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Creation: Book 3: Strandbinder Complete!
Chapter 110: Return of the Strandbinder

Chapter 110: Return of the Strandbinder

Walker exited the portal doorway thing. It took longer than he expected for his eyes to adjust from the white blank of Ulysses' metaphysical room to the darkness of rendition 4AA’s space. When things came back into focus, he found himself standing directly above Romulus. Moving quickly due to the Temporal displacement still surrounding Sonata, he stabbed his finger at Time and slowed both Romulus and Remus down for a week.

Pushing with a small force of kinetic energy, Walker Reed first dropped down on the war world, shattered by portals, and looked around. Not too much had changed since his last visit. To his right were several planetary destroying insects, the buzz of their wings caught in stop motion to his eyes. To his left, a large and chewed-up leg sat, a lake of blood forming around it. Well, he assumed it was a leg based on its general shape.

A normal person would be worried.

A normal person would be terrified of the situation.

Walker Reed snorted, “I’m an idiot.”

As Virgil had pointed out in the past, he’d fallen for the Council’s trap. It was very unlikely that many Creators had also tested the Temporal subsystem enough to create their own anomalies. At least, not to this scale. One portal-filled planet, dumping out legions of who knew what from each crack in reality. Another planet slowly being invaded by its sibling. A mess, in other words.

Essentially, he’d wasted two planets for no reason other than he wanted to complete a task—a loose thread on his pile.

He had plenty of those already, so he wasn’t sure why he had fixated so much on this one. But that was a day for reflection Walker, when what was needed right now was action Walker. Stepping quickly over to a nearby portal, Walker stood still and looked at it.

He wasn’t sure how Ulysses knew he could use the Gravity system to close these things. After all, it couldn’t be such a simple solution, right? This particular anomaly showed a barren, dust-filled planet on the other side. He could see a swarm of insects in the near distance within the portal. Were they thinking creatures? Probably not. But he still needed to close this motherfucker before things got any worse.

He stood and stared at the anomaly for another few minutes, trying to make the same connection Ulysses had. For the thousand time since entering the protocol, he wished he’d studied science rather than English.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride

Shaking his head at the old proverb, he continued his thinking. The Gravity system allowed the user to create localized gravitational fields. Gravity’s effect on matter and energy was profound and powerful. Based on what he knew of black holes, it was also extremely far-reaching, meaning anytime he used the system, he’d have to be very careful. The longer he stared at the floating portal, the more his thoughts continued to twist around what gravity was at its heart.

In the wrong hands, it could be powerful and destructive. In the right hands, hopefully his own, it could be used to create wonders that profoundly affected his citizens. Gravity bends light and anchors things in place. It also drops apples on people. But there was more to it than that.

Walker remembered a movie at that moment. It was one of his favorites, and he had to keep his hands at his sides to keep from slapping his own face. Based on that movie and what little he knew of science, gravity also affected time. The larger the object, the greater the effect of gravity, and the more it affects the temporal energy of the area around it.

And these portals were intrinsically tied to time due to the strand he’d used to create them.

If he did this wrong, there was a minute chance the anomaly might split, causing further portals to appear rather than the result he wanted. But testing was necessary. With an idea of what he was now doing, Walker stepped into the Gravity system. Multiple options appeared, asking if he wanted to imbue extra gravitational force on objects, localized areas, and even entities. Another series of options had the opposite choices, allowing him to lessen the effect of gravity.

A cursor appeared in front of him. Walker grabbed it and placed the cursor just behind the portal, pulling up a new screen. Rather than be blown away by what he was about to do, he was more interested in the fact that lessening the power of gravity on the area was twice as expensive as increasing it.

How strange

Walker looked at what his screens were telling him. The strand options allowed him to scale the power of strands by a tenth of a percentage at a time. If that wasn’t a warning to take it easy, then he didn’t know what it was. Gravity could be overwhelming if he didn’t do this right. Walker tested it out by applying a tenth of a single percent, draining a fraction from his resources.

Nothing. At this time, Walker would normally jump the strand use up to a full percent, likely causing a cascading series of problems. But since his time in the protocol, he’d matured. He knew better than that now.

Walker stepped over toward the portal, inching around it carefully until he grew closer to the point he’d selected for his test. There was definitely a pull there. Something dragging him just a little. Taking several steps backward, Walker moved the cursor over and watched it snap into the same place. He upped the power to two-tenths, hoping the inclusion of more gravity wasn’t multiplicative and clicked accept.

