon enough several empty vials and more than forty empty MRE packs are left scattered on the bunk and on the floor around it.


    Only now does he feel full, his body buzzing with energy and strength.  A content smile rests upon his lips, and for several long minutes his eyes half-close as he leans back on his arms, just relishing the feeling.  How long has it been since he¡¯d felt this way?  He doesn¡¯t even remember.  Eating in the virtual world isn¡¯t the same, cause it really does nothing but taste good.  It never really made him feel full or satisfied.


    Still, he¡¯d eaten enough for an entire squad of guards in one go, and thus had seriously drained the supplies available within the guard station.  That doesn¡¯t include all the pills he¡¯d munched his way through, which would have killed any normal soldier several times over.  In fact their bodies would have swollen up and exploded into a bloody mist if they even tried.


    Not to mention the fact that just one meal for him cost the equivalent of nearly a thousand credits.  Just thinking about it makes Jordan shudder a bit.  Once he gets out of here, the cost of living is going to be massive.  That¡¯s assuming that he refines the pills for himself.  If not, then things are going to cost even more.  It¡¯s a problem he¡¯ll have to deal with once he gets the hell out of this prison.  It isn¡¯t outside of his expectations, but it is a tad worrisome at the start.


    Now though isn¡¯t the time to think about such things.  Instead, there are two more things on the agenda.  Actually three, if you want to be honest about it. But the third can wait for a while.  In fact it has to wait.  If he acts too quickly or rashly, even with all of his preparations, someone somewhere may be able to catch a sign of his activities, which wouldn¡¯t be a good thing at all.


    Even with his far more powerful body, going against the Concordant Guards by himself would be suicide.  The guards aren¡¯t your run-of-the-mill Star Fighter cultivators.  They are specially trained, prepared, and supplemented soldiers trained to be able to detain the inmates of Concordant Prison themselves.  Quite literally second only to the Black Guard which protects the Concordant Council.  Even the guards with the lowest cultivation are more heavily trained and powerful than other Star Fighters of the same rank.


    It makes them deadly opponents to face in a frontal confrontation.  Which is why Jordan doesn¡¯t plan to let his continued existence become known in any way, shape, or form until the very last moment.  Until he¡¯s ready, and his plans are set in motion.


    Still, that doesn¡¯t mean he plans to slink around like some coward, hiding in the shadows.  Which is why the first thing on his agenda now that his most pressing needs are taken care of is to cultivate.  To start regaining the strength he had previously.


    Astra is everywhere, and permeates everything and every space in the universe.  So even here, in this drab guard station, there¡¯s no reason why he cannot do so.  The only issue is that he doesn¡¯t know how it¡¯s going to work with his new body.  Cultivating as a human is one thing.  Cultivating as a monster could be something else entirely.

 Chapter 2

    Cultivation.  It is both a means and a state of existence.  By using martial arts, meditation, or medication, it allows you to become one with the universe.  Thus letting you draw upon the power of nature around you.


    Or rather, that is what it was once considered.  ¡®Purists¡¯ still consider it to be so.  Modern Galactic society however has come to believe that cultivation is a natural step in evolution.  Any race sufficiently advanced enough to step forth from their home planet and into the galactic scene naturally comes into contact with the forces of the wider universe.


    Rather it be scientific inquiry, psionic training, or any number of other methods, all races eventually come into contact with Astra.  Thus they develop ways to harness Astra for themselves.  This naturally includes cultivation of the individual.  The advantages of introducing it into a population are too great to ignore.


    Which is why every species we¡¯ve ever come into contact has contained cultivators.  Regardless of their natural talents or power levels.  The search for extended lifespans and strength is too irresistible to turn down.


    - Galactic Reliquary, Introduction to Cultivation.


    Cultivation has always been the main crux of society.  Every school kid, regardless of their race or social standing, is introduced to it at a very young age.  Starting from childhood, cultivation is used as a supplement that touches every part of life.  Maybe too much of a person¡¯s life.


