The year between Aureus's fifth and sixth birthday did not pass; it ground itself into dust against the iron will of his ambition.
To the court of Solgrad, it was a year of wonder. The First Prince was a prodigy of decorum and intellect, a golden child who absorbed history and theory with frightening speed. To King Valerius, it was a year of quiet relief; the "sickness" his son had sensed seemed dormant, and the secret project beneath the palace remained a silent, preventative measure.
To Aureus, it was three hundred and sixty-five days of calculated agony.
He sat in the center of the Mana Observation Array, the brass rings spinning in a blur of motion. He was six years old. His body had grown, shedding the softness of a toddler for the lean, wiry definition of a child athlete, but his internal structure, his Mana Circuit, had evolved into something else entirely.
'Cycle 4,000. Complete.'
He exhaled, a plume of white steam escaping his lips despite the ambient warmth of the chamber. The pain was no longer a sharp spike; it was a constant, dull roar in his veins, the feeling of a river trying to force its way through a straw.
For a year, he had engaged in Hyper-Conditioning, using the Solar Coherence of his Trait to forcibly expand his channels, tearing them open microscopically and letting Regal Regeneration knit them back together instantly.
It was a brutal, visceral process of self-cannibalization and rebirth.
"Show me my status." he croaked, his voice hoarse.
The crystalline display on the wall flickered, the jagged waveform stabilizing into a readout that would have terrified a standard Academy instructor.
[Target Status: Pre-Awakening / Latent][Density Equivalent: Tier I (Novitiate) - Peak Saturation][Channel Elasticity: 94% above Human Baseline][Regeneration Efficiency: Tier III (Adept) Equivalent]
A grim satisfaction settled in his chest.
Tier I Peak.
He had maximized the capacity of the Novitiate Rank while still unawakened. His raw density was now pushing against the biological ceiling of his age. He was a loaded cannon, the powder packed so tight it threatened to crack the barrel.
'Still not enough…' his internal monologue countered coldly. 'Valerian Aetherus is only five years old. He is still innocent, still living in luxury. But the clock is ticking. The flaw that destroys his family is manifesting now, years before history recorded it.'
He stood up, his legs trembling slightly before locking into place. The duality of his life was becoming a razor's edge. By night, he was this, a sweating, groaning monster of ambition forging a god-tier foundation in the dark. By day, he was the serene, radiant Prince.
He left the chamber, the heavy iron door sealing the hum of power behind him. He washed quickly, scrubbing the smell of ozone and sweat from his skin, replacing it with the scent of royal lavender. He donned his velvet doublet, composed his features into the mask of serene intensity, and ascended the stairs to the upper palace.
It was time for his other job.
The Royal Gardens were bathed in the afternoon sun, but for the four-year-old Celestine Solaris, the sun didn't truly rise until her brother arrived.
She was sitting on a marble bench, surrounded by nervous maids who were trying to interest her in a doll. When Aureus stepped into the garden, she dropped the toy instantly.
"Brother!"
She didn't toddle anymore; she ran, her movements graceful for her age, her silver-blonde hair flying behind her like a banner. She slammed into his legs, burying her face in his stomach.
Aureus looked down, a surge of fierce, protective warmth flooding his chest. This wasn't just a strategy; this was his sister. In the original story, she was destined to be lonely, misunderstood, and eventually saved by a stranger. Aureus held her tight, vowing that she would never know that loneliness.
He was her teacher, her protector, and her only source of genuine, unfiltered affection. The King and Queen loved her, but they were distant figures of state. Aureus was immediate. He was here.
He knelt, bringing his face level with hers. He didn't smile broadly; he offered her the Radiant Warmth — that addictive, physical projection of safety that only his [Sacred Aetheric Conduit] could produce.
"Celestine," he said softly. "You were waiting."
"You were gone," she accused, her blue eyes wet. She gripped his doublet, her small knuckles white. "You were in the dark place again. The cold place."
Aureus felt a flicker of surprise. 'Her intuition is growing.'
Even without training, her Light affinity was reacting to the residual "coldness" of the deep earth where his chamber lay, or perhaps the scent of the void-touched mana he was studying.
"I go to the dark," Aureus whispered, brushing a stray hair from her forehead, "so that the dark never comes to you."
It was a melodramatic line, perfect for a webnovel protagonist, but on a four-year-old girl, it worked like a binding spell. Her eyes widened, the fear replaced by awe and a deepening, terrifying dependency.
"You keep it away?" she asked.
"Always," he vowed, engaging the full force of his gaze. "I am the wall, Celestine. Nothing crosses me to get to you."
He projected a pulse of Regal Regeneration into her, a subtle transfer of vitality that washed away her childish anxiety and replaced it with a drug-like sense of peace. He saw her pupils dilate slightly, her body relaxing completely against him. She was addicted to his safety.
'Good,' he thought, feeling a profound satisfaction. 'Valerian Aetherus will try to save you from loneliness in ten years. But he will find no isolation here. He will find a life filled entirely by me.'
