Vibration tore through the air, raising every hair on Estelle's body. Her consciousness snapped awake, heart hammering to a rhythm that wasn't quite sound, wasn't quite silence—something etched deep into her flesh. A presence ghosted across her skin like static electricity, vanishing the instant she registered it. The sensation felt familiar—that sensation—the same distortion she had experienced when using the device to shift between locations, as if the air had forgotten how to carry normal sounds. Meaning pressed directly into her mind, bypassing her senses entirely, the artificial electronic words threading through her thoughts before she could even process them.
[SECTOR TELLA-BT2 GRID IS NOW ONLINE.]
[SUPPLY GRID RESTORED. SWITCHING TO PRIMARY POWER CAPACITOR MODULE.]
"Huh?" Estelle's head jerked skyward instinctively.
Above her stretched the same ceiling she had been before—an endless expanse of mercury-like texture liquid mass that pulsed and swayed like an inverted infinity pool. Behind its gelatinous surface, mechanical and organic tendrils writhed and twisted inward in perpetual self-consumpation. Their shifting forms distorted beneath the undulating waves, making the whole mass seem unnervingly alive. A green tinted luminescence pulsed within the fluid, too dim to fully banish the lurking shadows of the machinery.
“Huh…” she breathed, struggling to process the sudden intrusion of information. The words had come too quickly for her mind to grasp, yet somehow she understood perfectly. “Sector Tella-BT2? Online? Oh… Oh!”
As understanding finally settled, her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers unconsciously. "Damn, has it really been that long? I was just reading for a few minutes—how did hours pass? What the fuck?" Her frown deepened as a disturbing thought struck her. 'Did a timeskip happen, or something?'
Despite the invasive words, she half-expected something to happen—the flicker of lights, perhaps, or the usual whine of fans powering down before humming back to life. Her gaze remained fixed as seconds stretched into what felt like minutes, an uncomfortable sensation crawling across her skin—yet nothing changed. Odd.
Ignoring the unease; Estelle swayed slowly, pivoting in place as her leg itched. She pressed her sole firmly against the ground, methodically scanning every angle, ensuring no angle remained unwatched. Her attention drifted to the holographic displays stacked in chaotic layers before her, and a startled 'hik' escaped her lips as the repulsive sight registered. She had anticipated this from her initial impressions—but seeing it with her own eyes was entirely different.
The user interfaces sprawled in a cluttered mess, their borderless design bleeding into one another. The backdrop’s gradient faded at the edges, creating a visual tangle where faint text dissolved into dense document passage at the center. Though small gaps separated each display, that wasn’t enough. Something deep behind her eyes twinged—a creeping irritation she could hardly suppress.
She clenched her teeth, internally scolding herself. ‘Not again… Later—Now’s not the time to listen to Estelle’s whining again. I’ve had enough. Fuck off, OCD.’
Her fingers itched to impose order on the chaos, but before impulsiveness could take hold, she curled them into a trembling fist and exhaled sharply. "Now... Where the hell... What was I reading again?"
Leaning toward the nearest holographic display, she skimmed the long listing, her eyes jumping from the first sentences straight to the next paragraph. Her thoughts drifted hazily. 'Da-da-da-dan, the thing meant for this thingy... Aklithinic Material, it's a thing... with energy... should I get coffee...'
"Oh, I see!" Estelle gasped, snapping her fingers as realization struck. "Yes, I was reading the report... had to look up terms I didn’t understand... and now it all makes sense."
