One month.
That was all it had taken.
In just thirty days, Gamma's "Blue Ocean Tutoring Class" had surged across the entire Thedan Forge World with such speed and dominance that even he found it hard to believe it was real.
It had been too easy.
No arcane policy hurdles.
No back‑breaking taxes.
No competitors trying to steal his idea.
No one interfering.
It was as if every obstacle had politely stepped aside to clear the way for him.
User growth was climbing in a neat, unstoppable line. At this rate, in another month—half a month, even—Blue Ocean would have secured every apprentice in the Forge World with the ability to pay.
The only real crisis in the month was when their rented "Thinker" server—a venerable human‑brain machine maintained by the Temple—nearly collapsed under demand.
Just as the error alarms were screaming, salvation "coincidentally" appeared. An old associate of Magos Lauster had a Thinker array on the verge of retirement. Out of "friendship," he was willing to ship it first and take payment later.
Gamma clapped his hands in delight. "Omnissiah provides!"
He'd assumed some hidden defect was part of the bargain, but when the crate arrived, the array's condition was immaculate—meticulously maintained as if it were new.
Even more suspiciously, when Gamma jokingly suggested paying it off in installments over the year, Lauster waved the idea away and said, "Don't trouble yourself. I'll front the payment. Settle with me whenever you're able."
Gamma agreed aloud, but inside, unease coiled. What was the angle? What little trap was Lauster setting?
Days of thought brought no answer, so Gamma called an emergency session of the "Male Priests Anti‑Magos Lauster Intervention Alliance." Their conclusion? He was overthinking. Maybe the old Magos was simply in a good mood.
Gamma could practically smell treachery. The way they all replied in perfect sync—too smooth, too practiced—it was either a conspiracy or… more overthinking. Still, lately, it felt like everyone around him was hiding something. But what could they all possibly be keeping from him?
Adding to the unease, Lauster's status clearly seemed to be on the rise. High‑ranking Priests—augmented into forms barely recognisable as human—were making frequent visits. And always, they called for Gamma, quizzing him about technical knowledge, prying into what he did in his daily life.
The whole ordeal triggered old wounds from his past life: the childhood shame of being paraded before relatives to "perform" for their entertainment. Even here in the 42nd millennium, that kind of humiliation still stung.
Lauster, of course, used these visits as an excuse to parade the Blue Ocean Project as "Gamma's own genius" in front of the Magi. At first, Gamma was worried—such attention could be dangerous—but over time, he realised he'd misjudged them. For all their metallic shells, these Magos were surprisingly… upright.
---
That realisation prompted him to apologise to Father Jacob one evening at a celebration feast—for Gamma's younger brother Paul's promotion to full Tech‑Priest.
"I was too suspicious," Gamma admitted. "I unfairly assumed the worst of them. They really are virtuous Magos."
Jacob nodded. "You're right."
Gamma frowned. "Jacob, we may be decades apart in age, but I consider us friends."
"Of course."
"And friends should be able to speak openly, as equals."
"That's right."
"So you can't just agree with everything I say because I'm the brains, the decision‑maker, the executor, and investor in the Blue Ocean Project."
"Yes, of course."
"But lately… all I hear from you is 'that's right' or 'yes.' It's depressing!" Gamma slammed the table. The noise silenced the room.
Jacob felt as if rust were grinding in his chest. One small acceptance of a "benefit," and now he was not only complicit but one of the accidental architects of the most widely‑believed rumor about the Fabricator‑General in recent memory. The lie had now reached from the lofty Magos of the Great Temple to the half‑starved slaves shovelling slag in rad‑blasted factories.
In Jacob's mind, even looking at Gamma now felt like standing at the Fabricator‑General's "Dark Assembly Line," waiting for his name to be called. The guilt was suffocating.
"Yes… it's my fault," he said quietly.
"There you go again! Stop just agreeing! Be honest!"