"Come," he said, standing up and taking her hand gently. "The tutors are waiting. Today, we learn about the Veridian Concord."
"The Concord?" she asked, tilting her head.
"They are the Pillars," Aureus corrected gently. "The Elves, the Dwarves, the Beastkin. You must know who stands with us to hold up the sky. You must understand the weight of the crown we will share."
He led her away, the maids trailing behind, whispering about the prince's unearthly devotion.
But as he walked, a sudden, sharp sensation pierced his skull. It wasn't pain; it was a shudder.
It came from beneath his feet, from the deep earth, vibrating through the soles of his boots. It wasn't a physical earthquake. It was a nausea of the soul, a momentary wrongness in the geometry of the world.
The Flicker.
It was stronger than before. Much stronger.
Aureus stopped. The time for peace was over.
He knelt down again, turning Celestine to face him. He smoothed her collar, his expression apologetic and tender.
"Celestine," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"But... the lesson?" she asked, her lip trembling, clutching his sleeve. "You said we would walk."
"I know," Aureus soothed, brushing her hair back. "But I have to go help father with something boring. It can't wait."
He smiled, projecting a wave of comforting warmth to ease her disappointment. "Go with Nanny Elara. She'll take you to the library. I'll come find you before you sleep, and we'll finish the story. Okay?"
He waited until she nodded, pacified by his promise, before standing and gesturing to the Royal Nanny. The woman hurried forward, taking the Princess's hand.
"Take her inside," Aureus ordered quietly. "Keep her away from the East Wing windows."
Only when Celestine was safely walking away, glancing back once to check if he was watching (he was), did his face harden into the mask of a royal.
"Lord Lysander," Aureus said, his voice dropping the gentle tone, returning to absolute command.
The Steward materialized from the shadows of the colonnade, where he had been waiting. "Your Highness?"
"The 'flicker' has become a tremor," Aureus stated, his amber eyes burning. "The timeline has accelerated. Prepare the carriage. The Spacial Gate Stability Crisis has begun."
…
Aureus descended the hidden stairs, the heavy stone muffling the sounds of the palace above. The serene, protective brother who had just kissed Celestine's forehead was gone. In his place was the First Prince, a creature of cold calculation and terrifying urgency.
As he approached the iron door of his secret facility, he didn't need to unlock it to know what was happening inside. The hum of the Mana Observation Array was no longer a rhythmic heartbeat; it was a jagged, erratic whine, vibrating through the Grade-Seven Tantalum walls.
He threw the door open.
The chamber was awash in angry, pulsing red light. The brass rings of the scanner, usually spinning in a harmonious sphere, were oscillating wildly, fighting against their own magnetic suspensions. The air tasted of ozone and sour milk — the sensory byproduct of Dimensional Instability.
"Report." Aureus commanded, his voice cutting through the mechanical shrieking.
He stepped onto the central platform, ignoring the way the ambient mana bit at his skin. He looked up at the crystalline display wall. It was split into two distinct feeds — a feature he had specifically ordered Lysander to implement.
On the left was the "Official Feed". It tapped into the public mana monitoring network of Lumina City, relaying the data from the standard Dwarven scanners stationed at the Royal Artificer Yards.
[Official Feed: Royal Spacial Gate Project][Mana Volume: High (Stable)][Flow Rate: Optimal][System Status: GREEN]
Aureus sneered. 'Green.' To the Royal Mages and Volund Aether-Hand, the massive energy surge looked like peak performance. They saw a roaring river and assumed it was healthy because it was full.
He looked to the right, at his "Custom Feed" — the data from his A-Rank Purity Sensors.
[Custom Feed: Local Aetheric Stability][Mana Purity: Corrupted][Dimensional Variance: CRITICAL (Spiking)][Structural Integrity: 12% and Falling][System Status: CATASTROPHIC FAILURE IMMINENT]
"There it is," Aureus whispered. "The Optimization Paradox."
It was the fatal flaw of the Veridian Concord laid bare in glowing runes. The Dwarves had optimized their machines to filter out "noise" to get a cleaner reading of power volume. But the "noise" they were filtering was the sound of the world tearing apart.
Aureus manipulated the controls, zooming in on the waveform. The signature was unmistakable. It wasn't just a random malfunction; it was a harmonic resonance cascade. The new Spacial Gate wasn't just failing to open a path; it was actively chewing through the dimensional fabric, creating a localized vacuum that would eventually implode, taking the entire Artificer Yard, and Bronwyn, with it.
He watched the "Dimensional Variance" line climb higher.
'This is the same signature,' he realized, a chill running down his spine. 'This is the exact same flaw that destroys the Aetherus Duchy in the original timeline.'
But there was a difference. In the original novel, the Aetherus disaster happened when Valerian was seven, two years from now. This tremor was premature. Perhaps Volund Aether-Hand, driven by the King's increased funding or pressure, had pushed the schedule forward. Or perhaps the Dimensional Instability itself was accelerating, reacting to the growing darkness in the world.
Whatever the cause, the result was a golden opportunity disguised as a disaster.
