The Dead-Zone was exactly what the name promised. It was a stretch of wasteland where the very concept of life seemed to have been edited out of the script.
There were spatial rifts so dense they looked like stitches on the skin of the world. Every few seconds the air would groan. It was a sound like a ship’s hull twisting under the pressure of the deep sea.
"Halt!" Gerrard shouted.
His voice was barely audible over the roar of the rifts. "We cannot take the Groks through this! The spatial interference will shred their nervous systems. We find cover in the Echo Alcoves and wait for the rift-tide to recede. Move it before we all get turned into atoms!"
The mercenaries scrambled to move the wagons into a series of deep caves. These were natural alcoves carved into the side of the obsidian cliffs. They were lined with a strange damp moss that hummed with a low-frequency anti-magic field. This was the only reason the stone had not been vaporized by the rifts centuries ago.
David Silver climbed down from his wagon and his legs felt like they were made of lead. Grim, the Void-Stalker, prowled beside him. His obsidian fur was bristling as he sniffed the distorted air. The soul-link between them was vibrating with a frantic and rhythmic warning. The Gate was close.
Even if one were to ignore the spatial noise entering their ears, every mercenary in the cave was paying attention to Rose for two simple reasons, Boobs!
She was exhausted from the trek and she was currently trying to adjust her leather breastplate. They were not just the ordinary ones, they were the heavy ones. Even she could not carry them all by herself after a day of fighting Glass-Wings.
She had to rest them on a supply crate she was standing behind to relieve herself of the weight. David watched as her heavy chest moved along with her breathing.The wood of the crate groaned under the pressure.
David turned away. He had other things to worry about.
"Kid," Barnaby wheezed.
He stumbled off the driver’s bench. He looked worse than usual. His grey hair was covered with dust and his wool coat was scorched. He looked at the mercenaries huddling around a glowing mana-lamp.
Then he looked at David. "Walk with me. The air in here smells like damp socks and cowardice. I know a spot where the static is not so loud. It is much better for the ears."
David hesitated. But the Observation skill was pinging with a golden intensity. The system was not warning him of a predator. It was screaming for him to pay attention.
"Fine," David muttered. "But if you start singing those drinking songs again, I am leaving you to the rifts. I have had enough of your voice for one day."
"No songs, Ghosty," Barnaby said. His voice was unusually steady. "I think we are past the point of singing. Follow me."
They walked deeper into the cave system. They moved away from the flickering lights of the caravan. Grim followed silently and his violet eyes were glowing like embers in the dark. The further they went, the more the cave changed.
The damp moss vanished. Smooth white stone walls took its place. They looked like they had been made by a machine rather than carved by hand.
Barnaby stopped in front of a wall that looked like a dead end. He reached out and grabbed the air itself.
With a flick of his wrist, the old man’s entire demeanor shifted! The bleary and bloodshot eyes cleared instantly. They turned into twin pools of deep and swirling azure light.
The smell of cheap rot-gut ale did not just fade. It was burned away by a sudden and violent flare of pure high-tier mana. The air in the tunnel grew heavy with authority.
"Relatable humor, David," the old man said. His voice no longer rattled. It was deep and resonant. It carried the authority of a mountain. "I have been drinking mana-suppressing tonics for twenty years just to keep the Great Eye from finding me. Do you have any idea how much those things taste like battery acid? It is a terrible way to live."
David stepped back. His hand ignited with the purple-black light of the Toxin Sovereign. He was ready for a fight. "Who are you? You are not just a drunk driver."
[Warning! Tier 8 Arch-Mage Signature Confirmed.]
[Status: Friendly... for now.]
"My name is Barnaby Thorne," the old man said. He ignored David’s defensive stance. He pressed his palm against the white stone. "I was the Royal Arch-Mage of the Silver-Sun Empire before your father was even a squire. I am the one who failed to stop the First Dimensional War. And I am the one who has been waiting for you to show up. You took your sweet time."
The wall did not just open. It dissolved into a curtain of golden light.
"Welcome, David Silver," Barnaby said. He stepped through the curtain. "To the Grand Archive. It is the only place in this dimension where the truth is not censored by the Council. It is the real history of our world."
David followed him into a chamber that defied every law of space he knew. It was a cathedral of light. It was miles wide and miles high. It was filled with floating crystalline spheres that hummed with stored knowledge. In the center of the room sat a massive and rotating structure made of golden gears and starlight. It was a 1:1 replica of the Universal Engine.
"The Universal Engine," David whispered. His mind was reeling. It was the same structure he saw in his system’s loading screens.
"It is not magic, David," Barnaby said. He walked toward the rotating gears. "Magic is just the exhaust. Magic is what happens when the Engine leaks. What you have in your head, the Aeon Catalyst, is not a system designed to help you level up like a character in a book. It is a fragment of the Engine’s core. It is a manual override for the laws of physics. You are the mechanic now."
David looked at his hands. He could see the motes of light dancing on his skin. "The multiplier... the 100,000x thing. It is not just making me strong?"
"It is overclocking reality," Barnaby turned to face him. His azure eyes were burning with intensity. "Think of the world as a machine. Usually, it runs at a set speed. A spark is a spark. A step is a step.
But you? You have the ability to force the machine to run a hundred thousand times faster for a single moment. You are not learning a skill in sixty seconds.
You are literally forcing time and space to condense those sixty seconds of effort into a single microsecond. You are cheating the clock."
