CH1089 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1089: The Deity of Gods

Two words for the experience of connecting minds: burning and chaos.

The burning came from the Origin of Magic itself — the substrate of all power, the place all power returned to, the engine that had made the Realm of Minds possible. It destroyed what approached it before the final transformation. Hackzord had visited it enough times to know the sensation the way one knows a scar: familiar, unpleasant, not to be lingered over.

The chaos was the minds themselves.

Magic power above a certain threshold left marks. When enough marked minds converged in the Realm, they moved like water into an ocean — some sinking immediately to the lightless bottom, others riding the surface currents. The difference was consciousness. The ones that sank were empty, their echo exhausted. The ones that held the surface had been here before, had survived the crossing, and that single traversal had altered them in ways that could not be unfixed.

Hackzord was exceptionally good at what he did in this place.

The Origin of Magic had acknowledged him — that was the formal structure, the recognition that unlocked a Sky Lord’s ability to reach into the Realm at will and draw out what was there. He used it sparingly. Minds touched each other; linger too long and the contamination moved both ways. Worse, the Realm had no fixed landmarks. Many who entered never found the way back, and their bodies sat somewhere in the physical world, breathing and blinking and increasingly hollow.

The other reason he came rarely was simpler: he disliked it. Even at the apex of this particular ability, he found the Realm unpleasant. The sight of other minds dancing and subsiding in the currents looked too much like watching something die in slow motion, and he had seen enough of that.

He was moving to withdraw when something familiar brushed against him.

He stopped.

Kabradhabi?

He traced the signature carefully. The shape was right — the mark of an upgraded one was distinctive, not easily confused — but the strength was wrong. Wrong by an order he had not expected. Kabradhabi should have retained full consciousness after losing a body. The upgraded ones persisted through physical death; that was the point. This trace was barely above the surface, flickering, weaker than the mind of a newly-hatched female insect.

Hackzord extended his formless hand and held the thread.

Then a voice reached him from the physical world, his guard’s voice, steady and immediate: “Sky Lord. The king is summoning you.”

He released the thread. Turned. Gave the guard a single glance and the two words that ended the conversation. Walked back.


The legacy shard caught the light in red when he set it down — a deep arterial gleam, warm and constant. He did not let himself look at it for long.

The Birth Tower’s crown was wreathed in wet mist, thick enough to press against the skin. He liked it there. He placed his hand against the tower’s surface and opened his mind to the resonance network.

“Sky Lord is at your service.”

“How did the plan go?” The king’s presence filled the connection the way a tide fills a channel — total, without overflow. “We don’t have much time remaining.”

“Has something occurred at the Sky-sea Realm?”

“Something significant. Most of the council’s position is to hold course. The Deity of Gods is close.”

The words struck him like a physical thing.

Deity of Gods.

He had known it was coming. The research had been underway for generations, a project so long in development that entire upgraded ones had lived their span and passed into the Origin of Magic before the work moved a single stage forward. The objective: to free the Lords permanently from the tyranny of mineral-bound magic stones, to make movement and reach no longer functions of geography. To place the will of the Lords over distance the way the sky was placed over the ground — absolutely, without negotiation.

A God’s gift. That was what the name meant. Another step toward the Origin.

Hackzord let his admiration pass through the connection without disguising it.

“What is your assessment of the Western Front?” the king asked.

He had intended to say nothing. The king had the Sky-sea Realm to manage; another failure report from the Western Front was weight the king did not need, and making the decision himself was a form of loyalty. Then he heard himself thinking: choosing what the king knows is not loyalty. That is management. The king does not pay a Sky Lord for management.

He recalibrated. “The low lives have changed significantly in the four hundred years since the last contact. Their combat methods are different in kind, not degree. My commander suffered minor losses. The advance plan is unaffected.”

“Evolution?”

“No. Tools and elements — fire, primarily. We have little experience with fire used this way. It appears to be entirely non-magical.”

Silence. Then: “Not magic power?”

“Not as far as can be determined. My commander had intended to take specimens — men and weapons both. The attempt was unsuccessful.” He paused. “My commander has requested reinforcements, or authorization to pursue answers through the Realm of Minds.”

The king considered. When he spoke again, his tone had not changed, but something in the quality of its attention had. “Were any upgraded ones taken by the low lives? I had expected this to happen eventually — we’ve reduced the upgrade requirements, which introduces risk — but the timing concerns me. Your commander of the Western Front is the one you’ve called a genius. Did he exercise appropriate judgment?”

Hackzord bent his head.

“Well?”

“I found him in the Realm of Minds. What remained of him. He was barely above the surface — nearly no power left. I couldn’t recover significant detail.” He stopped. “But when my mind touched his, I saw something. Extremely bright flames. It may have been memory distortion.”

“If they were actual fires, it’s irrelevant,” the king said, dismissing it cleanly. “We understand fire well enough. We ceased studying it from human beings long ago. As for reinforcements — no. The Sky-sea Realm requires those forces. I will not divert headquarters guards. Your request is declined.” A pause that had weight. “The legacy shard is in your custody, Sky Lord. Remember what that means.”

“I understand.”

“Then see that the plan proceeds without disruption. Once the Deity of Gods is operational, the initiative is ours. We stop defending and start moving forward.” The presence in the connection thinned, then went dark.

The mist closed around the top of the tower.

Hackzord stood with his hand still flat against the stone, feeling the hum of the resonance fade, and thought about a thread of mind that had once been Kabradhabi — one of the most capable commanders on the Western Front — reduced to something barely distinguishable from an empty husk.

And thought about very bright flames.

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