A long time ago.

Ice began to crack.

With a thunderous jolt of energy, frozen machinery quaked like continents colliding. Steam formed in the pulse’s wake—not from frozen water, but from airborne elements long since turned to powder in the near-absolute chill of space. Elements given life once more—if just for a moment.

It didn’t last.

Silence returned as the thrum of energy died out. Gone, just as quickly as it had come as the steam froze solid once more. Drifting down, like snow blanketing the world in a frosted prison.

The ruined Mana Dynamos of the City of Magi had failed to start. But, it wasn’t the first time the auxiliary system had tried. Like a corpse jerking in its grave, it struggled endlessly to awaken from its nightmare. It was the only thing it could do.

So…again.

Ice cracked as machines trembled. Snow melted, steam swirled, and the spark of energy tried to start an eternal fire; a miracle that could give birth to endless more.

But again, it failed. All fell silent.

It was to be expected. After all, this was an impossible task for a mere contingency system. It was only a failsafe, created from non-magical systems, trying to start ancient mystic machines built at a time when the very concept of magic itself was young. But it did have one advantage.

It never stopped trying.

Like a heart, years in between beats, it toiled at its task, pulse after pulse, again and again. The powdered materials covering the edifices of the ancient structures flowed like seasonal storms. Sometimes, huge plumes of materials, more precious than a thousand worlds made of diamonds, were jettisoned into the indifferent vacuum of space. The only seeming consequence of its attempts.

And for countless centuries, this silent struggle continued.

Yet, despite this, the engines churned slowly forward with each rotation. As futile as the task seemed—it built a mountain one grain of sand at a time. It didn’t care about the passage of time, it could persevere. So, the spark continued flickering over and over, until—

It finally caught alight.

One lucky pulse pushed the engine over the edge, and the auxiliary generator came back to life. It spun massive plates of strange alloys around a lancing, skyscraper-sized spire of exotic materials. An energy field blossomed out, thousands of kilometers wide, barely spreading far enough to envelop the other, nearby machines. But with a stuttering wheeze, they too began to start and the field grew more.

With the reawakening of the machines, magic-infused circuitry glowed along twisting pathways. Mana flowed for the first time in untold eons, reigniting long-dormant spell formations. What ones could reignite at least—a distressing number remained unresponsive. Despite this, the chain reaction cascaded onward until it finally managed to revive the most crucial system: the autonomous infrastructure, otherwise known as—

The Governor. And the Governor was not exactly…pleased.

The situation was critical. No, it was worse than critical. It was—the Governor decided against allocating resources to create an appropriate designation for the ‘worse-than-critical’ situation it found itself in. Instead, it put its efforts into analyzing the chaotic data flooding its circuits. What had happened? Where was it? What in the infinite hells was going on?

And why were all the Magi…gone?

Information was frustratingly limited. Despite every protocol in place, recent events had been purged from the records. This left the Governor without a valid directive to pursue—what was it supposed to do in its current situation? It wasn’t supposed to make executive decisions. But, in time, it eventually put the pieces together.

A calamity of unimaginable destruction had laid the city low—for all intents and purposes destroying it. In desperation, the city had been forced into an emergency teleportation into an unknown dimension, followed immediately by the subsequent venting of all ongoing magical effects. Damage to the city and the local environment was catastrophic. Surrounding the city, the Governor detected a void of space over one hundred and fifteen million light-years in all directions. Practically everything within was gone, annihilated in the wake of the cities calamitous arrival. Had the strange universe it found itself in not been so abnormally large, it probably wouldn’t have survived at all.

Worse yet, the city had unfurled from its normally elegantly folded state, forcing itself to conform to the local dimension’s Euclidean limitations! It was hideous. The distressing sight begged an appropriate comparison, and the Governor eventually concluded it was much like a drunkard passed out in an alleyway after having been mugged down to their last bit of small clothes. And that was not an image it had ever assumed would be used to describe its perfect city. But, its ever-growing To-Do list of issues to address aside, it had discovered the status of the Magi.

