Jace approached the pond’s shore, stepping slowly. He navigated around a rocky outcropping, then dropped down onto a muddy bank. Light beamed down from overhead, searing through the canopy, but he didn’t trust the shadows at the edge of the pond.
When he was barely an arm’s length from the edge, he pulled the plasma rifle off his shoulder and set it down on the muddy slope. Within reach. But if he wanted one of the Core Seeds—whatever he was supposed to do with it—he’d need to wade a little, and he didn’t want to test if his only weapon was waterproof. Then he set down his backpack as well.
He set a single boot into the water, then took another step, and another, and another. The water enveloped his lower body. It was warm and slightly thicker than regular water—but not as thick as mud. It swirled around him, grasping at him and soaking into his skin.
He crept toward a seed, holding his hand out and begging for it to just come a little closer. The invisible weight pressed down on his shoulders, but now, it was coupled with a desire to draw the seed in and do something with it.
It was the next step. The key to unlocking his true ability and pushing this…power he had.
He needed to take it.
The ground dropped off abruptly, and his mouth dipped below the surface of the water. He gasped, accidentally sucking in a gulp of the water. It was sweet and natural, and there wasn’t even a hint of fruitiness—or of anything sour. It quenched and dehydrated him at the same time, and the longer he held it in his mouth, the more it stung like a carbonated drink.
He spat most of it out, but a little lingered. A dribble ran down the back of his throat.
Not good.
Chances were, tomorrow he’d be puking his guts. Drinking mysterious water was never a good idea.
But then again, it might have been magic water.
The moment the liquid touched his throat, a painfully bright golden glow overtook his vision. He slammed his eyes shut and yelped, but the light remained. The backs of his eyelids seemed to amplify it.
A pulse of fire shot through his veins. His heart thrummed faster than it ever had before, circulating his blood at a torrential pace. He lost control of his muscles. His head snapped backwards and his eyes burst open. He didn’t know what he was looking at, but he was certain that golden light poured out of his eye sockets, illuminating the surrounding forest.
Slowly, the light faded. His vision returned. Golden sparks rained down on the pond—just like what the sheets formed out of.
When the sparks landed on one of the seed pods in the pond, its shell cracked open. Peeling away from the organic interior of the pod, a hard brown seed about the size of a cherry pit rolled out into the water. It propelled itself across the surface with thin, root-like tendrils. The golden dust gathered around it.
The seed raced towards Jace. His eyes widened. He wanted to run, but his muscles were still sluggish from the burst of energy, and he could barely move. Exhaustion weighed him down, but he still backed towards the edge of the shore, trying to escape from the prowling seed.
It was faster than him.
By the time he made it back to the waist-deep water, the seed reached him. It latched onto his arm with its tendrils, and with its sharp tip, it drilled into his flesh. He swung his arm around, trying to fling it off. Every second, it dug deeper and deeper. He gasped, then clenched his teeth. When he couldn’t resist any longer, he screamed in pain.
These were the Core Seeds, and he needed one, right? He had wanted to draw it in.
This had to be a trial.
Fighting against instinct, Jace held his arm still. He slammed his teeth back together and clenched his fists, and no matter how much he wanted to keep flailing, he pulled his muscles under control.
The seed disappeared beneath his flesh. It sewed his skin shut with its fibrous filaments, then disappeared into his body until there was only a thin red line on his wrist. His muscles shifted, and the seed crawled through his body—up his arm, between his skin and his bicep, and through his chest. He gasped, then slammed his eyes shut.
When the seed finally stopped shifting, he fell to a crouch. The water caught him. Darkness swirled on the edges of his vision, and he blinked rapidly to push away the creeping light-headedness. The golden dust and sparks that had followed the seed now hovered above his chest.
Jace stumbled back onto the shore. The sparks followed him, diving into his body. They swirled through invisible channels in his body. When he shut his eyes, he thought he could imagine the small seed hiding deep inside his body. He could picture it more clearly than ever.
A cloud of blue energy swirled around the seed. It was the exact same shade as the hypercore.
The golden sheet appeared in front of him, reading: [Quest complete: Accept Core Seed. Reward claimed: 10 Standard Aes Units].
Reward? That must have been the sparks plunging into his body—Aes.
[Quest available: Kill Ten (10) Darklings. Reward: 25 Standard Aes Units. Unlocks: DESTINED Quests.]
Jace tried to make the sheet close with his will, but it didn’t listen—until he accepted the quest.
He fell back on his hands and knees, panting. His legs ached, his arms were tired, and every breath took twice the effort. Something pulsed away from his core with every breath, spreading energy around his body.
