Exalted Fate: Ch 16 not edit yet (rough draft) (Patreon)

Chapter 16: Coins for Coffins

Four coins glowed their dark inner light in my hand. The wheels on the bus go round and round… screaming. I mouthed the words, barely holding onto the rhythm I had sung to keep the corrupted creature’s voice from clawing into my mind.

Adamantium. Dense. Final. Each one was a marker for a moment's proximity to close to the thing that was touched by the abyss.

The second coin. I had sung one of the few nursery rhymes I had known. London Bridge is falling down…

It spoke. Not with sound, voice, or air but inside our minds. Twisting our fears. Lucius dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Chariklia blinded it with light just long enough for Branwen to pierce an eye. One eye down. Six to go. The pool shrieked. Once more, I turned it to ash.

The third coin. I sang, unafraid now. We all sang songs from childhood while blood and howls echoed back our words. Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water…

It took Clymiphae off her feet. Nearly dragged her in. I dove. Fire lanced from my hand and struck the maw dead center. She pulled free. It didn’t scream this time. Just… watched. All seven eyes were on me. All the twisting lines of fate converging to a point of hate and hunger.

The last strike was mine.

The fourth coin landed on the cradle of eternity with a hollow chime. The fading tune of “the wheels on the bus go round and round,“ I didn’t look back as we left for the last time— round and round.

The carriage hit a bump. I stared at my palm. The coins didn’t move, not so much as a jump or an off-tempo jingle.

I closed my fist around the coins. Heavy. Final. My payment from the dungeon, from the abyss that grew within it. I stored them in my spatial ring, coins gone, the memory of their acquisition gone along with them.

The carriage creaked as we turned off Temple Street. The world outside filtered through tinted glass like a memory too bright to face directly. The avenues were lined with golden-leafed maples, their branches clawing at the sky. Their yellowing leaves blew from their branching dragon hoards to scatter in mounds of shifting treasure.

We turned onto Emperor Drive, its cobblestone broad, immaculate pavement polished in the late morning light. Noble houses watched sat back in silence from behind their manicured hedges and wrought-iron gates. None gleamed quite like mine. None held the truth of home, my truth of home. Ashley. Rachel. Sasha. Milly. My home was with them.

The House of Stars rose at the end of the crushed stone driveway, where the trees parted. Ivy curled in its preordained patterns, now crafted by diligent hands. The windows shimmered with enchanted polished glass, and the conical towers stood tall, proud, and daring.

The centaurs slowed, hooves muffled on the white marble drive. Sunlight caught the black roof tiles, sending flecks of gold winking across the facade. The air smelled like lilac and lavender and under it… something stronger. Salt. Sweat and earth.

I slipped my hand into my coat, fingers brushing velvet. The pocket watch Rachel and Ashley had given me clicked open with a quiet authority. 10:45 a.m. The hands moved gracefully, just like the women who gave it to me.

Timmothy waited by the end of the front walkway, bowing low with polished precision as the carriage rolled to a stop.

“My Lord Grayson,” he intoned. “Welcome home.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just stared at the house. At the way the early light made the stone glow. For a heartbeat, I didn’t feel like a man returning from battle. I caught my reflection in the polished tint of the carriage window. Not a man but a revenant, fresh from crawling from his grave.

Around the corner of the house, I saw the front quarter of a lacquered black carriage, nearly the same as the one we had been renting.

“Timmothy, you acquired the carriages? Is everything well?” I asked.

He bowed his head in deference to me, “All is well here. And yes, Master Eric, the two of the five I have ordered have arrived. Is there something I might get you? Food? Drink? A bath?”

“Ha, good, good. Yes, a bath and new clothes would not go amiss, I think.” I said, heading into the house. Timmothy motioned, and one of the kitsune darted forward and up the stairs to the master suite. “Rachel and Ashley?” I asked.

“Mistress Rachel is in the workshop, Mistress Ashley is… well, I’m not sure exactly where she is, but she is here, vigorously planning her campaign of conquest for the opening gala for the house of stars and the arrival of the exalted duke Albillac and Wintershore.” In that moment, he sounded as a weary grandfather might over the many excitements of his grandchildren.

"Campaign of conquest," I echoed, a half-smile cutting through the last darkness of battle. "Sounds like Ashley."

"Indeed." Timmothy's face remained impassive, but his eyes held a glint of amusement. "She's been quite... determined."

The foyer wrapped around me in a cool marble embrace, the enchanted stars on the ceiling brilliant despite the daylight. The grand staircases bent upward, banisters polished to a mirror sheen. Home. My territory. My refuge.

“Your bath is being readied in the master’s suite,” Timmothy said, leading the way up the stairs.

“Good. Will you send for Rachel. Tell her I got the coins. Send for Ashley as well, if you can find her, that is.” I said, my knowing chuckle brightening my words.

“At once, Lord Grayson.” He left me at the top of the stairs, and I found my way to my master suite apartments.

Milly walked out of the bathroom, “Master Eric! Your back, did you kill the nasty thing?” Her joy at seeing me was evident. Every wiggle and bounce filled with a brightness that washed through me, easing me instantly.

“Yep, sure did. It didn’t stand a chance. Did take a while.” I said, heading to the bathing room.

“I knew you would be okay. No way a nasty dungeon creature could stop you,” she said, coming in behind me. “I’ll clean your armor.” Milly helped me strip, and I noted this was the first time cleaning was really needed for my armor.

“Thank you, Milly,” I said, cupping her face and pulling her chestnut curls closer to me. I kissed her, falling into her joy, and she bubbled with pleasure at my kiss. It’ll be good to have that weird, wrong smell washed off my armor…fuck that is strange.

“Mmm, anything for you, Mast… Eric.” She said, using my first name as I had commanded, she could when alone. It was still hard for her, uncomfortable, but she managed it. I was naked in seconds, bath steaming, and the luxuries of this world ready for my enjoyment.

 I slipped into the bath, watching Milly's heavy breasts and tight round backside, head out the door with my armor. I don’t know how long I soaked. I didn’t care. The heat and water eased every tension I had.

“Well, don’t you look comfortable, Lord husbands,” Rachel said, her teasing tone scarcely hid the excitement in her voice.

I opened one eye, half reentering the world, “I got them, all four.”

