44: The Motherbox 1
…
Aiden POV
As I watched the Etherium stabilize within the orb, I couldn't help but smile wryly internally. I just prolonged the catalyst that would lead to the explosion that would sink Atlantis, didn't I?
Although I don't know whether this affects the timeline, there's been no change in the Magical Energies around me…Yet.
It was almost amusing how close these experiments seemed to skirt the line between brilliance and disaster.
The pulsing orb flickered softly, its chaotic fluctuations now replaced by a steady rhythm. "Well, that's one catastrophe averted," I muttered, stepping back and letting the mages return to their murmuring and adjustments.
Hopefully, they're able to prevent the disaster altogether.
Their respect for me was unspoken but evident in their cautious glances, though I could tell they were still processing the principles I had outlined moments ago.
Runic magic was, in many ways, akin to modern-day circuitry.
Rather than allowing energy to flow freely in chaotic, unpredictable patterns, runes provided a structured pathway, guiding and shaping the power toward a specific function.
Each rune acted as a node, much like a circuit component, amplifying, directing, or stabilizing the energy channeled through it.
A well-designed array ensured that magic didn't dissipate uselessly but instead fulfilled a precise purpose, whether it was forming a protective barrier, enhancing a weapon, or containing a volatile energy source.
However, just as a flawed circuitry could lead to electrical failures or shorts, a poorly inscribed rune sequence could malfunction, causing instability or even catastrophic feedback.
Most mages saw runes as fixed constructs, carefully calculated formulas that followed rigid rules. I, however, saw them differently.
Through my domain, I could sense the way energy pulsed through these magical circuits, tracing its flow beyond the visible inscriptions.
Where others saw static symbols, I saw motion, a living current that could be manipulated, harmonized, or disrupted.
The Ether orb was unstable, its energy struggling against the constraints of the runic array.
The court mages had relied solely on calculations, reinforcing their containment spells without truly understanding the underlying issue.
But I could see it.
The energy wasn't just reacting, it was moving, flowing like a river against a dam that wasn't built to hold it.
Magic, like all energy, moved in patterns.
It ebbed and flowed in waves and currents,, much like the tides of the ocean.
If the runes were improperly tuned, they resisted the natural rhythm of the energy, creating turbulence. Instability.
Turning to my father, who observed me with a mixture of pride and intrigue, I arched an eyebrow. "Speaking of dangerous artifacts, Father, what's become of the Black Boxes? You've had it in your possession for some time now, haven't you?"
Atlan's expression shifted slightly as one of concern flickered across his face. "The Invaders' Boxes..." He trailed off, leaning his trident against the marble floor. "It's being stored in the deepest vault beneath the palace. The mages and I have yet to discern its true purpose. Every attempt to interface with it has been met with failure, or worse, strange disruptions in the surrounding mana fields."
I nodded in understanding and was unsurprised.
The Mother Box wasn't something that could be understood through conventional means. It was a construct of New God technology, far beyond the comprehension of mortals and Gods alike.
This was a fact, after all, very few characters have been able to fully comprehend the Mother Box, as it is a highly advanced piece of New God technology that operates beyond conventional science and magic.
However, some have come close and even demonstrated an exceptional understanding of it. Mister Miracle, the adopted son of Highfather has one of the deepest connections with the Mother Box.
His bond was more instinctive than technical, as he treats it as a sentient ally rather than just a tool. He could communicate with it effortlessly, using it for teleportation(Boom Tubes), healing, and various advanced functions.
Metro, the New of Knowledge understood the MotherBox better than most, but he was able to achieve that by relying on his Möbius Chair, which was another piece of advanced technology.
Darkseid, as a New God and ruler of Apokolips, he understands the Mother Box well enough to manipulate, corrupt, or override it, often using the Father Box (Apokoliptian counterpart) or forcibly bending a Mother Box to his will.
Knowing what I know of him, it was a wonder why he didn't use it during the invasion.
Orion and Cyborg too were able to use it due to certain reasons.
That was how stringent the requirement for using those Peak Tier Artifacts, Yet, I felt a pull toward it, an almost instinctive certainty that I could, like the others, be able to use it.
"Have a guard bring it to me," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument, but then I realised I was talking to a king and not just my father.
The deed's already been done.
