Wednesday, March 25, 2026

Armadominus 1

Walter Grady, Armadominus 
Durham Six Mid-Frontier Planet
Spaceport Authority

Walter had purchased an additional bay on the freighter for all of his work equipment and now everything was due to be moved to the shop he had rented for six months. He couldn't rent it for any less time, but he wasn't sure if he would stay all six.

He's worn the same Federation standard frontier service jacket for ten years. Bought it off a retiring soldier. It's now practically grey though it was once blue. He invests in boots and they last for years, although this pair of brown boots is about due to be replaced. There's a satchel of his personal gear: his most important tools and some items he keeps for more sentimental reasons. A small plaque from the old Refiner's Guild that was active almost a century ago. 

He once serviced all manner of small refined items, from weapons to tools to armor. Only gradually did he turn to his current profession, at first living in the deep frontier just making small repairs to crystal suits of local loose cultivators.

Eventually he identified some common flaws in then active suits, and began to make his own custom modifications. He went through Armadominus school in his eighties, after he broke through to Foundation Establishment and knew he would live long enough to make the investment worthwhile.

His first work with sects began a bit after that, once he had a few positive experiences to share with them. Gradually he worked up to doing the full job at full rates, working for the Federation's senior officers, but more often a steady repair rotation for loose cultivators and then the lynchpin was work done for the sects.

"Mr. Grady, everything has been accommodated per your requests."

The spaceport's passenger concierge was getting on age himself. Walter authorized a credit transmission to the concierge and then bowed quickly. "Thank you Mr. Porter."

He hadn't scored high enough in the Entrance Exams to get admitted to one of the Nine great cultivation universities, so he served his mandatory four years in the Federation army. Surprising himself and the other members of his unit, he ignited his cultivation during a particularly fierce battle, in which he repaired enough equipment for five men to continue to fight and then charged out with them.

The Federation army tried to retain cultivators, but even those in their mandatory four years of service were allowed to step down once they became cultivators, and he did just that. 

The Refiner's Guild was an attempt to move beyond all of this friction between cultivation sects, and his XO had recommended that instead of looking for a sect. When the guild lost it's last credit chain and went insolvent, he become a loose cultivator and refiner, which he still was.

Durham Six was a bit hot and low-grav, but not that extreme in either dimension. About 80% of Hyperion's gravity.

He unzipped his jacket, stepping out into the transit corridor. Even on Mid-frontier worlds, transportation was well-organized, and rows of busses, taxis and individual automatic cars picked up passengers seamlessly.

Though money was largely digital, he took out his wallet to get to his Refiner card. It was silver, representing a Foundation Establishment stage certified refiner. It was basically his ID, and as a refiner he had some privileges on most worlds, such as free auto-car for work purposes.

"Recognized, Walter Grady, Silver-Star refiner."

The car crawled through traffic until they could reach the wider transport tubes away from the station. Then it sped up. He had requested a location reasonably close to city center when I left. Crystal Processors would have analyzed the available locations, kept my price limit in mind and modest noise and heat generation of my equipment and found a suitable location.

As the car pulled up to the location I realized it had previous been a gym. Dragoon's Gym, the sign said, it's display logic gone dark.

I pulled my smaller traveling crystal processor from my satchel as I stepped to the front door. The building was established with a main level and a full basement. The basement would be suitable for my refining work, with the upstairs for residence and meeting clients. It just needed some changes.

The processor shined in the sun, it's arrays and mirrors taking in base solar energy as well as qi to power it. I was not an expert in crystal processors, although I could do minor repairs. I watched carefully as my processor unfolded. I set it down on the pavement outside the building, and it expanded fully like a satellite. A holographic projection shimmered into view in front of me.

I stepped back to see it more clearly. This was my three dimensional processor interface. I used it occasionally for planning and diagramming schematics but mostly for interfacing with other processors. 

I connected to the City authority's processors and downloaded the legal paperwork associated with the building. Review it, I had the authority to make modifications to the building, but I was liable for any drop in the assessed value of property that could be attributed to my changes instead of general market conditions. I signed all the papers and reviewed what construction contractors were available. 

I decided to prepare for living in the place first, and brought in my satchel and the crystal processor.

The front desk, where people paid and checked in to the gym became my early base of operations, as I explored the property. 


My other possessions, everything from the extra freighter bay, arrived around 2 pm, and I worked with the movers to bring it carefully down into the basement. I would need flame-hardening, sound proofing, and replacing the gym floors with something less flammable.

I had repurposed the back storage room into my personal quarters and bedroom. It looked like the gym had got into personal wellness and health and was selling a lot of energy drinks and various fitness boosters. 

I separated all of the products, finding all out of date and worthless to me, so I took that and piles of packaging material to the trash dump. 

I had to get construction in to build a new exhaust from the basement up and out the roof. Most refining I did didn't cause much pollution but I had to make sure I was safe.

I had my personal quarters set up by dinner time, and arranged a contractor to visit in two days. I examined food options.

My own home had been in the north on Hyperion, where people preferred heartier food, and if I wasn't trying something new I would gravitate towards that.