“YES!” Rachel pumped her fist as her face lit up, “I’m almost ready tonight. We can try tonight.”

“Tonight, you're sure?” I asked.

“Definitely, the plans and tools are almost ready. At some point, theory only goes so far, and we just have to try it. we’ll learn more that way.” She said, sitting on the edge of the oversized tub.

“The coffins, did you…”

Rachel cut me off, “Yep, right here,” she pulled out a few pages of notes, delicate handwriting, and scripting outlining the enchantments I would need to make them. I transferred them to my storage ring and pulled the four coins out.

“Wow, so this is Adamantium. I’ve read about it but never actually seen it. I can’t believe I’m going to get the chance to enchant with it!” she nearly slipped off the tub to grab one as I laid them on the lip of the tub. Even in the bright steam of the bathroom, they glowed a dark light that was unique to the material.

She vibrated, ready to bolt from the room and back down into her enchanters paradise. “You want to go and get ready?”

“YES.” She blurted before grabbing the coins and almost fell into the water to kiss me. Quick, with a heated bit of my lip and she was gone. Swirling black hair and dress outlining her round athletic ass were gone before I could get my bearings.

God, she is great… Just a happy manic enchanter living the dream. It was a few more minutes of soaking, the quiet and peace grounding me. I let the water out of the tub and sat, letting all my worries, fear, and, well, just everything draining away drop by drop.

I grabbed a plush towel, black with silver stitching and a forest green tree stylized in the center, and dried off. 

I walked into the master sweat, “Rachels beaming, she just ran passed me, kissed me, and darted away. Mmm, so delicious when she gets like that,” Ashley's voice lit the room. She sprawled on a sofa, eyeing every naked inch of me, abandoning all pretense of noble innocence.

“Ha, nearly fell in the tub just now,” I said, shaking my head.

“Ha, she would have still run through the house soaking wet to get back to the workshop.” Her smile was as bright as her fire-auburn-red hair. “Do you like the carriage? I approved the ones Timmothy purchased.” She asked.

“I haven’t taken a close look, but from what I saw, yes, they will be yet another wonderful addition you have made to our home,” I said, putting on dark black pants, a fitted white shirt, and a vest. I placed my pocket watch in the little pocket. I’ve always wanted one of those. “Centaurs?” I asked.

Ashley brightened, “Shopping!” her excitement needed no other words.

The rented carriage, black lacquer, tinted windows, and plush leather seats were pulled by four centaurs. The suspension was nearly perfect on them, but I had a few upgrades to the ones Timmothy had purchased in mind. Maybe lift them and slap some hydraulics on them… yeah probably not. It’d be funny, though. I told Timmothy on our way out for the Titans shield to meet me tomorrow morning in the dungeon lobby… one step at a time, Eric. Now slaves, yuk.

“Hillbright’s is where we’ll find the most common slaves… cheaper too,” Ashley said, tapping her finger on her lips. She had decided on a gold and green dress that was more painted on her toned body than flowing. It was split on each side, and when she crossed her smooth legs, the front fell into the valley of her pleasure. It had an accompanying half cape and a wide green hat with a flower on it.

“Cheep?” I asked.

“Well, commonly priced, the Golden Collar that’s where we’ll find the best outside of auctions.” She shrugged, and her wide, happy eyes were filled with hope.

“So, the Golden Collar then.” I smiled.

“Already told the driver.” The joy she emanated from her wide smile would have had me moving mountains if she but asked. Sasha lounged on the floor of the carriage, short skirt and halter top begging from every inch to be moved aside to find the wet pleasures beneath.

It was nearing 1pm when we arrived in the noble trade district in front of the Golden Collar.

The three-story building of the Golden Collar gleamed in the afternoon sun, its gilded entrance beckoning noble patrons with promises of quality and exclusivity. Enchanted lanterns hung from wrought-iron posts, their glow unnecessary in daylight but a statement of luxury, nonetheless. The entrance was flanked by two massive golden statues of collared men and women. Their faces were cast in serene submission.

"Impressive," I muttered as our driver brought the carriage to a stop.

"Only the best," Ashley said, her smile sharp with anticipation. "The emperor himself has been known to send buyers here when he wants something... specific."

We walked up the few steps to the door, "Exalted Lady Wintershore, Exalted Lord Grayson," the doorman bowed deeply. "An honor to serve you today." Ashley's hand rested in the crook of my arm as we entered, her fingers tightening with excitement. Inside, the air was perfumed with subtle incense—not to mask any unpleasant odors but to enhance the atmosphere of refined commerce. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the reception hall's marble floor, where a slender human woman in a tailored navy uniform approached.

"Exalted ones," she said, eyes appropriately lowered. "I am Madame Levinia, senior acquisitions director. How may the Golden Collar serve you today?"

Ashley stepped forward. "We're looking to expand our household staff. We just purchased carriages and need appropriate draft slaves to pull them. Quality over quantity, mind you."

Lavinia's professional smile widened fractionally. "Of course, we have several prime options for carriage service," Levinia said, gesturing toward a private viewing room. "Minotaurs are our most popular draft slaves—tremendous strength, impressive endurance, and their presence makes quite the statement. Two can pull what would require four lesser beasts."

She guided us into a room with plush seating and tall windows. A servant appeared with wine.

"For those seeking something more elegant," Levinia continued, "our equine folk—centaurs and fauns—provide a smoother ride and greater maneuverability in city streets. Their higher intelligence allows for complex navigation without constant direction."

Ashley sipped her wine, eyes calculating. "And durability? Winter approaches."

"Indeed." Levinia nodded. "This brings me to our third option— and a recent acquisition, the northern ursa-kin. Bear folk. Rare, but unmatched in cold weather, strength and endurance. Quite intelligent as well, for beast-kin. Their thick fur requires minimal maintenance, and they project an air of untamed nobility that many find... compelling… once shackled beneath the might of the empire."

I watched Ashley's face light up at the mention of the bear folk. "Ursa-kin? I've only heard of them. From the northern territories, you say?" Ashley met my eyes for only a second, but I read them clearly. Sarah was from the north.

"We received a small group last month from a merchant caravan coming down from the temple of Roxclue in Western Dawn," Levinia explained. "Would you care to see our selections?"

"All three," I said, setting down my untouched wine. "I'd like to compare."

