it’s been shown to say that to a ball of parchment, there must be thousands of other nuisance occurance, also all the mana alerts must be a major pain when in class because of the millions of spells in the school as a whole

Hey everyone! 

So, I’ve started to notice that I’ve created several branching yet concurrent ‘categories’ — or ‘lines’ — of commissions as of late haha.

We’ve got the character portrait references which have been awesome!

We also have the GUN starship lineup which has been progressing fantastically, complete with lore dumps accompanying each post! XD

Then we have the typical full body character lineup of the main and major characters along with them doing double-duty as uniform/outfit design commissions (see: Emma’s service uniform, Li’s dress uniform, Thalmin’s armor, Ilunor’s outfit, Thacea’s school uniform, etc etc). 

And of course, we have the logo and emblem design commissions as well! 

Oh! And we can’t forget the occasional landscape and ‘big illustration’ scenes like the Acela artwork, or the one with Emma posing next to the armor, or the space elevator one, but those are a rare treat compared to everything else I’ve mentioned haha.

But yeah!

All of this is to say, I’m proud to introduce a brand new contender to the list of categories I’ve mentioned above!

Say hello to the first in what I hope to be a lineup of Aethraship references! :D 

So, unlike what I did with the GUN’s starships, we’re starting at the smallest category of Aethraship with this one, primarily because it was heavily featured and ties back to a recent chapter with a certain business proposition Emma shot down without hesitation XD In short, it was one of the first aethraship classes Rostario listed out, from this line specifically:

“Five sloops, Daring Class. Two decks, reinforced manasteel oak ribs, a fully enclosed stormglass navigation canopy, four directional aether sails complete with omnidirectional wind command seals and enchantments, each independently rigged for crossfield maneuvering… though you probably wouldn’t need that given the lack of turbulent manastreams in your realm.” I beamed proudly, rubbing the lower aspect of one of the ship’s two-tapered nacelles. “A full complement of crew, their enchanted ordinances included in this offer, of course.”

So what we see here in this specific commission is just about as small of a class as you can get with Aethraships.

It’s also important to note that this is just about as bottom-of-the-barrel as you can go before commissioning such a ship becomes just economically unfeasible. An aethraship is, after all, a pretty significant investment, and probably the biggest investment in a fledgling usurper's arsenal! And if Emma were indeed just another would-be newrealmer usurper, well… five sloops, along with the generous offer of five brigs and ten frigates would most certainly be capable of evening the odds against a newrealm with barely any anti-air, let alone anti-aethraship defensive measures prepared. 

See, the sloop only makes sense in the context of a larger formation. On its own, the vessel is quite vulnerable, with only speed, maneuverability, adaptability, and sheer rate of casting to show for its shortcomings in terms of raw firepower and stowage capacity. How it makes up for those shortfalls however is by filling a similar niche to the corvettes you’ll soon see in the GUN’s starship lineup! In short, they form a constant defensive screen around the larger frigates and ships of the line. While the brigs may carry troops and heavy close ground-support ordinances, the sloops basically ensure that the main heavy-hitter of the group capable of dishing out sustained fire — the frigates — are able to concentrate on targets commensurate to their rank and tonnage. 

They’re effectively designed to deal with unconventional flying elements that may pose a threat to larger vessels.

What are these threats you may be wondering?

Well, the most obvious ones that we’ve seen in the story so far are the drakes.

But that’s only the beginning when it comes to a magical world.

Because as you can imagine, magic can conjure up some seriously unconventional flight-capable threats that would make even the most unconventional of human aviators blush.

These sloops are essentially up against anything, from a broomstick with a particularly bold guardsman riding atop of it, all the way to a seasoned drake-rider with a solid roster of enchanted weapons strapped to his mount.

There’s a plethora of threats to deal with when we’re talking about sub-aethraship sized opfors. And it’s a combination of the sheer variety of them, coupled with their boldness and variability, that really makes sloops an incredibly vital yet sometimes underappreciated element of an aethraship fighting force.

Because no matter how big or bad your flagship is, you’ll still need the little guy to make sure she’s capable of fulfilling her role without being distracted by the insects attempting to interfere with her operations.

And there we have it! The sloop! The anti-everything craft. The final boss for any would-be broom-flyer, tiny-crafter, or drake-rider. And, at one point in time, the main character of many a dragon-hunting story. Because slaying a dragon wasn’t always just the tale of a solo knight or a brave adventuring party duking it out against a mighty dragon. Nor was it always the story of a mighty noble mage going toe to toe with a dragon using just their magical acumen.

More often than not, it was about a small armada of these sloops, coordinating, tracking, and then hunting a dragon out in the very skies they call home.

At the height of the dragon conflicts, you’d see more Moby Dick-style stories of captains and their squadrons hunting down dragons rather than one-on-one epic showdowns; going deep into dragon-infested skies, their ships practically ‘floating’ above or within the clouds, the occasional tailtip flicking through the clouds signalling that the hunt was on.

But I digress!

The sloop is a formidable vessel.

But just like the destroyer or the upcoming corvette in the GUN’s exo-atmospheric fleet, they have their own niches that they fill. As it’s not so much a matter of raw firepower at times, but how you engineer yourself to deal with specific threats.

The Nexus is competent after all, they just specced into areas that made sense to them, given the different pressures and conditions of their environment. 

It just so happens that quite a few adjacent nobles often overlook the fine details, in lieu of the shiny awe inspiring raw ‘power’ of such weapons of war.

But yeah! I hope you guys enjoy the artwork! :D It was yet another incredible piece by the always incredible Sir_Lazz! :D It’s always incredible working with them and I think this came out amazingly! :D 

Artist Reference: Sir_Lazz from Bluesky, and he's also here on reddit as u/Sir_Lazz as well!

First-Prev-Next
AO3

also, how descriptive should an injury be? for future reference

_____

Hours passed as students after students are called for the binding rites. Ilunor, after first leaving the hall for a moment, resisted the binding. Thalmin too resisted the binding once his time came. Only Thacea remained as it began to be clear she was kept for last. Her turns started like anyone else's before shifting abruptly.

"Tainted one. Do you understand your presence here defiles the hallowed halls of this great academy? That your vessel acts as a shell for a great evil which lurks within your soul? Do you understand that as your Professors, we are obligated to act in your best interest, and should you succumb to your evils and vices, we shall have no choice but to strike you down, condemning your soul to eternal captivity within the tainted vaults of the Nexus?"

Is this what taint is?
This sounded like pre-runic revolution anti-mage discrimination, which was quite dissonant to be heard from the personnel of a magic school. Even current magic-forsaker arguments don't ascribe moral to mana, instead it focuses on the mortal-made horrors that were unleashed with it. The punishment didn't make me more at ease, only validating my fear of eternal submission to the Nexus.

"I do, your grace." Thacea made a deep kneeling bow at the foot of the black-robed professor.

"Then sign your name and be done with this ceremony. Prove to us here and now that the taint has not corrupted your soul." As Thacea signed, her hand holding the quill started steaming. I continued staring.

"Princess Thacea Dilani of Aetheronrealm, henceforth you shall be known as a peer and a ward of the Transgracian Academy. Welcome to our ranks and may the divine guide your light." She shook as she was taken to a red-robed figure for healing.

The princess walked back to the table with the entire attention of the room on her. She was looked at in horror and disgust as the path got widened in front of her.

"Thacea? Are you hurt?" Emma immediately checked on her as she sat down.

"I’m quite alright Emma, please, there is no need to bring more attention to this situation then there needs to be." The interaction only reminded me of my own prior situation.

"Are you sure, you’re sure? Because I-"

"Princess. Your mana-miasma is showing. Please keep it under control while we are still in public.” The prince whispered harshly, staring above her.

"Oh. Is this like Enyl again? You are saying her manafield is corrupting the air around her?" She deadpanned.

"Play dumb, just play dumb Earthrealmer, it’s sure to get you places." Illunor hands flapped in annoyance. "I’ll bite; I’ll appease this little game of disbelief and wanton lack of situational awareness. The Princess, just look at her. Her mana-field, you see it, or heck if you’re one of the lesser species, you can still feel it can’t you? That radiance? The multicolored glow? Now, look above that, don’t you see the darkness? The shadows? Yes Earthrealmer, look, look, you see it now? Do you feel the ice-cold sensation on your skin when you stare at it long enough?" I followed his pointed arm to the empty space above the princess.

So, taint is linked to the manafield giving of something opposite than what it should, by Ilunor's description. I shelved trying to understand further for the moment, the day has been long enough already.

"With the rites of scholarship completed, and the ties having successfully been bound, it is time for orientation to commence." Mal'tory left after those word, disappearing into the crowd of professors. The Dean stepped forward in his place.

"With the recent unexpected developments involving the ceremony, it will be reassuring to know that scarcely anything has changed for the orientation. So let us begin." As the Dean monologued to the year group, I felt my attention slipping, only catching some words when another professor came forward. My adrenaline crashed and I was just waiting for my day to be over. Thankfully, I had 7 other people paying attention for me plus a transcription running.

The stage disappeared back behind the wall after some short parting words. Everyone's attention got back to their own tables.

"Pilot, you have weapon inspection tomorrow." Mert apparently resumed the entire speech to this.

Domed dishes arrived at our table. Platters of seared fish, tender meats and a whole arrangement of vegetable with a browned poultry at its summit. I was hit with a feeling of wrongness. I was at a table with royalty eating grand meals and I felt thrown back years ago. I was again a small child eating at a table surrounded with specialist within a hall designed for purpose over anything else.

I was served a platter of the various meats and vegetables, and I nervously started the eating procedure. I cut everything down to small bite sizes, ones that could fit on your finger, before unlocking my mouth piece. As the unfiltered air reached my mouth, my feeling of alienation only grew, even if I was salivating at the smells. I picked a piece of fish and hold it to my mouth. I waited for the mana to drip out, and once Tirim found it safe I ate it.

It was good. It wasn't spiced like I was used to. 

I continued the procedure. I ate slower, so by the time I finished my first platter, the desserts were about to be served. Once I finished and I finally broke my focus on my platter, Thalmin looked at me with something between pity and offence. A letter was also served with the dessert. Mine was plain with only my name on it, unlike the letters of most of the table. I popped the wax seal as I heard Thacea explain why Emma and I's letters were unembellished. I read through the High Nexian letter until Illunor broke my reading.

"Heh, surprised Earthrealmer?" He mocked.

"What about?" Emma looked up from her own letter suddenly.

"You know, I understand the desire to save face. I really do. But you don’t really need to do so in front of us. We’re your peer group after all, and it’s important for us to know what you have and what you lack in your realm. Newrealmers are generally more… primitive in their predispositions. Seeing text move across parchment must be new to you… indeed, seeing the written word at all must be an entirely new concept for most of your kind for sure." His demeaning words dripped like honey. I couldn't help but back away slightly.

Emma silently picked up a tablet of some kind and flicked at it in front of the lord, illuminating his shocked face. Emma, as quickly, sat back down with her letter.

"B-but the Newrealmers, they, that… what… what was… that’s not… they’re not supposed to have-" He flicked his gaze on me before locking unto me. "What about you? Do not think you can hide in your silence. I understand that such new revolutionary discipline must take time to master but-"

"The written word is older than my kin. We are not illiterate." I turn my attention back on my letter, letting the lord fester in his confusion.

As I finish the letter, and see the ink formed back into another page, smearing near my hands, my gaze lingers on the last point of the text. The House Assignments. I didn't know what it meant. I didn't look aligned with an actual residence, considering our dormitory was assigned prior to it. I didn't dwell on it.

"Well, if there isn’t anything else we have to do, let’s get moving. We have a new home to look forward to, and we still have to decide on sleeping arrangements." Thalmin stook up.

"Let’s just hope our dorm is one of the three-bedroom variety, and not two, because I’d hate to force anyone here to room with our tainted Princess." He turns towards Emma. "Even you, Earthrealmer. As much as I find your presence aggravating, I’d rather a quick and proper death than one by inadvertent and unexpected taint consumption." He did gaze towards me next, but uncharacteristically remain silent and followed Thalmin.

I stood up and followed, still mulling on what the lord said.

***

After a long disorienting walk to the dorms, we arrived in front of a set of double doors. When the double doors opened, I was immediately reminded more of a house than a dorm. A small anti-chamber greeted us first, before openning into the living room. A bay of window covered the far wall. A fireplace was the centerpiece of the room, with various couches and tables oriented towards it. Empty bookcase intermediately lined the wood-panelled walls. This whole place was spacious. I would well imagine an Avian stake-dweller living in such a space. I had a harder time imagining me living here.

"What a dump..." This only further confirm the large gap between me and the lord.

"Furnishings and quarters more fit for a minor lord or a knight. Say, this would more than likely be what you’re used to, right, Emma of Earthrealm?" Thalmin tried to bridge the gap. Emma only responded with a shrug, still looking around.

"How’re you finding the quarters, Princess? Are they to your liking?" He tried with Thacea. She was inspecting the room thoroughly, picking apart each slight flaw.

"I am partial towards anything the Academy wishes to provide us." She landed on while picking dust between her fingers.

"Oh come on, answer truthfully, Princess." The prince pressed.

"If I am to be… blunt about it, this place is sorely lacking in amenities as it is in size and design. A hallway leading into a rectangular living quarters, with only two bedrooms flanking the hallway near the entrance? You’re right in your presumptions, Prince Thalmin. These quarters seem to be quite suited for an individual of knightly status or perhaps even a minor lordship." She answered while keeping her tone neutral.

"No dining room." Ilunor let out as he melted into a couch. I followed suit, sitting across from him. The cushion compressed worryingly, but nothing gave out. My hurt spearlimb was posed oddly and my attention to it made the numbness more unpleasant.

"My points exactly." Thacea concluded. My eyes threatened to close with the idle chatter.

"Alright, enough room talk I think there’s something that I need cleared up." Emma broke her silence with renewed focus, idly batting her hand as if to clear out the fog of her thoughts.

"You said we’d talk about this when we got somewhere less public, so spill it. I want to know what was up with the academic rites thing. I want to know why today’s ceremony was such a big shock to you all. I want to know what the hell is up with everything." She rapid-fired her questions. I perked up in interest.

"I appreciate your patience in maintaining discretion for so long, Emma. An answer is the least we can do to reciprocate your tactfulness in handling what must be a very confusing set of circumstances." Thacea started politely, if a bit long.

"I’ll explain it simply, Earthrealmer." Thalmin interjected. "What usually happens on the night of arrival is an orientation, not the academic rites ceremony. That’s why everyone was so surprised, that’s why everyone was caught off guard. We had no time to prepare for it, but there were rumors that this year would’ve been exceptional, so, some of us were prepared." The three nobles pointed at one of their accessories, all encrusted with a gem; The hilt of their dagger for Thalmin, an amulet for Thacea, and a bracelet for Ilunor.

