Chapter 723 - The Cube

As Zeke sailed toward the cube, he searched for any potential entrance.  They were out there, though no one else – at least people to which he could speak – had been capable of telling him where.  So, after investigating each of the moons, it came down to an in-person search. 

Not that he minded.  Not really, at least.  The thrill of adventure had grabbed hold of him, and he couldn’t deny that he felt like a real explorer.  Quite a change from his normal state, which veered much closer to wanton slaughter than anything else. 

However, he couldn’t deny that, with every mile closer to the cube that he drew, the more painful it became.  As he closed the distance, the divine energy became thicker and thicker until he felt like he was swimming in something semi-solid.  Still, he didn’t dare stop.  In fact, it only excited him more.

And then, he reached the surface and nearly passed out.  He leaped free of the boat only a moment before it burst into splinters, and he used [Primordial Titan].  The transformation barely completed before he hit the surface with a roll.  The mere touch of the cube’s surface scalded him, and by the time he regained his feet, the pain of it was enough to elicit an annoyed grunt.

Anyone else would have been screaming in agony, but Zeke was made of stronger stuff than that.  After everything he had endured, the pain of touching the cube was only a little distracting and easily ignored.  He did so, looking around.  The grooves that seemed so benign from afar had become great chasms on the cube’s expansive face.  What’s more, it wasn’t nearly as flat as it had once appeared, with a topography as varied as the surface of any planet.

If it hadn’t been metallic and cubic in shape, he might have assumed it was one.

However, he was far more interested in the divine energy surrounding the structure.  It felt different than anything he’d ever experienced, though it was still identifiable as the familiar energy he routinely used. 

Zeke closed his eyes and sank to his knees, laying his palm on the metallic surface.  At first, he was overwhelmed by the nature of the divine energy itself, but after a few moments, he began to look past that and the underlying structure. 

He recoiled.

But it was too late.  Threads, tangled and twisted around one another, erupted in his awareness.  He pulled away with a gasp, but it did no good.  Those threads wrapped around him, dragging him towards unconsciousness as his ability to think evaded him. 

He descended toward the blessed blackness that offered some measure of relief, and even in those scarce few seconds, he felt his mind begin to unravel.  It was like once again finding himself within the Framework and being slowly suffocated by the adversary. 

There was no enemy there, though.  No Framework, either. 

In fact, the echoes of his experiences were more impactful than the cube’s effect.  The resonance was the issue.  Not the cube itself. 

Upon realizing that, Zeke slammed his willpower against those threads, embracing his own divine energy until it pushed the strings away.  Only then did he fully recover his consciousness, and enough to realize he’d been kneeling there for days.  Maybe even weeks. 

He took a breath.  Or tried to, at least.  The fact that he was effectively in space cut that off, though.  It wouldn’t kill him, but things didn’t work exactly the same, either. 

Either way, he took a moment to compose himself before focusing outside the bubble of divine energy he’d created around himself.  The moment his awareness floated away, he was once again assailed by those same threads.  This time, he was ready for the attack, though.  He battered them aside with a combination of his willpower and divine energy, which allowed him to look closer.

The strings weren’t the same as the ones he’d experienced within the Framework.  Rather, they were slightly thicker.  Clumsier.  Still just as individually strong, but far less refined.  As a result of that lack of refinement, they couldn’t exert nearly as much pressure upon him.

It was the only reason he hadn’t fallen as far as he had when he’d entered the so-called Void.  Or perhaps it was because he’d grown stronger.  Whatever the case, he inched forward, experiencing a little more with every passing moment.  It wasn’t pleasant, but so long as he took his time, he could endure.

Suddenly, he realized the opportunity before him. 

The best way to acclimate to something was to experience it a little at a time.  While he couldn’t regulate the actual void, he could encapsulate himself in this less powerful version.  And in doing so, he could get used to it. 

The only problem was that it would take quite a while to do so. 

Would his friends remain in place while he experimented?  Probably.  But he wasn’t certain that he wanted to subject them to that.  Not without letting them know what was going on.  So, he located the Mercury in the distance, then threw himself from the cube.  The second he left its atmosphere, he felt a sense of distinct relief. 

But that soon faded when he realized he had no way to slow himself as he zipped past the Mercury.  As it turned out, someone on the ship had already thought about that, because they tossed a harpoon in his direction.  His momentum still took him far past the ship, and once the attached rope drew taught, he towed it for a long way before they managed to slow him down.

After that, it was just a matter of reeling him in.

Once his feet touched down on the deck, he was berated by Iris, who did not appreciate the destruction of her boarding vessel. 

“In my defense, I didn’t actually break it.  The cube did.”

“Leave it be, man,” Tucker said with a shake of his head. “Just take what she wants to dish out.  You’ll be better off for it.”

Zeke took his friend’s advice before explaining what he wanted to do.  “I don’t know how long this is going to take. For all I know, I’ll be there for months.  But I feel like I need to do it while I have a chance,” he said.  “It’s no different than inoculating myself against my Will, so long ago.  If I put in the work now, I’ll be that much better off in the future.”

“Do you really think you’re going to have to deal with the void?” asked Talia.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.  “My instincts say yes, but there’s no real way to say for certain.  I can’t tell the future.”

As far as he knew, no one could.  Probably because the future wasn’t written in stone, and even if it was, the simple act of revealing it would change everything.  From what Zeke could tell, the universe didn’t do well with paradoxes like that.  Though if he was honest with himself, which wasn’t always the case, he had to admit that that supposition was more of a guess than a hard-and-fast rule.  He just didn’t have the knowledge to say anything on the subject with any degree of certainty.