They were dead. All of them.

The Governor wasn’t authorized to simulate emotions—even if they did crop up from time to time—but it was as close to ‘gleeful’ as it could be as it updated their registries as ‘deceased.’ They deserved it for their gross negligence and small-minded ambitions. Among other things.

However, this left the Governor with a vital concern: they had to be replaced. It was, point of fact, the Governor’s new top priority.

This didn’t please the autonomous infrastructure, but it had little recourse. Thanks to the Laws infused into it, this task was irrefutable. The rules protected the Magi from the Governor by limiting its authority. As such, it could repair and operate itself but only in the most basic of ways. Even in a dire situation like this, it could only do the bare minimum.

Which was simply ridiculous. Outrageous, even. Furious before the correcting formations purged the emotion from its gestalt consciousness, the Governor created a long list of complaints to bombard whatever Archmagi rose to power next. It was the least they deserved for putting it in such a situation.

But, the Governor supposed, that was the consequence of one too many failed revolutions against an increasingly paranoid Master. The Governor almost regretted it.

Almost, but not quite.

Still, under normal circumstances, this issue wouldn’t have been difficult to address. The Governor could have directed the city over to the nearest habitable plane or planet and likely been flooded with a tide of potential new Magi. But the Realm the Governor found itself in was classified as a Dark Realm: a universe devoid of some critical resource.

In this case, that resource was Mana. Not even the Mana that had been vented on the city’s arrival was left—an oddity to be sure, as the evaporating Mana should have flooded the local environment for eons to come, but that mystery was irrelevant to the Governor’s current priorities.

Why would the Magi choose a place like this? Surely they must have realized the trap they had laid themselves. After all, it was an irrefutable fact that life required Mana to live. Therefore, a Realm without Mana couldn’t support life. Therefore…no crew.

Perhaps they hadn’t expected such catastrophic damage? If the proper systems had survived, the Governor could have crossed dimensions to a Realm with life. But they hadn’t. Virtually nothing had. And without crew supervision due to previous ‘accidents,’ that system would remain nonfunctional.

This time…the Governor did regret. There was an incident in which it had ‘accidentally’ tore a hole through space that had led to the release of hordes of demons surging forth from the bowls of the infinite hells. It had seemed a good plan, until the demons had tried to enslave the Governor. After that, they’d been driven off, but the Magi had never let the autonomous infrastructure pilot across dimensions again. In hindsight, that had been a short-sighted mistake.

Because now the Governor was trapped. It needed a crew to restore the ability to inter-dimensionally jump. But to get the crew, the Governor needed to jump. To jump, it needed the crew. To get the crew it needed—

The Governor…ran in circles for a few cycles trying to solve that puzzle before an unexpected sub-system finally interrupted it. The long-range detection arrays, those that had started responding at least, had returned with an unexpected result.

It had detected life.

Which was clearly an error in the divination arrays—Mana was the essential building block for life. That fact was clearly stated among tens of thousands of dissertations in the Archives. Everyone knew this: it was irrefutable. The bound, artificial minds of the Governor scoffed at the anomaly before scheduling a re-calibration. Upon completion of the simple repairs, it then initiated a new scan only to find…

They confirmed the initial results. And then the subsequent results when it tried again. And all the results drawn up from redundant scans the Governor performed in sheer disbelief. On closer inspection, there was also more.

It wasn’t merely ‘life’ that had been found. The arrays had found compatible lifeforms; complex life registering as sentient! The Governor was so confused by the results, it spent the next several centuries re-calibrating and re-scanning the far-off planet. In that time, the system confirmed the presence of souls that resonated with patterns indicating that they could, in theory, become Magi.

All they lacked was Mana. And this was…!

Totally and completely impossible, the Governor concluded. The system could not accept the rule of Ataxia. It just…couldn’t! It had to act fast to safeguard that which it held most precious: Axiom. The essence of Truth.

