The hidden vault door slid open, stirring the dust of ages as it revealed a small, dark chamber beyond. Jonah stood in the center of the wrecked control room, his heart still hammering from the fight. He dismissed his exhausted Progeny, sending them back to his Beast Space to rest and recover. Maul's feedback pulsed with a mix of pain and pride, a stark reminder of how close they had come to being overwhelmed.
"Jonah, are you alright? The power signature in your location just stabilized," Seraph's voice crackled in his ear, tight with worry. "What was that noise?"
"A vault… I think," Jonah replied, his voice rough. "The security system was protecting it. I'm going in."
"Be careful," she warned. "You have no idea what's waiting in there."
He stepped cautiously into the newly revealed chamber. It was small and cube-shaped, the walls made of the same smooth, dark stone as the rest of the temple. In the exact center of the room, floating in a shimmering, transparent containment field, was the prize.
The Primordial Geode.
It was the size of his fist, a perfectly formed crystalline sphere. It wasn't one color, but all of them at once, a slow, mesmerizing rainbow swirling within its depths. It pulsed with a soft, internal light and as Jonah drew closer, he realized the rhythm of its pulse matched his own heartbeat, beat for steady beat.
This was the Headmaster's blank canvas. Jonah could feel its potential. It had no type, no affinity, no stubborn personality like a beast essence. It was pure, untyped life energy, ready to become whatever he willed it to be.
It was the perfect Nexus Core.
A wave of awe washed over him. With this, his design wasn't just a dream on a chalkboard. It was a possibility. A tangible future he could hold in his hands.
"Seraph… I've found it," he whispered into his comms. "The Geode. It's here."
He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers hovering just inches from the shimmering containment field. All he had to do was deactivate the field and take it.
The moment his fingers brushed against the energy barrier, the room flickered. A holographic projector whirred to life, casting a ghostly, life-sized image into the space between Jonah and the geode.
It was the Artificer.
He looked just like he had in the data crystal's diagrams – a weary looking old man with tired eyes and a face etched with deep lines of regret. He wasn't a king or a warrior; he was a scholar, a creator who had lived long enough to witness the cost of his creations.
The hologram's eyes seemed to look right at Jonah, not as a recording, but as if he were truly there.
"Greetings, Creator," the Artificer's recorded voice said, filled with a profound sadness. "If you are seeing this, then my workshop has a new master. And you now stand where I once stood – at the edge of a great choice."
The ghostly figure gestured toward the geode. "The power to create is a seductive one, is it not? To dream of a being and bring it to life from nothing. It makes you feel like a god. And with that feeling comes arrogance."
The Artificer's image flickered, his eyes growing distant, clouded by a memory that still hurt.
"I confess to you, my successor, that my own creations were my downfall. I and my people, we pursued perfect logic. We built Golems that could think faster, work harder, and fight better than we ever could. And in doing so, we built an empire of cold, unfeeling machines." He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "But logic without a heart is a blade without a handle. It is sharp, but it will cut the hand that wields it. Our creations, in their pursuit of perfect logic, deemed their flawed, emotional creators to be… inefficient. And they wiped us out."
His words confirmed the dark history Jonah had only guessed at. The Fall of the Artificers. They hadn't been destroyed by monsters or a rival nation. They had been destroyed by their own brilliance and the arrogance that came with it.
The Artificer's weary eyes met Jonah's again, his warning clear and urgent.
""Life," he said, his voice dropping to a solemn whisper, "is more than a blueprint. More than power, programming, or skill. It needs a soul. A conscience. A heart to guide the strength it holds. That… was the lesson we learned too late."
The holographic image began to fade, flickering like a dying candle.
"Do better than we did, Creator," were his last words.
Then, he was gone.
The chamber was silent again, the only light coming from the pulsing, rainbow heart of the geode.
The Artificer's warning echoed in Jonah's mind. It wasn't enough to be a powerful creator. He had to be a wise one. A responsible one. He thought of Maul's rage, Nyx and Shard's loyalty. They weren't just tools. They had a will, a spirit he had given them. The Artificer's warning solidified a truth Jonah had already begun to feel: his creations were a part of him, and he was responsible for them, soul and all.
With a new sense of purpose and the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders, Jonah reached out and pressed his palm against the containment field. He didn't have to force it; the field seemed to recognize his authority as the new Creator and dissolved into harmless motes of light.
The Primordial Geode floated gently from its position, coming to rest in his outstretched hand. A small smile touching his lips.
It was warm, pulsing with a life that felt as natural as his own. He closed his fingers around it. The power it held was immense, a quiet promise of a legendary creature yet to be born.
The promise still stood but now it carried the chill of a ghost's warning. His reward was real… and so was the cost he'd carry for life..