“It has been roughly six thousand, eight hundred years since the creation of the beacons with the assistance of the Creator itself, as well as the incident historians refer to as the sundering. When the unholy creatures called the corruptors laid siege to civilized life as a whole and sundered the empire of those who came before us. From what records have told us, the purpose of the beacons was to allow us mortals to gain levels of power both higher and faster than what was previously attainable. With that said, why is it we are failing? Why is it to this day we as mortals have yet to even so much as leave a scratch upon the bodies of the corruptors? Why is it we have yet to slay a single one of their champions, the dreaded apocalypse beast. If the beacons made us so much better than those who came before, why are we so lacking?”
~King Kethran Bailgrice, King of Turan year 6873 A.S.
Alistair stared at the alien looking pod with some trepidation and asked himself if he was truly about to go ahead with this insane plan. He didn’t know anything about its functions other than what the orb, or The Guardian Will as it referred to itself, had explained to him. Which also reminded him that as far as he could tell, the orb could have been lying to him this entire time, about everything. Yet there was the part of him that did trust it, that part of him that had heard that same tone of voice in those who had given up.
“If you do not wish to take the risk you do not have to force yourself. I may be able to utilize what power that remains to open a way out for you” the orb said but Alistair was already shaking his head.
“This is the best chance we got of both of us making it out of here alive, if that means I just have to beat some odds, then fuck it” he replied over his shoulder, “Besides, no one deserves to die alone, and especially not a soldier”
So far the orb has told him things that by all rights should have been impossible, from being essentially transported to another world to other worldly beings who were essentially the fundamental forces of reality as a whole but self aware. He still had some issues trying to wrap his head around that last part. Yet there was one thing he was absolutely sure about, the sentience that was the orb had given up on life and was little more than a husk waiting for the end.
His time out on deployment while in the army had him becoming unfortunately familiar with it. War had a funny way of doing that to the people caught up in it, the bystanders who were forced to watch as their homes and way of life was reduced to nothing more than shrapnel and ash. It had a way of taking the soldiers who spoke of nothing but hope and joy, and reducing them to a crippled mess, forever needing someone else to take them.
Alistair could practically feel that same emotion emanating from the orb with such intensity it made him want to just sit down and never move again. He refused to let another being, whether they be made of flesh or a crystal ball, suffer that fate. So when he learned there was a solution to not only save him from dying alone in an underground facility, but to also bring the orb with him, he jumped at the chance. However he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit there was that small paranoid side of him that was not thrilled about being subject to what was literally an experimental procedure created only god knows how long ago and abandoned.
Despite the risks involved, if it worked it could provide him the means that would save both of them. When your only other option was to slowly bleed out with nothing but a depressed crystal ball for company, Alistair figured the risks were well worth it. His pride would not allow him to take the cowards way and leave the orb behind.
“Whenever you are ready to begin, I shall initiate the start up procedure” the orb announced, pulling Alistair from his thoughts.
“Lets get this thing started before I can change my mind” Alistair responded only slightly woozy then added, “I don’t have much longer before I pass out anyways”
Very well Mr. Grant, Activating prototype 437-SMH.”
Without further conversation, a sound similar to that of a jet engine powering filled the room. The noise shifted into more of a deep hum as cables all along began to light up with a pale blue, nearly white glow. More sections of the large pod began to glow that same color as the entire front half split apart and slid open. The inside of the pod looked even more intimidating than the outside, random spots inside also glowing.
He could see at least a dozen mechanical arms folded up along the top with smaller ones at the sides and back. There was a clear indication of where he should stand in the form of two feet shaped groves in the bottom, which he stepped into after taking a painful deep breath. As soon as he did he cursed and instantly wanted to leave the pod as it slid shut and sealed with a hiss of air. If not for the random sections glowing that same odd pale blue, he knew it would have been pitch black inside.
“Fuck me” he swore when as one the arms within the pod moved, with even the floor opening open to produce more.
His swearing continued as the majority of the arms clamped down into him all over his body, from his ankles all the way to one wrapped around the top of his head. The grip wasn’t painful but he couldn’t move, at all with the only parts of him spared being his fingers and eyes. The worst part was they proceeded to pull his arms up above his head drawing out of him a follow up string of swears as it sent flares of agony from his side. His colorful language only paused when a voice different from the orbs filled the pod.
The voice was obviously feminine in nature but Alistair couldn’t understand a word that she was saying. A separate arm extended down and aimed at his face, a cone of light emitting from it before slowly circling his head until it was back around to his face. Once there, the light narrowed into a focused beam that pierced right into his eyes. To his extreme annoyance the light began to pulse in various rhythms causing his eyes to water. More words were spoken in that unfamiliar language but in short bursts, until to his surprise he began to understand them.
