The figure pushed away from the wall. Smooth. Controlled. Each movement left wisps of gold hanging in the air like tracer rounds in slow motion. The space vibrated with a subsonic hum. The metallic deck should have rung with footsteps, but there was only silence. Still, Blake couldn't miss the raw power radiating from the being."I am Aureon," came the voice. Musical. Mesmerizing. "Archon and Chronicler of the Demiurge."
Blake remained quiet, his expression composed. Inside, he pieced together what little he understood, like a puzzle slowly taking shape. Archons. Chimera had mentioned them—essentially system administrators. But what exactly was a Chronicler, and what was their purpose here?
Blake watched the smile spread across Aureon's face, and every instinct screamed danger. The Archon circled him like a shark sizing up its prey. The chamber seemed to squeeze inward with each of Aureon's steps. Blake's instincts were screaming, muscles tensing for action even as he fought to keep his posture relaxed.
"My viewers have been keeping an eye on your little saga," Aureon said, his tone slick with smug amusement. His hand traced luminous symbols through the air almost unconsciously. "The wayward soldier... the symbiotic connection... and now this escalating feud with that tiresome petty tyrant, Rax."
"People are watching me?" Blake asked, paranoia rising.
"You? Maybe a few," the archon responded, chuckling. "But more are watching the drama unfolding in the scavenger clanholds across the planet. And thrice as many were watching as Eland Turun, a supposed man of learning, allowed himself to get pulled through one of the universe's most easily avoidable wormholes. Even demigods enjoy physical comedy."
Blake found himself genuinely unsure about how to respond to what he was hearing.
"Your little pet leviathan has more interested parties than you, Mr. Connover," the archon continued squaring up with Blake and smiling. The smile was not friendly. "But you're the one with an administrative hold on his profile. And that's going to hurt my engagement ratings if we don't fix it."
"What the hell does that any of that even mean?" Blake was standing now, confusion and annoyance warring with paranoia and dread for control of his stomach.
"It means that under the late-entry protocols that the desk jockey who reviewed your status slapped onto your profile," the archon said, his smile slipping from his face. "You have to give informed consent to allow Aeons to interact with you during your first 60 standard days in the System."
Blake tried to process what the archon was saying. It sounded… Bureaucratic. Paperwork had never been Blake's forte.
"It's ridiculous!" The archon said, turning on his heel and throwing his hands dramatically into the air. "My viewers want to be able to be a part of the action on the ground. With something like this I should be able to create a regional scenario, allow the Aeons to pay in aether to create quests and rewards, the whole bag."
"But YOU," he spun and stabbed his finger accusingly at Blake, his crystalline horns flaring red briefly. "You are fucking it all up for me, Blake." The archon spat the name, as if it tasted sour on his tongue.
"How is any of that my problem, big wheel?" Blake had noticed the way the archon pulled his finger up just shy of actually touching his chest. He suspected there were rules at play here. This was pageantry.
"I'm only here to bribe you into engaging," Aureon said, once again adopting a salesman's predatory grin. "Consider it a personal courtesy, if you consider anything at all, that is."
"You aren't the best at this, are you," Blake asked as he eased himself back down onto his bunk. "You should have led with the carrot."
For a long moment, Aureon stood frozen in indignation at the remark. Then the archon threw back his head and laughed. The sound rolled through the cabin like crystal bells chiming, each note perfect and pure. It was beautiful in a way that set Blake's teeth on edge and made his hackles rise. His hands curled into fists at his sides as that haunting melody washed over him.
Something deep in Blake's chest burned at the sound. The half-formed halo behind Aureon's head flickered and pulsed in time with his mirth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Blake's jaw clenched tight enough to ache. He'd heard laughter like that before—the kind that came from people who thought themselves so far above others that cruelty became a game.
The crystalline horns sprouting from Aureon's temples shifted from gold to a deep amber as his laughter faded to chuckles. His dark eyes fixed on Blake with that same predatory intensity, but now they held a spark of genuine amusement.
"I suppose I did choose the wrong approach. You're an ant, Connover." The words dripped with false politeness, each syllable precisely chosen and delivered with the careful attention of someone explaining something very simple to a very slow child.
"But maybe you'll make something of yourself in the days to come." His lips curled up at the corners. "Maybe I'll even apologize."
Aureon made a show of waving his hands and creating a system window mid-air. Blake couldn't make out anything it said before the archon made a shooing motion with his hand and the window shrunk down to the size of a coin and zoomed into Blake's chest.
His hand immediately flew up to the place the bolt of light had pierced him, but Blake was unharmed. Once again, pageantry.
"I left an offer for you," Aureon spoke, drawing Blake's attention. "You can find it in your system messages. Take a few hours to consider it. Maybe talk with the big one about things. Then let me know if you're interested in playing ball."
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
The archon turned away, mantle swirling around his legs as he took a single step forward. Between one heartbeat and the next, he simply ceased to exist - as if he'd stepped through some invisible seam in reality that Blake's mind couldn't quite grasp. The trailing wisps of light that had followed his movements lingered for a moment longer before fading away into nothing.
Blake stared at the empty space where Aureon had been, muscles still coiled tight with tension. The echo of that beautiful, mocking laughter seemed to hang in the air like poison gas.
"What an asshole."