Levinia bowed. "Of course, Exalted Lord. Please, follow me to the viewing yard."

We walked through polished corridors where discreet alcoves displayed singular slaves—musicians, scholars, and companions of rare beauty. The Golden Collar's reputation was well-earned. Horrific but well-earned. Play the part. We got this, Eric.

The viewing yard was a circular space with separate staging areas. Sunlight streamed through enchanted glass panels overhead, illuminating the merchandise without the harshness of direct exposure.

"First, our minotaurs," Levinia announced.

Four massive bull-men stood at attention, their muscled torsos gleaming with oil, heavy golden rings through their noses. Their eyes remained downcast, but I caught the tension in their shoulders of proud creatures, yoked and shackled.

"Impressive," I murmured, circling them. "How are they in teams?"

"Excellent, when properly paired," Levinia said. "These four were captured together, which simplifies training considerably."

Ashley's hand brushed mine. "The ursa-kin?"

Levinia led us to the next area, where four of the bear beast-kin waited. Taller than the minotaurs but less bulky, their fur ranged from deep brown and gold to silver-tipped black. Their faces were clearly that of bears. They stood on two legs but could just as easily move to all fours. They were covered in fur, though it thinned almost to skin in places.

"Two males, two females," Levinia explained. "Rare to find a matched set. Let alone two. The females are particularly valuable. The bear in them breeds out slowly. These are the eighth generation."

Levinia gestured toward the third enclosure. "And our centaurs, Exalted ones."

Six centaurs stood in formation, their equine bodies gleaming with meticulous grooming. Unlike the minotaurs' downcast expressions or the ursa-kins' wary stance, these centaurs carried themselves with quiet dignity. Two males with chestnut and bay coats flanked four females, two palomino, and two dapple gray.

"Tagin-bred," Levinia noted with pride. "Third-generation imperial stock. The males pull with exceptional coordination, and the females possess natural navigation instincts for city traffic."

I walked closer, studying their build. Powerful haunches, deep chests, and intelligent eyes that tracked my movement without direct challenge. The palomino female's gaze flickered toward Sasha for an instant before returning to the middle distance.

"They're beautiful," I said, circling them. "Endurance?"

"Twelve hours at a full trot without rest," Levinia replied. "Twenty-four with standard breaks."

Ashley joined me, her hand brushing mine as we stood before the centaurs. Her eyes narrowed with calculation.

"What do you think?" I asked her quietly. "The minotaurs would make a statement."

"Too much statement," she whispered back. "The ursa-kin are tempting—Sarah would appreciate them. But the centaurs..." Her voice trailed off, considering.

"They match and know the protocols and city," I noted.

Ashley nodded. "Precisely. And we need integration, not just muscle. These centaurs understand city protocol. The ursa-kin would need extensive training for carriage travel in the city."

I turned to Levinia. "Price for all six centaurs? And would the Ursa make good guards?"

“Yes, they are excellent natural warriors. The price for all six of the centaurs is 10,800 gold.” Levinia answered.

“And the Ursa?”

“Another 12,000 gold, Exalted Lord Grayson.”

“Humm,” I thought for a moment, seeming to ponder, it was only twenty-three platinum coins. Or two hundred twenty-eight platinum pennies if I wanted to quibble. I was not going to haggle with a slaver over pennies. “Will take them, the Centaurs and the Ursa.”

Lavinia's face betrayed a flash of surprise before settling back into practiced composure. "Excellent choice, Exalted Lord. Both the centaurs and ursa-kin will serve your household with distinction. We have a register over here. Exalted Lord Grayson. Processing the transaction will take but a moment," Levinia said,

as we walked over to a small counter where a bank card reader was.

I pulled my bank card from my storage ring. I paid the 22 platinum coins and 8 platinum pennies, checking my balance on my stat screen.

Imperial bank balance:

14 Mithril coins.

137 platinum coins.

2 platinum pennies.

509 gold coins.

250 silver coins.

200 copper coins.

"Twenty-two thousand, eight hundred imperial gold. Approved and transferred."

A young clerk approached with a black velvet tray. Ten gold rings nestled in the fabric, each inscribed with intricate binding runes. I lifted one, turning it in the light. The magic pulsed against my fingers, hungry for connection, domination, and a master.

I held the rings up to my mithril slave band, each absorbed into it, the slave magics and enchantments merging, becoming an ever more complex and beautiful pattern, I would wear on my arm till I could throw down the system completely. The bracelet warmed against my skin with each addition. Ten new lives bound to my will.

"Ten new slaves in one afternoon," Ashley whispered, her fingers interlacing with mine. "We're building quite the household."

"Quite." I squeezed her hand.

Bring them," I commanded.

Handlers led the centaurs and Ursa forward, each fitted with simple leather leads. The palomino centaur's eyes darted to Ashley, then back to the floor.

"Your property awaits transport, Exalted ones," Levinia announced.

We walked through the gilded doors into the afternoon sun, handlers following with our purchases. The centaurs' hooves clicked against cobblestone as the ursa moved with surprising grace for their size.

"Your carriage, Exalted Lord Grayson," our driver announced, bowing as we approached.

I spoke aloud and through the bond, imparting commands to settle the growing pain I knew they would experience if I gave them none. “You may call me Master Eric, Lord Eric, or Master Grayson, or Lord Grayson. You will follow behind the carriage and keep up till we reach my home.” the command was followed in an instant. There was only a moment when the centaurs and the Ursa did not know who should be closer to the wagon, but the centaurs moved behind them, letting them run between their horse bodies and the carriage. I thought it was because the centaurs would be nimbler and knew the conditions of the road better and would avoid causing problems and falling behind.

I hadn't realized how long we'd been at the Golden Collar until I checked my pocket watch. It was nearly 6:00 pm. Time had dissolved in the haze of acquisition and travel as The House of Stars towers cut sharp silhouettes against the amber sky. I saw the bronze dome of the observatory in the back of the house, the telescope Monfort had used to plot the openings of the rifts.

If we make the needle, which I have every faith that Rachel and me will be able to do, I actually have to find an opening that will need to be closed. I need to go and look at the telescope one more time. The message from the system last time freaked me out, and I kind of ran.

"Home," Ashley breathed, her fingers drumming a quick rhythm on my thigh. "Look how they're watching the house."

