She sat on the damp grass in the shadow of abandoned warehouses. In her hand, something pulsed. She opened her palm to find it: a crystalline object, no larger than her thumb, faintly glowing with fractal lights. Alive.
She could feel the potential inside it — a womb of dimensions, a ship waiting to be born. A TARDIS unlike any other. But here, now, on Earth? She had nothing to grow it with. No Eye of Harmony, no power grid of a dying star, no Gallifreyan forges.
"I wonder, could I add magic to a TARDIS? That would be so cool, I think there was a-," the engineer thought before remembering how Time Lords react to magic-magical things
"Let's forget about magic for now. I should probably think about what type of TARDIS I should build."
"Or do you have anything to say about how you're build? I know a Tardis mind-soul is beyond time," she looked down on the seed
Her Chrono-Perception flickered. She saw brief flashes: her holding the seed years later, standing inside a massive console room, laughing as the walls pulsed with light. Saw herself crying into its core after nearly dying. Saw battles, escapes, and adventures all anchored to this seed.
"Whoa. Okay. So you're important." She set it gently on the table like it was an egg. "We'll figure you out. Eventually."
"I should probably name you, hmm." She looks at the omega symbol on her coat before looking back at the seed
"You now name omega! Hopefully, the Time Lord Omega doesn't get angry for using his name; he should still be locked up in the anti-matter universe."
[User Had Named The Tardis Seed-Omega]
[The Tardis Soul Loves The Name-Name Can't Be Changed Now]
The TARDIS seed. It pulsed faintly, black and violet like a heart of compressed storm.
She laughs softly, "Glad you like the name, now I guess we should get a house, lucky time lords are powerfully psychic
[Timeskip of the engineer and Omega looking at houses for sale]
The human mind was… soft. That was the first thing she noticed.
Not weak exactly, humans had teeth, claws, willpower—but their thoughts weren't armored like hers. Time Lords wrapped their skulls in labyrinths, their souls in paradoxes. Even their dreams had corridors you could get lost in. Humans? They were open floor plans. Walk in the front door, look around, steal the TV, leave.
She wanted a house. Somewhere to put the TARDIS seed when she figured out how to grow it. Somewhere with walls, a roof, a lock. Normal people worked jobs, saved money, and begged banks. She wasn't normal.
"Alright, System," she whispered, crouched on the curb outside a For Sale sign. The neighborhood was old brick, sagging porches, and rain stains on every window. "Let's cheat."
[New Skill Activated: Hypnotic Command.]
[Sub-Skill: Suggestion.]
[ Energy Cost: 3 Chrono-Units per use.]
The system's blunt words blinked in her mind. No flashing UI, no sounds. Just text in the dark.
She stood, dusted her coat, and walked up the path. A man was outside, fumbling with a cigarette. Bald patch on his scalp, sweat stains under his shirt. He looked tired. Seller, she guessed. She didn't even need the sign in the yard. He had the look of a man who needed out.
Perfect.
"Hello there!" she said, cheerful, bouncing up the porch like a college kid selling cookies. "You the one selling this place?"
He eyed her. "Yeah. You interested?"
She smiled. Too wide. Humans thought she was quirky when she did that. They never realized it was a predator's grin.
"I'm more than interested." Her voice softened, dropping into the low hum of her psychic centers warming up. The world shimmered faintly around her temples, colors bending just enough to matter. "In fact, you're going to give me the house."
His cigarette paused halfway to his lips. He blinked once. Twice. "I… am going to give you… the house."
"Exactly." She leaned closer, voice silk and steel. "No contracts. No banks. You'll sign it over to me, nice and clean. And when you walk away, you'll be happy. Relieved. You'll barely even remember my face."
She felt the push as her mind pressed into his. It wasn't just words—it was gravity. Her will fell into his skull like a black hole, bending his neurons around it.
For a moment, resistance. A flicker of human stubbornness. He opened his mouth, maybe to say What the hell are you talking about? But she pushed harder.
The psychic wave surged.
[Mind Control Success: 82%.]
[Remaining Willpower Detected.]
"Shh," she whispered, putting one finger against his temple. "Don't fight. Fighting makes it hurt."
His eyes went glassy. His breath slowed. The system's words blinked again:
Target subdued. Suggestion locked.
She pulled back, releasing the grip just enough for him to stay upright. His cigarette dropped, smoldering on the porch.
"There we go." She clapped her hands once, sharply. "Now then. Let's sign some papers."
The actual process was almost boring. Humans loved their paperwork. She sat across from him at his kitchen table while he shuffled through documents. Every time his doubt started to twitch—why am I doing this? Who is she?—she whispered another command. Another push.
"You're happy to do this."
"This feels right."
"You want to walk away free."
Each time, his mind folded. Paper in the rain.