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Blake stalked through the dimly lit corridors of the lower decks, his heavy footsteps echoing off metal walls still thrumming with power fluctuations. The conversation with Aureon had left him seething, each step driven by suppressed anger as he made his way to engineering.
He found Eland where he'd left him - strapped into a nest of cables and power conduits, the Stokrine's massive frame dwarfing the jury-rigged control station. Pale blue light pulsed beneath Eland's skin as he manually cycled energy through the ship's systems.
"So an archon just paid me a visit," Blake said, dropping onto a storage crate.
Eland's eyes snapped open.
"An archon? Here?" His cetacean features twisted into a frown. "That doesn't bode well at all."
"Yeah, real piece of work too. Called himself Aureon." Blake's jaw clenched at the memory of that stupid laugh. "Showed up in my quarters like he owned the place. Said he was a 'chronicler' or some such."
"Zeph?" Eland called out. "Thoughts?"
"Always," The AI's voice emerged from a small comm unit mounted near Eland's station. "And before you ask, no, I didn't detect his arrival or departure. Archons don't play by our rules."
"Chimera?" Blake spoke aloud. "You want to join this conversation properly?"
The comm unit crackled. "Already linked in," Chimera's voice emerged, clearer than Blake had expected. Hearing her voice with his actual ears struck him as deeply strange.
Blake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the tension in his shoulders refusing to dissipate. "Alright," he said, his voice cutting through the hum of machinery and the occasional crackle of Eland’s jury-rigged systems. "Someone needs to give me the rundown. Who the hell is Aureon, what’s a chronicler, and why are these Aeons so interested in me all of a sudden?"
Eland exhaled deeply, his massive hands pausing over the control panel as he considered how to begin. His eyes shifted briefly toward Zephyr’s comm unit before settling back on Blake.
“Aeons,” he started, his voice steady but weighted with caution, “are… difficult to explain succinctly. They’re not gods, not exactly, though many think of them that way.”
“They’re entities that embody immense power,” Zephyr interjected dryly. “Imagine a concept or myth given form and authority within the Demiurge System.”
"They're what happens if you keep lumping enough related Gnosis together that the pile gains sentience," Chimera chirped unhelpfully.
"Well, that's some of them," Eland cut in again before Blake could respond. “There's the other type, formed when someone ascends but doesn't merge themselves entirely into the One. They don't get to affect Demiurge directly, but they do get to further their agendas as Aeons.”
“None of that really helps,” Blake finally interjected. “You’re telling me these Aeons are some kind of cosmic bigwigs? What do they actually do?”
“They shape reality in their own ways,” Eland replied, gesturing slowly with one heavy hand. “They influence mortal lives, guide cultivation paths, set challenges—or meddle when it suits them. They can offer quests, give blessings, even open up new Classes and Professions. Some seek to guide or uplift; others are more self-serving—or even malicious.”
Blake scowled. “So what’s Aureon’s deal? Why’s he sticking his nose into mine?”
“Aureon,” Chimera spoke up, "is a chronicler, his role is less about interference and more about observation—or presentation, depending on your perspective.”
“Presentation?” Blake leaned back slightly, skeptical. “What am I now? A sideshow attraction?”
“Not exactly,” Chimera continued. “He’s part of a system designed to connect Aeons to cultivators like you—well, not exactly like you; you’re… well you're kind of a problem right now, like he said.” There was a flicker of amusement in her tone before she pressed on.
“Chroniclers act as intermediaries in this process. They create narratives around cultivators’ actions that can attract Aeons’ attention and investments. Aeons aren't omniscient, they can only focus on so much of reality at a time. Chroniclers create channels that compete for the attention of the Aeons.”
“Seriously? He's a reality TV host?” Blake asked. “He’s here to… what? Broadcast my life?”
“More or less,” Zephyr said flatly. "Not you, per se, but I suppose his channel is currently covering events in this region. Chroniclers have their own internal hierarchy, they're all trying to climb the ladder by getting the most engagement out of the aeons."
"He's chasing ratings, got it," Blake said. "I can make the logical assumption that the System takes a tax anytime the aeons act, which is why Aureon's so dead-set on making sure they do."
"A fair assessment," Eland said. "But they don't normally need permission to do their jobs. What's different here?"
"Blake is," Chimera responded. "An archon had to assist in sorting out his late inclusion into the system coupled with our unique bond. As part of that, they apparently slapped a 60-day ban on aeons interacting with him."
"Hrm," Eland murmured. "It makes sense. Best for him in the long term if he can get his feet under him and you two got yourselves sorted before some celestial swoops in and tries to set you on a path that benefits them."
"Are we going to talk about the bribe he's offering to get me to opt in?" Blake asked.
Eland perked up. "He's offering you a bribe? Twins know what scenario was being cooked up here for the Aeons that we stumbled into. It must have been profitable."
"Yeah," Blake agreed. "I haven't looked yet, thought we'd all get on the same page first." Blake willed open his interface and found the message waiting for him. "Chimera, is there a way to share this wi—oh, I think I've got it. Damn thing is intuitive."
Blake watched as Eland sat up a little straighter and his eyes went distant. He had received the message. Blake sighed as he looked it over for himself.
"Pulled across the goddamned universe and I still can't escape politics."