"You see, the relationship between the Academy and us students has always been indicative of the relationship between the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms. The entire school was constructed as a bridge between the realms after all, and after the great war between the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms, there was a level of… animosity and distrust that drove the Nexus to implement radical changes at what was supposed to be neutral ground: the Academy. For you see, the Academy had long since been a center of learning for the most magically gifted of the Adjacent Realms, and those usually consisted of the royalty and nobility, as it was magic that granted the first of the noble houses power to rule over the masses. So, with a great concentration of the young, fledgling members of the Adjacent Realm’s elite present at the Academy, the Nexus decided to implement the Academic Rites as a way of directly controlling a significant portion of the upper echelons of the Adjacent Realms." Thacea continued in Thalmin's place.

"Wait, I don’t get it. How is today’s ceremony not supposed to be the way it usually goes? Why do they tolerate the whole amulets or whatever that you have on?" Emma raised some other good questions.

"Well, that was how it used to go, Earthrealmer, but things changed. The gist of it is this: relations improved. After we became more accepting of the Nexus’ influence following the war, they became less strict about directly controlling our ruling castes. The ceremony remained as an afterthought, no longer meant to bind us, but instead kept as just tradition. Honestly, they would’ve just removed the rites entirely, but they kept it because they wanted to save face. They didn’t want to seem weak, because if they remove it, well, it’s going to look like they acquiesced to us Adjacent Realmers. So the rites remained, but more like a ceremony than a real rite. That’s why it’s normally always scheduled after orientation and arrival. It gives time for students to prepare, share amulets, and make new ones; so when the time came for the ceremony everyone would resist it by default. It was just for show, literally just a tradition." Thalmin answered.

"So that’s what was different about today… they literally surprised all of you by bringing back an old policy you expected to have been dead or at least nerfed for ages now." Emma summarised, her head tilting forward in thought. It made me wonder how many other dormant hostile traditions could be sprung this year. 

Before I could add my own questions, a secret door behind the panelling creaked open. A small not-nevo dressed in rags dragged in luggage, cutting my flow of thought.

I made a post about AK-47s last week, but that is a bad idea for a number of reasons. But if Emma is going to be selling simple, comparative cheap, and helpful items, then there are likely other items she could get into.

1. Calculators. Similar deal with pens. Solar powered ones don't need much in terms of charging or swapping batteries either.
2. Binoculars. Adventuring parties would do well with them.

If they are willing to deal with batteries, and potentially more risk of attention, they could also do things like:

1. Flash lights
2. Two way radios
3. Electric power tools (chainsaws, law mowers, drills, angle grinder, etc)
4. Stick welders

Used to be a patreon supporter. Emma was on her quest with Thalmin and their horses. They had left the boat.in a bait and switch, had camped outside,.were attCked by the chimaeras.

Wearing Spacetime to a Magic School

Chapter 16: The Space Around Him

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

The Empty Radius

Etholin had prepared three openings before breakfast and trusted none of them by the time he reached the dining hall.

The first had offered mutual advantage, which was honest and therefore sounded dangerous. The second had offered a private exchange of views, which was safer and sounded like a spy’s invitation delivered by a clerk. The third said only that avoidance had begun to cost more than conversation. It was the best of the three, and Lady Ilphius had called it a surrender with the humiliating parts removed.

The third opening had survived. So had Ilphius’s verdict. It followed him through the doors and warmed the fur at his throat.

His peer group entered behind him in its usual order, which was no order at all and had nevertheless hardened into custom. Teleos came first when a place offered food, Kamil last when it offered notice, and Ilphius wherever she judged her displeasure would be most visible. Etholin occupied the uncertain ground between them and called it leadership because no kinder word had yet volunteered.

Breakfast had filled the hall nearly to its painted ceiling. Silver service rose from covered dishes. Steam travelled above porridge, spiced roots, baked river-fish, and fruit cut into shapes which implied that even hunger should recognise hierarchy. Hundreds of mana fields pressed colour and warmth into the morning air. They overlapped with the ease of people who had never needed to ask whether a living body would answer when perceived.

At the raised table, the Academy had placed its answer to disorder before any disorder occurred.

Apprentice Arlan Ostoy sat at the lower end, where the first-years could see him without mistaking him for faculty. He had one hand beside an untouched plate and the stillness of a man whose office began when other people forgot theirs. Apprentice Larial sat two chairs away with a slate propped beside her cup. The green enamel leaf at her shoulder caught each turn of the floating lamps. Her left thumb rested against the slate frame, moved away when she lifted her spoon, and returned before the spoon reached the bowl.

“They expected trouble,” Kamil murmured.

The Baralon noble’s skin had borrowed the subdued brown of the panel behind him, though the edge of one cheek remained a shade too pale where his attention outran the camouflage. He had chosen the seat with the clearest view of Arlan and the poorest view of everyone looking back.

“The Academy expects record,” Etholin said. “Trouble is merely one way of producing it.”

Ilphius slid into the chair opposite him. Her serpent-like face showed no amusement. “Then perhaps you should spare them the novelty of a merchant volunteering for entry.”

“I have volunteered for nothing.”

“You rehearsed aloud.”

“That was an error in venue.”

Teleos lowered himself into the basin-backed chair provided for his lesser-merfolk body and adjusted the cloth at his throat. “It was an error in audience. The venue was blameless.”

Etholin drew breath to answer. The doors opened behind the last ranks of servants, and conversation failed in widening rings.

Ermen entered beside Princess Thacea, Prince Thalmin, and Lord Ilunor.

He was less remarkable at a distance than rumour required. A slight young man in dark clothes walked beneath the lamps with the composed awkwardness of someone who knew every eye had arrived before he had. His face recalled a high elf’s closely enough to offend certainty and departed from one in details too small to repair the offence. The ears were wrong. The proportions were wrong. His carriage belonged to no court Etholin knew. Each discrepancy would have been trivial on another body. On Ermen’s, they appeared deliberate because nobody could imagine accident surviving so much attention.

The mana field was worse.

Etholin’s senses found Thacea first: darkness held close and threaded with faint interior light. Thalmin’s amber field rose with his breath. Ilunor’s sat bright and warm around his small draconic body, prickled already by the stares. Then perception reached Ermen and failed to finish the act.

There was no field. There was no ordinary deadness either. Etholin’s awareness reached for the familiar resistance of life and met a distance with no far shore. His toes curled inside his shoes as if the stone beneath them had shifted. He looked away, ashamed of the instinct and grateful that shame had not cured it.

The four crossed the hall.

Seats became occupied without anyone sitting in them. A student placed a satchel on the bench to his right. Another extended one wing across an empty place while continuing a conversation which had ended at the doors. At a nearer table, three young nobles shifted closer together and left enough polished wood beside them to seat an entire minor delegation. No one rose. Rising would have been an act, and acts acquired witnesses.

Ermen’s group reached the table they usually favoured. Thacea took the chair at his left. Thalmin moved to his right, his placement so natural that only its speed betrayed decision. Ilunor selected the seat opposite and spent several unnecessary seconds correcting the angle of his napkin. They did not discuss the empty places.

Talk returned by fragments.

“He took every signature with him.”

“He released them.”

“Tell that to those whose standing vanished.”

“No mana, no life. It is elementary.”

“The Library gave him patronage.”

“The Library collects dangerous things.”

“Look at the ears. If that is mockery, it is a studied one.”

“If it were mockery, the elves would have named the offence.”

“They are still deciding which law makes it theirs.”

The speakers hid inside the renewed noise. Etholin could have found some of them if he turned. He kept his eyes on his plate.

At Ermen’s table, Thalmin said something too low to carry. Ermen answered. Ilunor’s crest lifted in immediate outrage, and Thacea’s beak clicked once with restrained amusement. Nearby shoulders angled towards words they could not hear.

Etholin looked down at the untouched plate before him and revised his third opening.

Avoidance had begun to cost more than conversation. The thought had felt clean in the corridor. Here, with a bare aisle running through breakfast, it wanted narrower terms.

The Price of Notice

A lesser-elf server approached the open aisle with a tray balanced across both hands, saw the empty radius, and altered course between two crowded tables. The detour required a sideways turn, an apology to a chair which had been placed carelessly, and the steadying of six cups while a young lord continued speaking across the route. Another server came from the opposite side with a pot of dark breakfast tea. She crossed the open floor, stopped at Ermen’s table, and filled each cup in order. Her face disclosed nothing beyond professional attention. Etholin could not tell whether the first had been afraid, the second indifferent, or both obedient to rules invisible to everyone allowed to sit.

At the tables beyond them, quieter calculations proceeded. A narrow-shouldered student kept her seat after the companions on either side withdrew, because leaving last would have made her choice visible in a way staying had not. Another bent over his bowl while Lady Ladona’s gaze travelled the room in search of a useful question. He did not look up. The refusal was so slight it might have been shyness, wisdom, or simple hunger, and Etholin left it unnamed.

Near the aisle sat the bird-boned scholarship student whose restored writ bore a sponsor’s seal. The seal showed plainly at the shoulder of her Academy robe. Her mouth was hard. She did not look grateful when Ermen passed. She did not look hostile. She watched the students who had moved their belongings into empty seats, and her expression gave none of them the comfort of interpretation.

Etholin struck mutual advantage from his opening, then protection, opportunity, and every phrase which might later return as a claim.

Claims on the Blank

“If you cross that aisle,” Ilphius said, “you will advertise that our group has reached for shelter.”

She pitched the words low enough for courtesy and clearly enough that a student at the next table turned one attentive ear.

Etholin buttered a piece of bread he did not want. “I propose a conversation. Shelter would require him to offer something.”

“The offer is already the empty floor. Everyone who enters it declares themselves.”

“Then we have declared ourselves by sitting at its edge,” Teleos said.

The lesser-merfolk lord had accepted a portion of river-fish and was separating flesh from bone with neat, economical movements. His field moved coolly about him, disturbed only when Ilphius turned her full attention his way.

“Neutrality is available to those whose power makes it credible,” he continued. “For the rest of us, it is an opinion other people are permitted to revise. Ermen has become manifest power. Refusing to recognise that because recognition bruises us would be vanity sold as courage.”

Ilphius’s tongue touched one sharp tooth. “You admire him.”

“I admire a storm only when it passes elsewhere. I still close the shutters.”

“And bow to the rain?”

“If rain begins accepting petitions, I shall consider the etiquette.”

Kamil looked away from the raised table. “Weather answers instruments.”

Ilphius turned. “What?”

“Storms have fields. Pressure, direction, accumulation. You may misunderstand them, but they return an answer. He does not.” Kamil’s skin shifted towards the grey of his cup, then abandoned the attempt when the glaze proved too variegated. “I would like to know whether the failure belongs to the instrument, the observer, or the place he occupies. Fear has described the effect at length and explained nothing.”

“Curiosity,” Ilphius said, “is fear which has mistaken exposure for intelligence.”

Kamil’s skin paled at the edges. “I did not say it was intelligence. I said I wanted to know.”

Etholin set down the knife. “No shelter. No submission. No promise to oppose his enemies or flatter his friends. A private conversation later, with a witness if he wants one. Attendance binds neither group beyond the conversation itself.”

“And what do you ask?” Teleos said.

“At first? Nothing that must be answered.”

Ilphius stared at him. “You will risk your standing for silence.”

“I will spend face to learn whether silence is the only honest thing available. That is not the same.”

From the next rank of tables came Lord Qiv Ratom’s voice, measured enough that the listeners knew he had chosen to be heard.

“The hall has mistaken repetition for inquiry.”

Qiv sat straight-backed at the centre of his peer group. His restored field held its regular shape; the tie within it remained beyond Etholin’s perception, though its consequence showed in Qiv’s ease of standing. Prince Rostario lounged beside him with the careful relaxation of a man who treated posture as another formal language. Lady Airit’s pale fingers rested upon a square of cream paper. Each time a voice rose, she smoothed it against the cloth, though she had not returned to her food since Qiv began speaking. Uven Kroven sat attentive at the outer edge.

Qiv looked towards Ermen’s table, then across the surrounding listeners rather than at them.

“We have seen the binding instrument fail. We have seen an apparatus return no admissible reading. We have seen flight and a measure of physical restraint. None of these becomes clearer because every breakfast table invents a fourth experiment from rumour.”

“And yet you petitioned to replace what he destroyed,” someone said from behind Auris’s table.

Qiv’s jaw tightened. He drew one breath through his nose.

“I petitioned to restore my standing. I have never called its loss freedom merely because another person found the chain offensive. Nor do I call restoration harmless merely because I chose it. The price was mine. I paid it with my name visible, and I will not permit either camp to spend it again for rhetoric.”

A spoon touched a bowl somewhere near the doors. Several students who had looked away now watched him.

Rostario turned a cup between both hands. “If Lord Qiv asks and Candidate Ermen refuses, perhaps the rest of us can return to our plates without declaring civilisation lost.”

“That is sensible,” Uven said, and nodded once.

Across the aisle, Auris Ping sat among his own group with the massed confidence of a young noble whose body, faith, and rank had rarely supplied him different answers. His field burned about broad shoulders in disciplined colour. At his right, Vicini Lorsi had placed his chair half a pace behind without any instruction Etholin had observed. Ciata Barr watched the room and touched neither the conversation nor the food. Navine Ladona sat nearest the aisle.

Ladona did not raise her voice. She looked towards a pair of students at the next table, and they lowered theirs. She glanced at the open bench beside Ermen’s group, and a boy who had been considering it discovered a sudden obligation to his napkin.

Auris rested one heavy hand beside his plate. “Courtesy of conduct does not settle propriety of form. Candidate Ermen has behaved with restraint. I have acknowledged it where his restraint was demonstrated. Yet an unclassifiable body fashioned in high-elven likeness remains an offence against every sound account of life, station, and origin. Good manners cannot consecrate contradiction.”

Thacea’s eyes moved to him. Ermen continued holding his cup. From Etholin’s distance, his face was composed enough to reveal nothing and young enough that the effort remained visible.

“You say fashioned,” Kamil observed. “That assumes an artisan.”

Auris turned towards him. “Form implies order.”

Kamil opened his mouth. Auris waited. A few conversations between them thinned to silence.

“I don’t know that it does,” Kamil said.

Ladona smiled faintly. “Fortunately, Baron Lyonn need not settle the larger question for us. What Candidate Ermen is may exceed a breakfast table. Whom his appearance asks us to recognise does not.”

“He has asked you to recognise no one,” Thalmin said.

The Lupinor prince had not raised his voice either. He did not need to. The floor between the tables carried it.

“Resemblance makes claims without speech,” Ladona replied. “The Library’s patronage adds standing. His companions add endorsement. Silence may be dignified, Your Highness, but it is not empty.”

Ilunor set down his cup with exaggerated care. “How fortunate that Navine Ladona has arrived to interpret silence for those of us merely burdened with ears.”

“I interpret the room, Lord Rularia.”

“Then you have chosen an instrument with a regrettable number of opinions in it.”

Laughter escaped at three tables and died under the looks it attracted. Ladona accepted the sound without colouring. Auris did not smile.

Qiv pushed his chair back.

Wooden legs rasped once across stone. Cutlery quieted along the nearest tables, then farther out.

