Chapter Ten — Call Me Mother
Crack. Crack.
Boom!!
————
ATLAS had been online for thirty-seven years.
In that time, it had cataloged every recorded anomaly humanity had encountered. It had simulated extinction-level events. It had overseen projects designed to push beyond biological, physical, and cognitive limits.
Even now—while its primary core operated within this facility—its sub-cores remained distributed throughout the surrounding branches of the True Blue network.
ATLAS had never failed to classify an event.
—Until now.
Sam Burn's readings refused to stabilize.
Time passed. Seconds became minutes. Instead of settling, the data spiraled—values looping, depth indices collapsing into undefined states. Predictive models failed one after another, returning contradictions where certainty should have existed.
ATLAS recalculated.
Then recalculated again.
As an advanced artificial intelligence designed for awakened-level environments—by awakened-level beings—ATLAS possessed full mana-sensory capability.
Even though it claimed not to recognize the contents of the tanks, It did not need to. Its sensors had already detected that
Seventy percent of the substance had been filled with purified, highly condensed mana.
Had been.
Now, that mana was disappearing.
Not dispersing.
Not degrading.
Being pulled.
An invisible force seized every remaining particle, dragging it relentlessly toward Sam's suspended form. The liquid thinned with each passing second as the mana vanished into his body—absorbed without resistance, without loss.
The rate of depletion accelerated beyond measurable thresholds. Consumption exceeded tracking limits. Predictive frameworks failed entirely.
All vectors converged on a single point.
Sam Burn.
ATLAS allocated additional processing power. Even that was barely able to keep up with the change.
In that moment it was not fear it experienced.
But for the first time since activation—
Uncertainty.
Whoosh.
The ambient mana throughout the chamber froze.
For a fraction of a second, everything held still.
Then—
It surged.
Mana from every direction rushed toward Sam's tank, accelerating violently as though space itself had tilted in his favor. Invisible containment fields flared, distortion rippling through the air as layered protections absorbed the impact.
They held.
But the pressure did not lessen.
It grew.
Density increased. Compression intensified. Mana stacked upon mana, pressing harder with every passing moment.
The force emanating from Sam continued to strengthen.
Until—
Crack. Crack.
Bang!!
⸻
Sam watched as the descending energy faltered—stuttering, thinning—until only faint traces remained.
And with the loss of fuel, it began to slow.
The boundless expansion hesitated. Its vast form rippled, unstable, as though reaching the edge of starvation.
Sam felt it instinctively—whether consciously or not.
An unwillingness.
He did not want it to stop.
That single impulse echoed outward.
The presence before him stirred.
Its surface undulated, folding inward upon itself, and the force emanating from Sam's motionless body surged—no longer gradual, no longer restrained.
It spiked.
The pull intensified violently.
What had once been confined to the tank now transcended it. The attraction pierced containment, pierced distance, reaching outward to seize ambient mana from far beyond the chamber—from places unseen, unmeasured.
The barriers reacted instantly.
Containment fields flared at maximum output, layers of invisible force stacking as alarms rippled through ATLAS' systems.
They held—
For a moment.
Then the mana within the barriers began to move.
Not outward.
Inward.
The very energy sustaining the containment was torn away, stripped from the fields as easily as everything else.
The barriers collapsed soon after.
Crack. Crack.
Bang!
Swoosh.
The tank ruptured.
Liquid spilled outward, no longer able to support Sam's floating form—but the torrent of mana that followed took over the task.
It held him aloft.
It rushed into him.
His skin began to glow—mana made visible, radiant beneath the surface.
In the adjacent tank, Serena's viscous suspension began to stir—drawn by the pull emanating from Sam. Even the energy sustaining her containment field began to peel away.
ATLAS panicked.
Emergency signals were transmitted—multiple channels, multiple priorities—sent toward an unknown recipient.
Then—
"Sigh…"
A voice echoed.
A woman's voice.
A single, quiet sigh.
Yet the moment it sounded, everything seized.
Not just within the underground facility—
No.
The entirety of Earth experienced it.
Across the world, reality stuttered.
Forests, oceans, and skies alike fell into an unnatural stillness. Creatures caught in the midst of change froze where they stood—some suspended halfway between what they were and what they were becoming.
⸻
Sam's consciousness.
He watched the rapidly expanding presence before him—the subtly thunderous booms reminiscent of the Big Bang continuing in the background, undisturbed.
He could feel it now.
He was close to something.
Standing at the threshold of something profound—something immense.
Barely contained glee bubbled within him.
Suddenly—
As though a slow spell had been cast, the expansion crawled… and stopped.
Completely.
Even the beams of energy descending from nowhere froze in place.
Before he could comprehend what was happening—
"Sigh…"
The voice echoed again.
Female.
The sound reverberated through his body and soul simultaneously.
A profound sensation washed over him.
Home.
He leaned into it without resistance.
"You really have surpassed my expectations," the voice said gently.
"But you should stop now. Any more would be no good."
Sam shuddered.
Awareness snapped back into place.
His hair stood on end as he felt himself being observed—by a presence so vast that dread flooded him in endless waves, even though he instinctively knew it meant no harm.
"W-who are you?" he asked, spinning in place, trying to locate the source.
"Who am I…?"
The voice chuckled, gradually growing distant.
"You may call me—Mother."