The air inside Barnaby’s shack did not just smell like stale ale and old parchment today. It smelled like a thunderstorm that had been trapped in a bottle for too long.
The cabin was located on the jagged and salt-crusted edge of the Rust-Seas. It was a rickety lean-to made of driftwood and salvaged mana-plating. Outside, the orange-tinted waves crashed against the cliffs with a rhythmic and metallic roar.
The sound acted as a natural white noise that scrambled any listening devices the Crescent Council might have planted to spy on them.
David Silver stood in the center of the room, or rather, he hovered three inches above the floorboards. After his training at the Shattered Spire, his body felt unnervingly light.
His relationship with the ground had become more of a polite suggestion than a law of nature. He could feel the gravity vectors pushing and pulling around him, but they no longer controlled his movements.
"Relatable humor, David," he whispered while watching a stray dust mote drift past his nose. "You’ve spent your whole life wanting to stand on your own two feet, and now that you finally can, you’ve decided you’re too good for the floor. If my father saw me now, he’d think I was a very expensive kite that lost its string."
— [Infinite Regeneration System] —
[Host Information]
↳ Name: David Silver
↳ Life-form: Human / Engine-Bearer
↳ Disability: Pain Nullification
[System Ability]
↳: Infinite Regeneration
↳: Gravity Inversion (Active)
↳: Reality Resonance (Sync: 1.52%)
[System Note: Your ’Gravity Inversion’ is currently drawing 4.2 mana points per minute. I suggest you land. Unless you are trying to impress the dust motes. They seem very moved by your performance.]
"I am just practicing," David muttered.
He allowed his boots to settle back onto the creaky wood with a soft thud. He felt the weight of the world return, but it was no longer a burden. He looked around the small shack. It was filled with piles of junk and empty bottles, but David knew better now.
Old Man Barnaby was not at his usual table. He was standing by the single and salt-streaked window. He was staring out at the horizon where the sky met the rusted water. He was not nursing a flask today.
His hands were clasped behind his back and his posture was as straight and sharp as a Tier 8 executioner’s blade. The Drunken Master veil was completely gone. It was replaced by a cold and ancient aura that made the very air in the shack vibrate with a low-frequency hum.
"The Imperial Games are not a tournament, David," Barnaby said.
His voice was no longer a wheeze. It was a deep and resonant baritone that filled the room like a physical presence. "They are a countdown. And the Greyjoys are not just ambitious nobles looking for a higher rank. They are the heralds of the Unspoken. They are the heralds of a nightmare."
David walked toward the table and felt the Phoenix Pulse in his chest reacting to the tension. "The Unspoken? That sounds like a secret society that is trying too hard to be edgy. Who are they really?"
Barnaby turned around and his azure eyes burned with a clarity that was almost painful to look at. "They are the entities that existed before the Universal Engine was built.
They are the Old Gods of the Void. They were pushed back into the rifts nine hundred years ago and locked behind the very gates the Engine powers. But the Engine is failing, David.
The gears are rusting and the fuel is leaking. The Unspoken have found a way to knock on the door and they want to come back inside."
Barnaby slammed a hand onto the wooden table. BAM! A shimmering and blue mana-map erupted from the surface. It was not a map of the city, but of the Academy’s Great Arena.
Beneath the marble stands and the dueling circles, a complex network of black and jagged lines was pulsing with a sickly purple light. It looked like a parasite clinging to the heart of the school.
"A summoning circle," David whispered. His Observation skill identified the geometry instantly. "But it is huge. It covers the entire campus. This is not for a single monster."
"It is a World-Anchor," Barnaby corrected him. "Liora Greyjoy is not just a Necromancer. She is a Priestess of the Void-Cult.
They have been building this circle for twenty years while hiding the runes under the guise of defensive wards and power conduits.
The Council was too blind to see it. And tomorrow, during the final match of the Imperial Games, they intend to light the fuse."
David looked at the map and his mind raced through the possibilities. "The Dragon-Vein Injection. Sterling. He is the key, isn’t he?"
"Exactly," Barnaby nodded. "Sterling is not the champion they want to present to the Emperor. He is the sacrifice. The Void-Rot I sensed in him is not a byproduct of the dragon blood. It is the catalyst.