I was used sitting with some random family, as most restaurants didn't want to take up a bigger table with an individual. This time it was three business associates, all three were former graduates from one of the Lesser Six universities, focusing on technical and administrative careers rather than cultivators.

Son Chu explained, "Hyun is an advanced drycleanist. If you need anything pressed, cleaned with advanced techniques in 2 to 4 hours, that is his trade. Yan works large repair and rebuilds of busses, vans, that sort of thing. And I'm studying under Hsu Machine Co. There was a new branch opened up here, and these two decided to open their businesses here as well."

I found that with my background in the army and years serving as a fairly humble repairer, people didn't identify me as a cultivator. Mortal machining was all more standardized and worked on simpler components and machines, at lower temperatures and more stable conditions. It was mostly civilian goods done in large batches."

Instead of revealing my full identity, which would be like projecting the heights of my Foundation Establishment power, I revealed the silver-star refiner card.

"The old master is wise," Son Chu said. "If you have any need of Hsu Machine Co. or my brothers we would be happy to serve. 

"Perhaps."

I rarely dressed up. Sect elders usually came to me and I didn't mind ignoring those who were prickly about attire.

"Heard any news about recent attacks in the region?" I added. I had crossed from an entirely different region of the frontier so I was eager to hear.

"There was a 1st level demon surge out on Fire Waste Preserve," Son Chu said.

Yan added, "I got a shipment of parts from damaged busses on Severus 2. Demonic Mosquitos formed in the transport corridor. 2nd Level. They were dispatched quickly but still."

I personally considered that I could handle a 3rd Level on my own, 4th level with assistance from others, and I hadn't used my service weapon in decades.

"Got lots of business?" I asked Hyun.

"The Ghost Cultivation Sect has it's soul collection staff uniforms get dry-cleaned every week. Have you seen the ghost schools?"

The souls of those who died to demonic attacks or in other violent ways could be searched out with expensive equipment, their lives would be changed forever. Only a small percentage of mortals could ignite the unusual ghost-form of cultivators, but most former cultivators who died and were rescued in this way could become ghost cultivators. The Ghost Cultivation Sect had spread around the known world to perform these rescues and run schools for the ghosts. Those who graduated served throughout the Federation as well. It was a hope for many, that even if a demon surge did happen, they might be saved.

"I've known a few ghost cultivators over the years. There was that cabinet minister married to a ghost cultivator as well," I said.

But I guess the reference was old, as neither of the three knew what I was talking about. "Youngsters," I quipped. "There's also the Thunderous Axe Sect and the Iron Arm Sect on planet, if you didn't know already."

"I've been trying to get some work with the Axe sect, but nothing. Seems like half the Iron Arm Sect prefers to not wear a shirt," Hyun said.

Son Chu laughed, "Yeah the Iron Arms have caused some damage around town, boss had us working with the construction crews, had to remake some parts, emergency batch."


His first work on Durham Six came when the Captain of the Federation army here on planet 

"Only a corporal, huh," the Captain remarked, when I told him the highest rank I had attained during my service time. "We've always desperately needed good refiners, but brass never seems to prioritize keeping them. Now you're too expensive for us, sounds like you put in some good time for the old Guild."

"25 years," I responded. I had been a few weeks away from my 25 year citation when the guild folded, technically. "What are you looking to have built?"

"I've been using a small suit for three years, since my medium suit was largely fragged. Hyperion Wolf medium suit. It was a standard configuration, but I'm willing to pay for some customizations."

The Captain was at the pinnacle of Foundation establishment stage. Most army, even leaders, left for much better opportunities when they reached Golden Core. Golden Core was the prerequisite for becoming a leader in most sects, or starting your own sect.

"I work with a custom point system. Simple customizations can be half a point, up to 5, 7 or even 10 point customization. The cost will be 200 K plus 50k per point."

"I favor my right-side, I had an injury to my left arm that never quite healed right, so if you can adjust the suit to provide more of the power circuitry on the right, that would fit my preferences."

"Probably 2 points for that. It'll be a few weeks. I need to source at least a suitable Hyperion Wolf hulk to repair.


Crystal Suits were layered sets of functionality. The power system and dedicated internal crystal processor were designed to allow the cultivator to express his natural movement, and have the suit flow with the human movement. Body cultivators or cultivators with many special abilities, needed more customizations to get a suit that matched their unarmored capabilities. The suit F da was armor and also provided a power source for elementally active weapons like fire axes or thunder-swords. It also provided superior movement capabilities in battle.

Small suits tried to pack everything into a small frame and suffered heavily in armor and energy throughput, while medium suits tended to do acceptably well in every category, but could become too generalist, not providing any strengths. Many of the commonly produced medium suits could be customized to suit a cultivator's fighting style and enable a doubling or even tripling of their ability compared to a standard suit. This was the lynchpin of his career. Large suits were again largely specialized for specific purposes, especially centered around large ranged weapons, although brutal melee large suits also could do devastating things. Their cost ensured they were only used by sect elders, and elite sects.


It was two days later, he was doing a bit of small repairs for a few loose cultivators who heard he was in town. 

