While in hyperspace, Jace forced his body to meld with the assigned attributes.

He had limits to reach, and the Attribute Shards would help his body reach them, but not without effort on his part. If he wanted the stats he had distributed, he had to earn them.

To train his strength, he swept and cleaned the Luna Wrath’s deck. He shifted crates and pots around, commanding the Attributes to move where he wanted them.

Well…as Kinfild had explained a few times, it wasn’t really the attribute points that were moving. He had absorbed Aes, a fraction of the Split’s power, and he was using it to bolster and enhance his muscles. When he had enough units of Aes, they condensed into Attribute Shards. It didn’t exactly get used, but it distributed his power through his body and changed how he interacted with the universe—for example, enhancing his strength without bulking up his muscles too much.

Most Wielders had to force their attribute distribution through careful cycling techniques, but a worldjumper could assign the points directly.

The hard part was just forcing the body to meld with the attributes after the fact. A Shard did about half of the work, and he had to do the rest. Regular Wielders wouldn’t have to worry about it; it was only worldjumpers who paid the consequences of easy distribution after the fact.

Over a few hours of pushing his body to the limit, Jace’s Strength and Vital attributes truly grew to match where his actual stats said they should be.

There wasn’t a concrete way to tell, except he could track his Aes-flow through his own body with his rudimentary spiritual senses. When it stopped flowing out into his muscles and skin, he knew his body had caught up to where it was supposed to be.

When he lifted a crate, it didn’t weigh nearly as much on his arms, and when he accidentally slammed his shoulder into a sharp frame of one of the Luna Wrath’s doorways, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should’ve—meaning the impact did less damage to his body.

The next problem was Resistance training.

If Resistance was his ability to push back against Curses and withstand them, and to stand firm with an unshakable stance, then he had to stress that part of himself and make himself more resilient.

Or, more accurately, tell his body he needed to be more resilient.

First, Kinfild had him enter a pushing contest with Aur-Six. Jace pushed on a box one way, and Aur-Six pushed the other way.

The little kyborg happily agreed. They pushed against each other, slowly enhancing his Resistance over the course of a few hours. He wasn’t sliding as fast backwards, but Aur-Six’s treads were still more powerful.

“Once you can resist Aur-Six completely,” said Kinfild, “we’ll have you practicing against some true Curses.”

“You can inflict Curses?” Jace asked.

“In a way. I have some basic technique cards that have some basic Curses like…hm, diminished Strength. None socketed right now, though.”

“And my Resistance rating clashes with a Curser’s Potency rating to determine whether the Curse sticks?”

“Essentially.” Kinfild was already turning around, but a faint beeping noise rang out from the cockpit. “We’re almost there. Get a shirt on, and meet me in the cockpit.”

Jace put his thumbs through the arm straps of an old, tattered sleeveless shirt that Kinfild had leant him for ‘workouts’. “This is a shirt…” Jace muttered, but he didn’t press the point. He didn’t want to be wearing sweaty clothes in a fancy library.

He pulled off the old shirt and tossed it on the cot, then tugged his other shirt over his head and walked back to the cockpit.

The Luna Wrath began to shudder and rumbled, ready to drop out of hyperspace at any moment. He grabbed onto a bulwark to stay upright, then staggered into the cockpit. By the time he arrived, the golden glow of hyperspace was already washing off the viewscreen. The black void replaced it.

He slipped into his chair just as the freighter gave one last heave, clutching onto the armrests just to stay in place.

The Luna Wrath had emerged from Hyperspace in front of an earth-like planet. It had oceans and a few green continents, and most of the equatorial region had a vast desert encircling it like a massive scar.

“This is Celacor VIII,” Kinfild said. “Or just Eight, as the locals call it. It once had a name, though it’s been long forgotten over the millennia.”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Jace scratched his head. “So…Kinfild, why’d Stenol want to attack this place?”

“Not this planet in particular,” Kinfild said. “He’s going after the whole star system.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“He knows it’s in a precarious location between three massive star-empires,” Kinfild suggested. “The Starrealm, the Phélese Empire, and the Koedor-Terginian Empire. It’ll threaten the Starrealm’s enemies, and they won’t be able to move fleets into position to defend it without raising tensions on the border.”

Jace snorted. That was a lot of words, and he only partially understood some of them. “Diplomatic significance, then?”