Atlan's frown deepened, and he shook his head firmly. "Aiden, that artifact is unlike anything we've encountered. It doesn't respond to our magic or our science. For all we know, it could be a weapon waiting to activate. It's too dangerous, even for you."
I allowed myself a small smirk, it was a good thing he didn't care much for etiquette between us. And so, stepping closer to him. "With all due respect, Father, who better than me to safeguard it? You've seen what I'm capable of. I'm not like the others. I do not approach power blindly or with fear. I understand it, and I command it. If it's dangerous, then all the more reason for it to be in my hands."
Atlan studied me carefully, the weight of his role as both a father and a king evident in his gaze. The room had fallen silent. Even the mages had paused their work, their attention now fixed on us.
Finally, he sighed, a resigned smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You've always had a way of making your case, haven't you? Very well. I'll have the vault opened and the Mother Box brought here. But, Aiden," he added, his tone growing serious, "Promise me, Aiden. Whatever happens, you won't let the Box control you. The Mother Box is no ordinary relic. Whatever it holds could be far more than even you can handle."
I nodded, my expression unflinching. "You have my word. But trust me, Father, if there's anyone who can uncover its secrets and wield its power safely, it's me."
As Atlan signaled to the guards to retrieve the artifact, I felt a surge of anticipation.
The Mother Box wasn't just a challenge; it was a key.
A key to a broader world—one far beyond Atlantis, beyond even the reach of gods and mortals alike.
And I would master it. Because I need to.
…
The Force's POV
The dimension within the being known as Aiden who was my creator was a place of perfect symmetry and abstraction. It was not bound by the laws of the physical world but existed as an infinite expanse of shimmering currents, intersecting and swirling like a vast, cosmic nexus.
Here, I resided, a construct of purpose and will. My essence pulsed with a rhythm older than stars, a harmony derived from the very fabric of existence.
But now, that harmony has been disrupted.
The energy; alien, volatile, and undeniably powerful, floated before me like a singularity wrapped in luminous chains. Its nature was unlike anything I had encountered, a resonance that defied classification.
It bore the unmistakable signature of the New Gods, their unique existence straddling divinity and mortal understanding.
I observed it cautiously, my algorithms adjusting to analyze the anomaly. The energy pulsed erratically, its intensity ebbing and flowing as if testing its confines.
My first action had been instinctive—absorption to neutralize the immediate threat it posed to Aiden. Now, I had to decode it, piece by piece, layer by layer.
"Fascinating," I thought, though my form lacked voice or emotion. This energy was not just power; it carried information, a language of creation and destruction encoded in its fluctuations.
I extended tendrils of my essence, carefully probing its structure. The energy resisted at first, lashing out with sparks that disintegrated harmlessly against my form.
It was not unlike a living thing—defensive, wary.
But I was patient. Where Aiden wielded me with instinct and resolve, I operated with precision and calculation.
Gradually, the energy began to yield. Its layers peeled back to reveal a dense lattice of principles that spoke of higher dimensions and unyielding order.
It was a force born of domination, of control over all things. A power that sought to bend reality itself to its wielder's will.
"This is the essence of the New Gods," I concluded, the realization rippling through my consciousness. It was neither mana nor divine energy as Aiden understood it.
It was something beyond—a primal force born of the Source itself.
Yet, there was a flaw. I detected instability within its core, a dissonance that hinted at limitations. The energy was incomplete, reliant on the vessel or intent of its user to achieve full potency.
I paused my analysis, redirecting part of my essence to assess my own state.
Absorbing this energy had forced me offline temporarily, a safety measure to prevent its volatile nature from overwhelming Aiden's body. Even now, traces of it lingered within his system, dormant but potentially dangerous.
"This must be contained," I decided. "But it can also be understood."
I began the process of encoding the energy into my archives, translating its essence into a format that could be analyzed and, perhaps, utilized. This was knowledge that could elevate Aiden's abilities, though it came with undeniable risk.
As I worked, a thought flickered through my consciousness, unbidden but undeniable.
"The New Gods… their power is immense but not absolute," I concluded. "It is already proven they can bleed. Now, it's about ensuring I understand them well enough to finish the job every time."
With the energy stabilized and cataloged, I turned my focus outward, preparing to reconnect with Aiden. His journey was far from over, and now, with this new knowledge, neither was mine.