    Getting a good job, finding a good spouse, having good kids.  All of these things depend upon cultivation.  It¡¯s the same regardless of rather or not a person becomes a Star Fighter or a scientist or a trader.  Strength has always mattered, and in galactic society, it is even more highly regarded.


    Usually, before a race makes it out into the wider galaxy, the rule of law matters more.  The race has been able to harness the natural resources and energy supplies of their planet.  They no longer have any natural predators.  No reason to grow stronger, unless it is in constant fighting against each other.


    These pre-Galactic races are protected by both Concordant Law and a sort of natural law that exists within the Universe.  The Universe wants these myriad of races to grow along their own, in isolation, so very rarely does one society have any foreknowledge of what is awaiting them in the space beyond their home solar systems.


    This passive defense and isolation however only continues so long as the race remains within the borders of their original solar system.  As soon as they develop any sort of faster-than-light travel, the universal laws that protects them disappear without a trace.  Sad as it is to say, a great many are not prepared to what is awaiting them.  The first trial of which is the galactic radiation.


    X-Rays, Gamma Rays, Microwaves.  All sorts of radiation flood into the newly unprotected solar systems.  Uncontrollable, it changes both the sentient species as well as every living, and in some cases non-living being present during that time.  Extinction events are rare, but one would be surprised at how many ¡®purges¡¯ happen when a society tries to eradicate the ¡®transformed¡¯ members of their species.


    Usually a Concordant Envoy makes it in time to stop such foolishness, but the Milky Way Galaxy itself is massive, so it isn¡¯t always possible to get there in time.  Another problem is the evolution of beasts, demons, devils and the like.  Some races are entirely overrun by rapidly mutated and changed beasts that destroy them utterly before they can respond.


    That is, however, the way the world works.  It¡¯s a natural law of such magnitude that even the huge power known as the Concordant Council can do nothing but lay down rules and laws to stop people from trying to tamper with it.  Non-intervention is the law in this matter.


    That said, most races come out of the trial in far better shape than when they started.  Not that the transition from singular race to just a part of the galactic society is always smooth.  Really, it almost never is.  The rapid changes that happen within these newly unsealed worlds often birth treasures and resources that already established neighbors drool over.  Subjugation is just one option that can happen.  Slavery, or being wiped out entirely can also happen.


    At least until this new race has garnered enough strength to fight back and claim their rightful place.  And that all depends upon cultivation.  The power of a single high ranked cultivator can overturn vast armies and fleets of spaceships.  It¡¯s a very common, if eye-opening sequence of events that has repeated since the galaxy was just forming.


    Cultivation however depends upon the individual.  There¡¯s no ¡®right¡¯ way to cultivate.  While there are manuals and legacies and techniques which can assist, strengthen, or enhance a person''s ability to cultivate, it still all comes down to the person in the end.  The individual.


    In this case, the individual known as Jordan Lockes has shifted into a cross legged position on the plain bunk.  He sets his hands upon his knees, and slowly close his eyes.  His breathing is deep and steady, and his mind has gone still and quiet almost instantly.


    As a human, Jordan was considered to have a decent talent as a cultivator.  His great renown as a scientist far outshadowed that talent however.  The fact that he hadn¡¯t resisted when he¡¯d been captured also served to hide his own great strength.  Too bad by the time he¡¯d learned that things were not what they seemed, it had been far too late to fight back anyway.


    Still, his previous foundation as a cultivator had been about as solid as one could be.  He neither rushed nor dallied along his chosen path.  This gave him quite a bit of experience.  So even though he¡¯s having to start over here, at the absolute lowest ranks, it didn¡¯t bother him too much.


    The only potential problem was that of his body.  It was the wild card that makes even Jordan a bit nervous.  The reason for that is all ¡®human¡¯ cultivators share common traits, regardless of the method or technique they use to cultivate.  Other races also have their own such traits in their cultivation systems.  All of these though have been devised and researched over thousands upon thousands of generations, making them as close to perfect as can be.


