The New World

Spear peered up before tilting his head, “I…I see you’ve grown in size. However, I doubt that goes for the will or direction of your mind.”

I stepped up to his tear in dimensions, ripping it further to my size. As I stepped through, I raised my brow, “We’ll see.”

Pulling my helmet over my face, I readied myself to see a piece of the galaxy’s might. I stepped onto a panel of graphene, mirroring an Overseer’s plating. Spear followed behind me, letting the dimensional rip close shut behind us. As it did, Spear seethed,

“We know something is amiss. Your guild carries unsystematized territory. There’s one reason for that; you’re performing illegal activities. Know that we will uncover exactly what it is after this war with Elysium is over.”

I frowned, “You know, that might take a while since I’m not there to speed things along.”

Spear sheathed his dimensional slicer along his back, the magnet keeping the lance against him. He simmered, “Your confidence has broadened into arrogance. When you see the others under Schema’s wing, you will tremble. All have. All will.”

Keeping what he said in mind, I looked around. His portal opened into a smooth hallway without any plating. Only glowing lines of plasma offered light, their impressions faint. As I stepped in, I lightened. Keeping one of my hands through the dimensional opening, I peered around. I murmured, “Where do we go from here, exactly? This place looks empty.”

Spear hopped over the veil, and I watched him walk off. Where he landed, bright blue plasma crisscrossed outwards with geometric lines spreading over every surface. It pulsed beneath the smooth plating, bringing the dead expanse to life. The writhing plasma threatened to crack out of the tunnel’s walls at any moment, but it stayed contained.

Spear’s casual walk demonstrated how reliable this gray plating was. The Sentinel lifted his hand, several starry portals opening in the hallway. Spear raised his arms to them, “The system recognizes you as a dimension, but these are true microcosms, and Schema holds them within this vessel for his many purposes. The council’s meeting place is within one of these spaces.”

I stepped out into the vast hallway, letting the warp snap shut behind me. I let my foot tap the floor, sensing the mana within. This place fluctuated with an unbounded quantity of energy. The portals exposed a dozen different worlds, not warps, but disconnected spaces made for and by Schema. Why the AI isolated those spaces, I didn’t know.

What I did know was this whole place exuded a futuristic simplicity that exhibited wealth and power. It wasn’t power in the usual sense, either. Instead of showing rare resources or outright luxury, Schema displayed strange technologies. This shuttle housed no doors, no sense of up or down within its walls. It carried no gravity either, being a blank canvas.

Despite that, an undeniable awareness spread over me. This place carried a wealth of secrets underneath its surface. Wanting to explore, I stopped using my gravity wells, allowing my mass to float in the shuttle. After experiencing the loss of levity, I hovered myself along, Spear walking with his boots keeping him grounded.

This gray expanse rose far into the distance, large as a mountain in all directions. Blank. Nothingness. Without the warps, this would be a warehouse in space. Somehow, an ambient light kept everything well seen despite the lack of lamps, torches, or any lighting really. It was another mystery.

Everywhere Spear touched, the listless gray sprung to life, the architecture responding to him. The Sentinel turned towards a wall. A starry portal opening further, and he walked into it. A bit nervous, I followed while keeping a section of my hand out in case it was a trap. Stepping into an identical hallway, the pulsing energy below offered light above like before.

Unlike the previous space, Spear pointed towards a doorway with two mana pits beside it. This new shuttle used crystallized mana for lighting, a demonstration of power. It reminded me of our guild’s aesthetic, actually. The Sentinel to my side waved his hand in frustration, “Come. Walk.”

Sensing no danger, I hopped through the new dimensional opening. Pacing into the tiny dimension, I stretched out with the Rise of Eden, wondering if it placed a different strain on this place. It did. My dimensional wake incited a whirling, aching tremble from the tiny pocket dimension.

Spear noticed nothing, the disruption purely metaphysical. Maybe because I was a dimension, it stood out to me. Regardless of the reason, the sensation strengthened when I stretched out Event Horizon to its greatest extent. By then, the dimension wailed. I pulled the aura back, unsettled by how alive the space felt to me.