The large forge had been added to the small forge in the basement, and he had small parts set aside for processing on the smaller forge, but even still, he used the basic heat and hammering approach for some repairs.

The Frost Helmet continued to apply ice to his heat which melted and fell down his forehead and chin as he worked in the heat.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

He steadily hit the solid armor plate of the suit in an even 4 part rhythm.

The bent portions of the armor plate were steadily brought back into position. He used tongs to position the plate, snapping it back together with the rest of the suit.

The energy transmission lines was broke on the bottom right side, and he turned to that next, pulling out the current crystal plumbing. He forcefully pushed the new plumbing into the suit, guiding it around and up to the power source. 

He had purchased a half dozen copies of several common power cores, but in this case the existing core was still fine. He reconnected the power and watched everything energize. He was still waiting on an order of more advanced power cores, but there was a lead time of several weeks to deliver the cores from an interior world.

Turning to the cultivator's ice sword, he reviewed the power transmission throughout the blade, made a few minor fixes, and then lastly, fixed up a few small parts. Various snaps and buckles tended to break during regular usage, and one of the free benefits he provided customers was to replace all of those broken bits and bobs. Taking the parts he had gathered up, he worked on them in the small forge, removing minor manufacturing defects and issues.

Using all the new buttons and doodads he completely reassembled the suit, and placed it on the armor stand, examining it. With a few touches of paint, he artfully drew any insignias or manufacturer's mark that had been on the original suit, and then added small lightning axe with his initials WG, all done in a silver coloring.

He had a rapid paint dryer unit which is used, and then carried the suit upstairs. He had a half dozen displays for completed suits. It made for easy retrieval when the customer returned and it tended to drive additional questions and business.

A woman was standing at the counter. Age was so hard to judge, cultivators who rose through the stages rapidly often didn't age much to the eyes, so there were many elders that looked younger than their outer sect disciples. 

But he quickly identified the girl as a Qi Condensation junior, likely in her mid-twenties. Her blonde hair was tied up, and she wore a light padded armor set, not a crystal suit, and no visible weapon or mark of who she was.

"Good morning," she said.

Placing the completed medium crystal suit in the display, he responded. "Good morning, young disciple. Recently arrived on Durham?"

"Been here three years, I was still in the Initiate school until six weeks ago."

He turned to the crystal processor, noting the suit's completion in his task list and then added, "Let me know if you have any questions."

The top floor of the building now showed some of the models of suits he could readily obtain on short notice, as well as displays of what customization and repair work he could do. 

"I've done a fair bit of work for the Axe sects elsewhere," he said, feeling out which of the sects she was from. 

"I'm Iron Arm," she said, and he looked at her more closely. Still very junior. She didn't have that buff muscled tone common to the sect members. "Looking for a light suit. Maybe a recommendation of what to purchase."

"I can give you some basic advance on light suits," I said.

Adjusting the crystal processor to project it's display on the far wall, I added. "Names Walter Grady, silver-star refiner and Armadominus. What's yours young disciple?"

"Talia Risa. I'm still a probationary member of the sect. There's a dozen of us trying out to join the Outer Sect."

She moved confidently for a junior, but her strength was probably not her greatest advantage in combat.

"Light suits always have significant disadvantages, so you need to understand what role you will be playing in battle. Generally not front line or second line combatant roles, although there are some designs that could work there. My references are all Hyperion make, since I was born there, but I have familiarity with the other two of the triad.

"The Hyperion Spider is designed to move quickly, optimizing agility and speed, but with a very light armor layer. You don't want to get hit. It's still much better than just relying on padded armor. Your speed and agility will be enhanced, but your striking power doesn't really increase.

"On the other hand, the Hyperion Snake focuses on agility, not as much on speed, and on sudden striking power. The energy flow to weapons is designed to spike, not stay at a steady level. You need to deal decisive blows when you attack, as the Snake will over-tap it's core during extended use if you don't pull back. The Snake thus leads to an attack and retreat style of battle. Lastly, the Ant will give you some significant armor protection for a light suit, but it will impair your ability to move out of the way of attacks, and your speed in general will be lessened. Basically the Ant is just a heavy padded armor, providing none of the common benefits of suits, but providing a charged armor using the power source. There are the Leaf and the Mantis as well, they are even more specialist suits."

Talia had seemed to react as he explained each suit's disadvantages, dismissing most of them. 

"What about the Tianzhao Dragon?" Talia said after a while.

Walter smiled, "You've heard of that, huh. I haven't seen one of those in a few years. Elite Light suit. Extensive firepower, it's primary purpose is for cultivators of a more elemental sort. Your Sacred Staff sect. I don't think it would be appropriate for an Iron Arm, even if you could find one or afford it."

"What do you recommend then?" Talia asked finally.

"If I had to guess, your own strengths lie towards agility and movement, you will get stronger, and eventually you can move to a mainline medium suit. For now I think the Hyperion Spider, or possibly a Takamagahara Tsukigumo. I've just seen a few of those are available. Durham was founded by Hyperion settlers, so it will always be a little harder to get parts for the Tsukigumo, but it does offer a unique grace."