    Jordan though will have to literally start from scratch on his own.  It¡¯s an aspect that is both exciting and scary at the same time.  That thrill of excitement and fear rampages around his guts even after he¡¯d already calmed himself down.  It doesn¡¯t seem to want to fade at all, even as he turns his concentration to the first matter at hand.


    The absolute basis of cultivation is the ability to feel Astra.  Astra is everywhere, and exists within all things.  Even the nearly empty void between galaxies, where the massive gravities of the galaxies themselves have pulled nearly every atomic mass to them over time, contains Astra.  As a part of the fabric of reality, Astra truly can be found in all but the most warped or twisted of spaces.


    Thus, the first thing a cultivator has to do is learn how to feel the presence of Astra.  For those with basic, low levels of talent, this can take up to six months.  Even using meditation techniques to clear the mind and help with focusing, it is just that hard to do.  For those with even slightly higher levels of talent though, this process can be greatly sped up.


    As for Jordan, who¡¯d already long ago mastered this part, the only difference is the way this new body of his perceives the world.  Perception changes reality.  This is a principle that has been known for countless ages now.  Some see Astra as great floating clouds.  Others as burning fire.  And other still sense it as even more complex structures.


    In the end though, it doesn¡¯t matter how they sense it.  Only so long as they can.  This is the Astra Sensing level of Cravings rank.  The lowest of the low, and yet the basis of all cultivation.


    Breathing in and out deeply with a steady, constant rhythm, Jordan closes off his normal senses and concentrates on finding the presence of Astra around him.  As his body relaxes further, seeming to almost seem asleep, his perception stretches outward from his mind to touch upon the world around him.  This sort of perception is very weak and fleeting, almost ethereal.


    For Jordan though, this release of his perception is a great boon.  An unexpected gift.  It paints a picture of  the world within his mind''s eye, allowing him to look for details he¡¯d normally miss with his eyes.  It was something he¡¯d spent quite a lot of effort to learn to use before, and he¡¯s quite overjoyed to find that he still has the knack for it.  So much so that he almost knocks himself out of his meditation, much to his chagrin.


    This sort of perception is known as the One Eye.  A technique that uses the will of a cultivator to see the real way the universe works.  This ability allows for far greater range of perception, as well as comprehensive ability.  It also has an enhancing effect on the Cravings rank of cultivation.


    Very, very, extremely few people are born with the innate ability to use the One Eye technique.  Like, one out of ten million humans.  Everyone else has to train to unlock the use of it later.  Those who start out with it are almost always hailed as geniuses that¡¯ll surpass anyone else of the same rank.


    For Jordan though it isn¡¯t that he was born with the ability, but that he¡¯d managed to retain it after dying and being reborn.  The effect will be the same however.  It¡¯ll allow him to reach greater heights faster.


    He ends up taking a little while to calm himself and push the distracting thoughts into the back of his mind.  Centered once more after several minutes of restlessness, he breaths in deeply and blows out like bellows as he focuses his concentration again.  Distraction at this stage will only hinder him.


    Opening his One Eye technique again, he no longer focuses it on the room, but instead disperses his will as a thin film around here.  This film increases his sensitivity to even the smallest things.  A nifty ability when searching for the smallest particle ever found.


    Within only moments he¡¯s able to catch an odd feeling passing through his perception.  Swiftly focusing there, for a long moment he finds nothing before something absolutely tiny appears in his mind.  A tiny mote, a dot, of dim light.  A solitary beacon in the darkness.


    But as Jordan focuses on that mote of light, others appear within his mind as well.  They seem to flash into existence, one after another.  Then rapidly propagate until the entire guard station around him is full to bursting with them.  The Astra flows and meanders, never staying still, and completely unaffected by things such as walls and doors.  The Astra passes through solid matter freely.


