He sometimes wondered if the Hour simply hated him. He'd heard about such cases historically, but at this point, he'd been struggling with this Forge for so long that he was long past any desire to prostrate himself before it and curry its favor.
Instead, he was hoping to soon begin work on a Forge of his very own creation. He'd been studying for decades toward that end, but according to his research, he still wasn't quite old enough for that feat to be feasible.
Not without some kind of immense sacrifice, at least.
Supposedly, it was possible to give up a part of one's very soul, impairing both the reaper and servant indefinitely, in order to reach that final plateau, but Xander's need was not so great as that.
The marshals wouldn't even humor the notion, either. They always just told him to focus on mastering the Golden Hour. It was the heart of Vanguardian innovation for nearly a thousand years, after all.
Which might explain why there hadn't actually been much movement on that front, comparatively.
Despite all their age and experience, it seemed difficult for them to understand the true nature of the Golden Hour.
They seemed to think that all Fusion Forges were basically the same. All just grand engines of incredible creative power.
Which was true enough, of course. Especially when looking at history, which was what all the marshals did.
But there was a secondary truth there that could not always be ignored.
There was a reason why no two Forges were alike. They were living, thinking entities. They all had different capabilities. Different specialties. Different likes and dislikes.
Therefore, it would be foolish to assume that they were all equal, too. The sheer degree of variance among them rendered that a statistical impossibility.
But of course, it was also true that the Golden Hour had a storied history of grand creation. It was the child of one of the most famous integrators ever, after all.
Hamenszoon, the Undaunted Mind.
It was hard not to feel inadequate by comparison, but Xander knew that he was in good company. No other Vanguardian integrator had been able to wield the Hour as impressively as Hamenszoon. It was nothing to be ashamed of.
In fact, perhaps the Hour simply could not work as well for anyone else. Perhaps it ached for its creator, even now.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
▼
Monday, September 7, 2026
Sunday, September 6, 2026
Page 4156
Rarely had Jackson seen him take such a tone and disposition with him, but it always meant that he was in no mood for japes, despite all previous evidence to the contrary.
For his part, however, Jackson remained quietly suspicious, even as he acquiesced to the High Commander's order.
-+-+-+-+-
The Golden Hour hummed lowly, growing briefly strong enough to send a shock wave through the polished floor.
The Magician of Light looked up from his broad desk, having just sat down after returning from a long and frustrating trip. He hadn't even attempted to communicate with the Fusion Forge in several days, much less actually use it.
So what was this now? Why was it acting up?
The monolithic thing certainly lived up to its name. It was a gigantic golden hourglass, stretching up the full height of the chamber and connecting with the domed ceiling at its central point.
Xander's green eyes narrowed at the sight of it there, and he stood up, shaking the malaise from his mind and the fatigue from his limbs.
To say that the Hour was a fickle entity was certainly an understatement. Xander had been privileged enough to work with multiple different Fusion Forges over the course of his life, but the Hour was the most mercurial by far.
Oh, how he missed the Silent Serpent. Not a day went by that he didn't envy Kurata for inheriting such a cooperative Forge.
Instead, he'd become the steward of this moody bastard.
He approached the Golden Hour but didn't yet deign to touch it. That was a mistake he'd made too many times before. He needed to give it ample time to prepare itself before making direct contact. He needed to speak to it, too. Help alert it to his presence.
"What's the matter?" he asked in a soothing tone.
This was key to its operation, he'd learned. He suspected it was because the Golden Hour was often lost in thought and so its ability to sense its immediate surroundings was greatly diminished--possibly even non-existent.
So he had to lure it back into reality, first.
This was especially important when the Hour had a project already running inside it, like it did now. Slow as it was, its projects could often take weeks to complete even just a single step; and worse still, if Xander approached it carelessly, the brewing project could be instantly ruined.
Months of work, lost in an instant.
Another mistake he'd made far too many times.
For his part, however, Jackson remained quietly suspicious, even as he acquiesced to the High Commander's order.
-+-+-+-+-
The Golden Hour hummed lowly, growing briefly strong enough to send a shock wave through the polished floor.
The Magician of Light looked up from his broad desk, having just sat down after returning from a long and frustrating trip. He hadn't even attempted to communicate with the Fusion Forge in several days, much less actually use it.
So what was this now? Why was it acting up?
The monolithic thing certainly lived up to its name. It was a gigantic golden hourglass, stretching up the full height of the chamber and connecting with the domed ceiling at its central point.
