Chapter 35: The Celestial Audit
Logos, the Celestial Customs Officer, did not walk; he transitioned. One moment he was a towering pillar of light on the horizon, and the next, he was standing directly on the Rig's loading dock, his celestial monocle scanning the warehouse with the intensity of a dying star.
"Courier Xavier Cross," Logos boomed, his voice echoing like the slamming of a million filing cabinets. "You are operating a Type-4 Logistics Chassis with unsanctioned spatial-warp modifications, an unregistered S-Rank sentient core, and—" he squinted through the lens—"is that a civilian-grade hat on a Divine entity?"
Aurelius, still wearing the Nike cap, blinked his golden eye. "It is a standard-issue uniform, Officer."
"Silence," Logos commanded. "The late fees for a three-millennia delay are currently calculated at the cost of fourteen solar systems. Please prepare for immediate asset seizure."
Xavier stepped forward, his silver engine humming with a calm, steady rhythm. He didn't reach for his sword. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the glowing gold scroll recovered from the Zero-Point Package.
"Direct Commission," Xavier said, holding it up. "Signed by the Creator. Priority Omega. According to the Universal Logistics Charter, Section 8, Paragraph 1: 'Priority Omega freight is exempt from all tolls, late fees, and local parking ordinances.'"
The giant's monocle cracked. A spiderweb of fractures raced across the lens as he processed the data.
"Validation... confirmed," Logos muttered, his voice dropping from a thunderous boom to a disgruntled growl. "Late fees waived. However, you are still subject to a Grade-S Safety Inspection. If so much as a single mana-bolt is out of alignment, I will impound this structure indefinitely."
The Rig was towed by a beam of tractor-light into the Great Sorting Facility. It was a space that defied comprehension—a dock the size of a galaxy where legendary couriers from across the multiverse were parked. To their left was a spectral galleon delivering jars of captured memories; to their right, a mechanical dragon with star-clusters in its belly.
As the Rig settled onto a massive, moving platform, Xavier caught a flicker of purple light in the reflection of a nearby window.
"Serena, scanner!"
"Already on it," Serena whispered, her tablet glowing. "Xavier, we have a breach. Three signatures, high-density Void matter. They're planting something in the ventilation ducts!"
Xavier's Cargo Integrity Scanner flared. Through the walls, he saw three glowing red blobs—"Counterfeit" mana canisters. If Logos found those during the inspection, the "Direct Commission" wouldn't save them from a charge of smuggling Void-corruption.
"They're trying to frame us," Xavier gritted his teeth. "Silas, stay with the Rig. Serena, track them. I'm going for a run."
Xavier vaulted over the railing of the loading dock, landing on a primary conveyor belt that was moving at near-light speeds toward the incinerators. In the vacuum of the Nexus, there was no wind resistance—only the raw, terrifying velocity of the belt beneath his feet.
He saw them: three hooded figures in obsidian-laced dusters, leaping between the massive moving platforms of the sorting array.
"Blink-Shift!"
Xavier vanished in a silver spark, reappearing on a parallel belt. The infiltrators saw him and began firing bolts of shadow. In this environment, Xavier's Exhaust acted as pure, unfiltered thrust. He didn't just run; he moved like a rocket, his silver steam propelling him through the airless void.
He caught the lead infiltrator on a junction where four belts merged. Xavier didn't use his blade. He used his momentum. He slammed into the saboteur, the Kinetic Battery absorbing the impact and venting it into a localized shockwave that sent the "Counterfeit" canister flying from the man's grip.
The canister tumbled toward the Rig, where Logos was just beginning his scan.
"Not today," Xavier roared.
He performed a Warp-Drift, blinking twice in mid-air to catch the canister. Using a Kinetic Discharge, he pivoted his body and hurled the illegal mana into a nearby "Recycling Bin"—a funnel that led directly into a localized sun used for power generation.
The evidence turned to ash a second before Logos's monocle swept over the area.
Ten minutes later, Logos finished his walk-through. He looked disappointed.
"Your engine is... remarkably clean," Logos admitted, handing Xavier a shimmering Passage Key. "And your inventory is within legal limits. You are granted passage to the Inner Sanctum."
The giant leaned down, his face a mask of celestial light. "But hear me, Courier. Your father didn't fail to deliver that package because he was slow. He was looking for someone who could survive the opening of it. The 'Customer' at the end of this route... he does not accept returns."
The massive doors at the end of the sorting bay hissed open. Xavier, Serena, and Silas expected a throne room of gold or a void of infinite stars.
Instead, the Rig floated into a quiet, sterile, suburban-looking office. There were fluorescent lights, a water cooler that bubbled softly, and a single wooden desk. On the desk sat a nameplate that read: "CLAIMS & RETURNS."
Sitting behind the desk was a man in a beige cardigan, reading a newspaper. He looked up, adjusted his glasses, and smiled.
"Ah, the Zero-Point Core," the man said. "You're a bit late, but I suppose the traffic in the Slip is dreadful this time of millennium. I'm the Customer. Shall we discuss the delivery?"
New System Reward: Celestial Registry