《The Nightwyrms' Nemesis [Dark Dystopic Sci-Fi]》


 Ch 01 - Revelations

    Kiri''s eyes had barely closed. She had hardly gotten any sleep over the last few days. Even for the brief moments when her torturers would leave her alone, the echoes of clanging machinery and shrieking construction gear wouldn''t let her be in peace. The acrid stench of rust and decay was no help either.


    But her dehydrated, exhausted body was bleeding from numerous wounds and it could only bear so much. So as she stared at the growing pool of grime and blood on the cold concrete floor below, the world gradually got darker and blurrier.


    Alas, this reprieve too was short lived. Unnoticed, two figures fully covered in long white suits silently emerged from the doorway, and a switch on the control panel in the corner was flipped on. The effect was instantaneous - a sharp bolt of electricity coursed through Kiri and her eyes shot open. With a piercing scream, she pulled on her chains as her body convulsed and jerked, the links biting into her fragile flesh. Her limbs, extended and bound by rusted iron chains, spasmed for next several minutes, every muscle clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to escape the agony.


    "Can you... please... fucking ... stop this!" Kiri yelled. "I have already told you everything."


    "I don''t believe you." The husky female voice shot back. "This will not end, Kiri. Not until you tell us the truth. Where were you between 5th to 10th of July."


    This had been Kiri''s routine for the last several days. She had long lost the exact count of days passed in this dark chamber, where the only light came from the ominous glow of the one single bulb, which casted long, twisted shadows that danced upon the cold, damp walls.


    "Again." The woman clad in white addressed the figure accompanying her. Kiri had heard the man speak only once. Also garbed in an identical suit, even though this man sported a seven-foot tall stature and an immense muscular frame, somehow the lithe woman still managed to have a more terrifying presence. Every word, every motion of her body marked her a predator.


    As the man adjusted the wires attached to the metal probes, the air began to crackle with an electric charge yet again. "You can''t keep doing this," Kiri pleaded, "The Protectorate would be looking for me. The Academy would have noticed my absence by now." Getting every word out was a struggle, and by the time she finished, she could feel her fatigue reaching its limits.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Yes, indeed." The woman''s words were laced with anger, "How do you think the Protectorate will react when they hear about your association with Helicon rebels." Kiri''s heart raced as the ominous hum of the generator picked up again, its menacing rumble growing louder with each passing moment.


    "What?" she gasped, her throat choking.


    "Yes, we know about your past."


    This should not have been possible. Kiri''s sponsors had spent an insane amount of money to ensure that she passed through the extensive scrutiny of the Illustrious Academy. And she had.


    "I know what you are wondering. We have deep pockets, Kiri." The undertone of satisfaction was now evident in her voice. She was close to cracking Kiri and she knew it. "We have enough resources to dismantle your entire stupid rebellion. We just haven''t had a good reason to look in that direction yet."


    She grabbed Kiri''s chin and lifted her up. She could now make out the outline of her assailant''s face behind the dark glass mask. The enraged eyes bore into her. "We are not interested in you. Your stupid ambitions mean nothing to us. We are only interested in the murder."


    "What murder?" Kiri whimpered.


    The response was a straight punch to her stomach. A swift and brutal motion that knocked out her breath and sent out a fresh wave of agony through her already battered body.


    "Did you really expect us to fall for that fake setup? Yeah, it was elaborate, I''d give you that. But it wasn''t enough."


    The words seemed more and more distant, and Kiri felt her grasp on reality slipping. She had no idea how things had gone so horribly wrong. Her vision was increasingly blurry and pain was ripping through every inch of her existence.


    "No, no... You don''t get to pass out on me." The woman yanked her arm, and forcefully injected a vial into her vein. "I need you sharp."


    She backhanded Kiri''s already bruised jaw in one savage motion. The air was once again filled with the guttural sounds of Kiri''s anguished screams. "I need you to tell me what exactly happened."


    Kiri could not resist anymore. Her face contorted in an expression of sheer torment, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block out the relentless onslaught of suffering. She had no idea who these people were, but if they already knew about her past, she didn''t know what she was fighting for anymore. If this woman said that she could dismantle her rebellion, Kiri believed her.


    "We found a planet." Kiri submitted to the torment. "Uncharted."


    The woman grabbed her face with an iron grip. "What planet? What was there?" The layer of insulation on her hand offered no comfort in the way of padding.


    "Nightwyrms." Kiri forced through clenched teeth, and her body slumped.


    Those golden eyes, inches away from her face, would continue to haunt Kiri for years to come. But nothing could match the terror incited by the eldritch horror she had faced on that unnamed planet three months ago.

 Ch 02 - The Forgotten Ziggurat

    (Three months earlier)


    "By the God King, we actually found it." Remus exclaimed.


    The winds of the obsidian sandstorm howled around them like a thousand furious beasts as the trio descended into the dark, icy desert. The weather was not a surprise, though; they had known about the fiendish ambiance of Sardus Arcemius and had come prepared. Or so they thought.


    Half a league in front of them, the old, strangely curved, dilapidated towers formed a circular perimeter around the humongous black pyramidal structure. The complex had been the single most prominent construction on the planet, visible even from outer space.


    "Watch out." Kiri yelled. Remus had a barely landed on the dark sandy surface. A huge boulder came rolling towards him, propelled by the winds.


    Remus had already let go of the hoist rope. He was essentially in free fall now. He had only one choice left - he activated the lowermost thrusters in his suit. Kiri figured that he was planning to bounce off the surface, but also realized that he wouldn''t be able to make it in time. She had more on-field experience. Before Nasdaal, her home world, was brought under Irvanian rule, military service had been mandatory for all youth.


    Grasping her hoisting chord tightly, she swiveled, and activating the forward propellants in her suite, she pushed herself towards Remus. Norman, startled, asked on the comm from behind, "Kiri what are you doing?"


    Remus landed on the dark sandy surface with a crunchy thud, and realized his mistake immediately. The boulder was already there right in front of him. Though his thrusters had warmed up by now, and he had already activated an upward push, he won''t be able to make it in time. He had underestimated the velocity of the speeding rock. But Kiri reached him at that exact moment.


    Amping up her forward thrusters, she grabbed Remus''s hand, and diverted him away from the incoming boulder. Their combined momentum was enough to change their trajectory. The boulder missed them by several feet.


    But they were soon about to realize that their misfortune was only just beginning. The boulder, now several feet away, changed its trajectory.


    "This is not right." Norman''s voice was cold as always, but stress was evident in his voice. "It can''t possibly be propelled just by the winds."


    The boulder arced and now was once again speeding towards them. It also seemed to have gained velocity. "We are being targeted?"


    "I am sure of it." Norman hastily pulled open a defensive shield launcher from his backpack. The huge jagged obsidian stone was barely twenty feet away now. As he activated the device, a light blue hemispherical shield popped up in front of them.


    "This will stop it right?" Remus was gasping for air, breathing heavily.


    "Unlikely. This is not military grade equipment."


    "What?" Remus was surprised. Military grade equipment required strictly regulated licenses for expedition guilds or imperial armada. And the trio here were students - the Magisterium made it almost impossible for civilians to get hold of advanced gear.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The boulder hit. Its momentum was arrested, but not completely. The shield lit up brighter, and even though it padded the impact they were pushed back several feet.


    "Prepare to flank" Kiri activated the lasers on her suit, and with a soft whir the long green lights attached to the arms of the suit lit up. Panting and out of breath, Remus took position on the other side. Norman had to stay in the center to keep the protective dome steady. Visibly strained now, the surface flickered as the boulder continued to push through.


    Remus and Kiri activated their lasers, and streams of green light assaulted the boulder from two sides. The bright glow lit up the dark, and when the boulder''s surface was illuminated, Norman''s suspicions were confirmed.


    On the surface of the rock, letters were carved. Unmistakable, Old Yaskhin text. Any lingering doubt in Norman''s mind that this boulder could be a natural construct, evaporated.


    "It''s a warning..." Norman barely managed to get the words out, when the rock was shattered under the onslaught of two heavy duty lasers. They had managed to fracture the rock, but hadn''t thought it through. A hail of smaller stones and particles rained over them.


    Thankfully their dark metallic suits took bulk of the brunt. But one large chunk directly landed on Kiri''s foot. She let out a scream.


    "Kiri, you ok?" Remus reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder before she could topple.


    "Yes, Give me a minute."


    "We may not have that kind of time." Norman intoned. A rumbling could be heard in the distance. Norman adjusted the long range scope in his suites. Sure enough, there was another boulder approaching them. They had now crossed the broken circle of ruined towers. The dark, sloping wall was only a few hundred feet away from them.


    "We need to head back." Remus pleaded, "This place is dangerous."


    "Yes, but we need to take shelter off the ground first. Otherwise we''ll never be able to make it."


    Norman agreed with Kiri. "We had thought these boulders were just natural rocks being hurled around. But now I am sure they are part of ancient defenses."


    "What?" Neither of them had noticed the letters carved on the rock surface. And Norman didn''t blame them. The Yaskin text shared no lineage with any human language and almost nobody in their current generation could read it without help from a translator.


    "There were Yaskh warnings carved on the surface. We need to get off the ground now."


    Of course, in this wasteland, off the ground could mean only one thing. Up on the steps of the Ziggurat.


    They quickly and carefully secured a makeshift harness around Kiri, and pushed through the vicious storm. Soon the steep walls of the ancient pyramid was upon them. The second rumbling boulder too was now only a dozen or so feet away. It had been a close call the last time and none of them were too keen to try their fates again. They had no idea how many of these things were around.


    They hastily adjusted their climbing gear and began to scale the steep wall. Just as they were barely five feet above ground, the boulder smashed onto the surface with a thunderous sound. Even a few seconds delay would have seen them crushed.


    "What the hell is going on here?" Remus collapsed on the first of the steps.


    Kiri brought out a first aid kit and started tending to her foot. Taking apart her shoe, she lathered her foot with a foamy disinfectant gel.


    Norman pulled up a snapshot of the writing on the boulder recorded by the cams on his suit. Zooming into the letters on his tablet, he showed it to his companions. He may have recognized the Yaskin text, but translating it accurately was a different matter. The on-device translator too had difficulty translating its exact meaning.


    "Warning...Observatory terminated|sealed|shut...Access attempt violate imperial mandate..."


    They gaped at each other. "How are these machines still functioning? This structure is, what, two million years old?"


    "And surprisingly sturdy for its age." Norman turned its attention towards the ziggurat itself. The ancient stone walls were almost entirely unscathed. They had expected dilapidated ruins, if they were lucky. Not a fortress with active defenses.


    "Let''s head back up then?" Remus''s voice was almost pleading. He looked towards Kiri. She had finished bandaging her leg after cleaning off the wounded skin. The suit would help support her, but Remus knew walking about in this difficult terrain was going to be painful for her.


    "There seems to be some interference." The device was not able to connect to the locator on their ship up in the orbit.


    "Guys, I don''t want to sound alarming, but that looks dangerous." They turned in the direction Remus was pointing, and in the distant north there was a barely discernible outline of a hurricane. It was far and challenging to make out in the dust all around them, but they were sure it hadn''t been there before. Which meant it was likely headed in their direction.

 Ch 03 - The Para-dimensional Conduit

    Adjusting his scope for long range vision, Norman analyzed the incoming hurricane and exclaimed, "Our suits may not be able to offer enough protection against that."


    "We need to find a way in, and fast." Norman sat down and pulled out a transparent package from his backpack.


    Inside the pack were numerous gleaming golden trinkets that looked like metallic bugs. As he tapped each one of them, they beeped, came to life and dispersed around the building.


    "Norman, I don''t think we have the time for path crawlers to find a way in." Kiri exclaimed. "The hurricane will be upon us."


    "It looks closer than it actually is. And I am sure that is what is causing the interference with our locator. We need to wait it out inside. We don''t have any other choice." Norman released the critters.


    Norman propped up his tablet and started monitoring the sensors. As the critters crawled through the outer surface of the pyramid, exploring every nook and corner, a holographic image of the structure began to take shape above the glass surface of the tablet. After about twenty minutes, a faint ding alerted them.


    "We found an entrance?" Kiri exclaimed.


    "A hatch. Though it looks closed from the inside, we should be able to break in. The issue though is that it is another seventy feet above us. We need to scale another step." The others sighed. This was going to be one crazy long day.


    Over the next half an hour, following the directions from their mobile sensors, they reached the section of the wall where four of the small skitters had found a hidden entrance. At first glance, the surface looked like a continuous wall, but after close inspection, a tightly sealed outline of a hatch could be inferred.


    The second climb had been taxing for all of them, and they sat down, resting. From this height, the vast, sprawling desert around them was almost mesmerizing in the dim morning light. With the wind continuously stroking and reshaping the surrounding dunes, the landscape was almost alive. Remus and Norman, over the next twenty minutes, managed to use a high-precision laser cutter to drill around the edges of the opening.


    "Is it even legal for us to just waltz into something like this?" Remus forced himself to ask.


    "Of course not. We are required to report any unregistered settlement''s location to the Protectorate immediately under the galactic law." Kiri just shrugged.


    Remus cursed under his breath - as the Senator''s son, anything illegal would reflect badly not only on him but also on his father. Being part of the Magisterium meant that their every action, every word uttered in public, was always under scrutiny. And Senator Greymus was not a forgiving person. Even to his own family. Especially to his own family. "And why does that not appear to be a part of our plan?"


    "If we report it, the Protectorate will block all access to the structure until their investigators have deemed the place safe. And the semester will be long over before that can happen." Remus sighed inward yet again; maybe the safety regulations were there for a reason.


    "And given the academy''s conservative stance against the essence-harvesting studies that Yaskh specialized in, I doubt students like us would ever get access." Norman concluded in his usual nonchalant tone that Remus always found so infuriating. But, as always, he suppressed his discontent.


    He had given up any hope of coming up with a novel dissertation. At least one that would satisfy the rigorous scrutiny of the pedantic scholarch of the Illustrious Academy. And his father would never forgive him if he continued to flounder in the most prestigious as well as the most brutal educational institution in the Irvanian Empire. The God King himself was an alumnus of the Academy, and in the centuries after his rise to power, the Academy, along with the Protectorate and the Magisterium, had grown into the three most powerful institutions that served as the foundational pillars of the Irvanian empire. It was an unwritten rule that anyone with political ambition had to have an excellent track record at the Academy.


    Remus was pulled back from his self-loathing by a heavy thud. The hinges had been dismantled and the stone gate had fallen in.


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    The first thing they noticed coming inside was a thick gray-white powder that covered all surfaces like a blanket of fresh snow.


    "The dust is not the same sand as outside". Remus used his gloved finger to pick up a small sample. "It is most certainly..." He inspected the material through his scope, "... ash. But strange - the scope can''t identify the original material at all."


    Their scuttlers were now crawling around throughout the interior of the pyramid looking for structures of significance. Among the many floors they had traversed, there was no trace of anything hostile inside, so they decided to make best use of their time and ventured in.


    As they walked through a maze of interlinked corridors for the better part of the next two hours, investigating any and all items of interest, it became increasingly obvious that the ziggurat had been constructed inside-out, layer by layer. The inner rooms and corridors were a lot older than the outer ones, and the texture and composition of walls differed.


    The walls were thick obsidian, the outer ones being several feet in thickness. Even the inner ones were seldom less than a foot thick. Curiously, every wall had a transparent tube running across the ceiling, half embedded in stone. Their scopes had difficulty analyzing the inner composition of the walls completely, but they did indicate the presence of wiring and some advanced construction within the walls, which was at least a bit exciting. Had the place been something of purely religious or ritualistic significance, the long and expensive journey would have been totally wasted. After all, their end goal was to gather useful insights about Yaskh technology. None of them were historians.


    Many of the rooms had work-desks with prehistoric computer terminals that had long crumbled under the onslaught of time. The many documents, jars and boxes on the shelves were all far beyond redemption. Even though the ash was everywhere, no skeletons or remains of Yaskh residents were visible - which bothered them.


    After a brief pause for refreshments and another four hours of careful exploration guided by their scuttlers, they found themselves in another larger room, two floors below. In the center of the room was a hollowed-out cylindrical glass column with a clearly demarcated entrance. The large room was otherwise full of thousands of shelves, arranged in concentric circular patterns, containing rows upon rows of square glass plates similar to one Norman had pulled out from one of the terminals above - storage slabs.


    The glass column in the center resembled the kind of cylinders commonly used in laboratories or aquariums to showcase exotic aquatic creatures, but this one was empty and open.


    Norman busied himself with a partially hidden cabinet in a corner, which the scuttlers indicated to be the junction point of numerous buried cables. Eventually, he found a small lever. As he pulled it down, the room was bathed in a pale blue glow. "This place has working electricity." Kiri gasped.


    That was a surprise for everyone. The scuttlers still hadn''t found the bottom of the building. There were at least ten other floors under them, extending deep below the sand surface. Despite being humongous on the outside, the group had severely underestimated the size of the structure.


    Norman continued to explore the contraption, "This system is quite fascinating. I think the tubes that we have been looking at are conduits for a luminescent algal solution. The conduits around the complex have clogged over the years, but this place had a backup in place."


    "So it is not really electric lighting?" Kiri was awed by the thick tubes that formed a geometric tapestry across the ceiling.


    "Well, electricity is involved in some way, but I think it''s just to keep the liquid at the right temperature." After some careful maneuvering to partially unlatch one of the junction points, Norman managed to pull out a small vial of the liquid, which he sealed and placed in his pack. "This algae is worth investigating."


    After that, they shifted their focus to the surrounding room. "There is practically a lifetime worth of research material just lying here." This was one of the rarest times when Norman''s voice was not his usual monotone, and something resembling awe could be inferred.


    Once illuminated, quite a bit of symbols could be seen carved on the dark walls in different parts of the room. She activated the translator on her tablet and held up the transparent slab against some of the written words. The translator also confirmed that a faded sign on one of the walls near the entrance, now visible, translated to Archive or Repository.


    "We have here, a strong warning against unauthorized access. What looks like some kind of threat if the..." Remus had also activated his translator and was inspecting the big, bold messages near the glass column. "...Para-dimensional Wyrm-field conduit is used without permission from ...some kind of authority figure." The translator could not disambiguate the designation.


    None of them had any idea what a para-dimensional conduit was. For all they knew, it could just be a glitchy translation. But the world wyrm caught their interest. After all, that was their original goal: to investigate what Nightwyrms were and why they were so central to ancient Yaskh culture. There were many treatises from Yaskh era that dealt with the topic of commerce or science, and most of them referenced Nightwyrms in some or the other context, yet their nature and existence were shrouded in mystery.


    While Remus and Kiri tried to look around to find any salvageable device that could be used to decipher the contents of these storage slabs, Norman spent most of the next hour inspecting and attempting to unravel the derelict mechanical controls around the cylinder. By the time he finished manually connecting many of the damaged wires, replacing the ones totally beyond redemption and reinforcing the others where necessary, he was bathed in sweat - the room had absolutely no ventilation and was increasingly stifling. Once he was completely satisfied with his repairs, he activated the current flow, and with a soft thrum, the glass column lit up from the inside. After a few seconds of silence, the construct beeped loudly. Remus and Kiri looked up from their tablets and glanced at each other.


    After a couple of minutes of deliberation, they decided to test it out with a small fruit from their diminishing food supply. As they put it down on the floor inside the column and carefully stepped away, Norman activated one of the controls that was indicated with the Yaskh symbol for initiation or commencement. The hue of the lighting changed, and the glass column rotated to reveal two concentric layers. Once the inner layer had rotated to completely block out the opening, with a snap, the column sealed itself completely shut, and the hue changed yet again. Finally, the floor began to buzz, and the apple was slowly pulled down into the darkness.


    They had almost lost sight of the apple descending into the depths completely, when suddenly a thick wire emerging from the side of the cylinder burst into sparks and an intense burning smell spread out through the room.


    A moment later, everything went dark.

 Ch 04 - Mystery of the void

    It only lasted a few minutes. The lights came back on their own.


    Norman spent another couple of minutes inspecting the wires, eventually concluding that they were not in immediate danger. One of the control wires had burned out, but a safeguard had kicked in in time and prevented the core unit from overloading.


    The cylinder had sustained some minor damage, though; it tried to unlock, then failed, then tried again, emitting a low hiss and clack on every attempt again and again. To be on the safe side, Norman cut the power to the device, and the contraption froze completely.


    Kiri''s focus was elsewhere though. "This is rather odd." When she handed over her tablet to Norman, his frown deepened too. They didn''t have any clue on where their apple had gone. They had scuttlers positioned on the floor below, but those hadn''t detected any motion whatsoever. The room directly under them was as empty as it had been before. "Some kind of hidden passage between the floors?" Remus mused. What none of them paid attention to was that the platform that had gone down with the apple, hadn''t returned. And the contraption had failed to seal itself completely.


    "That is what I thought, but the beacon I had injected into the apple has completely disappeared. None of our sensors, either in this room or the one below are not able to detect it now. That beacon should be detectable even from outer space." Kiri furiously tapped through the monitoring controls to identify if there was anything she had missed.


    "So, you are saying it got destroyed when it was pulled in?" Remus suggested the obvious. Kiri was not convinced. "It''s as if it just ceased to exist at one point. That is typically not how electronic malfunctions happen; our sensors didn''t detect any kind of electrical surge or overheating." All the sensor graphs projected in front of them had abruptly flat-lined at the same point.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    After having another round of hurried refreshments, they decided that, given the state of their dwindling supplies, a prolonged stay in this place was not the best option. They directed their scuttlers to converge at their current location and started packing up as many of the storage slabs as their travel bags could accommodate safely. They would try to analyze the data stores from their ship waiting in orbit above and come back if they managed to decipher some concrete information about what the para-dimensional Wyrm-field actually was. None of them were particularly excited to venture into an unknown abyss of darkness. They thought they were playing it safe.


    Two more hours later, Kiri found that she was now reaching her limits.


    Many of their expensive scuttlers were yet to return, and Norman and Remus were engaged in a light debate on whether an expert on modern digital archiving algorithms could help with their work on deciphering these data slabs.


    As it so happened, Garvin Schiller - an incredibly talented computer scientist from their batch, spent his last dissertation exploring higher compression density for long-term storage. His results had astonished even the experts in the space by increasing the compression ratios of existing hardware by 200% while retaining the current price point of manufacturing. He now had a long-term contract from the Protectorate to develop his techniques further.


    Kiri sat down, leaning on one of the many pillars, and her eyes began to drift into sleep, and fatigue took over. Norman and Remus continued to discuss whether Garvin would be better suited for a career in the Protectorate or in industrial research. Between her throbbing foot and the vast size of the ziggurat, the last few hours had been incredibly exhausting, though she had tried her best not to show it. The metallic suit didn''t do anything to make life easier, either.


    After spending another fifteen minutes waiting for the five last missing scuttlers, Remus decided to cut losses and move on. They had only a few hours of night left, and nobody wanted to stay stuck here for another full day. Given the planet''s weather, navigating out in the daylight was simply not an option. When he turned to the corner to wake up Kiri, his eyes widened and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

 Ch 05 - Threads of darkness

    As he froze in place, Norman too noticed, "Why did you..." His voice died in his throat as he looked at Kiri.


    Kiri hadn''t noticed that, at some point, her bandage had loosened. A few droplets of blood had trickled out and pooled under her feet as she slept. And something had followed that blood from the hole that they had left open.


    Dark vines had emerged from the partially locked glass column, and winding around the nearby shelves, they had made their way to Kiri, who still slept. A small mass of writhing, undulating tentacles now covered her foot, each one covered in slimy, iridescent scales that shimmered in the dim light.


    Remus''s lips moved but no sound came out. His chest tightened and throat went dry. Finally as he saw a small black tendril reach into Kiri''s mouth, he mustered up the courage and yelled. "KIRI, WAKE UP!!!"


    Kiri didn''t need a second call. Her eyes shot open, and the moment she saw the abomination snaking around her, she activated the lasers on her suit. The green lights on her arms flared up, striking an eerie contrast against the dark tendrils that immediately took notice and wildly swayed and whipped - as if being twisted by an imaginary wind.


    Forcing herself up, she tried to pull her leg free and shot at the dark tentacles again and again. The dark vines rippled around her shots, and instead of receding, the tendrils thickened. Soon there was a stream of darkness pouring out from the column.


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    The fluid stream branched out into an ever-growing swarm of tentacles that lashed at her and around her. As Kiri wildly thrashed about, tentacles coiling around her body like a vice, her laser tore through numerous racks. Norman and Remus scrambled to move themselves out of the way. As the quiet place devolved into a pandemonium, the glass column too shattered into a thousand pieces as a beam pierced it through.


    Kiri was dragged through the floor, littered with shattered glass, towards the hole. The enraged swarm of tentacles tore through her armor, and her screams echoed through the cavernous room as her legs scraped against the sharp fragments, leaving a trail of dark blood behind. The shards of glass crunched and splintered under her frantic struggles, and her shrieks echoed through the empty space like the cacophony of a thousand nightmares.


    In that panicked moment, Remus did something he had never thought he would be capable of. He ran after her, guns blazing.


    Unlike Kiri''s standard-issue I-298 laser launcher, Remus''s suite was equipped with a military-grade flamethrower. A blazing white flame bathed whatever remained of the glass column before Kiri could be pulled in.


    With a piercing screech, the creature pulled back, twisting Kiri''s leg in a single bone-breaking motion as a parting gesture. After Kiri''s screams and the flames died down, and the mayhem quietened, Norman looked around at the mess left behind. Where the glass column had been, there was now a crater that opened into a dark abyss.


    "What the hell was that?" Kiri asked incredulously. Her leg was profusely bleeding and was twisted at an unnatural angle. She had to struggle against the pain to get each word out.


    "Oh, this baby here is an M-389 heavy-duty blasteron. I have seen that flame tear through a three-foot-thick, solid metal wall. Whatever that fucker was, it didn''t stand a chance. My dad had to pull plenty of strings to procure this beast from the Protectorate." The grin and his deep faith in his father''s acumen stayed plastered on Remus''s face as a single tentacle shot out from the hole and tore through his confidence in Protectorate weaponry. And his throat.


    Splattered in a fountain of blood, Kiri had already passed out.


    Only Norman stayed standing, frozen still, to witness the thing that emerged from the hole.

 Ch 06 - Muddled Plans

    (Two weeks earlier)


    "You had assured that this would work!" Remus''s face was flushed scarlet. Celine meowed in protest. Norman''s cat hated loud people. It had never been a problem until they invited in Remus.


    "You need to calm down. There is always some uncertainty involved when you are navigating unexplored frontiers." Kiri pleaded, stroking Celine''s glossy black fur. She moaned some more and then settled into her lap. She may have technically been Norman''s cat; she had taken a special liking to Kiri.


    While Remus paced nervously, Kiri and Norman were casually sitting on couches in a loft in the academy. Like most of the academy, this room was spacious, minimally decorated and comfortable. The walls, painted in a soothing shade of cream, stretch up towards the ceiling, creating an expansive and inviting atmosphere. They had met here multiple times over the course of last month, and tensions had escalated with each meeting.


    "We could not have foreseen that the tome was incomplete." The tablet in front of them projected annotated stacks of several pages restored from an old Yaskin treatise.


    Over the last few centuries, the Irvanian Empire had discovered millions of wormholes littered across the galaxies the empire was spread over. Using these wormholes was trivial - any spacecraft that passed through found themselves in a different part of the universe, sometimes many light years away. However, the knowledge of how to construct these wormholes had remained out of their reach.


    Not only did the Irvanian academic elite have no idea how to construct similar wormholes, they also had no knowledge of who had constructed the ones that existed. The leading theory hypothesized that the long-ascended Yaskh civilization were the original pioneers, but that theory too had many holes. Most of the technological advancements of Yaskh happened around the war of Herostus, whereas the old relics indicated that the wormholes had existed centuries before that.


    A lot of deep space commerce heavily relied on wormholes to reduce journeys that would otherwise take multiple years to mere seconds. If anyone in the present-day world cracked the ability to construct wormholes, they would be richer beyond their wildest dreams.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    In the long term, Norman''s ambition was to decipher the ancient knowledge of wormhole fabrication. However, that was too grand a goal and too far removed from his current skill set. His objective for now was to uncover some of the unknowns that would hopefully help them better understand and re-engineer Yaskh technologies. Being able to incorporate alien technologies into present-day industry was a well-trodden path to getting better sponsorships for dissertations.


    Their biggest point of contention was what the translator translated as "Nightwyrms". Despite having spent two whole years exploring Yaskh artifacts and relics, Norman had no idea whether these were some sort of creature that the Yaskh harvested, some alien species they collaborated with or just a name for a group of their individuals. The tome in front of them, which Remus had paid an exorbitant sum to acquire, was the first of its kind that seemed to have contained an elaborate treatment of the topic. The two other students had bet the success of their dissertations on Norman being able to extract valuable insights from this ancient text.


    But after two months of exhaustive research, Norman was now sure that parts of the tome had been selectively removed. What was even more baffling was that the text seemed to differ in its treatment of the Nightwyrms in different parts of the same work. It could partly be attributed to poor translation, but Norman was increasingly suspicious that the conflation was actually intended.


    "How can the same name be used for a race, a material and a single individual?" That was the question Norman had asked himself again and again over the last few sleepless nights. And somehow these nightwyrms were intricately linked to wormholes.


    "We may not have an answer for that question, but we have something else. Something unprecedented." In the fiercely competitive culture of the Illustrious Academy, an annual dissertation comprising novel, ground-breaking research was the only thing that would enable them to move forward to their next class. The extremely grueling ten-year course, which had a selection rate of 0.003% in all known universe, was the single trajectory in the Irvanian empire to become a master artificer. And achieving that was the dream that Norman got out of bed for every single day.


    "What?" Remus sat down; finally, a glimmer of hope emerged in his eyes.


    "There is a reference to a planet. Which nobody has been able to pinpoint."


    "Norman, do you understand that there is almost zero chance of us finding some obscure planet that professional exploration guilds have not been able to locate?" Kiri was justifiably not too excited about this prospect.


    "Yes, but here is the thing. The last expedition that attempted to explore this was three hundred years ago. They tried to map these routes through these four wormholes." Norman tapped through his tablet, and a holographic projection emerged showing a star chart illustrating four complex trajectories side by side. "However, just fifty years ago, a new anomalous curvature was detected in the deep space fabric which is believed to have originated at least a million years ago. The Yaskh text predates that." Celine pawed through the illusionary planet but was disappointed when it hit nothing.


    Remus frowned, "So if we offset the curvature, we might be able to locate the wormhole referenced in this text somewhere in the sector fifty-nine. And if we traverse through this unknown wormhole, we should be able to discover this forgotten planet."


    And, to their surprise, delight and misfortune, they had.

 Ch 07 - Bravery and submission

    (Present day)


    Norman could not have fled. He could not have fought. So he stood still. There was nothing else he could have done.


    In the later years, he would often look back on this moment and think of what else he could have done. And the answer would always be - Nothing. No stretch of logic and no amount of forward preparation could have prepared him for the being that emerged from the abyss.


    It''s form defined description: There were no words in human language that could fully capture the essence of the writhing mass of dark tendrils streaked with violet flames.


    As he fell down on his knees, his mind recalled a few Yaskh phrases from his explorations long back. "Rahemeth Deereh," he cried out. I surrender myself to your mercy, in old Yaskin.


    The floor under him disappeared. Norman fell.


    As he had anticipated, he didn''t fall down to the floor below. He fell through into another world.


    Dark violet clouds streamed past him. The clouds swirled and churned, their purple hues deepening with the fury of the storm. Rain pelted down in sheets, each droplet illuminated by the occasional flash of forked lightning. To his surprise, he landed on his feet. There was some guiding mechanism that arrested his fall.


    As he descended, the storm began to abate, the violet clouds giving way to a clear, pale sky. The rain slowed to a drizzle, and the winds subsided.


    Norman looked around. He had landed upon a craggy outcropping. The landscape around him was bizarre and utterly alien. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh rain.


    Before him and behind him was a long stretch of parallel stone triangles - they were worn with time, but were clearly artificial in origin. Each one was of the same height - about ten times his own. Their points jutted up towards the sky like the fingers of some ancient and mysterious deity. A dull, gloomy sun loomed over the strange terrain, casting long, muted shadows across the triangular formations.


    He could not push down the trace a anxiety in his voice, "Rathaad gullaameth." he concluded. We seek your forgiveness.


    For what felt like hours, there was absolute silence. Norman tried to use his tablet to determine where they were, but the connection kept erroring out. Below the base of the triangle he stood on was a dark sea of writhing tentacles - there was nowhere to go.


    Eventually, a series of guttural growls and haunting whispers of voices boomed around him. "We have hungered for aeons. You know our ways. You will repent for the insult offered to us." As the words echoed around him, the sea of darkness underneath began to ripple and twist, the ground shaking with each rumble of the voice.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Norman prostrated himself on the ground. "Our arrival here was unplanned. We didn''t expect to find beings of higher intellect."


    "The guardians of the gate... perished?" The voice seemed to hold a hypnotic power. At times it was like a hundred voices were speaking from different directions. The next line would be as if there were only a dozen sources.


    "The Yaskh abandoned this world long ago. Their motives are no longer known to us." Norman muttered.


    "Traitors..." the alien voice dropped down to a whisper, before regaining its volume again. "Who rules now?"


    "There is a galactic council that leads our people. It is headed by the God King. A celestial being that commands authority over hundreds of galaxies."


    "Hundreds... powerful indeed." Another couple minutes of silence followed, before the voice reverberated around him again. "What do you seek? What is your purpose?"


    "We seek forgotten knowledge. In the centuries of God King''s rule, knowledge of essence-harvesting has been suppressed. Other than what the Saan allow, older magics have grown extinct."


    "The Saan still exist?" Outrage echoed across the chasm.


    That question was not something Norman had expected. Asking if the Saan existed was like asking if space still existed or technology still existed. They had existed for all known history.


    "Yes..." he muttered. "No-one dares cross them." Norman was gambling here - there was no telling whether revealing that its powerful enemies were still around would temper their expectations or antagonize them further.


    "This sanctum is in ruins. You will provide us a way out." Ok, this was not going in the direction Norman wanted.


    He wondered what was keeping them locked in, now that the mechanism sealing the portal had been destroyed. Could this eldritch fiend just wander out into the empire at will?


    Nonetheless, his question was answered. "We have old disagreements with Saan. We need another haven where we are not interfered with."


    Norman''s eyes widened. Disagreement with the Saan was utterly unheard of. They had never interfered with the day-to-day operations of any culture. Despite being immensely powerful, the Saan never took sides. They had dedicated themselves to preserving the sanctity of the spatio-temporal fabric.


    "I promise to do that, elder. But my abilities are limited, and we will face resistance. We will need help..."


    "Our envoy will guide you. You will have help. Once you complete the task you will be rewarded with knowledge beyond your wildest imagination."


    Norman was alarmed. Someone from here will be accompanying him back? Still, suppressing his anxiety, he bowed, "I will honor your wish, elder."


    "You will not have a choice." The night declared.


    A fountain of tentacles rushed out from the sea, wrapped all around Norman and he was pulled upwards. As he was thrust up into the sky, his leg exploded in a searing pain. When the tentacles withdrew, he noticed that between the knee and ankle of his root foot there was now embedded a dark violet pulsating cyst. He was flung out of the hole and thrown back into the archive. He landed face first on a pile of broken glass.


    For a while, he lay motionless, unable to move an inch. The remnants of the violent encounter clung to him like a shadow.


    Slowly, he found himself able to stir. The first sensation to return was the pain from myriad cuts. Then there was the deep ache that throbbed in his temples, a reminder of the head trauma he had endured. His eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing a world that was initially a blur of indistinct shapes and colors. He attempted to move, but the pain that shot through his body as he tried to sit up caused him to recoil, his heart rate quickening in response.


    Slowly, his senses continued to return. The world around him grew more distinct. He could hear the faint whirring of machinery, he could smell the distinct scent of blood. Eventually he could also feel the alien warmth radiating from the cyst in his leg.


    Fighting against agonizing pain, he pushed himself up and looked closely at his foot. The bloated black sac was still there. Tiny tentacles could be seen swirling within the blister he had been "gifted" with. It pulsated rhythmically, expanding and contracting with each beat of his heart.

 Ch 08 - Introspection

    Kiri woke up. The surrounding walls were rough, textured, dark stone. The room was strangely shaped - as if two ovals had been merged half-way at an odd angle. No corners or windows could be seen. A muted yellow light from a floating electric lantern gave the entire place an other-worldly look. Were it not for the foldable desk next to her bed, on which an array of monitors was mounted, the room would have looked like a prehistoric cave.


    Some distance away, on the other side of the room, Norman was sitting on a mat on the floor, hunched over an array of haphazardly scattered electronic devices in various states of disassembly. Celine was curled up in a corner.


    "What is this place?" She coughed, but otherwise felt alright. Her clothes had been changed, and her right leg was completely bandaged. She could not feel her leg at all. Celine, always the light sleeper, immediately got up and jumped upon Kiri with a soft mew.


    "Good, you are up," Norman looked up, "I was getting worried. This place is not suitable for a long term stay. It was the best I could do in a short time."


    "That creature? Remus?" The memories flooded back as she drank the water on the bedside table to satisfy her parched throat.


    Norman nodded his head. "Remus didn''t make it. I couldn''t do anything for him." With a stoic resolve, he held at bay the tempest of emotions brewing deep within him.


    A wave of nausea passed through Kiri. "He died to save me. We need to notify his family."


    Norman''s face hardened. "We can''t do that, Kiri." The swelling tide of guilt and anger threatened to engulf him, yet he stood firm.


    "What?"


    "The Academy will not let us return if something like that comes to light. And Senator Greymus is known to be a brutal and ruthless man. We may very well be signing our death sentence if he finds out that we were involved in his son''s death."


    Kiri gaped at Norman open mouthed, "Norman, we can''t just cover up murder." Celine meowed in apparent agreement.


    "A murder we did not commit. Remus was told this operation could be risky. He chose to come." Norman himself felt uneasy saying this out loud. They both knew Remus had vastly underestimated the risk. Though the turmoil raged within, on the surface, he remained an unyielding bastion of calm, defiant against the onslaught of his inner demons. "There is another problem."


    "What?... What happened to that creature who attacked us?" Kiri had too many things swirling through her head at that point. Focusing on anything was too hard. "They were the Nightwyrms right?"Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Yes, and they have sent an envoy to accompany me." Norman filled her in on the events that transpired after she had passed out, and Kiri''s eyes grew wider with every sentence that came out of Norman''s mouth.


    At last Norman lifted up his bottom hem to reveal the dark bulbous sac. Kiri covered her mouth. The backside of his leg was now a spiderweb of dark veins. As she looked at the swirling tentacles inside the sac, she could feel the bile rising up her throat. "We need to get rid of it."


    Before even those words had left her mouth, a sharp pain jolted through Norman and he had to balance himself by grabbing the edge of the bed. "You need to be careful with your words..." He said with gritted teeth.