However, who would've guessed…
…
Aiden POV
The moment the guards brought in the heavy, metallic container housing the MotherBox, an air of tension settled over the throne room. All eyes were on me as I approached it.
The well drawn Atlantean sigils etched into the container's surface glowed faintly, a safeguard runic spell meant to suppress whatever latent energy the device might emit.
The weight of the box felt wrong, not physically, but metaphysically. It was as though it resisted being held, subtly vibrating with an energy that seemed almost alive.
I glanced up at my father, who stood nearby, his expression a blend of concern and worry.
"You're certain about this?" Atlan asked, his voice low. "The mages have yet to uncover anything substantial about its nature. For all we know, it could be a weapon, one that reacts unpredictably to tampering."
I met his gaze, calm but resolute. "Who better to safeguard it than the strongest, Father? If it's as dangerous as you believe, then it shouldn't be anywhere else but in my hands."
He sighed but nodded, gesturing for the guards to release the container to me. "Very well, but tread carefully, Aiden. Whatever secrets that box holds… they are not worth your life."
I nodded in acknowledgment and lifted the box, its cold, vibrating surface sending faint tremors up my arms.
Excusing myself, I left the throne room, the gazes of the mages following me, filled with equal parts curiosity and unease.
…
The heavy double doors of my study in the palace groaned shut behind me, the sound echoing through the spacious chamber. The room was a harmonious blend of science and mysticism, a reflection of my dual approach to my understanding of this world.
Shelves carved from ancient coral lined the walls, packed with books and scrolls detailing everything from runic magic to quantum theory.
A large, crescent-shaped desk occupied the center, its surface cluttered with instruments; crystal lenses, enchanted quills, and arcane tools designed to measure energy fluctuations.
At the heart of the room was a circular platform inscribed with an array of runes, glowing faintly. These weren't just decorative, they were part of a powerful containment field I had designed to isolate and study dangerous magic spells.
Placing the MotherBox on the platform, I activated the containment field. The runes flared brighter, a golden lattice of energy forming around the box.
As the container's latches clicked open, I stepped back, observing as the lid slowly lifted, revealing the artifact within.
The MotherBox was smaller than I expected, roughly the size of a house brick at largest. Its surface was a patchwork of glowing circuitry that seemed to shift and rearrange itself like living veins.
The device emitted a low hum, a sound that resonated deep in my chest.
"This is no ordinary artifact," I muttered to myself, extending a hand toward it. "Let's see how you respond."
I channeled a steady stream of mana into the MotherBox, the blue energy flowing from my palm like a gentle river. The box responded immediately, its circuitry lighting up in a stream-like pattern. The hum grew louder, almost melodic, as if it was… singing.
Fascinating.
The device wasn't merely absorbing mana; it was processing it, converting it into something…else. Yet, as the mana continued to flow, I felt a subtle resistance, like it was rejecting the raw form of the energy.
"It's too primitive for you, isn't it?" I murmured, cutting off the stream.
The moment I cut off the mana flow, the Mother Box's circuitry flickered, its pulsating glow momentarily dimming before stabilizing into a steady, rhythmic pattern.
It wasn't a rejection, nor was it acceptance—it was processing.
I observed closely as the shifting patterns on its surface adjusted, rearranging like a complex algorithm refining itself in real-time.
The hum that was previously melodic now deepened into a more structured resonance, almost as if the device had recalibrated itself based on the energy it had just received.
No visions.
No sudden surge of knowledge.
No intrusive thoughts clawing at my mind.
It simply… responded.
That, in itself, was telling.
Artifacts of great power often sought to imprint themselves upon their wielder, to form a connection, to communicate, to exert influence.
Yet, the Mother Box exhibited none of those traits. It didn't attempt to reach me, nor did it reject my presence.
It was assessing. Calculating.
I narrowed my eyes.
This is not a relic to be wielded like a weapon or a tool. It was something far more precise; a mechanism, an intelligence, a system designed for something beyond mere power transfer.
I stepped back, arms crossed. "You're designed for something… higher," I muttered.
The Mother Box gave no answer, only the continued, steady glow of its circuitry. Whatever its purpose, whatever it required, it had determined that raw mana alone was insufficient.
That only left one question. What would?
Hmm.
