The grind became a rhythm, a pulse that defined my nights. Refill on electricity, convert to mana, rip open a portal, step in, step out, let it collapse. It was mindless, repetitive, and utterly glorious. With each cycle, a tiny sliver of experience filled the progress bar for [Dungeon Creation].
[Through repeated application, [Dungeon Creation] Lvl. 5 -> Lvl. 6!]
"The energy signature is stabilizing," I observed, collapsing another portal. "It feels... cleaner now. Less like tearing something and more like opening a door."
"But it's not zero," I said, a calculated grin spreading across my face. "It's still a ripple. Big enough to be noticed by anyone who's looking for that sort of thing."
"As I'll ever be," I replied, smoothing down my jacket. This wasn't an accident. It was an invitation. I needed to grow, to learn, and there was no greater library of the esoteric in this world than Kamar-Taj. But they wouldn't just open their doors to a stranger. I had to make them come to me. I had to become an anomaly they couldn't ignore.
I was in the middle of another cycle, letting the familiar shimmer of the portal cast an ethereal glow across the forge, when the air changed. The scent of ozone and hot metal was suddenly replaced by the clean, crisp aroma of sandalwood and old parchment. The low, resonant hum of the Synapse server abruptly ceased, plunging the workshop into a profound and unnatural silence.
Showtime.
I turned slowly, as if surprised, my hands held open in a non-threatening gesture. A circle of brilliant, golden sparks ignited in the air, spinning and widening into a shimmering gateway. A figure in simple, elegant robes of ochre and saffron stepped through as if walking from one room to another. The portal snapped shut behind her.
It was the Ancient One. Up close, she was even more imposing than I had imagined. Serene, ancient, and radiating a power that made my own thrumming EP feel like a flickering candle next to a star.
"[Observe]!" I thought, just to confirm.
Name: ???
Level: ???
Title: Sorcerer Supreme
Status: Intrigued, Wary.
Okay, she's here. Stick to the plan.
She took a slow, deliberate look around my workshop, her gaze lingering on the now-silent Synapse server before settling on me. Her expression was one of calm, detached curiosity, like a biologist examining a creature that shouldn't exist.
"You have been... busy," she said, her voice a soft, melodic hum.
"You could say that," I replied, my new, deeper voice steady and respectful. I met her gaze without flinching. "I've been practicing."
A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. "Your 'practice' has been causing quite a stir in the quieter corners of reality, Mr. Sterling." She knew my name. Of course, she did. "For weeks, it was like a child repeatedly smashing a rock against a stained-glass window. Brute force. Ugly." Her eyes held mine, and the pressure was immense. "I have unmade stars for lesser transgressions."
A cold dread washed over me, the bravado of my plan feeling paper-thin in the face of her casual threat. [Gamer's Mind]kept the terror from showing on my face, but I understood my position with perfect clarity. I wasn't negotiating. I was trying to justify my own existence.
"I'm a metahuman," I said, offering the prepared cover story. "My abilities are... unconventional. I don't have a teacher, so I've been forced to learn through trial and error."
"There are no evil powers, only evil intent," she mused, her gaze intensifying, as if she were looking past my eyes and directly into my soul. "And your intent... is a maelstrom. I see the meek man you were. And I see the boundless, rapacious ambition of the man you wish to become. You do not seek to save the world, nor do you seek to burn it. You seek to become... 'unfuckable'."
She had read the name of my quest. The intimacy of the violation was staggering.
"You are an anomaly," she continued, her tone dangerously even. "My first instinct, my duty, is to excise such anomalies before they become a cancer on reality. Erase you. A simple, clean solution."
This was my opening, my only one. "Would it be?" I countered, my voice firm despite the terror. "You'd be leaving my power, this... anomaly... untethered. A cosmic ghost. Isn't it better to understand a variable than to simply delete it? I'm chaotic because I'm ignorant. I'm a danger because I don't know the rules."
I gestured around my workshop. "In my own field, I can learn. I can build. But with this power, I am operating in the dark. An uncontrolled power of my magnitude is a threat to everything. A trained one... a guided one... could be an asset."
I looked her directly in the eye, laying my cards on the table. "Don't eliminate me. Judge me. Teach me control. Let me learn the rules before I accidentally break them for good."
Her gaze was heavy, ancient, and deeply analytical. She saw the ambition, the desperation, and the core of logic in my plea. She was not deciding on a policy; she was making a personal judgment on a single, volatile soul.
"Your power is an unwritten page, Alexander Sterling," she said finally. "The words you choose to write upon it will determine if you are a story worth reading, or a warning to be burned."
She turned, and the air behind her began to spark again. "You are not a sorcerer. You will not be a student. But you may be a guest at Kamar-Taj. You will be given access to our libraries. You will learn of the forces you so carelessly toy with. And you will be under my direct supervision. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I breathed, the relief so potent it almost buckled my knees.
"We will be in contact," she said as the golden portal spun into existence. "Try not to break our reality before your orientation."
She stepped through and vanished. The air returned to normal, and the Synapse server hummed back to life.
I stood frozen for a full minute, a slow, shaky smile spreading across my face. I had done it. I had faced the abyss and talked my way out.