Chương 398: New Coordinates

The moment Jeeves delivered the code, the warm, comfortable peace of the dining hall was shattered. I didn't waste a single millisecond. I engaged [Void Emperor's Omnipresence], my physical coordinates translating through the sub-layers of the void before Anna could even ask her next question. I appeared at the southern border of Bastion's quadrant, hovering three miles above the dark basalt plains.

My star-cores were spinning in a maximum, defensive tempo, wreathed in the unbending authority of the [Crown of Pride]. But as my [Void-Lattice Perception] scanned the local space, the frantic alarm in my mind died. The signature radiating from the anomaly wasn't a hostile, external incursion. It carried the silent, uncompiled silver-lead frequency of the Plinth-Born Aethel.

"False alarm, Jeeves," I projected through the Spires' network, my voice level and calm.

"Cancel the defensive rotation. It's just Aion. It wasn't a threat that bypassed our veils; he's just doing something... chaotic."

"Understood, Master," Jeeves' voice returned, a slow, relieved sigh of static following the words.

"I shall stand down the security golem units." I descended toward the basalt plain. Aion was standing in the center of a dry, volcanic canyon, his silver-lead frame wreathed in a massive, swirling tempest of uncompiled wind and kinetic-gravity. He was holding his long, four-jointed hands raised toward the sky, his chest-core pulsing with a violent, erratic frequency that was riling the local mana into a state of absolute chaos. As I landed on the basalt stone, he slowly turned his mirror-face toward me.

The two vibrant, blue-light eyes behind the polished metal flared with a strange, emotional intensity. I could have sworn, in that silent second, that the silver-lead construct looked alive and almost… sad.

"I remember this place, Sovereign," Aion whispered, his telepathic voice carrying the dry, hollow rasp of an old record.

"The... the frequency of this planet's crust. It carries the exact same weight as the sanctuary my Master built before we fled."

"What are you doing, Aion?" I asked, walking toward the edge of his tempest.

"An allied faction of ours flagged this as a spatial tear. You're turning the local mana into a storm."

"I am scrying," Aion explained, his fingers tracing a complex, uncompiled rune in the howling wind.

"The signatures of the Sunder-Kin are buried beneath millenia of System integration, Sovereign. They are too silent to be detected by standard means. To find them, we must rile the local mana to its limit." The logic behind it was interesting. It was like shattering a block of raw kinetic-crystal within a violent, uncompiled tempest, using the micro-refractions of the scattering crystal-dust to map the invisible contours of the wind.

By turning the local environment into a chaotic storm, any hidden, uncompiled signatures would be forced to reveal their coordinates as they resisted the kinetic friction. I watched him for a long time, my [Void-Lattice Perception] analyzing the process. The sheer volume of mana he was expending was staggering, the volcanic canyon wreathed in a beautiful, terrifying storm of blue-violet lightning and spatial-shears.

Instead of deploying my Domain to block the wild, overflowing mana, I unleashed [The Void-Star's Hunger]. My shadow expanded across the basalt floor, systematically consuming the volatile, overflowing gravity-waves, converting the essence directly into my secondary batteries. As I watched the storm, I felt a strange, quiet resonance. The uncompiled mana itself seemed to show emotion in a way — like an old, fractured memory trying to reassemble its pieces within the wind.

"There," I murmured, my optical cores flaring with a black-and-crimson starlight. Deep within the swirling blue-violet lightning, a faint, unfamiliar signature pulsed. It was incredibly thin, wreathed in a silent, un-systemic frequency that was completely detached from the local Lattice. I had to maximize my omnipresence and focus my perception to its absolute limit just to feel it.

"Aion," I called out.

"The northern flank. I've got a trace." The sentinel's blue eyes flared with a sudden, ecstatic light.

"The... the Master's signature!" With a frantic, joyful desperation, Aion accelerated the storm, his silver-lead fingers drawing dozens of uncompiled runes in the air to isolate the coordinate. Once the raw mana-friction reached its peak, the silver-violet signature stabilized, and Aion's chest-core gave a loud, resonant thump. He raised his hand, projecting a three-dimensional, highly vivid vision directly into my mind. The vision was incredibly detailed.

I saw the shadowed figure from my visions, although he was much weaker than the ancient godking I had encountered on the basalt throne. He had just pushed into the ninth Tier of Ascension, his newly wreathed Domain hummed with a quiet, unrestrained spatial-authority. He was standing in a ruined, plague-ridden settlement of primitive humans on some forgotten, unintegrated world. He didn't speak, but his posture was wreathed in a quiet, beautiful kindness.

He raised his hand, letting a pristine, golden thread of a healing mana flow into the poisoned water supply of the village. The golden light didn't use System-magic; it was a primordial, almost Samsaric healing that systematically rejected the concept of the poison, restoring the dying flesh of the people to absolute, vibrant wholeness. Stolen novel; please report.

It was an act of quiet, divine benevolence, resembling the ancient myths of Earth's gods — like teaching early tribes how to heal and survive, or denying the laws of death, their reactions to his deeds reminiscent of how the Earth refugees were heralded and worshipped. But as I watched the vision, the coordinates suddenly sheared. The ruined settlement and the primitive humans vanished, the reality of the vision rewriting itself into the majestic, lightless basalt throne room of my previous dreams.