The pull hit him a little, forcing him to take a few small steps backward, but he also noticed something else. The edges of the portal looked different. The smooth, round edges were now rough. Like they were being damaged by something. In fact, even frozen in time like he was, the roughness grew worse.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He needed it to happen all at once. If it simply tore down and broke, it could create a backlash that spread across the area. Quickly, Walker stepped into the system again and added another two-tenths, still leaning on the side of caution. A tearing sound echoed out before the portal ripped in half.

Walker noticed two things happen at once. The portal didn’t cause any devastating damage, meaning Ulysses was right, and the Gravity system was an excellent choice. However, he also noticed that the pull had grown stronger, and he felt himself getting dragged toward the location while the ground beneath him ripped itself into the air.

Pushing his body a little, he pulled himself away until he could no longer feel the localized gravity field. The same could not be said for the area around it. The land surrounding the gravity field was depressed or torn away for dozens of feet, leaving a bowl-like shape on the ground, a warning for anyone who came near. Right in the middle sat a highly compressed disk of dirt ranging from brown to black. Walker spied the inspects nearby, completely unaware of how close they’d come to being squeezed into the smallest parts of matter they could be.

Walker looked at the disc again and smiled. Now that he knew he could do it, along with the strength of gravity he needed to apply, this should move along quickly.

Across the surface of the war planet, a phenomenon occurred. Everywhere a portal had once stood was replaced by a flat disc floating in the air. In the future, creatures brave enough to step closer, particularly of the smaller variety, would find those discs to be death itself. To the larger monsters and creators of mayhem, they were a simple annoyance best to skirt the edges of. Regardless, for the first time in a relatively long time, portals were no longer free to open in the Symphony solar system.

Of course, Walker had forgotten one thing when advancing Romulus and Remus by a week.

The Crystal Nomads.

“Son of a bitch,” Walker said as he stared down at the pieces of crystal all around the area. He didn’t enter the Temporal field he’d created on his last visit. Currently, as both the planet was advanced as well as his own body, he was already within a double field. Should he enter the space where the nomads existed, the field would triple. The last time he’d done that, he’d felt parts of himself tear off, his body having difficulty regenerating itself.

Walker still closed the portal within; however, after it disappeared with a pop, he noticed something. After he closed the portal, the displacement surrounding the area seemed thinner. Like the act of placing a small gravity well within the area had siphoned some of it away.

Testing a theory, he created two more at a set distance apart and confirmed his hypothesis. The temporal field weakened further. It took five small fields in total, each spread around in a circle, before a pop echoed out, and the bubble dispersed.

Walker scratched his chin as he found another theory proven true. He was getting better at this. He looked at the five discs floating around him, their depressions set deep into the ground. Instinctually, he thought that they would be attracted to each other like magnets. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

Walker shook his head, not saying the two words he always said when he knew systems were fucking around with the natural order of things. Stepping over, he quickly absorbed any latent soul energy he found, filling himself back up.

With one last look at the area, he headed over to the portal he’d established what felt like a long time ago. A couple of moments later, Walker was back on Sonata’s soil for the first time in weeks.

After arriving, he took a deep breath of air, happy to be home. There was a different feeling here than anywhere else he’d been. It was hard to describe.

Since he didn’t spy Virgil by the portal chamber anymore, he made the logical leap that time had passed during his adventure. How much time was the question, and a worrying one at that. Running at a pace he found to be just low enough not to cause problems for his citizens, he sped around the area, looking for everyone. But they were all missing. He couldn’t find a single person.

As he continued to speed run, Walker started to grow concerned. Where could they all be hiding? Had Virgil already seeded them into the Conservatory? He felt his pulse quicken as he continued to search, passing the archery range, and his expression shifted from worried to panicking.

They didn’t know about everything the Overlays could do. Skills. Professions. What if they made a mistake and immediately fucked up? Hell, they didn’t even know that Ulysses would be there during their incipience. Walker stopped a few hundred feet from the Tree of the Gods to control his breathing and just think. That’s when he remembered that time he’d given his big speech. He changed course from the Tree of the Gods to the Arena, picking up a little speed as he ran across open fields.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

It didn’t take long to arrive. Entering the tunneled entrance alone for the first time, he found multiple Founders halfway into the tunnel. Walker breathed a sigh of relief, moving around each Founder who was frozen mid-step as they headed inward. He spent a moment reading the expressions on their faces. Mostly, he found smiles and people in the midst of conversation, but quite a few of his people had the fresh stamp of anxiety present.

Exiting the tunnel, most of everyone was already seated. Virgil stood at the podium, speaking to Rimi and Cagna as Ares and Athena stood behind him. Each of them had concerned looks on their faces, except for Virgil, whose blank expression was the same as always.

