SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
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ORION A. VOIDWALKER
Class: Empiricist [C-rank]
Level: 38
Mind: 135
Attunement: 133
Body: 16
Traits: Mana Manipulation [C-rank]; Verification Principle [C-rank]
The feeling of one’s mind expanding was so unique that Orion struggled to describe it, but ironically, it was that very same expansion that allowed him to do so.
The rush started as a low-frequency vibration under his skin, then as a brilliant surge spiraling up his spine until it burst behind his eyes in kaleidoscopic patterns of violet and gold.
Level-ups always felt exhilarating, but five straight ascents hit with tidal force. For a delirious heartbeat, Orion feared his skull might split from the sudden flood of Mind and Attunement.
Yet the System, impartial and infallible, allocated each upgrade with mathematical precision, and soon the static transformed into clarity.
Memories he had lost during nights of intense study suddenly resurfaced; complex writings on tensor glyphs became clear and logical; phantom paths of mana he had only glimpsed in his teachers’ workings now appeared like wide, torch-lit roads.
Coming down from that wasn’t easy. Donning his mortal vestments again, no longer so close to the source of all knowledge, to the God-Machine he could only vaguely remember as even his enhanced mind rejected its touch lest it break, felt like giving up, but that was the only path he could take.
For now. I’m one step closer to the Truth.
The glow inside the Computing Crystal pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, its garnet facets reflecting the harsh laboratory light. Orion flexed his fingers as residual mana from its initial activation flickered across his knuckles like faint lightning.
He took a deep breath, his heartbeat slowing, and his focus sharpening. “Let’s see what you can really do,” he whispered.
He grasped a tiny wisp of mana, as small an amount as he could summon from the Field, and began shaping it into the Torchlight. Usually, he would visualize a glowing sphere and feed a trickle of power into the formula, I = (P + ATP) / (4πr2), then stabilize the output with sheer concentration.
The resulting spell would have peaks here and there, but overall, it was the piece of magic he trusted the most. Any deviations from his usual result would be easy to spot.
Now he directed the same intent through the computational lattice.
Multicolored sigils flickered deep within the crystal, stacking, pruning, and meshing. In the blink of an eye, the cantrip’s arithmetic was refactored, the excess constants folded away, and recursive losses canceled each other out with surgical precision. The spell executed.
Light burst into existence flawlessly, with a surface tension smoother than obsidian glass. Orion rotated it with a thought, watching the lumens remain perfectly constant.
Under the lens of [Verification Principle], the readings approached the realm of the impossible: a ninety-nine point nine eight percent efficiency, with radiative flux perfectly steady across the sphere.
He chuckled softly. “It’s so beautiful, and it’s just a lamp.”
Yet that lamp revealed a lot. A device capable of transforming a messy human spell into almost perfect form meant less wasted mana, less fatigue, and longer casting ability.
The implications made his imagination run wild. If even such a simple spell, one I am confident in saying I mastered, can be improved so much, then what will happen with more mana-intensive ones?
He dismissed the sphere. It made no sound as its perfect coherence broke apart into harmless photons, as every bit of mana was used to produce Light.
Emboldened, he reached for the antigravity spell he had started using to develop broom flight, this time feeding the lattice only the barest mnemonic: –g.
I’ve seen good results with this before, but despite my best efforts, it remained unfocused, more like a field than a vector.
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Instantly, the crystal seized it. A silent shockwave rippled outward, and every vial, scalpel, and parchment in the room lifted slightly from the table, then stopped. Time seemed to stretch thin. Orion realized the lattice was waiting, offering him a menu of possibilities.
He chose his targets, feeling almost like an outside observer rather than an active participant, and soon enough, a rack of test tubes spiraled upward, each glass cylinder staying parallel to its neighbors; a cluster of silver knives fanned into a rotating halo above his head.
He twitched his wrist, and the constellation rearranged itself, with knives and tubes swirling into a double helix before smoothly returning to their shelves without a clink.
That was not just antigravity, he concluded in surprise. The original spell only canceled the planet’s grip, but the crystal had inferred intention, layering momentum routing over the field so he could translate, rotate, and bank objects mid-air.
“The things I could do with this…” he muttered, already imagining just how disruptive this would be to the magical orthodoxy.
His Computing Crystal was enough proof on its own that the traditional casting styles were flawed, almost primitive. Yet he was glad no one knew yet because the potential was too great. I’ll have to figure out how to present this without revealing my entire hand. I do not want to be crushed like a bug for my insolence.
Rebellion was one thing. Revolution was another.
Encouraged, he took a deep breath, savoring the sweet taste of victory. It was time to take a risk.
Orion remembered the naval battle across the Belt, the desperation, and how he had ended up using a pale imitation of a Gamma Ray to sink a pirate ship with one strike. It hadn’t been voluntary, no, but the results couldn’t be denied. That was the peak of his abilities.
We will not replicate that, he told the crystal, conveying caution, purpose, and scale. Instead of relativistic energy that hadn’t escaped his control through luck alone, he offered only the bare bones, a hint of the original formula, just enough to let the cold logic of the algorithm he’d set up understand what he wanted.
Mana surged, compressing into an impossible density as a concept capable of destroying an entire planet tried to manifest, but the lattice held it back, capturing only hints of its true power to forge a new spell. A thread of violet-white brilliance appeared, barely thicker than a fishing wire. He aimed it toward the corner workbench.
