Progenitor's Burden

Prologue

In the depths of space, two dragons desperately steered their vessel toward the central planet of the System Architects. "Fly swifter, my love. They're closing in." Kafor urged his mate, Heroti, through their telepathic bond, "We're too close to fail now." Legend claimed that those who reached this elusive sanctuary might be bestowed a precious boon, and after endless years of running, the Elemental Dragons were desperate to finally escape the shadows of persecution looming over them.

Navigating past the final planet of the system, the elusive sanctuary they sought came into view. As they drifted through the expanse, a colossal detonation erupted behind them, an entire moon ripping apart into coronas of rock and—briefly, before being snuffed out by vacuum—flame. Their latest refuge was now annihilated, but the trap they had laid, anticipating their pursuers' movement, appeared to have been successful.

When they had drawn close and initiated scanning the moon, the unsuspecting scout ships would have triggered the countdown. Five minutes later—enough time for the rear guard of the predatory fleet to pass the initial explosive—the series of strategically placed antimatter bombs, nested in piles of fuel rods, exploded. It was fitting revenge to take against the relentless pirates who had already killed so many of their kind for their valuable heart cores. "Justice served." Kafor mused with grim satisfaction.

Yet, the victory was bittersweet. Their predicament was no less pressing. They had insufficient fuel to reach an alternative system, and they had nearly depleted their arsenal of weapons setting that trap. They were left with two choices: they could only make a desperate final stand at this juncture, detonating their vessel in a blaze of defiance if cornered, or . . .

Drawing nearer to the planet, a vast continent began to take shape, its majestic cityscape visible even from space. The planet was lit up with so much energy it was painful to look at for long. As they continued their descent, they passed between enormous, imposing skyscrapers that reached up from the planet's surface and pierced through the atmosphere.

"I've lost control of the ship", gasped Heroti, grappling with the controls, "I think we're being guided to a landing zone". Beneath them sat a monumental metal platform, a necessity given the size of a ship built to take dragons.

Hearts racing, they made their way to the hangar bay. "I–I'm not sure what to expect", spoke Heroti, clearly weighed down by the uncertainty of the situation.

"We have no more options." Kafor responded, readying himself to step out onto the alien world. This was, unmistakably, a pivotal juncture in their existence. Their destiny, for better or worse, would soon be revealed.

(Decades, centuries, millenia later, there were days they would reminisce about that very instant, sometimes grappling with the ghost of doubt, pondering if they could've chosen a different path. But every shared sunrise, every glance exchanged between them, swiftly dissolved such musings, reminding them of the invaluable bond they had managed to safeguard during the ensuing negotiations.)

Stepping off the ship, they were immediately approached by an autonomous robotic entity, ready to escort them. . . somewhere. Once they neared the robot it turned and started rolling forward with deliberate grace toward an adjacent hangar.

Uncertain—but intrigued—they trailed behind it. The world unfurling around them was breathtaking in its meticulous precision. This immaculate orderliness, a stark departure from the unpredictability they were accustomed to, was awe-inspiring—and slightly unsettling. Elemental Dragons inherently understood the rhythm of chaos, and its conspicuous and absolute absence left them feeling unbalanced. Entropy was the natural result of life impacting on the equilibrium of reality, yet this realm seemed to defy that very law.

Kafor and Heroti were guided into an enormous hanger-esque hall, filled with a vast table, around which sat four beings, each from a different unknown race. "A council, maybe a governing body?" Heroti transmitted to Kafor, leading one of the figures to raise an eyebrow.

Shocked, Heroti responded. "Can they hear our telepathy?" She and her mate approached with measured steps, aware that anyone in such a position here warranted utmost respect.

Heroti opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the figure on the far right. "Kafor, of the Elemental Dragons, Clan Werbatrox. Heroti, of the Elemental Dragons, Clan Werbatrox. We know who you are, and we understand your reasons for seeking us. Given what you know of the Architect, explain why it should extend its assistance to you?"

Caught off-guard by the directness, Heroti shot a quick, uncertain glance toward Kafor. He gently prompted, "Speak, my love. In this place, straightforwardness might be our best approach. Whatever happens, remember I stand by you."

His unwavering support reassured her; a warmth enveloping Heroti's heart. With a deep breath, she began recounting the highlights of their tale.

Concluding her plea, Heroti's voice was desperate but determined. "We are amongst the last of our kind. We understand the value placed upon our cores, yet our existence offers the System value in so many ways. We are prepared to serve in any capacity deemed appropriate." She stepped back, instinctively seeking Kafor's comforting presence.