Walker looked at the crowd again as he sized up everything. The Primigenials were sitting together, as always, but he spotted Lucy and Runner sitting high in the stands, apart from the others. With a grin, Walker headed their way. It was difficult to inch past everyone, but after being gone for so long with only a Universal Personality to talk to, the mundane triviality of it was somehow appealing, even if they were frozen in time.

Walker slid in behind the two Founders, seated on the top row. He pulled his hood forward to cover his face, then pulled the temporal energy covering him back into his resources. Time sped up before his eyes, picking up the conversations around him. He focused on what Lucy and Runner were saying.

“What do you think the blue screen means?” Lucy asked.

Runner shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s like the stuff we saw at the beginning. You know, when our translator turned on.”

“Maybe bu-” She stopped suddenly. Walker was close enough that he could see the hairs on the back of her neck raising. Slowly, she turned and looked at him. Thinking he’d have a little fun, Walker lifted his head so she could see the inside of his hood.

“Sup?”

“Walker!” Lucy yelled out as he raised both hands to calm her down. “What are you doing up here? Where did you come from? Where’d you go?”

He put a finger against his lips, “Shhh, calm down, Cotton-eye Joe.” Arcing an eyebrow while looking left and right, he pretended to be in hiding, “I’m incognito.”

Runner gave him a funny look, “Incog-what?”

Walker grinned, rolling his eyes. He was about to explain the word when his vision drifted back to the stage. Virgil was staring straight at him without moving.

Shit, so much for incognito

He looked at the huge black squirrel and shrugged his shoulders before briefly waving a hand. The Supreme assistant gave a very faint nod in return, putting him at ease. Looking back at the two girls, he asked, “How long would you say I was gone?”

It was an important question for him. There were a couple of times, seconds only, when his Temporal shielding had dropped off. He had no clue how much time he’d lost, and what hell Virgil would put him through.

Runner chewed on her bottom lip, “I think, about two days? We were supposed to go to the Conservatory yesterday.”

Two days…two days…so they waited.

Walker nodded. That was nice of them. He supposed Virgil probably felt he didn’t have much choice in the matter. After all, he was the driving force of the Conservatory from the beginning. It would be weird if he wasn’t there to see everything he’d put in place come to fruition.

“What did you do with the extra day?” Walker asked.

Runner grinned, “While Lucy over there was studying the Scripture for the hundredth time,” Walker looked at her, noticing a cherry glow light up her cheeks, “I was working on running. Cagna told me earlier that I was getting close to a new Milestone and I thought it would be a good idea to knock it out before we left.”

“There’s going to be plenty of running in the Conservatory,” Walker replied with a dark chuckle. “Just not the kind of running you may like. Remember, it’s a training system for battle.”

Lucy spoke up quickly, her words jumbling together, “About that, didn’t you say we’d get skills and that there would be ways to fight back better and that monsters were a little overpowered for us and-” She stopped when he held up a hand.

Just as he was about to speak, Virgil called out in a loud voice, “Please be seated. We will start in a moment.”

Everyone settled down in an excitable fashion. Walker gave a wink to the two Founders in front of him before pointing at the stage. They quickly got the point and turned around, although he could see one of Lucy’s legs bouncing up and down.

Virgil looked across at everyone, pointedly ignoring the area Walker was sitting in, before speaking again, “Hello, Founders, Primigenials, and my fellow Assistants. Two days ago, our Creator, Walker Reed, disappeared. I do not know where he has gone,” He paused, still not looking at Walker’s section, “But I can tell you he seems to be in good health. Because of his…disappearance, we have decided to delay the first cohort's mission to the Conservatory. This is a conscious choice on our part to wait for our Creator to return, as he is integral to all of our success.”

Virgil had to pause as the noise level rose in the arena. Once they settled down, he spoke again, “I understand that something dramatic has recently occurred for the Founders, and thus, why we have decided to meet here, in the Arena. What you are seeing right now, that blue screen, is called an overlay.”

Walker’s notifications pinged. While Virgil explained what an overlay was, he pulled it up.

Virgil: Symphony’s Supreme Assistant

Add to contacts?

Yes/No

Walker smirked before clicking yes.

Virgil: What the fuck, Walker

Dante: Whoa, Virgil. Language please. I don’t think I’ve ever heard, or seen, you curse before.

Walker sighed when he noticed his name in the system was Dante. Then again, he remembered a specific option he’d added to the Communications system precisely for this reason. A few clicks later, he changed his name. However, that delay also allowed Virgil to continue to yell at him in chat while still speaking simultaneously to the crowded arena.

Virgil: Do you have any idea how much panic your sudden absence caused? I have been putting out fires left and right since you left. And what is this system? The Omniversal Communications system? What the hell is the Omniverse? I have no information on this at all, which is impossible.