Jacob took a breath. Perhaps confessing would ease this torment. "Gamma, you—"
"Jacob, you idiot! Look what you've done to him!"
Leia's voice cut the air like a servo‑whip. "Louis, don't hold me back, I'm about to teach him a lesson!"
Father Louis wrestled her away, scolding Jacob between attempts to restrain her. "You'd better apologise to Gamma, or we won't let you off!"
Under this bizarre "protection," Jacob never found another chance to explain. Gamma left soon after, heavy‑hearted. Walking back to the Temple beneath Thedan's cold stars, he decided it was simply the price of success—loneliness.
Their eyes earlier had been too staged, their words too false. Where were the bold soldiers and fierce allies of his ambitions? In reality, they'd been replaced by sycophants.
"How lonely… how lonely…" he muttered on the walk back.
---
While Gamma brooded, Jacob was privately summoned and warned: if he acted on impulse again and jeopardised Magos Lauster's "grand plan," he'd be locked in a storage vault, kowtowing for days.
Lauster himself knew the truth would never stay buried, gag order or not. The decree was really a warning—make sure every Priest understood what kind of danger idle gossip now carried.
Investigation was inevitable. Better to put Gamma in the open and let the visiting Magos see him directly. If they resolved the misunderstanding, so much the better. If not, Lauster could at least claim he'd done nothing wrong. He was an outsider anyway—his chances of advancement were slim.
But he hadn't expected the opposite effect.
The first Magos to return from their visit didn't quash the rumors—they amplified them. More and more Magos arrived. And instead of punishment, Lauster found resources pouring into his Temple as if the rumors had been proven true. It was absurd.
It was profitable.
And it scared him half to death.
Because in the tightly‑woven, faction‑ridden hierarchy of the Forge World, outsiders like him rarely got cracks to slip through. For years, the upper tiers had been impenetrable, leaving him muttering criticisms of the Fabricator‑General more out of frustration than strategy. He'd been close to giving up.
And now… this rumor had given him leverage.
A disturbing kind of leverage.
---
Gamma, one of the two fulcrums of this bizarre political windfall, was firmly within Lauster's reach. That was worth using.
So the Magos gathered the ones closest to Gamma: Jacob, Leia, Louis, Paul, and his own daughter. He laid the situation bare.
The four listened in shock. The newest among them, Paul, seemed the calmest—quietly convinced that Gamma was a man destined for extraordinary things.
Leia swallowed. "Father… are you saying that with Gamma, not only can't we control the situation, we can't even understand what's happening? And the future is… entirely unknowable?"
"That's exactly it," Lauster said, patting her arm. "And the reason I called you all is because—if this turns bad—we are the ones who will take the hit. Without question."
"What should we do, Magos?" she asked quickly.
"Right now? Nothing. And prepare a way out."
"What?" Louis blinked.
"When we're not ready, ignorance is safety," Lauster said firmly.
Paul, after a pause, offered, "Why not bring Boss Gamma in? Talk to him directly?"
Jacob's head snapped up. "That's right! Gamma's clever—he might have an answer."
"That's right!" the others echoed.
Lauster thought grimly, This brat. How long has he been here, and already you trust him over me? A Magos? He made a mental note to use his secret stash of Ecclesiarchy relics to "test" Gamma later.
"You fools! I'm worried he's too clever—that he'll take action before we're prepared, or provoke the wrong reaction from the wrong people! Can any of you say you're confident you can predict what Gamma would do?"
"Uh…" The five exchanged guilty looks.
"Exactly. So you keep this from him. Watch for anyone suspicious near him. And when I'm ready… I'll tell him myself."
The five nodded slowly. None of them sensed hostility from Lauster—his reputation for fairness was one reason. More telling, if this had been a plot, he could have easily sown distrust among them privately instead of speaking openly here.
If there were real danger ahead, Leia would never knowingly be exposed to it.
"Understood?"
"Understood, Magos Lauster."