The trial of Prime Magister Wonderweiss, for the crime of being a secretive, maybe war-mongering prick, was moved to the laboratory's bar by a decision of Pioneer Edgar Shin.
It was a space where seedy nostalgia met automated luxury: classical wooden furnishings contrasted with silent conveyor belts delivering drinks and hidden cooling systems. The prosecution consisted of three angry women—reminiscent of those shrieking wine aunts from Wonderweiss's childhood—nestled in a hollow lounge offering perfect views of Leviathan Nest's bay whenever the tower's shell unfurled. Like grim tidings, their shadows blocked the sunlight from comforting the old man.
Without it, Wonderweiss had only the memory foam composite seat for solace: that, and the wheelchair-bound Pioneer acting as his unlikely defender.
Meanwhile, four men who wanted nothing to do with this impromptu court ordered drinks from Artemis, the research AI with a bartending hobby stationed in the room's corner. They'd declined jury duty in favor of turning the confrontation into a drinking game, each writing down rules before settling in to watch the show.
Vienna struck first. "You never mentioned the Landia situation."
"Would you sleep better knowing you'd face your best friend's children?" Wonderweiss countered.
"Hold up." Thessa stepped forward, emerald eyes flashing. "That's my home you're discussing. Shouldn't I have a say?"
Eleanor remained silent. Her hero worship for Vienna warred with her desire to see Wonderweiss thrown from the window. Into this tense silence, Edgar intervened—partly because tormenting the old man was his exclusive right, partly because having the Prime Magister in his debt would be a delicious supplement for his mental health.
"Let's hear him out," Edgar said, flashing a toothy grin that promised this defense wouldn't come cheap. "We caught this early enough to fix it."
Vienna growled.
The defendant gazed back at his sadistic lawyer, recognizing in the Communicator's wide grin that the price for this favor would be exorbitant.
"Where should I start?" Wonderweiss asked, shoulders sagging under the weight of his prosecution.
"The beginning," Eleanor demanded.
The old man flicked a switch, summoning a holographic projection of Omicron. "Very well. Let's start with why this planet was never terraformed."
Out of the three, it was Thessa who spoke. "I heard Vichaya had plans, but that jackass got his leg rammed down his throat by Millennium. As a result, many Cradle Planets like Omicron were left untouched."
The Prime Magister's eyes twitched at the mention of his old friend's gruesome death. "Yes, that is history as recorded. Vichaya's original plan was conquering all 600 Cradle Planets on the Rift Compass and using them as a base to spread humanity across the cosmos."
Edgar leaned forward. "And because you never asked for their opinion, those events ended with that asshole dying and Millennium exploding into a demon-spawning hole in space-time. What a way to screw up, old man."
"'Screw up' implies a mistake," Thessa added. "I call it karmic consequence."
The four men at the counter exchanged knowing looks and took their first sip of Wonderweiss's pomegranate wine. Baldwin's rule about Vichaya-dunking had paid off quickly.
"Moving on," the Prime Magister continued, trying not to let the Keeper's taunt get under his skin. "Vichaya's death and the First Millennium Entropy War allowed a faction which had broken off beforehand to gain prominence" — he paused — "Luna."
Vienna sat nearby. "I know that, old man. I was there when it happened, but what I don't know is why those guys are a problem."
"Because we're right on their sole Rift Line to High Terraria." The Wizard zoomed out his holographic display to show the Rift Compass mapping; the screen revealed a large swath of territory called the 'Fae Garden' highlighted in green, with a dot labeled 'Omicron' at its perimeter.
Edgar observed and grimaced as his injury flared from stress. "That's smack right on their border."
"Hey," Eleanor turned toward the blonde Fae, who hung by her side slack-jawed and stunned. "Isn't Thessa supposed to know about this? She is supposed to be their Keeper."
The Keeper sank into the lounge chair as months of oversight crashed into focus. She hid her face. The truth was both embarrassing and simple: between Alpha's defeat, establishing a settlement, and daily crises, those intricacies had slipped through her mind.
The four men observed this and took another shot per Machin's rule: Thessa will act immature.
"Thessa," Edgar's tone turned uncharacteristically scary. "Care to explain?"
"Look, it's—"
"I have visited the Fae Garden before," Vienna cut in, stealing the young maiden's chance to explain herself. "Fae Garden is a trans-dimensional anomaly, only accessible through a few points in the Rift Lines. Omicron is one such opening, and the Landia clan is responsible for its defense."
All attention turned to the Landia girl fiddling with her fingers. The four men in the back nodded and downed another sip. Machin, despite his proud Dwarf heritage, couldn't take the liquor. He flopped to the floor and out of the contest.
The Keeper, knowing she couldn't escape, confessed, "Okay, I might have forgotten we are building a settlement on Fae Garden's front gate. In all likelihood, the High Elders are probably ballistic right now, and Luna only knows what Camelot and Kondu will do."