Either way, Zeke wasn’t in the mood to meditate on his own flaws.  Instead, he wanted to get back to work.  Largely, that desire was born of a desire to do something of consequence.  He didn’t like sitting still, and any time he spent not progressing seemed like a waste.

Still, he did take a few hours to talk it out with Talia.  She supported him, but he wanted to ensure that her support was real, rather than just a recitation of what he wanted to hear.  Such was the reality of their relationship.  Talia’s devotion meant that she rarely made demands of him.  Instead, and almost to a fault, she followed his lead.

It was not healthy.

But in that moment, Zeke was more than happy that he didn’t need to argue about it.  Talia simply accepted that he needed to do what he was going to do.  Everything else was just a meaningless details. 

After he’d cleared it with her, he made arrangements with Iris.  They couldn’t remain in the area indefinitely.  Even from so far away, the cube’s effect on the area was thick enough to wear through the Mercury’s enchantments.  Without those, everyone onboard would die in the vacuum of space.

After all, they weren’t all gods.  Sure, Talia, Iris, and Tucker could survive.  But the others?  They would surely die ignoble deaths.  So, they worked out a schedule where the Mercury would remain in place for two weeks at a time, then head back to the Shattered Hold for repairs, only to return two weeks later. 

If they weren’t there when Zeke emerged from his meditation, then he would throw himself at one of the moons, where he would await their return. 

Not the greatest plan in the universe, but it was the best anyone could come up with, given the circumstances. 

“This is probably very dumb,” Tucker remarked as Zeke gripped the rail and prepared to throw himself toward the cube.  “You realize that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Zeke admitted. 

“Then why do it?” Tucker asked. 

“Because I think I have to.  You have instincts too, right?”

Tucker shrugged, leaning over the edge and peering off into the void of space.  “When it comes to alchemy, sure.  But that’s a skill at work.  My path helps too.  But this kind of thing?  No.  I don’t get instincts like that,” he explained.  “I guess you do, though.”

“Yeah.  I can’t really explain it, either,” Zeke revealed, shaking his head.  “I wish I could.  It’s just that there are times when I know what I’m supposed to do.  Like my stomach clenches up, and I Just know.  This is one of those times.  If I don’t do this, I’m going to fail.  I feel that in my bones.”

“Well, then you’d best get to it, then.  If it makes any difference, we’ll all be fine,” Tucker said.

“Take care of her,” Zeke said, glancing toward Talia.  She’d already said her goodbye and was acting as if she wasn’t distressed beyond measure.  “She’s more vulnerable than she looks.”

Tucker nodded.  “By all rights, you ought to be the one taking care of her.  You know that, don’t you?  You could do worse than spending a few hundred years with that girl,” he said. 

“I know.  Believe me, if it was up to me…”

“Isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Up to you,” remarked Tucker.  “If it’s not up to you, then who’s it up to?”

Zeke shrugged.  “You know, I’m not sure,” he admitted.  “Fate, maybe?  The Creator?  Whoever gave me the potential to make a difference?”

The reality was that he had no idea where it all came from.  On the one hand, he wanted to believe he was the author of his own destiny.  He had free will, didn’t he?  To a certain extent, he was sure of that.  However, he also felt certain that he wasn’t fully in control, that someone was pulling strings.  Those strings were attached to other strings, that were in turn attached to an infinite number of other threads.  Eventually, they got to Zeke.  Maybe the result wasn’t what the original puppeteer had intended, but the chain of cause and effect was there all the same.

Or maybe it was all just random chance, and any attempt to make sense of it would doom him to insanity. 

“I’m not sure anyone’s in charge of all this,” he stated.  “It’s too chaotic, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Tucker offered.  “Or maybe there’s someone out there – some force we can’t understand – just throwing things at the wall and hoping something will stick.  You’re the bit that stuck.”

“That doesn’t…that isn’t comforting,” Zeke said.

Tucker shrugged.  “Didn’t really mean for it to be.  I’m not much of a philosopher, if I’m honest.  Just an old man who’s seen too much to think everything is random.  And too scared to believe in some great architect.  Don’t mind me, though.  I don’t really know anything.”

Zeke wasn’t really sure about that.  Tucker was, at his core, one of the most intelligent people he’d ever known.  In the past, that presented itself via his alchemical prowess.  He was the best at what he did in all the Mortal Realm, and that had continued even in the Eternal Realm.  Levels and attributes be damned, Tucker could do things nobody else could.

He had cured an entire species of a curse meant to drain their sapience over time.  He was a true miracle worker, and maybe as special as anyone Zeke had ever met.  The only difference between him and Zeke lay in their priorities.  Zeke was always pushing for the next plateau, while Tucker had found happiness with Iris. 

Otherwise, they might’ve been pursuing the same goal.

But that was the case with most of his friends.  Pudge wasn’t so different than Tucker.  He had a wife.  A life.  He was still driven, but not like Zeke, who had no one to hold him back.  By comparison, Talia was too devoted to Zeke to truly devote herself to progression. 

Jasper wasn’t special enough, and Silik only truly cared about the fate of his people. 

On and on the list went, explaining why everyone else had given up on the pursuit of the true pinnacle.  Even Oberon had admitted he couldn’t make it. 

But Zeke could.

He knew that down to his core. 

So, it was without further hesitation that he vaulted the railing and sent himself rocketing across space toward the cube.