“Vocal calibration” he heard it say, the rest still unfamiliar. The flashing light kept up its random patterns and colors and the voice kept speaking, more and more of what it was saying becoming understandable.
“Vocal calibration at… Vocal calibration at sixty… Vocal calibration at eighty percent...Vocal calibration at one hundred percent completion. Primelorn standard language successfully integrated. Stand by for a thorough full body deep scan. Scanning in 3, 2, 1.” The voice announced and all he could do was blink in astonishment.
As the pod spoke, he knew it wasn’t just suddenly speaking perfect English to him, but instead he now understood its language just as well as he did English. Did this pod just literally download a new and probably lost language directly into his head? Based on what it had said that was his best theory, one he couldn’t help but feel giddy at. One of his old army buddies treated learning new languages as a hobby to the degree the guy spoke nearly a dozen of them. Alistair could already imagine the look on Danny’s face if he ever got the chance to tell him he was taught an entire language in the span of a few minutes.
As amusing as the whole thing was, his attention was pulled to the four arms that slowly circled him while shining a different light on him. As they circled they made their way down his entire body, but stopped upon reaching the wound on his side, one of the arms lights flashing an angry red.
“Caution, physical distortion detected. Distortion detected as bodily injury. Calculating appropriate response. Stand by.” The voice sounded out and he couldn’t help but feel worried. If his wound kept him from proceeding, he was pretty much guaranteed to die in this room. If not for the numerous mechanical arms holding him in place, he probably would have collapsed by now.
“Solution, Full restoration proposed. Solution Denied, insufficient power. Solution, Regeneration proposed. Solution denied, power reserves below optimal levels.” The pod said which only served to increase his worry levels. If this thing denied every solution it proposed, well he didn’t honestly know what he would do besides throw some more swears at it.
“Solution, Flesh mend proposed. Solution denied, power reserves below optimal levels. Solution, Direct sutures proposed. Solution accepted.” The pod stated in its robotic feminine voice to which Alistair let out a sigh of relief, until it continued speaking. “Warning. Anesthetic currently unavailable. User consent required in order to proceed.”
Alistair groaned and would have facepalmed in frustration if he could move, instead he gave his answer, “Consider my consent given, just fix this dam hole in my side”
“Consent verified. Commencing operation.”
He grit his teeth as a few more of the smaller arms extended out to his side and with no warning plunged small needle like extensions into his wound.
“FUCK!” he cried out through clenched teeth, afraid they might crack from the force. The pod was not holding back or wasting time as the needle fingers moved around inside him. He saw a flash of white as a spike of agony flared followed by a click announcing his rib being forcefully moved back into place.
Alistair found himself feeling grateful for the fact the pod held him in place as securely as it did, because if it hadn’t, he would be thrashing around and trying to tear the arms off the wall. Thankfully they moved quickly and efficiently, the searing pain being reduced to a throbbing ache as they withdrew from his side, stitching his flesh together as they moved.
A final pulse of pain as the outside of the wound was seared shut, and the arms completely retracted back into the walls of the pod. Even if the rest of the process didn’t work, he at least no longer had to worry about bleeding to death anytime soon.
“Physical distortion removed. Continuing scan” the voice said and the circling arms continued their path down and around. Once they reached his feet the arms reversed their pace and circled back around moving upwards this time.
“Scan complete. Results, 68.35 percent chance for complete procedure success rate. 19.79 percent chance for a 90 percent procedure success rate. 4.61 percent chance for 65 percent procedure success rate. 4.13 percent chance for 50 percent procedure success rate. 3.12 percent chance for complete procedure failure.” The pod announced in that same monotone voice
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Oh come the fuck on, I could have died happy not knowing that” He stated doing his best to glare at the pod.
“Commencing with S.M.H procedure.” was the reply he received, but before he could give his own rebuttal, every arm that wasn’t being used to hold him moved to various spots around his torso. As one they each produced a thin, brilliant white needle that lit up the pod even further from the light coming off them.
Alistair had barely gotten a second to look at the needles before they were all plunged straight into him. He screamed a soundless scream, his vision going white from the sheer agony that engulfed his torso. He could barely think, barely remember where he was or understand what was happening to him. His mind was consumed by the agony as it felt as if his very soul was being torn and twisted, reshaped to fit, something.
The arms themselves remained motionless, but he could feel the needles, he could feel them squirming and digging around moving things they should not be moving. Alistair could feel them squirm around his chest, like molten hot worms that only sought to go deeper within him. They reached their goal, touching something inside of him that he knew on a fundamental level should not be touched. Everything went dark and he embraced the blissful void that was unconsciousness with open arms.
Just as quickly as he was pushed down, he was violently yanked back into full awareness gasping for air. The needles were withdrawing from his torso, much of their previous glow faded to the degree they looked like normal tarnished needles. The moment the last needle left his skin, all the pain vanished to be replaced by a bone deep weariness and chill.