She was right. The Ursa and centaur's gazes had locked onto the mansion, their expressions shifting from practiced blankness to poorly concealed wonder.

Timmothy stood waiting at the entrance, his posture perfect as always. May bustled out behind him, wiping her hands on her apron, her pink hair and curves bouncing with each step.

"My lord," Timmothy bowed as I stepped down. "I see your acquisition was successful."

"Ten new additions," I confirmed, offering my hand to Ashley. "The centaurs will need stabling, and the ursa will need quarters."

"Already prepared," Timmothy assured me. "May has prepared a meal for the new arrivals, and Sarah has been helping arrange sleeping accommodations."

Sarah herself appeared in the doorway, her expression freezing when she spotted the ursa-kin. One of the bear folk—a female with silver-tipped black fur—stared back, nostrils flaring.

"Northern Reach clan," Sarah whispered, too low for most without enhanced body stats to hear.

I felt the bond vibrate with recognition, with homeland memory. The ursa female's ears twitched forward, then flattened submissively when she caught my gaze.

"Get them settled," I instructed Timmothy. "Food, baths, health checks. I want names and abilities by morning, see they have everything I would expect of my household."

Timmothy knew what that meant and how I wanted them treated, "Of course, Lord Grayson."

Ashley squeezed my arm. "I should check on Rachel. She's probably forgotten to eat again."

"Go," I nodded. "I'll join you shortly. I’m going to look at the telescope. May send something up."

She smiled, “So much working. I wonder if you’ll ever eat in the dining hall again, or at least the dining nook.” her tone held more amusement than anything else as she went inside.

The sun dipped lower as I watched Timmothy direct the new slaves toward the back of the house. Sasha lingered beside me, her tails swishing with unasked questions.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

“Are you… Are you going to take me with you to close the rift?”

“Of course,” I said, missing the depth of the question. Why would she even be worried I wouldn’t take her. Time to look at the fucking telescope. “You coming?” I asked as I headed to the back garden, Sasha trailing behind. She smiled and jogged after me. Her white tails were a blue fire of beauty as the color of the fading sun painted her white hair and fox ears golden-red, orange, and purple, where the light mixed with her blue tips.

We walked out of the back double doors onto the patio area between the two wings of the house. The three-story stone and bronze observatory sat where it always had, a sentinel forever set to watch the stars. And from what I know now, a deeper mystery and danger that threatened the world I had found myself on after my time in the sea of chaos. Whatever May had cooked last lingered through the kitchen windows. Behind us, the House of Stars glowed beneath the late sun, all black slate roofs and enchanted glass flaring with soft radiance.

The entrance to the observatory was round, framed with a silver-etched arch and a reinforced oak door. No lock. No guard. Just my palm against the stone unlocked the runes.

The wards accepted me. A pulse of warm mana lit the edge of the sigil as the door clicked open.

We stepped into the base chamber—spiraling stairs climbing around a central atrium, each step wide enough for a warhorse. The stone was smooth, seamless, and cold beneath our boots. The ascent was quiet. The only sound was the brush of Sasha’s tails and the faint echo of her steps behind mine.

No torches. No sconces. Only the glow stones embedded in the walls pulsed dimly in hues of moonlight blue. At the top, the stairwell opened into the telescope chamber.

It was breathtaking. The dome overhead had retracted. A narrow slit of bronze to let the enchanted object gaze at the heavens.

The chamber beneath the bronze dome was quiet, the air heavy with enchantments and old magic. It felt alive—waiting. Sasha stepped closer, her tails brushing softly against my back, grounding me.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper, carrying concern and warmth that seeped into the tension coiled in my shoulders.

I took a steady breath, letting the silence wrap around me. "Yeah, just trying to prepare myself for whatever it is I'm about to see."

Her fingers slid into mine, gentle but firm. “You don’t have to do it alone, Eric. I’m here.”

I squeezed her hand, the warmth of her presence steadying my nerves. The telescope loomed before us, a masterpiece of enchanted craftsmanship, silver etchings glowing faintly in the dim illumination of the stones set around the room. It looked ancient and futuristic at once—a relic of another time, of another world.

Moving forward, I eased myself into the telescope’s seat. The cool brass and polished leather settled around me, molding perfectly as if it had waited patiently for my return. I placed my hand upon the controls, feeling them come alive beneath my touch. The enchantments hummed, eager and responsive.

"Ready?" I asked, looking back at Sasha. Her sapphire eyes glowed softly in the dim chamber, their gaze giving me strength for what I might see.

"Always," she said, stepping closer, tails wrapping around her in a comforting embrace.

Slowly, I guided the telescope’s aperture toward the darkening sky. Through the bronze slit overhead, stars shimmered like pinpricks of light against a deepening indigo backdrop. The enchantment’s subtle vibrations ran through the device, resonating with my mana as I aligned the telescope toward the heart of the sky, feeling more than seeing the celestial magic reach out to me.

My hand hovered over the controls, hesitating for just a moment. The memory of Baron Montfort’s dire warnings echoed in my thoughts—the incursions, the abyss, the thin veil separating us from oblivion.

"Here goes," I murmured softly, activating the celestial mana sight.

System message:

Baron Montfort celestial observatory: Active.

Would you like to activate observatory enchantments? Yes, no?

Enchantments:

Time dilation: ten to one.

Body: Times five.

Speed: Times five.

Dexterity: Times ten.

Focus: Increase ability to focus on a task for prolonged periods of time. Increases mental acuity.

Optical enhancements: Enhances ocular nerve to receive and transfer information faster.

Mana sight: Grants the ability to see mana affinities.

Celestial mana sight: Grants the ability to see mana affinities in the celestial realm and fluctuating lines between celestial bodies.

Vail gaze: Allows for the barrier between realities to be viewed. 

A rush of color and patterns burst to life before my eyes, like rivers of stardust woven intricately through the sky. Mana threads sparkled and danced, forming delicate lattices and arcs that connected celestial bodies. I moved slowly, carefully scanning the heavens for any sign of disturbance, any flicker that might betray the presence of a rift.

Then, I saw it—a subtle yet unmistakable distortion. Just beyond a constellation shaped like a dragon’s wing, the mana patterns rippled oddly, bending as though under pressure. The colors dimmed, turning dark, like ink spreading through water.