"I have never heard of those two places before," Vienna frowned. "Any background worth sharing?"
"They are the two planets connected to Omicron's Rift Lines." Thessa's expression darkened as she continued, "Kondu: it's a pirate planet."
"Pirate planet?" Edgar repeated the term. Some childish part of his heart felt excited at the prospect of space-faring swashbucklers.
"The Fae Garden has five clans, but the Fire Clan—home to goblins, gnomes, and outcasts—tends to overflow." Thessa explained further. "When cast out, they settle on Kondu and raid the Rift Lines. Being far from central Fae Garden, it functions as our pressure valve. The Elder Council barely controls it. My clan maintains Camelot, our most fortified border planet, to watch both Kondu and Omicron."
She reached for her hair, fingers ruffling it as anxiety spiked. "While we can predict Camelot will summon me for a hearing, we have no idea what Kondu's pirates will do once they discover Omicron is habitable."
The Pioneer frowned; one particular point stuck out to him like an uneven crease. "You said Omicron is connected to a military post and a literal pirate haven, yet no one settles here?"
"Without terraforming, this place is a deathworld, Edgar," the Prime Magister explained. "You need resources to settle here—something your ragtag pirates didn't have and besieged High Terraria couldn't spare."
"But what about Fae Garden? Camelot could have requested resources."
"Not with Alpha around."
"Oh." Edgar, the Communicator who killed the guard dog, stilled. "But why didn't they just kill it?"
Wonderweiss nursed his aching forehead. "Not everyone can do what you did, Edgar. Even High Terraria needed a weapon of mass destruction to kill it; and that's before praying it would work through the spatial defense. Your access to Omicron's Planetary Energy was the only thing that could have killed that monster the way it did." He adjusted his glasses. "But even without Alpha, settling Omicron without terraforming tech was considered impossible."
"Why?" Thessa asked.
"The only landmass here is the southern tundra where Omicron's spirit resided and Leviathan Nest."
"Shit." Her curse was drawn out sheepishly. "I almost forgot Omicron used to make the southern region too disturbing for anyone to inhabit."
At the bar, the remaining men exchanged knowing looks and sampled Wonderweiss's lemon-peach wine, a taste both sour yet smooth to their throats.
"Exactly." The old man's confirmation carried a weight of centuries. "Prolonged exposure to the south used to drive people into insanity, and Leviathan Nest's deadliness spoke for itself. Neither the Fae Garden nor High Terraria had reason, or disposable capital, to pick a fight with Alpha over an inhospitable blue ball; until you killed the overlord and gained Omicron's approval."
Wonderweiss began to chuckle with such despair it made his throat parched. "But now they have every reason to do so." He paused, then issued an order: "Artemis, please bring me a drink."
The three surviving spectators shot knowing looks at a smugly grinning Caliper. They raised their glasses in silent tribute to his prediction: Wonderweiss would break before the night ended.
A drone with thread tracks emerged from the counter, carrying crystalline tall-necked glasses and Wonderweiss's favorite carbonated wine: New Charlotte C-10 Premium. The Prime Magister received both bottle and glass, stared at the glass for a moment and ignored it completely; instead, he grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, and took a long swig.
Vienna watched with concern. Her normally teetotaling teacher never drank unless an all-nighter caught up to him.
"Having the second strongest empire in the known universe targeting us is bad enough." Wonderweiss's words began to slur. "But with you—" he jabbed a finger at Edgar "—our greatest deterrent confined to a wheelchair, our chances in any conflict are practically zero."
"Luna's children aren't like that," Vienna protested.
"It's been centuries since we last visited." He turned to Thessa, as a representative of the Fae Garden, his voice heavy with implication. "Back then, they wouldn't abandon their young to a political wasteland. Even if we somehow avoid a massacre, having them as masters would destroy everything we've built."
"But you do have a countermeasure for that," Artemis the AI chimed through the alcohol carrier.
"Et tu, Artemis?" The elderly Wizard slumped in disbelief. "That is supposed to be top secret."
Another shot went down at the counter as Kirby's prediction came true: Wonderweiss's secrets never stayed hidden long. Caliper, victim of one too many high-alcohol-content victory toasts, crashed to the floor to join an unconscious Machin.
Despite his misgivings, the buzzed Magister complied. His holographic map transformed into an image of his ark: a tower of life floating in space like a scepter of power.
"This transport ship was prepared in advance," Wonderweiss explained, gesturing to the holographic ark. "We've recruited 10,234 volunteers who fell through High Terraria's social cracks. All of whom had already arrived with us to Omicron's system."
The screen expanded with faces and profiles: privates discharged for challenging commanders, siblings falsely accused in assault scandals, engineers and nurses left homeless after pension fraud. Face after face of wronged veterans filled the display until no space remained.