Superman: It’s not in the LAD?

Virgil: No. In fact, I have not been able to contact the LAD since it arrived. Do you know anything about that? Wait, why is your name Superman?

Reed Richards: It’s not?

Virgil: If I could sigh through text, I would.

Nick Cage: You’re just reinforcing my reasoning for not adding emojis to the system.

Virgil: So you are the reason for all of this? Even with my abilities, I have not had enough time to parse through everything this system has to offer. Did you know you were activating it throughout the entire Multiverse?

Walter Mitty: Ummm…

Virgil: Whatever. I can tell you right now that I am not explaining all of this to Symphony’s citizens. I defer that privilege to you, all-powerful Creator.

Jar-Jar Binks: Ummm…

Virgil’s voice boomed out, distracting him from messaging further, “Now that you better understand what an overlay is, I would like to present the man who brought this great privilege to our lives. Your Creator, Walker Reed.” Virgil threw a hand out unerringly in Walker’s direction.

Fucker

Walker stood up, pushing his hood back to the gasps of everyone but the two Founders in front of him.

Seriously, I was gone for two days.

Pushing with a small amount of kinetic force, he drifted down to the stage. What he didn’t realize is that his control over the strand, after so much practice since leaving weeks ago, was to such a high degree that it felt only natural. But to those who he passed over, all they saw was an orange glow covering his feet as a man pushed against the air, gently floating toward the stage.

When he got close enough to recognize facial expressions, the glowers of everyone but Ares didn’t shock him. He figured they would be upset the moment Virgil had started to give him a good old-fashioned haranguing. Athena, in particular, had a powerful look of disapproval on her face.

Walker landed gently on the stage, the orange kinetic glow fading as he quickly absorbed it before touching the wood below. Virgil nodded, taking two steps back as Walker moved to the center. He looked out at the crowd of people, a smile lighting up his face.

“Good-” He squinted at the sky, “Afternoon, everyone. Although I suppose it’s always afternoon here,” He laughed, nobody picking up on his attempt at humor. “Ahem. I guess I should explain a few things. I had to go away for a time so I could prepare what you’re seeing right now,” He pointed two fingers at his eyes, “It was important, and I’m sorry I didn’t give more warning about what was going to happen.” He looked left to right, affecting what he hoped was an apologetic expression.

“You see, from time to time, I feel it necessary for me to review the state of Symphony. When I did so,” He said loudly, lying for all of his life so his Founders wouldn’t know that he sometimes felt like eating them, “I found that I had not prepared you well enough for the rigors of Symphony. I couldn’t, after full consideration of your forthcoming trials, recommend that any Founders touch the soils of the first world, Crescendo.” A susurration moved through the Founders at hearing that, “But now, I no longer have that worry. Along with your overlays, I’ve also created the Skill system, Profession system, and Mastery system, as promised.” Their voices grew louder, wondering at what exactly he was saying, “These are all implemented and are currently live, although I would like to ask you to wait until landing on Crescendo before you make your choice. My reasoning is sound. The only option you will currently find within your overlay is to become a Professional, and that will not go over well if you all make the same choice during incipience.”

Many people, Founders, and Primigenials alike, tilted their heads at that word. Walker chose not to explain it as they would learn the word when watching his introductory video.

Walker clapped his hands together, a light boom sounding out and causing the conversations to calm down, “Now. I want to give you some warning here. Whatever choice you make during Incipience will be permanent for most of you. There are many paths forward on the way to power. No single choice is the right choice. It’s all up to you, just like I promised.” He waited another moment, giving them his full attention as he scanned the crowd again, “This is an important choice in your lives. Maybe the most important. Do not make it lightly. Tomorrow, you will go to Crescendo. Tomorrow, the first fight of your lives will begin. But for now, again, as promised, why don’t we have a little fun?”

Walker pulled the Imager out of his inventory, as well as a crystal he’d labeled. When Walker was leaving the Ulysses-verse, he’d been given several crystals. He’d only spent a moment looking at them when closing portals on the war worlds, but that had been enough to put a big grin on his face, along with a grimace as he watched what played.

After putting the crystal into its slot, a light beamed out, causing many in the crowded arena to gasp. On it, several smaller Ulysses swung on a swing set, a large city floating behind him. A moment later, a skeleton in a burned-out car appeared before a voice began to speak.

“Three Billion human lives ended on August…”

Walker waved at the projection, “This is Terminator Two: Judgement Day. I apologize for the acting. He’s not great, but the story is. Now, enjoy the film and relax for the day, because tomorrow, some of you will finally start living your real lives.”

Walker turned around to find an angry Athena with her arms crossed, backed up by two almost man-sized squirrels doing the same.

“What?”