    This free floating, raw form of Astra has been called many things by many races over the eons.  Mana.  Yuan Qi.  Elementium.  Different names used to describe the same thing.  For Jordan, now that he is able to sense the Astra around him, he no longer has to focus so hard.  Getting use to the feel of it, soon enough he doesn¡¯t even have to concentrate or think about it in order to feel its soft presence around him.


    Roughly thirty minutes after starting, it could be said that Jordan has mastered the first level of the Cravings rank.  He can freely sense the presence of all the Astra within nearly a hundred yards, or three hundred feet of himself.  Compared to others, it is an absolutely monstrous ability.  Children who just start out on their path of cultivation rarely feel the Astra within a few feet of themselves.  Only someone in the middle ranks of cultivation can feel the Astra within a couple hundred feet of distance.


    This is actually very important, cause the ability to feel or sense the Astra within a given range depicts how much of it a cultivator can gather and absorb at any one time.  It is the pivotal point upon which the next two levels depend upon, and form the basis of cultivation as a whole.  The more a person is able to sense, the more they are able to use!


    For Jordan to be able to sense the Astra within such a huge area is simply unbelievable.  Or would be to others.  For Jordan himself though, it¡¯s actually fairly natural.  Three hundred feet was about the previous range he was able to sense when he was at the peak of his cultivation previously.  To start off at that same level could be considered a boon by the gods.  In truth though it has more to do with his body¡¯s abnormal sensitivity.


    Jordan¡¯s body had literally been reconstructed with absolutely massive quantities of Astra.  Of which the vast majority was stolen from others.  While purity of Astra was the way to go in cultivation, vast quantity is also a quality all of its own.  Even though his body has no free flowing Astra within it, the basis of his body is such that every drop he¡¯d taken before is locked inside of his cells.  Or more accurately, nearly 90 percent of his body is made up of the Astra he¡¯d taken.  And just how a magnet is sensitive to another magnet, his body is extremely sensitive to the Astra around it now.


    When it is all said and done though, just this much isn¡¯t enough to really surprise Jordan.  He¡¯d reached this level before.  It excites him to think that this is his new beginning, but it isn¡¯t a completely alien experience.  The familiarity of it is enough to leave him calm and collected unlike when he found that he still had his One Eye.  He only has to take a few slow breaths to resettle into his meditation, reaching for the second level.


    The second level of the Cravings rank is the real game changer.  The Astra Resonance level is the first true test of any cultivator.  While being able to sense Astra could be considered a heavenly experience, it is rather meaningless if a person isn¡¯t able to control it.  Astra resists almost all attempts to be controlled by man or machine.  Even technology based upon the usage of Astra requires enormous amounts of electrical power before it can tap into the raw Astra.  Much less the limited strength of a person.


    Even the Astra Reactors of starships require nearly full energy stores before they can come online.  It¡¯s like an old fashioned car that requires a jump every time someone tries to turn over the ignition.  Space stations make quite a bit of money off of recharging a ship¡¯s stores if they have had to take their reactors offline for repair or maintenance.


    For a cultivator though, it isn¡¯t about any sort of physical strength.  It¡¯s about the strength of the mind.  Of the will.  All cultivators, big or small, not only cultivate the body, but also the mind.  The Astra Resonance is how they do it.  Being able to reach out with your thoughts to touch the unseen, and thus able to persuade it to do as you desire is the entire principle behind the Astra Resonance Level.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    By becoming one with Astra, a cultivator is able to learn how to use it.  For the common Galactic citizen, this is about as far as they are able to go.  Simply by achieving Astra Sensing level, they gain a bit of strength due to the innate connection that is formed.  But for real cultivators, the Astra Resonance level is considered the true start.  A person who is never able to learn how to control Astra will always remain as a mortal!


    For Jordan however, it could almost be described as a cheat.  Almost as soon as he pushes his will outward from his body, the Astra around him starts to seethe.  Like a bubbling cauldron, the Astra surges and condenses right toward him, creating a massive pressure that causes him to freeze.  He cannot help but grunt, and almost instantly breaks out in a cold sweat as a tsunami-like wave crashes right down upon his body.


