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Three days. It had only been three days since the console launch, and Caelan was already sitting in front of three of the most powerful people in Crimson Port.
They all looked about sixty, ordinary enough that you might pass them on the street without a second glance. But Caelan knew better. The man on the left was Dean Thaddeus Skypalm—"Heaven-Overturning Palm"—head of Crimson Academy. The one in the center was Jasper Autumnfire, "September Fire," City Lord of Crimson Port itself. And the third was some Vice Commander from the Crimson Legion whose name Caelan didn't know because he'd never met the man before.
Actually, he'd never met any of them before. Not even the Dean of his own academy.
So Caelan sat there like a rabbit caught in a snare, trying very hard not to move.
"Relax," Dean Thaddeus said, offering a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "We just want to ask about your console."
"Specifically," the Vice Commander added, "we want to know about your 'Spacetime Communication.'"
Of course they do.
Caelan had known his inventions would make waves. He just hadn't expected the military to send a Vice Commander in person. Or for the Dean and City Lord to show up alongside him. Maybe he'd been a little too flashy with the whole instant-messaging-across-thousands-of-miles thing.
Too late for regrets now.
So he talked. For about half an hour, he walked them through the manufacturing process—the materials, the techniques, the theory behind it all. There wasn't really anything to hide, and they'd find out eventually anyway.
When he finally finished, Dean Thaddeus chuckled. "I thought so. You figured out what white meteorite is actually for."
Caelan wasn't surprised they already knew about it. Humanity had ruled this continent for tens of thousands of years. Even with their glacial pace of innovation, someone must have figured it out ages ago. The real question was why it had never gone public.
"The Holy Emperor discovered it," Dean Thaddeus explained, as if reading his mind. "Before him, nobody had any idea what the stuff was good for."
That caught Caelan off guard. "Wait, really?"
A fellow transmigrator had cracked it. Somehow that made perfect sense.
"So..." Caelan hesitated. "Was its original use the enchanted crystal receiver? The radio broadcasts?"
Dean Thaddeus nodded. "Everyone assumed white meteorite only worked for people with sound-element talent. The Mage's Consortium tested it. Illusionists tested it. Every faction tried and failed." His eyes sharpened with curiosity. "So how did you make it work?"
Caelan could only shrug. "Honestly? I have no idea."
The Vice Commander leaned forward. "Caelan. Is there a way to make a simpler version of your Spacetime Communication? Something more portable?"
Ah. So that's why you're really here.
"Yeah," Caelan said without hesitation. "But I'd need help sourcing some of the materials."
"Done." The Vice Commander's voice was firm. "Whatever you need. If you can build it, just ask."
They started hashing out the details. The Vice Commander wanted something worn around the neck, like a pendant. Caelan thought a handheld device made more sense—easier to use, easier to read messages on.
"Wait," the Vice Commander interrupted. "You're saying two people with your runestones could actually see each other? Have a face-to-face conversation across thousands of miles?"
Even the Dean and the City Lord, who'd been content to observe from their seats, suddenly looked very interested.
"Uh... yeah." Caelan rubbed the back of his neck. "I just figured video calls would be too shocking right off the bat, so I limited it to text for now."
Dean Thaddeus laughed. "And yet here we are, shocked anyway. You didn't expect even text messages would bring us running, did you?"
"Not really, no."
Caelan paused, then decided he should just get this out in the open. "There's something you need to know, though. All the messages—everything people send through the system—passes through my mind palace first before reaching the recipient. So if you use this for military intelligence..." He let the implication hang. "I could check it anytime I wanted. Just so we're clear."
The three men exchanged glances but said nothing.
Dean Thaddeus's gaze dropped to Caelan's pocket. His brow furrowed. "Have you been absorbing Phantom Sound Stones?"
Caelan fished out a few black rocks and nodded. "They strengthen my mind palace. Figured I should keep them close."
"You know they reduce the power of your elemental magic, right?"
"Sure." Caelan shrugged. "But let's be honest—my best elemental talent is two-star fire. I'm never going to be some powerful battle mage. Better to double down on what I'm actually good at. And the stronger my mana gets, the less those side effects matter."
Dean Thaddeus considered this and seemed to accept the logic. Everyone knew Illusionists drew power from the emotions of people caught in their spells. With all those players pouring hours into his games, willingly losing themselves in his illusions, Caelan's growth would be explosive.
"What Circle have you reached?"
Fourth, probably. But Caelan decided to play it safe. Nobody could tell just by looking, after all.
"Just hit Third Circle recently."
Technically true. He had reached Third Circle about a month ago. The fact that he'd since rocketed to Fourth was... beside the point.
The City Lord and Vice Commander didn't react much—they had no idea he'd tested at First Circle just two months ago. But Dean Thaddeus knew. He looked mildly surprised, though he didn't push. Mana growth had no real ceiling as long as you didn't hit a bottleneck, and Third Circle wasn't exactly earth-shattering.
Still, the Dean felt obligated to say something encouraging. Don't get complacent. Keep working hard. The usual.
Caelan nodded along politely.
Then the Vice Commander pulled a runestone from his spatial ring and walked over, cutting the small talk short. "Do you recognize this?"
Caelan studied it. Size four, magical patterns shimmering inside—definitely engraved with something. But he had no idea what.
"No."
The Vice Commander smiled.
And then he channeled mana into the stone.
A strange pulse hit Caelan's mind palace like a wave. His thoughts stuttered. His vision went blank.
The runestone crumbled to dust in the Vice Commander's hand, but the man didn't even glance at it. His questions came fast.
"Are you a spy sent from another plane?"
"No." The word came out of Caelan's mouth without any input from his brain.
"Do you harbor hostility toward the Moonwatch Empire?"
"No."
"What is your main purpose in doing all of this?"
"To become stronger... to go home..."
"To become stronger and go home? What do you—"
Caelan's eyes trembled. Something in his mind palace pushed back, and suddenly he was himself again, gasping slightly, staring at the Vice Commander with new wariness.
That had been... deeply unsettling. Like his soul had floated outside his body, watching helplessly as his mouth answered questions on its own.
The Vice Commander stared back, expression unreadable.
Dean Thaddeus was silent, clearly mulling over what he'd just heard. But City Lord Jasper spoke up, his tone dry. "Really, Chester? You used a Truth-Telling Spell on a kid who's barely Third Circle?"
Third Circle. Caelan almost laughed despite himself. Even at Fourth Circle, his actual combat ability was probably closer to Second. The City Lord was giving him way too much credit.
Vice Commander Chester Mountainheart didn't flinch. "This boy's importance to our nation exceeds that of a Ninth Circle expert. I had to be certain."
His expression softened slightly as he looked at Caelan again. "I apologize for that. As a soldier, your importance demanded I test your loyalty."