Memories slotted into place like falling dominoes, her past thoughts cascading into the present. With newfound clarity, she drew a symbol on the holographic display: white lines following her fingertip as she drew a circle, then cut it in half with a straight stroke. She lifted her fingers and watched the window vanish, her expression impassive
Several unwanted windows immediately sprang up in its place. Undeterred, Estelle methodically drew more symbols, closing the holographic displays one after another until a single window remained, displaying a lengthy list with numerous heading titles, and bullet points below:
[---]
REPORT: Consciousness Transfer Protocols
Directive index table:
Request:
1. Locating transferable vessels to house an Architect’s consciousness.
2. Details on the transfer process
3. Recall of Consciousness to Original Body (Estelle Nytelles)
4. Cautions on transferring consciousness
Reference ID: ACT-GT-MAP-221231.221.B
Date: 221231.211 (TRIGON STATION Time)
Priority: Standard
Classification: Architect-Class Transfer Protocol
Authorization Class Level: None
System Operator: PITO-HI1
[R1.] VESSEL LOCATION PROTOCOLS:
[ACCESS POINT: Gestation Hall Interface Mapping v.8.2]
Primary vessel identification methodology via:
- Direct Interface Connection Protocol (DICP-λ)
- Digital Realm Navigation Matrix (DRNM Series 7)
- Quantum Consciousness Resonance Detection Array (QCRDA)
[R2.] TRANSFER METHODOLOGIES:
Entity Classification: Estelle Nytelles-AC-A001
Pattern Status: Active
Neural Complexity: Administrator Class
- Direct Resonance Transfer Protocol [DPTP-α]
System Requirements:
- Transfer Facilitation Array (TFA-925v2)
- Vessel Compatibility Index >85%
- Pattern Imprint Stabilization Matrix - Digital Realm Navigation [DRN-ω]
Operational Sequence:
- Interface Mapping Connection (IMC Protocol Suite)
- Vessel Quantom Conversion Chamber Series V7
- Pre-Selection Algorithm Integration
- Facility-Mediated Transfer [FMT-γ]
Operational Sequence:
- Remote Facility Uplink Protocol
- Quantum Transportation Matrix
- Neural Migration Oversight System
VESSEL COMPATIBILITY METRICS:
Critical Parameters:
- Bio-Pattern Compatibility Index (BPCI)
- Consciousness Resonance Quotient (CRQ)
- Vessel Integrity Coefficient (VIC)
- Residual Consciousness Trace Analysis (RCTA)
[R3.] RETURN PROTOCOL MATRIX:
Subject Classification: Estelle Nytelles-A001
Primary Return Sequence:
1. Pattern Conscious Pass Gate Initialization
2. Consciousness Tether Termination Protocol
3. Neural Pattern Realignment Sequence
4. Gestation Hall Interface Integration
5. Subterminal Faciltiies
6. Integrated Station Devices
[R4.] CRITICAL PARAMETERS:
1. Non-Architect Limitations:
- Transfer Capability Index: Limited
- Device Dependency: Critical
- Vessel Degradation Coefficient: Variable
- Architect Limitations:
* No operational limitations detected
* Override clearance: Maximum
[END REPORT]
[---]
The report was long—excessively so—and packed with dense jargon that overwhelmed her already exhausted brain at first glance. Despite the mental strain, she deemed it as a high-piority concern, forcing her to grasp at least a basic understanding of the requested information. Fortunately—or unfortunately—most of the text was accompanied by hyper-contextual symbols that allowed Estelle to access their actual meaning. This, however, only led to a chaotic mess of visuals, holographic windows stacking haphazardly atop one another.
Estelle sighed, relief flowing through her shoulders. “Let’s not get distracted again—this is just taking way too long… but…”
Yet despite her complaints, she found herself surprised by how the content held her attention. The report fascinated her—detailing the mechanisms of different constructs, scientific reasoning, and technological devices that seemed impossible in her previous world. Like phenomena straight from a science fiction novel penned on distant planets. Though, like those imagined worlds, Estelle lacked the expertise to judge how realistic these details might be.
Stolen novel; please report.
She forced out a burst of air, a fake cough. ‘Excuse me, but… why question whether this is realistic when it IS reality? Am I stupid?’ she mocked herself. “Or is it…?”
