As the voice faded, the orbs began to glow and hum, each emitting a unique pitch. The runes on the obelisk shifted, forming cryptic patterns that pulsed in rhythm with the orbs.

HALAT stepped forward, her glowing gaze fixed on the obelisk. “This is a logic puzzle. The orbs must be placed in a specific sequence to align with the runes.”

Clorita rolled her shoulders. “How hard can it be?”

Zog shot her a look. “Famous last words.”

The crew spread out, studying the orbs and their pedestals. Luma leapt gracefully between them, her optics flicking between the obelisk’s runes and the shifting glow of the orbs. HALAT knelt by one of the pedestals, fingers hovering over the symbols.

“Each orb emits a specific frequency,” she explained. “They correspond to the runes on the obelisk. The challenge is to align them without disrupting the balance.”

Zog’s circuits buzzed faintly. “Balance? What happens if we get it wrong?”

The walls shuddered slightly, and the light in the room dimmed. The deep voice returned, colder this time.

“Disruption will lead to collapse. Proceed wisely.”

Zog groaned. “Why is it always collapse?”

With HALAT leading the analysis, Clorita focused on moving the orbs between pedestals. Each shift caused the runes on the obelisk to change, the light pulsing brighter or dimmer depending on their placement.

“Red and gold seem to resonate,” HALAT said, her voice steady. “Place them on opposite sides.”

Clorita nodded, lifting the red orb and carefully setting it opposite the gold one. The room brightened slightly, and the hum of the orbs grew steadier.

“We’re getting somewhere,” she said, glancing at Zog. “Your turn, Captain Bullseye. Grab the blue one.”

Zog hesitated. “What if I put it in the wrong spot?”

Clorita smirked. “Then we’ll know it doesn’t go there. Trial and error, Captain Edison.”

With a groan, Zog picked up the blue orb and moved toward the nearest pedestal. The room shuddered slightly as he placed it down, and the light dimmed.

“Wrong spot!” Clorita called, rushing to adjust the orb.

After several tense minutes of trial and error, the orbs finally clicked into place. Their light converged into a brilliant beam that shot toward the obelisk. The runes flared with golden light, and the room stilled, the hum fading into silence.

The deep voice returned, now tinged with approval.

“You have succeeded. Balance has been restored. The truth awaits.”

The obelisk split down the middle, revealing a hidden chamber beyond. Inside, the light was blinding, and the air buzzed with an energy unlike anything they’d felt before.

Zog stepped forward, circuits buzzing faintly. “Let’s hope this ‘truth’ doesn’t try to kill us.”

Clorita grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With HALAT and Luma close behind, the crew stepped into the chamber, ready to uncover the Repository’s final secrets.

The crew stepped cautiously into the sanctum, their eyes adjusting to the sudden brilliance. The chamber was vast, seemingly infinite, with no discernible walls or ceiling—only a shimmering expanse of light that pulsed gently, like a living thing.

The floor beneath them appeared solid, yet it rippled faintly with every step as if they were walking on a surface made of liquid starlight.

Towering crystalline structures rose from the ground in irregular patterns, their surfaces etched with glowing runes that shifted and reformed, never settling into a single configuration. The air hummed with energy, resonating through their circuits and bones alike. It was neither hot nor cold, but the atmosphere carried a weight—an undeniable sense of purpose.

A monolithic crystalline spire stood at the chamber’s centre, its core glowing with a kaleidoscope of shifting colours. Hundreds of luminous orbs hovered around it, their surfaces pulsing in time with an incomprehensible, whispered language. They moved in deliberate, fluid patterns as though choreographed by an unseen intelligence.

Above the spire, a massive rotating ring loomed, casting shimmering beams of light that spread across the chamber. Each beam connected to intricate pathways that seemed to stretch into infinity.

In front of the spire, a smooth, mirror-like pedestal rose from the floor, reflecting the chamber's golden glow. A smaller crystalline orb rested upon it, pulsating with the same hypnotic energy as the central spire. It was calling to them.

Clorita stopped in her tracks, her grip tightening on her shotgun. “Well, Captain Buzzkill, this is… something.”

“Something,” Zog repeated, his circuits buzzing faintly as he stared at the kaleidoscopic spire. “If we touch anything, I’m blaming you.”

HALAT stepped forward, her sensors running at full capacity. “This structure is a nexus of knowledge and energy. Its complexity exceeds any known database.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Luma padded silently toward the pedestal, tail flicking, ears perked, staring at the orb with unreadable intent. She let out a soft, mechanical chirp.

“Great,” Zog muttered. “The cat’s going to activate it.”

Clorita raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying she’s braver than you, Captain Paranoid?”

Zog threw up his hands. “I’m saying she doesn’t have a self-preservation algorithm.”

The orb flared, casting shifting patterns of light across the chamber. The spire shimmered, its glow intensifying as if sensing their hesitation.

Lyssar stirred from the edge of the chamber. Their flickering, ethereal form wavered like a mirage, and they watched silently. When they spoke, their voices carried a profound resonance, both ancient and knowing.

“The choice is yours. But once made, it cannot be undone.”