If the Gate collapsed now, Volund would be ruined. The Dwarves would retreat in shame or anger. The alliance would fracture.
But if Aureus intervened...
He looked at the red line. He didn't just see danger; he saw leverage. He saw Bronwyn Aether-Hand, the future genius of Magitech, owing him her life. He saw Volund, the stubborn leader of the Guilds, forced to bow to a six-year-old's superior insight.
"Record." Aureus ordered the array.
The machine whirred, etching the dual data streams onto a permanent memory crystal. This was his evidence. This was the proof that the King's technology was blind, and the prince's eyes were open. He pulled the warm, glowing crystal from the console and tucked it into his belt.
He turned to leave, but paused. The vibrations in the floor were getting stronger. The "flicker" he had felt in the garden was becoming a "thud", the sound of reality hammering against a locked door.
'They have minutes,' his tactical mind assessed. 'Maybe less.'
He couldn't send a messenger. A messenger would be stopped by guards, delayed by protocol, or dismissed by arrogant engineers who pointed at their "Green" screens and laughed.
He had to be there. He had to be the Solar Anchor.
Aureus exited the chamber, his face set in stone. He moved through the wine cellar, ascending the stairs two at a time. The physical conditioning of the last year paid off; he didn't wind, he didn't stumble. His body was a tightly coiled spring of Tier I Peak density.
He burst into the upper corridor, where Lord Lysander was pacing nervously, having secured the perimeter as ordered.
"Your Highness?" Lysander asked, seeing the memory crystal at Aureus's belt and the grim set of his jaw. "The sensors?"
"The machine screams what the Dwarves cannot hear," Aureus said, his voice echoing in the stone hallway. "The Gate is not opening, Lysander. It is unravelling."
He didn't stop walking, forcing the Steward to scramble to keep up.
"The Royal Artificer Yards," Aureus commanded. "Now."
…
"The Spacial Gate Stability Crisis has begun."
The words hung in the cool air of the colonnade, heavy with the weight of prophecy. Lord Lysander, despite having spent the last year managing the secret construction of the chamber and witnessing the prince's terrifying growth, still felt a chill whenever Aureus dropped the mask of the child.
"The Royal Artificer Yards," Lysander repeated, his mind racing through logistics. "Your Highness, the Yards are a restricted zone during stress testing. Volund Aether-Hand has sealed the perimeter. If we arrive without the King's direct warrant, the Guild guards may refuse entry. And if we alert the King now..."
"If we alert the King, he will convene a council," Aureus cut in, striding toward the palace carriage house. "He will ask for reports. He will consult the Royal Mages. And by the time they finish clearing their throats, the Gate will have imploded."
Aureus signalled a pair of Royal Guards stationed at the archway. They snapped to attention, surprised to see the young Prince marching with such purpose.
"We do not need a warrant," Aureus said, his voice pitching up slightly, adopting the imperious, spoiled tone of a pampered royal child, a mask he wore to manipulate the public. "We need a whim."
He turned to the guards. "Captain! Prepare the Royal Carriage. I wish to see the big machine. Now."
The Captain blinked. "Your Highness? You mean… the Artificer Yards? It is not a place for—"
"I am the prince!" Aureus stomped his foot, channelling the perfect image of a petulant six-year-old, though his eyes remained coldly calculating, locking onto Lysander. "My father pays for it with gold. I want to see it sparkle! Lord Lysander says it is ready!"
He threw Lysander a look that clearly said: Play along or perish.
Lysander stepped forward, smoothing his robes, masking his terror with bureaucratic arrogance. "The prince insists on an impromptu inspection of the Crown's investments, Captain. It is a... lesson in economics. We require an immediate escort. Speed is of the essence; after all, the prince's schedule is tight."
The Captain, faced with a tantruming heir and the Head Steward, crumbled. "At once, My Lords."
…
Minutes later, the Royal Carriage was thundering through Lumina City. Aureus sat rigid, fighting the nausea of the Dimensional Instability.
"It is getting worse," Aureus whispered. "The Gate is built of Grade-Six alloys designed for laminar flow. But the Instability is a tidal wave of broken glass. The containment runes won't just fail, Lysander. They will shatter."
"If that Gate collapses," Aureus said quietly, "it won't be an explosion. It will be a localized dimensional shear. It will delete the Yards. It will delete Volund. And it will likely take the surrounding three city blocks with it."
"We run toward the fire, Lysander. Because I am the only one who carries water."
The carriage lurched. They rounded the final corner, the massive iron gates of the Royal Artificer Yards looming ahead.
Aureus kicked the door open and jumped down. The ground beneath him gave a violent, sickening lurch — The Thud.
Beyond the gates, the massive metallic ring of the Spacial Gate was visible. It wasn't glowing with the steady blue light of stable mana. It was strobing, violent flashes of jagged violet lightning arcing from the frame.
"Open the gates!" Aureus commanded. He pushed past the stunned guards, marching into the yard, toward the epicenter of the disaster. The "Show Stealer" had arrived. And the stage was already collapsing.