I adjusted the controls carefully, the intricate enchantments of the telescope responding effortlessly under my fingertips. I pressed closer, the eyepiece cool against my brow as I tracked the mana threads woven across the sky. They shimmered faintly, delicate strands of power tracing constellations, forming patterns I couldn’t quite decipher. The telescope seemed almost sentient, guiding my vision gently from one subtle distortion to the next, yet the knowledge to predict precisely where a rift would open eluded me.

It must be in his notes….

Minutes stretched into an hour. My frustration rose steadily, a low simmer beneath the surface. The celestial mana sight revealed much, but not enough—patterns appeared briefly, teasingly, only to scatter like smoke when I focused too intently. The distortions I sought were hidden, subtle shifts masked by the overwhelming complexity of the celestial mana weave.

I leaned back, rubbing my temples with a sigh. The beauty of the patterns was undeniable, the arcane threads vibrant and alive, yet their secrets remained maddeningly out of reach.

“You’ll get it. It will just take time,” Sasha said softly, sensing my tension. She stood beside me patiently, her presence a comforting warmth in the cool chamber.

“time, something I don’t have a lot of,” I muttered, rotating the telescope slightly and adjusting the lenses again. “I need precision. I need to know exactly when and where these damned rifts will open.”

A soft knock interrupted my focus, echoing gently through the stone chamber. I turned to find one of May’s kitchen attendants holding a tray loaded with food—fresh bread, sliced meats, cheese, and a steaming cup of cossa.

“Master Eric,” she said quietly, eyes respectfully downcast. “May thought you might need something to eat.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the tray gratefully. My stomach growled softly, reminding me of how long it had been since I last ate.

Sasha took the tray from me, setting it down on a small table nearby. “Eat,” she commanded gently. “You’ll think better with food in you.”

She was right, of course. I picked at the bread and meat absentmindedly at first, then with a greater appetite as the simple flavors grounded me, clearing my mind slightly. The cossa chased away some of my frustration, the bitter warmth bringing fresh clarity.

The celestial mana still danced vividly in my mind’s eye, tantalizingly complex yet almost within grasp. There was something—some method or trick to the patterns I had yet to uncover, a key that Montfort had surely known. It had to be in his notes.

As I set aside the last crumbs, another soft knock sounded at the chamber entrance. A young kitsune slave stood in the doorway, tails shifting nervously as she spoke. “Master Eric, Mistress Rachel sends word that she is ready to begin work on the needle.”

My pulse quickened. Finally, progress. “Thank you,” I replied, standing and stretching the stiffness from my muscles. Sasha stepped up beside me, her hand brushing mine softly.

“You’ll find the answers soon,” she whispered, her voice full of gentle encouragement. “And when you do, we’ll close those rifts—together.”

I nodded slowly, purpose settling firmly back into place. “Let’s go find Rachel. It’s time to make the needle and see exactly what we’re capable of.”

I stood, the subtle hum of the telescope's enchantments fading into a whisper behind me. Sasha walked alongside, her presence steady and reassuring as we left the chamber. The cool doors of the observatory closed gently behind us, sealing away celestial mysteries until my next visit.

Descending the spiral staircase felt different now, less like retreating and more like advancing—advancing toward answers, toward action. The warm mana lights along the stairs guided us down in silence, our steps confident and purposeful.

As we exited the observatory, the night greeted us with a gentle embrace. The gardens lay serene under moonlight, the faint fragrance of lilac carried by a cool breeze. For a brief moment, the world felt calm, untouched by the chaos and darkness I knew awaited beyond.

"Are you joining Rachel and me in the workshop?" I asked Sasha, my voice quiet.

She shook her head gently, her sapphire eyes reflecting the stars. "Ashley needs help with the preparations for the gala and her parent's arrival. She'll be unbearable if left to her own devices too long."

I laughed softly, appreciating Sasha’s subtle humor and the truth beneath it. "She does have a flair for intensity," I agreed.

"Be careful," Sasha whispered, stepping close and pressing a tender kiss to my cheek. Her warmth lingered, a gentle promise of what safety she could provide and support.

"Always," I replied, squeezing her hand softly before releasing her. Sasha turned, tails swaying gracefully as she moved swiftly back toward the main house.

I walked alone now back into the observatory, the familiar path to the workshop clear underfoot as I descended the stairs. My thoughts circled around the adamantium coins, Rachel’s enchantments, and the unknowns that lingered just beyond our current knowledge. This needle—it was more than a tool. It was our first strike back against the abyss and the horrors it promised with each rift opening.

The door to the storeroom stood slightly ajar, the subtle flicker of mana lantern light spilling into the workshop. Inside, shelves lined with neatly stacked materials and enchanted components greeted me in quiet order. Beyond the storeroom, the hidden entrance shimmered faintly, revealing the secret workshop where Rachel awaited.

Stepping through the hidden doorway, I saw her standing by the central workbench, eyes bright with excitement, hands deftly arranging tools and notes. Her black hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, stark against her focused expression and flushed cheeks.

“Ready!” Rachel was so excited she was vibrating. Her eyes lifted to mine, fierce, wild, and burning brightly with the passion she had for her beloved craft.

“Oh, I’m so ready to see what you figured out,” I said, nodding and moving into the workshop.

Rachel's excitement pulsed in the air like an electric charge as I approached the workbench. Tools were laid out with ritualistic precision, each enchanted implement gleaming under the soft illumination of mana-infused glow stones lining the ceiling. The adamantium coins rested in a velvet-lined tray, their inner darkness glowing.

"Alright, Eric, listen closely. Adamantium isn't a normal metal. Once we heat it, we have to move quickly."

I nodded, pulling my sleeves up as I moved to her side. "Just tell me what you need."

“Right the basic plan, coin in the crucible, heat it, melt it, pour it in the needle pressure mold. You are going to have to channel mana into that for the whole time it is cooling. There is a bit of a buffer, but it has to be consistent. While you are acting as a sexy mana battery, I’ll get the mithril ready. Once the needle is cool, we place it in here.” Rachel pointed.

The machine was very odd, another mold, but it looked like it was made to move. “What… how or when does it get the enchantments?”

“This part is just getting the mithril to bond with the tiny holes in the adamantium needle the pressure mold makes. It is why it takes so much mana. Even molten adamantium is hard to work with, and we get one shot with each coin. After that, it won’t be forgeable again. Not by mortal hands.”

