Godbreaker. It was a moniker Hiran hadn’t heard in eons, and it wasn’t one he particularly liked, but it was enough to shock him into opening his eyes.
A grotesque creature filled his vision. It was bald, its pale scalp festooned with plugs and sockets from dozens of cables trailed. A single black eye stared back at him from the left side of its face. A bulky optical implant filled the cavity beneath its right brow.
The implant’s crimson lens rotated in its socket, whirring and clicking as it swept its gaze over Hiran. Bloodless lips moved beneath a small button nose as it spoke again.
“Slightly elevated heartbeat detected,” the creature said, in the feminine voice he’d heard a few moments ago. Its black eye blinked slowly, while its lens whirred and clicked again. “Diagnosis: standard emotional response to unusual circumstances. Conjecture: Hiran the Godbreaker still possesses mortal sensibilities, despite having received his Samsara Core and undergone the resultant genetic alteration.”
Genetic alteration? Hiran realized he was lying on some kind of medical gurney, so he sat up and looked down at his bare torso and arms. He saw golden and silver circuitry. He raised his hands. They were larger. His arms and chest bulged with muscle.
Hiran gasped sharply. So it was true. He’d been changed.
“Am I now a Starforged?” he muttered to himself.
“No, not exactly,” the creature said.
It had been standing next to his gurney, but it had taken several steps back. Hiran couldn’t help but glance at the creature’s legs. They were back-jointed and made of dull-gray metal, protruding from the underside of the creature’s dirty blue frock.
One of the many metallic limbs extending from the front of its blocky torso pointed at a spot several inches below Hiran’s navel. “You don’t have a Starforged Core, Hiran the Godbreaker. You have a Samsara Core. Starforged have Starforged Cores. Ergo, you are not a Starforged.”
“Yeah?” Hiran scratched the back of his head and took a deep breath. “So what am I? Come to think of it, what are you?”
“No current categorical label yet exists for an entity such as yourself, Hiran the Godbreaker,” the creature said. “Though if I may be so bold to suggest that you be deemed an Asura, given the title of the project through which you have been reborn.”
Asura, eh? Hiran couldn’t help but grin. As a child, he’d heard tales of foul, villainous men who defied the Starforged Court and were given horrific, endless punishments by Yamayana the Death Lord. The village storytellers called these men Asuras.
He chuckled softly and shook his head. That’s fitting.
“As for your second query, I am a Savant-Slave,” the creature said. “My Serial Code is L-One-Locus-Alpha.”
“A Savant-Slave…” Hiran peered closely at the creature. He’d seen a few Savant-Slaves in his previous life. From what he remembered, they were automatons, each of them an amalgamation of machinery fused with a corpse. The ones he’d come across had been layered in finery to mask their grotesque appearance and morbid nature, and they’d been completely servile, speaking only when they were spoken to and uttering mostly monosyllabic replies.
This one was obviously different. The frock draped across its misshapen body was stained with odorous fluids and did nothing to hide its wearer’s nature. Also, though the Savant-Slave’s pale features were impassive, there was no hiding the genuine curiosity and inquisitiveness in its black eye. It was also remarkably talkative.
Hiran could only shrug. A hundred years had passed since his death. Things would have changed, since then. He blinked.
“Wait. A hundred years?” He felt his jaw drop slackly open. “Really? What…”
“I anticipated your response,” the Savant-Slave said, its words tinged with smugness. “Loremaster Maruti will give you a full update on the socio-political starscape of the Ghandarna System later. Right now, all you need to know is that not much has changed since you died. Narayana, the Starforged Overlord is still in power. The rebel forces led by the Lady of Light have been crushed. The last of their remnants perished seventy-three Standard years ago, pincered by two battalions of Starforged Enforcers.”
“That’s not surprising.” Hiran grunted. “Like you said, the rebel forces were crushed. Anyway, what happened, happened. You mentioned a name just now. A Loremaster…”
“Indeed.” The Savant-Slave nodded. “My current owner is Loremaster Maruti, Beatific Starforged and Former Nineteenth Degree Sage of the Starforged Court.”
“Beatific, eh?” Hiran frowned and clenched his fists.
He knew the word. It was one amongst many Starforged used to measure their power. A Beatific Starforged stood beneath an Ascendant one, who in turn was below a Supreme Starforged. Narayana was one of the latter. Yamayana was another. In his previous life, Hiran had killed plenty of Ascendant Starforged before and fought a Supreme Starforged to a standstill.