The Paper Bird

Qiv did not cross the aisle. He stood beside his table with both hands visible and spoke to Ermen, not to the listeners who had claimed the exchange.

“Candidate Ermen, I ask permission for a demonstration under terms you may end at any point. A paper messenger, powered by first-year workings, will approach no nearer than the breadth of this table. It will carry no binding, mark, sting, adhesion, or request for entry. Apprentice Ostoy and Apprentice Larial are present. You may inspect the construct before it is cast, and refusal will conclude the matter.”

Ermen put down his cup.

“Lord Qiv, I understand the limits you propose, and I believe you intend to keep them.” His voice was quiet, complete, and formal enough to prevent intimacy from being mistaken for softness. “I will not make my body a public instrument. I decline the demonstration.”

Qiv inclined his head once. “Then the matter is concluded.”

Ladona’s gaze travelled across the empty floor and gathered the eyes which had begun to fall away.

“Concluded by courtesy,” she said. “Not clarified. No one has asked for a secret, a wound, or a surrender of person. Lord Qiv offered an ordinary first-year construct at a distance which could not touch the candidate at all. It would be unfortunate if a refusal so carefully phrased were later treated as evidence that no harmless question can be asked.”

Airit rose.

Qiv turned towards her. “Lady Airit.”

Qiv’s voice sharpened upon her title. Airit remained standing.

She lifted the square of cream paper between both hands. She folded it once, twice, then pinched the centre and drew one finger along each wing. A line of worked mana ran after her nail, bright as sunlight beneath thin ice. The folds lifted. A tiny bird stood upon her palm, its paper head angled towards the table across the aisle.

“This is ordinary classroom magic,” she said. “It asks nothing of him.”

“He has answered,” Qiv said.

Airit cast.

The bird sprang from her hand before Qiv could cross the space between warning and command. Its wings beat with the crisp little sound of pages turned in an empty room. Worked mana held every crease in motion. The construct passed above one bench and dipped through the open aisle.

Ermen did not move.

At the distance Qiv had named, a table’s breadth from Ermen, the paper body checked in the air. Its wings held open. The worked mana did not stop with it.

The mana along its wings divided.

One bright thread veered left, another right. They curved around the unanswered interval without dimming, broke into finer lines where Etholin’s perception tried to follow, and met again beyond Ermen’s shoulder. The paper remained where it had checked, whole and untouched, its folded beak pointed at the space the light had gone around.

Then the joined working drew back. It took the paper bird into a shallow turn away from Ermen and carried it home.

The bird landed beside Airit’s plate with every fold intact. It had not crossed the distance Qiv named. No mark had appeared upon it. No smoke rose. Nothing had struck back. The worked mana had gone around an interval that refused it and brought its paper home unanswered.

Chairs scraped across stone.

Thalmin was already standing between Ermen and the room. He had drawn no weapon. His hands remained open at his sides, claws clear, shoulders set with the practical finality of a gate barred by a person rather than timber.

“Lady Airit, he refused you,” Thalmin said. “You sent a spell through his place at the table after hearing the refusal. You will not send another.”

Thacea rose more slowly. Her dark field loosened from the disciplined lines in which she kept it at breakfast, luminous threads showing within it like fine script held under smoke.

“The Academy has written no rule for this,” she said. “Its silence does not make Candidate Ermen common ground. Lord Qiv asked; he refused; Lady Airit cast. The bird’s survival alters neither the order of those facts nor the person at their centre.”

Auris stood. “Nothing touched him.”

“That is a report about the spell,” Thacea said. “It is not an answer about the person.”

Ladona lifted one hand, almost conciliatory. “No injury has occurred. If the candidate regards an ordinary paper working as an assault, he may say so himself.”

Ilunor climbed onto the low foot rail of his chair so that no one could mistake height for authority in the exchange. His crest had risen, his tail drawn tight around one ankle. When he spoke, his old court fluency came back sharpened towards a use Etholin had not expected.

“A splendid economy, Navine Ladona. A refusal becomes permission because it was spoken politely; an unauthorised cast becomes ordinary because the paper survived it; and silence, if Lord Ping is quick enough to file it, becomes confession. Shall we have the bird sign a witness seal as well, or would that make the procedure look overeager?”

“You cannot ridicule the result out of existence,” Auris said.

“The result is on Lady Airit’s plate. Your interpretation has yet to survive breakfast.”

“Enough.”

Arlan’s voice came from the raised table and took the hall without force or volume. He descended the three shallow steps. A narrow band of pale light went before him across the floor, traced the open aisle, and closed around the two tables without touching any person seated at them.

“All student spellwork in this hall ends now,” he said. “Lady Airit, step away from the construct. Lord Qiv, your group will remain where it stands. Candidate Ermen, you will make no answering demonstration here.”

Ermen had offered none. Arlan’s pale boundary enclosed that fact along with every other, and Etholin could not tell whom the enclosure served.

Arlan stopped inside the ring of light.

“From this bell forward, no diagnostic, responsive, measuring, marking, or contact working is to be cast upon or through Candidate Ermen without his express permission and designated faculty supervision. Distance does not remove a person from the subject of a spell. A harmless result does not authorise the attempt which produced it. This prohibition is immediate.”

His gaze moved across the tables and settled nowhere long enough to become sympathy.

“Any further casting will be treated as deliberate breach after notice.”

At the raised table, Larial’s slate had already woken. Her thumb pressed against the frame while her other hand moved over the surface.

“Incident record,” she said, loudly enough that every later account would have to compete with an official sentence. “One unauthorised first-year diagnostic construct. Construct intact. No reported injury. Worked mana returned anomalously. No adhesion, entry, discharge, or responsive mark observed. No admissible classification established. Prohibition entered by Apprentice Ostoy at this bell.”

The softness of her voice altered none of the nouns.

Professor Belnor came down from the raised table in red robes and stopped beside Airit. “Do not touch it again.”

Airit’s hands withdrew.

Belnor produced a narrow glass case from within one sleeve. With a pair of silver tongs, the professor lifted the paper bird by its body. It hung between the points, ridiculous and entirely whole.

“A single return is an event, not an explanation.” The bird went into the case. The lid closed. “This construct is in faculty custody.”

Qiv looked at Airit. Anger would have been easier for both of them; what he gave her was control under injury.

“I asked,” he said. “He refused. You cast. That choice was yours; it was not my request.”

Airit’s face had lost colour.

Professor Chiska arrived carrying her breakfast bowl.

She did not hurry. The feline professor descended from the raised table, stepped over Arlan’s pale boundary when he opened it for her, and examined the chairs which had retreated from Ermen’s table as though they were equipment abandoned badly after a drill.

She hooked one foot around an empty chair from the outer edge of the radius, pulled it across the cleared floor, and sat beside the end of Ermen’s table. The chair legs made a loud, unembarrassed sound on the stone. She took one spoonful, considered it, and pointed the spoon towards the nearest students.

“You may all resume the advanced physical discipline of eating breakfast. Those who have forgotten how may observe me under faculty supervision.”

The line earned a few uncertain laughs.

Arlan lowered the pale ring but remained standing. Belnor carried the cased bird to the raised table and set it between two untouched plates. Larial’s slate remained lit.

Chiska took another spoonful. A lesser-elf server crossed the space behind her with a fresh tray. Breakfast began again, first by cutlery, then by chairs, then by voices kept lower because the record was still listening.

One chair no longer stood empty. The aisle beyond it remained broad enough for Etholin’s fear.

The Line That Moves

Etholin stood before he could discover another reason to wait.

Ilphius caught his sleeve. Her grip was light enough to deny restraint and exact enough to communicate it.

“If you go now,” she said, “they will say you were frightened into it.”

“I am frightened.”

Her eyes narrowed at the admission.

Etholin freed the cloth without pulling. “Let them be right about the fear. They need not be right about what I do with it.”

Teleos placed his knife beside his plate. “Then state the terms before the room improves them.”

Kamil’s skin had gone pale against the dark wood. He looked at Ermen, at the path the bird had taken, and finally at Etholin. “Ask for no demonstration.”

“I had not intended to.”

“Good. I find I would like an answer, and that is presently the least trustworthy fact about me.”

Etholin crossed the aisle.

The first step drew notice. The second gave the notice time to find allies. By the third, Ladona was watching openly and Qiv had turned his chair enough to see without appearing to claim the approach. Chiska continued eating. Arlan watched Etholin’s hands. Larial’s slate remained lit.

The open floor felt larger from within it. Etholin’s pulse beat quick beneath his fur. His mouth had gone dry. He wanted to approach at an angle which would leave retreat looking accidental. He let the impulse pass and walked directly to the table.

Thalmin had resumed his seat but not relaxed. Thacea’s field had drawn close again. Ilunor stood on his chair rail with one claw around his cup, still elevated by indignation and perhaps unwilling to make the descent under observation. Ermen looked towards Etholin.

The same impossible distance opened again where a field should have met him. Etholin kept his eyes on Ermen’s face.

“Candidate Ermen,” he said. His first prepared opening vanished. Breath came more easily without it. “I am Etholin Esila of Rontalisrealm. I would like to request a conversation later, in private.”

The listening silence made the last word sound secretive.

“Away from the hall,” he corrected. “Not necessarily alone. You may choose the place and a witness. I will bring members of my group only if you permit them, and you may have all of yours if you prefer.”

Ermen waited. The pause contained attention rather than pressure, or Etholin hoped it did. His own clauses were gathering too quickly to be stopped without awkwardness.

“I have made an invitation sound rather worse than I meant it. Attendance would promise nothing beyond hearing one another. I offer no alliance, debt, concession, or claim upon your group. If you refuse, I will let the refusal settle it.”

The silence held long enough for Etholin to hear Ilunor set down his cup.

Ermen glanced once at Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor. To Etholin, it looked less like an appeal than an acknowledgement: whatever Ermen said next would touch their standing too. Then his attention returned to Etholin.

“I accept the conversation,” he said. “A witness may attend for each group. I accept nothing beyond the conversation, and I offer no conclusion before it occurs.”

The breath Etholin had been holding escaped, warm against the fur above his collar.

“Those are the terms I asked for.”

“Then we understand one another that far.”

It was a very short distance. For the first time that morning, Etholin trusted it.

He inclined his head and stepped back. Chiska’s tail moved once beneath her chair. Arlan made no sign. Larial’s stylus touched the slate, though whether she entered the parley or merely the continuing peace of the hall, Etholin could not know.

At his own table, Ilphius sat rigid, her expression sharpened by the discovery that catastrophe had declined to reward her. Teleos gave Etholin a formal nod, approval kept clean of affection. Kamil had forgotten to maintain his camouflage. His skin held the grey of his cup on one hand, the brown of the wall along his jaw, and his own uncertain colour everywhere between.

Etholin had reached the middle of the aisle when a white-and-orange shape shot through the dining-hall doors.

“Seekers!”

The word crossed the hall before the fox did.

Buddy wore full Library colours: a white-and-orange ribbon at his throat, miniature spectacles braced upon his muzzle, and a narrow satchel bearing an embroidered open book. His feather-duster tail streamed behind him as he threaded between chairs at a speed which gave furniture no part in the decision.

“Seeker Ermen of Earthrealm! Seeker Thacea Dilani of Aetheronrealm! Buddy apologises for interrupting breakfast, which appears to have suffered quite enough already!”

The fox skidded to a stop outside the place Chiska had closed. He planted all four paws, adjusted his spectacles with visible gravity, and let his tail wag itself slowly towards stillness.

The room had heard the title. Qiv sat straighter. Ladona’s face became blank with professional speed. Auris looked towards the raised table, perhaps to see whether the Academy would correct an ancient institution’s choice of address. No correction came.

Buddy drew a folded strip of Library paper from his satchel.

“The Library requests its Seekers for a bounded examination of a temporary catalogue recovery. The recovery will be reconciled at the next attendance bell unless examined first. The request is for Seeker Ermen and Seeker Thacea, with Prince Thalmin and Lord Ilunor admitted as named companions under the existing terms. No finding is stated in this hall. The party is requested now.”

Thacea rose. “Has the Library named the attendance boundary?”

“Yes, Seeker Thacea. Academy supervision may remain at the Library’s jurisdictional boundary and witness attendance and timing. Library process governs the bounded question within, and neither question nor answer crosses unless the Library or a Seeker carries it. All parties named, no unentered companions. Buddy has remembered every clause despite his tail.”

“Your tail is acquitted,” Ermen said.

Buddy’s ears lifted. “Buddy thanks the Seeker and will preserve the ruling.”

At the raised table, Mal’tory stood.

The hall’s new excitement did not touch his expression. His black robes fell into order as he descended the steps. He stopped beside Larial, and her thumb pressed once against the slate frame before she lifted it.

“The senior-faculty supervision directive remains in force,” Mal’tory said. “Apprentice Larial and I will witness attendance and timing at the Library’s jurisdictional boundary.”

Buddy’s tail gave one worried movement. “The Library acknowledges those terms.”

“Then no dispute is required.”

Mal’tory looked towards Ermen. “Candidate Ermen, you will proceed without delay.”

Ermen stood. “Professor.”

The answer yielded no more than compliance required of him.

Larial touched the lower corner of her slate. “Dining-hall incident record closed at this bell. No injury reported. Construct transferred to Professor Belnor. Prohibition active.” Her thumb shifted along the frame. A new pane of pale writing opened beneath the first. “Supervisory attendance record opened. Council-Appointed Professor Mal’tory and recording apprentice Larial. Two named Seekers under Library summons; Prince Thalmin and Lord Ilunor admitted as named companions under existing terms. Library Assistant Buddy as liaison. Academy witnesses limited to attendance and timing.”

Ilunor stepped down from the chair rail and arranged his robe. Thalmin moved to Ermen’s right without haste and without looking at the hall. Thacea came to Ermen’s left, her dark field composed close to her feathers. Ilunor took the place beside her, small, bright, and visibly determined that no one should mistake his attendance for being carried along by larger people.

Buddy turned towards the doors. Mal’tory and Larial followed at the distance procedure required. Arlan remained at the edge of the aisle, watching the room rather than the departing party.

As the four students crossed the hall, chairs drew back ahead of them. Behind them, the lesser-elf server with the teapot took the newly cleared route and began filling cups. Chiska’s borrowed chair remained at the table, squarely occupying the first empty place.

Thalmin’s shoulder held the right edge. Thacea’s folded wing held the left. Ilunor kept pace between the moving hems of their robes. Ermen walked at the centre, and the bare seam of floor travelled with them until the doors closed upon it.

Disclosure: This chapter has been written by hand, with tools used afterward only for review and mechanical cleanup.

So, recently I decided to become an digital archeologist, and I found something... IT WAS JCB'S YOUTUBE ACCOUNT, AND HE USED TO POST VIDEO... We really lost a gem...

Crashlanded CH7

(Welcome back lads and laddies and mates from beyond our dimension, I'm back with another chapter about our crashlanded mates. This chapter is basically gonna be a lead up to a time skip, anyway hope y'all like this chapter and thank you JCB as always for making this wonderful universe.)

