Dawnsreach sanctum
Stuart Domain, AKA Bastion Pass
Sol Continent
Terra, Gaea, solar system
Luminary star sector
Milky Way Galaxy
21st Vetraeus cycle, 50 New Solaris Prime
Emily watched in silence as Ginny adjusted the Mystical goggles on her face, the lenses glowing faintly as they focused on the armored automaton before them. The intricate gears and mechanisms of the automaton hummed softly in the still air, its polished surface reflecting the dim light from the torches lining the dungeon walls. The sense of ancient craftsmanship emanated from it, though it felt far beyond the reach of ordinary creation.
Ginny's hands moved with precision, her fingers tracing the joints and seams of the machine, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she pieced together the secrets hidden in its form. The goggles, powered by an arcane energy, scanned and analyzed the automaton's intricate design, revealing a network of runes and enchantments that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. It was a breathtaking sight—mechanical and mystical in harmony.
Emily stood just behind her, her gaze lingering on Ginny's movements with a mixture of awe and frustration. As a master crafter, Emily had spent years honing her skills, carving and forging with materials both mundane and magical. Her understanding of Crafthood had made her a skilled artisan, able to imbue items with power and create objects of great utility. But this was different. This wasn't mere crafting—it was something more.
Droid engineering, as Ginny had once called it, was a field that had always eluded Emily's grasp. It went far beyond the bounds of traditional crafting, merging mechanical artistry with a depth of magic that was almost like Creation magic itself. Only the most gifted, those with an innate understanding of both the material and the ethereal, could venture into this realm where life could be artificially crafted. It was a kind of mastery Emily had yet to touch, and she could feel the weight of that limitation pressing on her.
Despite her years of training, Emily found herself in awe of Ginny's expertise. She could see it in the way Ginny handled the automaton—like a symphony conductor coaxing life from an instrument far older and more complex than anything Emily had encountered. This was not merely a machine. It was a marvel, a piece of forgotten history. And somehow, Ginny seemed to be unlocking its secrets piece by piece. Emily let out a quiet breath, acknowledging her own limitations but also a spark of admiration for Ginny.
"Incredible," Ginny breathed, her voice tinged with awe. "This...this is beyond anything I've seen."
"What do you mean?" Emily asked, her curiosity piqued.
Ginny's eyes widened as she took in the automaton once more, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate markings along its armored form. "This level of technology—it rivals that of the Federation's," she muttered, her tone a mix of disbelief and fascination. "How is it possible for something that looks so ancient to possess technology on par with the most advanced systems we have today?"
Emily blinked in shock, struggling to wrap her mind around what Ginny was implying. The Divine Federation was a galactic powerhouse, known for its cutting-edge technology. It was a force to be reckoned with across the stars, its innovation rivaling even the Ganymede Empire, a technocratic society famed for its own technological prowess. To hear Ginny suggest that something from an ancient era of Terra—long forgotten by most—could compare to the Federation's might was nothing short of astonishing.
Ginny leaned in closer, her hands moving across the automaton's surface with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. "This metal... it's unlike anything I've encountered," she murmured. "It seems to be composed of nanoscale materials, seamlessly interwoven at a molecular level. Each rune... it's not just an inscription. It's part of a self-sustaining system, woven together like a living magical system. This is beyond even my understanding." Her voice faltered slightly, the weight of the discovery sinking in.
Emily's mind raced as she tried to process Ginny's words. Her gaze fell on the automaton once more, the glow of its runes flickering as though the machine itself was alive. "So you don't know how it was made?" Emily asked, her voice tinged with doubt.
Ginny paused, her fingers hovering over the automaton's surface as if uncertain whether to delve deeper into its mysteries. "No... but," she began, her expression hardening as she glanced up at Emily, "I can tell you this: you were lucky to get rid of it when you did. From what I've observed, this automaton has a built-in feature—it's capable of adapting, of evolving. The more it learns, the more it changes. This could have gotten dangerous."