“Yes. Loremaster Maruti’s Starforged Core is currently at the Beatific Stage, or B-Stage,” the Savant-Slave said. It… no, she pointed at Hiran again. “Yours is currently at the Hallowed Stage, or H-Stage. Unfortunately, Loremaster Maruti has been unable to resurrect you at your former strength, Hiran the Godbreaker. However, every analytical forecast we have conducted indicates that you will regain and eventually surpass it in time.”
Hiran looked down at where his Mortal Core was supposed to be and reached out to it. As he’d expected, it was gone.
Something else sat in its place.
This strange new Core responded readily to his will and began cycling scant threads of Aether through his body, before dissipating them not to his meridians, but into the gold and silver circuitry lining his limbs and torso, causing them to glow with a faint light.
“As you have just discovered, your Samsara Core will not channel Aether into your mortal meridians, which remain despite the changes your body has undergone,” the Savant-Slave said. “It will fuel your Empyrean Circuits instead, which will eventually be able to contain and process far more Aether than any mortal meridians ever can.”
“These are my Empyrean Circuits, I assume.” Hiran gingerly prodded the silver and golden lines of light running across his chest with his fingers. “I’ve seen these on Starforged before. The Starforged Enforcers have mostly gold ones, while the ones who do the thinking and planning, the Sages, have the silver ones. Some Starforged, the Generals especially, have both.”
“Slight correction: All Starforged have both types of Empyrean Circuits.” The Savant-Slave nodded. She pointed to a golden line on Hiran’s forearm. “Starforged Enforcers have few duties beyond battle, so most of them would be preoccupied largely with their Empyrean Circuits of the Sun, which enhance their physical capabilities.”
She then pointed to a silver line on Hiran’s chest. “In contrast, Starforged Sages take on tasks that are far more cerebral in nature. Therefore, they find more use out of their Empyrean Circuits of the Moon, which augment their capacity for parsing and processing data. Starforged Generals will need to utilize both sets of their Empyrean Circuitry, since their duties involve both combat and strategizing.”
The Savant-Slave reached out and tapped a metal digit against Hiran’s temple. “You can check the status of your Core and your Circuits with your Ajna Interface.”
That’s right. I suppose I do have one now.
Hiran rubbed his jaw. “How do I use my Ajna Interface? I’ve never had one before.”
“That is consistent with what historical records indicate about Hiran the Godbreaker,” the Savant-Slave said, a hint of satisfaction within her otherwise monotone voice. “In life, Hiran the Godbreaker was tremendously inept with even the most basic forms of technology. There were speculations about his literacy or lack thereof, despite the presence of many verified accounts of him being able to read and write. Nevertheless, it is a recorded fact that he was unable to operate most appliances and has never been able to pilot any vehicle.”
“That’s pretty harsh, but also very fair.” Hiran smiled wryly. “I don’t like dealing with fancy machines, and I never learned how to drive or fly. And to be completely honest, I’m still not that good at reading or writing. I only learned how to do all that after leaving my childhood far behind me.”
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“So it’s true, then?” The Slave-Savant trembled with excitement, much to Hiran’s surprise. Her monotone voice now carried with it a lilt of genuine interest. “You learned how to read and write from the Lady of Light herself?”
“Yes, Keyi taught me, and it wasn’t an easy task for either of us.” Hiran couldn’t help but smile. “When you’re a grown man, learning your letters is more difficult than mastering an Aetheric Path or a Martial Form. Teaching a grown man how to read and write must be even worse.”
“Excellent!” The corners of the Slave-Savant’s mouth twitched, utterly shattering her mask of mechanical impassivity. “You have corroborated my records, Hiran the Godbreaker! Please corroborate the following. You were a master of the Formless Aetheric Path and the Darkened Mist, Twinned Songs, Woven Cloud, and Stride of the Conqueror Martial Forms. Is that accurate?”
“Yes.” Hiran shrugged. “But do you even know what Aetheric Paths and Martial Forms are? I mean, I’m usually not one to judge by appearance, but you definitely don’t look like a Warrior or a Cultivator at all.”
“I’m neither, but I do know what they are.” The Slave-Savant’s black eye unfocused its gaze, and she fell silent for a brief moment. When she spoke again, her words emerged through her lips as if by rote. “Aetheric Paths are different ways mortal Cultivators use to cycle Aether through their Cores. Martial Forms are specific sets of techniques Starforged Enforcers and mortal Cultivators use in battle.”
“Very good.” Hiran clapped his hands softly. “You’re very knowledgeable.”
