She opened a small panel, revealing rune plates inside, linked by golden threads and trembling ether fluid channels. "Every half second, we receive pressure data, crystal wave frequencies, and ether harmonics from the core. This—" her metal finger tapped the inner pipe layer gently, "—is why we don't blow up every two hours."
Zephyr gave a tiny gasp. "I thought all the automation came from this system alone."
"On the contrary," Lhira whispered. "We're just... balancers. Tightrope dancers on the cutting edge. And this optic nerve is the only way we know when the wind shifts."
She closed the panel. "And if this line breaks, or the rune connection glitches..."
"Boom?" Zephyr asked.
Lhira turned. Her smile was slow, slightly tired, yet beautiful in its honesty.
"Boom. But not just any explosion. We're talking an etheric tsunami. Space could melt. Time could crack. So... please don't touch this panel again unless I say so, alright?"
"Here's how you do it," Lhira said, her voice calmer but still cold. "This isn't just about inserting it. It's about connection. You have to bond with the energy inside." She looked at Zephyr, her gaze softening slightly, maybe seeing the confusion and desperation in his eyes. "I know this is new to you. But you have to learn fast. Mistakes here cost lives."
Arin Veyl approached, his smile reassuring. "Lhira's strict, Zephyr. But she knows what she's doing. She's the best at this."
Lhira snorted again but didn't argue. She turned back to check the steam pipes and cables nearby. Zephyr stood awkwardly, still feeling the heat of Lhira's anger.
The desert night wind bit at him, carrying the scent of cooling sand and a faint trace of steam oil. From the metal balcony outside the plant, Zephyr looked at the power tower opposite—two hundred meters away—rising like a metal thorn piercing the night sky. Steam pipes stretched in the air—connecting the Stabilitor building where he stood to the main body of the power tower. Steam hissed from valve joints like an old dragon's sigh.
Lhira stood beside him, wearing brass-rimmed protective goggles pushed up on her forehead. A small plasma lantern hung at her belt, casting a soft orange glow on her angular metal-shadowed face and sharp hazel eyes. The wind blew a strand of golden-brown hair from beneath her cap. She tucked it back with one swift motion.
"Look at the black cylinder at the base of that tower," she said, pointing with an ebonite and bronze-carved baton. "That's the Residu Pulse Converter. The main receiver of all the unstable energy sent from this Stabilitor."
Zephyr squinted, following the copper pipes snaking like mechanical veins, twisting toward the structure.
"After the crystal energy is stabilized here," Lhira continued, "it exits through the ThermoMagnetic Discharge Lines, then gets filtered again inside the Pulse Regulator Array. But..." she stressed, "...without the system here, in Blackstone, that entire tower would explode in twelve minutes."
Zephyr shuddered. Below them, the creak of massive gears began to turn slowly. A tung... tung... tung... sound like an iron heartbeat marked the start of the transfer cycle.
"How is that possible?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the tower.
"Because the Stabilitor is not just a processor. It's an Anchor Node—a rhythmic anchor for the flow of crystal essence. Each crystal has its own vibration. The Stabilitor aligns that vibration through the Resonance Dial Chamber, then sends rhythmic pulses through the Copper Vein Manifold to the tower. Without that rhythm... the generator loses sync."
She tapped the chest plate of her work coat, where a bronze badge marked with the 'Optic-Nerve' symbol was pinned.
"We control the rhythm from here—from inside the NeuroRelay Interface. It's like setting the metronome for the city's heart."
Zephyr drew a deep breath, the scent of metal, oil, and desert wind filling his lungs. Light from the power tower pulsed softly—rhythmic. Synchronized.
Lhira turned, looking at him from behind the glinting foldable goggles.
"Starting tonight, you'll hold one of those pulse channels." She handed him a key shaped like a small crystal rod, etched with micro rune lines on its surface. "This is not just a work tool. It's a flow key. Every operator has one."
Zephyr took it slowly. The crystal pulsed faintly in his hand—like a heartbeat. And for the first time, he felt part of the city's living pulse. Not just a digger. But a keeper of iron and crystal breath.
Lhira placed her palm against the black-blue metal surface, and a ripple of golden light threaded through the veins of the door. A mechanical click followed, then a soft hiss of compressed air. The door opened slowly.
The air inside was colder—and far quieter. The walls were lined with matte metal panels that shimmered faintly under low light, and in the center stood a large, throne-like chair, encircled by rings of metal and looping cables that snaked outward like metallic roots. Tiny lights blinked at the cable ends, like insect eyes that never stopped watching.
"This is the inner control center of the Stabilitor," Lhira said, her voice dropping several octaves. "This place is called the NeuroRelay Interface—also known as the Underground Brain. It's from here that every energy connection flowing through the Pulse Veins is monitored and regulated."
Zephyr stepped forward, eyes sweeping the chamber. On one side of the wall, a holographic map of Akar Vazhryl flickered to life, dotted with glowing points indicating the real-time status of energy lines. A metal panel had been pulled open, revealing the complex inner systems:
NeuroSync Spindle — a vertical shaft that spun silently, regulating the synchronization pattern between crystal energy waves and the mechanical power grid. Its surface was layered with tiny, color-shifting crystals responding to current fluctuations.
