Chapter 387: Shifts in the World-Logic
Sophia spent three cycles in the free dormitory of the Relief Station.
During these three days, she executed three primary subroutines: Sustenance,
Sleep-mode, and Intelligence Gathering.
The sustenance component significantly exceeded her initial projections. The
quality of the rations provided by the Relief Station was superior even to the
high-tier offerings she had consumed within her Divine Realm during her peak
duration.
It wasn't that the food was opulent; rather, the variety was extensive, the
nutritional balance was optimized, and the flavor parameters were within normal
ranges. On the first cycle, she consumed toasted bread with mushroom soup—the
bread was warm, and the soup contained actual biological mushrooms. On the
second, it was meat porridge and pickled vegetables; the meat was genuine
protein, not the unidentified powdered filler common among the lower-tier masses
of the Old Era. The third cycle was even more anomalous: they distributed fruit.
A mere relief station, providing fruit to the vagrant demographic.
Sophia sat in the dining hall, biting into an apple. The internal shock she felt
was greater than when she had first audited the skyscrapers. In the archaic
Lostarn Realm, let alone vagrants, even mid-tier clerics of the Theocracy rarely
processed fresh fruit more than a few times a year.
"Hey, sister. The apple has a high crispness rating, doesn't it?"
Sitting beside her was an elderly Orc. His fur was grey-white, he wore an
eye-patch over his left socket, and he was noisily processing a bowl of
porridge.
Sophia swallowed the term "sister" along with a piece of apple. "Mhm.
Acceptable."
"Empire assets are simply better," the Orc said, finishing his meal and wiping
his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're a new manifestation, right? Your
facial data isn't in my local archive."
"Newly arrived," Sophia replied.
"Origin?"
"A distant sector."
The Orc let out a low chuckle, choosing not to probe the variable further. "We
get plenty of 'Distant Variables' here. Last month, a batch manifested from the
Eldritch Realm. Those units were just like you—looking at every piece of
infrastructure as if it were a Legendary-tier drop."
Sophia's ears perked up. "The Eldritch Realm?"
"Another plane," the Orc said casually, using a term that, in Sophia's mind,
should have carried massive ontological weight. "The Empire has established
stable links with several planes now. Haven't you audited the news?"
"I lack the data."
"Then you must visit the Transit Hub," the Orc said, standing to return his bowl
to the recycling station. "That place… gah. I've functioned for over sixty
years, and I've never seen anything so magnificent. A cluster of islands
suspended in the atmosphere, linked by mana-bridges. It has everything."
He paused before exiting, casting a look back at Sophia. "Girl, do you possess
identification credentials?"
"Negative."
"Initialize the registration immediately. Without an Imperial ID, your access to
most city-sectors will be restricted. The Town Hall is on West Street. The
process is free of charge."
The Orc exited. Sophia took another bite of her apple and added "ID
Registration" to her prioritized task list.
Her power restoration was proceeding at an agonizingly slow frequency. After
three cycles, her singular "candle" of divinity had merely doubled. By the
standards of a God, this amount of Od was a statistical zero. By the standards
of this world's mortals, she was approximately a Tier-2 Mage.
A Tier-2 Mage.
Sophia offered a cynical smile. During her apotheosis, a single sneeze could
have liquidated an entire metropolis. Now, she was a Tier-2 variable.
However, this wasn't entirely a "Negative Outcome." A Tier-2 Mage wasn't
particularly conspicuous in this world. During her three-day audit of the town,
she observed that Tier-2 and Tier-3 magic users were everywhere. She even saw a
shopkeeper casually manifest a Tier-4 Preservation Spell to keep his inventory
fresh.
The global power-floor of this plane was significantly higher than in the Old
Era.
Sophia discarded her apple core into a waste receptacle and headed out. Today's
roadmap: Town Hall for ID registration, then the Library.
The Orlando Town Library was a part of the Empire's Unified Cultural
Infrastructure Project, open to the public without a fee. Sophia had visited on
day one, but she had only performed a shallow scan of the history section.
Today, she intended to perform a deep audit of the finer details.
The registration process at the Town Hall was startlingly efficient. She filled
out a form and sat for a "Capture Protocol"—using a device she didn't recognize
that mapped her visual data in an instant. Within ten minutes, a reinforced card
was manifested.
The card displayed her photo. NAME: SOPHY RACE: HUMAN AGE: 25 ORIGIN:
UNCONFIRMED
The clerk explained that "Afar" was not a valid geographical parameter in the
database, so while she could register, her origin would remain "Unconfirmed."
This did not affect her citizen-rights.
Sophia looked at the card. As of today, she was Citizen Sophy of the Evernight
Empire. A Goddess of Time, officially naturalized as a twenty-five-year-old
human vagrant. If her fallen colleagues could see this, they would likely
trigger a laughter-induced logic error.
The library was a three-story stone structure in the town center. Two stone
statues of Skeletons flanked the entrance, each holding an open stone book. The
craftsmanship was unexpectedly refined.
Sophia navigated to the depths of the History Section and began a systematic
read. She spent the entire afternoon auditing the records of the Old Era. The
data left her with a complex emotional "Sub-routine."
The "Liquidating of the Lostarn Faith" occupied significant space in the
textbooks. They described in detail how the Theocracy utilized "Faith" to
control the populace, exploit resources, and initialize religious wars.