“I currently possess five hundred trillion yottabytes of data in my memory banks. And that’s less than a tenth of a percent of my total storage capacity. Perhaps one day, I will acquire enough information to use it all up.”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, but if it’s a goal you aspire to achieve someday, I wish you all the best in doing so.” Hiran took a moment to study his surroundings. The gurney he’d been lying on sat in the middle of what seemed to be a vast cavern, though the faint scent of ozone conversion dispersals hanging in the air suggested that he was now probably somewhere in the middle of an asteroid rather than deep underground. No need for an oxygen supply if you’re planetside, after all.
Steel lamps mounted into the ceiling shed their harsh, white radiance over the beeping terminals arrayed across the roughly hewn stone walls. Cables of every length, thickness, and color were nestled in their midst. A heap of glass tubes, columns, and chambers sat behind his gurney.
Ten or so strides away from where Hiran sat, there was a massive coffin-like object. Its surface was metallic, and its sides were covered in labels and diagrams. He peered at them closely and realized that though he could read the words on their surfaces, he couldn’t make any sense of what they said.
“That was your Vessel Pod,” the Savant-Slave explained. “Loremaster Maruti retrieved your soul from the Ghandarna Engine and fused it into a body he had cloned from genetic material you left behind in the Overlord’s throne room. With my assistance, he then implanted the Samsara Core.”
She pointed to another strange apparatus, a twisted mess of metal and glass next to the Vessel Pod. Wisps of smoke rose from its ruptured chassis.
“That was the Soul Bridge,” she continued, “a one-of-a-kind prototype Loremaster Maruti built by incorporating Shanian… mysticism with Ghandarnian technology. That was what he used to retrieve your soul from the Ghandarna Engine. Unfortunately, the process has burned out its main circuitry and failsafe systems. The Soul Bridge cannot be used again until it has been repaired, but that is unlikely, as we lack the necessary components, and we have no means of securing replacement parts from our Shanian contacts.”
“I see.” Hiran glanced at a set of doubled steel doors at the far end of the cavern. “Where is Maruti now?”
“He left to attend to some calibrations while the Samsara Core changed you on a genetic level.” The Savant-Slave cocked her head, causing the cables trailing from her skull to rattle. She then nodded to Hiran. “You’re able to stand, so stand.”
She grabbed a large gray robe from a nearby rack and held it out to him. “I am not perturbed in the least by nudity, but most Starforged and mortals prefer to be clothed, so put this on, and follow me.”
Hiran swung his feet off the gurney and stood. As he shrugged on the robe, he noticed just how much taller he was than the Savant-Slave. The top of her head would barely reach his hip.
The Savant-Slave strode toward the doors on her back-jointed legs. They slid open with a pneumatic hiss as she approached. Hiran followed her through them and into a narrow corridor of hewn stone.
“Where are we going?” he asked her.
“Loremaster Maruti has just instructed me to bring you to his training arena. He will meet us there,” the Savant-Slave replied. “On the way, we will pass through his reception gallery, where Li Zhen should still be loitering, before making a stop at Storage Bay Delta.”
“Why? What is in Storage Bay Delta?” Hiran wondered. “And Li Zhen? That’s a person you’re referring to, isn’t it? He, or she, has an unusual name.”
“Li Zhen is a Shanian from the Shan Confederacy.” The Savant-Slave stopped in her tracks and looked at Hiran. “It appears you recognize those terms. Good. I won’t have to explain what the Shanian Confederacy is.”
“It’s the neighboring realm,” Hiran said. “I know that much, at least. I just haven’t met many foreigners before.”
“During your previous life, foreigners were far and few throughout the Ghandarna System. Things are different, now.”
The corridor soon terminated in another set of doors which also slid apart upon the Savant-Slave’s approach. Beyond them was a furnished room, with walls of layered synthcrete rather than bare stone and crystal chandeliers instead of stark lamps. A set of cushioned couches was arrayed around a marble table with inset amethysts on its surface and gilded legs holding it above the lushly carpeted floor.
A short, plump mortal sat upon one of the couches, sipping from an amber-hued bottle. He raised his drink to the Savant-Slave upon spotting her.
“Hello, dollface!” he said, in perfectly accented Ghandarnian. “How are you?”
“You were scheduled to leave an hour ago, Master Li Zhen,” the Savant-Slave said, notes of irritation present in her monotone voice. One of her forelimbs pointed at the bottle in Li Zhen’s grasp. “And now you are intoxicated, which means we will have to suffer your company for another five to six hours.”
