One hour ago...

  Zark'thul stood motionless before the Command Room's central display, the blue light of multiple holographic feeds casting his human features in sharp relief. His fingers remained perfectly still on the console, neither tapping with impatience nor fidgeting with concern—such motor manifestations of anxiety belonged to actual humans, not to entities merely wearing their shape.

  Still, it irked him to be reduced to watching events unfold from a distance, particularly when he felt the situation was reaching a tipping point. His REDLINE agents were undeniably skilled, and they'd succeeded at every task he'd given them thus far, but they were mortal, fallible, and—even after recent upgrades—limited by the weaknesses of their biological bodies.

  The dimensional crisis unfolded across a dozen screens, each representing a different facet of Avalon's unraveling. He processed them simultaneously, tracking the expanding breach, the escalating public hysteria, and his teams' faltering efforts to contain the chaos.

  The Tower around him hummed with increased activity—both the mundane bustle of personnel responding to crisis protocols and the more subtle resonance of the structure itself. It was not merely a building; it was a living entity of sorts, and it, too, could sense the dimensional disruptions rippling across Avalon.

  "Display probability matrices for convergence points three through seven," he instructed, his voice modulated to perfect neutrality.

  The holographic display shifted, raw data coalescing into complex three-dimensional models. Energy flows twisted like rivers across the cityscape, converging at the Grand Terminus in patterns that any human mathematician would find beautiful.

  Zark'thul found them merely predictable—the precise configuration he'd calculated days ago when the first Pinpoint Rift signatures had been detected.

  His meeting with Commissioner Vallin Iradex earlier that day had proceeded according to parameters. The stern-faced tax official had initially resisted Zark'thul's assertions about Metcom's activities, but the evidence provided had been irrefutable.

  By meeting's end, the Department of Interrealm Revenue was mobilizing its considerable resources to investigate Metcom's financial irregularities—a distraction that would keep official attention focused on regulatory violations rather than the cosmic horror unfolding beneath them.

  Mortals invariably preferred to believe in corruption over cataclysm. It was a psychological defense mechanism Zark'thul had exploited countless times across countless realms.

  He closed his eyes, not from fatigue but to better focus his perception beyond physical senses. His consciousness expanded outward through what he privately termed his Thousand Eyes—points of awareness scattered strategically throughout Avalon.

  Through these sensory extensions, he observed Squad One's progress at the Anatheum Institute.

  Byron led with precise efficiency, the REDLINE Agent's enhanced physiology performing admirably against Argent Shield forces. The squad had successfully protected the Institute's Harmonic Anchor, though their encounter with the Voidspawn had been... suboptimal.

  Casualties had been avoided, but the entity's appearance confirmed Zark'thul's worst suspicions about Qliphothic involvement.

  Simultaneously, he monitored Squad Two at the water purification facility. Filu's implementation of Protocol Omega had been unexpectedly successful—the orc's magical capabilities exceeded initial assessments. The dimensional collapse had been contained, though at significant cost to Filu's magical reserves.

  The capture of Prophet Ysedra presented an unforeseen advantage; the Resurgent leader possessed information that might prove useful in the coming confrontation.

  His third focal point centered on the Grand Terminus, where the dimensional breach had progressed beyond conventional containment parameters. The void energy pouring through the breach carried signatures he recognized immediately—patterns that predated human existence, from a war between cosmic forces that had shaped the multiverse itself.

  Zark'thul opened his eyes, the blue glow reflecting in irises that appeared human but perceived spectra no human retina could process.

  "Initiate secure uplink to R&D," he instructed the Tower's integrated systems.

  Elamrion's face appeared on the central display, the elven researcher's normally composed features taut with the strain of prolonged analysis.

  "Sir, we've completed the deep-scan of the device's void core," the researcher reported without preamble. "The findings are... concerning."

  "Elaborate," Zark'thul replied, though he had already calculated the most likely outcome.

  "The Pinpoint Rift technology isn't merely derived from Void Reaches materials—it's been specifically engineered to create a stable passage between dimensions," Elamrion explained, transmitting complex data streams alongside his verbal report. "But the engineering signatures show evidence of deliberate corruption."

  "The Harvesters of Amrit," Zark'thul stated. Not a question.

  "Yes, though they likely didn't understand what they were doing," Elamrion confirmed. "The original Metcom designs appear to have been for controlled dimensional gateways. But someone—or something—modified the resonance patterns to create what amounts to a summoning array."