"Moon Spider, huh, interesting, what's the price on that one?"

"23.5. Another two if you want me to do a fitting for you, I recommend it."

"And the Spider?" she added.

"16 thousand, same deal with the fitting. Hyperion makes are a lot easier to find."

"As much as I like the idea of the Tsukigumo, I better not go with something like that while I'm learning."

She seemed to wince as she transferred the payment. 

"Let me know if any of the other probees are looking for suits," he added.

He wouldn't be making much on the suits, he reduced his surcharge for obtaining and going over the suit to a mere 15%, and 12.5% on the Takamagahara model.

She nodded and then left.

Talia stepped in the next day, while he was spending some time identifying additional suits he could make available for customers. She was a little less tentative than before. This time she didn’t come alone.

The girl behind her filled the doorway without trying to.

Walter glanced up, taking in the heavier stance, the reinforced padding, the way the floor seemed to notice her weight.

Iron Arm, he thought. No question.

“Told you,” Talia said lightly, gesturing. “He knows his stuff.”

The other girl’s eyes moved over the displays, then settled on Walter.

“Rinna,” she said. “I need something that won’t break.”

"What's your budget, I've seen some light-medium suits become available that are better suited for you than anything in the pure light-suit category."

She seemed to be appraising him as she stepped towards the counter.

"I could probably work 36 thousand," she said.

That was cutting a bit into his margin, but establishing a steady business with the sect seemed work it. Marketing expense, he could classify it that way.

"Behold, the Tianzhao Black Tortoise. Missed Medium suit classification because of the limited energy routing capacity of the design, so they lightened it to make it almost a light-suit, light-medium. I could obtain it to you for 35. It'll be an extra three days before I receive it and do more standard review of it's components. The Federation army considered using it for their lieutenants before choosing the Hyperion Steadfast."

"Jeeze, spend a little," Talia laughed. 

"What, you don't think David's spending 50 at least on his model?"

"We're headed out to the wilds in 30 days for our final trials, so that has everyone trying to gather funds and obtain whatever suit they can," Talia added. "How many days on mine?"

"Should have the base unit on tuesday, and I'll start working on it. Should be ready Thursday."


They were just children to even the Outer Sect members, and they only had weekly check-ins with their fitness advisor, so Talia and the other probationary members of the sect spent a lot of time outside the sect grounds. She'd heard the field work for full sect members was 10 days on, 10 days off.

Elder Marteen was the senior disciple of this branch of Iron Arm, but they'd only seen his subordinates once. The sect was supposedly paid by the Federation government to patrol planets, and that was one of the ways the Iron Arms supported themselves.

She trained daily in a park that happened to be near to Refiner Grady's shop. Despite not being a warrior, he was strong, and evidently used that strength daily for his refining work. Talia thought he was one of the strongest cultivators on the planet after Elder Marteen, the Captain of the Army and whatever elder the Thunderous Axe sect had on planet.

He didn't seem to mind if she stopped in and spoke to him briefly during the day. This new attack motion was difficult. They actually had sat and observed one of the Inner Sect members demonstrating this knee strike maneuver, but she kept falling over or not getting sufficient force when trying the move.

She wanted to take full opportunity of being a cultivator. Her parents and grandparents were all simple mortal workers, having served in factories and service jobs for years, barely paying the bills.

If she failed this trial, she would go to the military, but everyone knew the army was a dead-end position for most cultivators, you didn't get the resources to have a chance of advancing.

She couldn't fail. She was thinking on that as she entered Grady's shop.

The spiritual pressure in the shop was always greater when Mr. Grady was downstairs working on a project. It felt like being caught inside of a forge, smelling seven types of oil and six hot metals.

She didn't realize she was doing it until Mr. Grady cleared his throat. "My shop is probably not the best place to be practicing martial forms."

His work jacket and shirt were soaked in sweat, a more difficult job perhaps than usual. 

"Sorry about that Refiner Grady. I was waiting for your work to complete, and this form has been on my mind the past few days since we were taught it."

"You're still thinking about things in physical terms. Physically you can do the motions, but you're not letting the qi flow along the diagrams."

She never understand the diagrams and all of the spirit flow nonsense the sect pushed her way. It just didn't make sense, beyond the most basic qi loop from her dantian.

"Did no one sit down and show you how to read the diagrams?"

"I guess most of us muddled through figuring things out, maybe a couple of the probationary disciples understood them, There were no classes as far as I know. We haven't had a lot of one on one or classroom time really."

Initiate school was mostly about reaching basic fitness levels and solidifying their foundations in Qi Condensation.

"Energy flow diagrams and qi diagrams are pretty similar, and I know both so I can help a bit. Can I receive whatever notes you were given for the new form?"

Talia had folded them several times, and constantly unfolded and refolded as she tried to get the maneuver right.

Embarrassed, she unfolded the paper and handled it over.

He placed it on the counter and with a simple press of his hands, it straightened out, losing the various crinkle lines where she had folded it.

"Give me your basic punch," he said after a few minutes examining the notes. He was now staring at her intently.

The basic of basics then, she hummed and then struck out.