But he couldn’t stay in place forever. No matter how tired he was, he had to keep moving, or he’d just be monster food. He didn’t know that they always came out at night, but it’d only make sense.
As he reached down for his backpack, the trees shook behind him. He froze in place.
“Good afternoon!” came a distant voice. “I figured you would be here, and I was right!”
Oh no.
Jace whirled around, searching for the voice’s source. A man-shaped shadow stood at the edge of the pond, up on a ridge of stone. It took a step forward, entering a ray of light.
The man wore a simple grey robe with red and black embroidery. His wide-brimmed hat hid most of his face, but he leaned on his walking stick casually and un-threateningly.
The moment Jace’s gaze passed over him, a tag appeared over his head: [Level 31 Aes Wielder – Soul-Circle Opening – Third Stage]
Jace’s eyes widened. His legs wanted to run away, but his mind told him to stay. If this man was friendly, then maybe he’d help.
Besides, Jace had barely dealt with level four scavengers. No way was he escaping a level thirty-one wizard-wielder thing.
“Th—they?” Jace asked. “Who? Who are you?”
The man didn’t move. Jace stepped closer. With every step, he picked out a new swirl of red embroidery on the man’s robes or a new scar on his gnarled hands. The walking stick was perfectly straight and smooth, and around its tip were two bands of glowing orange light.
Jace stopped five paces away from the man. “Who are you?”
The man chuckled and looked up. The shadow of his hat lifted, revealing his mouth—bent into a kind smile. Softly, he said, “I am Kinfild.” He lifted his walking stick and pressed it into the ground, and a puff of orange sparks leapt from the impact point.
Jace pointed his rifle at the man.
“I was waiting five days for you, then for an hour after you walked out of that cave,” said Kinfild. “Put that away. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have. The Crimson Table sent me to aid you, so aid you I will.”
Jace lowered the rifle an inch.
“You are confused, yes?” A foreign accent clung to Kinfild’s speech. It wasn’t hard to understand, but it was entirely different from anything Jace had ever heard. Kinfild cleared his throat, then added, “I apologize, then. My manners aren’t what they should be. You died. You have been reborn. You have embedded your Core Seed, and your connection to the Split should be stronger. Your core-cloud has been contained.”
“Died…” Jace breathed. He didn’t deny the fact—he would have been more shocked if Kinfild had told him he had lived through that surprise snowstorm with only a coat and touque—but it was the second statement that confused him. “Reborn?”
Kinfild nodded. “Reborn.” He tapped his finger against the side of his walking stick, then reached into the folds of his robe. He produced a small, metallic object wrapped in wires. A thin rod stuck out the top. “Hold still, if you will.”
Jace stepped back. Whatever that device was, he didn’t want anything to do with it. He’d seen what kinds of technology this world had. Maybe it’d disintegrate him on the spot.
“What part of ‘hold still’ did you not understand?” Kinfild snapped. “I already said I was not going to hurt you.”
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Before Jace could step back again, Kinfild pointed the device at him. It screamed out a burst of static. Jace flinched and ducked.
“Open your eyes, boy, and look,” Kinfild snapped. He held the device out towards Jace in a loose grip. A sheet of light as flat as paper projected out of the nest of wires and into the empty air. Nothing but pale white light. “And there it is. Just a hologram.”
Jace swallowed. Cautiously, he stepped forward again. The sheet of light had words on it.
[Interfacing with Split]
Loading…
[Assessing analytics]
Loading…
[Assessing attributes]
Loading…
[Assessing techniques]
Loading…
Scan complete. Displaying data…
Jace swallowed nervously as the words scrolled across the sheet of light. It took all his will not to run.
Then, the screen emptied, and a new set of letters poured down it:
[Gathered Analytics]
Name: Jace Scott Baldwin
Worldjumper #: 5
Class: Core Hunter
Advancement Progress: Foundation 1 (0%)
Standard Level Rating: 3
[Attributes]
Strength: 3
Vital: 10
Resistance: 1
Agility: 7
Potency: 1
[Technique Cards]
Trigger Hyperjump
[Significant Items]
Nee-Fieldmen Mk III Aes Rifle
[Titles]
Worldjumper #5 (no effect) (cannot be removed)
Jace’s mouth fell open.
“Indeed, a worldjumper,” said Kinfild.
“What are those numbers?” Jace asked. “The Attributes?”