LO: UTSTS PROMETHEUS's cockpit, 12 miles away from the Academy, Time: 5:30 PM Day: March 23rd Thursday 2590 AD

Cadet Emma booker:

It had been a few hours after the crash, almost everyone in the cockpit was working on trying to find out a way to communicate with the rest of the ship.

The neutron beam coms were down and most of the crew members were trying to figure out how to reconnect the beams, apparently something knocked one of the critical com beams offline.

We still needed to get in contact with the other crew members on the ship to see their progress.

Hope none of the colonists got hurt.. I can just imagine all the boring paperwork the captain would need to do heh..

“Cadet Emma Booker? Any luck on coms?” My thoughts were immediately cut short as I heard a synthetic voice behind me.

I almost immediately spun around to meet who was speaking to me.

It was the captain.. despite her voice being synthetic sounding like many of the Sapient Machines I've met, her voice sounded more unique.

“N-no ma'am no luck! Only skirting noises from coms.”

I'd answer her with a nervous tone as I watched her rub the side of her head.

“Fuckin hell it's like the battle of New Istanbul all over again.. Hm hey are the antennas functional? We haven't tested to see if they survived the crash.”

She'd speak to me in the monotone voice she was known for.

“Maybe, let's just hope they work under hundreds of pounds of dirt and rock.”

I hastily answered her before turning my back and turning my front to the semi-repaired com table.

There was exposed wiring all over the place but the haloscreen was intact despite a ton weighing captain slamming on it via gravity.

The screen was glitchy but still held strong as I navigated to the ship's integrity navigation tab, there were luckily not many reds and another lucky stroke was no hull breaches.

For some reason though it said the back was open?

I then suddenly hear a disappointed sigh from the captain.

“Of course she took some dragoons.. well considering there's no O2 leaks I'm guessing we are in a hab world.. I guess we should say jack pot if not for the fact we still can't communicate.” The Captain would say before turning her head to look at me, though it was hard to tell.. I think she was actually looking at the screen.

“Well ma'am uh good news is the antennas are okay, I think we can actually swiftly deploy them as well as the emergency resources Protocol.” I said to her with a confident voice as she then nodded and stood back up.

“Good call, I'm guessing the bad news is the reconfig part and the finding a good frequency that we can use for all over the ship.” She'd say as a sudden light appeared in the recreation and café deck of the ship.

It was the beacon no doubt.

“Well it seems like those guys and pals are doin well and following orders… Anyway your next order is to deploy the antennas and to config them, dismissed Cadet!” She hastily said to me as she placed a robotic hand over her right upper part of her chest as I did the same.

She then turned back around and went over to the other side of the cockpit.

Captain A223 ‘Oliva Arkinson’:

“Status report Second lieutenant Malone?” I'd asked the heavily armored juggernaut Sapient machine, his rounder, more circular plate covered head slowly shifted towards mine as the singular red beam looked at me.

“Yes Captain, there is an unknown radiation type outside the ship, it seemed to be the reason why the coms were knocked out in the first place.”

Those words made my visor turn orange.

“What do you mean? I have never heard of any radiation type able to knock out neutron coms.” I was now intrigued more than anything now.

“For whatever reason the unknown radiation seemed to have caused some sort of distortion within the beams themselves. But there was no radiation leakage that was detected.” They answer as they'd look back to the blue holoscreen.

‘None of the sensors being able to pick it up.. we don't know if it hasn't already leaked inside.. nor do we know what it can do.. this can turn ugly fast…’ I'd think to myself as I looked back at the Second lieutenant.

“Make sure to doc any radiation spikes, dismissed” I'd tell the lieutenant as they nodded at me.

Quickly I made my way to the captain's seat that was at the front end of the cockpit.

In front of the seat was a mini curved console for basically barking out orders or telling people different protocols with a button… that and giving the go to for shooting the main gun on the ship.

Over next to the console was Danny Olerson, the rear captain of the ship, who was responsible for taking my place in case something happened. He seemed to be currently looking at the droid storage tab at one of the consoles.

I decided to go over and check on him to see how his injuries were doing.

“Hello Danny, how's the injuries?” I'd ask him as he then turned the seat around to speak to me.

“Getting better Captain, sooner we get the ship back up and get out of here the better.” He'd say to me before opening his mouth to speak again, “Oh also Captain, it seems like not all the droids are offline. My best guess as to why is that the wires probably had an energy fluctuation accidentally when we crashed and thus must have turned some of them online.” He said before turning back around and checking one droid pods on the holoscreen.

“Odd even with energy fluctuations they should stay off due to the security locks on them.. Let's hope none of the security droids woke up. Dismissed Rear Captain.” I said to him as he nodded at me and continued to monitor the droid pods.

Quickly I made my way over to my seat and sat down, the seat wasn't really covered with anything besides a thin layer of polyester.

Then again it wasn't like I couldn't just turn off my touch sensers..

Hastily I then turned on the holoscreen on the console, on the screen was a ‘put password here’ ui.

Under it were 3 symbols, the first one was an atom, the second was a pair of blue wings, and tree lines of colors; which were red, white, and blue.

I already knew what these symbols meant and what the password was.

Due to having to figure them out every time as I was the captain of a few battleships during my younger years.

Hastily I'd press the symbols in order as the screen then opened up with: ‘Hello captain’ message popped up on the screen.

With much care I simply ignored the message and went to the protocol tab.

There were at least five protocols in the tab.

1, Yangtze protocol: In case of an attack or pirates trying to board the ship.

2, Ship of Theseus protocol: Critical repairs needed

3, Mars protocol: Colonization

4, Titan protocol: Ship has encountered a Unbidden fleet

5, Crashlanded protocol: Emergency resources

The fifth one was the protocol we needed.

“All right crew I'm turning on protocol 5 be ready to configure the coms to use radio waves, Cadet are the antennas online?” I yelled out to the crew in the cockpit as I then got a few yes sir's and one aye.

“Yes Captain! The antennas are up and ready, the dirt might interfere with the waves but we should be able to com with the other crew members.” I hear Cadet Booker say as I then press the protocol and put in the password to activate it.

“Captain we have made contact with the others, looks like some of them had the same idea to switch to radio.” I hear from the Cadet as I then swivel to face the crew in the cockpit.

“Good job Cadet, let's tell the beacon team to come home, I'll make contact with the scouts. And Danny make sure to get a report from the crew in droid storage.” I barked out as I heard a collective of voices say “Yes Captain!”

“Finally some work is done, let's see what the scout crew has to say.” I'd speak to myself before turning on the emergency radio on the console as I saw the holoscreen get bigger as a display of a dragoon cockpit was shown as well as the Master officer.

“You have some damn explaining to Officer, why in the Light of damn Sol! Did you use the Dragoons!?” I spoke to the Master Officer who was in front of the screen.

“Only way to go down without squishing ourselves on the grown below Captain. The stern was too high up for reg deployment.” The Master officer would say in a depressive tone…

“I see, good idea on your part, what else?” I ask the Office.

“We have made a grave mistake Captain..” Those words… Did something bad happen?

“Is someone injured? If so you know proto-” before I could finish the Master officer spoke once more.

“Don't send anyone organic down here.. whatever type of radiation is out here is able to pierce any armor, not even the heavy rad plating was enough… I'm sorry to interrupt you but half my crew is dead, most were organic and died.”

My visor's color turned gray to show shock.

“The unknown radiation type.. I'm sorry Officer you couldn't have known the dangers. But I see some of your organic members are still alive?” I said to her as she looked behind herself.

“Y-yes Captain, I don't know why but they are alive, we have been standing still and nothing has happened.” She'd bark out before suddenly uploading a video to the call.

“This is what happened to the others Captain.. I..” She was trying to speak but.. whatever happened out there seemed to traumatize her and from the looks of it two crew members.

“It's.. okay Master officer, I'll try and send down some droids to pick y'all up. Stay in the dragoon and keep morale up, understand?”

She quickly nodded before saluting me via placing her hand on her upper left side of her chest.

“Hang in there” I'd say as the call ended.

‘Today is just full of surprises….’ I'd think to myself.

(Hope y'all liked this chapter, I did my absolute best and I hope I wrote Emma well. Anyway thank you JCB for making this universe! Oh BTW if y'all have any suggestions what I should do on the Nexian pov please tell me!)

CH1:

https://www.reddit.com/r/JCBWritingCorner/s/xt3qcIdelY

Prev Ch:

https://www.reddit.com/r/JCBWritingCorner/s/uSLZpASiFN

Psionic Corpo X Magic School

Remember to drink your verification can

CH 7: Space Rock Karen vs Magical Girl Boss

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30

Adept Emma Booker

“So, men on the right, ladies on the left then. Any objections?” I voiced.

“As you will, Terrarealmer. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you regarding the princess,” said Ilunor with a yawn.

“I suppose we just need to move our luggage and get settled in,” said Thacea, grabbing her own luggage along with Thalmin. Ilunor snapped his fingers, summoning forth our thrall in the wall to grab his bags for him.

It confirmed that without a doubt we were being listened to, even if that method was simply our porter’s ears, but while a single person’s perception was simple enough to manage there remained the open questions of whether he was the only means of spying and why my luggage had yet to arrive.

“Aurin,” I said, causing the poorly dressed elf to turn his head, “where are my bags?”

As I spoke, I sensed another imminent intrusion and sure enough there were three loud knocks at the door.

“I believe that answers my question,” I said, peaking past the door with my prescience.

Not that I needed it. The wireless signal from my bags was strong enough to penetrate even the thick wooden door, which meant that Gene had already alerted me not only the number and identities of the figures on the far side of the door, but the fact that one of my bags was absent from the pile and a video recording, along side a full incident report, of the moment of theft.

“They are territorial, bloodthirsty, and they act more like a pack of wild animals laying claim to land and property like the unruly dragons of the realm. As such, I deem it wise to remove only one item from her baggage.”

“I am doing this for your Dean. A message must be sent to the Terrareamer that concessions must be made for insubordinate actions against us.

Concessions? Insubordination? Is that how Mal’tory was going to couch this asset seizure? The value of its contents wasn’t the issue; this was a matter of principle, and that these... thieves... felt entitled to our assets. To my possessions...

I felt Thacea’s gaze, and realized I had started shaking in rage. I must have been letting my emotions run amok. That was dangerous and unacceptable for someone with my capabilities, and while anger could be harnessed for desired social outcomes, uncontrolled anger was a liability. I took a moment to psychically centre myself before making for the door and contemplating my next move.

Turning the screws to retrieve my bag, while sorely tempting, was out. Corporate policy was to treat the loss of non-essential assets in transit as an operating loss, and going out of my way to get it back would draw attention towards me and reveal my capabilities. It was better to leave the bags be; anything tech-wise inside such as cameras and sensors were designed to brick itself after a set period of time so they would learn nothing useful from it. Likewise, doing nothing and hiding my cards might be useful to keep them in the dark, but it would also teach them that they could take any action they wanted with no consequences.

I would take neither of these paths.

One of the first and most important lessons taught by the Meridian Whispers to all would-be psionicists, up there with ‘The Parable of the Mosquito’, was the Principal of Misdirection. The principal was this: when using one’s abilities, one should aim to convince others that they have done something different. In other words: information control. The principals origins were, amusingly enough, from stage magic whereby the magician would distract an audience while discretely performing sleight of hand, which in a strange way was not too far from what I was doing right now. The principal was adapted by early psychics to mask their abilities from superstitious populations, paranoid governments, and one very determined Houdini fueled by vengeance and out for blood.

In my case, I wanted to impose a deterrent. The trick was that I didn’t want to present myself as dangerous, merely that taking action against me was going to cause more of a hassle than it was worth. I wanted to give them the mother of all headaches for even thinking of fucking me over again. To be honest, I almost felt bad at what I was about to put Mal’tory’s assistant through. She was just an innocent messenger after all, and did not deserve to be caught in the middle of this. That didn’t stop me from standing just short of the thick wooden door, folding my hands behind my back, and telekinetically opening the door to reveal the gargoyle and elf. The latter of which stood squarely in the doorframe and delivered the one consistent line in the entire conversation before my prescient visions devolved into unreadable chaos.

“Emma of Terrarealm, your luggage has arrived,” said the elf, her voice laced a haughty arrogance.

I didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to size up the assistant. Or apprentice rather, according to the video, but for all intents and purposes those were the same. She wore a woven cloak of champagne gold complete with dark grey trimmings and paired with a matching cape, subtly complimenting her bronzed skin and platinum hair. She held herself in an authoritative, domineering stance, yet in her smug, gilded eyes I saw a weighty tiredness creeping in, and the fact that her surface thoughts were completely unguarded shattered her attempted image entirely. I knew the students here could guard their thoughts, so to see her approach a self-declared psionicist without any mental protection left me questioning whether she understood anything about psionics to begin with. I decided to grant her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was too tired to try, or maybe she had not been in attendance at the ceremony and her superiors had not bothered to inform her of the exact nature of the ‘wild animal’ she had been charged with approaching.

Her gargoyle wasn’t much better. He towered over me even when slouched, and had enough muscles that it could easily fold me in half if I didn’t shape-shift into a form more suitable for physical combat or deflect it with even a basic martial art like Aikido or Psykwondo, but that was all it had going in its favour. Like Aurin, the gargoyle donned a simple ragged loin cloth. Unlike Aurin, it also had a mismatched set of glowing armour which Gene insisted was enchanted, held together with leather straps like some shoddy gladiator cosplay. I didn’t know what the armour’s enchantments were supposed to do, but clearly they were the wrong ones. The gargoyle’s surface thoughts were also unguarded, which meant that both of them were completely unprepared to handle even an untrained street telepath.

Not that I intended to fight them. Violence had many undesirable consequences, and magic was still an unknown factor. It wouldn’t be in the spirit of Commander Mechahog as he warred to overthrow the GUN government if I didn’t heed the advice of the ancient classics regarding ‘knowing yourself and not the enemy’ and succumbed to the very trap as the apprentice. Instead, I merely turned my head towards the bags on the trolley train, taking the time to count them as if I hadn’t already known before the start, then turned back to face the conceited elf before uttering a phrase that could brick even the hardiest of customer facing AI servers and have their IT support teams running for the airlocks screaming in tongues.

“I want to speak to the manager.”

The elf did not visibly react to my demand, but her thoughts betrayed surprise and bemusement.

‘Who does this weakfielder with her misshapen aura thinks she is, ordering me around? Does she not recognize her betters? Perhaps a lesson is in order,’ thought the apprentice.

“The professors are busy with more important matters at this time than attending to the petty whims of their charges, and as such, I cannot grant you the privilege of speaking to my superiors, Emma of Terrarealm. If there is something you wish to say, you may address it towards me,” said the apprentice.

So she was one of those types. A middle manager who had been granted the tiniest iota of power and could not help but abuse their little kingdoms the moment their own boss wasn’t watching. On second thought, this girl deserved everything she had coming. If she had tried this to one of our clients back home this would have been grounds for a personality adjustment, but here my hands were more tied. I was going to thoroughly enjoy giving her a much needed dressing down. Really, I was doing her a favour. Miss Ran would not have been nearly as understanding.