“It is also an incredibly old and storied star system. It had been the capital at some points, even of larger, ancient star-empires. It would be more of a statement than anything—that the Starrealm is not untouchable.”

“Great,” Jace muttered. “So he’s trying to make the Starrealm look weak and incapable of defending the Wall.”

The Luna Wrath descended through the atmosphere. Kinfild only barely slowed down when flames scattered across the viewscreen, and he pulled back on the control yoke, flattening out their descent.

They had descended over the equatorial desert, and now, they raced high over dunes and mountains of sand. Vast formations of red rock rose in the distant, and behemoth tracked vehicles trawled across the horizon.

“Eight has always been the most prominent planet of the Celacor System, and its capital, Fedar City, has been the system’s seat of regional power for centuries.” Kinfild pointed out the viewscreen ahead. A dark shape loomed to the west, like a lonely mountain rising out of the horizon.

After a few seconds, the layers of dust and sand peeled away, revealing the sandstone towers of a city and its sprawling outskirts.

“They chose to build it in the middle of a desert,” Jace grumbled. “Not exactly prime land for city-building.”

“They chose to put it exactly on the equator to symbolize central governance, accessible by all citizens.”

“...Sure.” Jace nodded. “So it has old libraries?”

“Ancient.”

“And we’ll find information about the queen-core there?”

“Correct.”

“We’d be better off splitting up,” Jace strategized. “I can ask around for information at a library on my own, right? You can go warn these Celacor people?”

“It’s a plan.”

The Luna Wrath passed over the outskirts of the city. Kinfild navigated into a lane of air traffic—starships and repeller-cars. They wove between towers and shot over rusting copper domes. Holographic signs shone in the city depths, but the sun bore down on the city so brightly that most of them were ineffective.

After a few minutes, they descended down into a stone plaza. The Wrath settled down amongst a cluster of other parked starships. They had white and chrome cladding and smooth edges, but their smokestacks still chuffed dark ash and their thrusters still glowed an ominous blue.

As soon as the starship settled down, Jace threw off his crash harness and jumped to his feet. “We don’t have much time, right? We should split up. If you’re going to warn the Thegn, then go. I’ll find what I can about the queen-core, and I’ll come find you.”

He took a step toward the boarding ramp, but stopped halfway. “Which…which way is the library.”

“It’s part of the palace complex,” said Kinfild, pointing at a sprawling structure ahead of them. “The Thegn’s palace.”

It was a broad, sprawling complex of beige sandstone and rusting copper ornaments. Gargoyles clung to the corners and statues held up the window frames.

“We can just…walk in?”

“The Thegn of Eight has one of the most extensive libraries in all of the galaxy. Thankfully, he does not hoard it among only known guests. We cannot wander the rest of the palace without permission, but the library? No one will pester you.”

“How will you get in and earn an audience with the thegn?”

“A Wielder of the Crimson Table has diplomatic privileges.”

Jace snorted. “Right, then.” They approached the wing of the palace right ahead of them. It didn’t have a grand entrance, and he doubted it was the palace’s main entrance, but it was a way in. Good enough.

Two copper statues, each twice as tall as him, stood watch on either side of the entrance holding books in their hands. Kinfild bowed his head as they passed between the statues and entered the library halls.

Inside the building was an enormous, open hall nearly twenty storeys tall. An atrium ran all the way up the center, but there were rings around the edge. Each looked like a minitature shelf, but they all held rows upon rows of bookshelves. People milled about, wearing long robes or suits or dresses.

“Is the…uh, thegn not worried about people stealing his books?” Jace asked.

“Books?” Kinfild asked.

Right. Space empire. No real books.

Kinfild shook his head. “Any of the real books are kept in vaults and hidden away from the public. Copies were made of them long ago.” He pointed left, toward a different, enormous hall that led deeper into the palace. “I will go find the thegn.”

“And I’ll…get searching,” Jace said.

They split apart. Kinfild marched off toward the inner-palace hallway. Jace took a single step into the library, but a golden sheet swirled into existence in front of him. [Subquest available: Kill One (1) Watchman. Reward: Twenty (20) Standard Aes Units]

He scrunched his eyebrows. The only reason it would give him a subquest like that was one was nearby. His heart pounded faster.

He whispered, “Accept,” mainly to make it go away. But the extra reward wouldn’t hurt if he got into a fight.

He began to walk faster. Get in, get what he needed, and get out before they attacked. It was all he could do.