“Just a base analysis of your physical capabilities,” Kinfild answered. “Around ‘three’ is average for a person your age, though most are usually higher or lower depending on the person.” With a satisfied grunt, he tucked the device back into his robe, then looked up at the sky. “It’s almost teatime, and Aur-Six is expecting us. We will be out of the wind, there will be food, and I will get you caught up on what you need to know. Come along.” He waded through the knee-high grass and shrubs, marching away from Jace.
Jace’s stomach began to gnaw and growl. For a moment, he paused and looked down at his backpack. He had one more ration bar in there somewhere.
But it was best to save that for an emergency. Kinfild was offering warm tea and pleasant food, and he could lead Jace to society. To someplace safe. Jace sprinted up the shore and fell into step beside the man. “Where are we going?”
“My starship.” Kinfild pointed his walking stick ahead, through the packed trunks of the forest.
Star…starship. Jace swallowed. He’d seen one before, but it had been a crashed lump. Starship. Starship. His mind ran in circles around the word, and he couldn’t stop it. He was actually going to get in one?
“Are those…scavengers going to keep following us?”
“No, you made a good mince of them, and it was quite impressive.” Kinfild tapped his staff on the ground again. “While I was waiting for you, I took to disrupting their operations—they are unsavoury folk—but I never quite finished them off.”
“Did they have magic?”
Kinfild snorted. “No. Few do. The Split still rates them, though, based on their base Attributes and combat proficiency. Wielders, those who can draw in Aes and use it, are rarities, but we still cannot see our Attributes without a Reader.”
Jace gulped. “Do I have magic?”
“You have a high spiritual potential, higher than most Wielders, which allows you to interface with the Split directly.”
“If magic is so rare, why’d those scavengers know what I was?”
“Their job is to collect the galaxy’s rarities. This is really what you’re hung up on?”
“Well…”
As they walked, the trees thinned out, and ahead, thicker rays of sunlight pierced through the canopy. The branches didn’t snap at him as much. The bushes at his feet melded into knee-high grass.
Then, after about an hour of walking, the forest ended in an abrupt line, dumping him out onto a lavender prairie. They kept walking until the forest was just a strip of dark purple on the horizon behind them.
When they reached the top of a small hill, a dark silhouette appeared on the horizon. It was angular and metallic, and it perched on three struts like some foreign, misshapen bird. He stared at it until Kinfild tapped his shoulder.
“Don’t delay, now,” the old man said, still walking.
“Where…where are we right now?” Jace asked
“Lyvarion.” Kinfild adjusted his hat, and his beard shook in amusement. “In the countryside, some thirty leagues west of the Candleshire.”
“Lyvarion?” Jace tilted his head. “That’s a planet?”
“Indeed. One in millions.”
“H—have you heard of a planet called Earth?”
“I know where you are supposed to be from, Jace Baldwin.” Kinfild stopped and pressed the tip of his walking stick against Jace’s chest, forcing him to stop as well. “Your home is not part of this galaxy. Maybe it is located in this universe, far, far away—across the great cosmos—but it is out of my sight. Certainly out of your reach.”
“Did you bring me here?” Jace blurted out. Kinfild stayed silent, so Jace pressed, “Can you send me back?”
“I cannot send you home; there, you are dead,” Kinfild finally said. “And I didn’t bring you here. The Split summoned you. You have been reborn here, and here you will stay.”
Jace’s eyes widened, and he fidgeted with his fingers. If what Kinfild said was true (and it seemed too weird to be a lie), everything he had known was gone. Everything.
He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. He had more pressing concerns, like staying alive. They continued to walk. The wind picked up, blasting across the fields and rippling through the grass. Jace began, “Hey…uh, Mr. Kinfild, sir—”
“Just Kinfild will do.”
“Alright then. Are you taking me offworld?”
“For now, we are heading to the Luna Wrath—my ship. From there, we will judge accordingly.” Kinfild pointed his walking stick at the starship. Its hull was about fifty feet long, but it was thin and angular. Mismatched machinery, wires, ducts, and other components that Jace couldn’t name covered every inch of the hull. A single large fin protruded from the ship’s stern, nearly as tall as the ship was long. Just in front of the fin, a smokestack belched grey soot. This was a proper starship?
They arrived at one of the vessel’s flanks. Kinfild pounded on the hull of the ship with his walking stick. Something whirred, and a panel folded outwards. It formed a ramp up into the interior of the starship.
Kinfild walked up the ramp. Hesitantly, Jace stepped onto it as well. It seemed sturdy enough. He followed Kinfild into the ship, and they entered a gloomy central chamber. Boxes and crates lined the edges, and in the center, there was a seating area—a bench upholstered with dark red fabric and surrounded by potted plants. Green plants.