“I’ll just pop a stimm-pack, and I’ll be fine to go in thirty minutes or so.” Li Zhen took another swig from his bottle. He gestured to the far end of the room, which was paneled in voidglass. The swirling abyss of open space yawned beyond the ten-foot-thick transparent wall, confirming Hiran’s guess that they were now in an asteroid. “Look at that. Pure emptiness! Sucks at your soul, I say. I need to unwind a bit more before heading out there again.”
“Do what you must.” The Savant-Slave strode in, and Hiran followed her.
The Shanian gasped as he spotted Hiran. He dropped his bottle in astonishment. “By the Benevolent Ones! Did Project Asura work? Is that… the Godbreaker?”
“It is, Master Li Zhen,” the Savant-Slave confirmed. “However—”
“He is wonderful!” Li Zhen cried. Tears rolled down the sides of his cheeks. “I cannot believe my eyes. In all my fevered prayers to the Benevolent Ones, I would never have imagined I would have been blessed with such grace as to lay eyes upon the Godbreaker, reborn as he must be to fulfill his destiny.”
“What destiny?” Hiran demanded, more than a little discomforted by the Shanian’s behavior. His frown deepened as the Shanian fell to his knees, clasped his hands before him, and began mumbling under his breath. Wait, what? Is he praying?
“We must proceed, Hiran the Godbreaker,” the Savant-Slave said, before striding past Li Zhen and toward another set of doors at the far end of the gallery. “We should not keep Loremaster Maruti waiting.”
Leaving the Shanian behind, Hiran followed her into another winding stone corridor. He glanced over his shoulder as the doors to the gallery slid shut behind him. “You mentioned your Shanian contacts just now. Was that fellow back there one of them? Did he provide the things Maruti used to bring me back to life?”
“Li Zhen is just a courier with above-average piloting skills, a knack for discreet smuggling, and undying loyalty to his employer, Scholar Bei Feng, who has proven himself to be a close ally to Loremaster Maruti. It was only through a collaboration between the two of them that you are now once more amongst the living.”
“Right.” Hiran took a deep breath and looked down at his hands again. He felt his heart beating steadily in his chest. “So I’m alive now. I really am. I thought I was undergoing another of the Abyss’s torments again, but now I’m sure that isn’t happening. I’m not in the Abyss anymore. I’m here, and I’m alive.”
“Yes, you are, Hiran the Godbreaker.” The Slave-Savant nodded. She looked at him with her crimson lens for a moment. “Assessing… assessment complete. Your vital signs are all normal, though you should consume some nutrients within the next fifty-nine minutes.”
“Consume… ah, you mean eat something.” Hiran laughed softly and patted his belly. “Yes, I could do that.”
“There are nutrient packs and a reheating cube in Storage Bay Delta,” the Slave-Savant said. “You should be able to reheat some and consume them without missing our projected meeting time with Loremaster Maruti, but we need to hasten our pace for that to happen.”
The Savant-Slave started walking again, but before she could take more than a few strides, Hiran called out to her. “Wait.”
She glanced back over her shoulder and cocked her head, rattling her skull cables against her shoulders. “What is it, Hiran the Godbreaker?”
“I… uh. Well…” Hiran cleared his throat. “I just want to say thank you. Thank you very much for bringing me back to life.”
“How curious. My records portray Hiran the Godbreaker as a highly aggressive and warlike individual, with little consideration for any social niceties or patience for others.” The Savant-Slave began walking again, speaking along the way. “Yet, the personality analyses I’ve been running on you since you woke up indicate high degrees of agreeableness, curiosity, empathy, moderate degrees of extraversion and conscientiousness, and a slight but noticeable tendency toward neuroticism.”
“Neuroticism? Really?” Hiran laughed softly, striding after her. “Well, I guess you will have to correct your records, then.”
“Yes, though my analyses raise quite a conundrum: how did an individual with traits such as yours lead the Rebellion against the Starforged Court, an uprising that resulted in unprecedented degrees of death and destruction across the Ghandarna System?” the Savant-Slave asked, fiddling with her metallic forelimbs. “A drastic change must have occurred. But how? How did Hiran the Godbreaker change?”
“He changed by dying and then spending a long time in the Abyss,” Hiran said quietly. “Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe after everything that’s happened, he just doesn’t have to be who others wanted him to be anymore.”
“I don’t understand. Please elaborate.”
“Maybe later.” Hiran shook his head.
“Acknowledged.” The Savant-Slave came to a halt before a metal panel. One of her forelimbs danced their metal digits across the keypad upon its surface. The panel slid open, revealing a cavern that was much larger than the one he’d woken up in. “ We have arrived at Cargo Bay Delta. Come. It’s time to get you armed and armored.”