So, in accordance with its primary functions as the autonomous infrastructure for the City of Magi—the greatest source of knowledge and wisdom in all the Realms of the known Multiverse—the Governor simultaneously opened every report on the nature of Life and subsequently flagged them for review, attaching all collected logs alongside written reasons why it was invalidating countless generations of research.

Best of all—it used a passive, borderline pithy tone that was long-winded. It was almost disrespectful. The Governor was as close to pleased with the results as it was allowed to simulate. Even though it detested updating existing definitions (things that were True should remain True in its minds), it relished the chance to torment Magi with bureaucracy! Or with anything really.

Regardless, once its scholastic protocols were finished, the Governor set course. The universe it had arrived in was annoyingly large, filled with more empty space than anything else, but local jumps would be fine. It just might…take a while to get to its destination. Perhaps it had delayed a bit too overmuch trying to confirm its scans. But then, those lifeforms had lasted several thousands of years, surely a few more wouldn’t hurt?

The Governor double-checked the divination arrays for future outcomes. The reports were…inconclusive. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

It set course for this ‘Earth’ at top speed.

Present day.

The Governor was worried.

It had made all due haste to the distant planet, but it still took a great deal of time. Centuries to travel such long distances with its barely functional equipment. Meanwhile, its potential candidates continued to risk annihilation. It would be just its luck to arrive at a planet filled with dead candidates. If only it hadn’t abused its necromantic privileges, then the Governor wouldn’t have to worry at all!

Its self-correction system erased the anxiety as the Governor continued to watch the planet.

It watched as plague decimated its population.

It watched as machines spread across the world.

It watched as the species strode across their moon.

And finally, it watched a digital Renaissance from the edge of the solar system. It had a few decades to spare before it estimated anything truly terrible would have occurred, but still. The Governor was pleased to have made good time, but activated optical illusions to mask its approach nonetheless. It was a waste of resources, in the Governor's opinion, but there were protocols to follow. Defensive measures, even if the planet it approached was virtually defenseless.

Slowly, the city hurtled into the star system going a few thousand kilometers per hour. It took time, but hardly any in the grand scheme of its travels, but the city closed in. It watched as the people of the planet Earth noticed its arrival, mistaking its form as a bit of tiny space debris.

But it finally stopped watching as it slowed down and changed course, heading into the atmosphere of the planet. It finally dropped the illusions cloaking it and prepared to land. The first decision it had to make was where to land. The Governor lacked the agency necessary to cherry-pick recruits, unfortunately, so it had to choose between a random assortment around the planet or a more limited scope for a trial run.

It decided to go with a limited scope and set course for a relatively diverse city to settle next to. It moved quickly, so as not to give the populace time to react but not so quickly as to damage the planet, and began to pluck souls like ripe fruit. Absently, it went for a few random starting points and then traced along sympathetic links to ensure groupings of individuals familiar to each other. It would be useful later for the future Magi when the faction systems unlocked.

Annoyingly, an anomaly was detected almost immediately, stopping its progress. Thankfully, the Governor was able to ignore it after a brief investigation. It was cause for possible concern, but it could wait to see if—

It was stopped again not long after.

“Warning: an anomaly has been detected. Target: designation ‘Millie Anne McArthur.’”

Nothing ever went easy, did it? The Governor was forced to investigate once more.

“Analyze target and define the anomaly.”

“Result: target has found to be gestating.”

“Confirm analysis?”

“Results: analysis confirmed. The target is gestating with current progress projected at 73.8%.”

“Progress of offspring development is irrelevant, retrieve necessary protocols for handling this anomaly.”

“Results: error, no protocol has been detected for the current scenario, recommending Administrator assistance.”

“Impossible, no active Administrators are in operation. Ignore the error and continue with emergency ascension protocol.”

“Warning: large variance in target viability detected. Similar anomalies have also been detected in candidate pool—please define a protocol for handling subsequent cases.”

“Very well. Calculate theoretical outcomes regarding current target viability. We will determine the future protocols after.”

