The rain had thinned to mist, softening the scar the gate had left on the valley. Steam rose in tendrils from wet rock. To any distant drone it was only weather—no evidence that space itself had flexed here hours ago.
Aiden sat in the lee of the tower's carcass, watching drops slide down steel. The System's panel hovered quiet and translucent in front of him, the numbers steady, their silence heavier than noise.
Physique: 419,430.4Spirit: 419,430.4Synchronization: 53%Cycle Reset: 17:42:11
Every tick of the counter doubled his world. Every tick made him less a citizen of Base City and more a fault line running through it.
He looked at his hand, flexed it once, and felt air drag like syrup against the edges of his fingers. He could break mountains by accident soon, if he forgot himself. He smiled without pleasure.
The Gate Fragment pulsed faintly inside his palm, a shard of cold light that wasn't matter so much as an instruction. When he focused, the System translated its pulse into quiet notation:
[Gate Fragment — Primordial Tier]Charge: Dormant (1%)Function: Navigation seed for spatial anchors; incomplete key.Signal Origin: Unknown coordinate cluster labeled Lightless Span.Status: Awaiting comprehension input.
He turned it over between thumb and forefinger. "Awaiting comprehension input," he murmured. "That's your way of saying I have to understand you."
He closed his eyes.
Infinite Comprehension unfolded, the world around him slowing into its lattice of connections. Every droplet's curve, every vibration in the ground, every electron's hesitation became clear. He extended that same patience inward, into the fragment's pattern.
At first, it resisted. The light within was too dense, too folded. But as his breathing aligned with the Primordial rhythm, the fragment softened. Images drifted behind his eyes—shapes of corridors without walls, bridges made of sheer meaning, stairways climbing through darkness into nowhere.
The phrase came to him whole.
"The Lightless Span is not a place. It is the distance between what you know and what you are willing to learn."
The fragment's glow brightened.
[Comprehension input accepted.][Charge: 2% → 5%.][New coordinate resonance unlocked — Subspace Vector 'E-9'.]
Aiden exhaled. The shard steadied, warm now against his skin. "So it listens to thought," he said. "Figures."
He tucked it into the inner pocket of his coat and rose. The rain had stopped completely. The Wild Zone smelled clean, stripped bare by ozone.
He had to go home—not because he feared the Association, but because his parents deserved a few normal evenings before everything changed. He started walking toward the dim gleam of Base City's protective dome.
The city guards at the outer checkpoint barely glanced up when he passed through the scanners. The Silence Spindle made his readings look almost too average. Inside the dome, streets shone with last-night rain. Vendors barked at early commuters. A news drone whispered headlines about trade routes reopening, about the next intake at Aurora Martial University.
Everything looked exactly as he'd left it. He wondered how long that could last.
By the time he reached his street, the sun had cleared the dome's haze. His mother's voice drifted through an open window, humming over breakfast. For a moment he let the sound fill him, simple and unwarped by the scale of what waited beyond the clouds.
He stepped inside.
"Elara?" his mother called, then saw him. "Aiden! You're soaked, again. Where on Blue Star have you been?"
He smiled. "Out running. Needed air."
She frowned but didn't press. "Sit. Eat before you collapse."
His father appeared from the hallway, tie half knotted, a datapad under his arm. "Heard about a flare in the Wild Zone last night. Tell me you weren't anywhere near that mess."
Aiden met his gaze evenly. "Nowhere near," he lied, softly enough that it wasn't quite a lie. He was always near now.
His father nodded, satisfied. "Good. Association's losing drones faster than they can replace them."
They ate. He let the small noises of breakfast fold around him—the scrape of forks, his mother's humming, his father's steady, comforting presence. For half an hour he pretended the world could stay this small.
Then the System chimed in the back of his mind, respectful but insistent.
[Message: External Data Packet Received.][Source: Gate Fragment.][Decrypting...]
Lines of alien script scrolled behind his eyes, transforming into a single, simple map—a set of coordinates pointing west of the continent, beyond the ocean's fractured edge.
The Lightless Span, the fragment whispered, was there.
He set his fork down carefully.
"Everything alright, dear?" his mother asked.
"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Just remembered something I need to take care of for school."
By evening, he was back in the training ward. The Association allowed students access to the public arenas for certification prep, and the wide, reinforced hall was empty except for a few lights humming in the rafters.
He stood in the center, drew a slow breath, and called up his stats.
Physique: 419,430.4 → 838,860.8Spirit: 419,430.4 → 838,860.8Doubling Complete.Energy Output Equivalent: 838 metric tons.
The floor under his feet vibrated just enough to notice. The power was absurd; no human frame should have contained it. Yet the Pattern Sigil and Aegis Loop kept it aligned, his body as calm as still water. His comprehension expanded with it. The systems of his body—the interplay of muscle, energy, thought—moved in perfect agreement.
He wanted to see how far he'd come.
He placed his palm against the arena's test pillar. The scanner blinked once.
[Force Output Limit Exceeded.][Recalibrating Scale...][New Record: 1,522,000 kg.]
He stepped back, breath even. "Guess that's enough for today."
Behind him, footsteps echoed. He turned.
Ronan Drake leaned in the doorway, a smirk half-hidden by the dim light. "Figures. I heard the readings blow past Master-tier and thought, 'who else could it be but Cross'."
Aiden regarded him quietly. Ronan had always been proud, but not cruel—one of the few who trained because he loved it, not because it bought influence. His aura burned bright, steady, disciplined. Aiden almost envied the simplicity.
"Didn't know anyone still trained this late," Aiden said.
"Could say the same to you." Ronan stepped closer, dropping his voice. "Listen. Whatever's going on out there—those flares, the Wild Zone tremors—the Association thinks a rogue cultivator caused them. They're mobilizing."
Aiden tilted his head. "You think it's me?"
Ronan hesitated, then shook his head. "I think you're involved. And I think if you are, you'd better get stronger faster than they do."
Aiden smiled faintly. "That's the plan."
Ronan studied him another moment, then turned toward the exit. "Be careful, Cross. The last time a gate opened, entire cities drowned."
The door closed behind him.
Aiden stood alone in the hum of lights, the echo of Ronan's warning hanging in the air like another line of data waiting for comprehension.
The fragment in his pocket warmed once, pulsing faintly against his chest.
He looked toward the west wall of the arena, toward the unseen ocean beyond the dome.
"Lightless Span," he said quietly. "I'm coming."
Outside, the sky over Base City 5 flickered faintly—not lightning, not aurora, but the afterglow of something watching from far above.
He left before dawn, moving through streets still half asleep. The System had already mapped his route: across the dome's western edge, through the broken shoreline where the old continents had fused, and into the seas that had devoured human ambition once before.
The fragment pulsed in rhythm with his heart, its charge now climbing toward ten percent.
[Next Resonance: 12 hours.]
The adventure that would lead him off Blue Star had begun quietly, with only the sound of his boots on wet pavement and the promise of the horizon ahead.
Behind him, in the city's highest tower, Nyra Voss watched the tracking feed fade. She sipped bitter coffee and whispered to herself, "Run as far as you want, Cross. The Verse is already moving."
And somewhere beyond the sky, in a layer of space where thought had weight, the presence from the Gate turned its attention toward the blue planet and smiled with a thousand unseen eyes.