When Sterling reaches the peak of his power in the arena, when the Sun-Cores are at maximum output and the eyes of the Empire are on him, Liora will trigger the corruption. Sterling’s soul will be used as a bridge to pull the first of the Unspoken through the rift. He will be vaporized to make a doorway."
David felt a cold and jagged spike of anger. He did not like Sterling. The boy was a bully and a narcissist. He had spent years making David’s life a living hell.
But to be used as a biological battery by your own parents was a different level of cruelty. To be hollowed out and turned into a doorway for a nightmare was a fate worse than death.
"That is horrific," David said. "Even for people like them. Does Sterling have any idea what is happening to him?"
"He thinks he is becoming a god," Barnaby said. A flash of pity crossed his face for the boy. "He thinks the pain in his veins is just his body ascending to a higher state. He has no idea he is just a pig being fattened for the slaughter. He is a puppet with his strings being pulled by his own mother."
Barnaby stepped closer. His gaze locked onto David’s golden-violet eyes. "This is why the Aeon Catalyst chose you, David. It was not because you were a lucky loser who tripped into power.
It is because the Catalyst is the only thing in this dimension that can rewrite the circle. You are the only one who can change the script."
"Rewrite it?" David asked. "I can’t even cast a fireball without glassing a mountain. How am I supposed to rewrite a world-tier summoning circle? I don’t have a manual for this."
[System Note: Barnaby is referring to the ’Reality Editing’ sub-routine. Current Access: 0.15%. It is enough to change a few variables if you are precise.]
"The Catalyst is a fragment of the Architect’s Will," Barnaby explained. His voice was growing urgent. "When the Unspoken try to push through, they have to use the laws of our world to manifest. But you have a different set of rules.
You can change those laws. You can tell the circle that its Gate leads to a closed loop. You can tell the Void-Rot that it is actually a healing agent. You can overclock the reality of the summoning until the Engine itself rejects the intruders. You can be the glitch in their machine."
David looked at his hands. He felt the Phoenix Pulse and the Gravity Inversion humming in his veins. He was a Tier 1 Novice, but he was carrying the tools of a Creator. It was a terrifying responsibility.
"But if I do that," David said. "The Order of Solace and Rachel’s people will see me. They will see the Vessel actively editing reality. I will be exposed."
"Yes," Barnaby said. His expression was grim and serious. "The moment you touch the circle’s code, you will be a beacon of Void-energy visible from the Moon. The High Inquisitor will come for you.
The Emperor’s Guard will come for you. You will be the most wanted man in history before the summoning is even finished. You will have no place to hide."
"Relatable humor, David," he whispered. A shaky grin spread across his face. "You wanted a quiet life as a noble, and now your only options are let the world end or become the most famous criminal in existence. My social anxiety is really going to love the attention."
[System Note: I have already begun drafting your ’Wanted’ poster. I have suggested a more flattering angle for your chin. First impressions are everything when you are an international fugitive.]
"Shut up, System."
Suddenly, the door to the shack creaked open. David’s Flash-Step instincts kicked in instantly. He was across the room in a blur of grey. His hand was held out and he was ready to unleash a Hydro-Cutter of compressed air.
"Wait! It is me!" a voice cried out.
Rachel stood in the doorway. Her silver hair was windswept and her grey Watcher’s uniform was dusty from travel. She looked exhausted and her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp and clear.
She was a master of infiltration and had navigated the dangerous cliffs to get here. She was not looking for a Vessel to kill today. She was looking for an ally.
"Rachel?" David lowered his hand and his mana settled. "I thought you were forging reports for the Inquisitor to keep him busy."
"I was," Rachel said.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She looked at Barnaby and her eyes widened as she sensed the Tier 8 aura he was no longer bothering to hide. She realized she was in the presence of a legend.
"But the Inquisitor is not waiting for my reports anymore. John found the Static residue in the arena. He knows the duel with Sterling was a fraud. He is calling for a Soul-Probe of every student who participated in the Sifting. He wants to find the anomaly."
David’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. A Soul-Probe was the end of his secret. If they looked into his core with a Tier 7 probe, they would not just find a Vessel. They would find the Engine itself. They would find the Catalyst.