“Shit, okay, so keep the mana flowing, so this thing bonds the mithril to the adamantium.”

“Yep, it uses concussive cyclical pressure to force the mithril into the holes in the needle. Once cooled, the needle will be encased in mithril, and the real enchanting can start.” Rachel said, going over the steps one more time. Her movements reflected all of her skills and system-enhanced stats.

She was beautiful, alive and vibrant. The way her eyes lit up when she checked each instrument was a passion I knew only the lucky found in life.

She moved to the forge, blue enchantments lighting up. “Montfort has some incredible mana gathering arrays and mana crystals built into this forge! There might not be another like it… Well, maybe at the college or the emperor’s craftsmen might have one, but… can you see!”

The flames inside blazed, not orange, not blue, but with the same dark glow the coins gave off. “The lines, the power, I can’t even imagine how much it must take.”

“A lot, if you want the numbers…”

“No, no, that’s okay. We have a needle to build… Craft?” Rachel placed the crucible in the forge to preheat it.

She turned to me, “Smelt.” She corrected with a wide smile and blue eyes happier than any childes simple pleasure of candy.

I could have thrown her on the ground right then and there and spent the rest of the night basking in the radiance of her joy. “So, heat the crucible up, coin, then mold.”

“Yep, practice channeling your mana in it. Get a good feel for it,” she said, pointing to it with all the authority of a general on the field of battle.

“Yes, ma’am!” I moved to the first mold I would power. The one that would take the liquid coin and turn it into a needle, one that would survive the sea of chaos.

The pressure mold had a clear panel that mana crystals could be slotted into to provide power. I was going to directly focus my mana into these inlets to power the device.

I placed my hand panel, letting my fingers slide into the slots for the crystal where they landed naturally. I focused, pulling my mana up. It was easy, and my mana responded like any other limb.

Out through the arm, down the fingers….

I felt the panel and slots pull, drink, and begin filling. The lines of the inlet enchantment filled, and the small buffer runes filled with power. It only took a trickle of mana to activate, less than one mana a second.

I got a feel for how the mana would be drawn from me. I had to be careful not to overload the pressure mold, but with one hundred in arcane mana manipulation, all I had to do was not force the mana. I had to let it flow from me, a river seeking the ocean, not a fire hydrant.

“Preheat is done,” Rachel said. She took the crucible out, and I picked up the first coin and dropped it in. She quickly placed it back in the forge and shut the door.

“Now we wait?” I asked.

“Not long, but yes,” Rachel said, switching from looking through the clear glass of the forge door and the panel on the side.

We waited and waited. The low roar of the forge was the only sound. The workshop was alive with lights now, almost as if it knew enchanting was happening.

“Get ready. It's almost melted,” Rachel said, one hundred percent of her focus on the melting animation.

I got into position, pressure mold primed, my mana bucking to be released. “Ready,” I said.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.” Rachel flung the forge door open and grabbed the crucible.

In a fluid motion, she stepped across the workshop and poured the glowing darkness into the mold top. She slid the lid closed and cranked the top lock screw into place.

I opened myself to the machine, first a trickle, then more and more of my power fell into the hungry mouth of the pressure mold enchantment.

1 mana a second.

2 mana a second.

5.

At 10 mana a second, the draw leveled out. I could keep things up all night if I had to. Having this much mana rushing through me was euphoric. Power swelled from my core, raced along the unseen channels of my mana body, and out into the world.

No way am I going to fuck up this project… I thought I let the world fall away. The empire, the abyss, the dungeon, slavery, and everything else had no meaning, no reality, as the only thing that became real to me was the mold. The pressure. The adamantium was forced into a shape it would hold for the rest of eternity.

The pressure mold compressed fine holes smaller than a hair into the shaft of the needle, making the outer surface porous. I could feel it since it as my mana relayed information and feelings back to me through my affinity. From what Rachel had said, these holes are what would allow the adamantium to bond with the mithril. The only part of the needle that did not have these hair-sized holes was the tip.

“Eric, Eric…” Eric, who’s Eric… Oh yeah, that’s me. Rachels's voice was coming from far away.

I opened my eyes, “Yeah?”

“It’s done, next step.” She said, ready with tongs to pull the needle out.

“Right, yeah. okay.” I pulled my mana back as she opened the top.

She pulled the needle out. It looked like a large needle for sowing, eyelet, shaft, and point. Not much to it. “Now to check…” she said, moving the needle over to a tray under an arrangement of apparatuses that shined light onto the needle.

“Does that check the holes?” I asked, watching from a few steps back.

“Yep, it can see… Mmm hum… yep, good, good. The holes… yes!” she said, spinning to face me, “Success! The needle is one hundred percent formed, and the holes all match the design.”

“Hell yeah!” I said, raising my hand for a high five.

Rachel stared at me, at my hand, “Why would the demonic plane be good?”

“You hit my hand with yours, like making a clapping sound… and it’s just an expression.” I was in it now. I had left my hand in the air for too long.

She smacked my hand, more confused, “Okay, next, the mithril, it should be ready.”

“Right, same thing. Sexy mana battery.” I said, heading over to the concussive cyclical pressure mold.

Rachel loaded the needle, “That’s right, now to get the mithril to bond. It has to be over ninety-five percent, or at least that’s what Montfort’s notes say…” She didn’t sound like she believed them. I could tell she thought one hundred percent was all that would do.

I slotted my fingers into the mana crystal holes and started channeling mana into the next mold. It had the same buffer runes, but those were small capacitors.

Rachel loaded the adamantium needle. “Mithrils ready.”

“Go for it,” I answered.

She made the same moves with the same grace that was natural to her in her place of joy. Here, she could express herself fully in each move she made.

She poured the mithril and closed the lid.

1 mana a second.

6 mana a second.

9 mana.

 Oh shit its oscillating…. 9 mana, 11 mana, 9 mana, 12 mana, 10 mana. The pull was different. Each compression of the mithril took more then less. More flow then less flow.

I had to relax but focus. Keeping just enough pressure of my will to allow for the surges in draw needed from the concussive cyclical pressure mold to be met. The mold drew mana differently and rhythmically from each finger, ten going out one, then eight out of another, twelve being pulled from my pinky.

 Up, then down. The waves of the ocean. Bigger then smaller.