    "It is listening to everything we say?" Kiri gasped.


    "Yes, I think it is integrating itself deeper into my physiology. Initially, I could only feel occasional jolts and stabs of pain. But now I think it can insert itself into my thoughts as well. Over the last two days, I have been having some rather strange dreams."


    "Two days." Kiri sat up straight, "Norman, how long have I been out?"


    "Five days, roughly. I submitted an application to the academy. On record, we are exploring a certain Dr. Petrucia''s multi-year research on making long-distance research outside wormholes more economical."


    "God damn it, my dissertation..." Kiri felt like she would throw up again.


    "Would be the least of your concerns if this entire chain of events comes to light." Norman tried hard to keep his tone measured, but it was hard to suppress the tension. "So what do you say? Let''s continue with our original plan?"


    Kiri opened her mouth to protest, but then paused.


    Norman was right. Someone as powerful as the senator could easily destroy all their careers with one word. And nothing they did would bring Remus back.


    The other issue was Norman himself. They had known each other for three years and gotten somewhat close, but how well did she really know him? She was alone here, and nobody else knew about her location. Norman valued nothing higher in his life than his own ambition. If she said something that could jeopardize his career, was there a chance Kiri herself would never see the light of another day?


    "You are right," she finally uttered.


    Norman''s face slightly relaxed. "If you are feeling better, I''ll prepare for dismantling this safe-house. We can leave in a couple hours."


    "Dismantle? Where are we exactly?"


    "Inside an asteroid. Over the last year I had this hollowed out and set up a safe place to experiment with essence harvesting."


    Kiri''s eyes widened yet again. "We are inside an asteroid? Norman, this setup, the artificial gravity, and arranging supplies would easily cost you north of a hundred sols per day. How do you have so much money?"


    Norman had already started gathering up the assortment of loose electronics on the ground and carefully arranging them in the backpack. "It costs over three hundred sols per day. You didn''t take into account security precautions. Doing something like this discreetly is hard."


    Yes, Kiri knew something about that. The Protectorate had its eyes everywhere. It was only the vastness of the sprawled-out empire that made it possible for any modicum of discretion for people who did not play by the rules. "Nobody knows about this place. The money comes from a few people who owe me favors. A year ago, I was contracting with Assian Kordaeous. I helped a high-ranking bloke there save his career after a particularly nasty blunder. He has been quite generous with me to keep the matter under wraps."


    Kiri had known that Norman was talented, but this went beyond her expectations. Assian Kordaeous specialized in military applications. If Norman really had links deep into the weapon manufacturing industry, he could be a big help with her own secret endeavors. But of course, this was too soon and too early for something like that.


    "I see. So there is absolutely no chain of records leading to this place."


    "None. And I think that is precisely what makes it the perfect solution for the next step of our plan."


    When Norman told her, Kiri actually retched.

 Ch 09 - Troubled nights

    (A week later)


    Norman woke up bathed in sweat. His head ached as if it were crammed with stones. It had been like this for every day of the last few days. He hadn''t stepped outside his apartment after coming back to the academy.


    Over the last few days, he had spent every waking moment thinking of a solution to his parasite problem, and he felt the creature getting more angry and annoyed with every passing day.


    Every time he would think about either injecting himself with something to kill the abomination, a surgery conducted in secret, or subjecting himself to electrocution, the parasite would express its discontent, and increasingly sharper jolts of pain would shoot through his leg, incapacitating him for the next several minutes.


    He no longer had any doubt that its influence was growing stronger. Its communication had grown more nuanced and was no longer limited to occasional itching, subtle shocks, throbs and aches as before. He felt that he could now instinctively feel its emotions - its anger when Norman thought about ripping it apart, its delight when Norman looked over his past research on essence harvesting, its frustration at Norman''s poor understanding of the Yaskh tome whose snapshots Norman had left lying on his bedside table. It had enmeshed itself deeper into his neural system and was increasingly gaining control.


    And then were the dreams. They had started out as hazy glimpses at first, but gradually they evolved into vivid scenes that went on for hours.


    What Norman gradually came to understand was that the wyrms were not a group of individuals like humans. They were more like a single collective mind that had organically grown over many centuries. The creature that accompanied him was a fragment of the collective. While separated from the hive mind, it could observe and act independently, but its destiny was to eventually be re-assimilated back.


    The fragment did retain some memories from the collective, but it no longer had access to the entirety of the reservoir of knowledge and skills amassed by the hive. Whatever it did retain, it took the liberty to project into Norman''s mind while he slept.


    Over the span of numerous torturous dreams, Norman saw the Yaskh elders descend into the world of the Nightwyrms and kneel before them. He saw the Yaskh incorporate the alien wyrm-sorceries into their own culture - he saw them weaponizing their arcane crafts. He saw cities burning. Thousands dying.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The dream last night was particularly disturbing. It depicted the Nightwyrm devouring a sun. A tentacled monstrosity - its vast form a writhing mass, each appendage tipped with a mouth filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. A miasma of noxious gases billowed from its gargantuan maw as it drifted closer to the red giant. He saw its tentacles curl around the Sun and snuff out the golden orb''s fiery heart. And thus followed the death of a world that depended on it. Flora and fauna died a prolonged death over days, weeks and months of unending darkness. He saw hundreds of primitive people huddled around an immense bonfire as the biting wind howled through the barren trees.


    One by one, they began to succumb to the frigid temperatures. The first was an old woman, her hands trembling as she clung to the warmth of the now-meager fire that barely held off the encroaching frost. Her breaths grew shallow, her eyes glazed over, and soon she was still.


    A young man, who had been the strongest among them, collapsed not long after. His body rigid with cold, he lay there, his limbs unmoving as life slowly ebbed away. His family huddled around him, trying to warm him with their own bodies, but it was futile. His eyes stared blankly into the nothingness as his final breath escaped.


    The once lively bonfire flickered and died, leaving them in darkness. One by one, they began to fall. Some tried to press on despite the agony of their frostbitten limbs, but it was a futile effort. The cold claimed them all until there was only one left, huddled in the snow, praying for the warmth of death to come and release him from his suffering.


    The last survivor looked at his companions, their bodies now lifeless and frozen, and he knew that he too would soon join them in the great beyond. With a heavy heart, he closed his eyes, welcoming the icy embrace of the cold, and let go of the world that had so cruelly abandoned him.


    As Norman looked on as a mute spectator, in this desolate wasteland, where even the hardiest of souls were no match for the unyielding cold, another tale of survival against insurmountable odds had ended in tragedy. The wind continued to howl, mocking the memories of those who had once called this land home.


    Even though he was now awake, no matter how hard Norman tried, he could not shake off these visions. The images of people freezing, screaming, and dying haunted him all hours.


    Eventually, he decided to step away from his room. He was losing his sanity and needed some contact with the outside world. Staying locked up in his room had been nothing unfamiliar to him, but increasingly, his quarters - spacious accommodation that was provided to every student¡ªfelt more and more like an asylum.


    He gulped up a liquid medication to deal with his headache and thoroughly rinsed his face. As he looked at his reflection, a haggard shell of a young man stared back at him. In his twenties, Norman had always been paler and skinnier compared to his peers. But now, as he saw the deep circles etched into his sunken eyes - the dark bags beneath them heavy with the weight of many nights of troubled sleep¡ªhe knew something had to change.


    No more of this - he thought and stepped out of his apartment and took the lift up to the corridor. He''d first get a haircut and then think of what to do next.

 Ch 10 - New beginnings

    The orbital corridor was a huge artificial ring that circled the planet of Irvania a few leagues below its natural asteroid belt at a perpendicular angle. A magnetic railway track ran along the corridor. An ultra-high-velocity train periodically sped through the track, going around the planet in circles.


    If one were so inclined, they could jog along the platforms on either side and cover the entire circumference on foot, though it would take more than a year to do so.


    The academy was built like a torus around the orbital corridor. Building complexes housing the teaching facilities as well as student apartments were constructed along the inner sides of the torus - commonly called the hull. The train stopped at evenly distributed station points every two leagues, providing the staff and students of the academy free and easy access to the facilities. The academy was completely off the ground - a technological masterpiece¡ªwhen it was constructed.


    While ascending from the torus to the corridor, one experienced a gravity shift. The artificial gravity in the apartments was aligned with the inner hull of the torus. So as the lift ascended (always up from the perspective of a resident) towards the corridor, Norman held on to the guardrails along the lift as he felt his weight disappearing, and then reappearing as the gravity realigned in a different direction - towards the floor of the corridor. New joiners always found it to be a fascinating experience the first couple of times, but just like everything else, you get used to it after the first dozen times.


    Norman was waiting for the next revolution of the train to reach him at a caf¨¦, sipping an erudian coffee on station 178, when Mervin approached him.


    Because each platform connected only a dozen or so apartment complexes, the large caf¨¦s for waiting passengers were rarely overcrowded. So, these caf¨¦s also commonly served as a convenient place for casual conversations and academic discussions for small groups of students. Around him, there were multiple groups of two to four students - none of whom he could recognize - huddled together at various tables. Almost all of them were busy interacting with small holographic projections on their academy-issued tablets. The room was bathed in a soft pale blue light, and lined along its glass walls were an array of automated coffee dispensers. All free, of course.


    Norman sighed inward but put up a smile. Mervin was one of the brightest students in their cohort, but their interest areas had very little overlap. And the guy loved to talk.


    "Hey Norman, seeing you after a long time." Mervin assumed Norman''s smile to be an invitation to join him at the table. Norman hated when people did that, but at least Mervin was agreeable company. Somewhat. "What happened to you? You look sick." Mervin continued.


    "Nothing serious, just haven''t been sleeping too well." Norman reminded himself of his sponsor Leptimus''s advice - all the students of Illustrious Academy ended up in important positions in administration, security or research. It was important to build a network and collaborate with other students.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "Being a genius lone wolf can only take you so far," his mentor had advised. The man was arrogant and haughty, but he did make some reasonable points from time to time.


    After some light chat about the political scene and the God King''s response to escalations on the Irudian front, the discourse inevitably gravitated towards the topic of their dissertations. After their initial three years, the students did not have regular classes to attend. Instead, they spent most of their time working on annual dissertations of increasingly higher scope and complexity for each of the next seven years. They were the single most important aspect of life in the academy. Every year, the scholarch deemed some 10% of the lowest-ranking dissertations unacceptable, and the students behind them were eliminated from the course - they would never be deemed qualified artificers, and be relegated to less prominent support roles in the industry.


    "Yes, it is coming along quite well - I have finally solved the Domiter''s Knot." A distinct change in tone in his voice made it abundantly clear that Mervin was now entering his element.


    Norman tried hard to remember what the esoteric mathematical concept was. Mervin''s interest lay in deeply abstract fields of theoretical mathematics, and Norman tended to always focus on areas that had immediate practical applications. "Sorry, I am sure I have heard about it in past, but could you please remind me of what this particular mathematical knot was. I vaguely recall something that had applications on mining of rare metals in asteroid belts."


    "Yeah, of course you remember the most boring part," Mervin casually smiled. It was no secret that people like him always pursued research areas that triggered their fancy and later identified some or other esoteric applications in the wild to justify it to the funding committee.


    Sometimes, when these hastily cooked-up practical applications failed to materialize, careers had been ruined. While the scholarch appreciated investigations into the theoretical underpinnings of the universe, the organizations that funded the research - especially the Protectorate - were most interested in research that could be put to use in the field. Mervin, though, was one of the smartest ones in the batch, and his proposed applications had always been nothing short of record-breaking.


    However, Norman had often wondered what a mind like his could accomplish if it was applied to something that was directly focused on real-world problems that would benefit the lives of millions. Some esoteric mathematical solution whose best application lied in mining rare materials just wasn''t real-world enough for Norman. He suddenly noticed with a start, that there was a subtle red light emanating from the right side of Mervin''s chest. He squinted, and then the subtle red light changed into something that looked like a diagram projected from an out-of-focus projector. But when he turned to look at the other side of the platform, he couldn''t locate the source. And after turning back, he noticed that the projection had disappeared.


    Norman dismissed it and refocused on the conversation. Mervin had not noticed anything and continued to excitedly talk about how his work bridged two sub-streams of mathematics that were previously thought of as entirely unrelated.


    Over the next hour or so, the train had come and gone, and Norman and Mervin continued to discuss the minutiae of higher-level mathematical theory that simplified complex motion simulations in unpredictable deep-space environments. After a while, Norman unexpectedly found himself quite engrossed in the discussion. And while Mervin was mostly interested in the theoretical underpinnings, Norman could see a few more applications. Probably for the next year, he could look into a collaboration with Mervin on one of these once his exploration had sufficiently matured for real-world applications. He also realized that his leg was actually in a relaxed state, and for the first time in weeks, he felt at ease. The throbbing in his head was gone, and he could actually focus on the topic. That was quite interesting; it looked like all this talk about theoretical science had driven his companion to slumber.


    As Mervin excitedly raved about the complexities of higher-dimensional unstable ellipsoidal trajectories, Norman noticed that a fidgety, dark-haired girl had been eyeing him time to time from two seats across. She had also missed the train and was now slowly sipping on her third refill of coffee while pretending to study the tablet in front of her.

 Ch 11 - Pain and Fury

    Nestled high above the vibrant metropolis of Haveskon, the plush office suite had been meticulously crafted by an army of highly overpaid designers and architects working tirelessly towards one singular objective - to cater to the ego of the man who now sat upon the rich velvety chair. His demeanor was not much unlike that of a king of ages past.


    Greymus Ortimus had a well-deserved reputation as a man people tried not to cross. His career was built through a vast range of questionable business dealings across a large network of Irvanian conglomerates. And this city was the epicenter of his influence. The floor-to-ceiling windows around him framed a breathtaking panorama of Haveskon.


    The cityscape unfolding beyond was a mesmerizing tapestry of towering skyscrapers, bustling streets, and lush pockets of greenery. The gentle hum of activity below was a constant reminder of the energy and dynamism that lied at the heart of this bustling city.


    On an ordinary day, in the confines of this plush, verdant oasis, the senator would unwind and find solace away from the chaos of running an enterprise. But today was not such a day. "What is the meaning of this?" The senator bellowed, slamming his fist on the table.


    Before him sat a dark, bald man with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard. His deep blue suite bore the unmistakable insignia of the Protectorate: A soaring falcon circled by a ring of stars. "We have located your son, Senator. Unfortunately, it looks like he has been a victim of an accident."


    The man''s measured tone and expressionless face were the polar opposite of Greymus''s beetroot-red, angry visage.


    The Senator had a hard time believing that. His heir - dead. And an accident. In the present day and age. With all the resources that Remus had at his disposal. Ridiculous.


    Trying to suppress his rage, he urged the inspector to continue: "Walk me through what you found."


    The inspector tapped through his tablet, and a holographic projection unfolded before them. In ethereal blue colors, the image depicted an asteroid belt where a single large one was highlighted in red. "This asteroid belt revolves around the star-system of Fiera Azakus in Sector two. In the same star system, we have the planet Harkinsis - a Gireth settlement." Norman had chosen this location after a careful selection. Seventy-five light years away from the location of the ziggurat, it would be impossible to connect to the place they had originally traveled to.


    "Gireth?" The senator rubbed his temples. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn''t recall where from exactly.


    "A race that specializes in mining zetacadmin." Alright, things clicked into place. He remembered some appeals to provide them with more funding and resources a few years back. He also recalled that Remus''s previous dissertation had attempted some novel applications for zetacadmin to safeguard industrial apparatus in high-temperature environments. Eventually, that proved to be a dead end.


    "I take it he hadn''t given up that stupid zetacadmin research."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "That was our observation too, sir." The inspector offered politely, "We found his research material within the asteroid."


    "Within?" That was a surprise.


    "Yes, the asteroid was converted to a habitable cubicle. It seems that Remus wanted to spend a few weeks close to the mining site."


    It wouldn''t have been a questionable choice; the Gireth mining centers didn''t offer living conditions suitable for humans. But Greymus also kept a tight check on Remus''s expenses - and the cost of a habitable cubicle on a hollowed-out asteroid would have been something he noticed.


    He flicked through the recent expenses of his son on his own device, and his frown deepened. There was some eye-watering expenditure for a deep space voyage, alright, but also expedition equipment - for three people.


    "Was he alone in that asteroid?"


    "He was working with another girl from his class - Kiri. But it looks like Kiri met with an accident and decided to postpone her plans. They were attempting to identify a third individual for a group dissertation - but we don''t think they actually found one."


    Remus going on an exploration all alone - something didn''t feel right. And another accident? With all the safety measures that the academy kept in place, this was increasingly suspicious. Greymus was slightly recovering from his initial shock, and his analytical mind was taking over. "In what state was his body found?"


    "It looks like the safety and life support system was not adequately equipped to handle the intense solar flares from the star in that system. And a flare resulted in an electrical hazard while Remus was sleeping. A group of miners found him later in the day in a heavily burnt sate and alerted the Protectorate outpost nearby immediately."


    "Later in the day..." Greymus tapped his fingers on the desk, "How accurate can the time of death be in such scenarios."


    "That is one issue, Senator. Because of the extent of the damage, we can only say that the time of death was within 3¨C4 days of that incident. It is not possible to be more precise."


    "So there was a possibility that he was killed and then dumped in that asteroid?" Greymus found his anger resurfacing. Someone was going to have to pay for this.


    "That seems like a very strange way to accomplish this, but we are still not sure what would someone gain from this?" The investigator offered.


    That was what was bothering Greymus from the beginning. There was no ransom request. No attempt at coercion.


    He flicked through his tablet again, "Can you see if you can locate these suits?" The projection now showed three industrial expedition suites. The total amount was not a fortune for Ortimus family, but it could be worthwhile for some lowly scum.


    "Sir, all three of them were found within the asteroid. Remus seems to have attempted to retrofit them with zetacadmin lining."


    Another dead-end. Greymus''s jaw clenched - he had no idea what Remus was trying to accomplish. It looked like he had deliberately tried to hide his continuation of research, given their heated discussion on its folly over the last summer. But still, he was not convinced.


    Why had he chosen such a poorly setup cubicle? Greymus had no doubts about his son''s intelligence, or lack thereof. But could he really be that big of an idiot? He would have at least gone through the recommended configurations for the location - the Gireth settlement was remote, but not unknown.


    "I want you to keep digging on this case. This girl who was supposed to accompany him. Has her injury been verified?"


    "Yes, sir, I saw the medical reports myself. And verified in person. She did have her leg fractured around the same time."


    "And how did it get fractured, exactly?" Greymus was realizing that this would drag on for some time now. Either whoever had orchestrated the whole thing was someone incredibly meticulous, or he was chasing phantoms.


    "She was experimenting with augmented exoskeletons and an experiment went wrong. She was collaborating with Remus on applications of zetacadmin for strengthening these exoskeletons."


    Greymus was increasingly sure that if he heard the word zetacadmin yet again, he was going to smash something.

 Ch 12 - Irrigation plans

    After Norman and Mervin departed an hour later, Norman got up on the next iteration of the revolving train. The girl followed behind, pretending, rather badly, to be inconspicuous.


    Norman was usually a person who tried to utilize every waking moment. But after the harrowing experience of the last few weeks, he was content to just look out of the glass window. As the train traversed the circular corridor, it hugged the curve of the planet. The beautiful view of the green lands and blue waters below from so far up was always an intoxicating one, often leaving passengers awestruck.


    Eventually, the girl mustered up the courage and came up to his seat. "You are Norman Ferus right? Can we have a word?"


    "Sure, I am free for the duration of the ride." That would be false at any past point of his stay at the academy, but this girl seemed to have caught him at the strangest of times. "What did you want to discuss?"


    Neither of them would have known or cared at the time, but all the train compartments were under surveillance. The conversation was recorded in the Academy archives.


    He tried to remember if he had met her in the past at some point. He was terrible at recollecting faces, but over the last few years, following his sponsor''s never-ending advice on networking, he developed a system to mentally track people by creating a profile of facial features, past accomplishments, interest areas, intonations, etc., which helped somewhat to offset his bad memory for people. Still, he came up empty.


    Also, this girl had a face that Norman was unlikely to forget. Her dark, cascading waves of hair framed a face that was a study in contrasts. The late afternoon sunlight pouring in from the window kissed her milky cheeks with a gentle glow, highlighting the delicate contours of her face and the delicate pink blush that graced her features. Her dark eyes revealed a depth of emotion and intelligence that drew him in. Her full, pink lips, ever so slightly parted, seemed to hold a hint of a secret.


    "Thank you. And apologies for being so direct. But I came across your research on the Yaskh sometime back." Immediately, Norman felt the skin of his leg tightening again, and his forehead got tense. This conversation had brought his companion back from sleep.


    "Yes, I have some experience with their past research..."


    "It is agricultural research that I am interested in. Especially their irrigation practices."


    That surprised Norman. The Yaskh were known above all for their studies on essence harvesting and deep space warfare. This was the first time he was hearing someone studying their agricultural practices. "Any particular reason you are investigating this?"


    "Yes. My field of research is irrigation in resource deprived deep space colonies." Norman was reminded of the arid homeworld of the Yaskh, and he connected the two, "And the Yaskh happened to be a race that had evolved in some of the harshest environments."


    "Yes, and they had to develop some rather impressive technology to support their growing population. Would you believe that they had acres of underground farms that supported a population in the order of millions?" His mind drifted back to the insane atmosphere of the planet, where they had attempted to plunder the ziggurat. "Yes, impressive indeed. You are attempting to recreate some of their engineering feats, I take it?"


    "Yes, in many of the colonies out in the deep space research groups, the availability of direct sunlight is unreliable - shipping food to these colonies is a big part of the expenses for Zenith Fidaeus."


    "Your sponsor?" I recollected the name. Zenith Fidaeus was one of the most well-known guilds that specialized in deep space transportation and mining.


    "Yes. They had found my research impressive. But over the last few months, progress has been slow. So I started looking into some of the prior work in similar areas... especially unorthodox ones."Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "And that is how you found the works of the Yaskh?" She nodded.


    A feeling of something resembling an appreciation emanated from the parasite.


    "So, what do you need help with?" This conversation was going in a direction that actually resonated with his interest areas, and Norman found himself relaxing.


    She went over some of the restorations of Yaskh artifacts. Areas where the translations were failing and some of the constructs had simply fallen to the ravages of time.


    But over the next half hour, Norman formed a good mental picture of what Arianna, as she had introduced herself, was trying to accomplish.


    The solution she had unearthed was as complex as it was fascinating: a bio-electromagnetic hydroponic system that harnessed the power of quantum energy to optimize water absorption in low-gravity environments.


    At the core of this revolutionary technology was a specialized hydroponic setup, where nutrient-rich water was circulated through a web of porous substrate, allowing plant roots to develop without soil. However, in the face of low gravity, traditional capillary action proved insufficient for distributing water evenly throughout the system.


    To overcome this obstacle, she integrated advanced quantum crystals into the hydroponic substrate. These crystals were capable of harnessing and amplifying subatomic particles, generating a weak electromagnetic field that attracted water molecules towards the roots. This bio-electromagnetic field enhanced the capillary action and ensured that nutrients were efficiently absorbed by the plants, even in the minimal gravitational forces of their alien habitat.


    Moreover, the system employed a sophisticated water recycling and filtration unit that continuously monitored pH levels and nutrient concentrations in the water. This allowed for precise control over the growing conditions, ensuring optimal crop growth even in the most challenging of environments.


    Furthermore, to address the issue of evaporation, which is exacerbated by low gravity, a self-regulating humidity control system was incorporated into the design. This system utilized a combination of evaporative cooling and advanced moisture retention materials to maintain an ideal relative humidity level within the greenhouse, reducing water loss and ensuring the long-term sustainability of the irrigation system.


    This esoteric technique combined the principles of quantum physics, hydroponics, and advanced engineering to create a sustainable solution for agriculture optimized for isolated deep space settlements. The result was a harmonious symbiosis that defied the odds and allowed for the thriving existence of lush vegetation in the uncharted territories of the cosmos.


    The more Norman looked at this beautiful contraption, the more he was intrigued. Eventually, he asked, "How much of this is really theory? Have you made any prototypes to test this out?"


    "If you could spare an hour, I could show you the current state of progress." Her eyes glittered. She was clearly passionate about her work.


    It was impossible for Norman to say no at that point.


    He discarded his plans for a haircut and found himself traveling a lot farther than he originally planned. Their destination - Station 189, was connected to an external module for agricultural research, and long before the train halted at the station, Norman could see the huge spherical agri-domes linked to the torus through narrow umbilical bridges. Isolated biomes to facilitate agricultural experimentation in controlled environments.


    After a few minutes of walking from the station, they entered the biome where Arianna had spent the last three years of her research. From her appearance, Norman initially assumed that she would be in a junior cohort, but instead discovered that she was ahead of him by a year.


    The Ardiso-VI dome was a breathtaking sight to behold. It wasn''t as massive as the ones intended for larger multi-decade group research experiments, but still the translucent geodesic dome, measuring over a quarter-league in diameter, with its gleaming, silver-tinted surface reflecting the inky blackness, of space looked beautiful from inside.


    After a brief tour of Arianna''s past experiments, they turned their focus towards the Yaskh historical artifacts and what looked like some old manuals that Arianna had managed to recover.


    With surprise, Norman realized that his grasp of the Yaskh language had improved. He understood the nuances better, as if he had spoken the language all his life. As he glanced at the ancient texts, the precise meaning of the terms jumped at him - the overhead of translation was completely gone. A sense of deep satisfaction emanated from the parasite. Another realization clicked into place - a lot of the early advancements attributed to Yaskh were actually gifts from the Nightwyrms. Knowledge amassed from older ancient civilizations, passed along to their devoted.


    As Norman circled around the large collection of vertically stacked algal pods, reviewing the Yaskh research on his tablet and tallying it with the design of the prototype, a few problems began to unravel.


    The restoration of the Yaskh research document was incomplete. And Arianna had filled in the gaps using her own engineering prowess. What she had managed to accomplish was admirable, but some of the safety mechanisms she had introduced reduced the efficiency of the overall system, causing the inner layers to be more power-intensive. And as a result, the overall system was no longer self-sustaining.


    They spent the next several hours discussing the differences in the original Yaskh design, the adaptations that Arianna had introduced for the specific environments where this solution would be expected to be deployed, and the additional safeguards to comply with the regulations of Irvania.


    They only realized how much time had passed once the early rays of the sun broke through the horizon. The glass dome refracting the light of emerging sunlight was a spectacular sight to behold.


    "Isn''t this beautiful?" Arianna exclaimed, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "I have spent the last three years in this place. Never gets old."


    For the first time since he emerged from the cursed world of Sardus Arcemius, Norman smiled.

 Ch 13 - A cloudy future

    Rothfurd Zenith scrolled through the most recent market predictions. He had just come out of surgery. Though the surgery was successful, he was anything but elated.


    Vultures were circling closer and closer. Zenith Fidaeus, the company he had founded with his partner fifty years ago, had been going through a downward spiral for quite some time. Their margins had been dropping, and though over the last few years, through some applications of creative accounting, they had kept shareholder concerns at bay, he knew that these tricks were just short-term measures. What they needed to save the company was radical innovation. And innovation was increasingly expensive.


    It was not that their products were not selling. They were selling quite well, in fact. It was that their offerings were so entrenched that they had come to be regarded as utilities. And nobody wanted to think about utilities. As long as utilities worked, nobody wanted to care. Except their competitors, that is - who aggressively replicated their every product line. Anytime they attempted to raise their margins, their customers threatened to switch to their competitors - who were more than happy to offer deep discounts. It was a race to the bottom.


    They were all set to launch a new product, one that would change the direction of their company. But thanks to the wicked tactics of a particularly shrewd competitor, the financiers had backed away at the last moment.


    The gray-haired man, still clad in the disposable gray nursing room clothing, was pulled out of his gloomy thoughts by a ding on the holcom - the colloquial for holographic communicator. As he looked at the caller, his frown deepened. Speak of the devil...


    "What do you want?" His voice was tired and exhausted. The sedators were wearing off, and soon his aches would return.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    A projection of a red-haired woman in her thirties emerged. She was as beautiful as she was wicked.


    "Oh, I just wanted to wish you a happy recovery. Your staff notified me that your operation was successful."


    Rothfurd hated nothing more than these vanity pretexts. But still, he was too exhausted to argue back. "Appreciate your concern, Flavia. Hope you had a great day too."


    "Oh, I couldn''t have had a better one, Rothfurd. While I have you..." Ok, here comes the viper''s strike: "Have you given any thought to our proposal?"


    "Flavia, I am barely out of surgery... Can this wait?" The predatory merger that Ortimus Guild was proposing would effectively end their guild as he knew it. And Flavia was hell-bent on using every trick up her sleeve to push that through.


    "Sure, Rothfurd, take your time to consider, but please be mindful of the evolving political situation." And here comes the next strike: "The Senate just agreed to pass a regulation on deep space mesh networking. Any devices that haven''t gone through the Grade 5 certification level will have to be phased out within the next three years."


    Rothfurd sighed. Yeah, of course, the Senate had agreed to yet another proposal in the name of galactic security. Having a Senator as your dad sure helped. Three years was too short a time to phase out the vast multitude of networked devices spread out across millions of ships. And guess who was responsible for supervising the licensing certifications? The Ortimus Regnum consolidate - owned by the Ortimus family, headed by Flavia Ortimus.


    Rothfurd was sure that by the time they actually managed to get the required licenses, the deadline for the migrations would be long past. This whole thing was just a pretext to impose an array of imperial penalties on the Zenith Fidaeus guild.


    "Thanks for the heads-up, Flavia." Rothfurd forced himself to keep his tone neutral. "We will take the new regulations into consideration." Then he hung up.


    Rothfurd felt drained - he had given this guild his entire life. The one thing at which he had failed, above all, was that he didn''t have a worthy successor who could take up the helm of his organization and push it through the long chain of hurdles.

 Ch 14 - Emergent alliances

    Norman was standing on the platform once again, waiting for the next iteration of the train. A month had passed, and since then, Arianna''s irrigation project had moved forward significantly.


    Norman''s own dissertation was not progressing well, though. His plan had been to look at some of the open-contract projects proposed by industrial guilds that routinely sought assistance from the academy. While Norman had been delving into a few of these open problems, none of them seemed impactful enough for an annual dissertation.


    His relationship with his companion had also gotten less intense over time. After Norman set aside his attempts to get rid of it, it had grown less invasive. It also seemed to have gotten the hint that the dreams were not having their desired attempt, and for the last few weeks his sleep had improved.


    Getting on the train, Norman contemplated his plans for the future.


    A career with the Protectorate increasingly looked like a bleak prospect because effectively all roles required a full medical examination, and Norman was no close to gaining any insights on how to get rid of his companion. So, he was looking for career options that were adjacent to the Protectorate. He just didn''t see himself fitting into commerce or something very theoretical.


    The project he had spent the most time in happened to be a proposal by Zenith Fidaeus. He told himself that it was because the problem domain was interesting and the contract paid well, and Arianna''s association with them did not factor in at all.


    He arrived at the meeting complex twenty minutes earlier, thinking he would have a few minutes to get some light refreshments at the station before heading in. Too busy ironing out numerous last-minute details, he had missed both the previous day''s dinner and today''s breakfast. Instead, as soon as he stepped out of the train onto the platform, a blonde woman clad with sleek, polished hair in a professional dark red suit and fitted, ankle-length skirt approached him - "Norman Ferus, yes?"


    Norman coaxed out a smile and recalled the name of the person he had been communicating with virtually over the last week, "Mrs. Claudia, I presume."


    "Pleased to make your acquaintance in person." Claudia smiled, shaking his hand. "I was hoping we could have a quick chat before we head in. Would you like to get some snacks?" The smile on Norman''s face was no longer insincere. He hoped that she didn''t hear the grumbling in his stomach.


    They headed towards the cafeteria and settled on a pair of wraps.


    She was straightforward and got to the point directly. "I was just wondering what motivated you to take up this project for your dissertation. If you could walk me through your next plans, we could explore potential sponsorship opportunities."


    "Actually I haven''t yet decided whether this is something I want to take up for my dissertation." Norman hadn''t expected to be getting into this so soon.


    Claudia was taken aback by that, "So, this project..."


    "...is something I picked up because it looked interesting."


    The color of her face changed in a matter of seconds. After tapping her fingers on the desk thoughtfully over the next couple minutes, she continued with a frown, "Mr. Norman, given that you are not serious about pursuing this as your dissertation, I am not sure having this meeting is worth it."


    Norman was now beginning to get exasperated, "I thought this was supposed to be a preliminary evaluation call. I don''t see why my dissertation is relevant for this."


    Her fingers continued to move with a subtle, almost unconscious, motion. "Yes, well, you see I saw your profile and took the liberty to invite a few high profile executives."


    "Alright, I still don''t see what the issue is." Norman really wanted to get this over with.


    "No, you don''t get it. If our executives find out that you were not serious about this dissertation, I''d look like..."


    She was interrupted by a gray-haired man wearing an immaculately tailored dark suit who had just entered the platform. "Ms. Claudia, we good to proceed?" His voice was gravely and laced with authority - someone who appeared causal but yet commanded attention and respect.


    Norman, suddenly feeling a little underdressed in his casual shirt, got up. Claudia, too, didn''t protest any further, though the frown stayed on her face.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Norman had expected this to be a casual presentation call with some two or three people from their engineering team. But as he followed the elderly executive into the large conference room conveniently situated right next to the station, some twenty folks, all similarly well dressed, stood up. What had Claudia told these people? It was like all the senior leadership of Zenith Fidaeus had shown up for his contract project presentation. Just to be sure he confirmed, "We are meeting here regarding the presentation of the aegis contract project, yes?"


    The man they had followed had taken his seat at the head of the table. He answered with a fatherly smile, "Yes, Mr. Norman. We are familiar with your past works. We are excited to discuss and understand your proposed solution."


    He introduced himself as Rothfurd Zenith, one of the founders of the guild. The other executives too followed suit. The next was Malcolhm Westworth, who led the industrial research division - a completely bald old man of pale complexion. His associate Miera Sluthers was an old lady in her sixties. Zanus, Maridoth and Ronikov were middle-aged men who managed specific subdivisions within the umbrella.


    Pulling back his focus, he tapped on his tablet and connected it to the networked projector in the room. A large, translucent holograph of a deep space research complex popped over the table. Norman straightened his posture, and addressed the group, "I am sure everyone here is familiar with the problem - deep space mining and research vessels often need to spend years in deep space in isolation. Space is not kind - especially in asteroid belts and locations prone to flares." He steeled himself for the next part, "In fact recently my friend Remus met a tragic accident in a scenario that was completely avoidable." Internally he kicked himself for bringing this up, but he needed to connect with the group. And as his sponsor had advised him, there was no better instrument than sympathy. He saw a sad smile form on Miera''s face while the others maintained their stoic expression.


    "The current generation of state-of-the-art shielding tech has evolved in militia. They are expensive for prolonged usage, especially for mining or research expeditions, which already operate on very low margins." That was something that resonated with pretty much all the group, and he saw the division leads nod.


    "My solution to this is a diffusion matrix dual-layer shield that operates at a power level of only 30% of comparable military shields. The trade-off for the outer layer is increased sensitivity at the cost of much reduced durability." On the note of a reduction in durability, a frown formed on many of the faces. Rothfurd, too, leaned forward.


    "However, the idea is that as soon as the outer layer detects an anomalous intrusion, the inner layer begins to draw power and starts to aggressively re-route repellent charges around the area of suspected impact. So for these short bursts of strenuous situations, we can afford to pull in more power, and the durability of the inner layer is raised to 300% of the current norm without compromising on cost or power usage."


    Claudia summarized with a smile: "So effectively, the two layers work in tandem to improve both the sensitivity and durability of the overall system." Her frown had disappeared.


    "By how much?" Rothfurd asked. The man''s demeanor had changed. His smooth smile was gone, and a look of intense concentration transformed his appearance from that of a slick salesman to something akin to that of a stern academic researcher.


    Norman pulled up the results of his last ten simulation runs. "Durability by 40% and sensitivity by 25%."


    The members looked at each other incredulously.


    Zanus was the most forthright. "I have spent a decade in this industry and I am one-hundred percent confident that these claims won''t hold up." Rothfurd silenced him with a glare.


    Ronikov took a more measured stance: "Mr. Norman, these projections are rather optimistic¡ªpath-breaking even. What is your estimated time frame for productionizing this?"


    Norman casually waved his hand, "I''d consider my submission production ready - I am submitting it for your evaluation."


    Rothfurd''s expression transformed, "Wait a second - You mean to say this is your final submission?"


    "Yes," Norman continued confidently, "my simulations verify that it meets all your proposed benchmarks."


    "So what do you plan to do for the rest of the year?" Ronikov was equally surprised.


    Claudia, too, was taken aback by this revelation, but quickly regained her composure and connected the dots from the conversation before: "I think there was some confusion here. The academy also offers its students short-term contracts sponsored by industry. Mr. Norman apparently assumed that the time limit for submitting the initial prototype was the contract duration."


    Norman was dumbfounded to hear that they had intended this contract project itself to be a whole-year dissertation project.


    Zanus had been scrolling through the results of Norman''s benchmarks. "You claim all of this is already production-ready. We can start our real-world evaluations on this?"


    "Yes," Norman kept his posture straight and tone modest.


    "But Norman has already been thinking of a couple of future enhancements to further improve this design..." Claudia looked towards him expectantly. Norman had mentioned a few possible extensions in their correspondence.


    "Yes, we can explore a couple of tangents, but those certainly need further exploration and evaluation..."


    Rothfurd got up; apparently he had heard enough, "I think we can meet again once the initial design has gone through a full verification by our team. Mr. Zanus, would you be willing to take a point on that?" His tone was still casual, but there was an undertone of determination now. And maybe a hint of a challenge?


    "Would be my pleasure, Sir." The middle-aged, tall man answered with a smile. Norman had no doubt he would try every possible way to find some or other flaw in his design. He didn''t look like a person who knew how to gracefully accept defeat.


    Rothfurd turned his attention towards Norman again, "This has been an incredibly productive discussion, Mr. Norman. We look forward to your next innovations," he shook Norman''s hand. "The proposed sum of the contract will be credited to you as soon as Mr. Zanus here verifies that the design is sound. Claudia will be in touch to discuss future extensions - we will extend the contract terms to accommodate them."


    Rothfurd moved to exit the room, but the moment his back was turned away, Norman saw something familiar that shattered his composure. "Sir, " he stammered, "I do not want to intrude, but have you recently been diagnosed with a liver condition?" A translucent red outline of a human liver, with a very precise depiction of internal details, was overlaid on top of his suit. And with a sinking feeling, Norman felt like he knew what the source of that projection was.


    Rothfurd turned back. His demeanor was no longer calm. A grim expression was etched on the wrinkles of his face. "How could you possibly know that?" In the distance, the gentle whirring sound of the train opening its doors could be heard.


