He stopped short. One breath. Another. No room left for panic. Only the sphere. Only the test. He reached out.
“What do I do?” His gaze stayed locked on the swirling surface. If this goes wrong, will I still be me?
“You’re already doing it—barely. You sense it, do you not? With my help, a thousand steps. Alone? Ten, if you’re lucky.” Great. A lecture. Why talk now? Just tell me how not to die.
The mage chuckled. “First, know your enemy. Focus. Feel its shape, its nature, its objective. Touch the sphere.”
Aaron pressed both hands onto the cool metal. The cold, fuzzy sense sharpened. Not a glow—an absence. Something hollow carved space as it passed.
The field. Vast. Overwhelming. A faint network shimmered above—lesser and greater densities shifting.
Who’s screaming? Oh. Realization hit. That’s me. Curious.
He pushed further. His mind spilled—cold, fast—into a space too vast to hold. The world split: low density above, high density below. Winding lines shimmered in the dense layer. Interesting.
A voice echoed, distant: That structure—look there, at the horizon. A faint clap. A muffled scream, as if underwater. Annoying.
Pain exploded across his face—hot, blinding. What—my nose? A shadow loomed. Too close. And yet, the glitter…
More claps. Louder. The muffled scream sharpened. Stop.
His eyes snapped open. A hand swung toward his blood-smeared face. “—back now!” a voice shouted, desperate.
No time. Aaron rolled. The hand missed. He scrambled back.
An average-looking man in a green robe stood before him—light blood spatters on the fabric.
Behind him loomed something insectoid. “Aaron!” The man’s voice cracked through the haze. “Your mind fell away.”
Mind mage. Right. Aaron wiped his face. Blood. Bruises. Black eyes. His bedside manner could use work.
Pain caught up—slow but thorough. Like an old friend. Groaning, he slumped onto the floor. A sharp jolt lanced from the back of his head. Ouch. A weak giggle escaped him.
The room tilted. His vision blurred. A grasshopper the size of a dog strolled up. “Hi, Mr. Grasshopper,” Aaron murmured.
Cold fingers gripped his face. Sharp prickles shot through his body. What—? The pain sharpened. He yelped—more surprise than hurt.
The mind mage watched him with a long, unreadable stare. No excuses. But a flicker—pity? No. Still a proud prick. Even with a student’s blood on his hands.
“I did not realize you were familiar with interactive sensorium environments.” His voice had slowed, thoughtful. “I gave too much support, your brain was overloaded with all that you sensed.” He tilted his head. “How did you learn to conceptualize abstract environments so well?”
Aaron frowned. What is he even—?
Then it clicked. He doubled over, laughing. The sound bubbled from his chest, rich and unstoppable. This is so stupid. And I am completely exhausted, a distant thought observed.
Between gasps: “Computer games!” Another fit of laughter shook him. The two men exchanged puzzled glances.
Bug leaned forward. “Calculator games? That makes no sense. Unless his world was very strange indeed.”
The mind mage frowned. “Com-pu-ter. Sounds like... computronium. The matter of minds.” Aaron drew in a steadying breath. Close enough.
“Computers are…” He trailed off. Am I really about to wander into a self-referential technobabble pit? They talk about computers like they’re brains. Which… is not entirely wrong. Guess I am doing this.
“Electrical calculating devices. They move information into forms that can be seen and altered. Some of those information packages are extremely complex. People use them for fun,” Aaron said. Bug’s confusion deepened. The mind mage, however, grew thoughtful.
“Charge-based abacuses… Fascinating. I thought they could only be built from beads. Or from light and plasma, as the gods do.” He gestured toward the still-frozen Bark. “We’ll have him investigate the infosphere.”
Okay. That was a lot. Electrical computers forgotten? Abacuses of light? Optical computers were theoretical at home. Plasma ones? No clue.
Aaron’s brow furrowed. Infosphere. Internet? Or something else? What good is magic if a mage can Google things?
“I am holding our experimental subject. We should resume your training before someone wonders where it remains,” the mind mage said, voice calm but edged with urgency. Back to business, then.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Aaron stretched, still sprawled on the floor. “No. You will learn standing. Catch him if he falls,” the mage instructed Bug.
“Now, meditate. I will guide you—but this time, you walk the oblivion road alone. Begin.” Aaron rose on shaky legs. The stone room felt colder. Here we go again.
Eyes closed. “Good. Breathe slowly. Deeply. Let your mind follow the breath.”
The air—cool, damp, fresh. His breath—steady, smooth. This calm came faster than usual. Why— “Yes. Focus.”
The calm deepened—like swimming with a life vest. Then he sank—deeper still—past the sea’s floor, falling through the depths.
“Well done,” the mind mage said with a smile, floating before Aaron in the familiar void.
“Practice this. I implanted an apprentice-level skill guide, but it will only hold for a few weeks.”
Aaron scanned the space. A translucent pillar stretched from infinity, topped by a dark metal sphere. How do I— He stepped onto the platform.
The mage descended, frowning. “Do not do that. Magic is metaphor. It depends on your connection to the world. Misbehave here, and you will lose it.”
“So floating’s fine, but teleporting’s a no-go?” Aaron arched a brow.
“Not all that is possible is permissible. Not all that is impermissible is impossible.” A hint of a smile touched the mage’s eyes. Alright, that was a good one. Pretentious mentor wisdom: check.
The mage’s smile faded. “Touch the sphere again.” His voice turned cold. Guess I struck a nerve.
Aaron reached out. The instant his fingers brushed the sphere, his senses expanded. Distant densities. Glittering lines—faint echoes in the void.