Emily's brow furrowed as the implications of Ginny's words sank in. "Are you saying it could have become self-aware?" she asked, the weight of the thought settling over her like a heavy fog.
Ginny nodded gravely, her voice low with the gravity of what she was suggesting. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
The Automaton—the ninth race—has the potential for far more than simple mechanical function. They weren't like the other races. They were not organic creatures as they were built from inorganic substances, metals and alloys. But their evolution were a slow, generational process. The second generation, the Droids, were little more than complex machines, programmed to execute specific tasks. But the third generation—their descendants—became sentient, self-aware. They achieved what was known as artificial intelligence, and with that, they transcended their original programming.
Emily stared at the automaton in a new light, her mind whirling with the possibility of what it could become. The implications were staggering. If this was truly one of the early models of such a sentient race, what kind of power, intelligence, or even consciousness could it have reached? A chill ran down her spine.
"I dare say it might have achieved Ascendance, given time," Ginny remarked, her voice distant as she removed her goggles, the lenses fading to a dull glow. She exhaled a long breath, clearly lost in thought. "You should go ahead with your plans; this might take me some time to analyze fully."
"Fine," Emily replied, her voice laced with resignation. "Just send me a message if you make any breakthroughs."
Ginny nodded absently, engrossed in the data streams flashing across her monitors. Emily turned and made her way out of the lab, heading toward the familiar walls of the Dawnsreach abode. The door to her living room slid open, revealing the soft glow of ambient light and the comforting presence of her personal space. She let her white jacket fall from her shoulders, carelessly tossing it across a nearby chair before walking toward the bar at the far end of the room. Shelves lined with bottles of various spirits and liquor caught the light, and Emily's gaze lingered on them for a moment before she reached for one.
Her fingers moved with a practiced ease as she poured herself a drink, the liquid catching the light in a fleeting shimmer. She stared at the amber fluid swirling in the glass, her mind far from the present. Emily took a long sip, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her, but it did little to soothe the weight she carried.
She thought back to the Federation—the place that had once been home. She had been banished fifty years ago alongside Leon, and while her resentment for Terra had been fierce, something had kept her from leaving when the Exile was lifted. Leon had returned to the Federation, but Emily had remained behind. She had chosen to stay, to witness the birth of a new era, to lend her hand to Sam in the effort to help the Terrans navigate the tumultuous challenges that had emerged with their awakening. Despite her efforts, despite her involvement in shaping the future of Terra, Emily could feel her connection to the Federation thinning with each passing day.
Once, she had fought alongside the greatest warriors of the galaxy, hunting Abominations as a Paladin, but her focus had shifted. Instead of wielding a blade, she had turned to the art of crafting—her skills honing as she worked closely with Sam and Ginny. Together, they had forged new paths and new technologies, and through their collaboration, Emily had begun to realize something about herself. She was more than just a warrior. She had always known there was more, but it was only now that the weight of it all was starting to sink in.
The battle with the automaton, where she had tapped into her ability factor, had shaken something deep within her. There was something strange stirring inside, a shift she couldn't ignore. Emily poured herself another drink, and then another, as the thoughts continued to swirl and the silence in the room thickened.
Eventually, the weight of the realization was too much to bear. She had to confront the changes within herself to understand what was happening. She set the glass down with a firm resolve and walked toward the center of the room, closing her eyes. The space around her seemed to shift as she sank into her Soul realm.
It felt like falling through an endless void, the sensation of weightlessness taking hold as she descended into the depths. The nothingness stretched around her like an infinite abyss. But then, as if by some unseen force, orbs of light began to flicker into existence, their ethereal glow gently illuminating the emptiness around her. The darkness seemed to recede, revealing a new domain, a place that seemed to exist outside the boundaries of time.
Before her eyes, a vast expanse stretched endlessly in every direction, a realm suspended between two worlds. The sky above smoldered with the dying embers of a sun that never fully set, casting an orange glow over the horizon, where the creeping tendrils of twilight curled in to shroud the land in an eternal dusk. It was a space caught between the delicate threshold of day and night, neither fully one nor the other.