  "A specific summoning array," Zark'thul corrected. "The convergence pattern is designed to manifest a fragment of Nai'hum. The positioning of the devices across Avalon's dimensional thin points forms a perfect meta-geometric configuration to bridge the gap between this reality and the void pocket where Nai'hum's essence was imprisoned."

  Elamrion's expression shifted to one of barely concealed shock. "You... you knew this already?"

  "I calculated the probability at 87.3% based on preliminary scans," Zark'thul replied. "Your confirmation increases certainty to acceptable parameters."

  The researcher hesitated, clearly wrestling with implications beyond his area of expertise. "Sir, if I may ask—how is it possible that a corporate entity like Metcom could access technology with connections to extraplanar entities? Our understanding was that the Void Reaches were sealed after the Collapse of the Seventh Harmonic."

  Zark'thul considered his response carefully. Mortals—even exceptionally intelligent ones like Elamrion—required conceptual frameworks they could comprehend. Complete truthfulness would be neither efficient nor useful.

  "The boundaries between dimensions are not absolute," he explained. "They thin cyclically, allowing limited exchanges of matter and energy. Metcom likely discovered remnant technology during an expedition into one such boundary region, without recognizing its true nature or purpose."

  This was, of course, a significant simplification. The truth—that Nai'hum had been deliberately seeding technological fragments across multiple realities for millennia, waiting for suitable vessels like Metcom to discover and implement them—would only confuse the researcher and add no strategic value.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  No doubt it was doing the same thing in that other realm.

  "Continue monitoring the void core's resonance patterns," Zark'thul instructed. "Alert me to any significant deviations."

  As the communication ended, Zark'thul stepped away from the console, moving to the panoramic window that offered a direct view of Avalon. The city sprawled below, its usual vibrancy now overshadowed by the growing dimensional anomalies. The sky above the Grand Terminus had darkened to an unnatural void, reality itself bending inward around the breach.

  For a brief moment, something stirred within Zark'thul's borrowed human form—not emotion as humans understood it, but a complex resonance that approximated recognition. The patterns of dimensional unraveling reminded him of another time, another conflict, when he had witnessed similar cosmic tears in the fabric of existence.

  That had been before his defeat. Before his current diminished state.

  Memory fragments surfaced—disjointed images from a perspective no human mind could process: vast multidimensional landscapes where wars were fought not with weapons but with the fundamental principles of reality itself. Qliphothic entities unfolding across dimensional planes, consuming everything in their path. Eldritch beings—his own kind—manipulating existence with casual mastery, reshaping planets and stars in their unending struggle for dominance.

  And there had been Nai'hum, the most adaptable of the Qliphoth. Where other Qliphothic entities sought only dissolution, Nai'hum had demonstrated an unsettling capacity for creativity—not creation for its own sake, but as a means to more efficient destruction.

  Even Zark'thul had to give an odicum of respect to this innovator's approach to unmaking.

  He dismissed the memories as counterproductive in his current state. Past encounters provided tactical data, nothing more.

  Sentiment was inefficient.

  He pressed a small control on his AetherLink device. "Elspeth, report to the Command Room immediately."

  She arrived precisely seventy-three seconds later, her attire as immaculate as always. If she felt any anxiety about the dimensional crisis unfolding, she did not display it—a trait Zark'thul approved of.

  "Sir," she acknowledged, taking her position beside the central console.

  "Generate a comprehensive probability matrix for our current intervention strategies," he instructed. "Include all variables from Squad One and Squad Two's operations."

  Elspeth interfaced directly with the Tower's systems, her fingers dancing across holographic controls as multidimensional models took shape in the air before them. Complex equations scrolled alongside the visual representations—calculations that would have taken human mathematicians lifetimes to complete.

  The resulting model was elegant in its absoluteness—a perfect sphere of null probability at its core, surrounded by expanding rings of equally dismal outcomes.

  "Current success probability?" he asked, though the answer was visually apparent.

  "Zero percent," Elspeth replied without inflection. "With standard containment protocols and current agent deployment patterns, there is no scenario in which the dimensional breach is successfully contained."

  Zark'thul studied the model, noting the precise failure points in each simulated attempt. "Elaborate on primary causal factors."

  "Three critical thresholds have been exceeded," Elspeth explained, highlighting specific nodes in the probability matrix. "First, the dimensional breach at the Grand Terminus has expanded beyond the critical mass point where conventional stabilization methods would be effective. Second, the master device's integration with Victoria Chandler as a biological anchor has created a self-sustaining manifestation circuit. Third, the Fragment has achieved partial consciousness transfer to this dimensional plane, allowing it to actively counter conventional opposition."