We reached the crystallized mana lamps, and as we did, another warp opened nearby. From it, a purple, hulking beast made of miasma stepped out. Its eyes widened, the only expressions on its otherwise sharpened point of a face. Those pale oculi turned to me, and it stared through me.

My pulse heightened, a bit of nervousness shooting up my spine. The entity linked with my mind, and it ebbed through like a distant echo, “I…You are the Harbinger…You fought the golden one…Impressive.”

I raised a hand, “Thanks. Since you already know who I am, could you tell me your name?”

“I am…Shalahora.”

I gave it a wave, “Good to meet you.”

“You…As well.”

Its voice pierced its surroundings, like talking to a walking sonic grenade. Somehow howling and quiet at the same time, it walked with its own Sentinel guard. It reached beside me, mirroring my own height. I checked its title, and that explained everything.

Shalahora, the Sun Swallower and Star Eater | Level 60,027 | Guild: The Celestials | Class: Sovereign

This thing could literally end Elysium by itself. Why it hadn’t or didn’t was beyond me. In front of us, a seamless doorway opened from the wall, the material bleeding away. Peering close, I recognized the material and murmured, ｆ𝘳e𝒆w𝗲𝐛𝘯𝐨νe𝚕.cｏ𝓶

“Nanomachines, huh?”

Spear snickered before turning to me, “This is only the beginning.”

We stepped into an elevator of glass or what appeared to be glass, at least. Once inside, Shalahora tilted its head to me. Another telepathic conversation began,

“If my communication bothers you…Tell me…Many species are driven mad by it…Others are hateful to it.”

I waved my hands, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve talked with a species called the gialgathens for a while now. I can tell the difference between a conversational link and a militant one. You’re doing a good job signaling your intent during that process.”

I moved my hands around more than necessary out of nervousness, “It’s like, you’re probably just meeting species that are new to telepathy. If that’s the case, one tactic I’ve seen is sending an anonymous chat log to the person. They’ll know it’s you, and it doesn’t require any intrusion to someone’s mind.”

I coughed into a hand, “Ah, not that you need the advice.”

“I did not know…Am grateful.”

It stared forward, a comfortable silence forming in the room. I peered around, kind of surprised by that. Shifting us with a sudden jerk, the elevator shot upward, launching via magnetism. Several G’s worths of force waved over everyone here, our systemized bodies well adapted for the stress.

We whirled past a glass viewpoint of space, several hundred other elevators leading towards the same area over us. The light source of this place rested over the ending point of our elevators, and when I looked up, it mirrored an eclipse. Turning my gaze elsewhere, other ruler class members shot upwards with the two of us.

We all headed towards the same place overhead. Beaming up, we siphoned into the space without worry. Other rulers looked around like I did, though I was the only one with my hands planted on the windowpane. Even if it showed my naivete, I couldn’t help it. This was impressive.

Looking at all the ridiculous levels, I found Obolis staring into the starry abyss. He interlocked his hands behind himself, not speaking with his other elevator member. He turned and met my eye, his own widening. He raised a hand, and I did the same. I even got a nice slice of humble pie after peering at a few of the other rulers’ titles.

Gorjah, the Alethic Constant | Level 28,901 | Guild: The Erudite Path | Class: Founder…

Mala-Jaysah, the Horizon Shatterer | Level 42,153 | Guild: World Cleansers | Class: Destroyer…

Biacknok, All Bringer | Level 34,238 | Guild: Way of Enlightenment | Class: Cultivator…

Shalahora’s status dwarfed theirs, but they still owning imposing titles with no less impressive backings. Spear found me gawking, and he gestured to the starry abyss,

“You may think of yourself as a dimension, but this is what a pocket dimension can truly be. Schema crafted it using the same technology as his rings. It lacks the same restraints, and this is that might displayed in full.”

I smiled at the distant galaxies, none of them real, “It is impressive, but this place lacks the size and scope of an actual dimension. This place is small, almost confining even.”

Shalahora misted up to the glass. It radiated out, “And you know this…How, exactly?”

I shrugged, “I’m a dimension.”

Shalahora murmured, “It says…You are a multiverse.”

I raised my palms to the entity, “Woah now, I do not recognize that title just yet. I’m just starting to get into the whole Harbinger of Cataclysm thing. A Multiverse? I’m not quite there yet.”