As a second council member leaned forward, their gaze intense and searching. " In any way the Architect deems 'appropriate.' Do both of you genuinely share this sentiment?"

Kafor, standing firm beside Heroti, replied, "Yes, absolutely. As long as we remain side by side, we are prepared to offer any service in exchange for protection against those who seek to destroy us for our cores."

The council members went silent. Every second dragged on, amplifying the weight of uncertainty. Then, in unison, they exchanged a nod. A third, previously silent council member leaned in to loudly declare, "Undertake this quest; all that you wish shall be granted."

Abruptly, a digital quest menu materialized before them.

Quest: Seeing the Unknown

Description: Venture forth into time's vast expanse, disseminating the influence of The Architect, guided by his wisdom and mandate.

Rewards: Not specified

It was the most sparse quest description they had ever seen, despite the scope. The lack of rewards or incentives was also . . . unusual. Nevertheless, given their circumstances, they perceived this as their best shot—a glimmer of hope amidst despair.

They clasped hands and mentally clicked on the 'accept' button.

All they felt was pain.

Only a moment could have passed, but that level of agony had felt endless within it, so consuming that it bordered on the profound. As it subsided,they reopened their eyes, their perspective having shifted dramatically. Turning to face each other, they took in their transformed appearances. In their DragonKin forms, they more closely mirrored human—bipeds adorned with gleaming scales.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As questions swirled within their eyes, the final councilor addressed them, standing to depart. "Outside awaits a vessel. Board it and heed the instructions presented. Further directives outlining your missions will be sent to you in due course. We wish you . . . fortitude." As each council member stood, their form vanished, leaving the pair in silence.

*****

Outside, their original vessel was gone. In its place sat a sleeker, significantly more compact craft. Its design was modern, streamlined, and noticeably different from their old ship. As they boarded, they were met with an interior that was equally unfamiliar, but extraordinarily advanced.

Every inch of the ship's interior exuded a sense of advanced technological prowess. Heroti and Kafor took their time exploring each corner, every control and interface, repeatedly reminding themselves that this vessel would be their sanctuary and base from now on; perhaps it would be their home as long as they remained alive. .

Securing themselves into the pilot seats, their fingers interlocked. As the engines hummed to life and the ship ascended, they cast one last glance at the planet they were leaving behind. They were safe now, they hoped.

*****

Millennia passed.

*****

Once, they had been overjoyed to be free, to no longer be hunted. Later, they had merely appreciated that they were together, as there was little more they wanted. All that time, the fates of trillions upon trillions were changed by their actions, and the results of their actions weighed on them more heavily with each planet they departed.

Immortals—for that was, now, what they knew themselves to be—have to find joy in the small things. Lately, they had taken to playing around with the system interfaces, seeing how much they could tweak without repercussions. When the Architect had built the System, it had been made in such a way that it was largely governed by one's willpower. If you wanted to change the layout, you just wished it to be so. If you wanted your logs to automatically scroll, you just decided that was what would happen. If you had insufficient willpower—rare—or the System didn't like it—slightly less rare—nothing happened. It was, as the humans of their next planet would have called it, a 'sandbox' system.

Said next planet was one they looked forward to reaching. They had big plans for the world and its seed. Their extensive familiarity with the world seed—sometimes known as the progenitor seed—had allowed them to carry out some ingenious editing, resulting in some of the universal limits being removed.

Ahead of them the planet, named Earth by its inhabitants, grew closer. Kafor and Heroti knew they had little to no control over the actual commencement of the conversion process. It was a constant and would happen, no matter what actions they might take to prevent it.

The process was always—always—the same. A 'chosen being', determined by some mysterious algorithm, would receive a 'seed.' Once implanted, the seed scanned the individual from the inside, mapping both the physiological and the quasi-ethereal, somehow discerning not only the attributes but the potential possibility-space inherent to the species. The seed always—always—consumed the so-called 'chosen being', eradicating the original form to create a foundational template that would dictate the world's transformation.

Not this time.

Their tweaks to the process had a distinct objective: rather than consume the chosen host, their goal was to evolve it, facilitating a rapid advancement for its entire race. They had made the decision to try this after endless conversations had led them to the conclusion that a single being, empowered by the full might of the seed, might eventually challenge the very system that had shackled them for so long.