  He processed this information against his own calculations. "What would be required to adjust these parameters to a non-zero probability?"

  Elspeth reconfigured the model, new variables flowing into the equations. "The Tower possesses a contingency protocol for events of this magnitude. System Reset Pattern Omega would revert all dimensional parameters to their state prior to the initial breach, effectively erasing the current timeline and resetting progress."

  "At what cost?" he asked, already anticipating the answer.

  "Complete erasure of all progress made since your revival within the Tower," Elspeth stated. "All floor unlocks, resource accumulation, and agent development would be reset to baseline parameters. You would essentially begin again from your initial awakening."

  Zark'thul dismissed this option immediately. Regression was unacceptable. The Tower's progress represented the initial stages of his own reconstitution—the gradual recovery of abilities and awareness that had once been his by right.

  To surrender that progress would be an unthinkable retreat.

  "Alternative approaches," he prompted.

  Elspeth hesitated—a rare occurrence that indicated she was accessing restricted protocols. "There is one theoretical alternative, though it carries significant resource costs."

  "Specify."

  "The Tower's architecture includes mechanisms designed to temporarily suspend the limitations of your current form. In essence, you could manifest a fraction of your original capabilities for a brief duration."

  An eyebrow twitched—a notable display of reaction for Zark'thul's normally impassive features.

  He'd never heard of such a possibility. However, much of the Tower's knowledge was veiled from him in these initial floors, accessible only as he cleared successive challenges.

  "How long has this function existed?" he inquired.

  "It became available upon you achieving Level 10 Administrator status," Elspeth replied. "Access is contingent on your willingness to expend the required resources to activate it."

  "Outline the specifications."

  "The process would convert accumulated business capital into dimensional potential energy," Elspeth explained, generating a new set of calculations. "The conversion ratio is exponential. With current capital reserves, you could access approximately 0.1% of your original capacity for a duration of three seconds."

  "And the probability adjustment if this option were implemented?"

  Elspeth recalculated, the model shifting significantly. "Success probability increases to 12.7% with optimal application of the manifested power."

  He considered this.

  To human perception, a 12.7% chance would appear discouragingly small. But Zark'thul did not think in human terms. In the multidimensional calculations of eldritch entities, a non-zero probability was sufficient justification for action—particularly when the alternative was complete reset.

  Moreover, 0.1% of his original power, even for a few fleeting seconds, represented a significant force multiplier. In the right context, applied at the precise moment, it could tip the balance in their favor.

  "Initiate preparation sequence," Zark'thul commanded. "Configure the Tower's systems for temporary constraint suspension."

  "Yes, sir," Elspeth acknowledged, interfacing with deeper Tower systems. "Preparation will require approximately twelve minutes. During this time, I recommend final communications with the deployed squads to coordinate the distraction elements."

  Zark'thul returned to the central console, establishing direct communication channels to both squad leaders. The data feeds showed Squad One securing the Anatheum against secondary assault waves, while Squad Two was en route to the Grand Terminus with their captured Resurgent informant.

  He issued precise instructions to both squad leaders, emphasizing the critical nature of their diversionary roles without revealing the full scope of his intended intervention. Human and near-human agents performed more effectively when provided with clear objectives rather than comprehensive strategic contexts.

  As communications concluded, Zark'thul turned back to Elspeth, who waited with her customary patience.

  "The constraint suspension system is online," she reported. "Ready for activation upon your arrival at the Grand Terminus."

  "Optimal interface protocols?"

  "The Tower has integrated the suspension system with your AetherLink device," Elspeth explained. "When activated, it will create a three-second window during which dimensional constraints on your form will be partially lifted. During this period, approximately 0.1% of your original capabilities will be accessible."

  "And the targeting parameters for maximum effect?"

  "Uploaded to your AetherLink," she confirmed. "The void core's resonance pattern has been analyzed to identify its weakest junction point with Chandler's biological form. Precise application of eldritch energy at this point will sever the connection and force the Fragment to retreat."

  Zark'thul stepped onto the platform, adjusting his immaculate suit jacket before meeting Elspeth's cool gaze one final time. "Monitor the squads' progress. Alert me to any significant deviations from projected parameters."

  "Yes, sir," Elspeth acknowledged. Then, uncharacteristically, she added: "The Tower's systems indicate that success in this operation may have unexpected beneficial side effects regarding your ongoing restoration process."

  Interesting. To what extent did the Tower anticipate his actions?

  "Noted," he replied simply.

  Elspeth bowed formally. "Best of luck, sir."