All around her, countless orbs floated serenely in the air, their forms delicate and mesmerizing. Some shimmered with a warm golden light, their glow soft and inviting, like distant stars. These orbs seemed to speak of serenity, hope, and forgotten dreams, their gentle radiance offering a comfort she hadn't realized she needed. Yet, there were others—dark and pulsing with an eerie, unsettling energy. These orbs throbbed with shadows, their faint glow casting fleeting glimpses of hidden sorrow and power not yet realized. The air around them felt heavier, their presence more potent, almost suffocating in its depth.
Emily stood still, allowing the full weight of the scene to unfold around her, as the orbs danced in their eternal motion. She couldn't escape the sense that the domain was alive in some way—that it was part of her, reflecting the very essence of her soul. Here, in the quiet space between light and dark, she could feel the stirrings of something ancient, something deep within her that was beginning to wake.
Within the countless orbs floating around her, Emily could see figures suspended inside, each bathed either in light or in darkness. The soft glow of the orbs reflected the weight of their occupants' experiences, each one carrying a life, a memory, a fate that was now bound to this ethereal space. Emily had known her Soul realm well, or at least, she had before Terra. Since her arrival on this planet, something had begun to shift—a subtle, almost imperceptible change in the very fabric of her soul's domain.
Her mind drifted back, searching for the moment when the change began. It was after her first death experience. The memory of Freya Lughter's blade, cold and unrelenting, stabbing deep into her and leaving her to die in an abandoned lab, still haunted her. That was the moment Emily had felt real pain, the kind of pain that twisted her insides and made her question everything.
Had she truly died? The thought lingered. She had never asked herself how she had managed to reach out mentally to Leon, to call for him in her last moments, or how he had come to rescue her. The questions remained unanswered, buried in the turmoil of that day. And then there was the fight with Lance Al'Roth, where she had once again found herself on the edge of death, only to somehow survive. Another death, another strange resurrection.
The memory of the battle in the Echo field resurfaced. Sam had been the target of a fatal blow, but Emily had stepped in the way, taking the full force of the attack. The blow should have killed her, but it didn't. Or perhaps it had, and somehow, just like before, Emily had come back. She didn't know. She had never truly understood it.
As her gaze fell upon the orbs once more, Emily began to study the figures within them more closely. And that's when it hit her—these weren't just random souls. These were people she had killed. She recognized them, each face sending a shockwave of realization through her.
Nabu.
The Agent from Sector Zero. The one who had killed Stella, Sam's aunt. The one she had killed with Freya's help. Emily hadn't realized it at the time, but there had been a change within her after she had slain him. She had felt it—a shift deep inside, a ripple through her very being. But so much had been happening then, and she hadn't allowed herself to reflect on it.
Now, as she stared at Nabu's lifeless form within the orb, she couldn't help but notice how little he had changed. His features were the same, but his eyes—those once calculating eyes—were dull, empty, like those of a doll with no life.
But then, her attention was drawn to another orb. This one... this one was different. Her heart skipped a beat as she focused on it. A crippling pain shot through her chest, so intense that she nearly doubled over. The space around her began to quake, as if the very air itself was boiling in response to her concentration. Bubbles of energy formed around her, distorting the space, the more she focused on the figure within the orb.
It was as if she knew this person, a memory just out of reach, hidden in the deepest recesses of her mind. The more she tried to remember, the sharper the pain became. And then, the realization struck her with the force of a physical blow: the figure inside the orb was the only one glowing.
The figure was young, almost a child—no more than nine or ten. Her hair was dark russet, the same shade as Emily's own. But that was where the resemblance ended. Emily's hand reached out, drawn to the orb as if compelled by an unseen force. She could feel the unbearable pull of the memory, and just as her fingers grazed the surface, something grabbed her arm from behind.
Whipping around in shock, Emily found herself face-to-face with Leon—or so she thought. The figure standing there resembled him, but something was wrong. His eyes, though familiar, held an otherworldly glint, and the air around him hummed with a strange energy.