    "I am sorry, I need to run." Norman pushed past him and ran towards the track. He could not wait for another hour for the next iteration. His companion had shown him similar markers before. Outlines overlaid on a person - Mervin. At the time, they had been too blurry and vague to be meaningful, but now suddenly Norman knew what they meant.


    "I''ll be in touch," were his parting words to the group of shocked executives.


    None of them knew it at the time, but the meeting rooms in the Academy were also perpetually recorded, and this conversation too was recorded in the institution''s digital records.

 Ch 15 - A subtle theft

    Once seated on the train, Norman pulled up the anatomy of human lungs on his tablet. Biology had never been his strong suit.


    But as the holographic image took shape in front of him, his companion''s now-evolved understanding of the human body guided him to what he needed to see. With a few gestures, he zoomed into the inner parts of the right lung, and the tablet''s projected model annotated the parts at a more granular level. Soon he saw the red glow again - now a precise and focused outline. Over the next few minutes, as he adjusted the zoom level and panned through the model, the phantom marker shifted and highlighted the precise area where the problem lied.


    "Mervin, do you have a few minutes?" Norman burst into the other student''s study.


    Mervin, visibly annoyed, looked up from the complex three dimensional diagram he was intently focused on, "Norman, can this wait? I mean - I am glad to see you again, but I any really close to solving something."


    "No, this is more important. It''s about you, actually. I think you should go for a checkup for Pulmonary Fibrosis."


    Mervin was dumbfounded by that. After a few seconds, he recovered, "My lungs are fine, Norman."


    "No, they aren''t." Norman pushed back, "At least there is a chance they aren''t." As the confused and frustrated expression on Mervin''s face didn''t change, Norman realized how abrupt this was and how delusional he sounded. He should have planned a backstory. But he had been too focused on getting to the heart of the matter.


    "Look, I have been testing an early prototype of a system that Kiri is working on." Norman did not know why, at that point, he thought of naming Kiri. Of the hundreds of other stories he could have cooked up, in the spur of the moment, he just happened to choose the one that would eventually lead to the tragic death of his friend. "It has identified a potential marker that may indicate presence of abnormally thickened lung issue."


    At that point Mervin gathered that maybe this claim could have some substance. "Fair enough, I''ll get myself checked up. And if I end up wasting a couple hours, you owe me one."


    "Yeah, no worries; I am sure it will be alright. The device could certainly be buggy - it is a prototype, after all."


    It was not alright of course.


    Next day, Norman was woken up by an exasperated Kiri banging on his door. He had barely had a few hours of sleep.


    "Do you want to explain why I received a call from Mervin thanking me for some sort of revolutionary medical device I am supposedly working on?" Kiri demanded.


    Norman hastily dressed himself and opened his door, "Kiri, calm down. Yes, I lied but at the moment I couldn''t think of anything else. How is your leg by the way?" As if prompted by just that question, Celine let out a loud yowl and rolled over Kiri''s foot. She hadn''t had her breakfast yet.


    Kiri was not amused. "Much better than before. The doctor says I should be able to walk normally without assistance in another couple of weeks. Would have been nice if you actually came to visit once or twice when I was bedridden, you know?"


    "It is not safe for people to know we are in touch." Norman argued back.


    "Yes, rich, that coming from a person who claimed to the most talkative person of the cohort that I am working on a radical medical device that nobody knows about." Kiri continued to fume. Celine, indignant at not receiving the attention she deserved, stepped on Kiri''s foot and stood there defiantly.


    "Look, I had to think of something on the spot, ok?" Norman''s headache was once again killing him, and it was a struggle to keep his voice polite, "Your name was the first that came to my mind."


    "Give me a minute to wash up. The real problem here is something else." He decided to tell her the full extent of how the parasite had evolved.


    As Norman went away to clean up, Kiri picked up the cat gently and proceeded to refill her food bowl. Celine purred happily. Suddenly, she glanced at the cluttered bedside table in the room. Norman had gone to sleep, exploring some of the options to further enhance the project he had submitted to Zenith Fidaeus.


    The tablet was left unlocked - it was his own room, after all. As Kiri looked at the dim holograph that was still describing the results of his last simulation run, her eyes widened.


    "What is this?" She pointed towards the visualization, as Norman emerged, his face dripping.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "A project I am exploring for Zenith Fidaeus. Given that an opportunity at Protectorate is likely out-of-reach due to my new pet, I thought I would evaluate some other options." Celine briefly looked up from her food bowl, as if annoyed at the prospect of Norman having another pet, but went back to her important business after a short mew.


    "And these test results are real?" Kiri was gesture scrolling through the charts depicting the outcome of benchmarks from last night''s test run.


    "Early simulations, but yes. I think I can actually increase the energy efficiency of these defensive shields by up to 75%." Norman wiped his face and beamed.


    "That is fascinating, Norman." Kiri said, her mind somewhere else entirely.


    Over the next hour, she and Norman discussed more about the project and about how Norman''s companion was showing him indicators of organ failure in individuals. Celine had gobbled up all the food by now and settled in a comfortable position on the window sill, bathing in the early afternoon sunlight.


    At last Kiri mused, "You might want to be more cautious about what to believe and what not to, Norman. I think your ''companion'' is showing you what you want to see. Not that it is necessarily wrong, but just make sure that you don''t start trusting it blindly."


    It wasn''t as if Norman hadn''t worried about this a hundred times already, "I totally hear you, but at the end of the day it hasn''t tried to take over. It hasn''t ever tried to force me into doing anything. I am in charge."


    Kiri still looked worried, but said nothing further. After some more discussion on lighter topics, they eventually decided it was best to put the matter of this medical device to rest. If asked, she would just say that she had to abandon that device because the count of false positives was just too large. That it had worked for Mervin was more of a fluke.


    An hour after departing, Kiri came back again - "Oh, I think I took your tablet accidentally." She handed Norman the device and picked up another one that had accidentally slipped down the edge of the sofa. "Kept trying to unlock it for almost fifteen minutes," she smiled apologetically. "Hope it didn''t activate some failsafe." She gently stroked Celine on the head before leaving, and the cat narrowed its eyes happily and let out a soft purr.


    "Nah, there is no failsafe", Norman paid no attention to the matter - after all, all the academy-issued tablets were virtually identical in physical appearance. However, it hadn''t been an accident. Kiri had intentionally taken away Norman''s unlocked device and copied over the entire research on his latest project.


    After all, his innovation was useful to another group outside deep space research laboratories. Rebel insurgent groups - who often operated at extremely low budgets out of necessity.


    Naasdal, the quaint planet where Kiri had grown up, with its lush, verdant grassy hills and crystal-clear azure lakes, was once a thriving hub of interplanetary trade and commerce. Naasdal''s income was primarily driven by commerce through three wormholes easily reachable from their star system.


    However, when the galactic empire under the God King began its relentless expansion, Nasdaal''s fate was sealed. The empire, a formidable force with unmatched technological prowess, began its relentless conquest, systematically taking over wormholes and trade routes across galaxies. Through relentless internal subsidization and meticulously planned long-term deals, the empire systematically made it uneconomical for their vassals and allies to source their supplies from outside the empire.


    So soon, even the traders and industries in nearby worlds suddenly found it much more attractive to procure from guilds funded by the empire, even if the new trade routes needed more wormhole hops.


    The loss of trade revenue gradually plunged Naasdal into an abyss of poverty, leaving its once prosperous inhabitants struggling to survive. It all happened within the span of two generations.


    By the time Irvania offered to make Nasdaal a vassal state of the empire, the destitution-stricken world had no option other than to accept the God King''s terms. The planet was conquered without a single battle, without shedding a single drop of blood.


    The Helicons, a faction of Nasdaal desperate to maintain their independence, formed an alliance with a few other alien races that had also been adversely affected by the imperial expansion. They pooled their collective knowledge and resources to develop new technologies, enabling them to evade the Protectorate''s detection and maintain clandestine trade routes. Their biggest resource was the Farthaark network - a clandestine galactic communication network that the empire could not spy on.


    Kiri had grown up in a rich farming household that primarily cultivated icorice - a grain that was native to the planet and was difficult to produce in other alien geographies. The primary consumers of icorice had been the Mardhats, an ancient sea-dwelling alien race who inhabited another planet in a nearby star system. Though the Mardhats could not grow icorice in their home world, they had found the grain to be enormously beneficial for their unique anatomy.


    Thus, cultivators at Nasdaal and Mardhats had long had a healthy and prosperous trade relationship, spanning over thousands of years.


    However, over the last few years, Mardhats established numerous treaties with the empire, and month over month, their procurement of icorice from Nasdaal dwindled. So many prosperous cultivation guilds in Nasdaal saw their fortunes plummet in a matter of years, Kiri''s family among them.


    This created numerous ripple effects in the socio-political landscape. As the competition in the local markets increased, icorice prices fell. When Kiri''s family, a huge icorice producer, tried to sell icorice derived products to other customers, the smaller traders saw the writing on the wall.


    Trade rivalries got fierce, and competition devolved into anarchy. Riots ensued. Kiri''s family house was razed to the ground. It took the militia three entire days to get the situation under control. By this time, the family''s multi-hectare icorice fields had been reduced to smoldering wastelands.


    Kiri was away studying astrophysics at the academy, when she received the news that her entire family had been butchered. With no income and no degree, it seemed almost inevitable that she would have to settle for some menial job in the underbelly of the declining nation.


    But fate, it seems, had other plans for her. Her path-breaking work on applications of Saan mycelia for deep space navigation had been noticed by Helicon rebels, a faction that still believed in an independent future for Nasdaal. A future free of the empire''s control.


    For multiple years, Kiri worked with them in secrecy, helping them improve their weapons and spacecrafts.


    In the years after Nasdaal inevitably became a vassal state of the empire, they approached her with a unique proposition. Kiri didn''t believe them when the Illustrious Academy''s ten-year-old artificer curriculum was described to her. The description of some of the work done by students, even before they received their degree, seemed like things straight out of science fiction.


    But eventually, she did believe. And she did accept. This opportunity was just too other-worldly to say no to. Thanks to the financing offered by the rebel group, Kiri found herself headed towards this strange establishment. The offer came with the obvious caveat: She had to inject herself deep into the Irvanian academic hierarchy and funnel back as much of the advancements as possible back to the Helicon group.


    And she had no qualms in doing so. She pushed down her deep resentment for the empire that had ruined her homeworld, put up a smile for her Irvanian peers, studied rigorously to pass the insanely difficult entrance examinations, and stepped into the Illustrious Torus.


    She was likely the first rebel in all history to have infiltrated the most prestigious academic establishment in Irvania.

 Ch 16 - Glimpse of power

    Norman frowned at the blurry, faded Yaskin text in front of him. It was early evening, and Celine was curled up fast asleep on the corner of his table.


    This text was a new acquisition from Dr. Strauss, a historian who led mining expeditions in faraway colonies. This text was from a recent excavation in Sector 738, which their team had uncovered. The auto-generated translation was incoherent in a few places and completely incomprehensible in others, so she looked up researchers who had a proven track record of working with Yaskh artifacts and reached out to them.


    What she, and most likely many other scholars, were not aware of was that the Yaskin language was actually a pair of two different languages. The Yaskh had natural genetic memories. So for many centuries, they simply didn''t need a way to put things down in writing. The very concept of written text did not exist for them.


    It was only after their empire had grown beyond their home world, and they made contact with other civilizations, that they needed a mode of scripted communication. The Yaskh spoken language was utterly unpronounceable for other races. And so their early attempts to phonetically encode their speech met with much resistance. It was eventually superseded by a newer non-phonetic script that was based on the lowest common denominator and could be more easily adopted by their first allies. But unfortunately, this writing system had organically evolved, and many remnants of their past attempts were left behind, making the script complex and littered with special cases.


    But now, when Norman looked at the Yaskin text, he could instinctively tell which period of language evolution the text belonged to and, thus, how it should be interpreted. He had no hope of being able to read it aloud, though The human throat was still utterly unsuitable to converse in the Yaskh spoken tongue.


    Norman was pulled away from his pondering by a ding on his tablet. The academy mandated at least one elective that involved physical activity and coordination, and for Norman, that was the game of Yokidon. Celine meowed indignantly at being woken up.


    Fine, there was no easy way to avoid this now. Norman gently scratched Celine''s chin to calm her down and headed back towards the assigned stadium. He was pretty sure she''d be asleep again before he even reached the corridor.


    He had not chosen the elective because he had ever been particularly good at it. But it was just one of the few physical electives that were not entirely about physical strength and fitness. And also, he found the mechanics behind hoverboards fascinating.


    As he entered the practice arena a few people turned to face him. Bran, a redheaded guy who seemed to have an instinctive dislike for Norman, chuckled and proclaimed loudly, "Look who decided to grace us with their presence..."


    He happened to be the captain of the team Norman was assigned to. Over the course of the last three years Norman had skipped so many of the practice sessions through careful exploitation of loopholes in the rules that the team now mostly assumed they would have to play without him. And it wasn''t as if his absence made any difference. "Hey Bran, Good to see you too." Nonchalance had been Norman''s preferred shield for snarks and teasers for as long as he could remember.


    Norman picked up his hoverboard from the inventory rack and sat near the edge of the group he was assigned to. Mira, another of his team-mates who took the sport very religiously, quipped - "Do you need a refresher on the rules, Norman? We are always happy to help."


    "I am good, thanks." Norman was just glad that these offhand passive-aggressive comments never devolved into any serious bullying. Illustrious Academy was home to the elite, and his rank left no one unconvinced that he would one day occupy an important role - likely in the Protectorate or magisterium. They didn''t want to make enemies - the occasional jabs were where it ended. But for a lot of these people, sports played a significant part in their grades, and Norman being part of their team and not putting in serious effort was a perpetual point of contention. And Norman''s solution to dealing with it had been to keep a safe distance and limit his interactions to the bare necessities.


    A few minutes later, coach Sanders walked in, and his eyes briefly focused on Norman. They had had their share of unpleasant interactions in the past, but at some point, the coach decided that paying him any attention was not worth his time. So he didn''t say anything and turned to the class instead. What came next was worse, though.


    "We will have a test match today. I hope that from the last month of practice both teams are confident with their designated defenders. The results today will contribute towards your eligibility for inter-cohort trials so you would want to take this seriously."


    As the coach finished, Norman realized that every member of his team was shooting him angry glares. With a jolt, he suddenly remembered that he was the designated defender. The coach''s emphasis made a lot more sense now. It was well known that Sanders was partial to the other team. Jim Rudolf, the opposing captain who had dedicated his career to fitness research, was openly sneering at him now.


    So as the others exchanged exasperated glances, Norman tried to recall what it was he was supposed to do.


    Soon, he found himself mounted atop a hoverboard in front of a large circular goalpost suspended in midair. Norman was somewhat alarmed to discover that the limitations on heights that had been there during early practices before, had now been lifted. The team now practiced at the same elevation levels as the professional matches.


    Using both his hands, he held a long baton that he was supposed to use to prevent the zipping ball flung by the opposing team from making its way into the goalpost. In the ideal scenario, he would redirect them towards his other team members, called jostlers, who would then route them towards the goalpost defended by the opposing team. The game had supposedly evolved from an ancient sport form that did not require any specialized technology, but in its current form, Yokidon required an intricate familiarity with aerodynamics.


    For one, the ball had to never touch a player. The charged magnetic batons were the only allowed means to redirect the ball''s motion. The ball touching the ground counted as a negative for whoever propelled it last. A player landing on the floor, either intentionally or due to losing control of their hoverboard, disqualified them immediately. Fortunately, any direct attack on the players was also grounds for disqualification, but in practice numerous workarounds to trigger "accidents" were well known.


    The ball was not spherical, and the point at which the baton made contact with the ball drastically changed its future trajectory. Also, the baton lost its charge after each strike and needed a few seconds to build up the charge again. The level of charge mattered because a contact with a fully charged baton propelled the ball much further than a shorted baton.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    So as a speeding ball was rapidly gaining on him, Norman scrambled to get in its way. The amount of pressure he exerted on the right pad of the hoverboard was disproportionately higher, and so the board propelled upward chaotically and tilted leftward. While Norman scrambled to regain his balance and reorient the board to remain vertical, he had already drifted several feet away from the post, and the ball had already zipped past.


    A large, glowing scoreboard in the stadium announced a plus-one for the opposing team''s score.


    Gritting his teeth, Norman glided back to his designated location, trying hard to ignore the taunts and sneers from the opposite side as well as the angry yells from his own captain.


    Norman steeled himself for the next ball. It came at him from an oblong angle, and given his current level of competence, or rather the lack thereof, he should have completely missed it. But he didn''t. A corner of his vision flashed red. Confused, as Norman turned to locate the source of the unexpected light, he noticed the rapidly approaching ball. As he hastily adjusted his foot pressure to raise his elevation so that the ball was within range of his baton, he stumbled again, but just before he was about to over-tilt leftwards once more, the bottom-left corner of his vision went red.


    Realization clicked into place. He wasn''t participating in the game alone. He relaxed the pressure on his foot immediately, but in a game as fast-paced as Yokidon, that distraction too cost him. While he did manage to attack the speeding ball with his baton, he had no time left to position it properly. As soon as the ball touched the top end of his baton, the instant change transfer happened, and the ball was propelled towards a far side of the arena where nobody was there. Even though Mira dove after it at the maximum velocity that her hoverboard would allow, she couldn''t reach it before it plummeted to the ground. Their team lost a point, widening the difference between their scores to two.


    An emotion of deep discontent was projected into his mind. Nothing was to be done anymore, thought Norman as he glided back to his original position in front of the post. Only after he had reached, did he realize that he hadn''t really put in any effort into adjusting the foot pressure. He had retraced his path backward instinctively without looking.


    Baffled, he turned to see Mira looking at him with a frown. To his far right, Jim was also looking at him with an annoyed expression plastered on his face.


    A few seconds later, the system sprung the ball back from the center at a randomized angle. As Norman stayed put near the post, the three pairs of jostlers from opposing teams sped towards it like hungry lions.


    Richard Noland, a jostler from the opposing team, angled towards him, and suddenly something interesting happened. Norman didn''t just see a warning flash. He saw multiple faint streaks of red light. Possible courses the ball may take. As Richard''s baton connected with the ball, even before the charge had dissipated, one of the streaks got brighter and others melted away. As he reoriented himself to intercept the trajectory of the incoming ball, more streaks appeared in green - the outgoing trajectories.


    He focused on one of them, which would take the ball closer to where Bran was currently standing - in response, the other green lines immediately grew faint. At the same time, bright yellow spots appeared over the ball. Points at which he should strike.


    By the time he rotated his baton to strike the ball, the ball had reached too close. The point at which he touched was slightly lower than the yellow zone. As a result, even though the ball did fly in the general direction of Bran, he had to rapidly elevate himself to meet it, and the time to do that cost him. As soon as Bran reached the ball, so did Vernon, another player from the opposing team, and he positioned himself immaculately such that no sooner had Bran propelled the ball, he intercepted and took it away.


    Norman had managed to defend the post, but he failed to turn that into an advantage for his team. The alien sense of disappointment echoed in his mind yet again.


    As Norman smoothly rotated away from his position, he noticed Richard gaping at him open-mouthed.


    That was the point when Norman realized that maybe he didn''t have to be so incompetent at Yokidon after all.


    It took a while for someone to bring the ball towards the post yet again. Norman realized that his teammates were playing a lot more enthusiastically now. The exasperated looks were long gone.


    But when the ball did come the next time, Norman was ready. He executed the maneuver that his invisible companion suggested and managed to reroute the Ball perfectly towards Mira, who expertly whisked it away, and after shouldering through the jostlers Norman''s team scored their first goal.


    The duration of the watch was coming to a close, and it didn''t look like they would be able to score another goal. But then suddenly, Norman found the ball approaching him yet again. His companion showed him the projected trajectories again, but Norman once again found himself utterly baffled. This couldn''t be right at all.


    Nevertheless, he decided to follow along still - after all, this was just a practice match. But then, as the ball got closer and Norman reached its range, more trajectories appeared and Norman''s eyes widened as the meaning became clear. He propelled the ball at the suggested angle, and then he followed the second trajectory at a pace that made him dizzy. Before any of the other members could gather what was happening, Norman''s trajectory took him in range of the ball again. With a strong forward thrust, Norman pushed it into the opposing team''s goal post right before the timeout alert resounded through the arena.


    A sense of deep satisfaction washed through Norman''s mind.


    It wouldn''t last, though. Norman may have scored a goal, but as a defender, he didn''t have the privilege to do so. The score counter stayed inert.


    This did establish one thing, though: Norman knew the rules, but his companion did not. It could only scan through his surficial thoughts but not access arbitrary knowledge from his memory.


    As he lowered himself down to the ground, every single person was staring at him silently.


    A wave of deep exhaustion spread through his body. Had his companion been keeping his tiredness at bay somehow?


    "What the hell was that?" Coach Sanders approached.


    "Sorry, should have paid more attention to the rules." As Norman touched the ground, his feet buckled, and he had to grab hold of the wall. "Forgot that I could not score goals," he said, panting. He knew that was not what the coach was really asking, but his exhaustion was growing at an alarming rate now. Explanations would have to happen at another time.


    He hastily stacked his hoverboard on the rack. His vision was getting darker, and he was seeing phantom stars now. He heard the faint squeal of the electric train approaching from a distance. "See you guys next session," he muttered and hurried out towards the platform. He didn''t want to wait for the next revolution."


    Stumbling through the platform, he deposited himself on the soft cushion of the train and immediately drifted into sleep. And after a long time, dreams enveloped him yet again.


    He was floating in space. All around him, there was only darkness. An unyielding void.


    For a long while, there was only the abyss. He was the abyss. But then, suddenly, he saw a spark. As he focussed on the spark, he realized it was not something ephemeral - From closer, it looked more like a clustered network of golden threads. And then he saw another similar cluster next to it. And another behind.


    More and more clusters appeared. With a start, Norman realized what he was looking at. These were essence complexes - living sentient souls. Passengers in the train.


    He understood why he hadn''t been able to make progress on understanding essence-harvesting better. Why the few Yaskin texts that he had managed to procure on the topic sounded like abstract philosophy. Humans just didn''t have the natural awareness of essence the way Yaskh did. Awareness that he had now gained, thanks to the wyrmblood flowing in his veins. It was effectively a second sight.


    Norman expanded his awareness further. He could identify some twenty souls in the compartment. More beyond. As he tried to expand beyond a couple of compartments, the red warning light flashed into his vision. So it looked like his ability had limits.


    If these were essence complexes, could he... another warning light flashed as Norman tried to tinker with one of the threads. He immediately withdrew. Understanding flashed into his mind - there were no words, no exchange of messages. He just became aware that untrained essence manipulation was dangerous. He chided himself for even thinking about it - these were living people, students of the academy.


    Zooming in and out from various directions, he continued to inspect the essence complexes for some more time, when suddenly he felt like he was experiencing an earthquake. The essence-complexes remained, but tremors flowed through him. His consciousness snapped back.


    "Sir, you have been in the train for two whole revolutions. Where do you want to get down?" An attendant was shaking him, trying to wake him up. Norman blinked away his slumber. He thanked the attendant and got down to his apartment two stations later.

 Ch 17 - Echoes in the cosmos

    Hundreds of light-years away, far removed from the prying eyes of the Irvanian empire, the ring of Hal''urkata - the sacred rostrum, slowly rose from the dark, viscous pool as the deep, sonorous hum of religious chanting echoed through the dark cavern.


    On the platform stood the six members of the royal family - the most powerful people in the fledgling kingdom of Kaiyaath. As the last drops of the dark ichor dripped back into the pool, the hymn reached its crescendo.


    Once the last dong of the traditional rejuvenation ceremony sounded, Sultan Dakhir Za''Drakh opened his luminous violet eyes and, unfurling his large translucent wings, unsheathed his ceremonial daggers. The rest of his family - his wife, brother and children¡ªfollowed after him, and the dance began.


    Their daggers whirled through the night in a perfectly synchronized orchestration. As the silent crowd watched, the fast-paced, fluid series of movements intended to mirror the ceaseless flow of the sacred waters got progressively faster and faster. The family moved in perfect harmony, their swords interweaving and parting like the currents of a rushing river.


    Numaish-e-khanjar, the dance of the blade whisperers, had its ceremonial significance, but it was also unquestionably a show of strength. Performing the complete orchestration was impossible for any ordinary Kaiyaathian. It was the wyrmblood inherited by the royals that enabled them to orchestrate this mesmerizing display of artistry and power.


    As the spell-bound audience watched, the representatives of Madhab Al''Fahyat - the protectors of the one true faith, lit the sacred thuribles. As the deeply scented charcoal ignited, the swirling smoke, accompanied by the symphony of rich, heady scents, unfurled from the censers, weaving their way outwards, eventually enveloping the dancers completely. The blades too ignited, glowing red in the dark.


    Soon, only a whir of red and violet could be seen through the hypnotic tapestry of fumes. They looked like fiery, mythical monsters battling in the clouds. Time stood still as the quinquennial ceremony approached its conclusion.


    The dancers slowed their movements as the smoke dispersed, and by the time the last wafts had fled, the entire cavern was absolutely still. The audience realized that something was different this time.


    Traditionally, the ending poses of the performers in the final stance were expected to be in the order of their position in the hierarchy. But now, alongside the Sultan, Shehzada Rah''draakh, the first prince, too, stayed standing at the center, their wings fully unfolded. Shehzadi Reina''Dras and Queen Ferha''Dras had stepped back and now stood with a bent knee and their daggers horizontal. The others were further along the edges and stood on their knees with their hands on the hilt of their daggers thrust into the ground.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The concluding stance was an unmistakable statement to all of Kaiyaath. Sultan Dakhir was formally declaring his son, Rah''draakh - as the new crown prince.


    This transition had been in the works for decades.


    In the next iteration of Harlae-utafa¡ªthe ceremony of rejuvenation¡ªthe sultan would not be taking part. He had stood strong for the past two hundred years, but his role as the custodian of Kaiyaath was coming to an end now. The wyrmblood in his veins was now running too thin.


    If he pushed it further, he would be opening up his family line to unwarranted risk. Challengers were already questioning his ability to rule in secret. If anyone dared to openly challenge him now, he would almost certainly be able to crush them in combat. But what about a decade or two later? He could not have postponed this further.


    As the circle of Madhab priests finished their final prayers to Al''Fardin - the one true God, the family parted, and the Sultan made his final announcement to Kaiyaath.


    Rah''draakh was chosen - the future. The wyrmblood was strong in his veins. And he had proven himself in so many battles that nobody could question his prowess in combat. Among his peers, he had gained the title of khauf-e-nigayaf, the terror of the night skies.


    A challenge was issued, and nobody among the thousands of Kaiyaathians who had flown in from all corners of their home world found in themselves the courage to raise their blades against the renowned prince.


    Once the custodians of the religion blessed the crown prince and his sacred position, the subjects raised their ceremonial blades and began to cheer for the Khauf-e-nigayaf. The prince''s name and his title echoed through the night sky as the crowd acclaimed their future ruler. But somewhere among those cheers, the Sultan heard an old phrase that he had never expected to hear again in his life. "Al-Waharas Wthaark" - the wyrm walks again.


    Hours later, once the ceremony was concluded and the guests had gone, the sultan visited the Madhab Al''Pasha, the Madhab supreme and asked him about it.


    "While you were immersed in the wyrmblood, we intercepted a message through the Farthaark." the old priest replied.


    "A message, " the sultan''s brow furrowed, "who was it from?"


    The Farthaark was an ancient communication network built by an elder race who had perished a long time ago. The network was the only one of their innovations that had survived. It connected numerous worlds through an esoteric mechanism of subspace communication. The network offered neither speed nor convenience - but it did offer privacy from the eyes of the Irvanian Protectorate.


    "We could not trace the origin. But the message was widely broadcasted." The priest leaned on his staff.


    "And people assumed that the message was in celebration of the crown prince''s officiation," The sultan pondered.


    "Of course, what else could it be." The priest looked surprised.


    The sultan summoned his personal navigator, "Prepare for a trip to Hradikh L''mar."


    "What? Why?" The old world hadn''t been visited in hundreds of years.


    "The scribe needs to be woken."


    The navigator was dumbfounded. "But why? This will likely be the last time we''d be able to wake him. Shouldn''t we defer until some dire crisis is upon us?"


    Dakhir felt his anger surge. "Are you questioning my decision?"


    "No, not at all my Sultan." The navigator bowed out.

 Ch 18 - Pressured investigations

    Events had taken an unexpected turn at Haveskon.


    "Investigator Heusten, you have found something; I take it?" Greymus met the investigator once again in his private office.


    Heusten''s demeanor was no longer as collected as before. Scratching his now unruly beard he answered, "Yes, Sir. We have been hard at work. Thanks to your generous donations, we have gained access to some data sources that are strictly speaking not quite legal, and some new facts have come to light."


    Patience was never one of Greymus''s strengths. He snapped, "Quit the theatrics Heusten, and get to the point. Do we know anything about who killed my son or not?"


    "Look at these transport logs, Sir. According to these records, Remus took a flight out of the academy as scheduled for the Fiera Azakus system."


    Greymus was getting irritated now, "Yes, we have gone through this a dozen times. What is your point?"


    "If we look at the translation device logs, however, we see a different picture."


    "Translation device?"


    "Yes, one of the many clues that the translation device uses to better predict the context of the content is location. From the logs from the translation server, we see that the device was somewhere in Galactic Sector 59."


    That was not quite what the Senator had expected to hear, "Sector 59, why would he be in this isolated location in the middle of nowhere?"


    "What is more interesting, sir, is that the location the device was pinging from seems to be an uncharted planet. We know for a fact that the device was taken out of the ship, used in an alien atmosphere, and used to translate Yaskin text."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Yaskin?" Remus had never had anything to do with the bygone Yaskh culture.


    "Yes. The more interesting part is that we have no record of a Yaskh settlement anywhere close to that area. And that location is not easily reachable through any of the known wormholes."


    "So not only did my son find an uncharted planet, he traveled to it through an unregistered wormhole. I am willing to bet every penny in my account that he didn''t go there himself."


    Senator Ortimus had no delusions of grandeur about his son. Remus had always needed a kick in the arse to accomplish anything in life. The coward wouldn''t dare to do something like this on his own.


    "There is more, Sir. The devices the institution issues are configured to interconnect with each other to prevent redundant lookups. There was another student present in the same location."


    "You have identified an accomplice? Is it the girl?" The senator''s face lit up.


    "Yes, sir. We have also discovered that her profile is not quite clean."


    "What do you mean?"


    She has been in contact with Helicon rebel groups. We have uncovered evidence of her trading Irvanian designs for weaponry and shields with the Helicon network.


    "How does a student of the Illustrious Academy get entangled with Helicon rebels?" Greymus was astounded. It was not like any random rebel could go and sign up for the academy. The students had to undergo a very rigorous scrutiny as part of the selection process. And once in, the academy closely monitored all their activity. After all, they were being groomed for the most elite positions in the empire.


    The investigator swiped away from the logs, and opened Kiri''s profile. "She is from Naasdal."


    Ok, that made at least some sense. Naasdal was brought into Irvanian rule only a decade ago. And it was also close to the Helicon base. It was not difficult to believe that some Helicon insurgents still had some presence there. "She had been connected to them even before being accepted into the academy."


    The Senator sprung into action, "That should be enough to qualify as ground for suspicion. Bring her in."


    Heusten fidgeted, "Here is the thing, sir; strictly speaking, we shouldn''t have access to that data. And the evidence is circumstantial at best. We would not be able to push through a warrant based on this."


    A dark glare from the senator told Heusten all that he needed to hear. "Do what needs to be done."


    While the Irvanian civilization may make a huge fuss about fairness and prosperity in the public, it was an open secret that one could not rise to the senate through sheer talent and will alone. There were so many hidden hurdles and political labyrinths to be navigated that one needed deep connections and unparalleled ruthlessness. And ruthlessness was something Senator Ortimus had embraced a long, long time ago. And when it came to his son, he would go to whatever lengths necessary.

 Ch 19 - Glimpse of Darkness

    A few more weeks had passed. As Norman was headed towards the station back from the agricultural dome, a warning flashed in the corner of his vision. Keeping his walk steady, he closed his eyes and expanded his awareness. Sure enough, with his essence-sight could see two individuals following him. They were keeping their distance, and approaching cautiously in the shadows.


    He turned towards an alley. He didn''t have anything to defend himself with. The academy was an establishment of exceptional safety and security. With meticulously designed structures and state-of-the-art systems, every measure was taken to ensure the well-being of its occupants. But a quick investigation through his tablet revealed that the cameras in this area were all malfunctioning at this time. This was planned. They were deliberately targeting Norman.


    His assailants emerged from the shadows. They were both swathed in black from head to toe, leaving only their piercing eyes visible.


    One of the black clad individuals pulled out something - an electric baton. Weapons were not allowed in the campus, but in an organization filled with highly motivated smart students, people always found ways to reverse engineer the most mundane things and creatively recombine them for interesting applications.


    "We want you to withdraw from the tournament." Said the first one, a youth of lithe and agile build, attempting badly to mask his voice. If Norman had paid any attention to the people around him, he might have been able to identify the guy with his high-pitched voice alone.


    "We have worked hard for this opportunity. Our careers depend on it. We won''t have a chance in the Protectorate without a glowing track-record in physical." The other one continued. He looked more well-built and weighed at least twice as much as Norman. Not great odds.


    "You are not even planning to join the Protectorate. We looked into your ongoing project with ZF."


    Norman agreed. "It''s alright. We didn''t have to meet like this. We could have discussed this like gentlemen."


    In the corner of his vision, he saw faint red outlines against arbitrary objects. A pot of plants at the corner of side walk. A glass panel showing advertisements. A litter bin.


    "I will withdraw," he conceded.


    "You will?" The two were visibly taken aback by that.


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    Norman relaxed. Maybe there was a way to get this resolved without complicating matters. "I see where you are coming from. I just found that I was good at it. I will withdraw my membership."


    "You can''t take his word for it." The burly guy nudged his companion. "Do you really believe this guy? That he just found out one day that he was good at it. The kind of finesse he demonstrated takes dedicated practice and serious effort. We have all seen how much he used to flounder around. He is just saying it to get away from us. We won''t get this chance again."


    They activated his baton. The surrounding air crackled with energy, and sparks danced merrily at the end of the device. And there went Norman''s all hope of ending matters peacefully.


    "Yeah, we need to make sure that he cannot participate." The other decided.


    Norman picked up the flower pot. His opponents just laughed. "What are you going to do with that, Norman? Hit us with flowers?"


    As the short one tried to strike his foot, Norman pivoted - following the motions his companion suggested. He feinted, trying to throw the pot towards one of the assailants, but at the last moment his trajectory shifted. Following the red streak in his vision, he smashed the pot in the ground and changed his direction.


    Shifting, he pulled up a shard of the pot and tore through the fabric on the back of one of his assailants.


    "What the hell?" They were both surprised by that. Apparently, neither had expected an actual fight.


    The second one came at him again, his charged baton raised.


    Swiftly dodging him, Norman once again tore through a section of his shoulder, this time drawing blood.


    As he let out a surprised cry, Norman swiftly slammed his fist into a specific point under his diaphragm that was highlighted by a glowing yellow spot in his vision, and the assailant collapsed into a heap. His hood fell off.


    "Eithan, right?" Norman recognized the face.


    He turned to face the other one. "I give you one last chance. Leave me in peace, and I will not register a complaint with the authorities."


    The shorter one didn''t need to be told twice. He just dropped his retrofitted baton and ran off.


    Norman checked Eithan''s pulse and made sure he was alive. His companion showed him a red outline of the injured parts of his attacker. The damage was minor. He would come to his senses in an hour or so.


    Norman walked away, leaving him passed out on the street.


    "Strength respects strength" a thought was projected into his mind. Norman realized that this was the first time he had actually heard his companion speak. It was not real speech, though, but just words directly thrown into his mind.


    He also realized that this phrase was familiar to him. The motto of the Abyssal Khanate - one of the Yaskh guilds that had been a thorn on the side of the Protectorate for many years during its early expansions. "Seketh Rah''el Rah''el" was one of the engravings he had seen in a museum long ago. Below it had been the words, "Sal n''etef Rah''el, Ferek etef Rah''el, Surek etef Rah''el" which loosely translated to: "Strength doesn''t just destroy. It protects. It elevates."


    As he contemplated those words, a feeling of acclamation was projected into his psyche. It had at least been ten years since Norman had seen that engraving. But he now remembered it letter by letter as if he had just seen it.


    What he didn''t know at the time, was that even though all the surveillance cameras installed on the street by the academy had been vandalized, there was another one that remained operational. Hidden in the shadows, a camera mounted at the edge of a balcony in one of the nearby buildings, owned by a private individual, recorded this fight.

 Ch 20 - Unforeseen opportunities

    (Two days later)


    Norman had invited Kiri to join him in one of the shared cafeterias for a discussion on their annual project. Arianna, too, had joined them at Norman''s request.


    Over the last few weeks, Arianna and Norman had gotten closer. They''d often exchange texts deep into the night, their discussions often deviating from their project into various other aspects of life at the academy, their past lives in their home worlds, Yokidon and sometimes even galactic politics.


    Norman usually didn''t frequent public places, preferring to conduct discussions through holcoms. But over the last few weeks, he had developed a renewed appreciation for larger, open spaces.


    Kiri''s recent excuse was the reason they were meeting today. To explain her injury and absence, she had claimed to have accidentally wrecked her own leg while trying out modifications to an augmented exoskeleton. That earned her a temporary penalty, prohibiting her from working on military applications for the duration of this year. The academy took these incidents seriously, and safety breaches went into permanent records.


    So suddenly, she too found herself in need of a dissertation that was unrelated to military and defense applications, and there was nothing farther from military than agriculture. So now, here they were discussing the possibility of a collaboration.


    "You both are top-rated students. I can''t believe that you would actually suggest a direct hand on collaboration." Arianna was just as surprised by this proposal.


    "While this project is indeed interesting, we would need to expand the


    scope somewhat to accommodate a dissertation for three students." Kiri


    thought out aloud. She had been looking at the hybrid hydroponic design that Norman had sent across the day before.


    Celine, as expected, jumped from Norman''s shoulder straight into Kiri''s lap and settled there.


    Norman agreed, "Yes, my proposal is to also cover cultivation in worlds devastated by nuclear wars of ages past."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    That surprised them both, "How does that fit in here? The environmental conditions there would be entirely different. It is like a wholly different problem."


    "Not entirely. Another project I recently took up for Zenith Fidaeus involved low-power defensive shielding." Norman continued. "They have expressed some interest in sponsoring extended work on this. And they already have customers in multiple worlds that are still recovering from nuclear wars or large-scale demolitions."


    Kiri suppressed a growing sense of dread. "Oh, the benchmarks I had accidentally seen in your room the other day." Norman wondered if the slight change in color on Arianna''s face was just his imagination.