“Then I will call you…As such.”

Another quiet came as quickly as it shattered. Turning to the other elevators, I gazed at the shadowy figures in the distance. The metal trusses whirled by, blocking my view in a blur. My eyes adjusted, and I got another batch of statuses.

Even from just the titles over their heads, the levels alone averaged at absurd heights. The average range sat somewhere between 25 and 50 thousand. At least from a cursory glance, the highest leveled one was the purple blot of miasma beside me. The ephemeral creature took up the majority of its elevator despite its misty form.

It gazed out with pale blue eyes, its gaze carrying an empty coldness. It sighed before linking with me once more, “Have you felt it?”

I shook my head, “What is there to feel exactly?”

It peered up, and its voice cleared up some in my mind, “This meeting…It’s purpose. It will be…Drudgery. A nightmare. I despise these gatherings. Do you?”

I put my hands on my hips, trying to talk to the kind of horrifying thing.

“Yeah, I get that. I’m kind of trying to keep myself busy too. I mean, this was a real wrench in my plans.”

I sounded weird even to myself. Shalahora seethed, “It is the war. Elysium. They’ve gained new planets.”

My eyes widened. They already conquered more territory. That meant our guild stopped them from expanding more than I imagined. In the end, I expected as much. Elysium used a giant nanomachine artifact from an alien world, reverse engineered an Old One, and created an eldritch Hybrid. Taking over a few planets acted like an un-noteworthy end to their killer resume when compared to that.

At the same time, being called here for Elysium sent warning bells off in my head. If Schema tried drafting our guild back into the war, I might be forced into service. That being said, it might be better to be cut off from Schema than forced to fight Elysium. The sheer number of possibilities for those two decisions burst in my mind like a mental volcano.

Shalahora cackled before thinking over, “Fate will decide the outcome. Your belief that you may change it is simply an illusion.”

I raised a brow, “I don’t know. I think believing choice is an illusion is just a cop-out. I’m not exactly a philosopher, though, so take what I say with a grain of salt.”

The connection dimmed, and it turned away once more. It carried no emotion, an almost possessed creature. It stayed still as the elevator locked into the upper platform above us, the whirling, buzzing sound of raw mana flooding into our area. We hovered up slowly before closing into a position.

The energy within the area dimmed before the walls disintegrated away. They formed into the floor, revealing the other ruler classes around us both. Quite a few stared our way, many of them accustomed to this process. Shalahora was one of them. The miasma cloud peered up, and I followed suit.

Above us, an Overseer oversaw the area. Plated in dark armor, it showed a different model than the ordinarily bright blue of before. It pulsed red energy, reminding me of the Hybridized Overseer Elysium controlled. If I guessed right, this model used ascendant mana as the base, making it more of a war machine.

It spoke with blood in its voice, confirming my thoughts, “You are all here. Good. Remain calm before Schema’s arrival.”

In all directions, uplighting exposed venerable stonework. The cipher smothered it all, ancient and elegant writing used for all of it. An earthy scent floated off the rock, molding with the smell of stagnant air. It siphoned into the Overseer’s palm as it echoed out,

“You have been called here for the 7,821st galactic council. 500 random ruling class members were called here. During this time, convey your concerns to Schema. Our savior will do what it can to rectify your complaints. However, understand time constraints and resource demands.”

Shalahora let out a haunting laugh before murmuring, “That means it will do nothing.”

I crossed my arms, “I figured as much.”

The Overseer whipped its arm that held the condensed air. It blew into the roof of the well-maintained ruins, and dirt scraped off every surface. Flaying the debris off the inscriptions, the Overseer’s magic cleaned every inch of the entire expanse. By the time it finished, beams of red light had trickled into this domain. Seconds after, the cipher runes glowed on every surface, a primordial, dark blue mana coursing in.

It kept channeling for a few seconds before a strange precision crossed over the entire expanse. I looked around, feeling dissected, prodded, and peered through. It reminded me of Plazia’s description of my primordial aura, but this originated from elsewhere. Booming from all directions, the source announced itself.

“I am Schema. This is the beginning of the 7,821st galactic council meeting. Now, for the first order of business.”

Schema radiated out from every direction,

“It’s time for introductions. New ruling class members first.”