"When is this happening?" David asked.
"Tomorrow morning. Right before the Games begin," Rachel said.
She walked over to the table and her gaze lingered on the blue mana-map. She saw the World-Anchor and her face turned even paler. "But that is not the worst of it. David, Liora knows you are alive.
She knows the Death-Gaze did not kill you. I heard her talking to the Count in the Imperial Wing. They are moving the sacrifice forward. They do not care if the circle is perfect anymore. They are going to force the gate open as soon as Sterling enters the arena. They are desperate."
Barnaby cursed and the sound was sharp and metallic. "They are panicking. If they force the gate open, the backlash will erase Aethelgard. They will turn the entire city into a Void-Crater just to get a single foot through the door. They will kill hundreds of thousands of people."
David looked from Barnaby to Rachel. He saw the world falling apart around him. He saw a school in darkness and a rival being turned into a bomb. He saw a secret society closing the net around his neck. He was just a boy with a 100,000x multiplier, but in this room, he was the only one who could stop the clock.
"Then we do not wait for tomorrow," David said.
His voice was cold and resonant. "If Liora wants to use Sterling as a fuse, I am going to go into the arena tonight. I am going to find the runes under the floor. And I am going to edit them until she can’t even light a candle, let alone a world-anchor. I am going to break her circle."
"The arena is guarded by Tier 6 Sentinels," Rachel warned him.
She stepped closer and her expression was full of worry for him. She was a capable Watcher, but she knew the risks. "And the Inquisitor has Truth-Seeker eyes active twenty-four hours a day. It is a suicide mission."
"I have Ghost-Hand mastery, Rachel," David said.
His golden-violet eyes flashed with a predatory light. "I’ve spent fifty virtual years learning how to pick locks I can’t even see. And I have a Tier 5 Void-Stalker who can move through the shadows better than any assassin. We are the perfect team for a heist."
Grim let out a low and supportive purr from the corner of the shack. The beast’s obsidian fur shimmered with anticipation. He was ready for the hunt.
Barnaby looked at David and a slow and proud smile touched his lips. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small and circular gear made of brass and starlight. It was a fragment of the Grand Archive’s core.
It hummed with a divine energy. "If you are going to rewrite a World-Anchor, you are going to need a pen. This will act as a buffer. It will hide your mana-fluctuations from the Inquisitor’s eyes for a few minutes. Use them wisely."
David took the gear and felt its warmth through his palm. It felt like a piece of the universe. "A few minutes is all I need. I’ve practiced reading at a hundred thousand times speed, Barnaby. I can read a summoning circle in the time it takes to blink. I will be in and out before they know I was there."
David looked at Rachel. "Can you get me in? Without the Watchers noticing?"
Rachel nodded with fierce determination. "I know the blind spots in the Great Eye’s rotation. I can get you to the center of the arena without tripping an alarm. But once you start editing the runes, you are on your own, David. I can’t hide the flare once it starts."
"I am never on my own," David said.
He looked at Grim and then at the blue interface humming in his mind. "I have the Engine. And it is time I started using it for more than just surviving. It is time I started acting like the Architect’s Apprentice."
He walked toward the door and his steps were no longer heavy. His presence was no longer Static. He was a force of nature.
"Barnaby," David stopped at the threshold. "If this goes wrong and the crater happens, get my parents out of the city. Promise me you will keep them safe."
Barnaby did not drink. He just nodded and his azure eyes were solemn and serious. "On my soul, David. They won’t even feel the wind. I will get them to safety."
"Good," David said. He looked at Rachel. "Let’s go. I’ve got a world-ending cult to plagiarize, and I’d hate to be late for the opening act. It is going to be a long night."
As they disappeared into the salty mist of the Rust-Seas, David Silver felt the Phoenix Pulse and the Gravity Inversion settling into a lethal and focused harmony. The Static was over and the Edit was beginning.
By sunrise, the Greyjoys were going to find out that when you try to rewrite reality, you’d better make sure you are the only one with the pen. The Imperial Games were about to become the most important night in history.
David Silver was the one who was going to decide which gods got to walk through the door. He walked with confidence and his face was pale about the risk but his eyes were concealing a secret!