Xander's green eyes narrowed at the sight of it there, and he stood up, shaking the malaise from his mind and the fatigue from his limbs.
To say that the Hour was a fickle entity was certainly an understatement. Xander had been privileged enough to work with multiple different Fusion Forges over the course of his life, but the Hour was the most mercurial by far.
Oh, how he missed the Silent Serpent. Not a day went by that he didn't envy Kurata for inheriting such a cooperative Forge.
Instead, he'd become the steward of this moody bastard.
He approached the Golden Hour but didn't yet deign to touch it. That was a mistake he'd made too many times before. He needed to give it ample time to prepare itself before making direct contact. He needed to speak to it, too. Help alert it to his presence.
"What's the matter?" he asked in a soothing tone.
This was key to its operation, he'd learned. He suspected it was because the Golden Hour was often lost in thought and so its ability to sense its immediate surroundings was greatly diminished--possibly even non-existent.
So he had to lure it back into reality, first.
This was especially important when the Hour had a project already running inside it, like it did now. Slow as it was, its projects could often take weeks to complete even just a single step; and worse still, if Xander approached it carelessly, the brewing project could be instantly ruined.
Months of work, lost in an instant.
Another mistake he'd made far too many times.
Saturday, September 5, 2026
Page 4155
"I want you to stop drowning yourself," said Hector.
"Oh, is that what I'm doing? How silly of me. Yeah, I'll just go ahead and cut that out. Thanks."
What the hell are you two on about?
Then, however, there was silence. Both of them shut up at once, leaving Jackson to wonder what in the world could have ended their bickering so abruptly.
Is there something you need to tell me?
Jackson stared at Sermung first, then Hector. They weren't saying anything aloud, but there was an exchange going on. A silent one. They were trying to have a private conversation right in front of him.
The Radiant Sentinel found that intensely obnoxious.
He released a small puff of flame between the two of them.
Hey. Don't ignore me.
They glared at each other for a moment longer before Hector finally spoke up.
"...Your boss needs a vacation," he said.
Hah. So do I. But sadly, this isn't that kind of job.
And the two of them fell quiet again, though they didn't seem to be having a silent discussion this time.
Jackson felt compelled to press further. What's the matter?
"It's not important," said Sermung. "I'll tell you some other time. Tell us more about the situation here in Andeyal."
Jackson was not prepared to drop it, however. Drowning himself, Hector had said? He decided to press the kid further. What did you mean by Sermung drowning himself?
Sermung answered, instead. "He's worried that I am taking on too much responsibility."
Hmm. And are you?
"Of course I am. That, too, is the job."
Well, he wasn't wrong, Jackson knew. But still. His burning gaze lingered on Hector for a moment.
This was hardly the first time that such concerns had arisen over the centuries. Loose talk of that exact type was common enough for any servant who reached even the rank of general.
But Sermung had always been something of a special case in that regard. In Jackson's youth, his mentor here had always been utterly unflappable. A rock. Both literally and metaphorically.
And Jackson knew that Sermung disliked wasting time on such discussions. 'Aimless pondering' he often called it.
But was that the case, still? It was admittedly a bit difficult for Jackson to see the man as ever struggling in such a way, but--
"Your report, Marshal." The relaxed air that had surrounded the High Commander was gone.
"Oh, is that what I'm doing? How silly of me. Yeah, I'll just go ahead and cut that out. Thanks."
What the hell are you two on about?
Then, however, there was silence. Both of them shut up at once, leaving Jackson to wonder what in the world could have ended their bickering so abruptly.
Is there something you need to tell me?
Jackson stared at Sermung first, then Hector. They weren't saying anything aloud, but there was an exchange going on. A silent one. They were trying to have a private conversation right in front of him.
The Radiant Sentinel found that intensely obnoxious.
He released a small puff of flame between the two of them.
Hey. Don't ignore me.
They glared at each other for a moment longer before Hector finally spoke up.
"...Your boss needs a vacation," he said.
Hah. So do I. But sadly, this isn't that kind of job.
And the two of them fell quiet again, though they didn't seem to be having a silent discussion this time.
Jackson felt compelled to press further. What's the matter?
"It's not important," said Sermung. "I'll tell you some other time. Tell us more about the situation here in Andeyal."
Jackson was not prepared to drop it, however. Drowning himself, Hector had said? He decided to press the kid further. What did you mean by Sermung drowning himself?