He wanted to shiver from the cold but was still being held in place, however much to his relief the cold was swiftly fading until all he felt was an ache. That feeling of wrongness, that he had been violated somehow still remained, but that too was fading, if much slower. Those same arms that had scanned him the first time came back down and did one more sweep over his whole body.
“S.M.H procedure complete. Spiritual configuration successful. User spiritual stability at 94.2 percent. No further degradation detected. 2nd tier spirit restoration recommended for further recovery.” The pod announced.
Alistair barely heard the words said but understood the gist, it had worked but it wasn’t a flawless operation. He had no idea what it meant by 2nd tier spirit restoration but he figured the orb would know. Speaking of which, he wondered when the pod would release him so he could… Before he even finished the thought, every clamp holding him released at the same time, which resulted in him collapsing in a heap at the bottom.
“Fuck you” he groaned while slowly bringing himself up to a sitting position.
A hiss of air greeted him in the face as the front of the pod slid open to reveal a sight that sobered him up quickly. The room was lit up a good deal more than before, however that was due to the multiple broken cables that were currently throwing sparks. Others were revealed to actually be tubes as that pale blue glow was revealed to be a partially thick liquid that was currently leaking from a good number of them.
What concerned him the most was the pedestal and the orb, with the former looking singed, its own sparks being produced. The orb had a crack running diagonal across it, the lines of symbols glitching and shuddering as they tried to move past it.
“What happened!” he called out weakly as he scrambled to his feet and nearly fell over twice from the weakness he still felt.
“Cables...overloaded. Procedure...going to...fail.” the orb explained, its voice distorted and broken up, sounding like it was coming from a broken and static filled radio. “Used...myself as...conduit. Core...damaged...fading”
Alistair was able to piece together a decent idea of what the orb was saying, and he guessed that some of the cables to the pod had broken during the process. Seeing that that lack of power would result in the procedure's failure, the orb used itself, or at least its own power source to keep the pod running. Unfortunately, that resulted in the orb sustaining what looked like fatal damage that it would soon succumb too.
That was something he absolutely refused to allow, this orb, whatever it was, willingly risked its life to ensure he survived and completed the pods procedure. What kind of soldier would he be if he allowed it to die, allowed his comrade to perish. With renewed strength and determination burning inside of him, Alistair lunged towards the orb ignoring the cable that whipped past him. Reaching the orb he slapped both hands down onto it, and nothing happened.
“How do I use this thing!” he called out half demanding, half panicked
“Will...absorb...consent” the orb answered, sounding weaker with each word, its inner light fading.
He was confused at first but decided to just take the words as literal as possible, and willed himself to absorb whatever was in the orb that made it alive. Instantly he felt a connection, something within his chest reaching out to grasp at something inside the orb. Instinctively he understood that whatever he grabbed could easily resist the pull, but it too reached out and clasped onto him like a man drowning. With a mental heave and an effort of will, he began to pull it inside of his chest.
To his surprise, he watched all the shifting lines of odd symbols freeze in place, their ever present movements coming to a dead halt. The moment he started to pull on that connection, they began to move again but this time in a swirl leading to where his hands were placed on the orb. He wanted to laugh at the feeling of energy and power coursing through his palms, down his arms and deep into his chest, but he stayed focused on the task afraid any deviation in concentration could interrupt it.
He ignored everything around him, the sparking cables, the glowing liquid and even the pod's voice announcing warnings about power. He pushed it all to the back of his mind while he focused on absorbing the orbs contents, not letting himself become distracted. It wasn’t until he had but a fraction of the lines left on the orb that swirled to his palms that he allowed himself to look away, and his eyes went wide as instincts bellowed for him to move.
A high-pitched whine of energy surrounded the area as light spilled from the crack that ran across the orbs surface. His body moved without thinking, instincts and muscle memory taking command over his body urging him to get away. His right hand left the orb's surface as he turned, his left hand still touching the orb as he took a single step away. Everything felt slow, like his body was trying to sprint through a pool of honey but all he did was push harder. All he knew in that moment was he needed to get away; he needed as much distance from the orb as he could possibly gain.
The sharp crack of shattering glass was his only warning, the only sign he received that he was too late. His vision went white, except this time it wasn’t from pain, it was from the explosion of energy going off right behind him. Pressure slammed into him from the left and behind bringing with it searing agony, objects collided with his body as he felt the ground disappear out from underneath him. “Shit” was the final thing that flashed through his mind before everything went dark.
The being, or perhaps the consciousness known as the guardian will of the hidden facility XA30N5, that had resided inside of its crystal prison for who knows how long, had indeed given up. Yet hope had blossomed inside, a hope they had dared not feel for countless centuries in fear it would be crushed. That hope had been the outworlder named Alistair Grant, the outworlder who was now laying crumpled and mangled against the pod.