Setting the Furious Knee Strike's notes aside, he turned to his crystal processor and projected a simple diagram.

"That's a spirit punch diagram. The simplest one," Talia said.

"But do you understand it. The notation is terse, but what shows here, with the middle line going slightly further than the top and bottom lines, is that your qi surges out, striking just one moment before your fist. This gives the punch a flash of power."

Grady's punch was smooth, his face didn't show a hint of effort, but she stepped back away, feeling the intensity of the strike. 

"Your qi is struggling to get to your hand in time for the strike. It is better to first delay, wait for your qi to mobilize and then strike. Just practicing the basic punch properly will help your knee technique as well. All standard attack forms use a surge of qi to power the blow. If the qi is behind the physical fist, then only the physical fist will hit with a small portion of the qi aiding you, the rest is wasted. If the Qi hits first, then the fist or knee, you will find a much stronger strike. Many diagrams have these three line forms, look for them as the simplest unit."

Talia bowed. "Thank you Master Grady, sorry for taking your time."

Grady bowed in return. "No problem. A lot of the teachings of the old days are lost. And some of what is taught in the army is forgotten in the sects, and the other way around as well. Your suit will be ready in another day."


He had fixed a few deficiencies in the Hyperion Spider, fitted it for Talia and then put in a few last minute touches, more than he would normally do for a client not paying for a custom job, but whatever, that was his choice.

Rinna's Tianzhao Black Tortoise had arrived, so he would spend some time getting that ready. He hadn't seen Rinna again since that first day when she came in with Talia, although Talia had stopped by nearly every day.

He would never recommend Black Tortoise for someone looking for a solid standard medium crystal suit, but for a junior it was a very good suit. Rinna would stand out amongst the other candidates being evaluated, he expected. If Talia got in, it would likely be for a scouting or other less combat heavy position. Scouting was quite dangerous work, and demanded a certain personality, a shrewd, brave person willing to retreat in the face of danger rather than crashing through it.

The Captain's Hyperion Wolf suit finally arrived, and with all the customization required, he would be too busy to talk to Talia for a bit. She reminded him just a bit of his daughter when she had been that age. Although neither of his kids were cultivators, and they were grandmas and grandpas of their own families at this point.

Talia was there with Rinna when I delivered Rinna's suit. She hadn't paid for fitting, which was not a problem. Some paid for it, some didn't.

"Staying busy, huh?" Talia said after Rinna had accepted her suit.

"I'm working on customizing the Captain's new suit. Hyperion Wolf. It'll be a few weeks of work to get that done."

"I'll check in with you after our Field trip."

Rinna laughed, "That's what you're calling our first combat, Talia?"


Captain Marcus Hale favored his right side for attack strikes, and so I swapped in a thicker capillary line for the energy distribution system. Customization was the main way senior cultivators separated themselves from standard Medium suit wearers.

Hale was a sword user, so I provided armoring for his hands, but didn't make the hand or feet armor into gauntlets or strike boots. Instead I swapped the power core for a slightly upgraded model, and then custom tuned the power output headed to the sword to support the Fire sword's needs. Ducting channeled any generated heat from the core into an energy converter. Fire aspected weapon users could reliably used this kind of converted energy, whereas Ice types needed more isolation to keep the heat away.

I provided some additional speed enhancements through the boots of the suit. Hale was not particularly fast but he found additional speed always helpful. Crystalline capacitors supported storing up energy for emergency burst operations, either extra energy to the boots, the powered armor or to the weapon. I spent nearly a whole day tweaking the weapon energy delivery capillaries to support prompt power delivery.

I closed the shop to new work for almost two weeks while I worked. I reforged the arm plates, making them toughened to all the heat splashing around from a fire sword user, and dealt with any brittleness. Finally, I implanted the crystal processor and made the data connections to the various components, and Captain Hale showed up one morning to do the fitting. 

I was a bit haggard after weeks of work on the job, but this job alone, would pay most of my expenses for my time at Durham Six. The other jobs I'd already completed put me in the black now, even if I left in a few weeks. But I didn't plan on doing that. I might as well complete the six months I'd leased the shop for.

It was this kind of rare job that I traveled for. There wasn't more work needed like what the captain had requested. He might make a third of what the job for the Captain had earned him, doing some work for the sects, but in general he would tap out what work was needed on a planet after 3 to 6 months, and then move on.

Captain Hale's request through the Refiner's Network had been the reason I chose this as my next destination after all. Hale was a veteran, having served as a planetary captain for thirty years.

Sect Elders usually had their own resources for acquiring new suits, and only needed some modifications and rebuilds, and loose cultivators rarely had the money for any extensive work.

I took a couple of days off after doing the final modifications for Hale's suit, so it was by chance that I saw when Talia and the other probationary sect members left the city for the wilds.

I was seated at another of my favorite restaurants, this one offering hearty portion of Tianzhao style cuisine.

"Good luck," I yelled to Talia in the distance. The dozen candidates were being led by a foundation establishment inner sect member, and three full members of the outer sect.

It looked like they had all seen a Spirit Tattooist and received significant combat boosts through that work as well. The artful forms were interesting, a different career where a technically gifted cultivator could assist others. 