"Leon?" Emily whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"I am not Leon," the figure replied, his voice far too cold, far too... spectral. "I am... ????" The words that followed were spoken in a language Emily couldn't understand, a guttural tone that made her skin crawl.
"What?" Emily's confusion deepened. "I didn't catch that."
The spectral figure raised his hand in a dismissive gesture. "It seems your mind is not yet ready to accept the truth," he said, his voice soft, almost regretful. "Very well, just know that I am the Codex."
"Codex..." Emily repeated, her thoughts spinning. "Why do you look like Leon?"
The Codex smiled, a thin, enigmatic expression. "I took this form due to the familiarity you have with it," he explained, his form flickering slightly, like a reflection in disturbed water. He released her arm and snapped his fingers.
In an instant, Emily was thrown violently out of her Soul realm, the familiar, ethereal domain vanishing in an overwhelming flash of light. She gasped, her body jerking upright as she was thrust back into the real world. Her surroundings came into focus, and she blinked, disoriented. How had she been expelled so abruptly?
Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, a rotating grey cube appeared in the air before her, materializing out of nothing. It hovered in place, its surfaces shifting as it gathered atmospheric mana, the air around it crackling with energy. The cube began to absorb the mana, its colors changing, the surface resembling a Rubik's cube being solved in real-time.
And then, the spectral figure appeared once more—this time, no longer resembling Leon. The entity now took the form of a young woman, with silver blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and a round, chubby face. The lower half of her body shimmered and faded into clouds, as if she were only half-formed, drifting between realities.
Emily took an instinctive step back, her heart racing. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded, her voice rising in a mix of fear and disbelief.
"That's what I'm supposed to be asking you," the young woman replied, her voice echoing with an eerie calmness.
"What are you?" Emily asked, her voice steady despite the chaos swirling within her. She took a slow breath, centering herself, forcing her emotions into stillness. Her heart raced, but she had learned long ago that panic would serve her no purpose. Calmness was her weapon now.
"You may call me Nocturne," the girl replied, her voice a mixture of calm and quiet authority. She stood before Emily, her form shifting slightly in the ether, as if not fully grounded in the reality before them. "I am a living, self-adapting grimoire, created by you, ?????" The last part of her words were swallowed by an intense, sharp pain that stabbed into Emily's ear, cutting off the rest of the sentence.
Emily winced at the pain, instinctively reaching up to her ear as the sharp sensation reverberated within her skull. Nocturne, observing her discomfort, raised an eyebrow, her expression one of mild curiosity. It seemed like she was about to speak again, but instead, she seemed to hold her words back. "It's the second time I've said something you couldn't hear, isn't it? Your mind... it can't process my true name," Nocturne said with a hint of bemusement. "That's why I've used a second name—one your mind can handle."
"What did you call me?" Emily's voice was low but firm, her brow furrowing as she fought to maintain control over the overwhelming influx of information.
"Nothing," Nocturne replied casually, with a dismissive wave. "You go by Emily, don't you?"
"Yes," Emily said, though the answer seemed odd, like she was already losing track of something deeper.
"Well, Emily," Nocturne continued, her tone shifting to something far more serious. "I am your grimoire, born from your soul realm."
Emily blinked in disbelief. "I've never heard of grimoires being born," she said, her voice laced with confusion. "Or grimoires that look like... a cube." She hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she drew a blade from her dimensional band, its sleek edge gleaming in the dim light. Without another thought, she swung the blade toward Nocturne's neck.
But instead of the satisfying resistance she expected, the blade passed through Nocturne's form as if she were made of mist. There was no blood, no reaction—just an eerie, hollow passage of steel through empty air.
"Don't bother," Nocturne said, her tone almost patronizing. "I'm just a projection. My real body is within that cube, and that cube is bonded to your soul. Destroying it would only damage your soul, not mine."
