The Sector 3 exit platform trembled beneath Austin’s boots.
He had just recorded their crossing time when a deep hum rose from his dantian.
WUUUUURRRR—BZZZZT!
The heat absorbed from the incinerator vent had not dissipated. It had flowed through his spirit veins into the First Epoch containment mesh.
The fusion shell around his core changed from gold to electric violet. Magnetic arcs flared across its surface like flames around a newborn star.
A fanfare sounded as his system opened.
“Level forty.” Austin pushed his glasses up his nose. He checked the containment and cooling curves before anything else. Both were steady. That much power could run every factory on the continent for four hundred years.
New copper pellets, black glass pebbles, and curls of steel joined the rings around his ankles.
VZZZZ-VZZZZT!
Five paces away, Xiaoyao dropped to his knees. Sixteen times normal gravity pressed the air from his lungs.
The force was not killing intent or the proud pressure of a grandmaster. It was simple mass, cold and indifferent.
The fluorescent light bent around Austin. Violet-gold rings distorted the straight edges of the ceiling panels.
“Grand Senior,” Xiaoyao gasped. “A million degrees of Ancient True Flame burns inside you. You did not merely cross the sacred fire. You swallowed the solar vein of the First Gods!”
Pug sat down with a contented thump. He stretched his paws and panted happily in the warm aura. His left head flopped onto the stone and fell asleep.
Austin ignored the spectacle. He was frowning at his boots.
He took one step.
CRACK.
Hairline fractures spread through the granite tile. His legs felt heavy, and his system showed a sixteen percent movement penalty.
“Unbelievable. Level forty, and now my model clips into the floor. I walk like I’m wearing lead diving boots.”
Xiaoyao’s cheek was almost pressed to the stone. “Are the laws of the Secret Realm collapsing beneath your divine mass?”
“No. Lazy physics. My center of gravity didn’t update, so every step puts too much force on the heel. That adds drag and ruins the walking rhythm.”
Austin set down his clipboard and opened his rucksack. He rummaged past a thermos, plumber’s tape, and a box of drywall anchors. At the bottom were four fifty-pound lead balance weights.
“Time for a field adjustment.”
He put two weights in his left cargo pocket and clipped the other two to the right side of his tool belt.
Thump. Thump.
He jogged in place. The added balance stopped his heels from dragging. His next step landed cleanly without cracking the tile.
“There. Balance corrected. Movement penalty is gone.”
Xiaoyao watched Austin take two test steps before trusting the adjustment. Even after a breakthrough, he still checked his footing.
Austin hauled him upright by the collar.
“Break’s over. On your feet.”
The door to Sector 4 stood open. Beyond it, a bright corridor led to a circular pavilion of white jade and stainless steel.
A spirit chessboard thirty feet wide rested on a dragon-bone pedestal. Thousands of glowing black and white stones floated above it in shifting patterns.
Austin examined the cables feeding the pavilion.
“Open power lines, corroded connections, and no ground. The locals probably thought the electrical hum was the voice of a cosmic dragon.”
A display above the entrance read:
[SECTOR 04: LOGIC GATE REPLICATION AND DECISION ENGINE]
[TEST: PARALLEL STATE ANALYSIS]
Pug sneezed out the last of the duct dust and trotted to Austin’s side.
Austin tapped his clipboard.
“Final trial before the central core. Let’s see what kind of logic puzzle they left us.”