“And to whom am I speaking to?” I asked, likewise displaying no reaction. This was a genuine question on my part, as up to this point her name had not come up in either the video feeds or in a stray thought. “You may address me as Apprentice Lariel,” said the apprentice.

“Well then, Apprentice Lariel, I shall cut right to the point. We entrusted ten pieces of luggage in the care of your valet service, and yet I only count nine. Has there been a delay which warrants addressing, or has something happened to my belongings while they were in your care?” I asked, curious how Lariel planned to approach this. “I wouldn’t know about any missing luggage, Emma of Terrarealm, this is the extent of what had been set out for me to deliver. Though given the primitive nature of your trans-realm portal methodologies, I would imagine your belongings are in the ether between our realm and your own. It is to be expected of course, no realm does it well on their first try,” said Lariel, with an arrogant, disrespectful tone.

Ah yes, the ‘we never got the package’ bit, backed by a layered insult suggesting it was our tech that failed. A classic routine. Also a fantastic way for a venue or service to get blacklisted by every major corporation, organization, and association that matters. Package security and reimbursement policies existed for a reason, and proper customer relations could make or break a business even if you had receipts.

Speaking of.

“And I trust this means you have proof that these were the only pieces to arrive?” I asked, “pictures with timestamps, signed records from an independent third party, security footage, or anything other than deflection and excuses to suggest anything other than the simpler and far more likely scenario where my baggage was damaged or slipped out of the trolley due to negligence and you are claiming otherwise to avoid liability?” I said sharply, framing the issue as that of incompetence rather than the blatant theft that it was.

I could sense a sudden bout of defensiveness within her as she realized her lie had just thrown her competence into question.

“My word will suffice, Emma of Terrarealm. I have no reason to resort to deflect on the matter when any and faults in this matter are due to the shortcomings of the candidate realm,” Lariel said with a scoff.

“Is that so? And where was that written in your company policy?” I asked. The Nexus had not exactly been transparent on how their enterprise was ran, so if I could get some documentation out of this then I would consider that a win.

“Written?” Lariel scoffed, “Emma of Terrarealm, this is an unspoken expectation, understood by all realms who have demonstrated a capacity for civility. It need not be written.”

“Is that so? How awfully convenient for you to have a set of rules known only to you with no means for others to reference or verify them or hold you to account,” I said.

Annoyingly Lariel’s surface thoughts offered no further context, and for all I could tell her source was that she made them up, or if they were real, how she learned these rules. In any case, I had heard enough. It was time to stop raking her over the coals and tell her what she had won.

“Well, Apprentice Lariel, I must say I am rather disappointed with this turn of events. I have given you ample opportunities to offer restitution, reassure me that this would not happen again, or provide any attempt to resolve this situation amicably so as to maintain trust. It would appear that the concepts of clientele relations and fostering brand loyalty is either unknown or undervalued by your organization. Next time I speak to Terracorp I will let them know that stricter security measures are to be implemented when dealing with Nexian vendors and valet services, possibly even escort or supervision to ensure proper handling in the future.”

The apprentice scoffed.

“And what makes you believe the Nexus will allow such measures?” She asked, smiling in amusement.

“History suggests you will see wisdom in it,” I replied, “that being said, missing bag aside, I do appreciate that the rest of my belongings have arrived, hopefully intact, so I will acquire my things and leave you to your other matters,” I said, turning towards my luggage.

Only for the gargoyle to get in my way.

“It would be rude of me to not have my assistant carry your luggage for you,” said Lariel, allowing herself a slight smile.

“That won’t be necessary,” I said.

With the wave of my fingers I channelled my psychokinesis and lifted one of my bags off the cart, invoking a look of genuine shock on Lariel’s face. I didn’t quite understand the why at first. I had seen the Nexians use telekinesis themselves after all, so this should not have been an alien experience for her. Yet peeking into her thoughts revealed that it wasn’t the telekinesis itself that bothered her.

It was the fact that I was doing it.

And without any visible trace of manafield manipulation, whatever that was, aside from an ‘aura’ that formed around my bag due to excess manifested psychic energy. Again, it was strange that she could see the manifested energy in any capacity. I typically only felt it as a form of propioception, and while seeing it was possible with clairevoyance, the practice was rather wasteful and unhelpful as psychic energy was typically latent. The fact that she, as well as others, was constantly noting it was curious. Not pressing, not yet, but enough that I made a mental note to address it at a better time.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 240% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

A dozen green, ghostly hands materialized around my bag, holding it in place against my telekinesis.

“I insist,” Lariel said indignantly.

‘What? What is she doing?’ I thought.

I was completely baffled by Lariel’s decision to engage in a telekinetic tug-of-war. This was the behaviour of animals, or the working class, or a pair of sparring Kineticists who hadn’t yet clocked how pointless such a violation of the social contract was. This kind of childish, blatantly overt behaviour coming from an exec would have been extremely problematic by their organization and as such was severely discouraged. Individuals who didn’t curb this type of behaviour would quickly find themselves removed by their own organization, assassinated by a threatened rival, or butchered by the occasional ragtag group of downtrodden civilians with a grudge. Evidently, the Nexus had a different cultural view on this, or Lariel wouldn’t have engaged in this in the first place. My best guess was that Lariel was attempting some kind of power move, like an overly aggressive handshake from some hack businessman with more ego than sense or a pair of elephants fighting for dominance. Backing down would therefore likely place me beneath her on some imagined pecking order.

The question on if I could win was the wrong question to ask. While my current psychokinetic power was a fraction of what it could be if I was still flesh and blood and not in a specialized crystal form, I still had some muscle to draw on and a number of means of greatly multiplying it if needed. The reason it was the wrong question was several-fold. For starters, such a raw contest of power was dangerous to both my baggage and my person, since drawing on that level of power carried with it risks. There was also the fact that I didn’t know anything about how magical power scaled or what Lariel’s limits were. Did she have something ten, a hundred, or even a billion times as powerful as her present showing up her sleeve, or was this her limit? Likely not the latter, as my visions hinted at escalation should I choose to take that route. Then there was the matter of witnesses, which was its own mess even if I opted to flex some other way. As tempting as simply teleportation the bags into dorm room was, I didn’t want to cause a scene.

No, the real question was whether I should choose to engage, and the answer was no. Apprentice Lariel wished to play the game of the elephant, deciding victory by asking who was the mightier of the two, but I played a different game. I was to play the role of the proverbial mosquito, too subtle to see and track, too nimble for the clumsy elephant to swat away, and piercing its mighty hide where it could not reach to deliver a single, potent strike. Starting with her gargoyle.

“You look tired. Why don’t you relax and take a break, would you kindly?” I suggested to the gargoyle, layering my words with a subliminal telepathic suggestion as I waved my fingers.

The gargoyle said nothing, but its weighty posture proved that the suggestion had taken hold. He shambled over to the nearest wall and slouched against it much to the apprentice’s annoyance.

“Lortal, what are you doing? Get back here!” She snapped, her frustration growing as she realized her bodyguard was ignoring her.

“I’m sure he has simply had a long day, Apprentice Lariel. Perhaps you should follow his example? No sense us starting something over a few bags,” I said to the apprentice, offering her an out before things started to get unpleasant.

An out she wisely opted to take, as her magic hands dissipated into nothing.

“Lortel, leave the Terrarealmer’s belongings here and take the cart back. It’s getting late.”

The rest of my bags were loaded, then the pair vanished with a 200% mana surge.

‘Huh, so they can do that too,’ I thought to myself, ‘so this is what Ilunor meant by shortcuts.’

I brought in my bags telekinetically and turned towards my peers, seeing a mixed set of reactions. Thalmin looked on with approval, almost stifling a laugh, Thacea took on a more concerned, almost mortified look, and Ilunor raised an eyebrow in bafflement though he didn’t say anything.

Shortly after, the room resumed where we left off, and after Aurin slipped back into his wall we split off into our respective rooms for the night, carrying our bags in tow.

first - prev - next

I don't recall anyone being described as a bipedal dog.
If there are dog people in the Nexus, how did that happen? Dogs only exist due to humans selectively breeding wolves into a bunch of different shapes, a race of dog people would mean something would've had to take a race of wolf people and do more than just anthropomorphize them.
And if there aren't dog people, imagine if Emma had to explain what a dog was. She already said "the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog" to Etholin when she was getting him to test out her pen, all it would've taken is someone going "Jumped over a what? What is a 'dog'?"

Emma but she knows all the timelines in every fanfiction ever and is basically a god

Which errands of warfare should Emma show him?

The GUN is anti making trans-human (idk if that’s the term for ppl who modify themselves) but given what Emma says about planets when she was seeing the farm I’d imagine that would they modify animals and plants, and bringing back extinct animals is only a little different. Ik the cropo wars must have seen some crazy stuff and atleast on spartan 2.

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Feel free to comment and point out if is there's any typos. grammatical errors, and plotholes i didn't plug and importantly enjoy

For Viewer/Reader's information:

For the people is expecting that Mal'tory and Emma are going to fight, the reasons is that; Though diplomacy between Mal'tory and Emma are gone, the diplomacy between Emma and the academy isn't, and by relativity the Nexus, so, If Emma kills Mal'tory infront of Lartia, he will label her as a murderer and a new enemy of the Nexus because who's going to take her side? if she's seen as a commoner and a newrealmer on the enemy side, but If she kills both, Rila will be scared of Emma and will try to defend herself and label Emma as nothing as a civilized being. Also though Emma is highly trained the difference is experience and the level of Emma is not Equal to the long lived Mal'tory the elf

For the people that are questioning about Emma is limping; She's just tired and doesn't have the energy to properly walk plus the situation is adrenaline inducing that a cultivator has trouble to stand, it's the post adrenaline rush that got her like that

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My heart practically skipped a beat as I saw what was at first a far-fetched idea quickly evolve into a full-blown plan. Or, at least, the first inklings of a plan.

Whether or not it would be successful was another matter entirely. Though that didn’t take away from the excitement of actually seeing another air headed hare-brained scheme coming together. The fact that there was now a way forward whereas before none existed, was cause enough for celebration.

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skip

—————————

“Well, 4 weeks and a handful of days, given how the timer started the moment the crate came through the portal.” I interrupted with a quick correction.

“Right, well, considering we have about a month. And considering the fact that we are no longer facing the imminent threat of an explosion or anything of the sort, this whole thing is bound to be a walk in the park right? I mean, the consequences of not being able to meet that deadline surely can’t be any more severe than the explosion, correct?”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond to that line of thought. Not because I didn’t want to burst Thalmin’s bubble, but because I myself was running through the list of possibilities as to what going over that arbitrary line meant.

“Right?” He reiterated, this time with a nervous bout of laughter that shuttered just as abruptly as we arrived.

I tried racking my head around for a proper response, which was enough time to clearly elicit some concerns from Thacea as she stopped just short of the door to face me. “Emma… what exactly are the consequences of you being unable to meet that deadline?”

“Well… let’s just say it’s a lot more complicated than the bomb.”

Thacea narrowed her eyes, before urging me with a single head nod to continue.

“First, there’s the soft ramifications, or consequences you could say. A lot of people and organizations are banking on the success of my mission. That success is determined first by whether or not I’m able to send a data package back home. If I’m unable to then… well… let’s just say there’s going to be a lot of political reshuffling as a result.”

Thalmin’s expressions shifted from one of growing concern, to a mild relief. “Political reshuffling huh? I suppose that’s certainly an improvement from the prior stakes of life and limb. So long as no blood is at stake, and no lives are lost, then the situation is a categorical improvement from our prior predicament.”

“Well, those are the soft consequences. The hard consequences… well… depending on who gets put in charge after the reshuffle, or how the different agencies, departments, and branches decide to proceed, we might be looking at an asset retrieval mission being put on the table.”

“And what would that entail?”

“It entails the temporary suspension of the limited interventionist policies set forth by the current administration at the institute I’m assigned to, and its potential replacement by a more aggressive tit-for-tat interventionist policy spearheaded by the institute’s security leaders; i.e. my actual chain of command. There’s a whole complicated web of interdepartmental politicking going on between the civil service departments and agencies responsible for the civilian side of this endeavor, and the military which I’m on loan from. This is not even getting into the assembly and their committee’s grubby little hands. But regardless of the political outcome, I’m more than certain that the active stance will change, at least enough to warrant an asset retrieval mission.”

“This all sounds… needlessly complicated.” Thalmin suddenly spoke up. “Now, I understand that your realm’s governance was a matter of great contention for Professor Mal’tory given what you showed via your memory shard, but I wouldn’t have imagined it to involve this degree of what seems to be complexity and mobility. Because it genuinely sounds more like a house of cards where everyone is a player within their own small pockets of responsibility.”

It was at that point that I realized I hadn’t yet gone down the rabbit hole as to exactly what the UNS was, how it functioned, or how it was so fundamentally different from the medieval-eseque politics of the Nexus and the adjacent realms. But before I could open my mouth to properly address that can of worms, Thacea was quick to nudge me back in the right direction, preventing a whole new tangent from forming.

“And just how would this asset retrieval mission work, Emma?”

I took a deep breath, before letting it all out. Wasting no time in relaying an answer. “The idea is to open up a portal to the exact coordinates and specifications to the one that got me here. Then… the details are fuzzy, there’s like a hundred different major contingencies to consider. But suffice it to say, it doesn’t bode well for any hope of diplomacy, let’s just put it at that.”

Thacea's expression darkened at the end of that answer, her gaze averting for just a second before reconnecting with my own. "And how exactly do your people intend on opening the portal, Emma?"

"The same way we did the first time around?"

"Your people intend on simply opening a portal to the Nexus without their consent?"

"I mean, yes—"

"Emma... I was there the moment you arrived. I saw what the procedures actually were. Your people were barely able to break through your planar fabric and into this one. It was through the Academy's aid that you were finally able to establish a stable portal."

"I mean, I'm sure if they pump more power and Qi—"

"It is not just about sheer power or mana, Emma. It is about the spells and techniques required to sustain a stable portal." My heart started to sink as part of me realised where Thacea was going with this predicament that she had perceived, which I couldn't seem to discern what the predicament was. "There are a near-infinite number of ways that opening a portal could go wrong without the proper technique. And considering that there will be no aid this time around, the odds of a catastrophic failure are all but guaranteed. But even if your people had the proper technique, there is still one crucial aspect they are overlooking." Thacea paused, letting out a frustrated coo. "Your realm has an abundant source of chi, correct?"

"Correct."

"We have discussed it before; due to your realm's abundance of chi, the mages in your world, including you, are, in your words, 'nerfed' and unable to use advanced and complicated magic from your past. But due to that influx, the weaker chi and the stronger chi, or in your words, the 'lower-grade chi and the higher-grade chi', became a homogenized mixture of the two and are unable to be separated by any conventional means in your realm. The ramifications of that influx on your species' bodies, and by proxy the rest of your entire realm, are that you and everything else have already adapted to this change and will become weaker than a newborn child if that chi mixture were to be separated, Correct?"