    "That actually makes a lot of sense." Kiri scratched her temples. "We will be able to combine the two works and develop fully shielded biomes that completely protect its crops from the toxic radiation."


    "Yes," Norman nodded. "The only caveat is that my current implementation is optimized for usage in outer space. Adapting that to in-ground usage - especially in a heavily contaminated atmosphere, will be a significant amount of work."


    Kiri beamed, "And while you work on the shielding front, I can look into how to salvage contaminated ground and make it cultivation worthy."


    "Wow," Arianna was visibly excited, "Three independent project tracks that complement each other perfectly."


    "Yes," Norman too smiled. "That should also earn us some bonus points from the scholarch for cross-discipline collaboration. And for addressing large-scale ecological problems to some extent."


    After another couple of minutes of light discussion on the specifics, Kiri got up. She had a few other matters to attend to.


    Norman and Arianna continued to chat for some more time. A few hours later, as they strolled up towards the corridor, they were left staring at a leaving train, which was already picking up momentum. "Argh, it will be another hour before it comes back again." Norman sighed.


    "You know, my apartment is close by. So if you didn''t want to wait you could always come over..."


    Norman opened his mouth to waive her off, but then suddenly realized what she was saying. Norman''s heart skipped a beat, and gaping, he turned to look toward her. Arianna smiled, the corners of her mouth quivering subtly, revealing just a hint of her pearly whites.


    He stared at her in disbelief, unable to come to terms with the fact that someone as vibrant and vivacious as her could see anything worthwhile in someone as eccentric and introverted as him.


    Had her eyes always been hazel? The delicate curls of her curls danced playfully around her shoulders in the evening wind.


    "Sure, let''s do that." was all he said, once he found himself able to speak again.


    Later at night, as Norman lay gazing at the slumbering form of Arianna, breathing softly in her sleep, for the first time he thought about the prospect of a shared future filled with love and companionship. He also realized that sooner or later, he would have to tell Arianna about the creature that had made itself an inseparable part of his life, and immediately his mood darkened. He felt the air grow heavy all around him - his mind a whirlpool of raw, unchecked emotions. A problem for another day, he eventually decided. But sleep was now too distant a prospect for him.

 Ch 21 - A gruesome victory

    (A month later)


    The tournament trials were a bigger event than Norman anticipated.


    At least a thousand people were gathered here to watch the twelve teams from different cohorts battle it out. Unlike the practice sessions, which were conducted in smaller stadiums within the Illustrious Torus, the actual trials were conducted on larger fields on the planet''s surface. Based on the results of these trials, the winning six teams would proceed to the next round.


    The air was thick with anticipation and excitement - the scent of freshly popped popcorn wafted in from the corners. A mass of both students and staff, clad in team colors, filled the stands; their voices echoed through the large open space as the first team emerged mounted on the hoverboards.


    As the anticipation built up towards the start of the game, the seconds ticked by like an eternity. The energy was infectious, spreading from fan to fan as the crowd jumped to their feet, waving banners and signs with unwavering support for their team.


    Arianna sat far up on one of the stands. Their eyes met, and she gleefully waved at him.


    Norman''s cohort was unfortunately the last on the list. However, the matches were time-bound to forty-five minutes. And for Norman, just watching the unrelated players was now an invaluable experience.


    As he watched the players jostle with the ball high up in the air, his companion overlaid the paths of their trajectories, as well as other potential paths they could have taken. Over the last few weeks, it had gotten even better, and he himself had gotten better at following its suggestions.


    Finally, the chime sounded and it was their team''s turn.


    As they mounted their hoverboards, a few people cheered. They were relatively unknown on campus. Norman individually was well known, but the rest of his team was not. And even among people who followed Norman, the overlap of people interested in Yokidon was relatively low.


    Their team rose up into the air. A light, gentle breeze stroked through their hairs, offering a cool respite from the summer heat.


    Their opposing team consisted of Captain Gorka, a mean-looking guy in his early twenties, accompanied by two pale, dark-haired girls who introduced themselves as Illa and Norma, and two heavily built individuals who looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties, whose names Norman gave up on.


    Over the course of the next twenty minutes, it became evident that the opposing jostlers were exceptionally proficient.


    As they brought the ball close to the post Norman was guarding, suddenly one of the jostlers straight-up collided with Norman''s board. The imbalance forced him away from the post, and the opposing team immediately scored a goal.


    Direct collisions were against the rules. So the opposing team was awarded a negative, annulling their goal. There was no protest - the captain gracefully accepted the decision and apologized.


    However, Norman began to notice irregularities after that.


    As he tried to follow the streaks shown by his companions, his hoverboard navigation attempts got imprecise. He never ended up exactly where he intended to.


    The difference was not large enough to be too obvious to the audience, but at the same time, it was imprecise enough to make his moves erratic.


    Frustration mounted as his attempt to block an incoming ball failed, and the ball he deflected got redirected towards one of the opposing jostlers who promptly picked it up and directed it into the goal post.


    He saw Captain Gorka smirk. The fingers of his left hand were subtly curved, making a vulgar gesture.


    They had done something to his hoverboard. He might be able to prove tampering - or he might not. There were plenty of ways to mask intrusions. And Norman was not a skilled hacker.


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    An alien sensation of deep indignation rose within Norman. He suppressed it, and decided to try his best to compensate for the imprecision.


    Despite his own shortcomings, his team was doing pretty well. Over the next ten minutes, they did manage to score a single goal. But the opposing team was still in the lead. And now and then, they continued to throw insults and rude gestures in their directions, dampening the experience further.


    Eventually, in the last minute of the match, captain Gorka pushed the ball towards the post at an oblique angle in a fantastic stroke. As Norman pushed himself up, suddenly his motion faltered, and he ended up several inches below. His companion immediately adjusted, though. And pointed him to a location that he couldn''t reach.


    Norman was confused for a second, but a translucent black silhouette of his hand showed him a motion. Norman was stupefied as he understood his companion''s intent. Throwing a baton was not against the rules. It was just so ridiculous that nobody really did it.


    As Norman threw his baton at a tilted angle, the ball was pushed away.


    The beaming Gorka had already turned away and was waving to a cheering crowd. He had taken off his helmet and was now roaring in the air, assuming himself to be the winner. But suddenly the crowd''s cheer died down as Norman''s flying baton deflected the ball. Mira immediately whisked away the ball towards Bran and handed Norman her own baton, effectively pulling herself away from the game.


    Gorka realized a bit too late what had happened. Steaming with anger, he incredulously glared towards Norman, and Bran scored the second goal.


    The opponent jostlers had not given up, though. After the goal, they quickly pulled the ball away. Norma blocked Mira''s every single attempt to get it back, and brought the ball back towards Norman''s post yet again. Five seconds to the end of the game.


    This time, Norman just didn''t have the time to choose among multiple complex maneuvers. He instinctively followed the brightest trajectory that his companion showed, pushed through, and deflected the ball.


    A wave of relief flooded Norman. The captain, erupting with anger, threw his helmet off onto the floor in frustration. The chime sounded, and the game ended in a draw.


    The scoreboard flashed the final score, as the announcer congratulated Norman''s team on their miraculous victory. The commenter went on and on about how he had never seen anyone use the baton in a similar manner. Some of the opposing jostlers continued to howl that this unconventional usage should be penalized.


    In all the chaos and shouting, nobody paid any attention to the ball.


    The ball ricocheted off the protective barricading at an angle. It then bounced off the adjacent wall which deflected it towards the arena. Still speeding at an immense speed, it hit Gorka in the head with a sickening thud. The unprotected head shattered like a ripe melon.


    The stadium grew absolutely quiet. The audience watched in horror as the captain crumbled to the ground, his body twitching and convulsing in his final moments.


    Norman was too dazed for several moments to make sense of what he saw. He saw the splatter of blood; he saw gravity mercilessly pull the captain down; he heard the thud as his body hit the ground face first, and then he looked at him sprawled awkwardly on the ground. It took him several seconds to connect them all and make sense of what had happened. What his companion had done. What he had done. After a few minutes, he saw Arianna get up and walk away.


    It was only after two hours of utter chaos that Norman was able to leave the grounds. The team was held back by members of the Protectorate; their statements were taken, and footage was reviewed from numerous angles. Accidents such as these were not common. There was a one in a billion chance of something like this happening, and yet it did happen. Eventually, Norman was cleared of any wrongdoing. To willingly orchestrate something like this would require precision beyond the capabilities of any human. The match was declared a draw.


    He walked out of the Yokidon stadium. It was almost dark by then. As he walked out, he looked towards the empty stands. He looked toward where Arianna had sat. The ground had been cleared away, but he vividly remembered the blood splatter.


    He first thought of taking a pod back up, but then decided against it. Not too far from the stadium was the route he had trekked through during his first visit to the ground.


    The ground level of the planet consisted mostly of agricultural fields, a few large wildlife reserves, and a few mining sites. Though most of the academic activities were conducted in the Illustrious Torus, students did occasionally venture down for on-ground expeditions.


    Norman remembered the first time he looked at the academy complex from the ground during a trekking expedition. The torus, forged from a rare, strong alloy, shimmered in the ethereal glow of the gas giant''s iridescent atmosphere. It was a mesmerizing sight¡ªa glittering ribbon of metal that stretched endlessly around the planet, vanishing into the infinite void beyond.


    His mind wandered off to the creature that nested in his foot. He remembered the sea of black tentacles from the alien world. A darker, sinister imagination unfolded in his mind. He visualized the tendrils of darkness wrapping around the torus, reducing it to ashes and dust...


    He had to calm his mind - tear it away from such thoughts. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he started running.


    He ran for a mile. Then two miles. He blocked off all thought and just let his heart pound in his chest and the wind splash against his face.


    He could run faster than he could ever before. Even sweating profusely, he didn''t falter.


    He eventually reached a curve, around which the ground fell off into a steep descent.


    Norman couldn''t help but catch his breath at the breathtaking sight before him. In the far north, high mountains loomed majestically. Its rugged peaks, draped in a tapestry of emerald green vegetation, reached for the clear, azure sky.


    The descent led to a deep, old ravine, carved through eons by the relentless forces of water and wind. The trench, with its jagged, toothy edges, had the look of a great, gaping maw, its depths hidden in shadow. He couldn''t help but feel a sense of awe and wonder as he stood there, taking in the breathtaking panorama before me. This hidden gem, nestled deep within the heart of the land, was truly a sight to behold.


    The late-evening sun cast long, golden rays of light across the landscape. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the sweet scent of pine and the melodic song of birds. He could have stayed there for hours, taking in the beauty and tranquility of the moment, but eventually, he knew it was time to move forward with what he had truly come here to do.


    What had he come here to do?


    A part deep of mind, deep inside, knew. Even though he had suppressed it - forced the thoughts from resurfacing, deep within, he had known for a while what he needed to do.


    Before the parasite could react, Norman stepped over the guardrails and jumped into the ravine. The Nightwyrms in the hidden world may be all powerful, the envoy with him was only a fragment of the collective. And it was now the time to test its limits.

 Ch 22 - A glimpse of past

    A sense of deep anger and disappointment echoed through his mind as the wind whipped through his hair. Norman chuckled - he was getting all too familiar with that emotion.


    He plunged into the water, and the waves greeted him with a dark embrace. The first contact with the water was a shock, a jolt that seemed to pierce his very soul. The icy chill seeped into his bones, stealing his breath away. As the water closed in around him, Norman could feel the world around him begin to fade.


    The last thought that crossed his mind was Arianna. He imagined the look of pain and disappointment on her face when she found out that Norman was gone.


    The colors around him grew muted, the sounds of the world muffled, until all that remained was the icy water and the bitter cold that threatened to consume him. Darkness swallowed him, and Norman gave in. Their icy cold caress was a welcome relief from the blossoming pain in his leg.


    Norman woke.


    His first realization was that he was not wet. But... why should he be? He had not touched water in years.


    The night sky was dark. He was standing near a circular stone embankment. A cold wind washed over him.


    His second realization was that he was naked. But... why shouldn''t he be? This is how he was born. This is how he had been all his life.


    He heard a rustle in the woods. He turned to look toward the source instinctively. With steep vertical trunks rising high into the sky and then abruptly fanning out to form a dense canopy hundreds of feet overhead, the trees were unlike any he had ever seen. But... the trees were exactly as they had been for the last three months he had spent in this forsaken forest.


    A short screech was heard, immediately followed by a mechanical whirring. Humans. Norman''s confused mind tried to reconcile the sense of disgust that had emanated within him, but then he noticed the weapon he had instinctively pulled out.


    A weapon he had never seen before... A weapon he had trained with since the moment he had hatched. As had his father and his grandfather. And the ancestors before him.


    What he held in his hands looked like a spine. Ridged and bony. He held its polished hilt forward at an inclined angle to the floor, and the curved spine trailed upwards behind him. To the spine was attached an array of blades. Shaped not very unlike the feathers of a bird, the blades were tightly packed, making the weapon look like a sword with a jagged edge. But he knew the demonclaw could be so much more.


    The weapon was heavy, but his hands didn''t feel weighed down. They had no reason to be - at this point, the weapon was practically an extension of him. In fact, his own blood flowed through it.


    His hands... His triple-hinged, triple-clawed hands. As they had been since the day he had come to this world.


    As he weaved his way through the foliage, eventually he found the source. In front of him, a man stood. Clad in the dark suits that humans used to compensate for their deficiencies. Before him lay the smoking ruin of his companion, Raul''Drahar - who had fought with him for more than two hundred years. And now he had been reduced to a charred husk. Through his bonds, he tried to reach out to the other comrades. But they could also not be reached. Raging anger swelled within him, but he pushed it down. Such was not the way of the Khanate. "Wafaat rahaatieh" he offered to the void beyond the frayed bonds. "May death be divine."


    His purpose came first. And he still had the element of surprise. He could still protect the Khatuun.


    If he failed now, the Abyssal Khanate would be extinguished forever. And Waz''lhim could make sure that didn''t happen. A thousand years of glory and history would not be obliterated by this pesky race of weaklings that kept multiplying like insects and had no respect for their domain.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    The human soldier''s face was completely hidden. Three bright red streaks could be seen on his helmet arranged like spokes on a wheel. Norman realized with a start that he was familiar with the symbol. The Man was a part of the Irathian troop, which eventually became the Irvanian militia, which then transformed into the galactic armada, and eventually, after Irathor took on the mantle of the God king and established the Irvanian empire - it became the Protectorate. Norman knew what was going to happen. A part of him wanted to warn the human soldier. As he watched, the man relaxed his grip on his prehistoric assault gun to adjust his comms to relay the message to his team - "East perimeter secured."


    But Norman also knew there was nothing he could do to prevent the outcome of this encounter. What he was witnessing had already happened and he was just an observer.


    But he wasn''t just looking at it. He could feel his chest - Waz''lhim''s chest pumping. He could feel his body sweating, his anger, his rage. He was participating in an ancient battle. From the other side.


    His attention snapped back.


    These invaders had threatened the existence of the Khanate. They needed to be shown their place.


    He felt his heart warming up. One of his hearts. He didn''t feel alarmed, though. As he raised the daemon clan from within the shadows. The all-too-familiar visual overlays showed him exactly where his blades would hit. He was familiar with the suit. He knew where the weak points were. When he rotated his wrist, the spine of the weapon curled, and the moment he was satisfied with the orientation, red-hot blades shot out and impaled the warrior.


    Footsteps of other humans approached. Acting quick, he picked up the man''s comms and listened to them. As he stepped closer to the fallen human, he felt the dispatched blades snap back into their designated slots on the spine.


    Over the next twenty minutes, weaving his path through obscure corners of the dense dark foliage, he slaughtered more and more of the human troops.


    Suddenly, a burst of fire from the direction of the burrow alerted him.


    He had been distracted. The enemy had already reached the barrow. They were going after the Khatuun.


    While she was occupied bringing the next generation of the Khanate to life, the Khatuun was vulnerable. To attack her at this time was utter cowardice. But it wasn''t like the humans had ever cared about honor.


    Waz''lhim rushed towards the burrow. Five enemy soldiers had found the entrance and lead an assault in. He was still at an advantage though. None of these invaders knew the burrow as intimately as he did.


    He made his way around the numerous hatches where the eggs were clustered. The enemy had not yet paid any attention to the eggs, they were too focused on the living, and that was their first mistake.


    As the group of brave human soldiers descended down the spiraling burrow, their torches flickered as feeble beacons against the encroaching abyss. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, and the silence was broken only by the labored breathing of the men and the drip of water echoing in the cavernous space.


    A tall, heavily built man led the team forward at a measured pace, his eyes scanning the shadows with a keen, wary gaze. His comrades followed close behind, their weapons poised and ready.


    As they reached the halfway point, the natural staircase began to twist and turn more sharply, the darkness deepening and the air growing colder. Their boots had been sinking deeper and deeper into the mud of the floor.


    Suddenly, the invisible enemy sprang from the shadows, striking down the soldier at the tail end of the queue and dragging him away into the shadows. Their comrades reacted with a barrage of gunfire, but Waz''lhim had already disappeared into one of the numerous small lanes that connected with the main burrow, forming a complex maze.


    One by one, the other soldiers fell too, their cries of terror echoed through the narrow corridors of the burrow. A few who attempted to pursue Waz''lhim into the side lanes were the ones to meet the most gruesome deaths. The demonclaw was never kind, but cruelty was a broad spectrum too. The leader fought bravely at the front, but he was soon separated from the rest of his team.


    He managed to reach the bottom. Alone.


    But just as the commander raised his gun to strike down the Khatuun, Waz''lhim was there behind him. His claw exploded out of the soldier''s mouth and the fountain of blood washed over the queen of the burrow. Khatunn opened her deep violet eye.


    Waz''lhim''s work was done. He fell on his knees.


    As she pushed out one final pulse through the web that connected all of her eggs, Waz''lhim heard the first cracks.


    In the distance, he could hear the whirring sounds of more human vessels landing. Reinforcements were on the way.


    But Waz''lhim feared nothing now. He could feel the first of the new generation emerge out of their eggs and connect their minds to the hive.


    The queen raised up her chitinous body and uncoiled. Facing Waz''lhim, she raised a single claw and pushed it through his chest. Wyrmblood from her body flowed into him. His body welcomed the release. His muscles strengthened, his back arched, and after a moment of excruciating agony new limbs emerged.


    Waz''lhim was officially a member of the Had''layakh - the elite, the Queen''s own.


    As more footsteps approached the burrow, the Queen turned towards the newcomers. Her jaw expanded, unfolding into four large petal-like segments lined with serrated teeth, and in a scream that tore through the silence of the night, she called upon her children to take arms.


    Her newly hatched children emerged from darkness, every one inheriting memories, skills and expertise of their ancestors.


    Waz''lhim raised his daemon claw, and roared to answer the Khatuun''s cry. And with him roared the new generation of the Abyssal Khanate.

 Ch 23 - New perspectives

    "You do not know the value of what you throw away." The proclamation echoed in his mind over and over again. The creature seldom used words when communicating, but now it seemed that was more of a choice than a limitation.


    Norman woke.


    He had somehow made his way to a muddy river bank a few leagues away. An old guard had found him and was now thumping on his chest. He turned aside and retched.


    The experience was burned in his mind - The memories of the Yaskh warrior.


    "What the hell were you doing in the waters, boy?" The guard bore into him once he was moderately stable and had sat up.


    Norman racked his brain to come up with a story, but eventually decided to just go with a version of truth, "I jumped. The pressure has been getting to me lately. I regret doing it now."


    After enduring a brief lecture on the amount of effort and money the academy puts into their education and how his family would be utterly heartbroken, Norman was finally let go. After some pleading, the guard agreed not to report the incident to the academy. He had to promise that he would never try anything like this again.


    While taking the pod back to the torus, and then the train back to his apartment, only one thought echoed in Norman''s mind again and again: He had been denied the privilege to die. And that was unacceptable.


    Arianna was waiting for him in front of his apartment. "Where the hell did you go? Do you know how many times I have called you..."


    Norman stammered, "After what happened to Gorka, I couldn''t bear it. I needed some air - needed to be alone." He was unable to bring himself to tell her that he had tried taking his own life.


    Her eyes were red - she had been crying. "So you intended that ball to hit him? Did you really mean to kill him?"


    "No". Norman replied. He braced himself for the inevitable. Some part of him knew this relationship could not go on - she was just too good for him.


    "Then why didn''t you push the ball towards one of your own jostlers? Why did you push it sideways where nobody was there?"


    Norman remained silent. He didn''t have an answer. Not one that would make sense, that is.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "He messed with your hoverboard, didn''t he? I saw how you staggered." Arianna continued after a brief pause.


    "I think he did." Norman nodded.


    "And you still found a way to make sure he didn''t win!" Arianna was practically yelling at him now.


    "I didn''t intend to kill him." Norman quietly replied.


    "I''d like to believe that you didn''t. I''d really like to. I want to believe that you aren''t capable of cold-blooded murder. But the math in front of me just doesn''t add up. Do you know what the probability of such an accident is? It is the first death during Yokidon in the academy - in all its known history."


    Norman told her then. There was no other option. He told her all of it. About their trip to the planet in Sector 59. About the creature who had come back. About how it had been helping her.


    Arianna sat down. For a long while, she said nothing.


    "We will figure out a way." she eventually said, her voice a whisper.


    That was not what Norman expected to hear. But a glimmer of hope ignited within him again. Yet, he added, "I don''t think I can get rid of it. I have tried Arianna, I have tried so many things... It is difficult to get rid of something that can peer into your every thought, stop your every action."


    They sat holding hands for several minutes in silence. Eventually, she said, "Maybe you don''t have to."


    "I am sorry?" Norman looked at her incredulously.


    "Get rid of it, I mean." Arianna continued, "You are the brightest student in the academy? Perhaps you will find a way to suppress it. Or even, control it?"


    When Norman just continued to gape at her, she continued further, "I mean the Yaskh had coexisted with the wyrms for centuries, right? They had managed to keep it contained. It didn''t spread out and take over all of humanity, yes? And it did mention it had disagreements with the Saan? They are certainly powerful enough to destroy it, if it tries to break free?"


    "It is evil, Arianna!" Norman suppressed the blossoming pain in his legs, and forced through his words, "The things it is capable of. The things it had shown me. What it did to Gorka. It is dangerous to have an infestation like this hiding in plain sight inside one of the most powerful institutions in Irvania."


    Arianna continued to play the Devil''s advocate: "It is not asking to be unleashed, is it? Maybe it is just showing you what would happen if someone evil were to gain access to the Wyrm-field. Or what had actually happened when someone evil did access. The incident with Gorka was heinous, but I am confident you will get better at controlling it given time."


    Norman looked down at the floor. He imagined the blood splatter once more. The scene of the ball crashing into Gorka''s frustrated face, his skull caving in, the fountain of blood... he shut his eyes.


    Arianna continued, "You know it better than anyone, Norman. No technology and no life form, at its core, is inherently good or bad. It all boils down to what it is used for and who it is used by."


    Norman gazed into the distance for a while as thoughts churned in his head. Had he truly been objective? All that they had explicitly asked from him was that they wanted to find a safe haven. Could much of what he had been shown, truly be a warning? Was there a chance he actually could find a way that enabled not just him, but the Irvanian society at large, to control the wyrms?


    Norman could not sleep. Long after Arianna had fallen asleep, he kept reminiscing about the words that Arianna had spoken.


    Could he really envision a life where this parasite was perpetually a part of his life? He imagined the darkness pooling in the shadows of the dimly lit room. He imagined the walls cracking, the ceiling dripping with blood.


    He got up and began to research more on Saan. So much of Irvanian technology relied on the alien mycelial network that was spread throughout the sub-dimensional substrate of the universe, and yet they were taught so little about it.

 Ch 24 - A Compromise

    The next morning, Norman decided to actually start working on the core problem in a more systematic manner. All this time, he had been too focused on his own research and goals, and the promise he had made to the Nightwyrms had fallen aside. Even if it was too complex a problem for him at this point, he needed to start somewhere. And after all, problem-solving was his specialty.


    "Wizard level perfection demands machine level dedication." That was the motto of the Illustrious Academy. One that was hammered into the students countless times over the years.


    He started thinking about what would actually be needed to make this safe haven a reality. Firstly, he would have to understand the purgatory better. Unlike a lot of other scholars before him, he did have access to a real purgatory he could learn from. But he would need to go there once again - better equipped, better informed. With Remus out of the picture, it was an expensive trip that he had no way to finance.


    So he started on a solution to that. He felt an approving emotion bubble up from his companion.


    Acquiring a spacecraft was a complex business. But luckily, they still had the ship, which they used, tucked away in a safe location.


    The next problem was fuel - Zythramine, whose production and acquisition were highly regulated. Anyone attempting to procure Zythramine had to submit an application with the Protectorate ahead of time stating the purpose and request their approval. Remus had managed to access it through underground channels that his family had access to. But Norman had never inquired about the specifics, and now was too late to ask him.


    The next option was to manufacture it himself. Manufacturing production-grade Zythramine was an insidiously complex affair, and chemistry was again not his key area of specialization. However, with the help of intelligent tools and the vast references that the academy provided, he began to explore all possible options. After all, he was Norman. Chemistry may not have been his specialization, but focused, deep exploration absolutely was.


    Of course, access to ready-to-use recipes for synthesizing the restricted substance was out of the question. So he would need to synthesize other substances in adjacent families that could be converted to Zythramine. Most of the related compounds were themselves notoriously difficult to manufacture. So, using the academy resources, Norman traced back numerous chains of derivations that could potentially lead to Zythramine. Each chain needed evaluation from cost and risk assessment perspectives, making the task doubly hard.


    Norman spent most of the night exploring these synthesis chains.


    The exploration went on for the next day. He ate one single meal a day and continued to dissect and analyze. The complexity was also exacerbated by the requirement that any starting material had to be non-regulated, too. Ideally, he would want to get something that could be acquired from academy supplies without raising questions.


    The next evening, he had two approaches that looked interesting. Neither was particularly simple, and both required the construction of specialized apparatus that would take many days.


    Norman persisted. Days bled into weeks.


    Thankfully, Kiri''s past experience with industrial manufacturing was potentially useful for the apparatus he needed. Together, over many hit and trials they managed to assemble all the infrastructure that would enable them to synthesize the complete sequence of intermediate compounds leading to Zythramine.


    A month later, they had their first cup of production grade Zythramine.


    Sure, the process was nowhere as efficient as industrial production, and safeguards were almost non-existent, but it worked. Together, they had managed to achieve something unprecedented.


    The next problem was food. Long distance space travel required highly concentrated food tablets where a single tablet could sustain an individual for entire days. Their production was also highly regulated.


    But fortunately that was exactly the kind of thing that Arianna had been researching for the past three years. It boiled down to getting the right set of ingredients to post-process the algal extracts into a non-perishable form. Thankfully most of these were not regulated.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Three days later, Norman sat in front of a simmering beaker that contained a bubbling green liquid. For the synthesis of one of the constituents, he needed to let it simmer to a specific temperature. That temperature had been reached two seconds ago.


    Norman let it boil.


    A red warning flashed into his vision. If left to boil further, it was likely to explode.


    Norman steeled himself. And did nothing.


    The red flashes in his vision got intense. The liquid was reaching a supercritical temperature now. The Zythramine they had produced before was, unsurprisingly, highly flammable and was also stored in this very room. If the ignition reached the Zythramine, the resulting explosion was guaranteed to take down the entire complex. There was a good reason why the production of Zythramine was regulated.


    An emotion of unfiltered deep fury emanated from deep within him. His companion had figured out what was happening here.


    "Get out." Norman thought back coldly.


    The liquid bubbling in front of him turned red.


    Norman''s leg exploded in pain. His hands clenched and unclenched in spasms, trying to find some relief from the relentless torment. He clutched the arm of his chair, his knuckles turning white and his nails digging deep into the wood. Still, he did nothing.


    Norman had counted on this creature not being able to fully parse the nuances of the human thought process. He did want to manufacture Zythramine. He did want to travel back to the purgatory. But deep within, he was also looking for an opportunity like this.


    Norman had formed this plan and acted upon it in a split second. He had not planned ahead on using this particular chemical at this specific time.


    A thin flame appeared around the edges of the vigorously boiling liquid. And Norman simply didn''t know what to do to stop the combustion at this point. Sure, given enough time, the creature could make him find out what to do, but time was not on its side. He had been denied the privilege to end his own life, and this was his revenge.


    Norman forced himself to sit back, despite the wildfire coursing through his veins. His vision began to blur, the edges of his sight darkening as if shrouded in a veil. His breaths grew shorter and shallower, the air escaping him in ragged gasps. He still did nothing.


    Tendrils of darkness seeped out of his foot. The surrounding room began to spin, the walls closed in, and the pain intensified a thousandfold. With a final, choked cry, Norman''s consciousness receded, his body collapsing in on itself, surrendering to the all-consuming darkness.


    The beaker exploded. The explosion splattered the red-hot liquid across the room. The Zythramine didn''t explode.


    There was a real possibility of it exploding. If the ultra-hot liquid managed to break through the glass vials in which Zythramine was stored. After percolating through the insulated cabinet where the vials themselves were stored. It was not impossible. Just that, the probability of it happening was around 0.00001%. Norman instinctively understood the low probability; he just chose to focus his mind on the possibility of it happening.


    The last thing Norman remembered was Celine letting out an utterly painful moan.


    When Norman came back to his senses, he was sprawled out on his floor. His skin had numerous burns where the splattered liquid had come into contact with it. The room under him was littered with glass shards, and he was bleeding from a dozen minor wounds.


    Celine stood on his chest. The cat had changed. Celine''s eyes were glowing red, and dark, flowing tendrils spread out behind her. They writhed and twisted, as if reaching out to ensnare anything that came near. The darkness they carried was palpable¡ªa tangible force that choked the air and stifled the very essence of life.


    The once-familiar purr that had once brought comfort to the weary now echoed with a sinister undertone, a sound that promised pain and suffering. The cat''s breath was a fetid stench, a noxious cloud that choked the very air around it.


    "What the hell?" He uttered. The bulbs in the room flickered as Celine''s dark form drank all the light in its vicinity.


    A voice projected into his mind - "We need a living soul to mask our identity from the Saan. You forced us to do this to your pet." It was reminiscent of the voices he had heard inside the purgatory. Each word seemed to come from a different direction, at a slightly different pitch and frequency.


    "I forced you to do nothing." Norman felt his temper rising again. "You could have chosen death. There are worse fates."


    The creature did not respond.


    "Is Celine dead?" Norman asked after a few moments of utterly comfortable silence.


    "No." The voice reverberated around him, "She is just as alive as you were when we had bonded with you."


    "Wait, if I am no longer your host, how can I hear your voice?"


    "You have wyrmblood flowing in your veins. You are part of the hive." The voice answered. "It is not easy for us to adapt our responses to your language. But we have been learning."


    "A hive? That''s basically just the two of us?" As Norman got up, Celine flowed across the room like a specter, guided by the ghostly tentacles.


    "For now, yes."


    Dusting the detritus off his clothing, Norman looked around the room. Debris and fragments of various sizes, shapes, and materials were scattered haphazardly, some still smoldering or emitting acrid fumes. Soot, char, and scorch marks could be seen on all the walls. Curtains were signed and tattered.


    "So, what happens next?" he asked. He just hoped nobody nearby had heard the explosion and notified the authorities.


    "You have demonstrated that you are willing to throw away your life. But are you willing to throw away the life of your pet?"


    Norman knew the answer. And so did the creature.


    "Fulfill your promise to us. Find us a safe-haven. Your pet will not be harmed. We understand that you do not appreciate the extent of our intrusion into your life. We have overreached - and now we withdraw."


    "Withdraw?" Norman was obviously skeptical. "So no more tampering with my senses?"


    "No. You will be able to talk to us. But your life is your own." The voice echoed. "Our trust in your abilities still holds strong - we do not want you to throw away your life. You may very well be our last hope."

 Ch 25 - Wicked Interrogations

    "We did not kill Remus" Kiri pleaded as another bolt of electricity shot through her.


    She had been invited to a networking meetup with a group of representatives from an organization that was well known for its industrial manufacturing expertise, her own specialization. But on her way, her bubble ship had been intercepted. By a god damned garbage trawling ship of all things.


    "Yes, yes, you have said that a thousand times already." Flavia adjusted the controls on the device. "What we are interested in are the details. Where is this uncharted planet where you claim this creature killed Remus."


    The room around looked like a part of some abandoned industrial complex. The walls were rough-hewn from the rawest of stones, each surface pockmarked with the remnants of old mineral deposits. Rusted metallic beams supported the roof. The floor was a cold, unforgiving expanse of polished concrete. Deposits of dark soot and rusty stains could be seen in many corners.


    "I don''t know," Kiri whimpered as her head exploded once again into searing agony. Rivulets of sweat and grime continued to drip onto the floor below. Her hollow chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, each one a testament to the excruciating suffering she had endured for the last few days. She was now on the edge of losing her sanity.


    "It is somewhere in Sector 49; I don''t know the details." Kiri yelled. So far, she had managed to keep Norman''s involvement a secret. She owned him that much. But that was proving to be too hard.


    "That doesn''t make any sense. Our star-charts indicate that it will take five years to navigate to Sector 49." Flavia had intended to end this interrogation in a few hours. But it had dragged on for days, and each minute now pushed the limits of her patience. She forced her chip up to look at her eyes.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "There is a wormhole that skips through Sector 46 and 45 completely." Kiri sobbed.


    "Two kids discovered a new wormhole?" The chances of that happening was so astronomically low that Flavia did not believe her for a second.


    "We found it by accident. I don''t know where it is precisely." Forcing out every word was a fresh torment for Kiri at this point.


    "Stop this stupidity," Flavia slapped Kiri''s already bruised face - hard. "If you didn''t know its location precisely, how the hell did you come back?"


    Flavia suddenly remembered something. Something that she had almost forgotten about. She had spent weeks digging deep into everything Remus had been doing before he died.


    And one of the most bizarre expenses that he had splurged on for no apparent reason was a restoration of an old Yaskh treatise. She pulled the restoration up on her tablet and searched through it.


    "This wouldn''t be the wormhole you were referring to, would it?" The tablet projected a hologram of the page where its location was described. An incomplete translation and numerous cross-references appeared adjacent to it - past unsuccessful attempts to find that wormhole.


    "Very interesting. Somehow you managed to decipher the instructions that professional expedition guilds have not been able to." Flavia, scratched her chin. "Except it wasn''t you who did it, was it?"


    She scrolled through the list of past student projects. Academy records of student projects were not confidential. Student profiles were publicly published too. Eventually, she stopped scrolling as she found a profile that was the perfect fit.


    "Norman Ferus." Right below the very prominent award that he had received just a year ago for reverse engineering of Yaskh artifacts was a list of his current projects. The very first one on that list included Kiri as a collaborator.


    Flavia''s smile turned into a snarl when she saw his score.


    "Well, he will have ample opportunity to demonstrate how smart he is."


    Kiri gave in to the encroaching darkness.

 Ch 26 - A diversion gone wrong

    "We cannot bring in Norman without concrete proof. His absence will be noticed." Heusten increasingly felt that this entire chain of events was approaching scrutiny from the Protectorate. As much as he benefited from the Senator''s favor, he was not keen on risking his job for the man. And if he did lose his job, he''d also immediately lose all his usefulness to his rich benefactor.


    Greymus was unfazed. Over the months, his anger had transformed into a smoldering rage that burned through him every waking moment. "Yes. I recall his name; his sponsor was someone prominent, was he not?"


    "Yes - Councilor Leptimus." A highly prominent war hero from the Protectorate. Even if he was retired now, Greymus didn''t doubt that he held a lot of sway through the numerous prominent connections he had cultivated over the decades of his service. And if his protege were to suddenly find himself in the clutches of Protectorate, he would surely find out in a matter of minutes. If Leptimus were to raise hell, Greymus wasn''t sure all his connections and resources would be enough to drive through an interrogation.


    Yet, there was not a chance that Greymus would give this guy a free pass. Not when his son''s death was involved. And if he did manage to ruin the career of Leptimus''s favored student without getting implicated, it would only strengthen his image in the society. Strength respects strength. His face hardened.


    "I''ll set up a pretext. We''ll find a way to question him discreetly."


    Heusten sighed.


    The next morning, Norman received a new message from Dr. Strauss, the historian he had been collaborating with. They had discovered some more esoteric Yaskh artifacts and were seeking Norman''s help in uncovering their purpose. The collaboration would need to happen on the site of excavation in Sector 738.


    This was an opportunity to be at the forefront of new developments and so Norman accepted. The only caveat was the wormholes through which the journey had to take place led through disputed territories and therefore an escort from the Protectorate would be needed to accompany Norman. The escort was none other than Heusten D''Gar.


    Norman had been waiting near the SVoyLPad (space voyager landing/launch pad) for twenty minutes, when a dark rugged deep space voyager descended to the ground. Heusten found Norman intently reading on his tablet near the station.


    He felt a bit sorry for what was about to happen to the young man. He had seen the official reports on Norman. He was considered to be an academic genius. Heusten had a hard time trying to reconcile the image of this young man with that of someone who had witnessed and tried to cover up a murder. If he had reported the incident straight to the Protectorate, he likely would have only been set back in his career. But now, a much darker fate awaited him.


    "Norman Ferus?" He asked, and getting up, Norman just nodded. Celine took the liberty to jump straight into the spacecraft.


    Heusten frowned, "Must the cat come?"


    "Unfortunately, yes. She has some special needs. She can''t stay away for me for long." Norman smiled, "She is fully vaccinated though, if that is your concern." His eyes never left the complex three dimensional model he had been exploring on his tablet.


    "Fair enough, " Heusten didn''t argue further.


    After getting up, Norman found himself seated in a comfortable recliner. Heusten made a casual attempt at small-talk, "First time on a deep space voyage?"


    Norman shrugged, "No, I was born in Micrian colony."


    Heusten had read that in his file before, but was still curious about the many details that the reports didn''t cover. "So how does a student from far-flung Micria end up in the Illustrious Academy?" Norman was not officially a suspect in any case, so a lot of his past background was redacted in the files Heusten had received.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Norman continued to tap through the parameters in the model he was exploring. "I got lucky. Won the FGO solo. That earned some attention, including my sponsor, Mr. Leptimus. Who offered to cover my tuition here."


    Heusten would not have been able to put this in more modest terms, no matter how hard he tried. The competition, the Fredritch Ganthar Olympiad, that Norman had won was something typically reserved for professionals who had gone through at least four years of specialized training. And they, too, usually participated in groups. Norman would have been one of the fewest solo participants to have won the tournament in all of its existence. No wonder Leptimus was impressed. Heusten still could not fully comprehend what havoc awaited when he discovered Norman missing.


    Shifting focus, Norman activated a navigation utility on his tablet and glanced through the route they were taking. The engine had started now, and the station was long behind them. Noticing the live map, Heusten arched his eyebrow. "You can sit back and relax, Mr. Norman. We have done this many times. You have no reason to worry."