Sermung answered, instead. "He's worried that I am taking on too much responsibility."
Hmm. And are you?
"Of course I am. That, too, is the job."
Well, he wasn't wrong, Jackson knew. But still. His burning gaze lingered on Hector for a moment.
This was hardly the first time that such concerns had arisen over the centuries. Loose talk of that exact type was common enough for any servant who reached even the rank of general.
But Sermung had always been something of a special case in that regard. In Jackson's youth, his mentor here had always been utterly unflappable. A rock. Both literally and metaphorically.
And Jackson knew that Sermung disliked wasting time on such discussions. 'Aimless pondering' he often called it.
But was that the case, still? It was admittedly a bit difficult for Jackson to see the man as ever struggling in such a way, but--
"Your report, Marshal." The relaxed air that had surrounded the High Commander was gone.
Friday, September 4, 2026
Thursday, September 3, 2026
Page 4154
"Listen, Hector," said Sermung. "Jackson means well. He's a swell guy. But he's very controlling. Don't ever sign anything he gives you."
It's not 'controlling.' It's simply 'organized.' Something you have never and obviously WILL never understand.
"Yeah, yeah, just relax, would you? Hector's fine. You're worried you can't speak freely in front of him, I assume? I'll vouch for him."
Unbelievable. You'll 'vouch' for him? You are the most powerful man on the planet controlling the most powerful organization on the planet. Operational security isn't something you 'vouch' for.
"Why not?"
Even all the way back in the archive room, Jackson had to pause, blink, and sigh.
How long have you known this guy, exactly?
Sermung gave an armored shrug. "Twenty minutes or so?"
Suddenly, Jackson found himself wanting these two to resume fighting, if only so he could join in on Hector's side.
Hector chimed in now. "It'--uh... I would actually be very interested in meeting with you in person, Mr. Sentinel."
Oh?
"Hector, please. You're encouraging him, and that's not a good thing."
"Yeah, but I mean, if it pisses you off, then it can't be all bad, right?"
"Oh, you little brat. Still keen to fight, are you?"
"I sure am. And I know you are, too."
Okay, this kid was growing on him, Jackson thought. His file was an interesting read, too. Updated most recently by Xander, of all people. Apparently, they'd met in a foundational realm.
Also, 'Mr. Sentinel?' That was a new one. Taken from Radiant Sentinel, of course. A moniker that Jackson had never particularly loved, considering how overly grandiose it sounded--but he'd also not had a true last name in centuries, and frankly, when used like that, he didn't hate it.
Still, there was a time and place for indulgence, and this was not it. Jackson needed to rein these two in, not exacerbate whatever silliness they were getting up to.
Abolish has infiltrated the city, Jackson told them.
Neither of them seemed surprised.
"At this point, it'd be stranger if they hadn't," said Sermung.
"How bad is it, though?" said Hector. "Enough to worry you?"
"He's always worrying. It's one of his favorite pasttimes."
"It's one of yours, too."
"Oh, kiddo, you could at least act nicer to me in front of others."
"I could. But why, though?"
"You really just want me to punch you, don't you?"
It's not 'controlling.' It's simply 'organized.' Something you have never and obviously WILL never understand.
"Yeah, yeah, just relax, would you? Hector's fine. You're worried you can't speak freely in front of him, I assume? I'll vouch for him."
Unbelievable. You'll 'vouch' for him? You are the most powerful man on the planet controlling the most powerful organization on the planet. Operational security isn't something you 'vouch' for.
"Why not?"
Even all the way back in the archive room, Jackson had to pause, blink, and sigh.
How long have you known this guy, exactly?
Sermung gave an armored shrug. "Twenty minutes or so?"
Suddenly, Jackson found himself wanting these two to resume fighting, if only so he could join in on Hector's side.
Hector chimed in now. "It'--uh... I would actually be very interested in meeting with you in person, Mr. Sentinel."
Oh?
"Hector, please. You're encouraging him, and that's not a good thing."
"Yeah, but I mean, if it pisses you off, then it can't be all bad, right?"
"Oh, you little brat. Still keen to fight, are you?"
"I sure am. And I know you are, too."
Okay, this kid was growing on him, Jackson thought. His file was an interesting read, too. Updated most recently by Xander, of all people. Apparently, they'd met in a foundational realm.
Also, 'Mr. Sentinel?' That was a new one. Taken from Radiant Sentinel, of course. A moniker that Jackson had never particularly loved, considering how overly grandiose it sounded--but he'd also not had a true last name in centuries, and frankly, when used like that, he didn't hate it.