It was harder, a lot harder. My mana would do what I wanted with no effort, but keeping my mind in sync with each smashing spin of the mold took an incredible amount of focus.

Follow the dance, Eric. Don’t try and lead.

“It is done.” Rachel's words were the final verdict. A judgment resolution over the formation of the process. Her eyes were wide, and she fidgeted with her hands.

“Should I grab it?” I asked.

“Yeah, you do it.” I caressed the tongs away from her and opened the mold. The once dark glowing needle was now encased in a silver-blue metal. It was smooth, and the light glinted off of every surface except for the point. The point still had the faintest hint of that dark, unnatural glow.

“Where…” I started to ask.

“On the tray… Ahhh.” Rachel let a long sigh out, deflating all the tension in her body. She hopped up once more from the chair she was in, ready to face the final score of her test as an enchanter.

I place the needle on the tray. Rachel scanned the readout, odd dancing blue light flickering across her face. “It says… yep… 97 percent.” She turned to me with a wide smile, a straight-A student getting another A plus on a test.

“Fuck yeah!” I said once more, putting my hand out.

She slapped it this time, “I think I might like that. Kind of weird but fun.”

“Yeah, it works. So now we enchant it?” I asked.

“Yes. With this machine. It would take days and more than likely would not be right if we did it by hand. Montfort built this inscriber just for the needles.” She said, taking the needle over to the far end of the workshop. 

It was a box with clear glass on all four sides. From the top of it, bronze arms hung down with silver blue points attached. There were six, not large ones about the size of a fat pen, but long and with many articulation points.

“how’s it work?” I asked.

“Well, you place the needle in the box, and a mana bonding force holds it suspended in the center.” She placed the needle in the box, and it floated into the center, stopping with a sudden jerking motion.

Rachel moved to the panel, “You preload the enchantment you want here by scanning hand-drawn diagrams and working them on the surface of the needle. Montfort had hundreds of designs on here. Most are identical as far as I can tell.” She selected the pattern she had input. “This is mine, based on the prototype and what we’ve learned from his notes before he left.”

She selected the pattern, and the arms went to work. They stretched languid and slow, tips spinning as fast as any drill bit from Earth. They moved in a deliberate dance around the needle, each movement no more than a hair’s width distance each time. “It only works on needles, these ones, and for the inscriber to work, it has to be above 95 percent.”

“Cool, an auto enchanter… almost like three-dimensional printers from my home world.”

“Printers, like a book press? How would it be three-dimensional?” Rachel said, slightly confused.

It was always so odd to me how we could be standing in an advanced machine lab with things close to computers and auto fabricators. Yet, at the same time, none of the accompanying knowledge or technology was present. Places in the empire, like this lab and rooms in the college, seemed to be hundreds of years more advanced, even from things we had on earth, while other locations were little better than a medieval level of technology.

The things I could do if I did not have to worry about slavery and this world-ending business.

“Yeah, but if each press squished clay together, and after a bunch, you had a pot.” I tried to answer.

“Pot. Clay. Right. I sort of see what you mean.”

“How long does this part take,” I asked. Rachel was still focused on the needle and the panel next to it.

“Humm, about twenty more minutes,” she said with a nod, still scanning back and forth between the needle and panel.

I went and sat in a chair and watched her work. Occasionally, she would touch the panel, but she never took her eyes off the project being worked on. She would stick her butt out, hand on hip, as if she was getting ready to scold the auto enchanter.

It was a show I could watch all night. Her faint mutters and whispers to herself, the toss and bounce of her hair as she flicked her head back and forth. She had her enchanting work dress on, practical, unembellished but cut to allow her to move with perfect ease. Being naked would have been the only thing that would have let her move with more freedom.

“It’s finished,” Rachel said, pulling the needle from the inscriber. She held it up to the light, the enchantment lines faint scratches along the surface.

“Should we get Ashley?” I asked.

“No, no… we should test it though,” Rachel answered nervus.

“What did you change about the enchantment?” I asked as we loaded the needle into the test chambers and moved back behind the fortified window. The bronze arms waited for my mana and guidance to pierce the fabric of the universe.

“Well,” Rachel began, tapping her nails against the glass as the chamber lights dimmed, “I wove in a resonance mimicry. It’s a mana loop. It should convince the mithril to echo adamantium’s traits under active enchantment. Just enough for the system to accept the transition through the veil.”

I slid on the gauntlets, each one locking in with a hiss as mana channels activated. The arms of the control rig stirred in the test room beyond the reinforced viewing glass, responding to my movement with precise echo. I rotated my wrists and felt the phantom pull of resistance through the bronze limbs.

“Will it hold?” I asked, steadying the control pillar with my left gauntlet. The needle was already loaded into the guide port, humming with quiet anticipation.

Rachel gave a sharp exhale. “It should. On paper, everything checks out. But the mana pressure past the veil…” Her lips pressed into a line. “We’ll see.”

I pushed my right glove forward. The chamber hissed. The arms moved. The cradle flared blue, then deepened to black violet. The fabric of the universe shattered, a small spider web, a hole.

System Message: Tailoring skill activating. Assisting with dimensional puncture.

The sea of chaos behind the veil rippled, a churning mass of layered time, probability, and magic.

The needle pierced.

The bronze arms held firm. Readouts scrolled across the glass overlay. The mithril casing shimmered. Resonance loop stable. Adamantium core unbent. Mana flow steady. The veil pulsed once as the tip crossed through—and the chamber welcomed the intrusion.

Then the draw hit.

The enchantment surged, the loop spinning faster. I felt it through the gloves. A raw spike of pressure hammering back down the channel. The flow screamed past twenty-three mana a second. Twenty-five. Thirty. I gritted my teeth as the gauntlets burned cold with system feedback.

“Pulling too much,” I growled. “It’s destabilizing—”

Rachel’s voice broke in. “Get it back!”

I yanked the arms. The needle retracted—too fast. The moment it left the sea of chaos, the resonance loop snapped like a tendon under tension.

The mithril casing twisted, buckled, and warped into spiraling ridges. The adamantium core returned pristine, glowing with heat, its integrity unbroken. But the casing…

Rachel stared at the mangled thing as it clattered into the retrieval tray.

“No…” she whispered. “No, no, no!”

