As though the System reads my mind, my System Quest has another update waiting for me, one that appeared when I read the other notifications. A simple update, a small rollover of numbers.
System Quest Completion Rate: 90.1%
“Gods above and below…” I breathe the words, staggering to my feet as I prod at the notification. But there’s no further data to be had, just a simple notification. No more useful than a plain piece of paper.
Just a series of numbers.
Which change everything.
“I knew it.” My grin grows savage as I look around the Administrative Center, my smile widening. Gloating at my success. At the hope I can now grasp, which I thought lost. Lost, even though I dared not say so to Mikito. Or anyone else.
And then my face falls, for the library reminds me that my success, the knowledge I’ve extracted, is not unique. Other Questors have reached these heights. Others must have gotten this close. And to keep their secret, to protect their powers, the knowledge I’ve gleaned, the Administrators have enacted purges. Billions have perished to cover up this secret.
“How far will you go?” I repeat Mikito’s question out loud.
And for once, I have no answer. For my resolution is shaken.
***
I walk upstairs in the echoing silence of the Administrative Center, ignoring the unanswered question I leave behind, headed for the mezzanine. There’s nowhere else I’ve not seen, and rather importantly, I’m looking for information on the map. Tapping the details in the notification had not provided me further details, so I’m leaning toward the mezzanine having the answers.
The mezzanine, when I finally make it upstairs, is empty of everything but a gleaming silver console. I walk over to the console and frown, for it’s empty of buttons or markings.
I prod it with a finger, only to watch notifications bloom before me. But my eyes are glazed over, for I’m busy focusing on the Mana stream, the System information being displayed to me via my Skill.
Information about the facility, about the people who have used it, about the settings for the facility surrounding the Administrative Center. A slight touch of power extends the zone of exclusion. Another ensures that Ali and Mikito are allowed to work within that zone. I set a timer on this, before letting it revert to its previous settings.
My friends’ safety assured, I pull up further information. I find details on the zones in close proximity, information on monster Levels and aggression settings. Details about spawn rates, habitats, Mana flow to each of the species, unmarked Mana and System Mana inflow and outflow.
My lips twist in amusement as I make a few adjustments. The lure I deploy ensures Mikito will have something to do while I’m busy, the System-enforced shielding around the building giving her a safe place to rest when necessary.
Another focus of will, and I drop a note for her to read over Party Chat. It requires more effort to do so as I’m forced to bypass some of the safeguards in the Center, but being at the console, I’m finding I have more options. And one of them is a way to “spoof” my location to some extent. The manipulation wouldn’t hide itself from other Administrators, but it does make things like explaining what I’m doing to mundanes easier.
More importantly, as I stare at the console, I’m brought to focus on another aspect of my time in the previous center. I’d done a ton of work, gained a bunch of Levels, yet when I came out, it seemed only a few hours had passed. Like the Shop, the Administrative Centers each have time dilation effects, but the level varies and is, in general, significantly more powerful than most Shop time dilation effects.
Of course, I immediately try to adjust it. More time to train, more time to think, would be an advantage to me. But I hit a hard wall in the code as the System refuses to budge that number. Not for a simple Level 3 Administrative Center.
If I want a higher time dilation, I need to find an Administrative Center with a higher Security Rating. Which brings me to the last notification waiting for me.
I touch it, and information blazes into me. I crumple to the floor as nerves burn from Mana flooding into me along with the information. It’s as if the System is literally carving the information into my body with liquid fire.
Fingers clench and tremble, and I let out little whimpers as I spasm on the floor. I’m really beginning to hate being a System Administrator. Even if I’ve learnt to ignore the pain, the damage, it’s not fun. As pain finally recedes, I touch the imprinted information tentatively. And realize why the damn process hurt so badly.
The System Galaxy blooms in my mind in its entirety. Not just the planets, but the space in between too. There are even Administrative Centers in the deep reaches of space, places where swarms of space wraiths and leviathans float, asteroid-laden phantom stalkers and electric stingrays float on solar winds.
The empty vastness of space is not so empty, not with creatures such as those. And other, smaller, almost impossible-to-notice things. Clouds of creatures, as fine as dust, who exist upon Mana itself. These clouds float in the vastness of space, churning through unaffiliated Mana and creating System Mana.
I knew all this. Even fought some of these creatures in my time in the Galaxy. Now, with the galaxy map forming in my mind, I see the galaxy as the System sees it, and with it, the spaces that we, as Administrators, must care for.
In this map, I have the location of every Administrative Center I may journey to. And there are so many, so many for those with security clearances of three or lower. A single thought will show me any single spot, any single world, with full directions and a map of where to go.
“Couldn’t have just given me a damn paper map, could you?” I grumble, struggling to my feet.
I stare down my body, at the wet patch on the floor, and cast a Cleanse. Watching as blood and other unmentionables disappear. And I grin grimly.
For among all the information burned into me, there’s a single dot that glows. That burns, calling to me. A dot, an anomalous security clearance and a notification.
Administrative Center 14-1-1 (Security Access Level 1*)
A single place, the only one that I can access that is higher ranked than three. The asterisk in my Security Clearance. Located in the deepest regions of the Forbidden Zone, in the center of the System galaxy. Where planets should be overrun, destroyed by the pressure of unaffiliated Mana.
A lure. A goal. An objective.
On a planet full of dragons.
***
Once I’ve regained my bearings, I explore the security console further. There are more functionalities in the console, but for the most part, its aspects hold little interest to me. It does give me a deeper understanding of the System, of how it controls the flow of Mana. And it reinforces my belief, my understanding that the entire System is nothing more than a sieve.
Unaspected Mana goes in, aspected Mana comes out. Living creatures, matter, it all acts as a sieve. But creatures, living creatures, are better sieves than most, while sapients are the best. And the higher the Level, the better.
Titles, Levels, Classes, all of it are just a method for the System to push sapients to advance, grow, and become stronger to handle more Mana. There’s an aspect of sapient creatures—call it the soul, call it Mana saturation—that changes when people Level. When people push themselves. And in so doing, expand what they can hold.
It’s this aspect that the System wants to expand upon. And so Titles, Levels, Skills, spells. All of it, available to give everyone as much opportunity as possible. Experience is just a way for the System to judge growth and force it. The entire system is the most laisez faire capitalist system in the galaxy.
More than that, it’s also corrupted. For I can see the fingerprints of the Administrators all over it. Adjustments made by Senior and Junior Administrators to benefit one Class, one Skill, one person over another. Minor adjustments that pass the System’s verification. Galactic Council edicts that twist the—relatively minor—levers the System offers them to their benefit.