Still, there was a time and place for indulgence, and this was not it. Jackson needed to rein these two in, not exacerbate whatever silliness they were getting up to.
Abolish has infiltrated the city, Jackson told them.
Neither of them seemed surprised.
"At this point, it'd be stranger if they hadn't," said Sermung.
"How bad is it, though?" said Hector. "Enough to worry you?"
"He's always worrying. It's one of his favorite pasttimes."
"It's one of yours, too."
"Oh, kiddo, you could at least act nicer to me in front of others."
"I could. But why, though?"
"You really just want me to punch you, don't you?"
Wednesday, September 2, 2026
Page 4153
But oh well. Jackson supposed there were more pressing matters to discuss than whatever nonsense these two had been indulging in.
Are you aware of the current situation in Intar, Sermung?
"A bit," said the High Commander. "I did some intel-gathering on the way here. Wasn't expecting a sudden invasion of Yigorosks, though. That was a surprise. I'm sure you've got plenty more to tell me, hmm?"
He did. But first, Jackson's burning gaze fell upon Hector again. Back in his office, he'd stopped writing altogether and had started walking toward the archive room. It was a short trip, but the room itself was no modest thing. Thankfully, his meticulous filing system would prevent that from becoming an issue.
Soon, he would see all that Vanguard knew about this youngster from Atreya.
Which was perhaps a bit presumptuous of him to assume that he was indeed a youngster, but Jackson had long since gotten into the habit of treating everyone--in his head, at least--like they were a kid until proven otherwise. Especially servants. Oddly enough, non-servants got a bit of a pass from him. That was a different kind of living. Higher stakes, one might say.
But servants? No. Even if this kid was already a hundred and fifty years old, he was still a kid to Jackson.
He just had to be careful not to actually say so explicitly here. Jackson knew from copious experience that people tended to get offended when he did that.
In the meantime, however, he was far from comfortable having a full conversation with the High Commander in front of this stranger.
Perhaps you would like to come to my office so that we can discuss this in greater detail?
"Oh, no, no, no," said Sermung, backing up a little in the air. "We're not doing this. I just got back. You're not tricking me into doing paperwork, right now."
That's not what I'm trying--
"And you're not getting Hector to do some, either."
Jackson paused.
"Yeah, I knew it," said Sermung. "I know this is a strange situation, but that doesn't mean you can just get him signing all sorts of weird NDAs and whatever new crap you've probably come up with lately."
"What?" said Hector, eyeing the avatar anew. "You want me to sign stuff?"
Jackson, for his part, merely remained silent. Damn. He hadn't gotten caught red-handed like this in a long time.
Are you aware of the current situation in Intar, Sermung?
"A bit," said the High Commander. "I did some intel-gathering on the way here. Wasn't expecting a sudden invasion of Yigorosks, though. That was a surprise. I'm sure you've got plenty more to tell me, hmm?"
He did. But first, Jackson's burning gaze fell upon Hector again. Back in his office, he'd stopped writing altogether and had started walking toward the archive room. It was a short trip, but the room itself was no modest thing. Thankfully, his meticulous filing system would prevent that from becoming an issue.
Soon, he would see all that Vanguard knew about this youngster from Atreya.
Which was perhaps a bit presumptuous of him to assume that he was indeed a youngster, but Jackson had long since gotten into the habit of treating everyone--in his head, at least--like they were a kid until proven otherwise. Especially servants. Oddly enough, non-servants got a bit of a pass from him. That was a different kind of living. Higher stakes, one might say.
But servants? No. Even if this kid was already a hundred and fifty years old, he was still a kid to Jackson.
He just had to be careful not to actually say so explicitly here. Jackson knew from copious experience that people tended to get offended when he did that.
In the meantime, however, he was far from comfortable having a full conversation with the High Commander in front of this stranger.
Perhaps you would like to come to my office so that we can discuss this in greater detail?
"Oh, no, no, no," said Sermung, backing up a little in the air. "We're not doing this. I just got back. You're not tricking me into doing paperwork, right now."
That's not what I'm trying--
"And you're not getting Hector to do some, either."
Jackson paused.
"Yeah, I knew it," said Sermung. "I know this is a strange situation, but that doesn't mean you can just get him signing all sorts of weird NDAs and whatever new crap you've probably come up with lately."