    The next moment though leaves him absolutely astonished however.  Because that Astra wave does nothing to him.  As soon as he¡¯d let go of his will, the wave dissipated as if it had never been.  The pressure vanished without a trace, and everything calms down.


    That isn¡¯t to say that there wasn¡¯t any evidence of what just happened though.  All the junk he¡¯d left on the floor and on the bed around him is now scattered all around the room.  Just looking at it wide eyed, Jordan almost cannot believe it.


    Raw Astra is very, very rarely strong or dense enough to affect the physical world.  It is too dispersed, too calm in its free flowing state to do so.  There are some places, rips and tears in reality that causes vortexes of Astra strong enough to rip planets and stars apart, but those places are all well known and documented.  The phantom mass of supermassive black holes are only one such example.


    For it to happen here is the biggest shock Jordan has experienced ever since he started scheming his plans.  If only because of how unbelievable it is.  If that Astra wave had hit him, he¡¯d likely have been flung across the room as well.  Simply astonishing.


    It literally leaves him panting and wide-eyed for several long minutes.  But always the scientist, Jordan soon turns his mind to the issue at hand, not even pausing to catch his breath before delving into it.


    ¡®There was no control there.  Just a summoned mass in response to my call.  Hmmm¡­ backlash, is it?  Too much force of will¡­¡¯  His internal dialogue goes just that way.  As he comes up with a viable reason he starts to calm down, and cannot even help but chuckle to himself.  Wiping the sweat off of his forehead makes him think about when he was a young kid, just starting on his training.  Where the unexplained caused him to freak out.  Which later lead him to seeking all the answers he could as a scientist.


    He chuckles at that line of thought before shaking his head to clear it.  Once more, he slows his breathing and sinks down into the black forgetfulness of his prefered style of meditation.  This time however he doesn¡¯t push as he did before.  Instead, only a tiny sliver of his will reaches out to touch upon the Astra which is still several times denser than it had been before.


    That light touch though still causes a reaction, but just one that isn¡¯t anywhere near as powerful as the previous one.  This time his will calls upon a mass of Astra the size of a fist, which surges toward him like a well placed right hook.  However, Jordan is ready for it, using his light touch of will to force the Astra to disperse before it gets the chance to clobber him.


    There was only the vaguest sense of control in that one, but it is far better than before.  And also proves his own hypothesis.  The Astra is naturally drawn to him.  But that¡¯s basically saying that too much of a good thing is a bad thing.  If he tried with the entirety of his will at this stage, the roaring Astra that he summons up would scatter him to bits.


    It is a bloody thought that both scares and excites him.  It is not the sort of power a Cravings ranked cultivator should have.  Or a Foundations rank, for that matter.


    Still, it isn¡¯t the sort of thing that makes him want to give up.  Far from it.  So for the next three hours, he does what he does best.  He experiments.  During that time, Jordan literally tries everything he can think of.  He disperses his will as fine as he can.  He creates large bursts that he then lets go of.  He tests the various causes and effects that come from it.


    After that time though, he comes up with a solution that gives him the balance he needs.  He splits his will into tiny countless threads, and then spreads them out as far as his perception will let him.  He literally fills the full three hundred foot radius around him with the lightest of touches.


    It¡¯s a totally different way of doing it that would leave others flabbergasted.  But it is the only way he found that gives him the control he requires.  He literally creates a 3-dimensional spiderweb in the shape of a sphere with his will.  Constantly touching, feeling, controlling every speck of Astra within his range.


    Sadly, he finds that the constant manipulation of his will in such a way takes a very heavy toll upon him.  He¡¯s only able to maintain it for about five minutes before he has to withdraw his will quickly once the Astra starts to rampage at the fridges.  It leaves him both gasping for breath and once more feeling utterly drained.


