"My head…”

“Good morning, Master Gaius.”

The little boy held his pounding head and pushed himself into a sitting position onto the sofa, which squished slightly under his hands. “What happened to me?”

“You blacked out.”

“I know I blacked out,” replied Gaius. “But from what?”

“It’ll be easier to explain if you looked for your Engine and the fragment of the Human God’s power.”

Gaius felt around for the Stellar Core that hung from his neck, but the only thing his hand touched was his skin and the chain that the small disk hung from. Likewise, the tiara that was wound around his upper arm had also gone, seemingly vanished into thin air.

“They’re gone…Nexus, did you have anything to do with this?”

“No, Master Gaius, your items aren’t gone.” The voice hummed for a moment. “I think it’ll be better if you took off your entire shirt and looked at it yourself.”

The little boy exhaled slowly, having realised that the Climate Control ability of the Stellar Core was still very much active, and removed his shirt. On his right chest, where his heart should be, was a small slim disk of purple, encapsulated by a brilliant gold that reminded him of the Human God’s power.

The purple crystal was the same material that made up most of the Stellar Core, except that it had somehow moved over to his heart. The gold that lined the disk was also there, just that it now carried a rather intimidating presence. But most importantly, the disk had somehow merged into the flesh on his right chest seamlessly, to the point that Gaius would need to cut it out if he wanted to remove it.

As the little boy continued to watch, a pale layer of skin grew at a visible pace over the foreign object embedded in his chest, and soon, whatever evidence that there had been a lifeless object in his flesh had vanished.

“Nexus…”

“Yes.” There were some whirring sounds, and the artificial intelligence spoke. “This is definite proof that there is a link between a Bounded Presence and the laws that dictate why energy behaves in a certain way when channelled down a path of a certain width, breadth and length.”

Gaius looked at his right arm. “What conjecture have you made then, as a result of this observation?”

“Hmm. By now, you may have realised that what you people call cultivation is simply driving energy in a particular manner in order to create results in accordance with certain laws of this world,” said Nexus. “What happened to you in the past few hours simply proved that even the powers of the gods are subject to such laws and principles, just that the results are either different or enhanced beyond recognition.”

Gaius fell silent at those words. The artificial intelligence had revealed some answers to questions he had asked himself before. And raised new ones.

“In that case,” said Gaius, “what created those laws and principles?”

“That was one of the many questions that Master Yong Yue was exploring before he passed on. You now hold the baton,” replied Nexus. “At any rate, just remember for now that using the Map of Stars to communicate with the outside world also compels snowpyres within ten kilometres to guard the Library. It’s a glitch that has persisted for a long time, and we haven’t gotten close to solving it yet.”

The apparent non-sequitur confused Gaius for a moment. The artificial intelligence was perhaps trying to hint at a connection between controlling snowpyres and the laws that governed Orb, but as to what exactly that connection was, the little boy was none the wiser.

It did, however, explain why snowpyres were at least headed towards the Library two weeks ago.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to hint at exactly,” said Gaius. “Is it possible for you to be a bit less cryptic in your words?”

“Would an artificial intelligence like me like to be cryptic in the first place?” Nexus replied, the robotic voice tinted with some disdain. “C’mon, you’re smarter than this.”

Gaius’ right hand quivered slightly, as the little boy briefly wondered if Nexus needed some percussion tuning via the use of a fist or two. “I should therefore take it as there’s some sort of mystical law that’s preventing you from answering me upfront?”

“Bingo, Master Gaius. Or close to it, anyway.” The voice fell silent for a moment. “I mean, I could tell you, but you would just hear weird noises.”

“You’re being censored? Literally?”

“Very much so. Allow me to demonstrate.”

A jarring sound entered Gaius’ ears, something that reminded him of a cat scratching a blackboard with a blazing hatred. The little boy himself didn’t know why he would make such a comparison, but that thought was swiftly lost in his frenzied mind under the onslaught of the insanity inducing sound.

He wasn’t sure how long the entire spiel of scratchy sounds lasted, but the boy had regretted it one second after Nexus started. After pushing himself up from the ground, Gaius flipped the bird at the ceiling, who replied with a dignified silence.

The tinny sound in Gaius’ ears finally vanished after smacking his ears a few times over. Gaius, for some reason, instinctively believed that the artificial intelligence wasn’t lying to him about whatever laws and principles that bound it, but Nexus could at least have warned him about the unpleasantness.

“Master Gaius.”

“Hm?”

“You might want to consider bringing anyone you care about to Heritage the next time you come here.” The voice from the ceiling was subdued, even serious. “The destruction of the Divine Ladder, the impending fall of the Holy Temple and your successful assassination of the Human God…you have started in motion events that will stir the world for years and decades to come.”

“Oh? Tell me more, then.”

A few seconds passed in silence.

“Looks like it’s one of those irritating laws that are preventing you from telling me things directly, eh?” Gaius shook his head. “It’s when you fall silent that I learn the most sometimes.”

The boy rolled on the sofa, and then moved towards the Map of Stars. It was a truly powerful artefact, and even without the ability to listen, just being able to see the world from above was an advantage beyond any other.

By the time Gaius had reopened the holographic screen that displayed Centoria, the battle was nearing an end. The northern half of the grand capital city of the Centre Circle had been destroyed, with hundreds of buildings and fortifications now nothing but rubble. The battlefield outside the city, once just scarred, was now littered with thousands of corpses, all of them bearing the opulent armour of the Central soldiers.

It seemed that the Central soldiers had charged out of the city in a desperate bid to crush the Northern forces, who had apparently reorganised themselves to siege the city after Gaius left.

“It’s about to end,” said Nexus. “The North’s State Council is moving in slowly, to prevent any mistakes from happening…but the Holy Temple has lost.”

“Did the Monarch of Shadows plan for the aftermath of this war?” Gaius asked. “The issues of faith, and how the North would treat the great gods afterwards?”

“No. Despite his youthful looks, his body and soul were on the verge of death by the time you came. He’d been living for a century or two, stricken by injuries near the end,” replied Nexus. “Whatever lifeforce he had was entirely spent by the time the Divine Ladder was destroyed, even though enforcing a divine covenant shouldn’t have taken much energy at all.”

“He wanted to keep all paths open to me, is that it?”

“Correct,” replied the artificial intelligence. “You’ll be steering this ship in whatever manner you desire now. The Library…the Map of Stars…everything here is yours now, to do as you see fit.”

“I see.” The boy fell silent, watching as the North moved in on the ruined city.