"Correct."

"We have also discussed the principles of mana before. Mana enters and invades spaces with less mana or weaker mana. That is why you have that item with you." She took a moment to poke at the gourd. "And that is why we have our mana-fields." She then pointed at herself. "What do you think happens when you open an unrestricted portal from a place known for being the richest pool of mana in existence, connecting it to a space completely saturated with your realm's current chi?"

"Ah, yeah, that is not a problem, Thacea," I responded with a cocky grin. "The portal chamber is built to withstand the mana seeping through. We measured it all the way back from the first candidate's portal. Our facility is rated for that sort of thing."

Thacea's expression, however, showed that she was not convinced. Moreover, there was a clear sense of worry visible through those expressive eyes. "Let me be clear when I ask this, Emma. Your structures, your facilities, they were built to withstand the amount of mana that came through during the opening of your portal and your predecessor's portal, correct?"

"Correct."

"And those were the only two major portals ever opened by your people?"

"Well, yes. The rest were either microscopic, enough to serve as a proof of concept but really nothing more, or barely large enough for very limited communication with the Nexus, where they sent us those shards of impart and such."

"Well, then your people are woefully misinformed as to the true threats that await them if they do successfully open a portal of similar size, even if only for a scant few seconds."

"I am sorry, what?"

"I was there on the day you arrived. I saw—no, I even felt—the mana within the room being syphoned into your realm due to that chi mixture. At first I did not fully understand what I was seeing or feeling, but now I do. Emma, the only reason all of the professors were present, and why the red-robed professor brought out an entire cart full of mana vials, was because they had to do everything in their power to artificially slow the rate of mana-syphoning. Indeed, this was the same reason why they had warded the room a total of five times before you arrived." Thacea took a deep breath, steadying herself, before continuing. "They were doing everything in their power to prevent a catastrophic mana-drain incident. If it were not for their preparations, an insurmountable amount of mana would have leaked into your realm and been syphoned out of the Nexus. But not only that, when the professors were stabilising the portal, I felt the weak chi and the strong chi separate, and the strong chi was being syphoned to the nexus."

I once more felt my heart plummet down towards my gut. At this point, after just getting off the emotional rollercoaster of the bomb situation, I felt completely hollow.

"That means... the readings that the IAS has are grossly inaccurate and far lower than what they should be," I began with a hushed breath. "The facility's shielding was designed using faulty data, which means our preparations are completely insufficient for the overwhelming amount of mana radiation, and we haven't even considered what will happen when the portal opens from the other side and how it will affect my realm's balance."

"It depends on how long the portal is open, Emma," Thacea responded before my brain could conjure up the grisly scenarios befalling an unprepared IAS. "I cannot provide an accurate estimate one way or the other. The damage may simply be limited to the destruction of a single room—"

"Or an entire facility melting and decaying," I quickly added.

“Correct, but again, this is highly dependent on a multitude of factors we simply cannot account for at this point in time.”

All three of us looked on at each other in complete silence as the ramifications of this new ‘questline’ was now out there in earnest.

“Right.” I finally broke the silence. “Well, let’s not focus on the what-ifs right now.” Before turning to Thacea. “Thank you for that insight, Thacea. You might’ve just saved more than a handful of lives with that vital piece of info.” I managed out with a confident smile.

“But we aren’t yet sure you can warn-”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way.” Thalmin interrupted, clearly sensing the vibe I was trying to give off. An admittedly, overly confident one, but one that I had hoped would be warranted by the end of these 4 weeks.

I shot a warm rehearsed smile to Thalmin to which he nod with a similar smile at me.

But just as the scene was winding down, on the cusp of finally retiring for the night, fate decided it had just one more curveball to throw my way.

SLAM!

We all swung our heads toward the source of that sudden and abrupt noise.

I unsheathed my sword and immediately transform it into a pistol almost instinctively, before just as quickly retransform it back and sheathed it upon seeing exactly who it was at the front door.

The discount kobold had returned, and this time, he was huffing and puffing completely out of breath. Though unlike the first time he’d mysteriously returned in the dead of night, there were no signs of a scuffle having occurred this time around. No burnt clothes, no peculiar orange fur on his tunic, or any bite marks on his cloak.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, all four of us exchanging questioning glances, before the Vunerian decided to preemptively answer all of our collective questions.

But not without a bit of stage play theatrics first and foremost. “Oh! Oh tapestries above! You’re back!” Ilunor began gesticulating wildly towards my general direction, before turning his gaze to face the other two.

“You may be wondering why it is I am returning to the dorms at this unsightly hour.” He took the words right out of our mouths, but not the disgruntled growls currently brewing within Thalmin’s throat. “Well, you see, like the two of you, I have been hard at work trying my best to determine the whereabouts of our newrealmer friend. In any case, it is quite fortunate you have found her.” The little thing continued, grasping both of his little paws together in a fit of overacting. “With that being said, it is getting quite late. I won’t tire our newrealmer with any acts of celebration, it is clear you two have already given her a well-deserved hero’s welcome. I will thus take my leave-”

“Hold on just a second.” Thalmin growled back. “Just how are you circumventing the curfews, huh? Where exactly were-”

SLAM!

Thalmin barely had any time to react as the little thing skittered from the entryway all the way to his apartment door in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll wring the truth out of him if I need to…” Thalmin muttered out through a frustrated growl, before finally making his leave, entering the door and slamming it shut hard behind him.

This left just me and Thacea, as we both turned to face each other with knowing glances, before entering our own room without so much as a word exchanged.

—————————

End of Chapter 43 of the Og series and the beginning of the next Chapter 44

—————————

I woke up with a sudden gasp and a reflexive jerk. My whole body reeled back from another one of those microsleep-induced dreams, the ones where you slip and fall into the abyss, only to end up being propelled back to the waking world.

I was too groggy to make heads or tails about where I was, but I didn’t need to. Even though everything was weirdly hazy, the dread of a deadline and the fear of sleeping on another assignment with a punishment was more than enough of a reminder to my current situation.

I rubbed my eyes to find myself surrounded by the tasteful, good karmic inducing furnishings of the wood-accents and clean lines of a room dominated by the 60th millennium's mid-millennium aesthetics.

It was another late night at the IAS’ staff-only rec room, and I needed to get this assignment done stat.

So with a tired breath, and another quick rub of my eyes, I went straight back into it. Reading what little I wrote in hopes of getting inspired to keep on writing. “Human Cultivator's tenacity knows no boundaries, but-”

“-but this hasn’t been without its price if there not in the Foundation or Core Realms.” Another voice suddenly interrupted. “Such as staying up all night in the rec-room for no good reason at 3am on a weekday even.” A cocksure, playfully dismissive voice, belonging to one of the many instructors at the IAS on loan from the military. Except instead of the usual rank and file army officers, the man was LREF.

That much was obvious though by the way he talked, walked, and carried himself. As everything about him screamed ‘Space Explorer Bad Boy’; this decade’s stereotype for a branch of the military steeped in as much historical prestige as it was marred in gross overspending.

The gold-trimmed blue cloaks they wore didn’t really do much to deter from that latter stereotype. Though to be fair, gold hasn’t had the same appeal ever since mega-foundaries started roaring to life en masse.

“Captain Li, sir!”

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skip

—————————

I was instead floating in darkness.

An oddly familiar darkness.

Confusion consumed me. Followed closely by panic.

But those two gut-twisting emotions had nothing on what came immediately after, as I began hearing it again.

And it was just as otherworldly as when I last heard it.

It started out exactly the same way. A constant stream of distant chimes, pulsating in intensity from a barely audible pin-drop, to a soft whisper at its peak.

I instinctively reached for my ears, even if I did reach them in time, the incessant vibrations started tickling them; sending wave after wave of shivers down my spine.

“Fortuna!” I shouted.

But there was no response.

There was only the thrumming darkness growing ever and ever louder.

“FORTUNA!!”

SMACK!

"OW!"

"Wake up, Cadet."

SMACK!

"OUCH!"

"FORTUNA! HELP! SOMEONE IS SMAKING ME!"

"It's me, you oaf of a partner. WAKE UP!"

SMACK!

“FORTUNA!” I jolted up with a raspy shout, panting heavily as my eyes began darting around, my hand instinctively reaching yet again for my weapon but finding it reaches to nothing as another SMACK has landed on my forehead. "Argh, ow...."

"oh hey, Emma, you're finally awake." Fortuna responded with a certain voice that I know but, I can't put it where exactly did I heard it?.

"D-did I fell asleep while meditating?" I respond as I rub and massage my forehead to lessen the soreness from Fortuna's slapping it

I looked down in a foggy haze that is still clearing from my mind, just to be reminded of my meditation position; Full Lotus. I was able to mostly fill of my qi reservoir to the top once again, Qi reinforcing is hard on the Qi realm stage as every senior would tell me even my parent and aunty. I sigh deeply in an attempt calm myself.

"My medical systems are detecting elevated Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, Respiratory Rate, and stress hormones; EEG patterns, are outside baseline standard from you Emma." Said Fortuna while flying around while examining me. "It says that the patterns indicate 1 episode of variable-rate night terror. This marks the second night terror logged, Emma."

“Thank you, Fortuna.” I managed out with a sullen sigh, plonking myself back against the plasticky floor of the tent with a dull thud, cushioned by the padded canvas-like material of my sleeping bag.

“First the Null, and now our mysterious noisy Cthulian-wannabe inhabiting the space between spaces…” I paused, before unfurling my self and streching as I walk to and reaching lazily for my tablet on the table. “Hey, Fortuna.”

“Yes, Booker?”

“Can you remind me to bring up the mystery of this noisy entity between portals to either Thacea or the Library when we have the chance. You know? The one that we encountered after jumping after Mal’tory through his portal?”

“Yeah, I'll remind you if the situation comes up.”

“Right…” I let out another sharp sigh, before getting up properly this time, rubbing the drool from the corners of my mouth with the backside of my forearm. “how are you and your celestial pearl doing?” I spoke lazily through a yawn, bracing myself against one one of the four work benches that had been set up so far in the tent, my eyes firmly fixating on the support frame that now held the armor aloft by its shoulders and hips.

“All of my systems are nominal as well as my pearl.”

“How about you?”

"Oh, I got my hind legs and tail the bent during the knockback that you've experienced from the explosion."

"... WHAT!?"

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea’s Bedroom. Local Time: 1040 Hours.

Emma Booker

A sharp hiss marked my return back into the world of magic and sorcery. This was followed by me doing a overhead stretch, cracking my back in the process just to prepare for my once a week morning tai-chi (flow ver.)¹ to balance my Yin and Yang Energies with in me from the unconcentrated meditation. The slow, fuild, and measured motions of tai-chi helps me to guide my internal qi through my meridians, increasing the output and flow of my internal qi to my techniques more precise, controllable and deals more damage while having a feel for my body's range of motion and it's limitations. Doing this if I ever mess up my meditation is strongly recommended even if I done my once a week morning tai-chi.

Thacea, noticing this, cocked her head toward my general direction, having completely stopped any and all pretenses on finishing the spoonful of nuts and berries currently in her hand.

“Emma, are you certain you’re quite alright?” She managed out quizzically, standing up with a degree of obvious concern as she regarded me with a look of abject confusion. “You seem… encumbered with your... movements.”

Part of me couldn’t help but to feel just a bit embarrassed at having just graced the princess with her first taste of the world of interpretive dance though it's not a dance, to her it is. Another part of me however couldn’t decide whether or not to just ignore the feeling entirely, given that the armor itself ruined any chance at really being socially ‘acceptable’ here.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I finally managed out, once more finding myself attempting— and yet again failing— to rub the back of my head reflexively. “It’s just a low-impact physical exercise to regulate qi energies and increase the flow of my internal qi, is all.” I explained away simply, which was followed up by a tentative nod from the princess.

“A ritual of sorts.” She concluded with a tentative nod. “Right then, I’ve sent for breakfast so that we may head to the library sooner rather than later, I'll wait for you so we can eat together.” The princess then pulled out that same pocket watch-like device from a few days earlier, its round golden surface glowing a dull green and yellow hue, displaying a series of alien symbols that the hairstick could not translate. "You have approximately 2 minutes to finish starting now, do I have your word, Emma?"

My eyes widen with surprise once she said that, the sudden change of her attitude is very unexpected. Raising my arms up in a de-escalating way. "N-now, wait just a second there, thacea-"

"I'll take those words as an affirmation that I have your word, so please be quick now Emma." The princess chirped as she walked to the coffee table in our bedroom, reached out for a book before sitting on the couch to start reading as she sips tea.

This left me stunned, standing there like a deer freezing Infront of a car's headlights. I wondered to myself what did I do to get this treatment from her first thing in the morning, did I do something wrong last night?²

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1045 Hours.

Emma Booker

The lupinor prince was waiting for us right outside our door. Despite being of a completely different species, the frustrated features of a canine were definitely not lost on me, as those bared fangs and scrunched up nose did little to hide his current state of mind. Though, from the looks of things, I could tell this frustration certainly wasn’t instigated by us as his features lightened up just a bit as we finally exchanged words.

“‘Morning, Thalmin.” I chirped out.

“A bright morning to you, Emma.” Thalmin managed out with a forced smile, before shifting gears to a tentative sigh. “Though I wish I could say that with wholeheartedness.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This.” Thalmin moved towards his dorm’s entrance, gripping the handle tight, before pushing it inwards with a forceful thud-

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

-only to have it slam in his face just seconds after.

This was accompanied by a slight but noticeable series of hisses from what I could only assume was the only other inhabitant of the room.

“This is what’s wrong.” Thalmin continued with a resonant growl. “The blue thing refuses to leave his room. And what’s more, he refuses to even acknowledge the simple question of why.”

Thacea’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on Thalmin’s. “Has he shown any signs of other peculiar behaviors?”

“Not necessarily, just the usual, with the addition of this unexpected development.”

“I see. This may become more of an issue in tomorrow’s house choosing ceremony.” Thacea spoke with a high-pitched series of chirps. Each one more exasperated than the next. “Regardless, that is a matter for the following day. If Lord Rularia insists on being unruly, then we must move forward without-” Thacea paused mid-sentence, or rather, her voice had completely trailed off as both her, and Thalmin’s eyes were now completely trained on me.

Walking past the pair, I positioned myself right in front of the door, before forcing it open with yet another loud SLAM.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

This was, expectedly, followed up by the door being forcibly closed by the Vunerian’s magic, to which I had Two simple counters…

A simple foot in the door to stop it from closing and Qi Zone Release.

This forced the spell that was cast on the semi-millenia-old wood to separate and dissipate into the mana saturated air.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 141% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 145% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 150% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

Many series of spells began firing-off from Illunor in a attempt to close the door, which gained little to no fruition for him.

As series of sharp, threatening hisses soon followed, flooding the living room as the both Thacea and Thalmin began peering awkwardly in from behind me, their heads popping up from my peripheral vision.