Lifting her fingers, she traced along the lines of text, searching for where she'd left off before falling into the rabbit hole of hyperlinked contexts. As her eyes followed her fingertips, her thoughts drifted in familiar patterns, as if she'd contemplated this before. 'Though... most details here confirmed what I expected, except for the actual mechanisms behind it all—I mean, how was I supposed to know certain materials disrupt communication for biological-made frequencies? I mean, it makes sense, but that didn’t come to mind at first. Oh well... Oh? Here's where I stopped...'
Her fingers paused on prominent text—larger font, increase weight—marking R4, her fourth request. She tapped the screen, her fingers instinctively pressing into the holograph as if expecting physical resistance—a subconscious urge to interact with the display more tangibly.
'Non-architect limitations?' she hummed thoughtfully. 'And the descriptions... da-da-dat—alright. Makes sense. There are stories about cults trying to replicate ancient technology, and that legend about a Techpriest who performed a ritual, transferred bodies, and gained... well, not ability exactly, but an overpowered form. I doubt it's possible for a mortal—someone without a Pattern—to access architect abilities built into the bodies... Can't remember that legend's name though.'
She nodded to herself absentmindedly as the details continued to confirm her understanding, reinforcing memories of other stories and characters. Their images flickered in her mind—vivid yet nameless. The final section, addressing Architect's limitations, stated nothing prevented her, an Architect, from transferring consciousness. She hummed, straightening as she stretched with a low groan. "That... makes sense? Huh... I mean, sure... But weren't there an Architect that was cease from exis—"
"Oh," her eyes snapped wide, words cutting off as realization struck. 'I see... That makes sense... The Architect's side might not actually know about things that could... well, ‘harm’ them? Is that even the right word?'
She lowered her gaze to the following list, only to find herself at the text's end. Estelle swallowed, inhaling sharply. "Okay—So, the only thing we need to worry about is not dying—"
Raising a finger, she began counting off points. "No one should discover we're Architects, we must be careful with our bodies, and lastly, since we can't transfer independently—can't just snap into a different body due to my current form's limitations—we need the help of the facilities to even do so. This works out, since we need to gather resources and send it back—still need to double check and configure the on board portal on this ship. But later, that’s for later. Oh… But we also need a facility that has a nearby portal…”
Absentmindedly, she drew another symbol on the report and dismissed the display. Her gaze settled on the main terminals of the gestation hall, and a familiar twitch crept beneath her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line before releasing a resigned sigh.
'Okay, time to actually do this,' she thought, pivoting toward the holographic map of the gestation hall.
“So…” Her fingers hovered over the leftmost icon, reminiscent of a computer taskbar. “The report mentioned facilities with communications stations, their sub-terminals or main terminals can link together through mapping access. And apparently I can make requests…” She shook her head. “I’ll tackle that later—I want to figure out how to transport materials here later on. For now, let’s focus on body transfer.”
Her fingers traced the icon list from top to bottom. Blue and gold symbols dominated the display, their geometric patterns ranging from simple to complex. Some featured rings encircling boxes. Her artist’s eye twitched—the icons weren’t exactly poorly designed, but they carried a hint of randomness, as if thrown together at the last moment. Still, they didn’t stand out either.
Estelle forced out a sharp breath, expelling the analytical distraction. These interface details were irrelevant—she knew this, kept reminding herself of it. Her creation waited outside, vast and for the first time, just beyond her sight.
Fighting the urge to dissect every visual element, her eyes locked onto a familiar icon—the one she had committed to memory. She nodded, whispering, “finally.”
The symbol resembled a hybrid of familiar alphabets from her old world: an X bisected by a horizontal line that struck leftward through a circular O. Her finger tapped it once. Something flickered around the point of contact where flesh met hologram, then vanished just as quickly.
Estelle tilted her head. The interface had definitely reacted—unless her eyes were playing tricks again. She tapped once more, producing the same result: a brief burst of motion as the green-hued displays dimmed, something ephemeral materializing beneath her fingertips.