Emily felt a chill crawl down her spine as her senses told her that Nocturne was speaking the truth. There was a strange connection between herself and the cube—she could feel it now, like an invisible thread tugging at the core of her being.
"What kind of grimoire are you?" Emily asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Grimoires don't have self-awareness..."
"The kind of grimoire that is the highest grade possible—the Divine grade," Nocturne said with quiet pride. "I am an intelligent being, much like most intelligent weapons of the divine grade. I possess my own ego, my own purpose. I strive to maintain it... Hmm, this is interesting." Nocturne paused, looking up as though speaking more to herself than to Emily. "It seems the natural laws of this universe are fragile. Is that why you're not awake yet?"
Emily couldn't help but feel like the girl was speaking about something far beyond her comprehension—like she was more an observer in her own life, unable to fully grasp the implications of what was happening.
Normally, someone would be in a full-blown panic at the discovery of a weird object originating from their soul, but Emily wasn't most people. She was still processing the reality of what was unfolding when Nocturne's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Don't put that away," Nocturne said, her tone sharp, almost like a command. "What happened to your killing senses? Can't you sense the enemies out there?"
Emily froze, her instincts kicking in. Without hesitation, she expanded her Internal senses, immediately tapping into the currents of energy that surrounded her. It was subtle at first, just a faint pressure in the air, but as she concentrated, the presence of hostility became undeniable.
There were others nearby—hidden, waiting. The faint but unmistakable killing intentions brushed against her mind, emanating from the very shadows themselves. As she honed in on the sources of the threat, the shadows began to move, flickering like living things. Figures emerged from the darkness, cloaked in tenebrous garments that radiated a suffocating, ominous aura. Their faces were obscured by masks that seemed to pulse with darkness, eyes like black holes leaking shadows.
How was this possible? How had they breached the Dawnsreach Sanctum? Emily's mind raced. The Sanctum, her sanctuary in the sky above the Sol continent, was protected by some of the most formidable barriers and security systems known to exist. Only the most powerful would be able to breach its defenses. Yet here they were—five assassins, each circling her with lethal intent.
Nocturne had disappeared, leaving only the lingering presence of her voice within Emily's mind. "Hmm... Interesting," Nocturne's voice echoed, almost detached. "Their cultivation appears to be in the Harmonization stage, but something feels off."
"What doesn't feel right?" Emily asked, her voice calm, though her eyes remained fixed on the encroaching assassins. She could feel the weight of their presence, each of them closing in on her with a purpose.
"Their foundation seems... fluid," Nocturne mused. "No, not fluid. But it's not as sturdy as it should be for those at the Sage realm." There was a pause before she added, almost as an afterthought, "Does this have something to do with the fragile laws of this universe? It's all so interesting."
One of the assassins moved first, a flash of obsidian steel slicing through the air toward Emily's face. In a heartbeat, she leaned back, the blade missing her by a hair. Instinctively, Emily sprang into action, her combat art activating as she began to dance through the oncoming attacks. More flashes of obsidian followed, but Emily moved with fluid precision, her body a blur as she weaved between strikes.
Each assassin moved with the intent to kill, but Emily was faster, more focused. The blades sliced through the air, but Emily's speed and agility allowed her to evade their deadly arcs. The clash of steel rang out, but each attack that was meant for her met only air. She danced around the blades, her every movement deliberate, each step taking her closer to the perfect counter.
Emily's combat art, Dancing Twilight, was a fluid dance of precision and deadly grace, comprised of four distinct forms, each tailored to different combat scenarios. The first two forms were Twilight Waltz and Eclipse Requiem. Twilight Waltz was designed for close combat, dominating the field with swift, seamless attacks. Eclipse Requiem, on the other hand, was built for counterattacks and precision strikes, allowing the practitioner to read and counter the flow of an opponent's movements.
Now, as the assassins closed in, Emily called upon Eclipse Requiem, the second form of Dancing Twilight. Her mind sharpened, her focus narrowing as she began to read the flow of their attacks. Their movements were fast—blindingly quick, their deadly intent palpable. The air was thick with the pressure of their aura, a tangible force meant to subdue and kill. But in the face of such overwhelming danger, Emily's gaze hardened. A cold determination settled in her eyes. She didn't flinch. She didn't hesitate.