The white dwarf star cast its cold, distant glow across the monumental reliefs, and sitting upon the high-backed throne was the Master. He looked up right away this time, his eclipsing eyes of starless black and arterial crimson fire locking onto mine. My newly refined Humming Veil stealth allowed me to maintain my coordinates, and I used my subtle, veiled perception to analyze his presence with a clinical, quiet focus. He was unfathomably dense.

The conceptual weight of his soul-gate was a physical pressure that made the basalt pillars of the chamber vibrate, but I was able to place his power level. He was definitely past the twelfth Tier. A Transcendent with Primordial Affinities and Origin abilities.

"You have returned quicker than expected, Void born," the man's voice echoed in my head, a low, structured rumble that carried a soft, patient amusement.

"That is not something that usually happens, considering I expect when most things will."

"Are you a diviner?" I asked, my telepathic projection calm and level.

"A Time-related Hybrid Primordial?" The entity casually laughed — a soft, glass-chime sound that carried the chill of the deep void.

"A Primordial is merely a title, Eren Kai. It is a rank assigned by the new Structures to those who help them run their little sandboxes. I do not run on their systems."

"Then why do I keep seeing you?" I asked, taking a step forward.

"Who are you, and what do you want from me?"

"We are connected by soul, traveler," he whispered, his deep hood shifting.

"The scratches on your prism carry the geometry of my own. That is all you need to know for this cycle. You have already met with some of my Line."

"The Void Emperors of G-42-Epsilon?" I asked.

"The Wards of the Deep?"

"Some call them that," the man smiled.

"And Vespera?" I pressed.

"Who is she?" The cloaked figure's eyes softened, a faint, nostalgic warmth flaring behind his hood.

"Vespera... that name brings me back to simpler days. I do know her. She was only a baby then. A small, starry spark we found in an ocean of darkness." Suddenly, the world went completely still. The cold, distant glow of the white dwarf star froze, the tumbling dust-motes in the air stopping mid-motion. Time itself seemed to refuse to move, the entire basalt chamber locked in an absolute, suffocating stasis.

"The Judges monitor the conceptual boundaries of the System," the man's voice turned serious, a sudden, urgent gravity wreathed in his words.

"The raw noise of our connection is creating a massive ripple in their database. It's time for you to leave, Eren Kai, otherwise they might hear our frequency."

"Who are they?" I asked.

"I know you have many questions," he whispered, his form beginning to dissolve into a cloud of silent, dark mist as the vision began to tear.

"But trust your Soul. It will open the path. The ink is already drying." The vision shattered, yanking my consciousness back to the basalt plain of Bastion. The howling tempest had died, the uncompiled void-mana settling back into a quiet, serene stasis. I stood in the volcanic canyon, my boots resting on the dark basalt. Aion was standing before me, his blue-light eyes staring at my face with an intense, quiet desperation.

"Have... have you seen him, Sovereign?" I nodded slowly, adjusting my cloak.

"I saw him, Aion. He was... different than I remembered but it was him." Aion's chest-core gave a loud, resonant thump, his silver-lead frame trembling with an absolute, grateful relief.

"The Master has always been alive. He is waiting in the dark. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you succeed, Sovereign Eren. Because that is what the Master desires." I looked at him, my mind running through a dozen defensive calculations.

"Who is your "master"? What exactly does he want? And what are we supposed to succeed at?" The sentinel stood silent, his mirror-face rippling, but he refused to elaborate further. The wall of veiling blocking his memory was absolute, refusing to answer any deeper inquiry or show any tells or signs I could take advantage of. I let out a slow, analytical breath. I didn't like mysteries, and I didn't like players I couldn't scan.

Aion's loyalty was useful, but I had to make sure he wasn't carrying a hidden directive that could threaten Ferra.

"Aion," I said, reaching into my subspace and pulling out a small, blank scroll of soul-steel.

"I need you to sign this. It is a direct soul-bound contract of loyalty. It's not like the one I had you already sign. It will link our soul gates directly, bypassing any System or uncompiled firewalls." Aion didn't hesitate. He raised his long, four-jointed finger, drawing a single, glowing violet rune on the steel. The scroll dissolved into a shower of silver-motes, locking our souls into a binding, conceptual agreement of absolute, unbending loyalty.

I watched the silver motes settle into his chest-core, a genuine, relieved smile finding its way onto my lips. I was finally sure he wasn't plotting behind my back. We returned to the Sanctum, where the core team was still waiting in the dining hall.

"It wasn't an intruder," I told Anna and Lucas, handing my dust-covered cloak to Jeeves.

"It was just Aion conducting a very advanced, very noisy spatial sweep on the southern border. The anomaly is cleared." Jeeves offered a polite, dry bow.

"A relief, Master. I have already stopped our security teams and deactivated our legions." Anna looked at me, her silver eyes scanning my face with a quiet, knowing intensity.

"Did you find something else, Eren?"

"A coordinate," I smiled, my star-cores slowing to a quiet, steady hum.

"And a confirmation." I spent the next hour preparing our gear. I docked ten high-energy Sigil-Echoes into my silos, wove my newly refined Temporal Slide into a passive, always running state, allowing it to constantly "simulate" the immediate futures as I practiced, and stood before the Eastern Spire alongside Aion.

"Alright," I said, turning to him as the portal flared with violet light.

"Let's go, Aion. We have a lead to follow." We stepped through the gate, disappearing into the dark void, ready to see what the first star system was hiding.