The young candidates of the Iron Arm sect had been one source of my business, and with the Captain's work done, I didn't have a lot to do, other than occasional repair work for loose cultivators returning from the wilds.


The piercing sound of the City Alert System woke me up out of a dead sleep. I wasn't sure how many times the alert tone had sounded. It would sound once for each level of a demonic surge.

5th level? 6th level?

I went into my personal quarters, taking out the large box containing my own crystal suit. 

The Hyperion Champion was a well-known medium-heavy suit design. I had replaced nearly every component, making it customized to support a Lightning Axe wielder. 

Picking up the axe, I carried the rest of the components down to the forge to see to last minute adjustments. It had been years since I'd used the suit.

The suit itself seemed to be fine, but the axe had corroded a bit. I quickly cleaned up the axe, and then powered on the core. I didn't have any other medium-large cores in shop, if this one had some troubles, but it seemed to power on. The crystal processor engaged, and a quiet woman's voice read out the details.

Power Core online and nominal
Crystal Processor online and nominal
Capillaries at full function
Armor plates at 0% damage
Power distribution is currently at 40% armor, 40% weapon, 20% movement.


The City Alert tones went out again. A Level 6 wave would be very serious for Durham. 

Then I finally realized. Talia and the others were still out in the wilds. He needed to find out where the surge's epicenter was.

He double checked his weapon and the suit, and then locked up the shop.

The Hyperion storm axe had been customized to suit his preferences, but he would have to refamiliarize himself with everything after so long.

Both Sects were there, next to the parade grounds where the soldiers not on patrol were in formation, waiting for Captain Hale's order to move out. Even though both sect members were seniors of Hale in terms of cultivation, they seemed to understand that Hale was experienced and could run the battle plan.

"Refiner Grady, it's good to see you," said Hale. 

All cultivators within hearing distance were required to respond to an alert tone, but Foundation Establishment cultivators like himself were especially focused on, as he could lead a small unit of soldiers or sect qi condensation juniors.

"Right it looks like you'd match up well with the Thunderous Axe sect, go check in with them."

The Iron Arm elder was obviously agitated about something, probably about the trial team they had sent out into the wilds.

He saw all of the sect members, each holding their thunder axes while the Elder stood in front of them.

"I was talk to report to you guys, Elder."

The man was built like a strongman but he seemed to have seen better days and now found himself behind a desk more often. 

The Elder's Golden Core cultivation pierced through and examined Walter, and then his eyes drifted to the axe. "A bit of an older style axe, junior disciple, although you have not fought many battles lately, have you?"

"It's been years. Silver-Star refiner Walter Grady at your service, senior."

"You've served as well though. Elder Brannock Thorne. Well met."

“Cole. Darren. Liang. You’re with him,” Brannock said, not raising his voice, but the words carried.

The three Qi Condensation juniors approached him.

Cole was a bit unusual in using two axes, while Darren and Liang each used one. 

"I'll lead the way if we encounter more advanced forces, but I need to spent a bit of time getting the rust out, so forgive me if I crush some of the earlier foes while I'm warming up my bones."

"This swarm's already attacking nearby farms and outposts. We march at full speed. Thorne, Marteen, I want a scouting team from each of you, I will have the army scouts lead the way. Thunder Axes on my left, Iron Arms on my right. Those of you who are Foundation Establishment and above, await my signal if we need to form up. If we find any Golden Core equivalent demons, we will need to do so."

Level 6 had a pretty good chance of including demonic beasts and even their demon commanders at that level.

Within the Thunderous Axe Sect formation, we were near the middle, but I knew as we approached we would be split off to cover more ground and deal with outbreaks.

A Level 6 surge often contained within in many lesser waves, like little pinpricks within a massive beam of light.

Elder Thorne must have been mindful of my rust as he had us detach and deal with the first Level 1 Wave we found. We would have to run to catch up to the whole.

The wave was full of something that was a cross between a boar and a rabbit, about the size of dogs actually, and the biggest were almost one hundred pounds.

The first I hit off-center with my axe, but the flesh was peeled off, as I struck at a full late Foundation level of strength against a minor foe.

I quickly adjusted to what level of force was needed with each foe and how to position myself again. The four of us were like a lumberjack team as we quickly learned coordination to cut and hew through everything. The clearing was emptied of the beasts and no more were coming through the conduit.

Four Dimensional conduits were points where the Demonic realms were suddenly made much closer to our realm by a sort of pipe which would appear randomly and spew out monsters, substances and even demonic warriors and soldiers from the other side.

The mathematics of the whole thing was only understood by a few in the dimensional studies departments of universities.

We jogged to rejoin the group, and I was feeling more confident.


Friday, March 6, 2026

Chapter 1, Sword and the Go Stone, v3

Michael retrieved his sword from the luggage compartment as soon as he saw Aesril boarding the transport.

The Sephiroth had arrived on Shinamo specifically for him, though many others boarded there or at later stops. Residents of the Monastery worlds were often curious about the Google UK network. They shared similar values, rejecting the immersive Arcade and MMO VRs popular on the Core Toyota colonies.