"The Chronal Debt," David murmured. He remembered the system’s previous warning.
"Exactly," Barnaby nodded. "Reality has a budget. When you use the multiplier, you are stealing energy from the future of this world to power your present. It is why the rifts are growing.
Every time you overclock a spell, the fabric of the dimension thins. You are not just a Vessel, David. You are a reality-warper who does not know how to balance his checkbook. You are spending money the world does not have."
David slumped against a floating crystal shelf. The weight of the reveal was more crushing than any gravity artifact. He was not a hero. He was not even a lucky loser. He was a cosmic thief. He felt like he had just found out he was the one causing the end of the world.
"So the Gate in the Maw," David looked up. "What is it? Why am I here?"
"It is the Primary Drive," Barnaby said. He gestured to the massive gear-heart above them. "The Universal Engine is failing. It has been breaking down since the First War.
The Council thinks they can harvest Vessels to keep it running, but they are just putting a bandage on a decapitation. The Engine needs a Bearer. Someone who can stabilize the overclocking.
Someone who can bridge the gap between our world and the Void without letting the Void eat us. You were chosen because you have the right hardware."
Barnaby stepped closer. His Tier 8 aura created a shimmering halo in the room. "I have been hiding here and driving wagons for Madame Joyce because I was waiting for the Catalyst to choose a host. I thought it would be a High Prince. I thought it would be a Sage with years of experience. I did not expect a kid with a Static Core and a bad attitude."
"I have a great attitude," David snapped. A bit of relatable humor surfaced through his shock. "I am the most pleasant world-ending threat you will ever meet. Ask Grim. He thinks I am delightful."
The Void-Stalker let out a low and supportive chuff.
"The Static Core was not a mistake, David," Barnaby continued. His expression softened. "It was the only way your soul could survive the Catalyst. A normal mana core would have been vaporized the moment the multiplier triggered.
You needed a core that did not move. You needed a core that could act as a heat-sink for the reality-warping energy you channel. You are not clogged, David. You are reinforced. You are a bunker for the power."
David looked at the rotating golden gears. He felt the Aeon Catalyst in his mind hum in response. There was a sense of deep and ancient recognition. The system was not just a tool. It was a homecoming. He felt like he finally knew why he existed.
"What do I do now?" David asked. "Rachel says the Inquisitors are coming. The Order of Solace wants me dead. And Sterling’s father is probably hiring half the assassins in the empire as we speak. I am a very popular target."
"You do what you have been doing," Barnaby said.
The azure light in his eyes faded back to a bleary grey. He pulled a flask from his coat. But this time, he did not drink. He poured a drop of the clear liquid onto the floor. A shimmering map of the Maw appeared. "You reach the Iron Lung Docks. You secure the shipment. And you get strong. Faster than anyone thought possible. You need to be ready for the storm."
Barnaby looked at him. The drunk mask was settling back onto his face. "The Pale Hand is coming for you, David. Sterling’s father, Count Greyjoy, does not play by the Academy’s rules.
He has hired Tier 6 assassins to intercept the caravan before you reach the city. They do not care about Static Cores or noble titles. They just want your head on a plate."
David gripped the Void Heart in his pocket. The 100,000x multiplier was ready. He felt the Toxin Sovereign blood surging in his veins. He was not afraid of assassins.
"Let them come," David rasped. "I have got ten years of gravity-chamber training to catch up on. I think I can fit it into my lunch break. They will be in for a surprise."
Barnaby chuckled. It was a sound that was half wheeze and half roar. "That is the spirit, kid. Just remember. The Engine does not give anything for free. Eventually, the bill comes due. But until then, make sure you are the one holding the check. Do not let them take it from you."
The Grand Archive began to fade. The golden light was retracting into the white stone. David found himself back in the damp and mossy cave. The sounds of the mercenaries’ snoring and the Groks’ heavy breathing returned. It was like he had never left.
Barnaby was already slumped back against a crate. His bleary eyes were half-closed and the flask was clutched to his chest. He looked like nothing more than a broken old driver again. But as David sat back down on the tailboard of the wagon, he saw the old man give him a tiny wink.
"System," David thought. His gaze was fixed on the dark tunnel leading out of the alcove. "If we are overclocking reality, I want to see a new menu. I want to see the Engine stats."
— [Infinite Regeneration System] —
[Host Information]
↳ Name: David Silver
↳ Life-form: Human / Engine-Bearer
↳ Disability: Pain Nullification
[System Ability]
↳: Infinite Regeneration
↳: Reality Resonance (Sync: 0.12%)
[Biological State]
↳ Cell Activation : 15 / 100 %
↳ Lunar Talent: Nill
[System Resources]
↳ Pain Points: 150
[Note: You are no longer just a Vessel. You are the Architect’s Apprentice. Do not break the world yet. I have not finished the backup.]
David let out a long and slow breath. He was a thief, a reality-warper, and a reinforced heat-sink for a failing universe. He had Tier 6 assassins on his tail and a Tier 8 Arch-Mage as his coach. It was a very strange life.
"Relatable humor, David," he whispered. A dark smile touched his lips. "You really should have stuck to peat moss. It is much safer."
As the first light of a fractured dawn began to bleed into the cave, David Silver stood up. The Wailing Maw was waiting. The Pale Hand was waiting. But David was no longer running.
He was the one with the multiplier. He was about to show the world that when you overclock reality, the Static is the only thing that stays standing. He was ready for the fight!