    ¡°Damn¡­ Just what the hell is going on here?¡±  Jordan cannot help but mutter to himself in a croaking voice as he takes the time to catch his breath.  Soon after, he has to wobble his way to gozzle down more water, then go hunt for food and nutrients for his stomach.  Once again he scatters the garbage around him, and looks quite forlornly at the empty vials of Soldier Pills.


    He¡¯d ended up eating them all before he felt strong and stable again.  There wasn¡¯t a single Soldier Pill left in the entire guard station.  What would have lasted twenty people at least a week was downed by him in a mere span of hours.  If anyone else were to witness it, they¡¯d die from the shock.


    To Jordan however it presents a very big problem.  He knew his body would be high-spec, and thus high maintenance, but he never once suspected it would be so over the top.  Just the cost in soldier pills that he¡¯d consumed would bankrupt any regular low-level Star Fighter.  Too an organization like the Concordant Guard, it¡¯s a trifling sum, but for everyone else it¡¯s far too much.


    Spending a few minutes to adjust his plans in his head, he realizes that he¡¯s going to be far more active than he¡¯d wanted.  His original plan called for him to lay low and build up his foundation while waiting for his chance to escape.  But now things are different.  He¡¯ll have to get out and about in order to gather the resources he needs.  On top of not knowing how much time he has.  His plans have already been set in motion, and there¡¯s no way to pause them now.


    ¡°Tsk.¡±  Jordan cannot help but click his tongue before he shakes his head and smiles a bit in self-ridicule.  ¡°Not every plan survives¡­¡±


    Setting it aside after considering his next steps, he once more calms himself and slowly spreads out his awareness.  Following soon after his will is dispersed, which is a bit easier than the previous time, and soon enough he¡¯s able to feel his control of the Astra around him.  At the same time though he can feel the time limit he has before he loses control again, and thus decides to skip the expert control that most have to gain during the Astra Resonance level.


    The natural draw of his body will just have to be his primary control at the moment, and as he slowly relaxes his will, the Astra starts to be drawn toward him in a steady, if rapid twinkle.  He does however keep it under a tight leash, not letting it become agitated or fierce as it is drawn toward his body, which would make it impossible to absorb.  However, even he couldn¡¯t describe the feeling that comes from him as the first thin threads of Astra enters his pores.


    The feeling is utterly indescribable.  Like taking the first long breath after being underwater for ages.  Like having the first full meal after being starved.  Or holding a beautiful woman in your arms for the first time.  So much so that even as all of Jordan¡¯s pores open up, he cannot help but let out a groan in pleasure.


    The feeling is so vastly different from his previous experiences with cultivation that he doesn¡¯t even notice that as the Astra is drawn into his body, it all but disappears.  Not a wiff of it remains.  His cells are so hungered that they devoured it completely, leaving not a speck behind.


    It isn¡¯t until the feeling starts to dull after drawing in several more strands of Astra does he finally come back to reality.  Uses his senses to feel his body, he¡¯s quite surprised to find that there is no Astra inside of him.  None at all.  Every drop of it had disappeared as if into a black hole!


    The shock is enough to cause him to have a momentary lapse in control of his will, once more causing the Astra within his area to boil up in a frenzy.  It surges, and the shockwave is too close and too fast for him to regain control before it hits him like a solid block of stone.


    The blow is enough to cause his mind to shake and the bunk underneath him to shatter, knocking him to the floor.  However, the physical pain of being hit by such a great backlash doesn¡¯t occur.  Instead the Astra is drawn into his eager body without any hint of control.  Instead, it is all gobbled up nearly instantly, causing him to feel none of the pressure that would cause other cultivators to black out.


    This reality, which is utterly beyond Jordan¡¯s comprehension, completely shatters the remaining will that he¡¯d managed to keep in check.  Regardless of being tossed around like a rag doll across the floor, soon enough the entire guard station is a howling whirlwind of Astra that all but screams as it is drawn to Jordan like a magnet.  And it doesn¡¯t seem to matter just how much is pulled in, cause as soon as it touches his body it¡¯s completely and utterly absorbed.