“Hmm?” She frowned, head bobbing slightly. ‘Does this not work?’
She tried again, this time pressing slower. The display responded—a circular wave of gray expanding outward, filming over every other color. Her breath caught, thoughts tumbling out in a gasp. “Ohhh, so that’s what I need to do…”
This new holographic interface differed from the others she'd encountered. Gray tones radiated from where her finger touched the center, and like the previous displays, it eschewed traditional borders. But what caught her artist's eye was the edge treatment—golden text floating in pools of blue light that gradient-blended with the gray backdrop in a way that seemed perfectly natural.
“Damn—” Estelle breathed, shaking her head softly. “Damn, I fucking love that typography—that UI is perfect. i , for one, can’t make UI to save my life. Whoever designed this has an eye for text placement. My hat’s off to you.”
Studying the display further, her gaze drifted across golden text until landing on a specific phrase: [Directive Subsystem Mapping].
“Ah—found it.”
She slid her finger across the display, maintaining contact. As she approached the text, distant elements faded elegantly away, drawing an raised eyebrow and grin from her. When her fingers entered the gradient of the main gate networking, new options materialized beneath them, solidifying into another window with the same ethereal design. Estelle shook her head in wonder. "Damn... Is this how the menu works? Fuck—I love this... I want to commission... or something..."
Her words trailed off, lips pressing tight as she remembered the impossibility of that thought. She pressed on, scanning the lighter-toned display. The border still held its array of text, but nothing else new caught her eye. She located [Main Gate Networking] and slid her fingers into it, conjuring another set of options.
Estelle hummed, nodding as she navigated through the options. From [Dimensional Realm Gate 2] among three choices, then to [Satellite Astris], she traced her way through the menus. The report's words guided her until she found [Facility Networking Connection Mapping-Astris Mortal Realm]. This time, no display materialized beneath her fingertips, prompting her to withdraw her hand.
The moment she broke contact, light erupted from the floating terminal's black displays. Beams shot upward, projecting a new interface beside the gestation hall map. Estelle followed with an amused gaze as she took in the sight.
A loading screen of shifting cubes appeared briefly before text rolled across the display:
[Connecting to the Central Node of Satellite Astris Main Gate...]
[Bridge established. Connection to the Central Node of Satellite Astris MainGate completed.]
Seconds later, the display transformed. A massive circular interface dominated the center, populated with clusters of 3D structural renders. The buildings appeared as weightless wireframes—like architectural blueprints or product design prototypes viewed from above. Floating text in sophisticated Architect script hovered over each structure, the typography so perfectly integrated it could only have come from a master artist's hand.
"Damnnnn, duddeee," Estelle grinned, her inner artist lighting up. "What the fuck... Who are the graphic designers in this Architect realm—I gotta meet them." Her smile widened. "We gotta hook up to make some cool shit, the fuck."
Immediately, a flicker of light burst behind the display—coming from the floating terminal as it projected rays of light from its black displays, shooting up another display appearing on the empty side of the map of teh gestation hall display. Estelle sent her gaze—her eyes slowly widened as she caught sight of the new display.
A loading screen of cubical shapes appeared—then replaced by the several text.
[Connecting to the Central node of Satillite Astris Main gate…]
[Bridge established. Connection to the Central Node Of Satillite Astris MainGate completed.]
A smile played at her lips as she noted the various menus scattered along the sides, but the map drew her attention first. She slid two fingers across the display and the map responded—making her jolt. It worked. Strangely it worked like any other mapping interfaces would. Pushing that feeling aside, she pinched outward. The map expanded, thousands of lines blurring past too quickly to identify, until the motion gradually settled.