Michael had already left behind what little electronics he owned. Google UK allowed none—anywhere, at any time—and Exeter colony was their equivalent of a Monastery world. Probably even stricter.

He stood in stance in the training ring. A simple gi. Sneakers instead of proper shoes.

Years of sword fighting guided his posture more than conscious thought.

“Come,” he said quietly.

Aesril struck immediately.

Steel met steel with a sharp crack. Michael deflected the blow and stepped past her shoulder, circling behind her. She spun to face him, blade flashing as she deflected his probing attacks.

He did not press.

He waited.

She attacked again.

Each strike was quick and skillful, but not as sharp as he remembered. After facing his master’s Rampaging Tiger style, no other attacker truly unsettled him anymore. Even when she chained feints together and shifted her footwork, his own body moved automatically—years of practice guiding his balance and distance.

He leaned aside from another cut.

Then he struck.

Three quick touches.

Three points gone.

The match was over.

They cleaned the blades and returned them to their rack. Aesril leaned against the wall and projected a display across the far side of the training room.

“Grandmaster battles, playlist seventeen,” she said. “I kept collecting them.”

The recording flickered to life.

The camera could barely keep up.

Shin attacked relentlessly, a blur of motion across the ring. Michael defended, retreating and countering wherever an opening appeared.

Even on video it felt overwhelming.

“You developed that defensive style because attacking him was suicide,” Aesril said quietly. “It was beautiful to watch. Why throw it away?”

Michael watched the recording a moment longer.

For seventeen months he had chased that victory.

And then the Compound AI—and Shin himself—had told him the truth.

He would never win.

“I have a new goal now,” Michael said.

He turned away from the screen.

It was time to wield the go stone.

Outside, the Sephiroth settled onto the landing platform.

* * 

Aesril remained aboard the Sephiroth. The transport would continue on to New London, the central world of the Google UK network.

They had already said their goodbyes.

A gentle female voice spoke near his ear.

“Michael M. Hello.”

He looked around, uncertain where the voice came from.

“I am Uno, the Exeter colony AI. You may speak to me anywhere on this colony and I will respond. I can arrange transportation or help you locate whatever you require.”

“Good morning,” Michael said, bowing to someone he could not see.

“You intend to participate in the Exeter Classic. The tournament begins in fourteen days.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed. Speaking to the empty air still felt strange.

“An autocar will arrive shortly to take you to the AI center where my primary hardware resides. Integrity validation is required before participation in any Go competition. Extensive anti-cheating measures will be performed. Do you consent?”

Michael nodded.

“Yes. Whatever you need.”

He wasn’t turning back now. Not after what he had given up.

The car that arrived was black, every window tinted—even the windshield.

Shinamo was so remote that it still had manually operated vehicles. Years earlier, when he lived on Seifer colony, he had taken trains or simply walked everywhere.

This vehicle had no steering wheel. No controls of any kind.

Without electronics, how did anyone even listen to music here?

He closed his eyes as the car accelerated.

“Uno, could you play some music?”

The speakers produced something that sounded like a distant cousin of arcade music. The sharp synthetic rhythm reminded him of the VR arcades he had hated growing up.

For years he had gone without music at all.

Only on Shinamo had he rediscovered it—ancient Japanese pieces played by monks in the monastery halls. Slow, deliberate melodies that suited sword practice perfectly.

He sighed.

“Maybe some Go commentary instead.”

The seat reclined automatically, comfortable without a steering column crowding the space.

A calm broadcast voice filled the cabin.

“Masters League Week Twenty. Region Three is particularly interesting this week. Two players are approaching professional rating. Exeter may see its fourth pro this year, although 2600 remains a long distance from Jin W’s current rating of 2938.”

Another voice replied.

“Marv, did you see the seven-game exhibition between Jin and Sandra?”

“I haven’t yet.”

“Sandra K managed two wins. She’s still improving, bit by bit.”

“I’ll have to catch up. Reviewing all five regions of Masters League has already consumed—”

Uno interrupted.

“We have entered the garage. Please proceed to the elevator.”

The parking structure was mostly empty.

The light poles were spaced far apart, leaving large sections in shadow. Michael crossed the dim concrete floor toward the elevator.

It opened immediately.

Floor –38 was already selected.

The doors closed with a soft click and the elevator dropped quickly.

When the doors opened again, Michael stepped into a quiet room.

A Go board sat alone in the center beside a single chair.

Resting on the board was something like a wire mesh hat.

“Please place the hat on your head,” Uno said. “It is a neural sensory device. Additional sensors will operate non-intrusively.”

The metal mesh felt cold as he lowered it into place.

Two compartments beside the board opened automatically. Black and white stones slid out and settled onto precise points across the board.

Michael stared.

He had expected the pieces to sit inside the squares, but instead they rested at the intersections of the lines.

“This is a position from a professional game of Go,” Uno explained. “From the seven-game series you just heard mentioned.”

Uno began asking questions.

Michael felt completely helpless.

He did not know the rules.

He did not understand the patterns on the board.

Even the questions themselves barely made sense.

At last Uno fell silent.