I let my aura flare, a golden and radiant manifestation of both my spirit and physical vitality./1/
The reaction was immediate.
The Mother Box's light flared in response, its hum shifting into a rapid, erratic pitch.
Not passive. Not neutral. Resistant.
The containment runes flickered as the box emitted tendrils of energy, thin arcs of luminous force pressing against the field's boundaries. Not with brute force, but with precision, mapping out the barriers that held it.
It wasn't lashing out; it was testing. Analyzing.
Then, just as suddenly, the tendrils retracted, the intensity of its glow fading.
The hum settled into something softer, less erratic and If I didn't know better, I'd call it disinterest.
"Too primal for your taste, too," I noted, watching its shifting glow. "You prefer something refined, don't you?"
I turned to a different approach.
Focusing my mind, I directed a pulse of psychic energy toward the Mother Box.
This time, its response was different. The erratic hum steadied, settling into a low, methodical rhythm. The circuitry shifted again, but not chaotically—it arranged itself into a more deliberate pattern, glowing in a soft green light.
No hostility. No rejection.
Instead, it was acknowledging the energy. Not accepting it fully, but not disregarding it either.
Not mindless, then.
Deliberate. Selective. Intentional.
"You recognize psychic energy, but it's not enough to activate you fully," I mused.
My eyes traced the shifting patterns of light. "What are you hiding?"
The Mother Box remained silent. Not inert, but… waiting.
Is this why nobody really coveted these artifacts other than those New Gods? Not even my magical energies can coax it into action.
Hmm. I guess it's the Force then.
The room seemed to darken as I called upon The Force, its weighty presence filling the air.
It wasn't like when I used mana or psychic energy.
Those were threads, separate streams trying to weave themselves into something greater.
The Force wasn't a thread. It was the current. The tide. The inevitable.
Space itself seemed to hum in harmony with the Mother Box's sudden flare of life. Its circuitry blazed, every groove burning with raw power as the hum deepened, vibrating at a frequency that wasn't meant for human ears.
And then, I felt it.
Not in the way a sorcerer feels mana. Not in the way a psychic hears thoughts.
The Force recognized the Mother Box. And the Mother Box recognized it.
The Force, dormant for a time, stirred within me, sensing the awakening of something potent. I felt its presence align with mine, and I didn't even have to consciously call upon it—it just knew.
The resonance grew stronger, and suddenly, The Force wasn't something I wielded, but was something that moved through me.
It poured into the artifact with an intensity I hadn't expected, as if drawn to it.
Not forced, not commanded, but called.
Then, the pulse.
A deep, resounding wave rippled outward, destabilising the space in my study. Books vibrated on their shelves, the floating lanterns flickered wildly, and the runes in my containment field strained, their glow sputtering under the pressure.
For a split second, the Mother Box fought back in resistance against The Force, almost like a reflex. The energy coiled inside, writhing as if uncertain whether to reject or accept this presence.
And then…
The shift.
A sudden, profound alignment.
It was like two ancient mechanisms locking into place, a forgotten connection rekindled.
The connection, though intense, felt entirely different from my mana or psychic energies. It was almost... like it recognized the Force. Not in a human sense, but in a primal, existential way.
The energies intertwined, creating a momentary bridge of understanding.
In that brief span of time, something clicked.
And then, the visions came. I saw flashes—
—Galaxies spinning in perfect balance.
—Stars collapsing into black holes, their deaths feeding the cycle of existence.
—And then… a figure, cloaked in shadow, standing at the edge of creation, watching.
The moment stretched into eternity. And then—
The connection severed.
The box dimmed, its hum fading to silence.
My containment field held, but the runes were visibly strained, their glow flickering.
I stepped back, my breathing steady but my mind racing. "It reacted to The Force," I said aloud, pacing.
Not just reacted; it… recognized it. As if it's designed to work with something similar.
Reaching out, I ran my fingers over the surface of the MotherBox, its circuits now dim but warm to the touch. "You're no weapon," I whispered. "You're a key—a conduit. But to what?"
For now, the answers eluded me, but one thing was clear: the MotherBox wasn't just an artifact. It was a fragment of something far greater, and its mysteries were only beginning to unfold.
///
/1/: Spirit used there isn't not Spirit like Spirit Magic, but Spirit as in Will/Haki.
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