"What?" said Hector, eyeing the avatar anew. "You want me to sign stuff?"
Jackson, for his part, merely remained silent. Damn. He hadn't gotten caught red-handed like this in a long time.
Tuesday, September 1, 2026
Page 4152
His burning avatar floated closer with more uncertainty than urgency. To his surprise, however, the armored stranger managed to wriggle free of Sermung's grip somehow, and there was yet more confusion to arrive.
The opponent zipped away across the aerial battlefield, peppering Sermung with a cloud of buzzing flakes. Like bugs? Jackson wasn't sure what to make of it.
Then Sermung finally seemed to notice him waiting there. The buzzing swarm around his head did not cease, even as the man raised a hand and waved. "Jackson! How long have you been there?"
Long enough to wonder what the hell you're doing.
Making the avatar actually speak would've required even more concentration; and it wasn't necessary in this case, because Sermung did not need to hear a voice in order to understand him.
"Oh, I'm just... ah... it doesn't matter. Tell me how you've been, my boy! It's been so long for you, hasn't it?"
It has. But not for you, yes? If you keep this up, I'll be older than you soon.
"Hah! Not likely, youngster!"
Back in his office, Jackson was shaking his head. This was the only man in the world who could say that to him.
The buzzing swarm around Sermung's head came to an abrupt stop, and Jackson noticed the armored stranger approach the two of them.
"Uh... you guys need a minute to talk?" said the stranger.
"Oh, no, you can keep attacking," said Sermung. "I can multitask."
"I'm... not gonna do that."
Who is this, Jackson wondered? And why are you fighting him in the middle of downtown Andeyal?
Rather than answering, however, Sermung merely turned to his former opponent.
"Oh, sorry," said the stranger. "I'm Hector Goffe of Atreya."
The fact that this young fellow could also understand him was enough to catch Jackson's attention.
"I'd, er... offer you a handshake, but... you're literally on fire, so..."
The avatar turned to Sermung again, who merely looked at him, still not saying anything.
Jackson felt Avar stir again, though strangely, he didn't say anything. Which nearly prompted Jackson to ask why before he caught himself. Memories were bubbling up. Ancient knowledge.
He ignored them and focused on Hector.
What is your quarrel with Sermung?
"Oh, that was, ah..." The kid raised his gauntleted hand as if to scratch his helmeted head. "We were just... sparring."
"Yes, that's it," added Sermung. "Sparring."
Why did that sound like bullshit?
The opponent zipped away across the aerial battlefield, peppering Sermung with a cloud of buzzing flakes. Like bugs? Jackson wasn't sure what to make of it.
Then Sermung finally seemed to notice him waiting there. The buzzing swarm around his head did not cease, even as the man raised a hand and waved. "Jackson! How long have you been there?"
Long enough to wonder what the hell you're doing.
Making the avatar actually speak would've required even more concentration; and it wasn't necessary in this case, because Sermung did not need to hear a voice in order to understand him.
"Oh, I'm just... ah... it doesn't matter. Tell me how you've been, my boy! It's been so long for you, hasn't it?"
It has. But not for you, yes? If you keep this up, I'll be older than you soon.
"Hah! Not likely, youngster!"
Back in his office, Jackson was shaking his head. This was the only man in the world who could say that to him.
The buzzing swarm around Sermung's head came to an abrupt stop, and Jackson noticed the armored stranger approach the two of them.
"Uh... you guys need a minute to talk?" said the stranger.
"Oh, no, you can keep attacking," said Sermung. "I can multitask."
"I'm... not gonna do that."
Who is this, Jackson wondered? And why are you fighting him in the middle of downtown Andeyal?
Rather than answering, however, Sermung merely turned to his former opponent.
"Oh, sorry," said the stranger. "I'm Hector Goffe of Atreya."
The fact that this young fellow could also understand him was enough to catch Jackson's attention.
"I'd, er... offer you a handshake, but... you're literally on fire, so..."
The avatar turned to Sermung again, who merely looked at him, still not saying anything.
Jackson felt Avar stir again, though strangely, he didn't say anything. Which nearly prompted Jackson to ask why before he caught himself. Memories were bubbling up. Ancient knowledge.
He ignored them and focused on Hector.
What is your quarrel with Sermung?
"Oh, that was, ah..." The kid raised his gauntleted hand as if to scratch his helmeted head. "We were just... sparring."
"Yes, that's it," added Sermung. "Sparring."
Why did that sound like bullshit?