“Better,” the mage said. “Now, stretch out your perception. There.” He pointed with a steady hand, waiting. Back to the riddle games. Fantastic.
Aaron stood firm, hand on the sphere’s cold surface.
Stretch, mind. Nothing.
Stretch, magic. Still nothing.
His brow furrowed. Muscles tensed. He shook with the effort.
“Are you well? You may begin at any time.” Aaron eyed the mind mage. Has he just wiped a smirk off his face? The expression seemed too neutral. Funny, old man.
Okay, no ‘use the force’ jokes. What else could work? He looked in the indicated direction. Nothing.
As he turned back, a sudden rush—like water poured over his head—hit him. Clarity. Cold and sharp. What was that?
He shivered. Another surge followed. He flinched, pulling his hand from the sphere. “You may recall how the sphere was constructed,” the mage said. Right. A frozen metal ring, filled with electricity. A floating shell. It moves—and when I move, I feel clarity.
Aaron reached out again, brushing the sphere left and right. The cold clarity snapped back. Like staring at the edge of a paper’s cutout.
A shape emerged—faint, shifting. It drifted closer. “I released it. Perhaps you’ll get a better look before it eats your mind,” the mage said, voice calm, almost disinterested. Yeah. Thanks for that, old man.
The shape moved slowly. No panic. I have time. Aaron slid his fingers up and down the sphere’s surface—like swiping a phone screen. The sphere darkened, shining like glass.
Aaron blew a raspberry. “Magic is metaphor. Pay it no heed for now,” the mage murmured.
The shape jerked—faster now. Learning to swim in a shark tank. Perfect.
Aaron focused. The cutout shrank, rotating slowly. If I…
He traced circles on the sphere’s surface. The sensation sharpened—crystal clear.
Two spheres took form: one large, one small. The larger sphere sat beneath a hollow pyramid. Strange.
“You sense it. Good.” The mage tilted his head, listening. He nodded.
“A sythomancy specter—an abstract construct. It can seek, mimic the dead, or freeze you with a touch.” A grin crept across his face at Aaron’s expression. “But this one’s just a scout. Let’s have some fun.”
He raised his arms. Thousands of slender rods materialized, filling the void—red on one end, blue on the other. Magnets.
The specter closed in, swift and silent. Focus. He won’t let it hurt me... I hope.
Aaron watched, wide-eyed. He had seen magnetic fields with iron filings—but this was a three-dimensional web of power. He rotated the sphere experimentally. The rods followed, shifting as one. “I’m visualizing your metaphorical field lines. Remember this—it’s vital for working with forces and the intangible.”
Aaron nodded, still staring. “Now, rotate the sphere. As fast as you can. Forget speed—only the motion in your hands matters.” The mage’s voice sharpened.
Aaron gave the sphere a hard shove. It spun, endlessly. The magnetic field swirled—a cosmic mixer. The specter stopped. Then it began circling them.
“Slow it down.” Aaron pressed a finger to the metal. Cool. Frictionless.
As it slowed, layers of magnetic bars multiplied—no longer a single cage, but a towering wall of red and blue stripes. Not just an illusion.
He glanced at the specter. It still moved sideways. The vortex. I’m bending the field like a drain pulling water.
The specter’s path twisted, drawn into a slow spiral—funneling away from him, out toward infinity. Leading a hunter in endless circles. Clever.
“Thank you,” the mage said, smiling with quiet satisfaction. “Before we finish, a few warnings. If you know the concept of ultimate speed—or anything close—never let it touch the sphere. I assure you, having a nuke detonate in your mind is... unpleasant.”
The seriousness in his eyes left no room for doubt. Great. My mind turns into Hiroshima if I screw up. No pressure. But wait... nukes? And we were just fighting with spears?
The contradiction gnawed at him. Lightspeed, nuclear weapons—but no computers? What kind of tech mix is this?
“Do you understand?”
“Yes. That sounds... unpleasant. I will only manipulate the sphere with my hands.” Aaron bowed slightly. But I need to know more. “Does your magnetic shield have the same limits?”
The mage’s smile thinned. “No. It rotates at half the absolute speed. Most minds approaching it are shredded. But do not attempt this with metal. I had to imitate a specific kind of star—the kind the high gods dwell in.”
Aaron’s jaw dropped. “You have a pulsar in your brain?” Pulsars—the universe’s strongest natural magnets. Capable of ripping iron straight from blood. I knew he was powerful—but that?
The mage’s grin turned conspiratorial. “I am working on something even stronger. Based on the magic of the high gods.” Aaron’s mind spun—literally and figuratively. “What are—”
“Ask your friend. Our time is up.” The mage’s tone cooled, though a smile lingered beneath the stern frown. “Do not forget to rotate the sphere every few cycles. ‘Grandpa’ is back. You still have a trial to complete.”
Aaron swallowed. What lay ahead?
This time, the mage would not save him.
Euler, The Great Identity
- 250 neutron stars, 50 quark stars
- 80% confidence of functionally celler universe computers
- Several indications of failed fastpoint technology
- Inherited compute cluster from a disappeared UltraTech entity
- In possession of a wormhole network controlling a 1,500-light-year radius sphere
- Sovereign of the local galactic region
- 1,150 light-years from system
Upload schedule: Mon/Tue/Wed/Thu/Fri 4:47 PM EST / 10:47 PM CET → Each chapter is 1500 +/- 500 words long.
What do you think of Aaron's decisions? Would you have done the same?
Comment below, Like, Favorite or Recommend. It really helps. Thank you :)