    "No you haven''t." Norman''s reply was calm and blunt as he dismissed the map and went back to his model.


    "I am sorry?" That was the first time Heusten realized that something may have gone awry with his plan.


    "This is your first trip as an escort to this sector. You are rank 10 in the Protectorate. This kind of escort duty is way beneath you. And even when you were rising through the ranks, because of your specialized skills you never served as an escort for deep space operations."


    "Interesting. You seem to have looked into my background. That''s surprising. Most travelers barely pay any attention to their escorts." Heusten tried to salvage the situation. He really didn''t want to have to subdue and restrain the kid.


    "Well, Greymus has a formidable reputation. One has to be careful; nobody would know that better than you, Mr. Heusten?"


    Heusten felt tiny beads of perspiration formed inconspicuously on his forehead, betraying his inner turmoil.


    "What do you wish to achieve here, Mr. Norman." He decided to set aside the pretense.


    "In another five minutes, we will emerge from Wormhole Iradius IV. You will divert from there because of a fuel blockage issue in this craft and then reroute to the world of Minhauthus, which just happens to be in Sector 23, where the wormhole leads."


    "You and I both know I can''t really do that Mr. Norman." No easy way to avoid conflict now. Heusten steeled himself for what was to come.


    "Of course, you can." Norman''s voice remained unruffled and untroubled, conveying an air of calm indifference, "We are on a Protectorate vessel. You are a Protectorate commander with enough authority to reroute course. All you have to do is command."


    Heusten wondered if the lights had been gradually growing dimmer over the last few minutes. And where the hell had that cat gone?


    "It will be easier for you to come willingly." He asserted.


    "And if I don''t?" Norman met his gaze for the first time. That was not the kind of frosty glare that Heusten would have expected from a young academic.


    "Then I would have to force you." Heusten said with gritted teeth.


    "I wonder how that would happen." Norman smiled. There was nothing pleasant in that expression.


    Heusten felt his throat tighten. His eyes were getting hazier. He could barely see a few feet away.


    He tried to move his hands, but realized that he couldn''t.


    After a beep, the driver spoke through the comms, "Sir, Something is wrong. I can''t move."


    Heusten''s heart began to race, each beat thundering in his chest. His stomach twisted in knots, and he could not shake the feeling that he may not be getting out of this vessel alive.


    Norman gestured to his tablet, and the projection of the model he had been tinkering with grew three-fold in size.


    "Do you know what this composition is, Mr. Heusten?It is Norvis IV - something used for Ramsecton treatment." Heusten felt like he was going to have a heart attack. Ramsecton was the deficiency his brother was suffering from.


    As Norman gestured again, the device showed Norvis IV combining with another medicine.


    "While Ramsecton is very hard to cure, it is unfortunately incredibly easy to convert Norvis IV into something that is poisonous. And the interesting thing is that this can be done entirely using substances that would be very commonly found in a hospital like Martin Yeustor''s." As we waved his fingers, the compound transformed into another. He next pulled up the risk assessment analysis. The worlds "FATAL" in bright red appeared overlaid over the image.


    "If we land on Minhauthus, you may be able to reach Ramsen-III in a seven hour journey." Ramsen-III was the planet where Martin Yeustor Krankenhaus was located - where his brother Mortem was currently admitted.


    "And what a coincidence, the time beyond which this particular poison damages the body beyond the point of no return is..." he tapped through on his tablet again, "... nine hours. Quite adequate if you make haste, wouldn''t you agree, Mr. Heusten?"


    Heusten gulped, his face ashen.


    Norman tapped through his tablet again, and the tablet projected three documents side by side. A receipt for a ship ride from Illustrious torus to Ramsen-III. A visitor''s entry confirmation for Yeustor Krakenhaus. And a receipt for the ship ride back. All electronically verified. All mentioning Norman''s name.


    As he glanced at each document, Heusten felt his growing trepidation gnawing at him. Eventually, he spoke on the comm, "Wilson, prepare for emergency landing on Minhauthus."


    He would later find that there was nothing wrong with his brother at all. Norman did visit that world, but his reasons were entirely different. He never even met Mortem, let alone poison him.

 Ch 27 - Demonclaw

    Norman disembarked off the SVoyLPad on Minhauthus, and stepped into the capital city of Katikus. He had not chosen this location on a whim. Celine followed behind him, her tail high up in the air.


    This location was connected to the Yaskh. In fact, this planet was one of the few historical sites where the Yaskh had come in touch with human civilization.


    Minhauthus was currently best known for its spice production. A large variety of seasonal spices native to the planet had come to be recognized as delicacies far and wide across the planet. So, not surprisingly, as he directed the driver of his pre-hired hydraulic rover to lead him towards the location of the old relics he remembered from his visions, he found himself speeding through acres and acres of spice fields.


    The multicolor farms around him stretched out as far as the eye could see, a vibrant mosaic of hues that seemed to defy the very laws of nature. The air was thick with the scent of rich soil and the crisp aroma of ripening crops.


    He hoped that the structure still stood and hadn''t been ravaged completely by the passage of time. Unlike the ziggurat, this was not something designed for maximal durability and security. At least the weather here was a lot more pleasant. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting long shadows across the sprawling landscape.


    As he approached the old Yaskh burrow, he noticed that a few shops had been set up around it, and many people were wandering around the area. It looked to be a tourist attraction, but not one that was particularly prominent. As he approached the complex, a couple of stout-looking Katican natives approached him: "Welcome traveler, I can be your guide for this ancient historical site, for a very modest fee of 0.9 sols. Over the last five years, I have guided hundreds of tourists through this old Yaskh settlement." One of them held up some sort of badge with a certification seal.


    The fee was indeed modest but Norman didn''t want the company. And also he doubted there was anything these tourist guides could tell him that he couldn''t find out from his companion.


    "I am a researcher; I can find my way." He said in the second generation simplified Yaskin and the astonished native thought better than to argue further. Interesting that Yaskin was still known to the natives.


    As he walked through the dilapidated circular corridors around the burrow, he reconciled the ramshackle ruins around him with the structure he remembered from his vision. The roofs and arches around the structure constructed by later generations were all gone now - only some pillars remained. As he entered deeper into the structure, he came face to face with the oldest construction - the burrow itself. A hole that extended half a league deep into the ground. The surrounding area was completely restricted by Yellow tape. Norman waited for the few remaining tourists to disperse, then ducked down the tape and ventured in.


    Along the single spiraling pathway that descended into the abyss were small hatches¡ªplaces for incubating eggs.


    Birth control was a core tenet of the Yaskh culture. Their eggs could last for centuries in an inert state. Warriors would contribute their seed to the burrow as part of the sacred annual ceremony of Harak''Uthalha and the queen would keep the eggs protected until a time of crisis came upon them. The Yaskhs born would inherit much of the knowledge and skill of their forefathers. In contrast to human births, it was more akin to reincarnation.


    Norman walked down and came across a few broken husks of eggshells. A lot of this structure was unstable; his shoes kept sinking into the detritus that had accumulated over the years. And the burrow was not designed for humans in the first place - the steps were too steep and too narrow. Norman tried hard not to imagine what would happen if he fell. Of course, none of this was an issue for Celine, who effortlessly led the way.


    Eventually, diverting off to a narrow lane from the main pathway, he arrived at a small semicircular underground opening. In a corner, shrouded in shadows and covered in cobwebs, there was a rack from which a couple of hilts were protruding out. As he placed his hand on the hilt, it pierced his skin. Wyrmblood coursed out and impregnated the weapon. The weapon obeyed.


    He pulled out the demonclaw and walked over to a wider opening at the base of the burrow. The space was dimly illuminated by the crimson evening sunlight filtering in from the hole far above.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Norman closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to ground himself. He could feel the memories of Waz''lhim, the Yaskh warrior whose memories he had reexperienced, resurfacing. He could feel the weapon in his hands beckoning him.


    With a grace and fluidity that belied his experience, he raised the demonclaw. The blade seemed to come alive in his hands, as if it held the soul of the dance within it. He began to move, his body swaying and weaving through the air, each step and twirl imbued with the power of the ancient art.


    The dance was complex, an intricate interplay of footwork, agility, and swordplay. With every leap and spin, Norman brought the blade down in precise arcs, slicing through the air as if to cleave the very essence of the world around him. His movements were a testament to the mastery of the warrior long past, a dance born of the need to survive in the face of unyielding adversity.


    The dance was a reminder of the tenuous balance between life and death, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, one could find the strength to persevere.


    As he unfolded the weapon in one final sweep, he suddenly noticed he wasn''t alone. In the shadows, there was someone watching him. A child.


    When Norman called out after him, the child ran. He followed.


    The kid wove through the narrow passages and deep tunnels of the borrow with the obvious familiarity of someone who frequented these depths often. Norman struggled to keep track of him.


    Eventually though, he cornered him in a cavern.


    The child''s eyes were wide with fear. The rags he wore were dripping with sweat and were plastered to his skinny frame. "What is your name?" Norman asked.


    "F-Fortis." The Katican boy stammered, "We often sneak down here. I only saw you practice. It''s just like the drawings."


    "What drawings?" Norman was curious now.


    The child pointed towards the distant wall.


    The rough stone walls of the structure were adorned with faded drawings, their vibrant colors now muted by the relentless march of time. The ancient drawings were distinctly human - at some point, after the Khanate were evicted from the burrow, people had taken shelter there. Among these relics of the past, one image stood out from the rest: the depiction of a warrior performing a sword dance.


    Norman hadn''t noticed the images before in the darkness. But as he brought his flare closer to the walls, he could distinctly see many of the steps that he had just performed from memory, illustrated on the walls.


    The alien warrior''s body was in motion; his legs bent, and his torso twisted in an elegant curve. His feet were imprinted on the stone, their intricate patterns revealing the steps of the dance. The intricacies of the warrior''s movements had once been captured in minute detail, though entire sections had now been wiped out.


    "We have tried pulling out those swords many times. How did you do it?"


    "I am stronger than I look." Norman muttered; he was still looking at the depictions on the wall with awe. When he turned back, his heart skipped a beat.


    Celine was perched on a ridge far up. A single dark tendril had curled its way down the pillar and was now barely a foot away from the kid''s throat.


    "No," Norman barked. Surprised, the kid staggered back. The tendril dissipated. Celine withdrew into the darkness.


    "If I give you a sol, do you promise to tell nobody about what you saw here?" Norman tempered his voice.


    "A full sol?" The child squawked, "Yes, yes. I didn''t see anything. But I don''t have a Sol shard right now."


    Norman was surprised that Sol shards were still in use. Standardizing the use of sol as a currency in all the vassals had been a Herculean effort for the empire. A lot of the cultures were too attached to the concept of using valuable metals for exchange. Replacing that with something ephemeral that only existed in records was a huge shift for them. The push for adoption of a centralized digital identity database was also in its early stages at the time.


    The compromise the empire eventually settled on for vassal states was the concept of sol shards - Small crystal shards, that could absorb and hold on to a precious liquid called solemnus. The combination was quite remarkable - while the shards could be easily manufactured in most geographies, solemnus itself was extremely rare and could only be extracted from a dying red star through an advanced manufacturing process the empire closely guarded.


    This way, the people could hold on to something tangible that was not necessarily tied to their identity, and the empire could curb pilferage. It was intended to be a short-term solution, but well, it had hung around for only a century or so longer.


    "Come to the Valsohm hotel within the next three hours. Ask for Wilhem Sardius." Norman had a booking under a fake name. If sol shards were still in use on this planet, the hotel would have an exchange reserve.


    "Ok. Can... Can I go now?" The child stammered, visibly scared and excited at the same time.


    "Yes." Norman turned.


    The child had scampered away up the staircase but turned back at the last moment, "Wait, How do you plan to sneak that out? If you''d like, I can help with that. We know a few hidden tunnels that you won''t be able to crawl through."


    Norman hadn''t thought of that. Sure enough, he would not be able to walk away with an ancient relic casually past the security that patrolled the area.


    "Fair enough. Bring it to the hotel." Norman handed him the demonclaw. For some reason, he found it easy to trust the child.


    Neither of them knew it at the time, but that idea had saved the kid''s life.

 Ch 28 - Missteps

    Norman had barely slept for an hour when a loud knock sounded on the door. He assumed that it was the kid from before - he pulled down his sweat-soaked tunic and unlatched the door. He had already acquired a sol shard from the reception, paying a ridiculous exchange fee.


    No sooner had the door opened just a crack, a towering colossus of a man pushed through. A heavily muscled foot planted itself on Norman''s chest. Caught off guard, Norman had no chance to react. The impact sent him reeling, his body crashing against the cold, unforgiving walls of the room. Stars burst before his eyes, and the world spun around him.


    The man who walked was a veritable behemoth¡ªa towering giant of muscle and power. His skin was so pale, it was almost white, and his hair matched the color too. Behind the albino, a lithe woman followed. She looked to be in her thirties and was immaculately dressed in a deep blue business suit. With an upright and unyielding posture, she radiated an air of authority and self-assurance.


    At a different time, Norman may have admired her appearance. But now dazed and disoriented on the ground, Norman felt his anger rising - the lights in the room flickered.


    "What a shit hole" The girl looked around, "You didn''t expect it to be this easy to run away from us, did you?"


    Norman had barely managed to push himself off the ground, when her heel connected with his chin and sent him tumbling back down yet again. The brute who accompanied her slammed the door shut.


    "Who are you? What do you want?" Norman pushed down the rage building within him as best as he could.


    "Are you really dumb? Or do you think we too are as easy to get rid of as that officer you bribed?"


    As Norman focused on her, the resemblance slowly became more clear. The same hair, the same shape of nose - Remus''s sister - Flavia Ortimus.


    "I didn''t bribe anyone." He finally managed to get up on his feet.


    "I have a proposition for you." She sat down on the couch, with her brute companion taking the one next. The chair where Celine was curled up a moment ago.


    "I am listening," Norman said with gritted teeth, sitting down opposite her.


    "I want to know the location of the planet where Remus died. And yes, we know you three were there together, so no more stupid misdirections please. You tell me how to reach this planet, and in return I''d get you a new, clean identity." She leaned forward. "It will be untraceable."


    The gears in Norman''s brain were turning. That the Ortimus family had seen through the deception was a surprise, but that possibility had always been there. With the kind of wealth they had at their disposal, even the tiniest of mistakes on their part could blow the entire thing open. However, there was something else amiss here. "Why would I want a new identity?"


    "Would you rather end up in a cell for the rest of your life?" She arched an eyebrow.


    "A cell? For life?" Norman was still confused. "All I did was find an abandoned planet and venture in without notifying the Protectorate first. The maximum penalty for that is five thousand sol. The criminal record from covering up a murder, will likely ruin my chances at a job in the Protectorate, but I am confident I will be able to build back a career in the industry. I don''t have to start from scratch." He would anyway never be able to rejoin the Academy with a fake identity. No matter how good Flavia''s resources were, some fabricated records would not hold water under the Academy''s scrutiny. So there went any chances of a respectable career in either the Protectorate or the Magisterium.


    Flavia stared at him incredulously.


    Norman continued, trying to sound as calm as possible, "We didn''t kill Norman. And he had walked there of his own free will."


    "You are supposed to be really smart, Mr. Norman. But I don''t know why you are so intent on acting stupid. We know about your dealings with the Helicon rebels."


    Norman sat up straight, "What rebels?"


    "We are talking about your project for Zenith Fidaeus. We know you also supplied it to the rebel factions in Nasdaal. Do you think anybody in the industry would work with you once that becomes a part of your permanent record?"


    Norman felt like his world was turned upside down. "What the hell are you talking about?"


    Flavia''s eyes widened as the realization hit: "You were not involved at all? It was all Kiri''s doing?"


    "Kiri?" Norman felt the situation was rapidly spiraling beyond his control. Could Kiri have really jeopardized both their careers by ingratiating herself with some random rebel group?


    "Kiri has been involved with Helicon rebels for a long time, Mr. Norman. You may not have been involved, but unfortunately, the outcome is still going to be the same. Our offer still stands."


    "My tablet," she held her hand out, and received the device. Her eyes were so focused on Norman that she didn''t realize that the thing that handed her the tablet was not the brute who had accompanied her.


    His companion had decided to take matters into its own hands. Tentacles? Norman chose not to object. He couldn''t think of a better way to get out of this mess anymore.


    She tapped through, and a holographic video of a translucent defensive aegis, deployed in a deep space warship, unfolded in front of them. Norman gritted his teeth as the system overlaid relevant statistics on top of the video. There was no doubt that this was his innovation, repurposed.


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    "Where is Kiri?" Norman suddenly remembered that he hadn''t spoken to her since their last meeting. He had called her once between but the call never went through. Among all the other things going on Norman had lost track.


    "In Protectorate custody. There is nothing you can do about her."


    Norman noticed the slight twitch in the corner of her eye. A slight change in her heartbeat. She was lying.


    "No she isn''t." Norman smiled, "If the Protectorate had her, their forces would already have surrounded this hotel and I would be facing an official inquisitor. It wouldn''t have been you sitting here making me offers. I think I''m more inclined to take my chances with the Protectorate."


    "You are too smart for your own good, Mr. Norman. Unfortunately that option is no longer available to you." The lights flickered again. Celine was getting exasperated by her tone of authority.


    "Enough of this. Atticus, bring him." She got up and walked toward the door. The matter was apparently settled.


    Atticus did not follow.


    Frowning when she turned back, she looked at her bodyguard for the first time.


    Atticus lay rigidly on the plush cushions. His eyes, wide and glassy, stared vacantly up towards the stained ceiling, their depths empty. His lips, cracked and tinged with blue, were parted in a silent scream. A thin, cold, sweat glistened on his brow, mingling with the beads of perspiration that clung to his upper lips. His hands, limp and lifeless, hung loose from the sides. Utter astonishment transformed Flavia''s face completely. "Atticus?"


    She was too shocked to see the darkness coalescing around her.


    She tried to pull a gun from within her jacket, but it was as if her hands were wading through molten wax. Before she could even reach her pocket, the darkness materialized into a sold tendril around her hand and twisted it back. Flavia was slammed against a wall with a thundering force.


    "Not until I get some answers, Ms. Flavia." Norman got up. One of the lights had dimmed down to barely a flicker, and the others were also struggling too. Flavia was now bathed in sweat and furiously struggling to free herself.


    "The creature from that planet. You brought it out with you." Flavia''s voice trembled. Her eyes, confident and bright a few moments ago, were now clouded with fear and anxiety. Her chest heaved with each labored breath, and her heart pounded in her chest like a wild drum.


    "Necessary price, for survival," Norman muttered. "But let us not meander here. Where is Kiri?"


    Before she could say anything, a soft thud sounded. Flavia had left the door open, and the young Katican boy had stepped into the room silently. With an utterly horrified expression, he looked at Flavia strapped against the wall and the huge, bloodied body of the albino on the sofa.


    "I... I came ... to... bring ... your ... sword." he stammered.


    "Thank you, Fortis, was it?" Norman looked into his eyes calmly. He took two steps back, "Yes... yes sir."


    Norman took out his shard, "As promised, Fortis. Here is your sol for your troubles. You haven''t forgotten what we discussed about discretion, yes?" Norman glanced at the albino, "Seems like these two have."


    "No... No sir. Not at all."


    "Good then, you have your reward, Fortis." He handed the shard to the child.


    With shaky hands Fortis grabbed the shard, and stammered back, "Thank... thank you, sir. " Gulping he took another couple of steps, walking backward, and then broke into a run down the stairs.


    "So now, we have a witness who will be able to place you here, should daddy get interested." Norman was increasingly sure that the Senator was not aware of this offer. Flavia was taking an independent initiative.


    He picked up the demonclaw, and as he fed it more of his blood, its spine curled and its blades unfolded. "Let''s discuss what you really want. I am pretty sure that it isn''t revenge for Remus that you are after. The way I look at it, I might as well have done you a favor - aren''t you the sole heir of Ortimus conglomerate now?"


    "You will never be able to get away from this..." Flavia struggled through gasping breaths.


    Norman had been exploring essence harvesting with a renewed vigor over the last few weeks. He found that as he familiarized himself with the topic, he gained a few rather strange abilities.


    Kaiyaathians were the only known practitioners of essence-harvesting in the present-day universe - and the backward race had crudely labeled the practice as blood-sorcery.


    Norman had always dismissed that as a misunderstanding, but over the last couple weeks, he did find that essence flow and blood circulation were closely intertwined.


    As his control had improved, he had found himself able to alter the circulation of blood in his own body. And for the first time, today he tried it on someone else. There was more resistance, more opposition as he tried to re-purpose the life-essence of a sentient being. But eventually he did manage to wrestle his way in.


    So now, as he saw Flavia struggling to rein in her oxygen-deprived heart, for the first time he witnessed how effective weaponized hypoxia could be as a torture device. Her heartbeat accelerated, and as her brain reacted with increased confusion and restlessness, an intense trepidation and anxiety set in.


    Her limbs were now instruments of frenzied motion, as she fought to free herself from her invisible bindings. The tailored fabric that had once accentuated her figure now dug cruelly into her flesh, leaving raw, angry marks that only added to her sense of urgency.


    "Wrong answer." The demonclaw felt as if it were part of his own body. He twitched the blade that was now inches away from Flavia''s throat and the sharp blade tore open the button of her collar.


    "Do you really want to do this all-day, Flavia? I would rather not have further bloodshed, but if need be, I won''t shy away from it." The metallic button struck the floor with a sharp, resonant clang. Bouncing twice it eventually came to rest and the room was silent again.


    "The purgatory ... is important." Flavia, at last, decided to force the words out through rasping breaths.


    "The what?" This was the first time Norman had come across this term.


    "What you found... My father doesn''t know it yet, but it is a purgatory. Please..."


    The bonds around her throat relaxed. Norman relinquished his tampering with her blood flow.


    "Purgatories are not common knowledge. But elder civilizations used them to trap beings that could not be easily killed - in the conventional sense of the word. A being trapped inside purgatory experiences the laws of physics differently - time, distance etc. are all re-mapped through a complex system of rules."


    This was fascinating, but Norman still felt like he wasn''t seeing the full picture. "Alright, that still doesn''t answer my question. What do you really want?"


    "We do not have the knowledge to build purgatories, but if we find one, they would be immensely profitable."


    And there it was. Norman had been sure that somehow this would connect to money. He had never met Flavia in person before, but her reputation as a ruthless businesswoman was well known.


    This was a whole new dimension that Norman had never thought about before. "So if a fabrication process is expensive because it takes too much time, if we could perform it inside a purgatory where time is dilated, it would not stay expensive anymore."


    "Yes. That is just one instance. There are many ways to adapt industrial processes to be massively profitable when the usual constraints of physics are malleable."


    "What about the residents of the purgatory?" Norman was sure the Nightwyrm wouldn''t be too happy about someone setting up a processing plant in their prison. He also chose to omit the fact that this particular purgatory seemed to be breaking down.


    "We would obviously need to arrive at a mutually beneficial arrangement, but we are getting ahead of ourselves here..." Flavia''s posture had relaxed somewhat, and now a tone of annoyance was seeping back in.


    Norman still had one lingering question, "Interesting. And I have a feeling your father doesn''t share your enthusiasm about commercializing purgatories?"


    "The God King''s mandate is to seal and block all purgatories. My father will never risk getting on his bad side."


    "Fair enough. " The bonds dissipated away completely, "My companion and I have a vested interest in ensuring that this purgatory does not get destroyed. How about we partner to make use of this purgatory constructively?"


    "That can work... My father will never stop looking for you though."


    "Let me think about your father. I appreciate your heads-up about the rebel group, though."


    "So will you tell me where the purgatory is?"


    Norman laughed at that. "Of course not; the moment you know the location, my utility is redundant. With the resources you have, Flavia, I am sure you will find some or other way to get rid of me. How about you tell me where I can learn more about purgatories?"


    "My father has a Yaskh archive. He also engineered a solution to read their storage slabs." Ok, that would solve two of Norman''s biggest issues.


    "Alright, why don''t we go meet your father."

 Ch 29 - Long due encounters

    Deep into the winter, Haveskon was beautiful this time of the year. Blanketed in a pristine layer of fresh snow, the modern city reminded Norman of the children''s tales of a magical and enchanting wonderland. The usually bustling streets were now hushed, and the crisp air carried the soft crunching of footsteps and the gentle hush of snowfall. The city''s numerous towering glass buildings reflected the twinkling lights of the holiday season, casting a gentle glow all over the landscape.


    Norman and Flavia walked into the Ortimus estate through the expansive and opulent front gate. They were immediately ushered in by the virtual intelligence - Aranius that oversaw the operations of the estate. A pacing and visibly angry Greymus was waiting for them in the guest hall.


    "Finally." Greymus exclaimed. "You are a resourceful man, Mr. Norman." Norman had wondered if Flavia would find some way to notify the family ahead of time and if he would be walking into an ambush. But it didn''t look like Greymus had any clue about their new collaboration. The angry obese man reminded Norman of a fat cat growling in anger.


    "What can I say, I have had the best teachers." Norman looked around. His unconcerned demeanor only seemed to fan Greymus''s anger further.


    "So, Mr. Norman, why don''t you tell us the route to this Yaskh settlement that you accidentally stumbled upon, and we can all leave this sordid business behind us? If you cooperate, your life ... and maybe even your career may still be salvaged."


    "I''d need access to your Yaskh archives first." Norman took the liberty to seat himself on one of the plush velvety sofas. Celine casually settled herself on one of the shelves next to a vase. Everyone else continued to stand.


    "Excuse me?" Greymus exploded.


    "I may have promised him access to our Yaskh archives in exchange for his cooperation." Flavia''s voice was strained.


    "Exchange?" Greymus scoffed. "Mr. Norman, do you have any idea where you are standing? Do you think you are in a position to make demands?"


    "Dad. It would be better if you let me handle this. He can be dangerous." Flavia tried to salvage the situation.


    "Like hell, I will. You have done your job. Good work. I''ll take it from here."


    "Third floor, 5th gate from the right." Flavia muttered and exited the room.


    "I thought you were one of the brightest students at the academy. Do you really not see that you have no choice in the matter?"


    Norman inhaled deep, and expanded his awareness. He could now sense the life essence of all the people in the building. He wasn''t sure what Aranius was capable of, but apart from a few servants and a few mechatron guards, the main building didn''t have many people. Flavia had omitted anything about a centralized intelligence governing the estate, and now Norman was sure the omission was intentional.


    He thought to Celine, "Well you wanted access to leadership of our people. This is the highest that I can reach. Why don''t you take charge for once?"


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    Celine grew. First the vase next to her toppled, and then the entire shelf. Deep tendrils of darkness seeped out from her, and her eyes gleamed red in the dark.


    "What the hell?" For the first time, Greymus felt like maybe he was not in charge after all. The lights flickered across the room.


    Before he could say anything else, a flood of tentacles enveloped him. Two of the mechatron guards in the room rushed towards him as he screamed, but they were swept aside before they could even analyze what they were facing. The virtual intelligence was alerted by the disturbance, and from the hidden slots in the ceiling, two automated laser launchers emerged. The room was plunged into chaos as the assault weapons rapidly fired on the writhing tentacles, only for them to effortlessly weave away and around them.


    Norman had long left. Reaching the fifth gate, he pulled out a glass ampule from his coat. The ampule held an eye. Remus''s eye. The security in the archive scanned the eye and opened its gate. The family still hadn''t deactivated his access. Norman entered and plugged himself into one of the terminals.


    The archive terminals had a direct line of access to the imperial library. After a couple minutes of searching, he found a complete, unredacted collection of Yaskh texts from multiple recovery sites. It took him a whole hour to trick the organization system with believing that it was actually Greymus accessing the archives. Eventually though, using a rootkit that Flavia had shared with him earlier, he managed to get unrestricted access.


    The library only had a few references to purgatories. There were apparently four known gates within the Irvanian empire. Their locations were highly classified, but there was an elaborate research paper by an academic who had dedicated his life to understanding them better. As he scrolled through the pages, Norman realized that the level of physics needed to understand it was far beyond his current comprehension skills. So he copied over the documents and moved on. His next quest was to understand how the wormholes worked.


    As he dove in, Norman found himself overwhelmed yet again. There was actually enough evidence that Wormholes were originally created by the Nightwyrm. They had to pass through a star - no other energy source was powerful enough to initiate a spatial distortion. Creating a wormhole usually resulted in the complete collapse of that star. In the case of Yaskh, they had, on multiple occasions, intentionally killed off stars supporting enemy worlds, causing entire planets to fall into ruin. Norman assumed that the nightmares he had been subjected to depicted one such instance.


    In fact, genocides like that had attracted the attention of elder races. Minor wars and trifles between races were too insignificant for beings who planned strategies at the scales of hundreds of centuries. But the demolition of entire star systems and distorting spatial curvature did affect even their plans. The leading theorists hypothesized that one such race had either eliminated or trapped the Nightwyrms to stop them from interfering with our realm.


    As with all studies directly related to galactic security, these documents were L9 classified and accessible only to the upper echelons of the Protectorate.


    Accessing each of these resources triggered a deduction of a few thousand sols from the Ortimus account balance, but Norman had a feeling the Senator would not mind.


    Meanwhile, the senator sat on his couch, silent. The gunfire had died down, and the tendrils of darkness had long dissipated. Before Aranius could attempt to notify the estate''s security, electrical lines had been disrupted, and that entire floor was now plunged into darkness.


    To anyone else, Greymus would have just looked like someone deep in meditation. He sat tranquil amid an absolute mayhem. Inside his mind though, a storm raged.


    The Nightwyrm fragment that had planted itself on his arm showed him what the elder power could help him accomplish. It offered him riches beyond the wildest of his dreams. He saw himself at the helm of the empire, the immense power of the Nightwyrms at his disposal.


    The senator was a greedy man, utterly ruthless toward his competitors. But he was also a renowned strategist and well-read. He had studied the history of the rise and fall of numerous civilizations.


    He may have done some hideous things to rise to the position of Senator. But the one thing he was not was disloyal to the empire. Deep down, he always knew that everything he could have accomplished was because the God King had kept anarchy at bay. He could not betray that. He would not betray the core founding principles of Irvania.


    After hours of silent battle, he managed to force through the invasion in his mind. He yelled, "Aranius, confine the premises. L9 biohazard situation..." Aranius may have been cut off from the floor, but there was also a secondary security mechanism that independently operated on standby. As one of the richest people in the empire, the Senator had spent millions on the security of his home.


    The moment he uttered the words "L9 biohazard", the backup system sprung into action. Every door was immediately sealed. A high-priority notification was sent out to the upper echelons of the Protectorate.


    When the Protectorate arrived, they found the senator sitting on his drawing room sofa. He looked almost at peace with himself. Except for the splatter of blood on the wall to his left side. The senator had shot himself before he could say anything about the Nightwyrm.


    Systematically, soldiers swept the room one by one. Once they entered his private archive, they found Norman deeply engrossed in research.

 Ch 30 - A trail of blood

    Heusten was living through a nightmare. Pulled out of sleep late at night by a code red alert, he was now looking at the prime suspect, who was just casually sipping coffee in Ortimus''s study. Behind him were five members of the Protectorate - all tense and confused. Another fifteen investigators were still busy sweeping every inch of the compound for potential hazards.


    "You know nothing about the murders?" the investigator seemed to have aged a dozen years since Norman saw him last.


    "Murders?" Norman quirked an eyebrow, "I heard some disturbance outside. But when I tried to go out I found myself locked in."


    "Can we please start from the beginning?" Investigator Cornelia, Heusten''s peer, sounded exasperated. This had been the strangest of the days for all of them.


    "Oh, the senator mentioned that he could use help with some of the Yaskh translations. That happens to be one of my specializations."


    "One of your specializations... and you are still a fourth year student?" Cornelia''s frown was getting deeper, but her companion nudged and handed her a tablet from behind. The display had Norman''s profile open.


    "GPA 4.99" Her eyes widened. "I haven''t seen grades higher than four... ever."


    "He has been receiving the highest scores in the last ninety-five years since his first evaluation." Her companion quietly explained.


    Heusten stayed silent. He could not, of course, reveal his association with the Ortimus family to the Protectorate. So he just pretended to have never met Norman - which worked for Norman just fine.


    "And you were never given any access card for this room?"


    "No. I was accompanied into the study by Mr. Greymus himself. It was supposed to be a short meeting. So I was very surprised when I found myself locked into this study for hours."


    The interrogation continued for another hour. But there was just no evidence linking any events to Norman. No grounds for an extended detention.


    The Aranius system was found to have been utterly wrecked. All digital evidence of the last several hours was obliterated. While he was led to a separate section of the building for medical inspection, he saw a few cabinets still smoking.


    The medical inspection, too, came completely clean.


    This was the reason why Norman had visited Martin Yeustor''s. After spending months trying to figure out how to get rid of the wyrmblood from his system, he had realized one day that it was easier to work around the problem.


    When the Wyrm had reminded him of the motto of the Abyssal Khanate - he also remembered another exhibit in the museum. An exhibit depicting Yaskh anatomy - which featured multiple hearts.


    His official pretext for visiting Martin Yeustor''s was to see Mervin, who was getting treated there. But once inside, he had been able to bribe a resident surgeon, Dr. Ragnus to perform an off the record surgical implant. The same doctor also helped him steal one of the hospital''s decommissioned blood purification devices.


    So now, Norman''s right hand had a small micro-circulator, of his own design, embedded within, that circulated a small sample of his purified blood, through a single artificial artery that looped around his arm. The doctor had positioned this artificial artery such it would be exactly where the primary radial artery would normally be. So when the examiners had drawn blood for inspection, following their standard process, they were actually extracting a purified sample of the blood.


    This would be easily caught by full scan, but the inspectors saw no reason to perform one here. Norman was not injured.


    He, Flavia and Celine waited for the inspection to complete in a small but comfortable guestroom. The room provided quite a nice view of the snowy landscape outside, but it was marred by the huge Protectorate vehicles and a stream of armored investigators coming and going.


    Norman had the weird notion that Celine, loafing in a corner, was eyeing Flavia strangely every now and then, but other than that they stayed silent the whole time.


    Flavia longed to lash out, to unleash the torrent of emotions that threatened to consume her, but she knew that to do so would only add fuel to the flames of her disgrace.


    Instead, she drew upon the last vestiges of her strength and forced herself to remain silent, her anger a smoldering ember, biding its time in the depths of her heart.


    She also didn''t try very hard to pretend to be devastated. Norman couldn''t even imagine what tears would look like on her face. She didn''t seem to have shared anything about her past encounter with Norman with the investigators.


    In the early hours of the morning, Heusten unlocked their room, "Looks like you both are free to go." The bustle of activity had died down, and the strong, sterile smell of antiseptic wafted in from outside.


    Norman got up, "Mr Heusten, why don''t you take me to Kiri."


    Heusten''s face darkened by a notch. "I doubt that is a great idea." He looked at Flavia questioningly.


    Flavia shot at him with a voice laced with simmering anger, "Come with me. Discreetly."


    They waited for the Protectorate to completely clear out, and then took a private hovercraft to a different part of the city. After another couple minutes of silent walk through grimey alleyways, they arrived at a large, seemingly abandoned manufacturing unit. Using a noisy, janky elevator to reach the basement, she unlocked a door using an old-school metallic key.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The air was heavy with the acrid stench of decay and the metallic tang of blood. Within the dimly lit recesses of the basement, a figure could be seen in the dark. Norman had a hard time recognizing his friend. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, were now dulled by anguish. Her once delicate features were twisted into a mask of pain, as if carved from the very stone that comprised the warehouse''s walls.


    Celine let out an angry yowl. Flavia turned to kick the cat, but she had already moved away.


    Kiri was barely covered by the tattered rags, and smudges of dried blood across her arms and thighs bore unquestionable evidence of torment. A thick chain bound her wrists, the links gnarled and rusted from disuse. Besides the various grotesque contraptions littered about in the room, the scars that criss-crossed her torso, back, and limbs were ample evidence of the horrors that she had endured.


    Her dark hair was matted with sweat and grime, and hung in tangled clumps around her face, obscuring her vision with their disarray.


    Norman felt Heusten tense beside him. He may have facilitated this, but he hadn''t known the full extent of what had happened here.


    Flavia casually opened the cabinet and pulled out a laser gun. She pointed it towards Kiri.


    Despite the horrors that had befallen her, there was a defiance in Kiri''s countenance, a fire that still burned within. She spat at Flavia''s face.


    Flavia struck her already bruised face with a forceful backhand.


    "You either tell me the exact route to the purgatory," Flavia wiped her face on a kerchief, "Or I kill her. Your long chain of tricks comes to an end now, Norman. You will not be walking away from this." Walking behind Kiri, she wrapped her arm around her throat tightly and pointed the gun straight at her temple.


    "And before you get any ideas, I have vials of Zythramine in my suit." She continued, "I die - this entire building blows. I have had enough of you, and your bloody games." Heusten tried to plead with her, but she paid him no attention.


    Amidst all the chaos, she did not notice that Celine, silent as always, had moved right behind her. The room was already poorly lit, so nobody noticed the pool of darkness amassing under her. Nobody saw the tendril of darkness slowly wiggling around her hand.


    Celine looked up at Norman with her deep red eyes. Norman understood what she was asking. What *it* was asking. Gnawing dread seeped into the deepest recesses of his soul like the icy tendrils of a winter''s frost. His heart pounded in his chest, once - twice - thrice, each beat resonating like the ominous tolling of a distant bell. There was only one way to solve this. Only one way forward. He pushed down the whirlwind of surging emotions within him with an iron fist, and nodded - once.


    Kiri''s head exploded into a cloud of bloody mist.


    Flavia was left dumbfounded for a second. She stared in horror at whatever was left of Kiri dropping down to the ground. And then at the gun she held in her hand. The tendrils had already dissipated. Flavia''s suit might have had linked explosives, but Kiri was completely unprotected.


    She recovered quickly though. After all, violence was nothing new to her. Her gun swiveled towards Norman. Her eyes burned with unadulterated hatred.


    Heusten moved to pull her back, but he was too late. A bright red stream poured out from her handheld. Norman instinctively shielded his face with his hand, not that it would do him any good.


    The stream never reached him. Celine leaped in its way.


    Even as the flood of the red streak charred its body, she managed to latch onto Flavia''s hand with her canines. The handheld clattered to the ground.


    At that moment, something flipped inside Norman. Something died.


    He smashed his fist straight into Flavia''s stomach. Unassisted. Unguided. Flavia was flung to the stone wall. Norman picked up the launcher.


    "Well, you are part of the Protectorate, yes? She murdered my friend right in front of you. Why don''t you do your job for once." He yelled at Heusten.


    Flavia tried to get up, but a stream of fire, scorching the stone right above her head, served to discourage the motion quite effectively.


    Leaving the astonished investigator to deal with the situation as he saw fit, Norman walked out into the city.


    Kiri was gone. Celine was gone.


    Reality sunk in. For the first time, he had killed someone. Willingly.