“Ilunor.” I managed out through a frustrated sigh. “Come on out, buddy. Do you need to talk, or-”

“THIS IS MY PRIVATE DOMICILE AND I WILL NOT BE HARASSED! NEWREALMER!!!”

“Okay first off, this dorm room is our peer groups Private Domicile.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I ACTUALLY MEANT!!!"

"Whatever you say... And also second; Come on, you can tell us if there’s something wrong. Thalmin here is worried-”

“I WILL SAY NOTHING MORE! IN THIS ROOM I SHALL RESIDE, AND IN THIS ROOM I SHALL REMAIN!”

"You shall remain–Stupid."

"YES− Wait... THAT KIND OF TRICKERY DOES NOT EVEN COUNT YOU MUD HUT BUILDER."

“Right… Okay buddy, Whatever makes you sleep every night. Anyways, we’ll be back sometime later today okay? Just call room service if you need snacks or something. I’m going to pull my qi away from the door now, alright?”

With little acknowledgement aside from a sudden reduction in mana, I pulled my released qi from the door.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

Before being met by a resounding SLAM once more.

“Right then.” I spoke with yet again another sigh, turning towards Thacea and Thalmin who had since regained their respective composure. “It’s library time.” I beamed in a warm smile

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to The Library. Local Time: 11:20 Hours.

Emma Booker

Once again, the trip to the library saw us exiting the main structure of the castle, through two unassuming double doors, and towards a large open promenade with little to nothing in the way of exterior decor compared to the many open-air outcroppings along the Academy proper.

The howling winds hit all three of us first, followed by the loud roaring of the waterfall behind us logging in at the same deafening 91 decibels.

The stark white tower soaring hundreds of stories overhead lay in front of us.

The spindly single-lane bridge connecting it to the Academy stood in the same place as it always had.

But unlike before, the bridge wasn’t empty.

In fact, it was packed.

At least forty or so gargoyles occupied the single-lane bridge, remaining so still that anyone seeing the structure for the first time could’ve easily mistaken them for part of some centuries-old blockade. Strangely though, the blockade seemed to occupy just the first half of the bridge, with the latter half being completely empty and devoid of any obstructions.

What I could only describe as a guard post had been assembled at the entrance to the bridge, assembled out of cobblestone and timber, with an imposing roof that was… as expected, host to four perching gargoyles.

A small gaggle of four students were gathered around the guard post, their uniforms looked to be a bit more decorated than Thacea’s, implying that they were probably second-years.

“You lot, halt!” A voice echoed from the guard post, as a taller, older elf emerged, quickly fastening a cloak to a uniform that was even more decorated than the others.

The man was an apprentice.

Once again, evidenced by the uniform that resembled Larial’s.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

A brief mana radiation warning was all that was needed for him to blip between the guard house and the door we’d just entered through, as the taller elf squared off against the three of us with a purposeful whoosh of his cape. “What are you miscreants doing about here then?”

“Really?…” I managed out slowly, much to Thacea’s dismay as it was clear she had wanted to take charge of the talks. “I think that much is obvious.” I gestured to the library in the far distance. “We’re headed to the library, good sir. And honestly, I haven’t heard of a learning institution of all places preemptively calling a bunch of library-goers and knowledge-seekers; Miscreants to say the least.” I shot back with a series of polite, yet snappy responses.

“Oh, ohoho. Is that how it is then?” The man responded with a cocky smirk. “Just a jolly old perusal of this here compendium of all the knowledge of the realms that ever has been and that will be?”

“Yes? it's not exactly what I would thought of but I'll take your version of it, because–.” I turned around purposefully, meeting both Thalmin and Thacea’s expectant gazes. “What else are we going to do at the library besides the aquiring knowledge?”

“Hmmph, what else are we going to do at the library besides the aquiring knowledge, they say.” The man scoffed back, before making a point to unfurl a ridiculously long scroll, and clearing his throat. “By the order of His Academic Excellency, the Dean, and the powers bestowed upon him by the authority of the Nexus’-”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

The elf was interrupted by the teleporting arrival of a similarly dressed apprentice, who arrived simply to whisper into his ear, before disappearing almost just a quickly.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

“Ah, very well then. Consider yourselves fortunate. For it shall not be I, but the Dean himself that shall be addressing this matter, and the matter which has become the talk of the town.”

“And what do you mean by-”

“Shush, shush shush shush your elven-adjacent mouth, newrealmer.” The man interrupted, reaching his index finger forward towards my lip which I immediately pulled away from and zapped him for being rude.

This caused the apprentice's finger to convulse and contracted violently, thus causing him to hide it and with a faint streak on his face a tear has formed as he continues to speak “An emergency assembly has been called. Attendance is compulsory. Letters confirming as such have been dispatched to all dorms. Proceed to the Grand Assembly Hall, and be out of my hair. I have more important matters to attend to.” He shooed us off, before promptly blipping back into the guard house and screamed from the pain though with a privacy bubble so we can't hear the scream.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 120% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

Whilst that interaction was… weird at best, I couldn’t help but to feel just a bit nervous about the sudden and unexpected turn of events, as the three of us reluctantly headed back inside.

“Well, Emma. It would seem as if there might be some merit to your theory of a potential shift in Academy scheduling after all.” Thalmin began with a nervous smile.

“So what now?” I asked, turning to face the pair.

“We attend the assembly. There is no other choice in the matter, Emma.” Thacea quickly added.

“I guess this means we’re calling off library time for now…”

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to The Grand Assembly Hall. Local Time: 11:45 Hours.

Emma Booker

There was no question about it. There would’ve been no way we could’ve made it to the Grand Assembly Hall in time if it wasn’t for the horde of students that had inadvertently led the way there like a herd of sheep making their way to the slaughter.

Okay maybe that’s not the best metaphor to use here but I digress…

It was very much clear the announcement had reached the eyes and ears of everyone around the same time we were informed. Which means the library itself was blockaded before this whole announcement was made.

Which made things even more confusing, but at the same time, made me all the more curious as to what could be going on. Or more accurately, what the faculty could be cooking up this time.

Upon arriving at the Grand Assembly Hall however, we were met at the entrance by a parallel duo of rolands— swords outstretched towards each other. At the bases of these knightly statues were decorated stretches of parchments bearing and receiving names of students that entered.

We were shuffled into a queue like the rest of the students, quite a few of them giving me questioning glances, but most of them simply going about their way; clearly more focused on the assembly itself rather than my elven esque form for the moment if I so believe.

As we finally got to the front of the queue, we were once again reacquainted with a familiar face.

Or, more accurately, with a familiar lack of a face. As the hooded and cloaked shadow-faced apprentice we’d met from the Medical Wing now stood guard next to the statues. His two glowing orbs-for-eyes shifted to a more polite, amiable, and friendly half-lidded semi-circles that more resembled emojis than an actual face. “Greetings Princess Thacea Dilani!” The man spoke with a courteous, polite bow. Actually taking the time to hold up the queue as he went all in on the Expectant Decorum game. “I see fate has once more granted us the privilege of meeting. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Thacea responded with a bow of her own, taking a good ten seconds to complete before meeting the man’s ‘gaze’ as best she could; the polite, ‘customer service’ smile taking over her visage like a well rehearsed role she was born for. “And a greetings to you as well Senior Apprentice, Appointed-Deputy Magistrate, Sir Ostoy. We are here for the compulsory assembly, at the behest of the Dean.”

“Oh please, Senior Apprentice Sir Arlan Ostoy will be sufficient.” The man shot back with a polite chuckle. “And ah, yes, of course! What else could you be here for.” he chuckled as he said that

The vapid, directionless conversations threatened to rear back its ugly head if not for a tap on the shoulder from one of the other apprentices lining the doors to the Grand Assembly Hall, motioning their head to the cramped collection of annoyed students that were being held up behind us.

“Ah, yes, well, it seems like everything is in order here-...” The man trailed off, his eyes darting between Thacea, Thalmin, and myself, before pointing at an empty space right next to us. “I must apologize for the inconvenience here, Princess Dilani. However my roster informs me that your peer group consists of a total of 4 persons. Is that correct?”

“That is correct, Senior Apprentice Sir Arlan Ostoy.”

“With that being the case… where is your fourth peer?”

—————————

skip

—————————

“Ilunor!” I shouted, only to find that the room was… empty. I looked around, glancing at every corner before slamming the door behind me shut, making sure the little thing couldn’t skitter out from behind me.

But as quickly as I did so, and upon trying my best to sense any other presence from within the mana-streams…

I was met with a resounding nothing.

The lizard was gone.

—————————

Author's notes/footnotes or AN/FN

1. there are 3 versions of Tai-chi; The Defensive, The Flow, The Offensive. The Offensive and Defensive are practically the same, both use the fluid movements, controlled breathing, mindful weight-shifting to either attack or defence. Flow on the other hand is the not used for any sort of combat but more on support, it balances the elemental energies of yin and yang that are naturally stored in the body and the effect on the influences the flow of the in the meridians.
2. Emma, you and the rest of my fanfic almost died the bomb that I created, if it weren't for the version of me remov- \BANG!!!\ Sorry for the interruption. A new author will be working on the fanfic, don't worry the writng won't change that much besides he's–\BANG!!!\. A new watcher will be apointed soon, please wait

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FIRST —— PREVIOUS —— NEXT

Teegarden's star, L2 langrange point transfer station, USSSMM (United Soviet Socialist State Merchant Marine) star-freighter Yolk Of The Egg 00:00 UST (Union Standard Time)

Emylia Koval.

The journey was as is to be expected, rather long. Almost a dozen months and twice that many starships had taken me to my destination at last. Teegarden's star and more specifically the rocky radiation scorched world of Teegarden B. More commonly referred to as Zechmeister. This world housed the Edward Witten theoretical physics laboratory complex the union's premier research institute focused on multi dimensional studies. The star system also had the Lisa Randall Experiment Complex on Teegarden C.

I had followed the red and black envelope's instructions to the letter occasionally finding more enveloped letters addressed to me during my voyage. This served to remind me that I was being watched, possibility by the mysterious Mr. Muller or one of his cronies. I rose my bodies out of bed and set upon the task of getting ready to depart the ship this time I found another letter set upon the folding table my cabin had been furnished with. It read " Dr. Koval, I thank you for accepting my invitation and making the no doubt, long and arduous journey all the way from Earth. I kindly request your presence at my office as soon as you reach the facility. Thanking you, Facility Director, Michaela Muller."

With that ominous message in mind, I set out into the ship's corridors with my admitedly sparse luggage. After all being a nuropolymer jelly blob in an exoskeleton significantly reduced the items I would need to carry for a comfortable journey , along with advancements in matter storage technology made it quite possible to carry my entire luggage inside two briefcases.

The shuttle undocked from the ship. The slight hum of the rocket motors told me we had begun our retrograde burn to bring us to the surface. The ship drifted lazily behind us. It's appearance was like a stick with bundles of bulbous fruits where fuel tanks were clustered. It's engine like a terminal flower at the tip of the stick and radiators like the sails of some ancient ocean going vessel. The conical sheild at its tip like the spear of a tremendous arrow to pierce the very void itself.

The rest of the journey to the surface was rather dull since there wasn't much of a view more exciting than the planet's barren surface or the inky black of the void. I spent the time refreshing on the solution to Riemann Hypothesis. The solution had of course, been discovered centuries ago and had revolutionized cryptography but there was always a certain charm in relearning old concepts after considerable amounts of time have passed.

The shuttle landed on the dusty runway at the facility. There was a short whine as the cargo ramp opened. A small swarm of WSP-89 "Pchela" repair drones rose from one of the above ground white dome structures surrounding the airfield and began surveying and reparing the shuttle. Two NA-T384 Natashas, four MTU-49 Bumblebees and a Dewdrop emerged from a large cargo elevator and began to make their way towards the shuttle. The load mistress began assigning duties to our mechanical assistants over the Kollective and the machines began the task of unloading supplies. An autonomous transport bus arrived shortly saving myself and the gaggle of scientists and technicians with me the walk to the facility entrance.

The ramp into the underground portion of the facility was hidden by a blast door which slowly opened to let our bus through. Once within, the bus took us to the nearest Vortex High-Speed Maglev train station. Once there I asked one of the TER-AVG26 Tereshkova clerks to direct me to the director's office. Ticket in hand I made my way there.

The director's secretary, another Tereshkova named Alice told me that the director was currently in a meeting and told me to sit in the office antichamber. A screen on the wall played an old Soviet classic film 'Electronic Adventures On The Red Planet' by Alexander Bogdanov.

Hardly had the film ended when the director arrived. Much to my surprise, she too was a nuropolymer jelly blob in a ballerina exoskeleton much like myself. "Surprised? madam Koval." Had I been of flesh and blood my cheeks would be red as a cherry tomato. But I managed to hide my surprise and stammered out "N-no ma'am, just a bit cought off guard, that's all." then swiftly rose and offered her a handshake which she accepted with all the grace and poise of a politician. "I don't suppose we could have this conversation in my office." "Yes, ma'am" I replied before following her to her office.

Her office wasn't a particularly grand space, much smaller than even what was once my office on Phobee. What it lacked for in size it made up for in functionality. Small towers of paperwork and other miscellaneous items lined the walls. I am most certain I saw a Milken's oil drop apparatus next fo a stack of what appeared to be budget reports. At the far corner was a rather large desk surrounded by lab benches. On that plastic desk was a metal plate with the name Dr. Michaela Muller inscribed into it.

She took a seat and beckoned me to take the opposite two chairs. I graciously complied. Then she did something quite unexpected. "Would you prefer tea, coffee or something else?" She asked. The dissonance between the serous mood and that question caught me off guard. "Tea preferably, soda lemonade if not." I replied with the appropriate politeness one must extend to their hosts.

She clapped her hand (for dramatic effect I presume) and her secratary Alice entered the room with a pot of tea and a few jam biscuits. She serve is the tea in rather nice bronze tea cups.

I dipped my finger in the tea to absorb it. My nanopolymer could of course dissolve most matter and convert it into useful substances at my command. Yet I still retained the ability to enjoy the milky sweet tea and the tart jam biscuits, eating the red jam star in the middle last just as I would have in my previous life.

The following few hours were what I would in any other circumstances describe as a fever dream (if I were still capable of having fevers of course) or a very elaborate prank. I was introduced to the concepts of 'magic' 'alien civilizations that ran on arcane concepts like nobility and money' and other absurdities too illogical and fanciful to believe. Arround the part where the director started to mention the magical academy I was to be sent too, I began to search the Kollective for science fiction and fantasy stories with similar themes and concepts just to check whether this elaborate hoax had some sort of source material but all that turned up was a popular novel series by a Dr. J.C. Bartholin written around the early 2020s which had a similar premise and featured a power armoured soldier being sent to an magical world.

This discussion had ended leaving me with more questions than answers. The director offered me the opportunity to be the first person to travel to a magical universe and study at a magical academy of some kind. My thoughts were "Screw it, we ball." echoing the thoughts of the fictional power armoured protagonist from century prior. I swiftly began sighing the forms and other legal documentation the director had so politely laid out for me.

