Sand and shattered steel marked Outpost Delta, a forsaken scar in the endless Cairo Desert. Within its crumbling walls, Viro cradled Volt's newly reassembled form, his body crisscrossed with fracture lines like ancient pottery imperfectly restored. The Dark Tachyon Desecrator pulsed against his chest, its runes brightening before it began to sink into his flesh, metal and energy melding with skin and bone.

  A shimmer of impossible shapes flared suddenly as the artifact disappeared completely into Volt's body, fracturing the air before vanishing into stillness. Fractals of light danced across his reconstructed features, tracing the paths where the Desecrator had merged with him. Then the glow faded, leaving him motionless once more, the artifact now part of him rather than separate.

  The dimensional tear appeared without warning—a perfect vertical slice in reality that parted like curtains. Through it stepped a lone figure, his presence immediately filling the derelict outpost with unspoken power.

  "So this is where you've hidden yourself, Viro," Vidvan observed, his voice carrying a measured cadence that commanded attention without effort. "What magnificent desperation you've shown. Taking the Dark Tachyon Desecrator from our vault—this is not some trinket you've stolen, but something that predates Earth."

  Viro shifted, positioning herself between Vidvan and Volt's unconscious form. Blood still crusted her temple, fatigue etched into every line of her face. "I did what I had to, Lorekeeper. The Desecrator was gathering dust in your vault while a raider who saved countless lives was left to disintegrate."

  Vidvan circled them with unhurried grace, studying Volt's reconstructed form with measured fascination.

  "You see, when a river meets a mountain, it doesn't ask permission to find its path," he said, kneeling to examine the thin fracture lines crisscrossing Volt's skin. "But diverting sacred waters carries consequences you cannot yet comprehend. Do you understand what you have unleashed? The boundary you have crossed is not just institutional—t is fundamental to existence itself."

  "I saved him," Viro countered, jaw tight with defiance. "That's all that matters."

  Vidvan smiled—a gesture that never reached his eyes.

  "Your horizon is limited by attachment. You see only what is in front of you, not the ripples that spread beyond." He extended a hand toward Volt, not quite touching him. "This vessel now contains a force ancient beyond measure—a contradiction walking in human form. This deserves either immediate execution or... careful study."

  Viro tensed, her body coiled despite exhaustion. "You're one of the immortals," she said through gritted teeth, "an S-tier Ruler with power that could reshape reality. If anyone can fix him, it's you." Her voice carried equal parts desperation and challenge, as she begged the second most powerful being on Earth for help.

  "Of course," Vidvan replied, his tone softening though his eyes remained cold. "Your perspective may prove valuable. The universe has always worked this way—those who create problems often hold keys to their solutions. Come with me to Anchorpoint. This broken shelter offers nothing but sand and isolation. In my facility, we will understand what you have created."

  "I'm not your prisoner," Viro challenged, though her voice betrayed her exhaustion.

  "Prisoner?" Vidvan's eyebrows rose slightly. "No. You are far more useful conscious and cooperative than confined. But understand this clearly—my patience runs deep, but even the deepest lake has a bottom. Refuse to assist, and I will find another to unravel this puzzle you've reassembled.”

  "Viro stared at the portal Vidvan had created, calculation visible in her bloodshot eyes. "I stay with Volt. That's my condition."

  "A condition?" Vidvan's lips quirked with amusement. "How fascinating. Very well. You will serve as my assistant in this inquiry. This much I can allow."

  With reluctant determination, Viro gathered Volt's still form and stepped toward the portal. The desert heat vanished as they passed through, replaced by the cold sterility of Anchorpoint. Steel and stone loomed over a merciless sea, a fortress of cold truths perched on Australian cliffs, where researchers waged a silent war against the monstrous depths below.

  The observation chamber gleamed with clinical precision—a transparent cube within a larger laboratory space. Medical equipment hummed softly as Volt's reconstructed form lay motionless on an examination platform, fracture lines still visible across his skin like dark rivers mapping an alien continent.

  Viro stood nearby, her stance protective despite her formal positioning as Vidvan's so called assistant. Three days of recuperation had done little to soften her vigilance, though fresh clothes and medical treatment had erased the most visible signs of her ordeal.

  Vidvan circled the chamber, fingers trailing along display panels that responded to his touch with cascades of data. "Tell me, what did you experience when the Desecrator merged with him? What did you see, what did you feel in that moment?"

  "It was cold," Viro replied, her voice clipped. "Not temperature cold—deeper. Like existence itself was freezing. The air felt wrong, like it was folding in ways it shouldn't."

  "Yes, dimensional compression," Vidvan nodded, satisfaction coloring his tone. "You felt reality's fabric being manipulated at its core. You see, this Dark Tachyon Desecrator is not a simple artifact of power."

  He gestured, and the laboratory lights dimmed as holographic imagery filled the space—spiraling patterns of energy that defied conventional geometry.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "It operates beyond light itself—a dark tachyon, as we call it. In physics, anything faster than light is a tachyon—it moves backward through what we perceive as causality," he explained, his voice taking on a teaching quality.

  "This artifact carries information faster than light can travel, which means it violates the fundamental ordering of events—what comes before, what comes after."

  Vidvan's fingers wove through the holographic display, reshaping the patterns into more complex configurations.

  "Such a force could transmit information before it's even generated, completely invisible to our instruments. It disrupts the fundamental clockwork of reality—breaking the relationship between cause and effect. It's like having tomorrow's newspaper today, except on a cosmic scale."

  Viro frowned, her analytical mind cutting through the explanation. "So it's a hidden force that breaks the rules? What does that mean for Volt now that it's part of him?"