    The cat had been part of Norman''s life for as long as he could recall. Kiri had been the first person in the academy Norman had befriended. And now they were both gone. Because of him.


    A voice, utterly alien and yet intimately familiar, whispered into his ears - "Well done."


    He knew it was his imagination. But, was it? In the end it didn''t matter.


    He knew he wanted to blame the alien creature. But he couldn''t. He had chosen to pull that trigger. Celine had pushed herself in front of the gun to save him. It was him who had proposed they go into his cursed planet. It was his relentless pursuit of an obscure technology that had resulted in the trail of bodies behind him. And here he was, unscathed.


    It was him all along.


    Nobody else to blame. Nothing else to blame.


    Not even a day had passed, but the city somehow looked different. The trees lining the streets were still adorned with twinkling lights and glistening ornaments, their branches still heavy with snow. But it no longer felt cheery as the day before. His mind kept picturing Celine perched on every branch, or loafing in every corner.


    The monuments and sculptures on every turn, were still draped in blankets of snow, and were just as majestic and impressive. But the world felt darker. As he walked through the corners, he saw children build snowmen and sleds on hills, their laughter echoing through the still air. But their joy felt alien.


    He sat down on a bench. And called Arianna. The call didn''t go through.


    For the first time, he desperately needed to talk to someone. Someone he could trust. Someone he wouldn''t have to hide anything from. The call still didn''t go through.


    Norman felt hollow. The cozy caf¨¦s and restaurants in the distance no longer seemed to offer a warm respite from the winter chill; their steamed-up windows no longer looked inviting - the aroma of hot cocoa and fresh pastries was no longer tantalizing. The sounds of holiday music playing right across the street still seemed distant. The scent of pine and cinnamon seemed like faded remnants from another lifetime.


    He pictured Celine, nibbling at food when he first hand-fed her. He remembered how she loved to curl up on Kiri''s lap. How she had bitten Mervin when he tried to pet her the first time. The call to Arianna still didn''t go through.


    Norman suddenly froze.


    Celine. Arianna. He could not remember a single instance of them interacting with each other.


    Over the next two minutes, he tried hard to recall. What had Celine been doing the day he visited Arianna''s apartment? Why couldn''t he recall her ever standing on Arianna''s feet demanding attention, or trying to bite her fingers playfully when she wasn''t looking, or settle at some unfathomable posture on a shelf in her apartment? Why? A horrible suspicion took root in his mind.


    During his ride back to the Academy, he pulled up the institution''s map on his tablet and panned through it until he found the agricultural domes. He knew what he would find. He hoped against hope that he was wrong, but he wasn''t. There were no student complexes near the agricultural domes. There had never been.


    He looked through the student registry. There was no entry by the name of Arianna Silvas.


    He looked at the list of ongoing and past dissertations. Zenith Fidaeus had never sponsored any work on deep-space irrigation.


    Arianna didn''t exist.


    He got off the train when it reached the agricultural section. Running with burning eyes, he strode into the dome where he and Arianna had spent so much time over the last few months. The dome was there. The rows upon rows of algae culture pods were there. The hydroponic irrigation system was there.


    He looked through the visitor log.


    It was just him. Day after day, just him. Arianna was never here. She never existed. The project was entirely his own creation.


    He scrolled through his mails. And there it was - a request to reserve an unused pod space, sent to the dean of the agricultural department. Which he had sent. He had no memory of it.


    Frantic, he pulled the activity logs from his device. And there they were, late in the night, logs of him opening the mail app, then a message getting delivered, then the reply getting archived. He had been controlled while asleep.


    He unarchived the reply from the dean. She had expressed her excitement that someone as talented as Norman was interested in agricultural projects.


    Talented. The word stung him.


    He was a buffoon. The creature had fed him a rendering of his ideal companion, and he had devoured it like a fool. Never questioning. Never contesting. Never inquiring.

 Ch 31 - A gift from the dark

    In the dimly lit room, Flavia sat hunched over, her fingers trembling as they clutched the now-frayed threads of her tunic. Her eyes burned with an unspoken fury, their depths reflecting the bitter sting of humiliation. Once alone, her proud and regal bearing was now crumpled, as if the weight of her shattered dreams had crushed her.


    Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the rhythm of her silent anger. Her thoughts swirled like a tempest, a cacophony of resentment and despair.


    In a fit of rage, she got up and slammed her fist on the stone wall. And then again. And yet again. She had never felt so weak in her life.


    "You could be stronger."


    At first, she thought she was just imagining the voice. But minutes later, she heard it again.


    "You could have your revenge." No, she hadn''t imagined it. The voice was laced with pity and malice, and the words sounded alien, as if the one who spoke had recently learned the language and hadn''t quite mastered the right accents.


    Flavia knew who spoke to her. She knew what it was capable of. What it offered. It showed her what it wanted in return.


    Flavia had hungered for power all her life. For her, every rule, every regulation imposed by the empire had always been an obstacle to work around.


    The corridors of power that Flavia walked had always been a treacherous landscape, filled with traps and pitfalls that could swallow even the most powerful of players whole. Yet, she had navigated this terrain with an unwavering confidence that left her rivals awestruck and her underlings in a state of fearful reverence.


    Flavia''s insatiable hunger for power was the driving force behind her every action. She sought to expand her empire, to increase her wealth, and to secure her place in history as the greatest guildmaster the universe had ever known. To her, the end justified the means, and she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goals.


    Unlike Norman, she had no qualms about what she desired. And what she was willing to do to make it happen. Without an ounce of hesitation, she embraced the darkness.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Months passed.


    The investigation was long behind them. Nobody had been quite happy about one of the most high profile investigations of the decade to have ended inconclusively. But in the end, the Protectorate had many matters to look into, and their time was limited.


    The world moved on.


    Investigator Heusten was visiting his brother. Mortem suffered from a degenerative disease for which no cure was known. The periodic treatments to keep the illness at bay had been paid for by the Ortimus estate so far, but he knew that could not continue anymore. He no longer had any intention of associating himself with the Ortimus conglomerate. Greymus had been cunning, but he had lines that he wouldn''t cross. He couldn''t say the same about Flavia - especially after seeing what she had done with Kiri. And this last incident had brought him too close to Protectorate scrutiny. Covering up the young girl''s murder, he had crossed a line he never thought he would.


    Amidst the sprawling hospital compound, the sun cast a warm and gentle glow, its golden rays filtering through the lush canopy of trees that lined the meticulously paved walkways. The air was filled with the invigorating scent of fresh flowers blooming in the nearby gardens, their vibrant colors adding a splash of beauty to the otherwise clinical surroundings.


    As he saw the gentle Ramsen sun bathing the hospital compound in its radiant light, he was filled with sadness yet again. This esteemed institution was no longer within his price range.


    He was planning to move his brother to a less expensive institution where he could at least die with some dignity.


    He was astonished to discover that Mortem had been discharged. When asked about where he was now, the receptionist directed him towards one of the gardens, where he was apparently waiting for him along with a friend. Mortem had no friends. He had no one other than Heusten in his life.


    He rushed towards the garden, suspecting some kind of colossal mixup. The sun continued its gentle ascent, bathing the hospital compound in its radiant light, bringing warmth to the souls of those within its walls. The combination of the sun''s nurturing rays, the serene atmosphere, and the vibrant surroundings created a perfect environment to uplift the gloom and somberness. Or at least they would have, if the very next moment he didn''t see Flavia engaged in a deep gossip with Mortem on a bench.


    "He can''t be out of his bed." Heusten exclaimed and ran towards him.


    His brother was hardly alarmed though. "Oh, but I am much better now. Thanks to the new revolutionary treatment by the Ortimus Guild." He said with a smile.


    Heusten didn''t remember when was the last time he had seen Mortem smile. He had been bedridden for so many years, his voice barely a weak whisper. And yet, here he was - radiant and fresh - as if reborn.


    "What new treatment?" he looked towards Flavia.


    Mortem pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. The veins of his hand formed a blackened tapestry.


    Years ago, when Heusten had first met Flavia, her bright and beautiful smile left him captivated. She had inherited all of her mother''s splendid beauty and her father''s cunning mind. He could not have imagined that one day he would find that magnificent smile as vile as he did now. "Mr. Heusten, why don''t we revisit your relationship with the Ortimus guild? I am sure we can arrive at an arrangement that benefits all of us."

 Ch 32 - The scribes revelation

    Sultan Dakhir directed his flying vessel deep into the desolation of Hradikh L''mar, the abandoned home world of Kaiyaath.


    In the days of yore, this world had been beautiful and vibrant. But it now lay in ruins, a testament to the destructive power of the many wars that had ravaged it over the centuries of infighting. The once lush and verdant landscapes had been reduced to barren wastelands, scarred by the scorched earth and the remnants of shattered cities.


    The skies were filled with the thick, toxic smoke of innumerable fires, choking the very air with its acrid stench. The once crystal-clear oceans had long turned a sickly green, filled with the poisonous residues of untold numbers of weapons.


    The Kaiyaathians had to abandon this world two centuries ago. But it had been nothing short of a miracle that they had been able to flee and survive. Trailing behind in technological advancements and trodden down from numerous turmoils, they had given up all hope, and abandoned their faith in their god. But then, their god had opened his eyes.


    It was Dakhir''s great grandfather, Ral''Has Z''adramis who had found the ancient contraption in the pantheon where Dakhir was headed now. A survivor above all, in his perpetual quest to save his people through any means necessary, he had stumbled upon a highly sophisticated machinery from a civilization long past. Buried deep under the shrines their people had worshiped, this mechanism was ancient and its complexity was far beyond his grasp. However, after carefully tinkering with the network of interconnected machines for many days, to his own surprise he had managed to activate the ancient apparatus.


    Their people had been apprehensive. And they had good reason to be. After all, the current state of their world was an outcome of pervasive misuse of scavenged elder artifacts in war. Many Kaiyaathians had developed an irrational fear of elder machinery, and some factions now straight up equated them with devilry.


    However, Ral''Has had approached it with an open mind and spent many days exploring every facet of it. He could not fathom its inner workings, but he could infer that it was no weapon of mass destruction. But when he activated this device, what happened was beyond his own wildest imagination. The god they had worshiped for centuries woke. His shrine was not a shrine at all - but a tomb of a living survivor from an elder race.


    It was the knowledge from this elder, who called himself Nazaar, the last scribe, that enabled Kaiyaath to reach into the skies, seek refuge in other worlds, establish contact with other civilizations through the Farthaark cosmic network and eventually discover the well of wyrmblood that had enabled the royal family to assert control over their people bring about a semblance of stability.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The mechanism that kept the scribe alive was failing, though. And so was the planet where the shrine lay. They could not move the humongous contraption, so the scribe had stayed behind, choosing to spend the last of his life in the blissful embrace of slumber.


    His last explicit instruction to Ral''Has had been that the only situation when he be woken was when an alert was broadcasted over Farthaark - "Al-Waharas Wthaark" - the wyrm walks again.


    Ral''Has had waited for this message all his life. But it was never heard. He had passed on the message to his son, who eventually rose to be the next Sultan. Nobody outside the royal family knew the significance of this phrase.


    As Dakhir looked upon this desolation, he felt a deep sense of sadness and regret. He knew though that it was too late for this planet, and he had a different goal tonight.


    Meandering through the huge stalagmites in the ancient cavern, he eventually arrived at the scribe''s resting place. His servant immediately got started with reactivating the ancient apparatus according to the instructions left behind by his ancestor, and as he realigned the gears, a deep thrum began to emanate from the ground.


    The process was slow and it took hours as the golden liquid streamed through the numerous connecting pipes that led up to the seat of the ancient elder. The sultan kept his trepidation at bay - he had never seen the scribe awake. No living Kaiyaathian had. He wasn''t even sure if the scribe still lived.


    He did awake though. At long last he opened his golden eyes. "A new Sultan..." he muttered.


    For the first time in many many years, the Sultan bent his knees in respect. "Yes, revered scribe, you were last woken by my father. We seek your attention once again because a message was delivered. Al-Waharas Wthaark. On the day of the officiation of the crown prince."


    "Crown prince. Your son?" The scribe''s words were pained. Barely above a whisper - it was as if every word was a torture for him.


    The sultan nodded.


    "He is irrelevant." the scribe paused. "The festering blood in the ancient pool will not yield a wyrm-blessed" He said ultimately.


    That shattered the last vestiges of hope the Sultan had held onto. "So this message was about someone else?"


    "Yes," the scribe confirmed, "You must find them. If someone has managed to uncover the last wyrm-field, the future of your empire depends on them." The last words that came out of his mouth were barely audible. Find them before the wyrm manipulates them into releasing them from their confinement. " The dim light in the scribe''s eyes faded, and the Sultan knew his time was up.


    It was not well known to the common public, but the pool of wyrm blood from which the royal family used during the ritual of Harlae-utafa had been disintegrating for a very long time. And the throne of Kaiyaath was built upon the foundation of blood sorcery, in which wyrmblood played a critical role.


    They had been told about the wyrm-field, the last purgatory that Irathor had not yet managed to seal away. But over the hundreds of years, they had never been able to locate it. The scribe''s instruction had been precise, but the wormhole could not be located. It was as if it had been erased from existence.


    But now, it looked like someone had managed to accomplish what both Ral''Has and Dakhir had failed to. And that person held the key to Kaiyaath''s future. Because they could unlock the true potential of essence-harvesting.

 Ch 33 - New territories

    Rothfurd''s office was a statement of minimalism. The room was almost monochromatic, with all the decor chosen from a palette of cool grays and whites.


    Everything within seemed to exist only for a purpose, with no extra embellishments or clutter to distract from the work at hand. The atmosphere was one of focus, efficiency, and calm, making it the perfect sanctuary for those seeking to escape the hustle and bustle of the outside world.


    "So, Mr Zanus, what is the outcome of your evaluation?" Rothfurd looked away from the long stack of reports in front of him, and turned to face the middle-aged gray haired man who perpetually sported a frown.


    "We have created production-ready artifacts from Norman''s designs and extensively stress-tested them. We could not find a single defect. All our testers have given the go-ahead for mass production." Zanus spoke in a neutral voice, but an undertone of stress was evident.


    "Interesting. Very interesting." Rothfurd grimaced. "Unfortunately, we will not be mass-producing this product."


    Zanus was surprised at that, "But sir, why not. The solution is right here in front of us. Is there some licensing issue?"


    "No," The last few days had been a sequence of some rather bizarre events for Rothfurd, "I received a mail from Mr. Norman this morning. Apparently, this design was leaked to Helicon rebel groups without his knowledge."


    "Oh." This was the last thing Zanus had expected to hear, "So now if we try to sell it, it may look like we have been collaborating with these rebels."


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "But perhaps we can ask him to revise his designs and iterate on a better model." Zanus massaged his temples.


    "Perhaps. However, Mr. Norman does not appear interested in pursuing this as part of his primary dissertation. He has instead proposed a more radical project for us to sponsor."


    "Oh, what is this project?" Zanus secretly hoped it was not something that would put his position at risk again.


    "He wants us to get into Zythramine production."


    "But that is crazy." Zanus was astounded, "It is fiendishly difficult to manufacture, and all the current mechanisms of synthesis are patented and protected. It will take many years to get someone to develop production-capable pipelines."


    Manufacturing Zythramine made perfect sense from a business perspective for Zenith Fidaeus. And they had actually attempted to get into it. Unfortunately, right after their announcement, the patent holder who had licensed the product to them got sued by another for malpractice, and their investors had set their foot down until the issue was resolved. Though it was open knowledge that the bogus litigation had been funded by Ortimus guild, it was all coordinated behind the scenes. Thanks to the deep pockets of the Ortimus conglomerate the legal resolution dragged on for years and the project didn''t go anywhere.


    "Then perhaps you would want to evaluate this sample of Zythramine that he has sent across." Rothfurd pushed forward a small vial towards Zanus. A small sample of viscous, pale blue liquid glimmered within.


    Zanus felt the ground shifting under him, "This is something he has synthesized himself? Already?"


    "Yes. In his own room. Apparently using materials that he was able to procure from academy supplies without any license." Rothfurd steepled his fingers.


    "That is impossible." If this actually was true, Zenith Fidaeus could well be on track to disrupt the entire industry.


    "Mr. Zanus, as we increase our dealings with Mr. Norman, you might want to refrain from using that word going forward." Rothfurd smiled.


    "So you will approve this sponsorship?" Zanus already knew what the answer was going to be.


    "I already have. And while I have yet to receive a final confirmation from Mr. Norman, minutes after I sent the updated contract proposal, I received a notification..." Rothfurd gestured to his tablet, and a letter adorned by the unmistakable seal of the Imperial Magisterium was projected before them.


    Zanus felt like he was struck by lightning, "The God King has summoned us!"

 Ch 34 - Helicon beckons

    Norman sat in front of a collection of storage slabs - the ones that they had managed to safely extract from the Yaskh ziggurat.


    The Senator''s study had a mechanism to read from these slabs. Norman hadn''t been able to bring the device with him, but he did manage to sneak out a copy of the instruction manual and design document for the device that had been present in the library.


    Using them, over the last two days, he had been trying to reconstruct the device. However, it had proven to be a daunting task. Besides the fact that Norman''s familiarity with hardware engineering was very limited, he was having a very hard time focusing. The scene of Flavia''s laser obliterating Kiri''s head kept replaying in his mind.


    He would get up in the morning, and his half-asleep, addled mind would continue to wonder for several minutes why Celine wasn''t yet making a ruckus. Then he would wake up and remember. She would never need to be fed again.


    He would take a shower, and instinctively open the door gently, taking care to ensure that he didn''t slam the door against the cat - who, for some reason, loved to loaf on the floor mat right outside the washroom, notwithstanding the numerous cat beds that Norman had tried to get her used to. And then his mind would remind him - he was never going to see her loafing again.


    Each reminder felt like a stab driven deep into his chest, shredding him bit by bit each time.


    He had surrendered before the Nightwyrms. Why hadn''t he done the same when Flavia pointed her gun at Kiri? He didn''t have the answer. He would do it if he could relive that moment again. But the laws of physics didn''t work that way.


    He was pulled up from his self-loathing by a doorbell ding.


    "Hey Norman, you alright?" The first thing Garvin noticed was the pale expression on Norman''s face.


    "Yes, just haven''t been sleeping too well." He couldn''t even recall how many times he had reused that excuse in his life.


    Garvin had agreed to help him with decoding the Yaskh storage plates. Norman hoped that the brilliant computer scientist would be able to crack open the information in a lot less time - this was his specialty, after all.


    He was happy to let him have all the credit for decoding Yaskh storage devices - no solution had yet been published publicly. The work that the Senator had commissioned had likely been done through private channels with strict confidentiality clauses. Of course, they would mention nothing about the manual they had recovered when publishing it.


    As he walked Garvin through the details of his explorations so far, Garvin pulled out an array of probes and auxiliary instruments. The moment Norman saw the half-open suitcase, the first thing his mind pictured was Celine settled inside it. His throat tightened, and his words faltered. Every glance at some half-empty box in the room, some bit of empty space on the shelves in his apartment, some vacant corner in the room felt like a slap on his face. For the choices he had made.


    "You alright, man?"


    Garvin knew nothing about Kiri. Or Celine. Or anything he had done. Norman did need someone to talk to, but Garvin was hardly the right person.


    "Yes, please forgive me. Got distracted." That was all he said, and he continued with the elaboration.


    After Garvin had enough information to work with, he walked out to his balcony and took some deep breaths to calm himself. Trying to push down the memories of the time he had spent here with Arianna, gazing at the breathtaking view of the asteroid belt from so up close.


    Norman didn''t know how long he was just gazing into the floating bits of rocks in space when Garvin called him back. "Hey, your secondary backup device is getting full. Your tablet is saying it may have to pause syncing soon."Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "What? I don''t have a secondary..." Norman paused. Realization dawning, he said, "Garvin, can we find out where this storage device is?"


    "What, you lost your backup device?" Garvin was confused.


    "No, I don''t think it is my device." Kiri had not just copied over the research on his tablet. Why settle for a one-time sync when you could keep milking the cow? She had configured her own machine as a backup device so that whatever Norman did would eventually get synced to her storage.


    "Holy..." Garvin realized the implication, "We need to notify the Academy at once..."


    "Hold on... wait. If what I am thinking is right, we may have a much bigger opportunity here."


    Garvin was not too excited about being detracted from the storage investigation he had come over for, but after some convincing, he did agree to set that aside for a bit. Sure enough, after some poking and prodding, the backup device was found to be in the same apartment complex. Kiri lived two apartments down.


    "Can we somehow access the paired device?" Norman asked.


    "That would violate so many rules..." Garvin''s shocked expression faltered when he looked at Norman''s face.


    "What do you think about the prospect of helping the Protectorate track down the most thorny group of rebel insurgents?" Norman asked.


    "She was linked to Helicon? How do you know this?" Garvin''s cheeks were flushed with astonishment.


    "I have had my doubts for a while. But before we talk to the Protectorate, we need concrete proof."


    "Fair enough," Garvin was visibly uncomfortable with the prospect of hacking into another student''s device, but at the same time, the idea of delivering something as huge as the location and plans of an entire rebel group excited him. Like many other Academy students, getting into the Protectorate had been his life-long dream.


    They devised a virus, disguised as an innocuous document, that got synced to the target device as part of the continuous backup. The moment the target device tried to read its metadata to catalog it, the programming in the virus got activated, and it altered the access keys on the system, enabling Garvin and Norman direct shell access to the device.


    Over the next few hours, Garvin explored the assortment of numerous esoteric utilities installed on the device, trying to find something that could count as evidence.


    But it turned out to be a much more cumbersome affair than they had anticipated. Kiri was borderline paranoid. Almost all her own data was passphrase-protected.


    After many attempts, they stumbled upon an encrypted relay application. Launching the relay, they were connected to a small pool of users on a live chat interface. Garvin suspected that this group acted as an intermediary who would, through a chain of other intermediaries, relay relevant messages to the cosmic Farthaark network.


    Farthaark was one of the few communication channels that the Protectorate had yet not been able to tap into. The mechanism was ancient and operated at an immense scale, with a huge number of relays all over the galaxy - each one independently verifying the signature of messages flowing through them.


    What the Protectorate had instead done was seal off most of the Farthaark gateways within the empire. But some still remained active in the far outskirts, where the Protectorate''s presence was not yet as strong. And it seemed that people had developed alternative solutions to broadcast messages to Farthaark through intermediaries without needing to have direct access to a gateway.


    Norman suddenly noticed something on the corner of the screen, "What is that red indicator?" There was a small timer in red, that blinked every second as the count decremented.


    It took Garvin another hour to decipher the source of that countdown. I think this system is configured to wipe itself along with all its private keys unless the owner enters a verification passphrase. Damn, Kiri was too smart for her own good.


    "What is our best course of action?" Norman was frustrated now.


    "We can suspend the device. The counter will get suspended too," Garvin unhelpfully offered. There were only two minutes left. No reasonably strong passphrase could be brute-forced within that duration.


    "But then we lose access to the chat room as well."


    "Unfortunately, yes."


    Rattling his mind, Norman had an idea: "How about inviting someone else to the room? While logged in as Kiri, can you invite me in?"


    After tinkering with the highly unintuitive interface for the next couple of minutes, Garvin concluded that this was indeed doable. Norman had already installed the relay software on his device. The software was not publicly available, but they were able to recover the installer for the latest iteration from Kiri''s trash.


    "Great, now all we need to do is create a new identity. I guess you don''t want to use your real name?" Garvin smirked.


    "Of course not. Can you see if Nazaar is available?"


    "A rather odd choice. Why do I get the feeling I have heard this name before?" Garvin asked as he sent out the invitation to Norman''s device.


    Of course, to Norman, the name had been intimately familiar for a long time. "He was the last known Yaskh scribe. A vast majority of Yaskh compendiums we have recovered were authored by him."


    The scribe had never raised a weapon to harm anyone in his entire life. But little did Norman know at that point that the name he had chosen on a whim on that random evening would eventually pave the way for millions to associate that name with the endless pain, suffering and destruction that his ambition would leave behind in its wake.

 Ch 35 - The God Kings Attention

    Rothfurd calmed his nerves as the assisted navigation system routed his bubble ship towards the GKC - The God King''s complex.


    The bubble ship embodied a lot of the Irvanian ideals. All complexity abstracted to the point of invisibility, the bubble ship had no controls, no steering mechanism, no status dashboards that old ships sported. True to its name, it resembled a soap bubble speeding through space, a small quantity of malleable nanomaterial taking shape of whatever furniture the passenger needed at the moment.


    The celestial complex loomed before Rothfurd. More than anything else, it looked like a caged star. Over the centuries, the energy needs of Imperator Irathor''s massive computation machinery had grown so huge that the only way to keep its hunger sated was to latch on to a star directly.


    Where the Illustrious Torus was a ring of construction around a planet, the God King''s complex was a triple-layered spherical contraption that encased a star completely. Each layer was composed of a hexagonal grid of interlocked machinery. From the innermost layers, probes extended deep inwards towards the star to maximally harness its energy.


    The GKC was consisted only of machinery - a vast network of interconnected systems that had evolved over the centuries. Nobody lived here, except Irathor himself. But whether Irathor was a human anymore was a contentious topic. Over many years, the Imperator Supreme had integrated himself with so many augmentations and discarded so much of his human shell, there was not a distinction anymore where his body ended and this vast complex began. It was a lonely existence. But such was the cost of power that came with the mantle of the God King.


    As Rothfurd''s ship requested permission to dock on the outermost layer of GKC, probes extended out and hooked into the ship. His soul signature was analyzed and after confirmation, an alert popped up on the ship''s screen seeking access to the data banks in the ship. Rothfurd waved off the alert - it was a formality, of course. The God King could access whatever data he wanted through the various organizations he controlled. The permission request was just a courtesy. But even as he mentally approved the permission, he chucked at the acronym in the title of the notification box - "Access request by G.O.D. K.In.G."


    The God King had not always been the revered mantle as it was today. It had started off as a computer science project - an unprecedented powerful centralized system to establish galactic stability and bring an end to the conflicts between various departments and divisions of galactic governance that had been spiraling out of control as the Irvanian empire had rapidly expanded. This computational grid, built at a scale that was unprecedented in all the empire, was led by Irathor himself, who had code-named it G.O.D. K.In.G. - Galactic Operation Dispatch and Knowledge Incorporation Grid. The name was supposed to be temporary, until a better one could be found. Centuries later, it was evident that the name was anything but.


    The probe from GKC analyzed all the data that Rothfurd had brought along with him. The God King''s top most priority was to ensure stability in the empire. And Zenith Fidaeus''s plan to position itself as a new player in Zythramine production was a potential threat to that stability. Rothfurd knew that this plan was bold, but the summon by the God King had truly driven home just how bold it was. If this was approved, this could absolutely upend the power balance in Irvanian industry.


    Genocides had been committed for much less. He wouldn''t blame the God King, if he decided to shut down this project in the name of galactic security. He would be disheartened - yes, but he wouldn''t complain. Not that there was anyone to complain to. The God King was the ultimate authority. His word was law.


    The God King analyzed an unfathomable scale of data every second, computing and predicting an enormous array of possibilities that may or may not happen over the next hundreds of years. Its complete attention was never targeted to a single topic, no matter how important. A single processing core, out of septillions, analyzed all of Rothfurd''s plans, their research, their association with Illustrious Academy, the collaboration with Norman, his Zythramine production proposal - in less than a second.


    A series of alerts popped up on Rothfurd''s screen:


    - Defensive Aegis contract project: APPROVED


    - Concerns about association with Helicon insurgency: VOIDED


    - Merger proposal by Ortimus conglomerate: VOIDED


    - Complaint #9234987 - Imperial penalty; Networking equipment certification: VOIDED


    - Complaint #9303984 - Imperial penalty; Mesh networking certification: VOIDED


    - Complaint #97234923 - Imperial penalty; Deep space intermesh certification: VOIDED


    - ....


    Rothfurd stared at the stream of notifications, gaping. The merger proposal he had been battling for months with the board of stakeholders to resist had been voided by the God King in a fraction of a second. As was every single proposed penalty by the Ortimus conglomerate. It looked like they had finally done something that was dangerous enough to warrant Imperial attention.


    The stream eventually came to an end:


    - Further collaboration with Ortimus Conglomerate: PROHIBITEDThis novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    - Zythramine production proposal #92398742: APPROVED (Subject to Protectorate supervision)


    A tear ran down Rothfurd''s cheeks.


    The project was not being shut down. Of course, the Protectorate was going to supervise something of this magnitude. But it was approved. Zenith Fidaeus had a future - it would truly be an institution that outlived its founders.


    The GKC output was not yet complete, though. After a second of pause, a new message appeared:


    - Funding proposal #7234234: 5,309,752 Sol


    Rothfurd had to triple check the figure to be sure. More than five million sol. That was a fortune that most guilds could only dream of. Only a handful of guilds in all of Irvanian history had received that a funding of that scale from the Imperial governance in all of history.


    As the probe disconnected, and Rothfurd''s ship was routed out of the complex, he sat dazed, contemplating what all that money could potentially accomplish.


    Unknown to Rothfurd, the routine continued to run in a background job, processing every connection to this project in minute detail. And one of the key aspects being analyzed was the life of a fourth year student, who had so far stayed completely under the radar of Imperial supervision.


    Every data collected from every government agency was eventually funneled to the God King''s intelligence system where it was indexed, analyzed and cross-correlated for potential anomalies.


    The system first flagged Norman''s numerous projects. That would have not been a reason in itself for threat level escalation, except for his interest in Yaskh - a race that had once been a sworn enemy of Irvanian empire.


    As the anomaly detection system continued to rifle through every aspect of Norman''s life, anomalies continued to stack. Him being involved in a violent accident in Yokidon, him attempting a suicide, him taking down assailants without prior combat experience, him talking to unseen imaginary audiences on several occasions...


    Finally, the system flagged his cultivation pods - an algal species that had once been known to have used by Yaskh, but had since been lost to time.


    Norman should not have been cultivate that algal species. Not unless he had direct access to a Yaskh settlement that the empire did not have registered. Once the system identified a definitive proof that this species could not be cross-correlated with any other source within the GKC data records, Norman''s thread assessment level escalated.


    The system added Norman to the Magisterium''s supervision list, first with a "Casual Supervision Suggested" flag, which then escalated to "Close Supervision Recommended" flag.


    Secondary analysis routines were spawned with elevated privileges that now had access to Norman''s private records, his search history, his holcom records and his location history from every Academy issued device and vehicle.


    Iterating through his search history, the system found an array of unexpected search queries:


    "Are Saan sentient?"


    ...


    "Is the Saan mycelia a hive mind?"


    ...


    "How to communicate with Saan?"


    The Saan had played an instrumental role in the evolution of human civilization. Their vast galactic mycelial network still served as the foundation for most Irvanian technologies. Except the GKC. The GKC was established to demonstrate to the Saan that the human civilization was capable of standing on its own.


    Even before the supervision list could be synced to the Magisterium, it was revoked by the privileged secondary routine. Norman''s search on Nightwyrms had been found.


    GKC''s alternative to the Saan hive mind system, advocated by Irathor, was sophisticated centralized governance over independent individuals. Irathor''s lifelong mission was to prove and demonstrate that this was a better solution. That individualism could be preserved.


    After all, a system like GKC was not prone to the kind of split-brain corruptions that had resulted in abominations like the Nightwyrms. The civilization may have forgotten about Nightwyrms, thanks to the insane amount of resources that both the Magisterium and Protectorate had spent over the centuries to scrub their references.


    But the God King remembered it all. He remembered how a single seed of corruption in the Saan hive mind had grown into an abomination, so powerful, that even ascended races had been threatened.


    Suppressing and abolishing the Nightwyrms had been the sole reason why Irathor''s complex had been allowed to continue to exist in the zeroth realm, despite having grown powerful beyond any and all intelligent races in the entire universe. And now, someone was trying to dig up the empire''s dirty past. Norman''s investigation may be at a nascent stage now, but if left unchecked, it could very well threaten God King''s continued dominance.


    His name was immediately removed from the Magisterium''s supervision list. It was instead added to Protectorate''s highest threat list. With an "Extreme Supervision Mandated" flag. The only reason why the addition was not accompanied by a Detain-Or-Terminate order was because there was no hard evidence of Norman breaking any law.


    ---


    Councilor Leptimus received a notification the next day through his contacts in the Protectorate. Norman''s threat ranking had been elevated from 0 to 193. Rank 192 had also been a recent escalation - Flavia Ortimus.


    Leptimus sat confused, looking at the notification. Threat rankings higher than 200 were reserved for individuals or organizations deemed as threats to the stability of the empire. Typically, insurgents, terrorists or people suspected of conspiracy. If there was even a shred of evidence of any wrongdoing, the Protectorate could detain and confine a ranked individual indefinitely.


    Leptimus tapped through and called his erstwhile student in the Protectorate. Melinda had been expecting the call - news travels fast.


    Dispensing with formalities, Leptimus urged her, "I think there has been a mistake. How did Norman get allocated a sub-two-hundred threat ranking? I am suspecting some kind of mix up."


    Frowning, Melinda tapped through the records, and as she navigated through the recent alterations, her frown only deepened. "Councilor, I don''t think there is a mix up."


    "Really? Can you please help me understand what caused the Protectorate to assign this threat ranking?"


    "I can''t." Melinda''s response was curt and stress was evident in her voice.


    Leptimus was frustrated now, "Melinda, we have collaborated for so many years. You owe me this much. Norman is a prodigy - this is something that can destroy his career."


    "Leptimus, I don''t mean that I don''t want to, or that I am restricted to. I literally can''t. Because it wasn''t us who assigned that threat ranking. We received a decree straight from the God King."


    Leptimus was astonished. "What?"


    "Yes. Both of the recent changes in the threat rankings - for Norman and Flavia, came from the God King. They are somehow connected."


    With trembling hands, the retired war hero disconnected the call. The God King would not make mistakes.


    He needed to head over to the Illustrious Torus in person. He needed to find out what had actually happened.

 Ch 36 - A negotiation behind bars

    The guard placed his palm against the dark glass panel, cautioning the others to stand at a distance. The corridor behind him was illuminated by a network of glowing blue filaments embedded in the ceiling. The tapered reinforced wall behind them distorted their reflections into warped grotesque shapes. The panel responded with a soft thrum, and the hidden mechanism that governed the security of Yae Tal''hefier - the detention center for the most dangerous prisoners of the Kaiyaathian empire, took but a moment to validate his identity. Slowly, the outer gate unsealed itself with a soft whir. Glowing red stripes on the floor accompanied by a low reverberation, signalled them to proceed forward. The group of four entered the narrow gap between the gates.


    Reina wondered what would have happened if the person attempting to access was someone unauthorized. Likely something horrendous - she chose not to dwell on that for long. When it came to security, Kaiyaathian militia generally preferred to err on the side of absolute destruction.


    The High priest whom they accompanied was clad in an ensemble of dark robes. His garments were made of a shimmering fabric, the color of obsidian, that seemed to swallow up the light around him and looked almost liquid. A thick, fur-lined mantle draped over his shoulders, concealing his face. Intricate gold runes, embroidered along the edges of his robes, glinted ominously in the crimson light that flooded the room once the outer gate closed back. Another of his acolytes accompanied him on the other side, and patiently, they waited for the inspection to complete. An array of probes scanned them silently. The priest glanced towards Reina once - this was their final chance to back out. She only nodded once. The decision had been made.


    Once the system was satisfied with the scan, the opaque black inner metal door began to slide open. The crimson hue dissipated, and the filaments switched to a yellowish color. The cramped room beyond was dimly illuminated, but they could see a figure lying on the bed, unmoving.


    "Already asleep, Joriah? It''s barely evening." The old guard chuckled at his own joke. In the depths of the dormant volcano of Tafalt Y''deth time of the day hardly had any meaning. The light of the sun never reached these depths, and the prisoners were completely isolated from any contact with civilization. The famed security measures had been refined by the Kaiyaathian artificers to the point of perfection over centuries. The only living beings the inmates at the deeper levels of the prison ever saw were the inquisitors, and their company was worse than no company at all. Even if the alternative was the madness of eternal solitude.


    The brawny prisoner on the bed didn''t respond, and stayed utterly unmoving. But as the room brightened, his eyes were revealed to be open. Every exposed part of his muscular frame was marred by deep scar marks, and his face was disfigured to the point that he barely looked human. There was not a trace of emotion on his face.


    "You," the guard frowned, "Get up."


    Joriah stayed as he was. Only his lips moved. "What do you want?" He asked in an annoyed, drawling voice.


    "You are in the presence of his eminence, Madhab Al''Pasha, Lord Supreme Al''Fahyat - first of his name, representor of..."


    "I know very well who he is..." Joriah''s tone did not change in the slightest, "What do you want?"


    "Enough of this insolence." The guard activated his electric mace and rammed it into his thigh, "You will get up!"


    Joriah''s body spasmed as the bolts of electricity coursed through his body. He did not scream. He did not utter a single word. The guard gaped at him incredulously. Usually, the electric mace had the inmates begging for mercy within minutes. Once the charge ran its course, Joriah just sighed. Of course, the guard had no idea of the extent of torture he had endured in the hands of the inquisitors, in Kaiyaath and elsewhere. Joriah''s love of travel and coin had taken him far and wide, and the kind of life he had led had earned him more enemies than friends.


    The guard prepared to plunge the mace yet again, but the high priest gestured him to pause. Removing his veil, the bearded old man turned to face the prisoner. "Please, let''s talk like civilized men. We have a proposition for you."


    Joriah shifted to his side, "Civilized men, are we now?" A hint of a smirk appeared on his face.


    "I know the inquisitors have not been kind to you. But in Kaiyaath, above all, we respect strength. And the strength you have demonstrated is impressive indeed." The priest''s voice was calm and assuring, and he chose his words carefully.


    Joriah shifted up, putting his weight on his elbow. "Impressive? Interesting. So very interesting. How much money are we talking?"


    "What money?" The priest frowned.


    "For the job you are going to hire me for." Joriah chuckled. The expression further transformed his face into something out of a nightmare.


    "How did you..."


    "Come on, priest. You torture me for months, try to extract secrets of my past employers. Then you leave me in this hellhole for a year. And now, out of the blue, you are here complimenting my strength. You have a problem, which only I can solve. Do you not?"


    "We do have a problem for which your unique skills are quite well suited." The priest conceded.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "There it is! So, how much money we talking?"


    "If you are able to get this done, a full pardon is on the table. All records of your past crimes, erased."


    "Beautiful." Excitement glimmered in Joriah''s eyes, "Who needs to be killed?"


    The priest shook his head. "Someone needs to be found. Or rather, something - that has not been seen in the known universe in a long time."


    "Sounds exciting. Still waiting for the part where you mention money."


    "You are being offered a chance to see the sun again. Do you not want that? Nobody has ever gotten out of Yae Tal''hefier in all its history. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."


    "I think, priest, me quite happy here." Joriah spat on the floor and continued in heavily accented broken Kaiyaathian, "Have fresh water, and food absolutely delicious... You should talk to some of the guards. They are the most... eh, what is the word... amicable... folks ever."