The beam made contact with the steel, slicing through silently and leaving a smooth, flat cut that hissed as hot edges met cool air; its afterimage lingered as ghostly imprints on his retina. The cut stopped exactly where the floor began, the crystal having executed a safety termination fast enough to avoid damaging the marble tiles.
Heat radiated from the focus, and darker, almost black motes swam within its core. Orion pressed his hand to the shell, reading the stress patterns with [Verification Principle].
Capacity is at seventy-eight percent, with thermal thresholds rising but still within tolerance. Yet, he could sense the warning. If he pushed harder, the crystal could get damaged.
“It’s not omnipotent,” he conceded to himself. “And only as versatile as the mage supplying the spells.”
The thought sobered him. The entire framework of mathematics, computing science, and thaumaturgy could honestly be called genius, yes, but it was still derivative. It couldn’t create a spell he knew nothing about; it could only refine his drafts. If his knowledge stagnated, so would the crystal.
Setting the focus on its padded plinth, Orion straightened his spine, feeling it pop, and sat on the edge of the steel plate he had bisected.
Now, to figure out how to show this off without being accused of heresy again.
The doors to the mess hall swung open wide as he approached.
Long carved ash tables stretched across the chamber, their surfaces lacquered to mirror the star maps overhead. At the far end, a slightly raised dais supported a crescent-shaped table where Elder Yue sat, flanked by trusted advisors and, tonight, her crimson-haired protégé Zinnia.
Asteria saw him right away. She was sitting in a spot near the center, high enough to show respect for her position as a Magistra, yet low enough to hint at her awkwardness.
When he sat down beside her, she put her goblet down and smiled down at him. “You seem to be satisfied,” she whispered, pressing his knuckles under the table. “Did you have a breakthrough?”
He couldn’t hide his grin. “Even better. I have proof of concept.”
That, along with the slight tremor in his hands, told her everything. She quickly offered a congratulatory pat, then turned to claim a basket of steamed leaf-rolls that floated toward them on a silver tray as if carried by invisible servants.
The tray dipped exactly as she reached, then floated over to a nearby group of witches who hemmed and hawed at the choices.
Orion’s stomach growled in satisfaction as he bit into one. He knew very well how intense hunger could feel after hours of intense focus, so he filled a plate with thin slices of savory pears, slivers of smoked eel glowing with pickled scales, and a juicy piece of forest boar glazed with juniper.
Further down the hall, among the rows of witches, two men sat, both seasoned magi with frosted temples, quietly talking in hushed tones.
As all males who remained within the Sanctum, they seemed to be modest in ambition and mild in temperament.
Conversation swirled around him. From the high table, snippets of Elder Yue’s steady contralto discussed the upcoming agenda of the High Council. Zinnia leaned in, whispering suggestions; Yue smiled at her twice, frowned once, and the dance continued.
Asteria sipped her mead, seemingly unfazed.
Returning his attention to the meal, Orion let the steady rhythm ground him. He was still coming down from the high of his success, but he needed to be prepared for what was ahead.
Asteria folded her napkin as the meal came to an end and turned to look at him. “Walk with me, moonbeam.”
He followed her through a servants’ arch. The corridor beyond seemed like an ordinary stone passage for just three steps before the space distorted. Walls stretched and blurred into watercolor splotches, and new junctions started to form.
“Still haven’t gotten used to it?” his mother asked without breaking her stride.
“I spent the afternoon working on esoteric computing, and this still feels stranger.”
She chuckled, amused, as the corridor narrowed to a familiar oak door engraved with interlocking moons, the same sitting room that had welcomed their arrival. It swung open as they approached.
Inside, Elder Yue stood by an alabaster hearth, her long fingers running through her dark hair. Her face was unreadable as she perused two gnarled tomes, while a glass decanter sat on the sideboard.
Her head rose as they entered, and the door closed quietly behind them.
“Sit, please.” The elder signaled to the twin chaise lounges. "We need to talk about the council. But first...” She looked directly at Orion with obsidian eyes. "There was a small disruption in the wards earlier, something related to an experiment room?”
Orion nodded slightly. “The result of my experiments.” He chose not to explain further, letting his work speak for itself. Reaching into his cloak, he took out the Computational Crystal and placed it on the low table between them.
Yue’s breath caught, and her hand stilled mid-air. For a second, the room felt smaller, as light bent toward the garnet facets.
His mother kept silent, but he felt her spine go rigid.
Yue raised a finger over the gem without touching it. Symbols flickered across the surface, as runes, data streams, and fractal patterns unfolded at her command. She quickly pulled back, as if what she had found had stung her.
“This,” she said finally, voice pitched barely above a murmur, “is quite something.”
“My response to your request,” Orion confirmed. "This proves that mundane computation and high magic can coexist, and together they can refine and even surpass traditional casting.”
Yue suddenly stood up and paced across the room, hands clenched tightly. “I can see now why Morliana is so very wary.”
“I just want to advance my craft,” Orion replied honestly, and the elder met his eyes.
Dark pools of obsidian reflected the moonlight outside, and he suspected she was using some kind of divination spell, considering how much mana she was weaving at that moment.
None of it touched him, but he couldn’t help feeling as if his secrets were laid bare before her.
She smiled. “Congratulations.”
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