I tore the gloves off as she turned, hands clenched in her hair, eyes wild. “It was working. It was working! I calculated the draw! Added an adaptive buffer—why the fuck did it spike?!”

She slammed both palms onto the nearest table. “I didn’t push it hard enough. I was too cautious. Or maybe the mithril was too reactive. Or I missed something in the draw delay equation—”

“Rachel—”

“I had it!” she shouted, chest heaving, face red with fury and shame. “I was right there. I know I was. I’m so—so tired—”

Her voice cracked, the strain of the past days—the missed sleep, the mounting pressure, the weight of expectations—fracturing through her. She backed up against the workbench, arms braced behind her, head thrown back as if trying to physically hold herself together.

I crossed the space and caught her wrists before she collapsed inward. “Stop. Just… stop.”

She looked at me, breath shaking, her lips parted as if about to bite out another theory or self-accusation.

I kissed her.

Hard. Not delicate. Not kind.

Furious heat met mine as she surged up into me, teeth catching my lip, nails digging into my arms. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. This was exhaustion, frustration, fury at the universe—all crashing into something that had nothing to do with logic or control.

She shoved me back against the nearest table, hands tearing at my vest buttons, mouth desperate, breath ragged.

“I should be… I need,” she growled, breathy and hot as she bit my neck where it met my collar bone. “I should be fixing the array. I should be rewriting the enchantment matrix. I should be—”

“Shut up,” I growled, one hand unknotting in her bun and grabbing her hair as it was freed. The other slid beneath her work skirt, gathering and bunching it. “You’ve done enough for one night.”

Her laugh broke into a moan as I spun her and lifted her onto the table. Tools clattering to the floor, I pushed her thighs apart.

“Fuck, if I just… yes, I just…,” she gasped, already unbuttoning my shirt as I tore open her bodice dress front. “Needle wont… get… made… Mmm, oh goddess, yes!” she moaned as I took her hard nipples in my mouth, biting and pulling with the same fury that burned in her at her failure.

My fingers found her already slick, swollen, and desperate. No teasing. No patience. I drove two fingers deep inside her, feeling her body clench around me. "Need this," Rachel gasped, tearing at my belt. "Need you."

I captured her mouth again, swallowing her moans as I worked her with ruthless precision. Her nails scored my shoulders, drawing blood through my torn shirt. I didn't care. The sting only fueled me.

"Inside me," she demanded, yanking my trousers open. "Now."

I yanked her legs apart, exposing her wet sex. No underwear. The little minx had been working all day without them. My cock sprang free, hard and throbbing with fury and need. Her hand wrapped around my cock, guiding me to her entrance with desperate need.

I didn't hesitate. One hard thrust, and I was buried to the hilt, her back arching off the table as she screamed.

“Oh, Sippsie, yes! Ahh, more, yes!” Rachel screamed, letting frustration turn to heat and passion.

The workshop filled with the sound of skin against skin, tools clattering to the floor as I pounded into her. Rachel wrapped her legs around my waist, heels digging into my back, urging me deeper to fill her, fill her body, mind, and soul.

"More," she gasped, eyes wild. "Yes! Hard!” She bucked violently against me.

I grabbed her hips, fingers bruising soft flesh as I changed the angle, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out with each thrust. Her hands sent papers flying as she scrambled for purchase, pushing closer and fleeing the building pleasure.

"Look at me," I commanded, gripping her jaw. Her eyes locked with mine, pupils expanded wide with lust. "You're brilliant. You're perfect. We’ll make… that fucking… needle work!" Each syllable a primal thrust into her,

She came with a strangled cry, “Ahh, yes! fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Her inner walls clenching around me in violent pulses. I didn't slow, driving her through it, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling the convulsions of her body try to twist her from my hands. There was no escape for her, not while I held her, pushing her through torrential waves of crashing pleasure.

"Again," I growled, sliding my thumb to her clit, circling the swollen bud mercilessly.

Rachel thrashed beneath me, “Yes, again… Again…” her words now a whimpered moan of lost longing along the sea of her body’s pleasure. Her words dissolving into incoherent pleas of, ”Mmmm… Naaammm… ee… ahh.” I flipped her over, bending her across the workbench, and drove back into her with a single thrust. Her back arched, breasts pressed against cold metal as I took her from behind.

"Can't—think!" she gasped between thrusts. "Just—fuck!”

I yanked her raven hair back, arching her spine as I slammed deeper. "Is this what you need? To stop thinking? To just feel?"

"Yes!" Her voice broke on a sob of pleasure. "Goddess, yes!"

"Eric! Fuck! Don't stop!" Her voice broke as another orgasm tore through her. Her legs trembled, threatening to give out. I held her up, one arm around her waist, as I continued my relentless pace.

Sweat dripped between us, making our bodies slide together in slick heat. The scent of sex filled the workshop, heavy and primal. I felt my own release building, pressure coiling tight at the base of my spine.

Rachel twisted her head, seeking my mouth. Our kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, breathing each other's air. "Inside," she commanded. "Fill me."

Her words pushed me over. I slammed into her one final time, burying myself to the hilt as my cock pulsed, flooding her with hot seed. Rachel cried out, her inner walls milking me for every hot drop she could get.

Moans filled the room, Rachel’s “Mmm’s.” and “Oh fuck yes, fill me, fill me,” screaming through frustration as we performed the oldest alchemy. Our bodies the cauldrons, beakers, and alembics for the alchemy of change, fury to passion, passion to love, love that binds and frees, that conquers all.

We collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, tools, and papers scattering around us like fallen stars. Rachel's weight settled against my chest, her breath ragged against my neck, her body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. The cool stone beneath us contrasted with the furnace of our skin, slick with sweat and the evidence of our shared release.

"I can't... feel my legs," she whispered, her voice dream-soft as her eyelids fluttered. Her hair spilled across my chest like black ink, wild and free from its usual precise arrangement.

"Good," I murmured, pressing my lips to her temple. My fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine, feeling each delicate vertebra, each subtle shift as her breathing slowed.

The workshop's enchanted lights dimmed as if sensing our need for darkness, for peace. Shadows pooled around us, protective and kind. Rachel's weight grew heavier, her limbs loose as consciousness began to slip away from her. I felt myself drifting, too, pulled under by the tide of spent passion and bone-deep peace.