Several seconds passed.

Finally she spoke again.

“No neural modifications or unlawful advantages detected. Your preliminary rating will be set to 0, Beginner A classification.”

The stones slid away into their compartments.

“I have assigned you to Go Locality #1532. You may enroll in a Quick League. Many residents who focus on other pursuits use Quick Leagues to regain form before the Classic.”

A pause.

“If you register today, you will receive five pairings within the next ten days.”

Michael removed the mesh hat.

“A car is waiting for you on Floor G.”

* *

Michael had always been comfortable sleeping anywhere—bunks, barracks, thin mats on stone floors.

After reaching the top of the Sword Masters’ Challenge he’d finally been given a small private room, but even as a Beginner here he had a far nicer hotel room.

He barely stayed long enough to look at it.

The Go center was only a short walk down the street.

The Localities functioned like Go clubs, though an AI coordinated all of them across the colony. From the outside the building looked about the size of a modest restaurant.

A plaque beside the entrance read:

Locality #1532
(District #103, Region #3)

Beginner A – Beginner B – Beginner C

Two smaller plaques hung beneath it.

Lucas P – Expert H
Top 1000 in Exeter Classic 52

Mariah A – Intermediate G

Michael studied the names for a moment before stepping inside.

The room was filled with Go tables.

It was around lunchtime, but the place was quiet. Only a few players were seated, each alone with their boards.

Maybe they were studying.

At one table sat a child, a girl perhaps eight years old.

Michael approached.

“Are your parents here?” he asked.

She looked up after a moment.

“Oh! Sorry, I was studying a Life and Death puzzle. My dad’s at the restaurant next door.” She tilted her head slightly. “Are you new?”

Her black hair was braided neatly. She wore a simple green dress and black shoes.

She looked almost like the kids back home.

On Shinamo and the other Toyota colonies, people constantly experimented with cosmetic alterations—purple hair, crimson hair, glowing patterns in the skin.

Here everyone seemed... ordinary.

“I just arrived today,” Michael said. “Life and Death puzzle?”

His mind turned the phrase over.

Go players used aggressive language. Almost like sword fighters.

“Oh!” she said brightly. “Want to play a practice game? What’s your rating?”

She grinned.

“I’m Marly.”

She tapped the board and the stones slid neatly back into the troughs on either side.

Michael sat across from her.

“Sure.”

Attack and defense.

Life and death.

The vocabulary alone sounded familiar.

“You want white or black?” Marly asked.

Her smile was completely innocent.

But Michael suddenly understood something.

She wasn’t the prey at the table.

She was the shark.

And he had just stepped into the water.

"I'll take Black"

It seemed like the color of a sword fighter. The go table had a little digital readout, I realized. Next to the trough of black stones there was a timer that read 10 minutes, and started to count down. The other timer stayed at 10 minutes.

He didn't realize what happened next until Marly said something.

"Black goes first," she said, smiling sweetly. I picked up the black stone, and reminded myself to put it on the intersection between lines. I placed it firmly on the intersection in the lower left where there was a little dot. This was a good stance.

 "4-4, that's good you know that much. Dad always told me black plays first in the upper right, but it doesn't matter."

Marly played on another of the little dots, playing on the left side as well.

Michael studied the board.

Her stone stood alone on the far side, claiming ground without resistance.

That felt wrong.

In a duel you never let your opponent stand comfortably.

He placed his second stone near hers.

Not touching.

Close enough to threaten.

"Oh, you're attacking already. Edges first, my dad says."

She played a stone in the top right corner. Michael pondered whether to try to mark all of her stones, or try to press in against the first stone she had played.

He pressed the attack. They continued to play stones back and forth.

One of his stones came under attack.

Michael leaned forward.

Something shifted in his mind.

The stones weren’t stones anymore.

They were fighters.

Marly had swords everywhere.

Each stone stood like a duelist guarding ground.

The fight broke out in the lower left corner.

Marly approached the corner the way a swordsman advanced—blade angled, testing distance. Maybe she was left-handed.

Michael answered instinctively. A sidestep. A counter.

He placed another stone.

She replied immediately.

The board dissolved into movement.

Footwork. Pressure. Blades sliding past each other.

Even though Marly was taking long pauses between moves, Michael saw the exchange as a rapid series of strikes.

He stepped toward the center of the fight, threatening the corner while strengthening his stance.

The fight became close.

Stone by stone.

Attack. Parry. Counter.

The soft, floating strategy Marly had started with vanished.

Now she was defending.

When the exchange ended Michael sat back.

The left side of the board was his.

But when he looked across the rest of the board his confidence faded.

Marly owned the right side completely.

She had quietly secured territory while he fought.

The sword-fighting vision faded.

The board returned to being stones again.

Too many stones.

Too many possibilities.

“I mean, we’re competing,” Marly said kindly, “but I can’t let you reduce your score by playing hopeless moves.”

She had been passing for several turns already.

“Just pass.”

Michael stared at the board a moment longer before placing a stone beside the bowl.

Pass.

The board chimed.

Final score displayed.

Marly had won.

He had fought the battle perfectly, the wrong battle.