Chapter 6: Reflections on Time and Space, Nicholas POV (Patreon)

Chapter 6

Reflections on Time and Space

Nicholas POV

As The Pantheon rose into the air over the desert, I made my second planet-wide announcement, explaining that I would deal with the Horde invaders and that everyone should prepare to evacuate upon my return because I would be taking them out of Sector 3. The Pantheon exited the upper atmosphere within seconds of me ending my announcement and jumped to FTL. The planet I saw so clearly through my Domain vanished behind me as I sat on my throne and sighed, releasing my pent-up frustration.

This was not how I imagined events would play out.

I withdrew my Domain, cutting myself off from The Pantheon and the emptiness of space, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The Game had turned me into a God. Not some extremely powerful but limited Thor-like deity, but a biblical one. With a thought, I could see and exercise power over an entire planet. With enough time, I could create mountains or kill every living creature.

My only limit was my imagination.

This sent my thoughts in a hundred different directions, and none were useful. The larger ramifications of what I’d become kept derailing my focus until I finally forced myself to return to my tried-and-true method for planning my actions.

I started to make a list.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to force myself to calm down as I talked myself through the familiar process. “Okay, Nicholas. What was the last step of the plan to go right?” I pulled up the old list and looked at the last two steps.

-Travel to the ruins of the alien warship and use the ship repair kit

-If successful, collect everyone in Sector 3 and take them to a safe sector

By the loosest definition, I’d successfully repaired the warship, so I now had a way to help everyone get out of Sector 3. That meant I needed to plan how to make that happen. For that, I needed to understand what time constraints I was working with.

I opened my Domain, taking in The Pantheon, the space around her, and the disgruntled crew as I projected my voice to Pan. He was on the lowest deck, pinning a pair of drunken pirates to the ceiling with his power, berating them for drinking on the job as he choked the life from them.

“What are you doing?” I asked him, concerned by the violence.

Pan glared at the pirates, somehow looking quite imposing despite the mustard yellow satin and lace. “I’m educating these gentlemen on why they shouldn’t steal rum, my Liege.”

“It seems excessive.”

“Only because I’m a thorough educator. What can I do for you?”

I decided I had enough problems without pursuing how Pan treated the crew. “How long will it take us to deal with the Horde’s fleet?”

Pan paused. “I imagine it will take no more than six hours. Your ability to open a portal back to this system means we only have to consider the journey there. Why do you ask?”

“I’m planning my next move.”

The two intoxicated pirates passed out, and Pan released them, letting them fall to the deck.

“Make sure your plans are flexible. You’re now part of a different Game than the one you are used to.”

I sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

***

Power is insidious. Unchecked, it turns the extraordinary into the mundane and deprives us of a life of wonder. Take the telephone, for example. When I was a boy, we had to walk to the corner to use one. We spoke with the operator who manually connected us with the person we wished to speak to, and then we savoured every second of that conversation. Those brief words over a crackly phone line were sometime all you could afford to share with the people you cared about. It was a privilege. A miracle of science. Those moments were everything to us. They connected the unconnected. And we treated them preciously.

But power turns the extraordinary into the mundane. That’s why it’s insidious. Power takes that precious phone call you have to work for, struggle for, and sacrifice for and turns it into a video call over the internet. It turns it into a face-to-face conversation with the people you love while barely costing a cent. You would think we would rejoice over this miracle. But it holds no wonder, no awe, and no value beyond convenience.

Power makes you take the marvellous for granted.

You tap your smartphone screen and have your friend in another country appear for half a minute, and then go back to what you were doing, missing the effortless miracle that had taken place. You waste a chance at awe, a chance at wonder, and a chance to be inspired. You take the extraordinary for granted.

Why was any of that important?

It was important because twenty minutes after questioning Pan on our timeline, I realised I’d used my Domain to ask him questions. I’d used omnipresence without thought or consideration and felt no sense of wonder. The act felt so natural to me, I hadn’t realised that I was using omnipresence at the time or immediately after. It was like I’d picked up my phone and called someone. It seemed insignificant.

Yes, omnipresence seemed insignificant to me.

I was still brooding over this realisation, with my unfinished to-do list, when Pan entered the throne room. He opened the doors by wielding his power, strode down the red carpet, swept his tricorn from his head, and dropped into a deep bow before my throne. “My Liege, we’ve reached the first transit ring.”

I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “Do you need permission to take us through?”

Pan rose and placed his hat back on his head. “You misunderstand, my Liege. The Pantheon is too large to pass through any transit ring. You must use your Domain to pierce the veil and open a passage to the beyond.”

I sighed. “English, please.”

Pan took his hat off. “You need to figure out how to use your Domain to peer through the transit ring and open a portal to the other side so the Pantheon can move between systems and sectors.”

“Can’t I just stretch my arm through the transit ring and open a portal that way?”

“You can, but this way is faster.”

“The other way is easier.”

“Only until you learn this method.”

That was probably true. “Why is this even necessary?”