Aetherial Relay Node — a vertical capsule terminal threaded with semi-transparent cables pulsing a soft violet hue. It transmitted data from active crystals to the control core, using brain-like wave patterns.
Cerebral Coil Array — thin copper wires hanging like mechanical tentacles from the ceiling, reading rune activity and adjusting voltage per slot in real time.
Sensory Conduit Helm — a metal helmet sheathed in glass lenses, bristling with dozens of fine input cables. This was the direct interface—for operators attuned to rune harmonics.
"Operators here can touch the city's energy flow with their minds," Lhira continued. "Very few can align deeply enough for that. Even those who do still need training… and discipline."
Now he understood completely. Blackstone wasn't just a mining hub. It was a central nervous system—where the raw crystals were sorted, harmonized, and stabilized before their energy was distributed throughout the city via the Pulse Vein system.
Zephyr stared at the helm, holding his breath. Something about the chair—something unseen—vibrated against his skin like a whisper. A calling. Or a warning.
Lhira turned to him, her expression softer now. "You have something in your arm. I don't know what it is, but the system responded to your presence yesterday. There was a strange reading in the Relay. I want to know… if you can hear it."
Zephyr pulled up his sleeve, revealing the black rune embedded in his skin. It pulsed gently—responsive.
"Want to try the helm?" Lhira asked flatly.
The following days at Blackstone Outsourcing blurred into a rhythm both grueling and strangely invigorating. Zephyr trained under Lhira's sharp, unwavering oversight. His hands grew used to the weight and texture of refined crystals. His senses adjusted to the subtle resonance shifts in the Stabilitor machinery. The rune in his arm had grown warmer, more active, occasionally throbbing gently when he handled certain crystal types—as if greeting them.
Lhira Dennias remained harsh but consistent. Her rage when Zephyr misaligned a crystal or mismatched a rune code was as explosive as the devices they handled—but it forced him to sharpen his instincts and act with greater care.
Then the air changed.
Not colder. Not warmer. But electric. Tingling along the nape of his neck.
The technicians—usually talkative—fell silent. No alarms blared, yet everyone knew: something was wrong.
At the center of Station 3, one of the Resonator Slots pulsed with unstable light—throbbing like a heart forced into an unnatural rhythm. The crystal inside—brilliant crimson with spiderweb cracks—trembled faintly. Its codification panel refused to read.
"Shut down Station Three! Now!" shouted one of the operators—an elderly man with round goggles glowing green.
Too late.
A crimson bolt lashed out, ripping through the base of the panel and setting fire to the nearby Pulse Vein cables. Two technicians were flung backward. The floor shuddered beneath the impact.
Zephyr didn't think—he ran.
"Zephyr! Don't—!" Lhira's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and desperate, but it was swallowed by the roar of untethered energy.
He raised his hand.
He channeled the Pulse Vein toward another point—the crystal-he touched it without casing.
The rune within the vein was no longer subtle. It flared—blinding—casting a white-blue glow that laced down his arm like a second bloodstream. The crystal's heat slammed into him like a furnace wind, but he stood firm.
Something between him and the crystal… responded.
Not warmth.
Not trust.
But recognition.
His fingers touched the steel conductor along the slot's edge. Instantly, the runes in his arm shifted—rewriting themselves, reshaping into new forms that matched the crystal's violent frequency. He had no idea how he knew the pattern, but something deep within him… responded.
It rewrote the synchronization pathway by force.
A forbidden instinct, carved in the shape of light.
The crystal screamed.
Not a sound, but a pressure—like the world itself throbbing at a frequency too high to hear, yet too real not to feel in his spine.
Zephyr focused all his will.
"Easy... I hear you. I... grant you tethering."
In a single breath, he placed both hands on the edges of the slot. His runes ignited at full brightness. The Codification Panel that had previously remained blank began blinking rapidly… then stopped. Forced synchronization.
The crystal locked into place.
The wild surge died down. Stabilitor lights flicked back to steady amber. The Pulse Vein pulsed normally again. And Zephyr collapsed to his knees.
Lhira was the first to reach him, her face pale.
"You're insane... you did a direct Imprint on a rogue crystal... without an assist device."
She stared at him as if she'd glimpsed a ghost or a god—something impossible, something terrifying.
Arin jogged up behind, eyes wide.
"He... he just performed an Absorbed Synchronik. No NeuroRelay. No Refractor Helm. Just... his body."
Lhira slowly straightened. Her goggles slipped low on her nose, voice low but stripped of anger or awe—only an unsettling neutrality.
"Tomorrow... you're coming with me. Level Six. NeuroRelay Interface."
Zephyr could only nod, breath ragged. Deep inside, the runes beneath his skin still glowed faintly—like they'd tasted something far bigger than him and wanted more.
Their footsteps echoed softly through the narrow corridor, walls plated in matte steel, webbed in thin cables that crawled upward like metal roots converging in thick bundles overhead. Pale blue light pulsed inside semi-transparent conduits, alive like blood in arteries.