Toward the front of the starship, a pair of chairs perched in front of an outward-banked viewscreen. Kinfild walked towards the seat on the left and tapped a glowing button on the wall beside it.
Another whir came from behind him. The ramp they had climbed up closed. Jace spun around and rushed towards it, his heart pounding even faster.
“Be calm,” Kinfild told him. “If you want to leave, I will let you. I just assumed you would want some quiet.” Once the ramp clanged shut, the wind and rustle of grass outside faded. Just a faint mechanical hum emanated from beneath the deck plates.
As Jace’s heartbeat slowed down, he decided that the plain, unstimulating room was a welcome change.
“Please, have a seat,” Kinfild motioned towards the upholstered bench.
Jace did. “Who are you?” Kinfild had never given him a proper answer.
“I am Kinfild.”
“I—” Jace pushed up his touque and grabbed a clump of blonde hair in his hand. He knew that. “Alright, what are you?”
“I am a Wielder,” Kinfild said plainly. “A Split-Wielder. Though many know us as cultivators or wizards, I much prefer the term Wielder. Simpler, less baggage. And it is my duty to guide you.” The man marched over to the bench and sat on it—a couple feet away from Jace. “You are one of the worldjumpers, summoned into this galaxy to aid us. There are many Wielders in the galaxy, Mr. Baldwin. But only a few—the worldjumpers—can harness their powers in the way you can. You can interact directly with the Split, a logic system of sorts, which governs all magic in the galaxy.”
Tilting his head, Jace met Kinfild’s gaze. The man looked as confident as could be.
“In time, you will understand.” Kinfild rose to his feet. “But you had a vision, yes? Of an enormous golden being striking you?”
“I…did.”
“Then you have seen more of the Split than most regular Wielders ever dream of. It is a pseudo-god pseudo-computer that manages the galaxy’s arcane, and that is about all I know.” He turned towards the stern of the ship, and called, “Aur-Six?”
A door on the back wall hissed open with a puff of steam. Smoke and mist poured from the room behind it. A small creature prowled out from the gloom. It didn’t walk—rather, it rolled along on miniature tank treads. It had a boxy body and an angular head with a single, mechanical eye. Two spindly arms sprouted out from its body, which it used to carry a tray of porcelain cups and dense white cakes.
Jace leapt to his feet and stepped back, but he wasn’t fast enough. The creature charged at him, chittering in a language of clanks and sputtering. Jace raised his rifle and laid his finger on the trigger.
“Aur-Six, stop,” Kinfild ordered. “Mr. Baldwin is our guest.”
The creature—Aur-Six, Jace assumed—halted. It tossed its head like an annoyed child. Then, muttering soft, metallic complaints, it set the tray down on the table.
“Please forgive his manners,” Kinfild said. “He’s just a worker kyborg, and hasn’t been trained much for sapient interaction.” He laid a hand on Aur-Six’s rusty head and whispered, “If you can’t mind yourself, I’ll send you back to shovel more starcoals into the furnace.”
Aur-Six lowered his head.
“That’s what I thought.” Kinfild shook his head, then pointed back towards the seats. “Now, where were we?”
“Why should I come with you?” Jace asked. He stayed standing. Sitting didn’t seem pleasant anymore, and neither did eating or drinking. “Why shouldn’t I just run and hide, and make the most of being…reborn?”
Kinfild snorted. “I cannot force you. But there is the slight issue of your survival. See, that hypercore you took in—ingenious, by the way, but still very, very unwise—is unstable. Combine that with whatever happened to jam up your worldjump, and you have put a ticking clock on your life. Yes, yes, the Core Seed will stave off the decay for a little while, but you’ll begin to decay again soon enough.”
Jace swallowed nervously. “And if I come with you?”
“I will teach you to use the Split and help you get through the early steps of arcane advancement and keep you alive longer.”
“So…I’m dead either way?”
“Not necessarily.” Kinfild rubbed the bottom of his chin with his knuckles. “If you can keep a steady rate of magical advancement, we can prolong the decay enough for you to survive. That means you will need to absorb more Aes—something your Class is perfectly suited to. It won’t be easy, and likely not pleasant, but you will not die.”
Jace stood still. Either take Kinfild’s offer, or go off on his own and figure things out?
Not die. Was that good enough? Would he be satisfied and happy?
Not dying had kept him alive for now, but he needed something more. And he needed the time to find it. If he didn’t go with Kinfild, he might never get it.
“Alright, you’ve got a deal,” Jace said. “I’ll come with you.”