    At the same time, that pleasurable feeling has returned with full force.  Utter bliss which nearly wipes all conscious thought away.  In a way, it¡¯s almost better than sex as every cell within his body continuously sends out pleasurable signals as they gobble up something that had been completely lacking.


    In truth, the lack of Astra was the biggest reason for Jordan¡¯s near-lethargy.  His body is not a true biological thing.  It is not natural.  It cannot survive on water and food alone.  His biological parts cannot produce enough energy all their own to maintain the proper functions of the non-biological parts.  Which explains why he is able to go through so many supplements and so much food.


    But Astra is a form of pure energy.  Once absorbed, it can be used to unleash massive amounts of power, of energy..  Which is why cultivators are ranked based on how much Astra they have inside their bodies.  The more Astra, the more powerful they are.


    Without having to use his conscious will to control the Astra, Jordan is able to absorb massive quantities of Astra without a break.  Eventually it reaches the point where he¡¯s no longer being pushed around by the utterly wild flows as well.  The fact that by this time he¡¯s already up against the wall and squeezed into a corner doesn¡¯t matter.  However, the fact that the Astra has become unnaturally thin within the three hundred feet radius of his control doesn¡¯t escape him either.  Or the fact that the pleasure he¡¯s feeling from it is lessening very quickly.


    By the time the Astra has become almost non-existent within his space, Jordan is feeling better than he ever had before.  He felt strong, and clear headed.  Looking inside of himself, each and every one of his cells, starting from his skin inward shines like tiny stars all of their own.  Sadly, while his skin layer is almost completely full, the deeper parts of his body are far less full.  They are that much dimmer within his sight.


    Also, there still isn¡¯t even a speck of loose Astra within him either.  With it all trapped inside of his cells, there isn¡¯t any way to use it for techniques or arts.  This leaves him with little choice but to use his physical body if he gets into a fight.


    On the other side of the coin, he does notice that he isn¡¯t required to refine the Astra he absorbs.  Refining Astra is actually the more time consuming step of the whole process of cultivation.  A Star Fighter is not able to use the Astra they absorb unless it is refined, or attuned to that person.  Thus Star Fighters rarely absorb more than they can refine at any given time, vastly limiting how much they can take in or how fast they can progress.


    This brings a wide, eager grin to Jordan¡¯s face, cause removing that limit removes one of the biggest hurdles he has of regaining his former power quickly.  Refining is limited to the talent of the cultivator as well as various aspects of their body.  Drawing in too much uncontrollable Astra can cause vast amounts of damage inside the body.  The fact that Jordan¡¯s body doesn¡¯t require this step at all is another considerable boon.


    This gift though has a very obvious downside that causes Jordan¡¯s brows to press together once he starts to think about it.  Mainly his lack of control.  Controlling raw, unrefined is several times, hundreds of times harder than controlling refined Astra.  His obvious lack of progress in the Astra Resonance level is a blatant example.  It could prove quite a huge hinderance until he¡¯s skillful enough to do it as easily as breathing.


    Jordan will require continuous fine, real-time control of the Astra.  Just like a computer, in a way.  Continuous, feedback based control.  Ugh.  Just thinking of how much mental effort is required for something like that draws thick black lines across his forehead.


    For how though that doesn¡¯t matter.  There isn¡¯t enough Astra remaining in the area for him to continue his cultivation.  Nor is there enough food and soldier pills remaining for him to wait for the Astra to replenish itself.  He¡¯ll have to move, and quickly.


    Before that though, as he glances down at himself, another shower is definitely required.  All the garbage has splattered him with all manner of remnant food stuffs.  Also, a change of clothing would be nice.  The towel from his previous shower has been flung somewhere else, leaving him rather naked.  Not the most presentable way to show himself to the outside world.