  "Ah, the practical question," Vidvan said with an approving nod. "The Desecrator doesn't merely attach to a host—it’s better to say that your friend is attached to it not the other way around.”

  "That's not an answer," Viro challenged.

  "Have you ever watched a seed transform into a tree?" Vidvan asked, approaching the observation chamber. "The process unfolds in its own time. What flows through him now cannot be easily categorized. This merger is unprecedented—a fractured existence joined with a reality-defying force. Perhaps this world shatters in an instant, or we are cast into the heart of a star. All threads of fate hang by a whisper now. Anything is possible, but I believe the System will handle it. Anything that tries to subvert it gets brought in line in a fast and vicious manner that is my personal experience."

  He pressed his palm against the transparent barrier, studying Volt with intense interest.

  "Look at this silent form, Viro. When the Desecrator fully awakens within him, the implications are vast. I see a vulnerability in his structure—under intense stress or energy discharge, the boundaries holding him to our reality could temporarily weaken."

  The holographic display shifted, showing a simulation of human form surrounded by distorted space.

  "Space itself might warp around him momentarily, reality rejecting his presence like an immune response. He may perceive things from other dimensional planes—glimpses of other realities, sensing distortions that nobody else can see, bombarded by information from beyond our dimension."

  Viro moved closer to the chamber, her expression hardening. "You're saying reality might break around him—or inside his head? That he might lose his grip on what's real?"

  "Reality is simply consensus among observers," Vidvan replied dismissively. "He might access skills he never learned, or recall events that contradict established history. The artifact may fundamentally alter how fundamental forces—gravity, electromagnetic energy, even time—interact with his being."

  He turned to Viro, his ancient eyes gleaming with possessive curiosity. "These are the questions that fascinate me. I don't seek certainties—I seek the boundless realm of possibility."

  "Damn it," Viro whispered, pressing her palm against the transparent barrier. "What kind of price is he paying for this?"

  "Price implies a transaction," Vidvan corrected gently. "This is transformation without consent or negotiation. The caterpillar doesn't choose to become a butterfly—it simply becomes."

  Night settled over Anchorpoint, the research facility's lights dimming to accommodate human circadian rhythms that Vidvan acknowledged but did not share. The observation chamber remained illuminated, Volt's still form under constant monitoring while Viro maintained her vigilant position nearby.

  Vidvan returned from one of his periodic absences, materializing silently beside a bank of analytical equipment. "Your dedication is remarkable. Three nights without proper rest—your body shows its limits."

  "I've gone longer," Viro replied without turning, her gaze fixed on the minute rise and fall of Volt's chest. "In the Lighthouse Crucible, we fought for days straight. This is nothing."

  "The body endures what the mind commands—until suddenly, it doesn't," Vidvan observed, studying the monitors displaying Volt's neural patterns. "Fascinating. Even unconscious, his brain activity defies normal patterns. The Desecrator reshapes him from within—neuron by neuron, thought by thought."

  Viro finally turned to face him, exhaustion etched in the shadows beneath her eyes. "Why are you really keeping him here? What do you want from him?"

  Vidvan's expression shifted subtly—a flicker of something almost human crossing his ancient features before the mask of serene detachment returned.

  "Have you ever considered why these rifts appear on our planet? Are they invaders at our gates, or simply natural phenomena indifferent to our existence?" His voice deepened with intensity. "Is Earth merely a testing ground where civilizations are either forged into greatness or reduced to ash? By whose design—or is it all random chance?"

  He gestured toward the window overlooking the churning sea, where faint dimensional scars occasionally flickered against the night sky.

  "And life—what we call life, with breath and blood—how limited our understanding. Beyond these tears in reality exist beings that think in ways completely alien to us, not just twisted versions of human thought, but consciousness operating on fundamentally different principles. We are not the pinnacle of creation, merely one expression among countless others."

  Viro crossed her arms, unimpressed by the philosophical tangent. "If it's all just some cosmic experiment, if there's no reason to any of this, why keep searching?”

  "Because knowledge is the only true immortality available to us," Vidvan answered, sudden intensity breaking through his measured tone. "What if this system of tiers, this constant struggle to advance, is merely the first trial? What if S-tier is not the summit, but merely a platform from which one might transcend existence itself?"

  He moved closer to the observation chamber, his reflection overlapping with Volt's still form in the transparent barrier.

  "I don't seek power or dominion—only understanding, the next hidden truth to uncover. This is what drives me, Viro, not the fleeting conflicts that occupy others."

  "You're using him," Viro stated flatly. "Just another puzzle piece in your collection."

  "As you used the Desecrator," Vidvan countered smoothly. "As you use your own abilities. We are all instruments of our deepest desires, playing different melodies in the same orchestra."

  Something flickered across Volt's features—a momentary tension quickly gone. Both turned to watch, but his stillness returned, the monitors registering only a brief spike in neural activity.

  "He dreams of dissolution," Vidvan observed. "Of boundaries dissolving and realities merging. The Desecrator communicates with him even now, restructuring his consciousness."

  Viro’s hand pressed against the transparent barrier, fingers splayed as if to reach through. "Will he wake up?"

  "An interesting question," Vidvan mused. "He will certainly return to consciousness. Whether the being that awakens remains the one you knew—that remains to be seen."

  "Rest now, fractured vessel," he murmured, more to himself than to Viro. "Your silence holds secrets waiting to be discovered. Soon, we will uncover what lies beyond the veil."

  He turned away, form silhouetted against the observation chamber's cold light, losing himself once more in the boundless ocean of his ancient curiosity—while Viro maintained her silent vigil, torn between hope and dread for what Volt might become when he finally awakened.