    "I don''t think you are taking this matter very seriously." The priest frowned, increasingly certain that this was a mistake.


    Joriah lied back down. "Oh, I do believe the matter quite serious. For you. For it to be matter of seriousness for me, I need see some money. Otherwise, you have my thanks for magnificent hospitality. Now, if you done, I am needed back to my nap."


    "How much money do you have in mind?" Reina spoke up for the first time. She had not planned to participate in this discussion at all, but things were not going in a direction she wanted. She had expected the prisoner to be enthusiastic about the prospect of freedom.


    The prisoner''s eyes bore into her. From her frame, she looked young, but her words cut through the air with the force of a grown woman''s command.


    "Depends, on how powerful this - thing - you are seeking is. I assume they do not want be found, yes? Something powerful. With the means to evade Kaiyaathian elite, Fangshahat? Perhaps, even one of your own - who has fallen out of favor of the Sultanate?"


    The priest looked towards her again, unsure how much to reveal. Reina explained, "They are a race, long forgotten. They aren''t trying to evade us - most likely they don''t even know of us. And we mean them no harm. We just need to find them before the Irvanian Protectorate does."


    "Ah, the Protectorate. So I need to go deep into Irvanian habitation, to look for them, yes?"


    "Yes, we do not know where they are precisely. But there have been reports of them being sighted near Haveskon."


    "Have-es-kon." Joriah finally sat up, enunciating the name slowly, one syllable at a time. That location was etched deep into his mind. "The home world of Senator Greymus. This keeps getting and better. Fifty million sol."


    "That is outrageous." The priest scoffed disdainfully.


    "Do you know how much the bounty on my head is, in Irvania? And Greymus and I have bitter history."


    "Greymus is dead." Reina added.


    That transformed the expression on Joriah''s face again. "Really? How did he die?"


    "We have received some vague reports. We do not know the specifics for sure."


    Joriah looked between the two, suspicion and distrust etched on his face. He inferred what was left unsaid, "Wait a minute... the creature you are seeking had some involvement with this, didn''t it?"


    "There have been rumors of the creature being seen in his house." The priest conceded again.


    Joriah was increasingly certain now that there was a lot more being left unsaid. "Ninety million sol."


    "The best we can do is ten million." Reina offered back, with a hint of authority that belied her years.


    "You can leave." Joriah turned away.


    Irritation flared across the Priest''s face. "Joriah, you are not exactly in the best bargaining position. This is the last offer we are willing to give you."


    "And this is the last word I will speak to you. Tell whoever in the royal family is holding your leash, to come back to me with a better offer. It is not the Sultan, is it? You would not be coming to me if this was authorized by the Sultan. You are coming to me because it needs to be done discreetly, covertly. Without the Sultan knowing about it."


    "You are smart, I''ll give you that." Reina pulled her veil back, revealing the rings bearing the mark of royal family that adorned her ears. "However, ninety million sol is not an amount we can offer you. What do you say to a Kaiyaathian imperial seal that grants you free passage through all Kaiyaathian vassals? As long as you do not commit any further violent crimes in our worlds, of course. That, and twenty million sol. Half payable now, and half payable upon completion of the assignment." Her tone was confident and assertive, betraying no trace of uncertainty or timidity. Each word was chosen with care and conviction, making it impossible not to listen intently and take notice.


    "I have a better idea. Twenty million now, twenty million more upon completion. And you announce that I have escaped."


    "What?" The Madhab was outraged, "That is ludicrous. Nobody has ever escaped Yae Tal¡¯hefier."


    "Well, that changes now." Joriah slammed his palm on the bed animatedly, "And that no cost you anything, does it? Just one announcement, that is all it will take."


    "It costs us our reputation. That we have built over hundreds of years." Reina shot back.


    "Oh please." Joriah continued, visibly struggling to piece together Kaiyaathian words, "The few real criminals you do manage to capture...broken by your inquisitors until they reduced to¡­ vegetables." He waved his hands in impatience. "This prison of yours...practically a graveyard - the inmates just don''t know that they dead yet. And if I have to deal with alien race that can kill an Irvanian senator in own home, I need friends. Powerful friends."


    "Right now... all cosmos knows Joriah rotting in an im-preg-nable Kaiyaathian prison. Possibly dead. I show up out of nowhere¡­they think I some imposter. I been out of market, for what¡­forty years now. They challenge me, we fight, they die - and I not left with nobody to help me. Better if gets known that I escaped, yes? Then they be expecting me. Powerful people more willing to help other powerful people - people powerful enough to walk out a prison that nobody able to escape before. Street credit its own form of currency, yes?"


    "You do realize that something like this will have repercussions, yes?" Reina answered, her resonant voice now grave, "Not even I can give you a free pass out of this."


    "Not even I... who you exactly? Someone in the Imperial family¡­ Not the queen, younger... a daughter... Shehzadi Reina''Dras...yes?


    "Keep your voice down, will you?" The guard cautioned him.


    "Sure. Your secret safe with me. When it comes to Yae Tal¡¯hefier walls no have ear, right guard?" Joriah chuckled. The old guard only grimaced.


    "We can do this." Reina relinquished, "But then the Sultan will dispatch the Fangshahat after you. The imperial cohort will hunt you relentlessly. You will spend your life looking over your shoulders."


    "Wouldn''t have it any other way." Joriah''s wicked grin didn''t change in the slightest. His lips were pulled back revealing a mosaic of jagged, blackened teeth that seemed to twist and writhe in the dim light. "Now, do we have a deal?"


    "We do." The Shehzadi hoped that this wasn''t something she would come to regret.

 Ch 37 - Seeds of doubts

    "All looks good, Mr. Norman?"


    Norman gently put down his backpack in a corner and surveyed his new accommodations. "Yes, it''s quite alright, Mrs..." The elderly staff member who accompanied him to his new apartment had introduced herself ten minutes ago, but Norman had already forgotten her name.


    "Wilma." She politely offered. "Any particular reason you requested new accommodations?" She looked stern in her appearance, but her voice was soft and comforting.


    Norman could understand why she was curious. After all, all the housing around the Illustrious torus followed similar templates. And the same amenities were available, no matter where one lived. This one had the same pristine white walls, and only differed slightly in the layout.


    "No, it''s just that one of my friends lives in this complex." Norman lied, "Since we collaborate frequently, I felt it would be convenient for us to stay close by."


    "I see. Is it Mr. Reginald? He lives down the block." Wilma''s curiosity had no end.


    "Yes," Norman lied. He had no idea who this Reginald was, but he wanted the conversation to be over quickly.


    The real reason Norman wanted to shift was because even after a month since her passing, he kept imagining Celine at various locations in the house. He didn''t know if a change in scenery would help, but it was worth trying.


    "I see. I have thoroughly enjoyed your Yokidon matches. No wonder you two are close."


    *So, someone connected with Yokidon then.* Norman pushed down the pang of disappointment and offered her what he hoped was a reasonably sincere smile. Without the Wyrms'' assistance, he would never be able to play the game with as much proficiency, and he simply did not have the time to practice. He had been evading calls from his team using the ongoing engagement with Zenith Fidaeus as an excuse.


    "Alright then, the last thing I wanted to remind you was that you will have to shift all your belongings within the next three days and notify the staff. After that, we will reassign your previous apartment to someone else."


    "You can do it right away." Norman said offhandedly. "I have all my belongings right here." He pointed towards his large backpack.


    "That is all you have?" Wilma looked back at the bulging bag suspiciously.


    Norman just nodded. He had disposed off the last of Celine''s scratchpads the week before. It was surprising how such a tiny creature could contribute to eighty percent of his belongings.


    "Alright then, I''ll notify the coordinator," she politely concluded, before heading out, "You have a pleasant day, Mr. Norman."


    "You too, Wendy. Thanks for taking care of this so promptly."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Norman did not notice the subtle shift in her expression, but Wilma didn''t press the matter further. After all she had spent her career in the Illustrious torus. In a profession like hers, you learned to deal with the eccentricities of the numerous residents - most of them perpetually lost in their own worlds.


    After she had left, Norman slumped down on the sofa and activated the department issued holcast. Over the last few weeks, he had kept a close eye on the news broadcasts. With Flavia at the helm of Ortimus, he had to be cautious. He didn''t know what she was planning, but he was sure she wasn''t going to leave him in peace. Rothfurd had described her as a viper, and the analogy had stuck with him ever since.


    The immersive interactive projection materialized as a three-dimensional reel of circulations aggregated from across the empire, filling out the room. Norman navigated the feed using gestures, scrolling through the kaleidoscope of multimedia content that shimmered in thin air.


    He also wasn''t sure if the Nightwyrm fragment he had expelled had found another host by now. Norman had been keeping a close eye on news of any suspicious activity around the empire, and especially Haveskon. But so far, there had been nothing out of ordinary that he could attribute to the wyrm.


    After quickly flicking through episodes on political developments and a few recent innovations around deep space travel, a feed item on the appointment of a new batch of Grandmasters caught his attention. That had been Norman''s dream - the dream that brought him to the Illustrious academy. The Grandmasters were at the topmost tier of the Irvanian academic hierarchy. The specialists who led the direction of all research and development in their respective fields. He had imagined himself being awarded the designation by the God King - the ultimate recognition and validation of his contributions towards the Protectorate. Over the last few months, though, he had increasingly felt that dream slipping away from his fingers.


    But now, as he saw the God King''s avatar congratulate the newest Grandmasters, almost all of them in their sixties, some even in their eighties and nineties, he also wondered what roles they played in ensuring that the people were only exposed to a view of the universe that favored the Irvanian monarchy.


    The insights he had received from his wyrm companion still lingered in his mind. The version of history he had studied growing up and the version of history he had experienced through the glimpses shared by the Wyrm had been quite different. The Yaskh had always been portrayed as a race of barbarian scavengers - violent fiends opposed to the progress of humanity. But the reality had been quite nuanced. And Irathor''s army had been the aggressors. But how much could he truly the predator either?


    Then there was the revelation about Saan.


    The academy had taught that the Saan were a mycelial race spread throughout a sub-dimensional aetherial plane. While that may have been technically correct, Norman''s assumption had always been that they were more of a non-sentient biological phenomena. Many branches of technology took advantage of the distributed reconciliation system that the Saan facilitated.


    That the Saan were an evolved, intelligent race with their own rules and relationships was akin to discovering that cucumbers had established a parallel monarchy in your backyard.


    Norman had drifted into his thoughts, not realizing that the broadcast about announcement of new Grandmasters was over. It was only when the autoplay moved on to a coverage of a prominent singer''s turbulent marital life, that Norman was pulled out of his thoughts and he quickly dismissed the footage. After flicking through a few more developments on the political fronts, he moved to the topic of his dissertation.


    The end of the academic cycle was coming to a closure, and in another month he would have to get his thesis to a state of completion. During his defense, a team of experts from all adjacent domains would question every aspect of his work and every result and conclusion would be analyzed from all possible angles. And Norman had to make sure it was iron-clad. Not even the smallest of the errors had any chance of passing the scrutiny of the scholarch.

 Ch 38 - The bargain that backfired

    "We are ready for you."


    Joriah''s accomodations had undergone improvements since his meeting with the Shehzadi. The biggest improvement was availability of a tablet that was stocked with information about recent developments across the galaxies. The tablet was still restricted from connecting with any of the cosmic information networks, but still for Joriah it was immensely helpful. After long years of seclusion, he had a lot to catch up on.


    He was deep in his explorations on industrial developments and power balance among the Irvanian conglomerates, when the door of his room slid open.


    The old guard from the day before was now accompanied by a younger one. Though age was difficult to tell for Kaiyaathians who lived for centuries, Joriah had spent enough time among them to infer the difference based on the extent to which their ears sagged and the difference in the luster of their dark skin. Between them, they dragged along another haggard, pale looking man whose hands were shackled behind his back. The guards'' expressions were more cautious and vary this time. Their maces remained inert, and they did not take any liberties with jokes.


    Joriah got up. He had no idea who the new human prisoner was, but he had his suspicions as to what fate awaited the man. He glanced at him once - the man stayed silent, but the expression in his eyes were screaming for help. Joriah turned his gaze towards the guards. Their grim expressions told him in no uncertain terms that it was not his problem. He stayed silent and walked out without questioning any further. There were heroes in the world, Joriah was not one of them.


    The high priest waited for him outside. "Your proposal has been accepted."


    Even though the Kaiyaathians'' facial expressions were challenging to read, Joriah did not need any expertise in their alien anatomy to know that the smile on Madhab Al''Pasha''s face was obviously fake. Of course, he would never say that out aloud. The glimmering sol shard that the priest pressed onto his hands was all Joriah really cared about. "Congratulations, Joriah, you are now a free man!"


    "So, how does this work? Me free to walk out the front door?" He looked around suspiciously.


    "We need to be a bit more discreet than that," the priest scowled. "The cover story will be that one of your companions from outside sneaked into my cohort of acolytes while I was visiting the prison to offer the inmates my blessings."


    Joriah found that particularly funny because in his months of imprisonment, nobody ever came to visit him with an offer of salvation. But then, perhaps such facilities were reserved for the Kaiyaathians only. A human in a Kaiyaathian prison was an oddity. "This miscreant managed to sneak in a device that could camouflage your soul signature while you switched places. The criminal was eventually discovered and suffered a horrific fate, but before that could happen you managed to use this device to escape."


    "This accomplice of mine would be the gentleman who was escorted in, I assume?" Joriah glanced once towards the door behind him, "What did he do to deserve such a fate?"


    "Something treacherous, none of your concern." The priest waived impatiently.


    Joriah mulled over the plan in his head. He didn''t like the narrative of either being rescued, or leaving behind a friend to die who had risked his life to rescue him. But, he kept his displeasure to himself. There was much at stake, and there was only so much you could get when negotiating with your captor. And the truth was, the Kaiyaathians did have the upper hand.


    As Joriah stepped out of the outer gate, the guard adjusted the virtual controls on the mechanical device that he had strapped around his arm. The gauntlet like construct looked foreign in design - but that was not surprising. The Kaiyaathians had made their fortune by scavenging technologies from other races. Joriah looked around for any visible effect, but other than a gentle glow on the panel, whatever the contraption did was not visible to the naked eye.


    "So this device is real? It is actually possible to camouflage your soul signature?" He asked, picking up the gray garb of acolytes the other guard handed him.


    "If it weren''t, the security system would have fried you already." The priest offered, in a tone that clearly indicated that that was the outcome he would have personally preferred.


    Once Joriah changed into the ceremonial garb of San''h Jafath - the servants of the faith, Madhab Al''Pasha moved out. Three other identically clothed acolytes accompanied him as they followed behind the high priest. "No open communication beyond this point," another acolyte murmured, subtly pointing towards the recording constructs that dotted the ceiling at recurring intervals. Joriah nodded once.


    They ascended up the spiral staircase carved along the inner periphery of the dormant volcano, eventually stopping a few hundred feet below the opening on top. Joriah had expected them to go all the way to the top, but instead they took a diversion through a corridor carved into the mountain. Once they traversed the length of the narrow passage, the guard gently tapped on a panel and a hidden gate, almost invisible, was revealed.


    Joriah followed behind the members of the faith as they traversed through the dark, dimly lit passageway that lied beyond. After what felt like hours of silent, laborious trudging, they emerged into a wide opening. Joriah noticed that at some point during their walk, the scent of the air had changed. The ever present odor of sulfuric aerosol was gone, and the smell that now greeted him reminded him of varnish and antiseptics.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    He also wondered why the decorations on the walls looked familiar - the building they had come out in, was clearly not the prison complex. Ornate statues, at least twenty feet in height, stood along the walls and the bustle of a crowd could be heard in distance. The place was impeccably clean, and he could hear their footsteps echoing in the large space. In a few more minutes, the group eventually arrived at a grand archway fashioned from colossal, luminescent crystals, and Joriah''s jaw hung open as recognition took root. This had to be the Laf''Yernath museum - one of the largest and most well-preserved collections of artifacts from Yaskh culture.


    A labyrinth of exhibits was visible just beyond the archway, each dedicated to a specific aspect of the Yaskh ecosystem and the cultures they had close ties with. The only problem was that Laf''Yernath was in a planet three light years away from where the Kaiyaathian prison had been.


    "Did we just¡­" Joriah looked askance towards the other acolyte who accompanied.


    The veiled acolyte gestured him to be quiet, "You must not ever mention about this wormhole to anyone."


    Joriah could understand his trepidation. They had revealed to him a secret passageway that connected vastly separated worlds. He had mostly thought of wormholes as celestial phenomenon but now that he thought more of it, it would be entirely feasible to have a wormhole anchored to locations within a planet. How that worked out with planetary motions changing the alignments between the two points was something he was curious about, but now was not the time for an academic discussion.


    Above them, a gigantic skeleton of a prehistoric monster that the Abyssal Khanate had slain in a vicious battle was hung from the ceiling. A harmonious blend of bioluminescent organics and crystalline minerals, pulsed with an ethereal glow in shelves to their right.


    Weaving in through sparse groups of visitors, they emerged out of the building and arrived at a steep cliffside that overlooked a forest. A SVoyLPad could be seen in a clearing a few miles away. Numerous flightcrafts stood on standby while a small group of guards seemed to be performing some sort of inspection. Joriah vaguely remembered that the museum did have a separate pad near the entrance for visitors. The one before them, in the backyard of the famed museum, looked like a separate facility reserved for military use.


    The old priest gestured, and one of the Kaiyaathian ships rose up and glided towards them, its exterior shimmering with an iridescent sheen. The vessel''s outer surface was adorned with markings that pulsed with a mesmerizing rhythm, casting an otherworldly glow around it. The craft''s overall design bore a striking resemblance to a cross between a rover and a dragonfly, with its large, translucent wings folding neatly against its body when not in use.


    Suddenly, a messenger came running and whispered something in the priest''s ears. The expression in his face turned grim, and activating his earpiece, he addressed the faujdar who navigated the vessel.


    "I must attend to some important business back in the Yae Tal''hefier, but please escort my acolytes to Kandara."


    Joriah, of course, had no real reason to venture into the capital city of Kaiyaathian empire. Given the extent of security in the royal capital, he would have zero chance of coming out of there alive.


    The Madhab looked at him once and nodded slightly, his fingers tapping on the ceremonial blade that all Kaiyaathians carried. Joriah understood - the acolytes were getting sacrificed, as was the faujdar who steered the craft. From this point onward, Joriah was on his own.


    The logical part of his mind pushed him to keep quiet and follow the plan as laid out. It would be the safest thing to do. It wasn''t like he hadn''t killed before. It wasn''t like he hadn''t killed innocents before. But something deep within him, something primal, rebelled against the idea of the entitled old man walking away while his own followers were left behind to the mercy of an assassin.


    Giving in to his instincts, he lowered his hood. Immediately, all hell broke loose.


    "Hey, who are you?" The faujdar yelled out, alarmed.


    The faujdar may not have known Joriah specifically, but a human among the acolytes of the Kaiyaathian faith stood out like a beacon in the dark. And the scars on Joriah''s face clearly marked him out as a man who had not led a life of comfort and compliance.


    In an instant, the vessel''s flame launcher swiveled towards Joriah. The other acolytes panicked and screamed. But for Joriah, the last blademaster of the Yemeth elite force, chaos was an old friend. All the acoloytes carried ceremonial blades with them too, as mandated by the One Faith. Pushing aside the nearest acolyte, he pulled out the blade from his scabbard, and hurled it towards the old priest who had just turned back in surprise. Flying true, the blade slashed him on the face, leaving a deep gash on his cheek.


    Even before the guard who accompanied him could activate his weapon, Joriah had crossed the gap between them. The strike had not been lethal. The ceremonial blades were not regularly sharpened, their significance was primarily religious. Still, given the force with which it had been thrown, a trail of crimson flowed down the priest''s immaculate robes.


    "Why?" the words had only begun to take shape on the Madhab''s lips when Joriah punched the guard in the face, pulled out his electric mace and plunged it into his neck. The same one that he had used on Joriah''s before. Unlike Joriah though, the guard had never been on the receiving end of his weapon. "I hope you find the experience rejuvenating," he said, tossing the man off the cliff. But not before taking away the gauntlet like construct he had strapped around his arm.


    Wrapping his arm around the old priest''s throat, Joriah backed away from the cliffside. The military flight craft did not dare to fire on the Madhab. "You will not get out of this alive..." The priest forced the words out, choking on Joriah''s stronghold.


    "We will see about that." Joriah dragged him back along the same path they had followed.


    The priest was fuming with rage, "You cannot lay your hands on me. The Sultenate will hunt you down. You will have nowhere to run."


    "Oh, I have no intention of running away anywhere, Priest. Do you want to bet what the Royal family will do if I come back to Kaiyaath with Wyrmblood flowing in my veins?"


    Behind him, he could hear the Kaiyaathian elite forces storming into the museum. Joriah inhaled the fresh air, deeply, for one last time before shoving the priest back towards the tunnel they had come out of.


    "But before that, let''s first find out just how dormant this volcano is."

 Ch 39 - The Guildmasters Dilemma

    Cassius Ramsen, the dashing young Guildmaster of Emerald Crust sat frowning at his desk. "Help me understand, why are we getting penalized now? We have been circumventing these regulations for decades." The office from where presided over his guild had been his father''s, and retained the signs of opulance from a time long past. The polished pillars were streaked with gold and silver along the edges, and tasteful paintings from renowned painters adorned the walls.


    The slick-haired consultant sitting opposite to him scratched the bridge of his nose. "Our best guess would be that you have done something else that has earned you the ire of the God King."


    Cassius fidgeted with a small dataslab in the corner of the desk, while the consultant wiped an imaginary stain off his impeccably tailored attire. "So you are saying that he could have known about the corners we have been cutting all along¡­" Sleep had evaded the young leader for many nights now, and dark circles were gaining prominence on his once handsome face.


    The consultant knew he was hedging on possibilities, but all his investigation over the last few days had yielded nothing else. He nodded, "And he just chose not to take any action because the scale of violations were not deemed worthy of the Protectorate''s attention. But if something else that you have done in the near past has angered him, for which he may not have evidence to prosecute you..."


    "He can get back to us through other means." Cassius connected the dots.


    "That would be our best guess. We would recommend performing a deep introspection of operations across your departments and aborting anything that go against the Irvanian founding principles." The consultant''s penetrating gaze was almost accusatory.


    Cassius felt his temple throbbing. He did not really need to perform a deeper introspection. He knew exactly what could have angered the galactic monarch. The consultant they had hired knew nothing of this, but a secret team within their organization had recently started collaborating with Helicon and, following a template labeled AX-149, they had bulk manufactured an aegis that could be retrofitted into the rebel warcrafts. The designs that Helicon had supplied for this project had been far beyond in complexity compared to what the rebel groups usually dealt with. In the hindsight, it should have been obvious to Cassius that the designs could have been originated from an Irvanian source. Could they have been stolen from the Protectorate itself?


    Few months back, this decision had seemed like a practical solution for their mounting financial troubles. Collaborating with rebel groups always carried immense risk, but they were close to defaulting on loans they had accumulated. They had been careful in compartmentalizing the operations of this group, but now it seemed like somehow the God King had still somehow tracked this project back to their guild.


    If Cassius had been smarter, he would have anticipated this possibility long ago. Only a hundred or so guilds in the empire had the infrastructure and test support system to manufacture a military project of that scale, and the timeframe of the production, the rate of delivery and the rate of defects in the deliverables statistically eliminated most other candidates. Emerald Crust may have hidden the specifics of one group, but the God King had access to the supply chain data across all known universe, and through a series of statistical aggregations of resources flowing in and out across all departments of all guilds, he eventually pinpoint that there was a production deficit in Emerald Crust''s reported deliverables that on one hand did not align with the resources they were consuming, and on the other hand aligned quite well with the rebel groups getting access to hitherto unknown sophisticated machinery.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    But of course, if Cassius had been smarter, he would not have ended up in this financially decrepit situation in the first place, where he would be desperate enough to rely on rebel groups to save his company. He had received a fortune from his father in inheritance, and the guild he surprisingly found himself at the helm of at a rather early age, had been flourishing. But given his inexperience, he had continued to fall into traps set by his competitors over the years since, and failed to foresee or adapt to changing market trends. So within ten years, the name Emerald Crust had transformed from a well respected household name to something of a laughing stock among businessmen of the empire.


    Now, desperation mounting, Cassius decided to approach the problem from a different angle. Perhaps there was still a way to save the guild. "Off the books, are any of the other guilds you know of which may also have displeased the God king in the near past?" he asked the consultant, his brows knit.


    This was not a line of conversation the advisor had expected. But after a bit of  thought, tapping through his tablet, he paused at a listing that was all too familiar. "Why, the Ortimus conglomerate, of course. Nothing has been made public yet, but if the gossip in the online forums are to be believed, they have done something to deeply offend the God King too. The Protectorate scrutiny on their operation have drastically grown over the last few months."


    "Thank you, Leutus," Cassius stood up. "You have given me much to think about. I''ll ask my subordinates to get started on this investigation," he lied.


    Once the consultant had left, Cassius spent the next hour methodically delving through the market reports and open bids. Once he had formulated a new plan of action, he called up Gaius, his associate. "We need to abort Project Azaroth."


    "But Sir, We have already incurred the costs for next batch of production." Gaius was alarmed, "And what are we going to do about the upcoming loan deadline?"


    "We still have thirty-five batches of Zythramine shipment for Ortimus planned, yes? If the reports in front of me are correct," Cassius zoomed into the inventory overview, "we have already manufactured ten batches ahead of time which are ready to be shipped."


    "Yes, but what does Zythramine have anything to do with..."


    Cassius cut off his subordinate, "We will sell that to Nomtheon." He tapped through the listing, navigating to the marketplace broadcast he had bookmarked - a high-priority emergency bid that had caught his attention. "They are planning to aggressively expand in Sector 93 and are willing to pay a premium. In advance."


    "But what about our five-year contract with Ortimus?" Gaius found himself increasingly concerned with the direction of this conversation.


    "Deliver their batch as scheduled. But partially substitute it with a lower quality fuel. The remainder in expenses should enable us to offer an early partial payment to the loaner, and we will be able to appeal to them for an extension."


    "Ortimus will not take this kind of fraud lightly..."


    "I am certain of it." Cassius gritted his teeth.


    "But Sir, if they retaliate in court, it could mean the end of our guild." Gaius insisted, his apprehension growing.


    "I have a feeling we will be able to delay their legal proceedings." Cassius was playing a dangerous game, but he was a hustler through and through. "Ortimus has fallen out of the God King''s favor, and our lawyers would be able to take advantage of that in court." All he needed was a few more months of time. Or so he thought, completely unaware of the chaos that his life was about to get plunged into.


    "Do it." Cassius disconnected.

 Ch 40 - New frontiers

    Norman dreamt of golden eyes.


    In the depths of his restless slumber, his new apartment was a dark, twisted place with shadows dancing menacingly on the walls. A chilling wind crept through the room, sending shivers down his spine.


    From the darkness emerged a figure, her golden eyes framed by long dark hair streaming down around her face. The all too familiar irises pierced the veil of the night like twin beacons of malevolence. Her face, illuminated by the blazing eyes alone, was as beautiful as he remembered, but the rest of her was a grotesque being with a mangled body and twisted claws. In the shifting waves of unnatural darkness, she approached him with an unnatural grace, each step accompanied by an echoing cackle that reverberated through the room.


    Norman was frozen in inexplicable dread, unable to move, as Flavia''s eyes bore into him, a burning intensity that seemed to sear his soul. His heart raced, his mind a whirl of fear and desperation. He tried to utter something, but his voice was stolen from him as the Flavia''s malignant presence sucked out all sound from the room. With each step she took, Norman felt his spirit being chipped away, his will to resist crumbling like sand beneath the tide.


    He could feel her rage grow, but could only watch in horror as his own strength and resolve ebbed away. Bound to his place by invisible cords, Norman was a helpless observer to the destruction of his own being, a puppet to the whims of this malevolent force.


    Somehow, in defiance of all physics, the distance between them never reduced, but with every step that Flavia took towards him, the room shook with the intensity of her presence. Norman could only feel the weight of his own despair, the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to save himself. His mind began to fracture, the lines between reality and nightmare blurring. He could feel himself slipping away, his consciousness dissolving into the darkness. In his final moments, he could only beg for mercy, his pleas lost in the suffocating silent void.


    Suddenly, a ping on his tablet interrupted his dream. It was followed by another, and then yet another. As reality crashed in, the nightmare came to a close, leaving Norman to awaken with a start, drenched in sweat and trembling with fear.


    With shaking fingers, he steadied himself, grasping the edges of the table. Yet again, he had fallen asleep on his study table cross-verifying the results of his computations late into the night. And macabre dreams had followed his fatigue. Shuffling into the washroom, he splashed his face with water repeatedly, the last remnants of the feeling of utter helplessness departing. But the memory of Flavia''s golden-eyes lingered, a haunting reminder that the woman was likely plotting his demise somewhere. Even in the safety of his own home, the darkness still held a foothold.


    Once he felt somewhat relieved and blinked away the last of his sleep, he looked at the new notifications in his tablet. He had received messages in the chatroom he had joined using the moniker of Nazaar - the late scribe who had been his primary source of information about the Yaskh culture and technology. It was still the early hours of the morning, but timezones got complicated when members were spread out across multiple planets.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The sender was familiar - an individual who went by just ''L''.


    The conversations in the chatroom had been awkward at first. Norman had introduced himself as a close confidante of Kiri and the progenitor of the aegis project. Over time, the latter part helped establish trust with the group because he was obviously intimately familiar with the design of that project, and could answer their questions about its architecture.


    He, of course, omitted anything about Kiri''s death. Kiri was officially missing, and Norman only mentioned that she had not been seen in months. While he detested this entire deception, he had presented Kiri''s disappearance as the primary reason for joining this room. His story was that Kiri had feared for her life, and shared the credentials for the chatroom with Norman through a failsafe notification.


    The individual who had messaged him, L, had been very concerned about Kiri''s disappearance. Perhaps someone who had known her before the academy.


    After his relentless poking and prodding on the specifics, Norman had cautiously fed him a carefully altered version of events. He mentioned that through Remus, Kiri had planned to extract some valuable secrets from the Ortimus guild. But Flavia Ortimus had been getting suspicious. There was a likelihood that her true identity as a member of Helicon rebel group had been uncovered by Flavia.


    Norman could not tell whether L bought this explanation or not. But he had not been kicked out of the virtual room.


    Today''s message was accompanied by an attachment.


    *L: This might interest you. Related to our last conv.*


    Norman surmised that the conversation L was referring to was when Norman had messaged about his inability to obtain a good resource that offered an unbiased treatment on the true nature of the Saan mycelia.


    Apparently, L had found something for him. But the size of the payload was suspicious.


    Norman immediately downloaded the message in a secure sandbox that he shared with Garvin and thanked L.


    In just half an hour, Garvin knocked on his door.


    "Man, this is dangerous..."


    Norman just smiled. This was not unexpected. He had been waiting for the members of the rebel group to try something nefarious. He wouldn''t expect them to trust a random stranger with their secrets.


    "Yes, I suspected something fishy from the size. This is supposedly a collection of publications on Saan mycelia."


    "That it is, but there is something else embedded alongside the documents. Likely a virus"


    They spent the next half day trying to figure out exactly what L had sent them in an isolated sandbox. But eventually, it became apparent that the payload was a notification beacon. "It looks like our friend is trying to verify our location."


    "Let us not keep him waiting for long, then"


    They took the throwaway device housing the sandbox to a location away from their apartments and relaxed the restrictions. As expected, the software embedded in the document immediately pinged a remote address with a summary of their location.


    "What now?" Garvin asked.


    "Let''s hope they were only attempting to verify that we are actually in the Illustrious Torus. Does the document look legit?"


    "That it does."


    They flicked through the stack of virtual pages of the humongous set of compendiums that appeared to have been extracted from various sources.


    A smile spread on Norman''s face as he realized exactly who had authored most of the articles. The late Yaskh scribe Nazaar.

 Ch 41 - The aftermath of bravado

    "What is so important that it was important to awaken me at this hour?" Sultan Dakhir asked, groggy and irked. The last few months had been onerous. Last night, he had barely had four hours of sleep. With his body slowly rejecting the wyrmblood he had been ingesting for more than a century, age was catching up fast now.


    "Madhab Al''Pasha has been assassinated."


    "What? How?" All sleep immediately melted away as the ramifications of what the messenger was saying unfolded in his mind. The kingdom was already in turmoil. While the religious sect hadn''t had any real power for quite some time now, the murder of their leader could easily trigger an avalanche of violence.


    "We believe a prisoner we were detaining in Yae Tal''hefier is responsible. A human called Joriah - a mercenary who was working for fringe powers. He was captured by Fangshahat when attempting to extract a high value Yaskh artifact from the world of Nil''Sofeh.


    "Wait... are you saying this prisoner managed to escape from Yae Tal''hefier?" If this was true it would change the perception of Kaiyaathian military prowess forever.


    "Sir, Yae Tal''hefier does not exist anymore."


    "What?" Dakhir''s feet wobbled.


    The guard cautiously continued, "we are still piecing together the events, but it seems like someone managed to insert themselves into the prison as an acolyte of the Faith, and accompanied by the Madhab, they sneaked in a device that could impersonate soul signatures."


    "Impersonate soul signatures? That is theoretically impossible - no two individuals may have the same signature. And it is impossible to alter." Dakhir was beginning to wonder if this entire thing was an elaborate deception.


    "We believe this device is of Helicon design. It does not actually change the soul signature. It simply tricks any probe attempting to capture an impression of the soul signature into believing that it is recording something else."


    Zakir sat down, frowning. "That is brilliantly deceitful." A trick - albeit one that would be fiendishly difficult to actually execute, but not outside the realm of possible.


    "Indeed Hujoor. We believe that once out of his cell, Joriah killed one of the faujdars and impersonated him to access the underground power generators. Then he rerouted the power coils to create an internal loop that overloaded the internal power grid. The resulting explosion triggered a cascade of destruction, that was massive enough to revive the volcano."


    "Do we know for sure that this Joriah escaped from this facility? Did he survive the demolition he instigated?"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Ji Hujoor. We do know he survived."


    "How?" Dakhir had picked up the information slate and was now browsing through the disconnected reports from different sub-commanders. The messenger was getting visibly uncomfortable and nervous, but Dakhir needed the full picture.


    "He...uh...has put up the preserved head of the Madhab in a DarkMOS auction house."


    The Sultan''s jaw hung open. "The Madhab''s head? In an auction house?" This went beyond just preposterous, this was a mockery of the entire Sultenate.


    "Ji Hujoor. His starting bid was ten million sol. But over the last few hours the offers have gone up to fifty million."


    "This is ridiculous. Can we locate from where the bid was initiated?" Dakhir started pacing once again. The fallout from this chain of events would be difficult to rein in.


    While the Sultan sat contemplating the ramifications, Shehzadi Reina arrived. She was about to knock, but the Sultan waived her in with a gesture. From the expression on her face, it was clear that she had been briefed about the news.


    The messenger continued after scrolling through a few more of the incoming reports, "While we can''t intercept the bid and the auction house is backed by a powerful coalition of great powers, Joriah had submitted an announcement video in which a mountain peak could be seen. Our munshies believe this could be the Berg der Tr?ume in Haveskon. We can not be completely sure though."


    At Haveskon being mentioned, an odd expression flickered on the Shehzadi''s face. It lasted only a moment, but the Sultan didn''t miss it.


    "Pedar, please allow me to lead the investigation for apprehending this criminal." Reina asked her father, her fists clenched but voice composed.


    "Yes, but this mess has already spiraled too far. Ask Shehzada Rah''Drakh to help you with military support. You will have the might of the Fangshahat at your disposal. And, I want the Madhab''s head recovered." The Sultan concluded. Perhaps a tragedy of this kind was the ideal opportunity for his children to rise to their potential and establish their foothold in the adareh.


    Her brother''s involvement complicated matters because he had no clue about the plan Shehzadi had been concocting with the Madhab. But Reina thought better than to argue with the Sultan. She would just have to tread delicately. At least her involvement in Joriah''s escape hadn''t come to light yet, and if the vandal was actually in Haveskon, there was still a possibility that he could lead her to wyrmblood.


    "I hate to say this, Hujoor but attacking the auctionhouse may backfire catastrophically." The messenger offered his last suggestion, handing over a listing of the parties who protected the auction house. "Our best bet may be to just pay off the sum." This was one of the last few neutral grounds outside Irvanian jurisdiction. Multiple non-human great powers whose influence had dwindled over the last century as Irvania rose to its prominence were deeply invested in keeping it secure.


    His self-control waning, the Sultan slammed his fist on the table in front. Even a few years ago, the force of the impact would have barely registered, but now a sharp pain thrummed through his hand.


    Shehzadi could understand her father''s trepidation. The Sultenate had been hemorrhaging money on multiple fronts, and spending an incredibly large sum on this was just stupid. "Please allow me some time. We may be able to find an alternative. I have some connections with Helicon who may prove helpful."


    Dakhir nodded, barely. He was growing weak when the empire needed him the most. The Shehzadi and the messenger bowed out.


    The nanomaterial that the table was constructed with slowly repaired the damage while the Sultan continued to pace. Over the years, the table had been on the receiving end of many such outbursts, and the Kaiyaathian craftsmen had prepared for such eventualities.

 Ch 42 - Covert plans

    Cassius was unaware, but his discussion with Galvius was not as discreet as he would have liked.


    Eli Torwind, an apprentice who had, not coincidentally, joined Emerald Crust as a workflow configuration auxilium around the same time that the guild had begun its collaboration with Helicon, received a transcript of the conversation on his company issued tablet, heavily modded now, within seconds of Cassius disconnecting.


    The server room was dimly lit and the low hum of the large data processors and cooling units was ever present. It was late in the evening and besides a skeleton crew of maintenance staff performing routine inspection and troubleshooting operations around the corridors the place was mostly deserted. Most of the staff connected to the systems here remotely. Majority of the personnel were not even aware of the existence of this place, though the machinery housed here played a critical role in orchestration of Emerald Crust''s galactic operations.


    As Eli scanned over the communication discreetly, their brow furrowed. They quickly pulled out another flexitab from his pocket. Unrolling the cylindrical device, they swiped through to access a secret application that connected them with their handler in Helicon. They quickly typed out their latest round of updates in the covert chatroom window:


    L: Emerald Crust caving in. Azaroth will be aborted.


    As Eli waited for a response, they looked around the room. The servers were housed in tall, metal racks, their blinking lights casting a soft glow across the room. The pulsing indicators were arranged in neat rows, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls as they flickered on and off in a synchronized dance. The servers were interspersed with various probes which the technicians could hook into for monitoring and inspection.