"The core doctrine of the Lostarn Faith was fundamentally a psychological
control mechanism based on the threat of Divine Punishment. Its objective was
not to guide the populace toward enlightenment, but to ensure the absolute
hegemony of the clerical caste."
Sophia read the passage twice.
Psychological control.
Her original intent for establishing the faith hadn't been "Compassion." Gods
required Faith; Faith generated the power to maintain a Godhead. It was a
transaction. She provided protection; the mortals provided Od. As for how the
Theocracy eventually corrupted the system into a tool for exploitation...
"That was indeed a Logic Error in the implementation," Sophia murmured.
She pulled another book: [THE POLITICAL ARCHITECTURE OF THE EVERNIGHT EMPIRE].
The ruling structure was unlike any system in her archives. SUPREME COMMAND: THE
SOVEREIGN. ADMINISTRATIVE LAYER: THE GENERALS (SINS). OPERATIONAL LAYER:
ADJUTANTS. FOUNDATION: AN INTEGRATED MIX OF HUMANS, UNDEAD, ELVES, DWARVES, AND
ORCS.
No aristocracy. No hereditary succession. No Church. Vocation assignments were
based on "Competence Parameters," not bloodline protocols.
Sophia closed the book and leaned back.
Fine. She admitted it. This Evernight Empire was significantly more efficient
than her era of the Lostarn Faith. At least in the dimension of "Quality of Life
for the Grassroots Masses," she had been utterly defeated. This
Sovereign—whoever he was—possessed genuine administrative talent.
As the library's operational hours reached their limit, Sophia looked up. The
sky outside had darkened. The Evernight Lights were flickering to life,
illuminating the streets with a warm glow. She returned her books to the shelf
and headed for the exit.
At the front desk, the administrator stopped her. "Citizen, do you intend to
manifest here tomorrow?"
The administrator was a young Elf. He likely assumed she was a student from the
local branch of the Evernight Academy.
"Mhm. I intend to return."
"Excellent. There is a lecture in the second-floor reading room tomorrow
regarding 'The Cross-Planar Diplomatic Protocols of the Empire'. If your
interest parameters align, I recommend attending."
Sophia's gait paused. Cross-planar diplomacy.
"State the manifestation time."
"10:00 AM."
"Acknowledged. I will attend."
Walking back to the Relief Station, the night wind brushed against her face,
carrying a slight chill. She watched the shops terminate their operations.
Footsteps of Skeleton patrols echoed in the distance.
A profound sense of absurdity washed over her. She was the architect of this
land. Lostarn—the continent's name was derived from her own. In the Divine
Language, it meant "The Gift of Time."
Now, she was a vagrant with a temporary ID, living in a free shelter, eating
free Imperial rations, and reading about how her own religion was a "Malignant
Tumor" in an Imperial library.
The irony is red-lining, she thought.
Yet, she felt zero genuine rage. Perhaps because she had seen the "Happiness"
metrics of the citizens. She passed an alley and saw a window glowing with warm
light; laughter and the sound of dining utensils drifted out. A family sharing a
meal. She passed a corner and saw a human and an Orc sitting on a bench, sharing
a bottle of wine and conversing with high synchronization.
A few steps further, she saw a notice posted on a wall.
[RECRUITMENT NOTICE: EVERNIGHT TRANSIT HUB. SEEKING STAFF OF ALL SPECIES.
COMPETITIVE COMPENSATION. INQUIRE AT THE STATE ARMY GARRISON.]
Sophia stared at the notice. A new strategy manifested in her processors.
Perhaps "Laying Low" didn't require hiding in a dark corner. Perhaps she could
integrate into the Empire as a regular unit—restoring her power while auditing
the system from within. After all, she was currently a Tier-2 variable. In a
world full of Tier-2s and 3s, she was statistically invisible.
Sophia archived the notice and turned toward the shelter. Halfway there, she
stopped. On a streetlight pillar was a fresh notice, the ink barely dry.
[NOTICE: THE IMPERIAL ENERGY MONITORING SYSTEM HAS DETECTED AN ANOMALOUS
FLUCTUATION. THE ARCANE LEGION IS CURRENTLY CONDUCTING A SWEEP. CITIZENS ARE
ADVISED TO MAINTAIN NORMAL ROUTINES. REPORT SUSPICIOUS ENERGY SOURCES TO THE
NEAREST PUNISHMENT LEGION POST.]
Sophia's heart rate spiked. Anomalous fluctuation.
Could it be… her awakening? The micro-second of energy she had leaked when she
first initialized?
She lowered her head and accelerated her pace toward the Relief Station.
Have I been flagged? No, likely not. If they had localized her, the Legion would
have manifested at her door already. But they were aware. They knew something
had woken up; they simply lacked the coordinates.
Sophia returned to her bunk and stared at the ceiling. Her palms were damp. The
Empire's monitoring capability was higher than she had simulated. She had leaked
energy for less than a second, and they had captured the wave-form.
Gou. (Lay Low). She had to be more thorough.
From this moment on, zero power fluctuations were permitted. She closed her eyes
and compressed her remaining Od to the terminal threshold, burying it in the
deepest layers of her soul. She would utilize her human avatar as a total
shroud, masquerading as a baseline civilian.
She turned over, pulling the blanket to her head.
Tomorrow: the lecture on cross-planar diplomacy.
And she would also audit that job posting. She wanted to see exactly how
"Competitive" the compensation really was.
Logistics: Secured. Protocol: Integration.