"So you're planning to use these people as shock troops against Fae Garden?" Eleanor's voice carried equal parts horror and disbelief.
"No—originally they were meant to set this planet on the path to civilization with proper defense. However, Edgar's injury forced us to speed up our timetable." Wonderweiss pulled up Kirby's scan. "But I think we have an alternative now."
Everyone but an ignorant Thessa scowled at what he had implied. The Keeper glanced around, confusion evident on her face. "What exactly is he planning?"
"He wants to turn all ten thousand people into Omic," Edgar's gaze narrowed at this audacious plan. "Omic are stronger and smarter than average humans, plus they can breathe underwater. Ten thousand Omic and a fortified Omicron would deter even Fae Garden."
As Thessa gaped, Eleanor's voice burned with concern. "Is this really necessary, Prime Magister? It could create conflict with High Terraria, and is it even possible?"
The desperate scientist took another swig. "It's not just possible; it's disturbingly simple. My genome simulations confirm we only need the right environment and some 'Primer.' Omicron can handle the details."
A voice of the planet whispered inside Edgar's ears: "The old fart is correct. The battle between you and that hole created a waterfall in the middle of the ocean. Genetic material in my waters still flows there, gathering in the pit below as mutagenic soup. With that fluid and a catalyst, an Omic can be recreated."
Wonderweiss then brought up an image of the ocean pit to illustrate his procedure. "First, we build a conversion and naturalization center over what I'm calling the Rebirth Waterfall. Then we transfer our people from the ark for transformation."
"Your ideas might be crazy enough to work." Even Vienna couldn't deny that ten thousand gun-owning superhumans would give any space pirates a second thought. "But we'd still lose to Fae Garden's main force in both quality and quantity. They may have declined since Luna's day, but they still have the Caste Warriors. They might not go randomly pick a fight with Alpha, but border issues are another problem entirely."
"Oh right." Thessa whistled, a note of pride mixing with concern as she remembered her people's greatest combat force. "Yeah, they'd turn the tide immediately."
"Caste what?" Eleanor curiously turned toward her rival.
The sinking sun outside, as if wanting to lend this conversation a heavier mood, painted the bay in amber as she explained. "You know how my School of Wizardry, the Adept Warrior path, focuses on unlocking the brain and body's full potential? The Caste Warriors took this concept further. They didn't just unlock their potential; they completely modified their bodies."
"Exactly," Wonderweiss nodded and finished the bottle. "Fae Garden's Caste Warriors are elite Adept Warriors who built their culture around transhuman military. They could be called the peak evolution of that Wizardry School."
"Are they stronger than you?" Eleanor asked Thessa.
"Certainly," she confirmed. "Even with more Omics, our central command would be ripped apart if even one of the castes joined the fight."
"Don't worry Miss Landia," Artemis cheerfully leaked another secret. "Prime Magister already developed a solution: Project Guardians."
The old man took another swig. "I should have programmed you never to leak my secrets," he told the AI. "But who cares? Just get this over with."
Under the numbing effect of the alcohol, the old man gave up, slumped in his seat and dozed off. Concurrently, a particularly strong vodka-laced grape juice finally knocked down Baldwin, leaving Kirby howling victoriously at the moon.
Having no more obstacles, Artemis switched the holographic display to show three glowing tubes — blue, red, and yellow. Each filled with bioluminescent liquid.
"Project Guardian evolved from Project Newman — our attempt to create humanity's next generation of supersoldiers to combat the unknown. Miss Luna's Caste Warriors proved this concept works. However, Wonderweiss developed a plan to push even further, using specialized serums on specific individuals to create genetic blueprints. The current candidates are: Edgar Shin, whose injury makes this perfectly timed; Thessa Landia, for diplomatic purposes and her new school of Wizardry; and finally, Eleanor, daughter of Elvaine."
"Elvaine?" Eleanor's hand moved to her ring — the Elvaine's Blood. "Who is that?"
"Wait, you don't need to mention that!" Vienna, who had something to hide like her teacher, cut in desperately to bury Eleanor's question. "I could—"
"According to the Prime Magister's notes," Artemis mercilessly ignored Vienna with the nearest emotion an AI has to glee, "Elvaine was a Demon Lord of Millennium Entropy during the Second War — ranked as a Planetary-level threat. She was slain by Magister Vienna in Genesis VIII. Subject Eleanor inherited her astral body, making her the first documented case of semi-unique human with highest-threat-level parameters and extraordinary Wizardry potential. Records indicate constant monitoring from childhood was required, carried out by Agent Chuck Silver in compromise with Magister Vienna."
The revelation landed like a fortress collapsing on their heads. All eyes turned to Vienna, who stood frozen after her most carefully guarded secret got exposed by an AI's trolling.
In that moment, Vienna found herself sharing an unexpected kinship with Wonderweiss: someone really needed to program Artemis to keep secrets better.