Details crystallized: vast landmasses fragmented across the display—the map of Astris she had created. Or so she thought. Though stripped of its usual colors, the outline was unmistakable until closer inspection revealed imperfections. Certain regions weren't fully rendered, instead marked by hundreds of slanting lines that severed islands or obscured them entirely. Her confusion found partial answer in pale grey shrouds marked with green text: [(Disconnected)Satellite Astris Grid SOB-No.231]. Nearby, another section crosshatched with lines bore similar but different text: [(Malfunctioned)Satellite Astris Grid SOB-No.575].
Images flashed behind her eyes, vivid memories surfacing. “Oh, are these… These are flying things in the skies? Those black, quasi-planetary shapes…” She gestured vaguely. “Not all were round—I took so many screenshots of them with different characters, from various landscapes and angles… Since it was so cool. And to think these got registered here without me doing, that’s so cool. They’re definitely satellites, so I doubt I can do more other than mapping…”
Her fingers continued navigating as words spilled out , until a familiar outline emerged—the Haliaetus Kingdom. She nodded, memories still flowing. “I think one particularly… got involved in the story, or did something as an element was when Sinclair finally returned from Architect’s Realm, and the satellites started falling, to create another apocalypse. Good Grief…”
Another pinch zoom sent the map racing past countless islands until the Haliaetus Kingdom's capital filled the frame perfectly centered. Estelle smiled, though her attention was already darting across the display, recalling the numerous facilities scattered throughout the isle cluster.
"I want to... uh, find... if there's any kind of vessel I can use here..." She mumbled, organizing her thoughts. "At this point in the timeline, Haliatus is the only kingdom that... well, how to say it... thrives comparatively. It's the hotspot for active Architect facilities and relics. They built their society in this labyrinth of ancient stones, blessed with nearly unlimited water, protected from calamities and other nations. Of course they'd prosper." Her fingers traced the familiar geography. "I should take advantage, set up base here—for now. Until I can gather enough resources for a spaceship and drones... I'll have to live primitively..."
Estelle pinched the display again, scaling back to view just one or two islands at a time. Her fingers slid across the interface as her eyes tracked numerous skyscrapers scattered across the map. Although the mainland housed the densest clusters—a terrible choice for transfer given the population—her attention gravitated toward an island near the coast. She continued scanning until her gaze settled on the twin-breast isle, where she discovered three facilities: one partially destroyed, another disconnected, and a third hidden deep within mountains.
One eyebrow lifted. "This can do," she nodded, zooming in on the mountain-concealed facility. As the view expanded, new details emerged—underground connections snaking beneath the surface, structural elements extending into darkness. The lines simply stopped rendering at a point, leaving Estelle uncertain where they led. Perhaps to the facility's entrance, or into one of the labyrinthine passages she had designed.
Her attention snapped to a strange element that suddenly materialized as she zoomed further—a golden spherical shape pulsing at the center of a small room, beating in perfect rhythm with her heart. The unexpected sight drew a soft "Huh?" from her lips.
She zoomed closer. Text began to appear, pale green characters hovering above the pulsing sphere like a nous pattern: [(Vessel AOB) Vessel and communication facility | Architect: AC-6232 (REDACTED)]
"Redacted…?" Estelle muttered, confused as she tilted her head. "This must be from Esy2lymn's? I'm not quite sure what account number that guy has, I can't recall… I just hope it is so that we can get a humanoid vessel. After all, his vessels… should be… humanoid, or probably even human, or maybe imitation of the native’s gods…" Estelle nodded, a slight smile forming. "Then... what does this do...?"
She pressed the golden sphere that seemed to beckon for her attention. It responded immediately—an explosion of golden waves rippling across the display, temporarily washing over the muted palette before everything settled back into grays and greens.
"Woahhhhh, what the fuckkkk," Estelle gaped. "Damnnnn, dudee. What the fuck, this is so fucking cool. I'm going to geek out a lot from this, huh?"
As the words left her mouth, she noticed a change—the middle frame line that had previously glowed red now shimmered golden, bearing red text: [Connection established: [(Vessel AOB) Vessel and communication facility | Architect: AC-6232 (REDACTED)]]
“Damn.”