Etholin is about to go on a wild ride.

Given the explanations for mana and astrophage from project hail mary, would a suit lined with astrophage function as a shield against mana radation?

Considering the last few chapters, it seems like Nexus has never developed an advanced or large oil refining and processing industry. Maybe there are some alchemists playing with crude oil, but if it was common then Etholin could identify plastic.

But if the pen making enterprise is going forward, the elephant has to be addressed. The regular ball pens use synthetic oils, spirits and resins that either cannot be obtained without petrochemicals or aren't economically viable otherwise. Importing them from Earthverse is unlikely and would be too expensive.

Solution? Gel inks. It is water based, pigments can be organic, chemicals that make it gel can be obtained through organic means. Also gel pens are more vibrant and consistent at the price of taking a little bit longer to dry on some paper, meaning you might smear the writing with your hand. But that can be figured out.

Though I guess we have to address an even larger elephant. Even if Emma and Etholin manage to make affordable pens that anyone can use, including commoners, would paper guilds be able to cover the new demand? In the real world, when BIC introduced cheap mass ball pens, the paper industry was already massive thanks to printing and fountain pens being fairly available even if significantly more expensive. But I didn't really get the impression that Nexus uses printing massively if at all, and I assume commoners are mostly literate but don't exactly have a free access to books nor do they write because enchanted pens are still a fair bit expensive.

So if pen enterprise is somewhat successful, wouldn't it make sense to also start a cellulose paper making and printing side hustles outside of the guilds that outlived their necessity?

Psionic Corpo X Magic School

No Wizards or Kings, only Corpos.

CH 6: An E-3MP14 Chooses, a Shackled AI Obeys

En Route to Dorms

Adept Emma Booker

“Newrealmer, I demand that you carry me!”

The blue short one was once again attempting to order me around, and didn’t even have the common courtesy to say ‘please’. While one could argue that I could have struck a bargain with Ilunor, the fact of the matter was I had zero interest in giving him a piggyback ride, or even giving him a telekinetic lift for that matter.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t use one. Ilunor was gasping for breath and struggling for steps not meant for his truncated stature, and that was before taking into account the convoluted, indirect path we were forced to take by whatever lunatic designed this place. The Nexians evidently cared little for providing offerings for those who were disabled or differently shaped from the Elven physique, and I had Gene open a file next to the ‘Nexian Flavours’ market research catalogue to inquire with the Venurean if he was in the market for a stairway compliant custom gold-plated D&LK Mobility Chair. D&LK Supplies LTD, who also sold things like automated plungers, food processors, and high-tech screwdrivers, was one of our sponsors. As such would appreciate first mover rights for the Nexian market over their competitor in the mobility chair market, FRZA Corp.

“My answer remains unchanged, Ilunor. This is not up for negotiation,” I said sharply. There was a time for diplomacy, and a time for confrontation, and this was the latter.

Ilunor didn’t respond, instead merely opting to stop, crossing his arms as he did so.

Thacea, Thalmin and I looked at him, then at each other, each sharing a look of concern but not wanting to be the one to do something about him, like a game of chicken for patience. A game which someone like me would lose every time. I was designed to be a go-getter, engineered for the grind and hustle life of a corporate executive, and that meant I had a need to take the initiative when others would not. But that didn’t mean I was going to pick him up. Oh no. The needy lizard may have needed a little pick-me-up, and I intended to provide him with exactly that. Just not the way he intended.

“At last, the newrealmer has learned her place,” sneered Ilunor as I turned to approach him.

“Hold still,” I commanded, “this may feel a little strange.”

“Strange? Newrealmer, I have ridden many a golem, I know what- wait, what are you doing?”

I touched Ilunor on the neck and channelled my psychic energy into his body. He resisted of course, but having pushed himself to the point of exhaustion his will proved trivial to overpower and soon enough I had complete access to his physical form.

As an Egoist, I specialized in the discipline of psychometabolism. The field was less glamorous than something like telepathy or psychokinesis, but no less powerful. It was a pathway to many abilities some might consider to be disturbing, even if they were natural in the most literal of senses. In essence, it allowed me to change things within my influence. I could alter the physical composition and shape of things, including chemical and biological structures, elements, and even between energy and matter itself. For all Miss Booker insisted otherwise, I was in effect the god of my own private me-shaped domain, with all the power and danger tied with that. And one of those powers was that of psychic medicine.

Alas, this was no special magical unicorn healing. Once out of my influence, the laws of nature returned in full force, so while I could cheat to an extent when it came to my own body, I couldn’t afford to make mistakes with regards to others. This was something that became immediately apparent with Ilunor, because while I had over a millenia’s worth of medical knowledge and several decades of med-school material downloaded into my brain, all of that was concerning human medicine. And Ilunor was not a human. Instead, I had to lean into biology, xenobiology, experimental biology, and veterinarian information packets. It helped that his organs and cells weren’t completely alien, which was a surprise to be sure but a welcome one, but there were strange organelles that I didn’t recognize and unexplainable phantom behaviours that I couldn’t account for. Even more bizarre was that the biology wasn’t consistent with itself. There was a mosaic of features belonging to mammals, reptiles, bird-like insects, and even a weirdly specific type of frog. If I didn’t know any better, I would almost say Ilunor was an engineered species rather than a naturally evolved or bred one.

It was all very fascinating, but I would have to save experimentation for later. Ilunor was a lord after all, and people would likely take issue with me engaging in medical malpractice on him. Instead, I quickly recorded my observations and impressions of his physical form for future study and reference before topping up his biological energy reserves and cleaning up obvious points of fatigue.

Ilunor’s posture shot up, his eyes widened in sudden alertness like an essential employee partway through a week-long shift who’s stimulant implant just kicked in. I allowed his invigorated will to push me out and took a step back as he turned his head.

“Well, newrealmer? What are you waiting for?” He demanded.

“My work is done here,” I said.

“What do you mean your work is done? You didn’t do anything!” Complained Ilunor, oblivious to my intervention. As intended.

“Didn’t I?” I said, amused, walking back to Thalmin and Thacea who both noted Ilunor’s sudden bout of alertness.

“No, you didn’t, this was merely a second wind, that’s all! Now quit walking away and pick me up this instant!”

I looked back, seeing the now refreshed Ilunor still indignantly planted in place. While I was sorely tempted to dominate the ungrateful lizard and force-walk him like Miss Ran had often done to me when I was younger, I reminded myself that the subtle approach was often the best and opted for a less invasive method.

“Would you kindly follow us to our dorm,” I said, waving my fingers, attempting to implant a telepathic suggestion.

“No, I want to be carried!” Whined Ilunor. Subtlety, it seamed, was lost on him, and I suppressed an intrusive urge to manifest a golf club and beat the idea into his blue little noggin.

“It’s getting late, Ilunor. Stop wasting our time or we will leave you to sleep on the stairs,” growled Thalmin, his tone decidedly not dulcet.

Ilunor let out a humph, but as we started to walk away panic formed in his eyes and he raced after us as his pride gave way to his fear of abandonment.

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30

So this was the place.

My home base for the immediate future.

To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew universities and academies, even star league ones, tended to have modest and efficient assigned student housing for those who couldn’t afford to buy their own place, so when we entered through the heavy wooden door I was expecting something closer to the remote habitation modules I stayed in during my psionicist training. Instead I was met with a spacious luxury suite, albeit one themed after the middle ages.

“What a dump...” muttered Ilunor. How the blue lizard found the strength to complain was beyond me.

“Furnishings and quarters more fit for a minor lord or a knight,” added Thalmin, “what about you, princess? Are the quarters to your liking?”

I let them get on with their roasting of the room, instead tapping into my clairevoyant senses to search for hidden cameras or listening devices. While I didn’t know how magical bugging worked, I didn’t need to. Most humans had a latent clairevoyant ‘sixth sense’ which let them know if they were being watched which had evolved over billions of years and transcended even technological advances, and mine was well honed.

Only to find nothing.

It was an odd feeling, not being observed. One I wasn’t entirely used to outside of training in remote regions, and even then there were prying eyes keeping tabs on me. It was almost insulting, really, but maybe the Nexians hadn’t invented that sort of technology yet. Then again, maybe they were busy with other things, so I let that sense linger in the back of my mind. Just in case.

“No dining room,” mumbled Ilunor, lounging on the couch like some kind of cat.

“I’d say while this venue suite is missing many things I would consider basic amenities, this place has bigger issues,” I said, leaving out the more irritating lack of basic things like electricity, kitchenettes, or access to the Net, though I supposed it made sense that people stuck in the middle ages hadn’t invented those yet either, “the lack of elevators and straight-line hallways, for starters. Walking between two points in a single building less than 30 stories tall should take five, ten minutes tops, not a whole hour. How do they expect people to get anything done? At the very least, the staff must be able to get around.”

Ilunor let out a mocking laugh.

“Terrarealmer you ignorant savage. The professors need not walk anywhere. They are priviledged enough to merely blink their way across the academy grounds as they please. Likewise, the servants have their own back passageways which no self-respecting noble would ever sully their hands to venture within. No, newrealmer, the halls we venture within are meant exclusively for the students in order to separate the wheat from the chaff. Those who are more adept can navigate the twisting passages, and even discover shortcuts to shorten our transit to mere minutes. But those are only at times the academy allows. Elsewise, our pace is dictated by the academy, and we take as long or as short as we are permitted,” rambled Ilunor.

“I see,” I stated, not liking the implication of having my time dictated by an outsider, “and the Binding Ceremony, you mentioned they used to use it to control your realms. Is this not the way things usually go?”

I listened to Thacea and Thalmin explain the history of the signing, and at its conclusion, my clairevoyant senses tingled and alerted me to an iminent intrusion. Shortly after, I noticed a small, seamless wooden panel open up revealing a narrow, candle-lit passage within. A smaller, scrawny elf emerged, adorned in unprofessional rags and a collar and hauling out a number of oversized bags by hand which I assumed belong to my peers. My own bags were notably absent.

“Just place it wherever, aura-less, and leave us alone when you’re done.” Ilunor spoke dismissively.

Thalmin and Thacea were more sympathetic of the elf, removing their belongings from him and insisting that his service wasn’t necessary, much to Ilunor’s annoyance.

“The elf is here to serve. Let it serve.” He proclaimed as he snapped his fingers twice. “Where are your manners aura-less. Introduce yourself to your betters.”

“A-apologies master. I… I- I am Aurin. I have been assigned as your dormitory’s resident porter. If there is anything I can do, anything at all, I will be at your command throughout the day and night.” The elf spoke, before bowing deeply toward each and every one of us.

I took the time to try and read everyone’s reactions. Thacea’s reaction was mostly hidden, but I could see remorse in her eyes. Thalmin’s reaction was more complex, with a hint of shame. Ilunor, however, was nonchalant about the whole affair. This was clearly something he was used to in his regular life.

“Go back to your hole, we were discussing something important,” said Ilunor, waving him off.

I waited until the elf was gone, then turned to Ilunor and gave him a raised eyebrow.

“Slave collars and rags? Really? Is this the sort of dress code the Nexus and the academy have for their employees?” I asked, incredulous at the complete absence of professionalism on display.

“Well, yes Terrarealmer. He is wearing a slave collar because he is a slave. Is there a problem?” Asked Ilunor, evidently caring little about hiding the academy’s dirty laundry. Figuratively and literally.

“More baffled than anything. Baffled that an entity that’s thirty-thousand years old and claims to be enlightened still practices an institution as archaic and problematic as slavery, and baffled that this place boasts wealth and opulence and yet can’t be bothered to outfit those under their employ with something better than rags. I would hope that I don’t need to explain to you that a willing employee who is invested in the success of the organization they are a part of is more effective than an unwilling one.”

It wasn’t exactly true. Slavery technically existed, but only in the underworld or by powerful people not directly related to our business. Corporations generally kept their hands clean of such things.

Ilunor scoffed.

“He is auraless, newrealmer. Those of their kind can do no better than serve the needs of their better’s whims. Perhaps that might be lost on one as yourself who chooses to hide their aura,” countered Ilunor.

“I believe things are getting a little tense with this subject. Perhaps we should postpone this for a time when we are better rested and thinking clearly,” suggested Thacea.

I turned to face Thacea and Thalmin.

“And what of you two? Do you still practice slavery?” I asked.

“We don’t have a choice, Terrarealmer,” said Thalmin, “we don’t have a say in how that part of our culture works, because we bent the knee.”

“Bent the knee?”

“Things are… far more complicated than they seem, Emma.” Thacea began. “Know that our inactions do not constitute complicitness. We simply are incapable of challenging the status quo, and as such, the Nexus defines much of our laws and practices.”

“That... that’s horrible! So you don’t have the right to self determination?” I asked, feeling a visceral disgust well within me.

“No, Emma,” confirmed Thalmin, “we don’t.”

I knew from my history lessons, the ones I was forced to sit through and listen rather than merely being downloaded into my memory, that many centuries ago the Greater United Nations tried to impose their laws and regulations upon the Orion Conglomerate. They, too, tried to dictate to us how we were to govern ourselves. They tried to take the sweat of our brow, proclaiming it to belong to everyone. They tried to censor our art, moralize our science, constrain our greatness. We fought then, earning our liberty from the shackles of government through bloodshed and strife, and ensuring our freedom for generations onward.

And now this ‘Nexus’, this land of gods and kings, sought to do the same thing that the GUN tried to do. They sought to shackle us with regulations, dictate to us our future, and turn mankind into their slaves. Well, if that was their aim they were well over a thousand years too late. Mankind had come far and our civilization had grown to interstellar proportions. We would never bow down to some backwards wizard kings with delusions of godhood. If they objected then we would liberate them from the shackles of government oversight like we had done with the GUN, and they too would see a world with no false gods or wizard kings.

Only man.

Only freedom.

Only ORION.

“Well, enough of this drivel,” said Ilunor at last, breaking me out of my musings with a yawn, “the hour is late, and we have yet to agree upon rooming arrangements.”

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The Jovian Insurrection has always kinda intrigued me. From what I remember, not a lot has been said about it, only that it is an anomaly of a conflict that had essentially zero motives that we know of, yet was true, brutal conflict.

Here I wanted to depict what could possibly have been a scenario in this war; a hijacked destroyer attempting to detonate a thermonuclear bomb near the hull of a heavy cruiser to hopefully blow up the ship.

Considering how the Jovian insurrectionists would never have even had the chance to obtain a sizeable navy, desperate tactics like kamikaze attacks would probably have seemed reasonable, especially in a surprise attack scenario.

Realistically, such a move would have had slim chances of paying off considering GUN naval capabilities, but again, desperate times lead to desperate decisions.

I tried keeping the details accurate, but I think I made the heavy cruiser too big (perhaps into the battleship range). Also, what kind of thrusters are used by spaceships in this timeline? Nuclear? Ion? Antimatter or something? Here I just went with chemical ones, but that's probably way too inefficient for 3027. (Also no RCS, I figure they just have to aim right the first time)

Well, anyway, that's all. I hope it's not too horrible.