“As I told you earlier, you can abandon The Pantheon or lose her. To mitigate the risk this would pose to the Game, the moderators linked The Pantheon’s ability to travel from system to system to your ability to open portals. The system where you give up or lose control of The Patheon will become her final port.”

“While that’s reassuring, I don’t understand how to do what you suggest.”

“I believe I said you need to figure it out.”

I sighed. “You make it sound like I need to learn how to butter bread, but you’re asking me to figure out how to use omnipresence to open a wormhole in a solar system that I can only see through another wormhole.

“You’re a Transcendent being. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“You’re that confident?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” I pushed myself to my feet and started walking to the door.

Pan shoved his hat back on. “My Liege, your actions are unnecessary.”

I stopped walking. “I’ve recently made a rule for myself. I’ll only use my powers when it’s entirely necessary.”

“May I ask why?”

“I don’t like how they’re affecting me. I’m already beginning to think this is normal.”

Pan took his hat off. “Your rule won’t help, but I understand your concern, so I’ll humour you. It might take a little longer, but standing on the bow and looking through the transit ring will be just as effective as using your Domain for this.”

“Thank you.”

Pan looked at his hat and then back at me. “I didn’t consider how disorientating this would be for you or how difficult it would be for you to adapt. Playing a character rather than talking candidly with you is inconsiderate of me. I’m sorry. I’ll speak plainly to you going forward.”

Pan's words touched me. “I’d appreciate that.”

He put his hat back on. “I wish the best of luck with your endeavour, my Liege.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Pan turned on his heel and walked to the door. “That was candid and to the point. No one can say otherwise.”

***

Stars twinkled across an endless black sea as I tried to use my line of sight to open a portal to the system on the other side of the transit ring. I could easily open a portal to anywhere I’d been. I could easily open a portal to anywhere I could physically see. I could easily open a portal to anywhere within my Domain that I hadn’t physically seen. But for some reason, I couldn’t easily open a portal to the system on the other side of the transit ring despite looking through.

It didn’t help that I kept getting distracted. For some reason, I couldn’t recognise or comprehend the technology used to construct the transit ring, which bothered me. I felt like I should have understood it. But even something as simple as the metal it was made from was beyond me.

That question kept burning inside me, pulling my gaze to the transit ring. The device was close to three kilometres wide, but The Pantheon’s deck had a kilometre of overhang on either side of the ring, so there was no possible way we would fit through.

This close, the transit ring reminded me of the inlet to a small river. It looked big when boats were on it but seemed tiny when a commercial vessel tried to pass through.

I forced my gaze back to the wormhole before me and the solar system on the other side. I’d already resorted to trying to use my Domain, but it couldn’t pierce the wormhole. It had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t created the wormhole, but I wasn’t sure of anything beyond that, so I’d gone back to staring.

Staring felt right.

This time, as I stared, my awareness of what was on the other side of the transit gate slowly grew. It was like I could see it more clearly. Like there had been fog, and it was now lifted.

I suddenly knew enough to open a portal.

With that change came knowledge and understanding, like I had unlocked a long-forgotten memory. The key wasn’t focusing on everything I could see but focusing on a single point. Once I understood that, it was simple to focus on another point and scrutinise it until I understood where I was focusing.

It wasn’t just a place.

It was a time.

A weaving of the two.

I instinctively understood everywhere I’d been, but this was a place I was going. I need the where and the when.

In the space of a second, I felt like I could open a portal, so I did. A portal as thick as my pinkie appeared before me, connected to the solar system on the other side of the transit gate. I opened my Domain and pushed it through the portal, establishing a connection with the wider space, making it possible to see and open a larger portal.

After a brief thought and a little effort, a massive flickering portal appeared before The Pantheon. I didn’t think through what it would take to open such a massive portal, and the power expenditure left me immobile, physically incapable of any movement. And that was with the portal being unstable.

This wasn’t a problem for me until the crew noticed.

My gut instincts started going crazy, telling me I was about to be stabbed if I didn’t free myself immediately. I sensed one of the pirates approaching my back, heard his footsteps across the wood, and heard his knife being drawn from its sheath.

I opened my stat page and dumped all 10 of my transcendent points into my F-1 Domain, bringing it to E-1, increasing its range, along with the strength of the buff it gave.

Domain Buff Improved

+2 sub-grades

An extra sub-grade to my Power, Might, and Wisdom stabilised the portal and gave me enough freedom to look over my shoulder. Sneaking up behind me was a dirt-crusted, scar-ridden pirate wielding a knife. He gave me a sickly gap-toothed grin, and as I met his gaze. He was excited to be caught.

As I looked into his eyes, I saw the depravity he was capable of. Images flashed through my mind as his life was laid bare. His name was Ripper, and he was irredeemable. Others had tried to help him throughout his life, and everyone had paid the price for it. This life wasn’t forced upon him. He chose it. He wanted it. And it wasn’t violent enough for his liking.

I glanced past him to the helm and shouted. “Take her in.” Then I turned around to face him and placed my hand on the pommel of my cutlass.

Ripper didn’t believe in fighting fair.

He chuckled as he turned and walked off in another direction.

The gut instincts faded.