Before Clorita could reply, HALAT stepped forward. Though her stance remained precise, her tone was unusually urgent.

“Mom, we must enter. This opportunity… it may never come again.”

Clorita blinked, thrown off by the rare insistence. “Spark, you’re serious? You really care about what’s down there?”

HALAT’s glowing eyes brightened, her voice steady but carrying a rare depth. “This knowledge—this Repository—could be the key to answers we have never considered. Solutions to problems we haven’t even identified. The potential is… immeasurable.”

Clorita hesitated. HALAT never spoke with emotion and never pushed for anything.

“You’ve never been this insistent before,” she said, quieter this time.

HALAT met her gaze, unwavering. “This is important—for all of us. Including you.”

Zog crossed his arms, frowning. “You’re not seriously letting her talk us into this, are you?”

Clorita rolled her shoulders and then shot Zog a look. “Oh, shut it, Captain Buzzkill. Spark makes a good point.”

Zog groaned, rubbing his temples. “Of course she does. Fine, let’s all walk straight into the glowing unknown. What could possibly go wrong?”

Clorita smirked, then turned back to HALAT. “Alright, Spark. We’ll go. But you better not regret it.”

HALAT’s response was simple. “I won’t.”

Luma let out another small chirp before springing onto the pedestal, tail curling as the orb responded to her presence.

Lyssar inclined their shimmering head. “The choice is made. Proceed.”

With the glow intensifying around them, the crew stepped forward, leaving hesitation behind.

The crew stood in silence as Lyssar’s flickering form gestured toward the floating terminals, their calm voice cutting through the omnipresent hum of the Repository.

“You have completed the trials and proven your worth. As participants, you are granted access to the database—a privilege few achieve.”

Clorita stepped closer to one of the glowing interfaces, her fingers skimming over the streams of alien data. The symbols flickered between unreadable glyphs and fleeting glimpses of comprehensible text.

“What exactly is in this database?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Lyssar inclined their head. “The accumulated knowledge of civilisations across the universe—science, art, philosophy, technology, history. Every mind that has entered the Repository has contributed to its archive.”

Zog frowned, his circuits buzzing sharply. “Wait. Contributed? You mean this thing’s been scanning us?”

Lyssar’s tone remained steady, unbothered. “The Repository interfaces with all participants throughout the trials, gathering data from their cognitive storage units. Organic or synthetic, all minds hold knowledge of value.”

Zog’s hand immediately went to his head, his optics narrowing. “So you just downloaded pieces of my brain without asking? And now my thoughts are sitting in your library?”

Lyssar’s flickering form pulsed faintly. “Your contributions were processed efficiently, Captain Zog. Though, admittedly, your storage units contained… limited unique data.”

Clorita snorted. “Ouch. You just got called boring by a cosmic archive.”

Zog threw up his hands. “Great. First, I get hacked, and now I’m insulted?”

Lyssar’s form shimmered faintly, their voice taking on a measured patience. “The Repository does not extract full consciousness or preserve personal identities. All data is anonymised upon integration.”

Zog crossed his arms. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Clorita leaned casually against a console, watching the symbols shift. “Relax, Captain Private. What’s the big deal? It’s not like they’re selling your embarrassing memories on the black market.”

She smirked. “Unless, of course, they found your secret collection of old Earth karaoke ballads. Then I’d be worried.”

Zog shot her a glare, his circuits sparking faintly. “I do not have a karaoke collection.”

“Sure, Captain.” Clorita winked. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

HALAT, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, her glowing optics scanning the streaming data. “The knowledge we provided is statistically insignificant compared to what we stand to gain. The exchange is overwhelmingly in our favour.”

Zog turned to her, exasperated. “How is this a good deal? We didn’t agree to anything!”

Lyssar met his gaze, their flickering form radiating patience. “The Repository operates on the principle of mutual exchange. Your knowledge is preserved so that others may learn. In return, you are granted access to all that has come before.”

HALAT nodded. “The potential applications of this database are limitless. Solutions to undiscovered problems. Theories beyond our current understanding. This could accelerate technological and philosophical advancements by millennia.”

Zog exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “And there’s no way anyone can trace the data back to us?”

“None,” Lyssar assured. “The Repository safeguards all participants’ anonymity. Your thoughts belong to no one but the collective.”

Zog muttered something and turned away, rubbing his temples. His circuits still hummed with irritation, but even he couldn’t deny the weight of what they’d stumbled into.

HALAT placed a hand on the console, her mechanical fingers skimming the surface. “This archive contains more than just knowledge—it maps the universe’s collective experience. The wisdom of the past, preserved indefinitely.”

Clorita grinned, nudging Zog with her elbow. “See? All your paranoia, and we still came out ahead.”

Zog rolled his shoulders, shooting Lyssar one last wary glance. “I just hope we don’t regret it.”

The Repository’s hum deepened as if acknowledging his words.

Zog’s optics dimmed briefly, still slightly irritated. “Fine. But this still feels invasive.”

Clorita smirked, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, come on, Captain Conspiracy. You always wanted to leave your mark on the universe. Now you’re literally part of the biggest knowledge vault in existence.”

Zog shot her a flat look. “Great. A legacy of being hacked.”