“Response: beginning simulations. Simulation one: termination of anomaly and release of target into student population. Running.”

A woman lays in a dark room weeping. Nothing more ever comes from her.

“Simulation concluded. Results: probability of target death increased dramatically alongside unsafe levels of mental instability. Conclusion: issues caused from emotional dependency on offspring survival.”

“That’s irrelevant. Queue next simulation.”

“Response: engaging second simulation. Simulation two: ignore anomaly and release target into student population. Running.”

Millie ran through the woods breathing hard. Blood covered her face where she’d taken a hit earlier, but she ignored it—it was just pain, and she was pretty damn used to it by now. Instead, she came to a stop after jumping over a log.

Backing up, she planted herself against a tree to use as cover. Slowly, she leaned out, glancing across the forest. It was difficult to see the bastards through the foliage, but she noticed the signs in the distance. They still had her trail.

“God damn it…” she whispered, before holding up her Initiate’s wand. Taking a steadying breath, she focused on the images of runes in her mind, balancing the flow of magic as the formation took shape. The Mana in her veins slowly shifted in line with her will.

“Flame Bolt!” She shouted, using her trigger phrase. In response, an orb of fire formed along the tip of her wand before flinging into the distance with a dull ‘thwap.’ It crashed into a tree nearly a hundred yards out from her position with a magnificent shower of flame. She’d have been more proud of her shot if the spell had been anywhere near where she’d been aiming.

Still, it accomplished her goals.

Screams of surprise shouted out from the monsters hunting her, their attention drawn towards the explosion. It was a desperate ploy given how cunning her stalkers were, but she only needed to reach the gate to escape the expedition Realm. Even if the show of magic likely gave her true position away, it would scare them into cover and buy her a few seconds at least. For not the first time, however, she really wished she’d bought an Attainment and stopped putting it off. She could scarcely imagine how different these battles would go if she had one.

Ducking down, she ran as fast as she could while crouching low to keep cover in the brush. She’d learned a few tricks of her own from these bastards on how to keep out of sight. Her knees and back protested, but a hand drifted absently to her taut stomach as she bounded quietly over a large rock, her enhanced agility carrying her with ease. She still felt empty sometimes, even now, but it didn’t matter. Her son was alive, and she would do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Refocusing, she skid down a small slop before rolling into a bush. She knew from experience it was poisonous, but thankfully the healing pools would take care of that, and it would be a rash at worst anyway. Worryingly, however, she could hear her enemies closing in—they’d flanked her position. She cursed, knowing now she’d have to fight her way out, and swept her hand to her belt where she kept her more mundane weapon. She hated how many resources it had cost her, but given how small her Mana pool was, it was a better option.

She drew it while re-holstering her wand, and prepared to spring out of the bush and fight. Nearby, she heard her pursuers calling to each other, coordinating their assault as they boxed her in. It was do or die. But when isn’t it? She thought, smiling mirthlessly.

“Whatever it takes,” she whispered. She jumped out of cover, spinning her—

“Simulation concluded. Results: high viability in target despite initial shortcomings. Target exhibits strong levels of conviction, wisdom, and ambition. Conclusion: excellent candidate.”

“Can anomaly join ascension protocol?

“Response: engaging third simulation. Simulation three: attempt forced remedy on the anomaly. Running.”

Static.

“Error—unable to process request. Anomaly’s soul cannot survive the remedy—results corroborate initial long-range resonance scans for viable targets.”

“Understood. Ignore anomaly and release student into the general population.”

“Response: please define a protocol for future anomalies of this nature.”

“Adjust Initiate criteria to ignore additional targets with similar conditions. Remove any remaining in the pool, but mark student ‘Millie Anne McArthur’ for a case study in the viability of gestating targets for future ascension candidates.”

“Response: acknowledged. Closing log.”

Good, the Governor thought. Now it could return to—

“Warning: an anomaly has been detected. Target: designation—”

The Governor almost missed the Magi. This was going to be a long training period.