Kafor and Heroti were immortals, that is true, but they were not immune to the passage of time. While eternity is a minor concern especially when shared with one's soulmate, the yearning for freedom persists. Regardless of the duration, being confined was a cage they sought to escape.

The planet's scans painted a picture of a thriving, teeming population. Such exuberant proliferation was typical of this species; their zest for life (and procreation) was manifested in their prolific numbers. With such a large population, the wait for the seed's 'beneficiary' would be agonizing. Eventually, it came:

System Message - Suitable Target Located

A system notification appeared in their visual field, pinpointing a candidate. Now, they could begin.

*****

Kafor and Heroti always enjoyed flying down into backwater worlds and seeing who they could tease. It had become a rite of tradition that Heroti would look over to her partner, let out a small chuckle, and teleport some farmers' cows away. They would wait until they could enjoy the payoff: she getting to see the farmer's disbelief and incredulous facial expressions, him getting to see her face light up.

Soon they came to the edge of a small town, Barstown. Their vessel came to an abrupt, but silent halt, fully cloaked. In front of them was a two-story farmhouse, isolated from view and with no neighbors nearby. There was not much to see.

"I'm nervous, Kafor. What if it doesn't work? What if the Architect discovers what we're doing?" Heroti spoke, quietly.

With a gentle sigh, Kafor responded.. "Oh, it knows. The chance of it not knowing is close to zero. But it doesn't care, because it thinks we are helpless. It thinks we will fail; that we'll have to seed someone else with a standard seed, wait our allotted time, and then move on. It's not as if we will be punished for the failure of a seed, even the normal seeds fail occasionally."

Heroti placed her bony forehead against his. "As always, you're right. Let's get this done." Bitterly, she added, sotto voce, "Let's ruin someone's life as much as ours was."

Holding hands, they mused on their existence. The cost of their safety had been the sealing of their power, severely limiting them. It had taken time to learn more mundane methods of even the most basic actions. After near endless years, their skills were honed to perfection, allowing them to silently navigate through the dwelling without a trace. As they moved, as silent as the night itself, they arrived at the bedroom.

With her limited energy pool, Heroti expanded her aura and created an invisible barrier around the room. The barrier would insulate the room from external noises, ensuring the undisturbed slumber of the man before them, and preventing others from hearing any noise he made during the immediate discomfort of insertion.

Kafor gently folded back the covers, revealing a youthful and muscular chest, sprinkled with tufts of hair.

In turn, Heroti took the seed and delicately placed it just above the young man's heart. Together, they began the Incantation of Joining, a ritual they had performed countless times and a catalyst that told the seed to begin its work. Drawing deep upon the energy it held, courtesy of the System, the seed began its intricate dance of integration.

Ethereal tendrils unfurled silken strands, reminiscent of a spider's intricate web, that reached deep into the man's physique, latching onto neural pathways, blood vessels, muscles, and even the skeletal structure. Methodically and inexorably, the seed used these threads to draw itself inward, ultimately nestling next to the heart. What followed wasn't for the faint hearted.

Later, the process complete, all that was left was a scar, designed to resemble constellations—or other symbolic patterns—hinting at the potential abilities, or traits, of the newly-seeded individual. They had come up with this aesthetic feature themselves, thinking it might serve as a beneficial marker in the days to come.

Leaving the scene behind, Heroti and Kafor retreated toward their ship, pausing momentarily to admire the night sky stretched out above them. The universe's beauty was a poignant reminder, to them, of their own entwined fates—a love that continued to endure throughout incessant challenges.

Upon reboarding, they piloted the ship out through the atmosphere and immediately began preparations to deploy the dimensional space attachments. These constructs were vital: they would form a network of dungeons and 'zones' that the inhabitants of the planet would need to use to adapt to their newfound capabilities and evolve them into ever greater abilities.

Amidst their swirling thoughts, there was one unwavering certainty: their bond. Together, they had weathered countless storms, and both of them clung to the belief that, side by side, they could endure any challenge the cosmos might throw their way.

*****

Back in the farmhouse bedroom, the process was continuing its work. The man's body underwent extreme and painful alterations to accommodate the seed, a not-insignificant object lodged within his ribcage. In his sleep, the man tossed and turned, moaning, as the shield Heroti had placed did its work to keep all noise within the room.

As the seed continued its work, it meticulously adapted and prepared the man's biological system for the introduction of magical and cultivation abilities. As the initial phases completed, the man quietened and the shield, work done, faded away.

All that was left was a soft crimson luminescence emanating from the progenitor's chest, a sign of the seed's ceaseless activity.