    To preserve their anonymity Eli, or L as they were known outside the inner circle of Helicon, had to bounce around his communications through a network of relay nodes. While this system did manage to ensure reasonably well that the messages could not be intercepted, it did add a substantial delay to the communication. However, a few minutes later, through numerous intermediate proxies, a link was established to a Helicon nexus node, and immediately replies from his handler streamed in.


    E: Negotiation possible? If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    L: Unlikely. Financial situation strenuous.


    E: Time for Option C then?


    L: Affirmative.


    E: Can our friend at Academy really be trusted?


    L: We will find out. I am planning to head there in person.


    E: Wait what?


    ¡°Hey, are you slacking off?¡± A loud gruff voice interrupted them.


    "While on company time you are not allowed personal devices." A bald middle manager towered over Eli. ¡°If I report this, you will be penalized.¡±


    This was not Eli''s first encounter with this person. Tiberius was one of those folks who had just enough intelligence to make them capable of making life difficult for everyone else around them. His face, though not unattractive in its own right, held a permanent expression of discontent, as if each line and crease was a testament to the countless hours spent in the service of a thankless corporate machine.


    Eli had modded the chatroom interface to look like one of the popular games. While they were typing in a tiny section in the corner, the rest of the screen was taken up by ephemeral virtual characters wielding futuristic guns who shot at monstrous silhouettes in a continuous, never-ending loop.


    Jumping to conclusion based on the flashy graphics, Tiberius paid no attention to the text on the screen. As always, he looked tired. His eyes, sunken and hollow, betrayed a lack of sleep and an excess of stress. Fine lines criss crossed his forehead, and deep wrinkles etched their way around his mouth, as if chronicling a lifetime of suppressed anger and frustration.


    Eli¡¯s first instinct was to tell the guy to shove it. With Azaroth getting aborted, there wasn¡¯t much left for him in this place, and the guild was anyway headed into a downward spiral.


    But then, they recollected the message by the stranger from the academy who called himself Nazaar. The guildmaster Flavia whom Cassius was planning to swindle was the same person who possibly had a hand in Kiri¡¯s disappearance. There may yet be an opportunity here.


    ¡°I am so sorry, Sir.¡± Eli said, putting forth their friendliest smile. "This will not happen again."


    ¡°You better not. We take security very seriously here.¡± The pretentious chubby man intoned, turning away. Reflections of the blinking indicators around could be seen on the glistening surface of his bald head.


    ¡°Of course, Sir.¡± Eli laughed on the inside. Within a month of joining the guild, they had been able to hack into most of the classified archives. After a year of tinkering, they had, by now, granted themselves privileges higher than even the guildmaster. The security measures were laughably bad.


    They just quietly rolled up the flexitab and stashed it into their bag.

 Ch 43 - A long due confrontation

    ¡°Help me understand why our quality parameters were not met.¡±


    Cassius had been engrossed in a deep discussion with his lawyers on different possible solutions to appeal for deferment on the payment of their loans, when the door of the boardroom slammed open and Flavia stormed in.


    A flabbergasted receptionist came running behind, looking visibly squeamish. He only squirmed further when he saw the enraged expression on Cassius¡¯s face. He had strictly instructed the guards and receptionists to turn away any representatives From Ortimus, but Flavia was a force of nature.


    The lawyers noticed the tension in the room, and stood up. "Perhaps you have more important matters to attend to, Mr. Cassius, we¡¯d be happy to reschedule this to a later date," the senior advocate politely offered, picking up his device and disconnecting it from the mesh. Flavia''s temper was widely known, and nobody had any intention to get in the way of the Ortimus guild.


    "This shouldn¡¯t take more than a few minutes." Cassius attempted to put up a bold facade, not bothering to get up from his seat.


    "Oh really?" Flavia shot back, "You will manage to replace all the substandard shipments and compensate for our losses in a matter of minutes? How beautiful, here I was wondering if this long trip would be another epic waste of time."


    ¡°Please, Ms. Ortimus, this matter has already been brought to my attention by one of the subordinates. We are investigating this internally, and we will get back to you shortly. It is likely to be a one-off manufacturing issue. We will address the root-cause and get the production on track as soon as we can.¡±


    "Damn it, Cassius, that is what your subordinates have been saying for the last two weeks. And we still haven¡¯t received the shipments we were promised," Flavia seethed. The lawyers had all left by now. The large boardroom, where his father had presided over numerous important deals over the decades, now was empty except for the two of them.


    Cassius wondered if it was his imagination or the room was getting darker. The expanse of polished glass that overlooked the corridor outside now looked foggier and darker than usual, even for a late evening.


    "I promise you, Flavia, we will do a thorough investigation of our processes. We just ask that you give us some time." Cassius fidgeted, his twitching fingers betraying his emotions. The ceiling lights reflected on the dark wooden table strangely flickered. Cassius felt an explicable trepidation taking root.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "With every passing day, we are taking losses in the order of millions." Flavia approached him slowly, and Cassius felt his throat tighten. "I will personally make sure I recover every sol from you, even if it means taking apart this whole tower brick by brick until nothing remains." A subtle fetid stench wound its way into his nose, and Cassius suddenly realized that he could not breathe.


    "Do I have your assurance that you will make it the mission of your life to sort out my shipments, Cassius?" Flavia leaned forward, resting her hand on the large mahogany table.


    "Y-Yes." He managed to force the words out, but it took every ounce of effort he could muster.


    "I hope you mean those words, Cassius. Because if not, our next meeting may very well be your last." A barely visible spiderweb of cracks grew on the polished old wood around her palm resting on the surface.


    "I-I do." Cassius choked, mustering the courage to stare at Flavia''s gleaming golden eyes. For the next few seconds, she just stared at him silently, not uttering another word. He had met her before, and even then, she had come across as formidable. But now, Cassius felt like he was dealing with a dangerous criminal with no regard for any law.


    The room blurred around him, and Cassius felt that he saw Flavia glide towards the exit.


    It was only after she had left, that Cassius found himself able to breathe easily again. He pushed himself up on the table, but no sooner had he applied his weight onto the wooden surface, the entire table crumbled into infinitesimal pieces and shattered. Losing balance, he staggered down onto the floor, wood dust washing over him.


    Brushing off the dust, Cassius pushed himself up once again, staring at the mess in front of him. Somehow, Flavia had transformed - into what, he could not begin to fathom.


    Later, after he had splashed his face repeatedly with water, after he had given his heart the chance to slow down and after he had taken the pills he was increasingly reliant on for sleep, his mind would slowly, methodically come up with justifications for what he saw and what he felt in those moments. He would attribute his present state to a combination of stress, lack of sleep and guilt. But at that moment, for the first time in his life, the new Guildmaster of Emerald Crust experienced true terror.


    Five stories below, staring at the transcript he received, Eli was in equal parts baffled and surprised. How the hell had this woman managed to make the infamous guild master tremble in his own office?


    The student who went by Nazaar had mentioned that Flavia could have uncovered Kiri¡¯s identity. But if this person was powerful enough to face down Cassius, Eli would have to proceed with caution.


    The probe on his left notified them of Flavia taking the elevator up to the SVoyLPad on the roof, and Eli knew they had to act now. They were treading on a dangerous path here, but they needed to find out for themselves what happened to Kiri - their childhood friend they had one day hoped to propose to. If there was a chance she still lived, Eli would make sure she was found.


    They quickly activated the malware they had planted earlier in the day, and six stories above, the elevator screeched to a halt.

 Ch 44 - Uncanny encounters

    Flavia¡¯s annoyance flared yet again. She had barely gone past a few floors when the cranky elevator jerked to a halt. Some kind of technical fault in this day and age? A fat elderly man beside her scowled and immediately tried to call someone on his holcom. From the frustration expression on his face, it looked like the call was failing to go through.


    When nobody responded for several minutes, she briefly contemplated ripping apart the steel encasing and just leaping up to the roof, but she didn¡¯t want to create a spectacle. Not only was she not alone, hundreds of people were milling about outside in this very building.


    There would soon come a day when she would no longer have to worry about these people. When the cosmos would be ready to accept them for what they were, but it was not yet the time. For now, she had to tiptoe around the rules set by the God king. The man beside her was increasingly getting agitated. Something about getting delayed for some pathetic, inconsequential meeting.


    They didn¡¯t have to wait long. Soon, a maintenance light lit up in a corner and with a whining sound, the elevator realigned with the floor below.


    A young auxilium wearing a receptacle over their left eye, and holding a rollable tablet in right hand, greeted them with a fake smile. Their face was gaunt and pale, with deep-set eyes that betrayed an underlying tension and anxiety. A mop of unkempt, sandy-blonde hair fell haphazardly over their forehead.  "Oh, I am so sorry for the inconvenience. We strive for the highest level of amenities for our customers, but once in a while something does happen that slips through our safeguards."Stolen novel; please report.


    Flavia did not need a single glance towards the technician to know their sincerity was fake. Their heart rate was normal and her heightened senses did not detect any apocrine secretions. She had barely stepped past him when the young auxilium yelled out behind her in a quivering voice.


    ¡°Ms. Flavia Ortimus, Right? Oh, you are such a big inspiration. Could you please share an autograph?¡±


    The elderly manager, who was obviously employed by Emerald Crust, turned towards him with a look of disdain. "Who is your manager?"


    "Oh, this will only take a minute." The overenthusiastic technician practically thrust up their device on her face, paying no attention to the other man.


    Flavia had intended to simply move on, but then she saw the text that shimmered into existence on the glossy surface of the device. In small letters, the text said: ''WE MAY BE ABLE TO OFFER A BETTER SOLUTION FOR YOUR SHIPMENT PROBLEM''. Behind her, the other man muttered something inaudible and walked away.


    Frowning, Flavia looked back at the auxilium, and immediately noticed their demeanor had changed. The childish, frivolous smile was gone, and they now stood straight upright. Their finely arched and dark eyebrows framing their eyes now appeared to add an air of quiet intensity. Their lips, thin and pursed, revealed a hint of a serious thoughtful expression.


    "Not here," Eli muttered, pointing towards the launchpad above. "Somewhere discreet."


    Below the text, a logo flashed on the tablet, A stylized H circled by a pentagonal star. Helicon.

 Ch 45 - An ambitious project

    Norman was waiting to meet a magister for his thesis submission. The curved glass wall in the waiting area looked outwards, away from the planet. He had overestimated the time it would take to find her office. It was the early hours in the morning, and the magister had yet to arrive. Her office was still locked, and the waiting room was completely deserted at this hour.


    Instead of sitting down in one of the minimal cushioned chairs that lined the wall, Norman just stood in a corner, contemplating the view outside, as well as all that had happened in the span of a single academic year. This year had been a turning point for him in so many ways, and he was sure he would be dealing with the repercussions of these events all his life.


    The dark convex glass dimmed the bright light of the rising sun. The early morning light reflecting off the icy asteroids that circled the planet further beyond offered a mesmerizing view.


    Norman had not slept at all the night before. Late into the night, after he had confirmed the results of the final round of his simulations and was planning to sleep for a few hours before submitting his entry to the magistrate, another notification had caught his attention - an alert from one of the news subscriptions he had set up.


    A major Kaiyaathian prison had been completely eviscerated.  It was not common for Irvanian news outlets to cover regular developments in the Kaiyaathian empire. For one, Kaiyaath was extremely secretive about its administration. Because of their strange and restrictive faith on the one hand, and the many liberties with genetic modifications they had taken over the centuries on the other, Kaiyaathians were largely considered an outsider race. They may have been human once, but their culture had evolved almost entirely outside any Irvanian influence.


    Norman found this news alarming for a different reason. Kaiyaathian culture had historically been closely associated with Yaskh. Most of the well-preserved Yaskh ruins were currently in Kaiyaathian territories, and they were the last of the people who were known to be in touch with the Yaskh race. Many elements of their present day culture and tradition could be traced back to Yaskh influences.


    So the warning bells in Norman''s mind eliminated all possibility of sleep the moment he heard about a famed prison getting completely destroyed by a sudden volcanic eruption that nobody had predicted. He had spent the last few hours of the night exploring any cues about the Nightwyrm''s involvement, but all he could gather from the myriad news clips was that apparently one man - a single individual - had claimed responsibility for this event. A widely condemned terrorist known only as Joriah, who was involved in at least five hundred open cases in Irvania alone. Could the Wyrm really have survived? Could this man be its next host? An accomplishment like this was certainly unprecedented - the Yae Tal¡¯hefier was known for its stellar security, and nobody had ever escaped the prison in the past.


    He was pulled out of his thoughts by Magister Stallworth arriving, "Hello Norman, I have been looking forward to meeting you. All set with your project submission?" She asked with a smile.


    The magister looked a bit different from how Norman remembered her from the profile image. The wrinkles on her face were slightly more prominent, as were the shadows under her eyes. She had been a part of the evaluation panel for five years now, and the task of assessing and grading the diverse range of projects that the students of the Academy worked on could only be incredibly daunting.


    "Yes, Magister. My submission is ready for your eyes. I am happy to answer any questions you might have." Norman answered politely. While there were four other designated magisters who could assess and approve the projects that would eventually be sent to the Scholarch for final evaluation, Rhea Stallworth had been Norman''s first choice for many reasons - the primary among them being the vast array of her accomplishments in the field of nuclear rehabilitation and terraforming.


    "Oh, I am happy to review. I am just surprised that you didn¡¯t wait for Leptimus to arrive."


    "Councilor Leptimus is coming here?" That surprised Norman. His mentor had not sent him any information regarding this.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Oh, you haven¡¯t been notified. How surprising." Rhea said, opening the door to her cabin. Norman followed behind and, with a swipe on his handheld device, made the contents of his dissertation available to the Magister over the internal network.


    Her cabin was a clean minimal setup, with not much to see besides a large white desk on which parts of an incomplete spherical construct lay in a semi-assembled state. Beyond the desk was the beautiful view of the asteroid belt sprawling out into the space beyond. The sun had risen further, and now the belt looked more like a yellow Fraskav field from Norman''s home world, Micrea.


    "Do you go home between the cycles?" Rhea asked, settling on a chair that had materialized behind the desk the moment she had arrived. Norman recollected that she too was originally from the same system.


    "Only once." Norman lied, "It has been a while, though." The day he had left that cursed world, he had decided that he wasn''t going back ever again. Not that there was anyone waiting for him back there - only the bullies from the orphanage.


    Rhea nodded, and putting down her tablet on the desk, activated its projector with a gesture. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw the topic of the dissertation, "Your project is not related to your project with Zenith Fidaeus at all?"


    Norman typically kept his face neutral - every emotion was a choice. But Rhea was anything if not observant. She noticed the slight flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Rothfurd is an old friend of mine. He has been raving about your work. That was one of the reasons why I was¡­" The rest of her words trailed off as she read through the abstract of the submission, "A completely self-contained evolutionary architecture for biome rehabilitation of worlds devastated by nuclear wars."


    She looked towards Norman with an expression that was part surprise and part admiration, "This is something you have independently accomplished?"


    "My friend Kiri had been helping me, but after her disappearance, I have taken her work to a closure." Norman added, hoping that she would not notice the trace of guilt in his voice.


    But Rhea was just too engrossed in the details of the submission at this point. "Oh¡­ yes, students disappearing from the academy - such a tragic occurrence." She didn''t even look up.


    Over the next hour, she quizzed him on the various specifics, how the results were simulated, the cost factors involved and the practicality of deploying the solution. Norman had been certain that his solution would be accepted, but still, as Rhea complimented him on the novelty of every unconventional choice he had made, he felt his heartbeat quicken. Rhea was the foremost expert in this domain, and an endorsement from her could go a long way in ensuring a bright future for Norman. He may not be able to get into the Protectorate, but he still could be a part of something that benefited Irvanian people at scale.


    "I assume you intend to patent this in collaboration with one of the organizations in the planetary terraforming sector?" Rhea asked after completing her inspection of the simulation results. "Have you spoken with any of them already?"


    That brought Norman to the final reason for approaching Rhea. "No, actually, I want to open source this project so that any affected world in the Irvanian empire can freely take advantage of this work. That was also why I kept this work separate from my contract with ZF."


    Rhea gaped at Norman for a second, before a wide smile completely transformed her face. "You aren''t just here to apply for the thesis submission, are you?"


    "No, I am also seeking the Academy''s approval to release the schematics under a permissible license."


    Historically, the students who worked on practical applications had always preferred to establish relationships with industrial guilds before they graduated. But Rhea was spearheading a small group of advocates who championed that all research with the potential to improve human lives at scale should be made freely available, unencumbered by patents and licenses.


    The Academy, which directly benefited from patronage of powerful guilds with commercial ambitions, had not received her proposals with open arms. But over the years, the group of Rhea''s supporters had grown and her mission - the Free Schematics Movement, had received accolades from prominent academic and industrial groups across the empire.


    "I will not just be happy to submit your research for approval," Rhea said after another couple of moments of sifting through the design document, "Once my team validates these results independently, I will personally champion your work to make sure it reaches as many people as possible."


    "Boy, if you have actually accomplished what these results indicate you have accomplished - you are going to become a very famous person very soon." She clasped her hands, concluding as the projection dissipated away.

 Ch 46 - An alliance forged in darkness

    Eli accompanied Flavia to her spacecraft in silence.


    Like all commercial operation towers in Irvanian metro cities, Emerald Crust''s base was required to have a SVoyLPad. The pad was mostly empty except for a few auxiliary company crafts lined up on one side. On the other side, in a corner was Flavia''s white vessel.


    Eli immediately recognized the voyager shaped like a rhombic dodecahedron with curved edges to be one of the high-end expensive ones,  though the craft didn''t sport any branding or insignia. Only a small logo of Ortimus - a stylized O with a small dot in the center could be seen in front. Other than the golden logo, the outer surface of the vessel was almost entirely white.


    As Flavia approached, the craft identified its owner, and one of its gleaming reflective sides detached and swiveled upwards revealing a door.


    Following behind Flavia, Eli was lost in thoughts attempting to recall the specifications of this vessel from a catalog they had seen a few months ago, and almost bumped into the mountain of a man who was standing silently in the darkness inside.


    "Oh sorry, didn''t see you." Eli stammered, as their eyes swept through the chiseled features of the muscular dark-skinned man. The man just continued to stare them down, unmoving, unblinking.


    Suddenly with a motion that Eli didn''t even see coming, they were pulled inside. Immediately, the door behind them closed shut.


    "What the hell?" Eli asked as pitch black darkness engulfed them. "Do you want to switch on the lights?"


    "Start talking." Flavia said. Her voice had changed. It appeared closer, menacing, amplified. But even within the close quarters of the spacecraft they couldn''t quite tell for sure where she stood.


    "Do we really have to do it this way?" Eli was beginning to realize that following Flavia into her own vessel may not have been that great an idea. They tried to flip open their tablet, but to their surprise they could not move their hands at all. The moment they tried to raise their arm, they could feel silent elastic threads slither around their skin and clothes, tightening themselves in place in a matter of seconds. In the absolute darkness, it was beyond eerie. Eli couldn''t see at all but from the way they slid around them, it didn''t feel like there was someone tightening the threads. It was as if the threads were alive.


    "What is Helicon¡¯s interest in Emerald Crust?" her voice echoed around him. A thin swirl of mist wafted around Eli, accompanied by a strange odor.


    At this point, there was no doubt left in Eli¡¯s mind that a single wrong answer could result in them not seeing the light of the day again. They chose to answer honestly. "They were contracted by us to manufacture AX-149 for us. They have failed to deliver."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "So now, you want to retaliate?"


    Eli gulped, the voice sending a shiver down his spine. "If an alternative were to be available to us, we may be able to divulge information that may help you take them down."


    "And, why would we want to take them down?" Flavia''s voice had been cold and neutral so far, but now a hint of surprise was evident.


    "I am not sure if you have realized it yet, but they will never be able to fulfill your contract. They are on the brink of bankruptcy." Eli had prepared this pitch well in advance. However they had imagined the circumstances of the meeting to be vastly different.


    "Bankruptcy? Why?"


    "Uh¡­ may I show you something?"


    Eli waited for a response, but none came. There was no motion, no command or communication at all, but suddenly Eli realized the tightness around their hands was no longer present. They tried to rotate their wrist and found that they were now able to.


    Eli unrolled his tablet and activated its projector. As the dim light from the projector illuminated the interior, Flavia was revealed to be standing right in front of them. Her golden eyes gleamed in the dim light. There was something fundamentally unnatural about them. Eli could not help but think of a creature of the wild.


    Turning as little as possible, through the corner of their eyes they eyed the bodyguard. The man had shifted towards the edge, but his posture hadn''t changed. At all. He blinked once. A trickle of sweat threaded its way down Eli''s spine. Pushing down their anxiety, Eli pulled up the latest financial records, the relevant entries already highlighted and cross-correlated in preparation.


    "They have hidden it well." Flavia muttered, scanning through the records.


    After a couple of minutes, she was convinced that what Eli was presenting before her was authentic. "So, what kind of solution did you have in mind for us to recoup our losses?"


    Eli took a deep, steadying breath. Eyes on the prize. "Before that, I¡¯d appreciate it if you could take a look at the schematics we want to have fabricated. A conglomerate as powerful as yours must surely be able to manufacture them at scale. Covertly."


    Flavia was of course intimately familiar with the designs Eli pulled up next. "Are you familiar with the creator of this design?"


    It looked like Norman Ferus''s shadow would continue to follow her wherever she went.


    Eli had hoped to outright deny knowing anything about Nazaar. But now somehow they felt that Flavia would just know if they attempted to lie. They could feel anxiety clawing at their insides, threatening to overtake them. "We are in touch. But he is merely a student. To equip our armada we would need a partner who can manufacture the schematics at scale. Cost-effectively, of course."


    "Armada¡­" Flavia scoffed, "Calling Helicon''s forces even a fleet is a stretch"


    Tilting her head sideways, she continued, "Why am I getting the feeling that in this partnership, Ortimus has too much at stake and too little to lose?"


    With a determined nod, Eli pressed down on the anxiety, forcing it back into the recesses of their mind. "What if I told you that my proposal to recoup your losses would be particularly effective if Ortimus had a partner in crime who wasn¡¯t afraid to get their hands dirty."


    "I am listening."

 Ch 47 - A Fiery Retaliation

    With his dissertation submitted, Norman had a few free weeks before the panel allotted him a date for the final in-person defense. And, interestingly, L had delivered.


    The treatise on Saan mycelia that he was now looking at was humongous. And it was clearly a collection of several works derived from multiple sources. Not surprisingly, a lot of them were authored by the Yaskh scribe Nazaar.


    The Yaskh had incredible memory that they passed on through generations, genetically. So the concept of written communication was something they adopted at a much later stage, only when they established contact with other civilizations. Nazaar was one of the fewest scholars who had transcribed the accomplishments of the Yaskh in a format that was accessible to other races. And he had been prolific. Even after the centuries during which his works had been plundered, ravaged and lost, what remained was massive in terms of both volume and significance.


    The compendium correctly confirmed that the Saan were an evolved race - sentient. The interesting aspect was that the way the Saan were described was very similar to the nightwyrms. They were a hive mind. Was the concept of individuals operating independently a recent phenomenon in the history of the cosmos?


    Norman soon realized that exploring the compendium sequentially was going to be a daunting task due to myriad cross references among the articles that had been written at different points of time, with different audiences in mind. Instead he used an indexer to generate a knowledge graph that presented him with a three dimensional view of the topics that connected all the articles in the treatise.


    The focus areas of a lot of the articles were aspects Norman had expected - including communication, the mycelial contract system and concepts around authority and hierarchy. However there quite a few surprising aspects too which were covered at length by many articles. One was the concept of time.


    Apparently the Saan did not perceive time the same way as  the Yaskh did. The timescales around which they orchestrated their plans were inconceivable to even the Yaskh who lived for centuries. Entire civilizations rose and fell in the time spans that cover even a single stage of their cosmic experiments. Norman could not even begin to fathom what kind of opinions a race that operated that magnitude would form about humans.


    The other area of exploration that surprised Norman was the concept of Ascension. The realm in which the Yaskh and humans lived, had been labeled as the Zeroth realm. In the ages past, the Zeroth realm had been the birthing ground for civilizations. Once the civilizations demonstrated a level of progress, they could ascend to other realms. There was some debate on what qualified a race as ready of Ascension, but the details around them were either sketchy or missing. Norman knew for a fact that the Yaskh had Ascended, and not been eradicated. So it was likely they chose not to reveal the specifics. It was also unclear who enforced the criteria for Ascension. But there were hints that the Saan were at least involved in the process.


    The articles that were relatively closer to the present era indicated that humanity was apparently the first of the civilizations that had stayed in the Zeroth realm for so long. And the God king was apparently the primary reason.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The details were not entirely unclear but there had been some discontentment around this between the Saan and the God King, and that disagreement had been millions of years in the making. Apparently even though human lives were inconsequentially ephemeral in the scheme of the Saan''s plans, the God King''s rise had impacted at least some of them in a meaningful manner.


    After hours of poring over the documents, Norman was in equal parts baffled and surprised. While this had definitely been a real step forward towards making sense of the galactic power balance, it had also left him many more open questions than he had started with.


    Suddenly one of the news subscriptions he had configured, alerted him of a high severity event. The notification was linked to a news footage of a refinery being set on fire. Norman recognized the compound Kyrothratix, which the refinery was responsible for manufacturing, immediately. It was a critical part of all mainstream processes for manufacturing Zythramine.


    Norman had actually explored the architecture of this refinery, owned by Emerald Crust, when he was trying to manufacture Zythramine. However, the refinery, as it had been depicted in the articles Norman had studied, was vastly different from the monstrous silhouette bathed in an eerie glow of orange and red that the news footage presented. With a few gestures, Norman panned the three dimensional footage around. It was indeed the same structure, but the numerous explosions that had torn apart the compound had transformed it into an unrecognizable desolate landscape.


    Gaping, Norman wound back the footage to an earlier point in time. The recording had captured the demolition as it unfolded over the span of an hour.


    As the footage moved forward, three separate explosions ripped apart the silence of the night. The dark cloudy sky was illuminated by the fiery dance of the inferno, casting long, grotesque shadows that twisted and contorted across the massive compound as people screamed and fled.


    The once calm waters of the nearby bay, churned and frothed with the heat, reflecting the apocalyptic scene like a mirror to the horrified onlookers. He saw the colossal complex of steel and machinery transform into a ravenous inferno, its heart consumed by the relentless flames.


    The cacophony of sounds filled the air - the hissing and roaring of the flames, the deafening cracks and booms of the explosions, and the shrill wails of sirens in the distance.


    In the far north, the silhouettes of emergency responders could be seen, the lights from their voyagers cutting through the darkness, casting beams of hope against the backdrop of destruction. But their efforts were in vain as the flames seemed to taunt them, growing stronger and more relentless with each passing moment.


    Norman exited the exploration mode, and the camera panned out, revealing the vast expanse of the burning refinery, its once-pristine structures reduced to twisted, molten ruins. The flames seemed to consume everything in their path, an unstoppable force of nature that left the onlookers powerless in its wake.


    The journalist''s voice, steady and calm, narrated the unfolding tragedy, his words a stark contrast to the chaos around him. "This is a developing story, and we will bring you updates as more information becomes available. The cause of the fire is currently unknown, but emergency services are on the scene and working to contain the situation."


    As the journalist continued his report, the scene around him was a testament to the raw, untamed power of destruction. The once-thriving refinery, a symbol of industry and progress, now lay in ruins, a grim reminder of the fragile balance between human creation and the elements.


    Within minutes, he received a meeting invite from Rothford. ¡°Discussion on plans for Zythramine production¡±


    Norman didn¡¯t have a shred of doubt that the two events were linked.

 Ch 48 - A taste of bureaucracy

    Cassius was living through a nightmare. As happened often these days, he had gone to bed late after spending his evening in the company of wine and smoke. Late in the night he received a notification of a fire alert in their Kyrothratix manufacturing facility.


    By the time Cassius reached the facility, the entire two acre warehouse had been burned down to the ground. His eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears, darted between the flames and the faces of the emergency responders, who worked tirelessly to contain the damage. Their efforts, though valiant, seemed futile in the face of the all-consuming fire.


    "What... What happened? How could this have happened?" he asked, the words barely coherent through the choking cloud of smoke that filled the air. The assistants who had accompanied him gaped in astonishment at the sprawling smoldering ruins in front of them.


    The lead investigator from the Protectorate was the first one to break the silence. Offering a handkerchief for the tears that threatened to spill from the man''s eyes, she offered, "Sir, we''re still investigating the cause of the fire. But we''ll do everything in our power to help you through this," she assured him, her voice filled with sympathy and concern.


    Cassius''s shoulders slumped, and he leaned against a nearby wall, his world crumbling around him. They had already been struggling to get their finances under control. But this spectacle of destruction of his father''s life''s work completely eliminated any possibility of Emerald Crust ever recovering. He could only stand and watch as the last of the flames consumed the refinery that was a critical step of their manufacturing pipeline.


    The eight hours of discussions and exploration that followed, only led up to the conclusion that the entire infrastructure that had been worth millions of sols just a day before, had withered to dust with practically nothing that remained salvageable. None of the analysts who investigated the remains had anything promising to report.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    After this devastating ordeal, Cassius hadn''t thought that anything could be a more frustrating experience. But he was proven wrong by the fat bureaucrat now sitting in front of him.


    ¡°What do you mean our insurance claim is ineligible?¡± He barked at the rotund man, whose attention seemed fixed on a burger, a mountain of decadence occupying the plate in front of him.


    This man, Horace, was the designated representative of Schadensabwehr Versicherung, the insurance processing company their family had relied on for generations. And his face was a portrait of unabashed gluttony.


    "We sent you an email three days back, seeking some specific clarifications about the safety processes. Since we did not receive the said clarifications, we would have to decline from further processing your claims at this point."


    Even while he spoke, his eyes kept darting back to the plate where a stack of six patties, a mountain of melted cheese, a mound of crispy bacon, and a lake of creamy mayo were nestled between two oversized buns.


    "This is ridiculous." Cassius exploded, as he recalled this request. "Those clarifications would have taken us several weeks worth of work. We were planning to take them up in Q4. Nowhere in your mail did it say that it may result in suspension of claim processing in the meanwhile."


    "Of course it did. You should see the footnote on Appendix XIV." Horace had already given in to the temptation. A small trail of cheese dripped from the corner of his lip onto his gray suit, its fabric stretched tight against his bulging waistline.


    "This is pure fraud. You should be shut down for this." Cassius slammed his fist on the desk.


    "Please Sir, stay calm. I am just doing my job." Horace wiped his lips with a kerchief that looked like it should have been tossed into the laundry pile a decade ago. "If you have any complaints, I am sure our legal team will be happy to assist you further. Our grievance redressal system is very efficient."


    He picked up the burger again and took the next bite, eyes closing as he savored the taste.

 Ch 49 - A disheartening retrospection

    Later in the night, Flavia received a voucher of two million sol from Bernhard I. J., owner of Schadensabwehr Versicherung conglomerate.


    The voucher was accompanied by a virtual thank-you note. The note read, ¡°Dear Ms. Flavia. Thank you so much for sharing your valuable insights. It was a pleasure doing business with you.¡±


    Not coincidentally, this sum covered all of Ortimus¡¯s past and future losses from the low grade shipments.


    It should have felt like a win, but it didn¡¯t. Eli¡¯s assessment was solid, as was his plan. They had recouped all their losses.


    But the glimpses of the refinery burning were etched in her mind.


    She stood on the balcony of the thousand story Ortimus tower that overlooked the city of Haveskon. She had often come to this place as a child, when she needed some peace of mind. She had always been ruthless, always been ambitious, but deep down she had always thought the recipients of her cruelty had deserved it. Was it still the case though?


    The vast landscape of the metropolis with its myriad skyscrapers glowing under the night sky sprawled beyond her. But her mind kept flashing back to the scene of the smoldering refinery, a sense of deep regret and loss gnawing within. The once-proud structures, now reduced to twisted, molten ruins, bore testament to the devastating consequences of her actions. She had planned the attack with meticulous precision, believing it to be a necessary evil, but as she had watched the inferno consume the refinery, she couldn''t help but feel a growing sense of unease. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The incompetence of bureaucrats and executives who had risen to positions of power through networking and family wealth had always frustrated her. She had known Emerald Crust to be the same - yet another bastion of old wealth, slowly crumbling without a steady hand to guide it forward. She had reasoned that she had only accelerated the inevitable. But to see the flames engulf the construction that had once been a technological marvel had triggered something within her.


    She had wanted to be at the helm of Ortimus to take the company to unprecedented heights. Yes, she cared about profit, about power, but she also wanted to build value. For her family. For her people. For humanity. She aspired for a world where the truly worthy could rise. But if this cycle of destruction continued, she wondered what would be left behind.


    Her heart weighed heavily with the knowledge that innocent lives had been upended by her actions. Families had been torn apart, livelihoods destroyed, and the community left to pick up the pieces. Her mind raced with thoughts of the suffering she had caused, and the realization that her actions had likely only served to fuel a longer chain of revenge and retaliations.


    Perhaps she could achieve her goals in a different way.


    An alien feeling of deep contempt and disappointment bubbled up from within.

 Ch 50 - An unexpected encounter

    It had been seven years since Counselor Leptimus had been to the Illustrious Torus. But now as his spacecraft zoomed in closer to the large circular launchpad, and the glistening metallic megastructure of the Academy loomed in front of him, he recollected the first time he had arrived at the Academy.


    The enrollment in the Illustrious Academy had been the single biggest pivotal point in his life. He had come from a modest background. His father had held a clerical position in a bank. During his tenure, as part of the galactic consolidation, all financial institutions had been assimilated under the umbrella of the organization that eventually became the Magisterium. Thankfully, he had survived the numerous rounds of layoffs that had followed, and they were never left wanting for essentials, yet neither their wealth nor their social standing had been enviable by any standards.


    Decades later, he had retired from the same institution as his father, only their designations had differed by three hundred and seventy-four levels. When his father had retired, five of his close friends had come together and offered him token gifts. When Leptimus had retired, it had been a lavish ceremony attended by five hundred plus people.


    And the glorious institution in front of him was responsible for the difference.


    "Never ceases to amaze you, does it?"


    Leptimus turned towards the source of the voice. "No, it never does," he smiled at the lanky young person who approached him. There was a hint of intelligence in those wide brown eyes, but the wide carefree smile and tangle of hair on their head clearly marked them as someone who was quite early in their journey into the elite society of Irvania.


    Their starry eyes were glued to the hull of the torus, shining bright in the afternoon sunlight. In their excited gaze, Leptimus saw the young student he had been decades ago.


    "You excited about your upcoming dissertation?" He asked.


    "Partly. Also, nervous. Can¡¯t help double-checking and triple-checking the calculations."


    "Of course. Any mistake can mean the difference between a glowing grade and disqualification."


    Leptimus assumed that they were a student of the academy, and Eli did nothing to correct him.


    Truth was, Eli had wanted to get into the Academy. That had been their dream - to infiltrate the Illustrious Torus with Kiri. And they had studied hard for five years. But one mistake in their calculations in the entrance exam had squandered their dreams. Had changed the path of their life.


    They had missed a small error in the first stage of a ten-step workflow. The skew it had introduced was too small to get noticed in the first few phases, but because the derived result was used in an exponentiation at a later stage, it introduced a drastic deviation in the final outcome. Eli had frantically searched why the results were way out of bounds after seeing the final result. They worked their way backwards from the last stage. Before they could reach the initial steps, cross verifying every calculation in between, they had run out of time. Kiri had gotten in, Eli had not. And now they didn¡¯t know if their childhood crush was even alive.


    They had led dangerous lives. They knew that when they had signed up for the Helicon insurgency. They were aware that their lives would be fraught with danger. But in the years they had spent in the camp, isolated in their quarters, studying for the insanely difficult entrance exams day in and day out, they had developed a close bond. They had wondered if, alongside their shared dream for justice for Helicon, they could carve out a slice of happiness for themselves. That was a dream Eli still believed in. And if to get to that dream they would need to clear their path through treachery, deceit or gunfire - they didn¡¯t care.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The wearable they had strapped around their wrist glowed faintly. The device had managed to capture the elderly gentleman¡¯s soul signature. It had been a close call. The device Eli had originally built to capture soul signatures had been too bulky and too noticeable to sneak into the academy. Their original plan had been to sell the design to a Kaiyaathian Vizier and use the money to fabricate something more refined. But that plan had backfired.


    Apparently, while they were trying out the device in a covert mission, some random prisoner had managed to get hold of it and escaped, while also assassinating the highest leader of their religious order. The fallout from the chaos had been so great that the Vizier Eli had been in touch with had been imprisoned, his authority revoked and all his property confiscated.


    Cutting their losses, Eli had purged the fake identity they had been using so as to not get embroiled into a conspiracy against the Kaiyaathian crown. That was another motive for them to venture into the Illustrious Torus. The Kaiyaathian elite force - the Fangshahat, would not dare venture into the most secure academic establishment of Irvania.


    But that still left them without a means to enter the institution themselves. Their previous designs were effective, but could not easily be camouflaged. But then, they had gotten lucky with Flavia. The deal they had brokered with her enabled them to fabricate a sleeker device which could be masked as a standard issue wearable.


    By the time the passenger craft docked onto the Academy¡¯s landing station, a sophisticated intercepting software running in their device had established an MITM (Man-in-the-middle) proxy, linking itself with Leptimus¡¯s own device, inheriting its security context and subverting its communications.


    Concluding the casual exchange, Eli followed behind the elderly man, completely unaware of his status. Once Leptimus passed through the automated security checks, Eli closely stepped after him. With their hack tricking the sensors into ignoring Eli¡¯s own soul signature completely, and tagging their device as an extension of the one that Leptimus carried, they had no trouble getting in.


    Once out into the wide elliptical pad, Eli kept their gaze steady and followed the crowd through the connecting tunnel.


    The landing pad led to a large connecting plaza that served as a junction point. The wide area was enveloped in a large transparent dome, a seamless composition of transparent triangular tiles that glimmered in the late afternoon light. As the commuters and travelers wandered beneath it, their reflections shimmered like ghostly apparitions on its surface.


    The plaza led to a platform, beyond which was the tubeline through which the famed levitating train of the Illustrious Torus continuously orbited the planet.


    Though Eli had no love for the Irvanian administration, it was hard for even them to not be awed by the elegance of the technological marvel that the Illustrious Torus was. In Naasdal camps, their people had had to conserve rations for years on end. The commanders of the rebel groups had endlessly hammered out the details of the sacrifices that their people had to endure to make it possible for them to even be eligible for an attempt at the entrance exams.


    Eli had to put in every ounce of effort they could muster to prevent themselves from gaping at the surroundings. Forcing themselves to appear as disinterested and bored as the other passengers, they blended in with the crowd and boarded the train. Once the train gates closed behind him, and slowly the magnetically levitated vehicle picked up momentum, they allowed themselves a brief smile. They were the second of Helicon to get into the Illustrious torus.


    People often believed that to achieve great results, you had to come up with grand innovations backed by colossal plans. But often a long chain of small tricks was just as effective.