Her twin blades—crafted from mythical materials—danced through the air, their edges flashing like streaks of silver light. Each blade parried the obsidian blades aimed at her with effortless grace, the strikes that would have torn apart anyone else met only air, a flawless counter every time.
The assassins were caught off guard. They had underestimated her, thinking that someone at the Master Realm—especially one as young as Emily—would be no match for them. They were wrong. Each of them was at the middle tiers of the Sage Realm, their experience and skill far beyond what one might expect from that stage. But Emily, a Master Realm expert, made their attacks seem like nothing—like the strikes of amateurs.
One assassin, the first to attack, increased the tempo of his movements, his aura expanding, pressing down on Emily in an attempt to overwhelm her. But Emily was unshaken. She shifted seamlessly into the first form, Twilight Waltz, her blades flashing as they slashed through the air, cutting with relentless fluidity. The assassin's heart sank as he saw the blades coming from every angle, the precision of the strikes impossible to avoid. His defensive posture crumbled beneath the force of the attack, and the blades tore through him like a storm, cleaving through his body with deadly certainty.
Blood sprayed into the air—a mixture of Emily's and the assassin's—as the onslaught continued. Despite her speed and skill, Emily was not invulnerable. Some of the assassins' blades found their mark, leaving deep gashes along her skin. Poisoned tips seethed as they punctured her flesh, the venom seeping into her bloodstream, threatening to cripple her.
Emily's eyes darkened, growing colder by the second. The air around her seemed to drop in temperature, as if her very presence was draining the warmth from the room. With a fluid motion, she entered the third form of Dancing Twilight—a form focused on mid-range assault and deception. Her blades shimmered with an ethereal light, and in the blink of an eye, she merged the second and third forms, combining their devastating effects into a seamless, deadly dance.
Two assassins were sent flying, their bodies lifted by the sheer force of Emily's ethereal blades. The blades cut through their defenses like paper, cleaving through them with barely a resistance. Emily's twin blades hummed with power as she unleashed a simple yet powerful aura technique. A crescent-shaped slash, formed from a condensed mystical art formula, sliced through the body of the third assassin with surgical precision.
But the battle was far from over. Two assassins remained, their obsidian blades aimed at Emily's front and back. Without hesitation, Emily accessed one of her special techniques, the Dancing Twilight—Hush Zone: Falling Dusk Blade.
A veil of inky darkness descended over the room, suffocating the light and cutting off all sensory input. The assassins' connection to reality was severed, their vision, hearing, and even sense of touch obliterated. The world around them ceased to exist as the darkness consumed everything. And then, in an instant, the veil was gone, and Emily was standing at the center of the room.
She gripped one assassin by the throat, her fingers tightening with unrelenting force, lifting him off the ground. His body jerked as she applied pressure, but Emily wasn't finished. With her Odic force, she began to probe his mind, pushing through the walls of his defenses. She needed answers. But as she reached deeper into his psyche, she felt the resistance—strong, protective, and unyielding.
Without hesitation, Emily crushed the assassin's windpipe, silencing him forever. She let his lifeless body drop to the floor, her eyes scanning the room for the remaining threat. The second assassin lay on the ground, his body riddled with deep slashes, as though he had been shredded by a thousand blades. Emily had not spared him.
Her breath was steady, her pulse quickening only slightly as the adrenaline surged through her veins. Her mind, however, was already calculating, analyzing, trying to understand the meaning of all this—why they were here, how they had breached the Sanctum, and what it all meant. But before she could delve deeper into her thoughts, something broke through the glass door of the room with a deafening crash.
An arrow—black and vicious—pierced through her side with a sickening force. The impact sent her flying backward, her body crashing into the far wall, her vision blurring from the sudden shock. The force of the blow left her stunned, her body wracked with pain as the world around her spun.