From the moment their sensors had picked up a living being pounding and yelling on the other side of the security door, they had been suppressing that faint spark of hope that desperately tried to ignite. Yet no matter how hard they tried, they could do nothing to stop it from blazing into an inferno. For the first time since the death of their people, since the death of their empire, freedom was within their grasp. Not only that, but freedom at the hands of an outworlder.
Now this same outworlder, the one who called himself Alistair Grant was mere moments away from death after risking everything in his attempt to save them both. He had known the risks, had been warned that not only was the procedure still a prototype, but had been sitting dormant for thousands of years without a speck of maintenance done to it. Yet when he emerged from that pod and bore witness to the damage done, the backlash the system had suffered, Alistair Grant failed to hesitate for even a single heartbeat. Instead, he used what strength he had to try and save the Guardian Will when he could have easily sought out cover.
Every part of the Guardian Will had wanted to urge Alistair Grant to run, to seek safety behind something, but when they felt that pull, they couldn’t resist and leapt at the chance. The feeling they gained from finally being free of that accursed orb was pure and utter bliss. Bliss that was quickly shattered along with the core of his prison. For a single fraction of a heartbeat, despair clawed its way back to the forefront of their mind only to be shoved back down as they drew upon every ounce of processing power they could sustain.
Time slowed to a crawl as they worked through calculation after calculation on trying to figure out a solution to save Alistair Grant. They observed in dismay as shrapnel and pure force tore through the man's body, taking off the pieces that were closest first. However, they only added each injury to their calculations, even as the wounds climbed at an alarming rate.
Thousands of calculations and simulations came and went for every moment that passed, yet every failure that was predicted only spurred them on even more. However, a single simulation was used in order to figure out why the guardian will still maintain their access to the facility's inner system. The solution was determined to be a small fraction of their being was still located within the core, which was currently in the process of burying itself into the chest cavity of Alistair Grant.
They were quickly running out of time to come up with a solution that would not only result in the man being alive, but capable of leaving the facility under his own strength. A minor sense of relief was felt as Alistair Grant eventually came to rest at the foot of the pod, the boon of this being no more injuries were being accumulated. A final heartbeat of calculations was performed and the Guardian Will had a solution they believed was the best option to save Alistair Grant's life, even if the man was not pleased about the results.
They knew this was going to be close as granting Alistair Grant the SMH had drained the facilities reserves considerably, but they were confident there was enough to at least prioritize Alistair Grant living. The Guardian Will flexed their authority over the facility and activated the ELP, power surging throughout the room as a soft green dome of light enveloped the mangled, barely alive form laying at the foot of the pod. Panels along the floor and roof slid open, long cablelike arms in the dozens emerging and reaching for the man.
“Emergency Lazarus Protocol initiated” The facilities monotone voice of the facility founder announced, “Scanning injuries, Complete. Cataloging nearby materials, Complete. Calculating appropriate procedure, Complete. Calculating sufficiency of materials, Complete. Materials deemed more than sufficient. Commencing repairs.”
The arms had stopped when the facility had spoken but now blurred into action as some moved to Alistair Grant's form, carefully rearranging him and removing parts deemed too damaged to be repaired. All the other arms began to strip apart the pod with the speed and efficiency of an entire team of researchers, and not just the pod, everything but the arms themselves were being stripped down. Two of the arms grew thicker and proceeded to suction up all the glowing fluid that had spilled out while others pulled tubing and cabling from the ceiling.
The Guardian Will wanted to flinch as they watched something that took the researchers decades to build be dismantled in only a handful of moments but knew it was necessary to save Alistair Grant's life. Nothing was spared either, components they knew to be beyond monetary value were stripped apart and added to the pile of materials to be used. Meanwhile the opposite was being done to Alistair Grant’s body, pieces and parts deemed too damaged were cut away and removed but put to use as they were broken down to use as fuel for the process.
More than once the Guardian Will was forced to step in and redirect repair efforts to priorities long term function over aesthetics. Only when they were completely confident that Alistair Grant would remain alive did they turn the energy expenditure to making the repairs look more functional, yet even that had to be monitored. They were running so low on power it would be any moment before their facility had been wrung dry, so they at least made sure everything looked even and balanced.
With a final wield on a joint, the arms had barely begun to move to a different spot on the body, when everything went dark. There hadn't been even so much as a flicker of warning before the last drop of power was used. The Guardian Will lost their connection to the facility, and they couldn’t have been happy. Some would say they had traded one prison for another, but they didn’t mind. They were at least happy that this one could move around and talk to them, allow them to travel the world once more and see everything that had changed over the years. All they had to do was wait for him to wake up, which was fine, they were used to waiting.