She skimmed the contract like it was a menu. Title deeds, mortgage releases, numbers that meant nothing to her. She didn't need them. All she needed was his signature in the right place. When the pen scraped across the last page, she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
[Acquisition Complete: Property Ownership (Legally Recognized).]
The system didn't bother congratulating her. No fanfare. Just the blunt fact.
She leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms over her head. "Well, look at that. I'm a homeowner. The American Dream—without the loan sharks."
The seller blinked at her, half-dazed. "I'm… free now, right?"
"Completely." She smiled, soft this time. Almost kind. "You don't even need to remember me."
His face slackened. Confusion fogged into nothing. He stood, mumbled something about catching a bus, and walked out the door without a backward glance.
She sat alone at the table, staring at the deed in her hand. For a moment, guilt scratched at the edges of her thoughts. Was it fair? Ethical? She had just hijacked a man's will, bent him like a puppet, and stolen his house.
"Mine now," she said, grinning again.
The house itself was old, creaking, tired. Wallpaper peeling like dead skin. Floors groaning. But to her, it was perfect. A shell. A seedbed.
She walked from room to room, trailing her fingers against the walls. Every nail, every brick, every wire—she saw the timeline bleeding off it. The house had memories. Families laughing, fighting, sleeping. Decades of echoes. She drank them in.
In the kitchen, she found a mirror above the sink. She paused. Looked.
The mortal shell smiled back. But in the corner of her eye, the true form bled through—fractals shifting, stars blinking. She tilted her head. The reflection tilted a heartbeat late.
"You're going to help me build something bigger," she whispered to the empty air. "Something they'll remember."
The system answered.
[New Base Established: Safehouse.]
[Possible Upgrades Available: Dimensional Reinforcement, Psychic Shielding, Cloaking Field.]
"Oh," she breathed. "Now we're talking."
She dropped onto the old couch, kicking her boots onto the coffee table. The deed was still in her hand. She waved it at the ceiling like a trophy.
"Step one: steal house. Step two: conquer time. I'm killing it today."
She opened up one of the system gifts.
System Gift: Engineer's Codex (Basic)
Pages shifted when she blinked. Text wrote itself in languages she half-knew, half-remembered, half-stole from other lives. It didn't matter. Her mind drank it down like fire.
[Time Lords perk: Learning Speed x500.]
[Retention: Perfect.]
She skimmed once. Knew it forever. Skimmed again. Built a blueprint in her head.
"Alright… so this is the IKEA manual for god-machines. Step one: don't die building your TARDIS. Step two: good luck."
She looks at the window. London rainwater warped her reflection. Not human.Her eyes. Her skin—flesh only because she forced it. The puddle rippled and her true form stared back: nebula veins, shifting fractals, black hole flickers under skin. She leaned closer, grinning.
"I look like a nightmare Picasso painted while drunk. Cute."
The Codex pulsed in her lap. Pages glowing.
She thought about the Doctor's box. Too small. Too polite. She wanted something hers. Gothic spires? Warship aesthetic? Or something stranger?
"System. Question time."
[Listening.]
"Any blueprints for empires that mixed tech and magic? Not 'screwdrivers and robes'—I mean real integration. Arcane engines. Runes that run like circuit boards. That vibe."
Silence. Then text burned across her vision.
Query: Magic-Tech Civilizations.
Results Found: 7.
Elyssar Dominion — fusion of divine architecture and temporal machinery.
Chrono-Arcanum Collective — spell matrices bound to quantum processors.
The Old Gallifreyan Orders — before rationality purged the craft.
Cult of the Aetherforge — living ships made of bound spirits and alloy.
[REDACTED BY System Creator] — forbidden, unstable.
The Magi-Technocracy of the Endless Spiral.
Death's Forge — Empire of Necrotech, banned from timelines.
Her grin widened. "Oh, now we're cooking."
The puddle shifted. Her nebula self leaned back, almost smirking with her. She tapped the Codex like it was a game controller.
"Alright, Omega seed. Let's get weird."
The first morning in her new life did not feel like a morning at all. It felt like she was still falling. Her mortal body breathed, her heart hammered, but behind her ribs burned the hum of something that did not belong to flesh: the thrum of the Time Vortex.
clutching her chest as though it might burst. The walls seemed too thin, the bed too fragile, reality itself stretched like paper around her. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, terrifying.
[System: Power Calibration in Progress.]
[Unlocked: Chrono-Perception.]
[Unlocked: Temporal Instinct.]
"Holy hell," she whispered. "I can… hear time?"
It wasn't hearing exactly. It was like watching dominoes falling before anyone had touched them, feeling the ripple of choices spreading across seconds yet to arrive. She reached for a glass on the bedside table—and caught herself knowing it would slip if she used her left hand. So she used her right. The glass didn't fall.
Her laugh cracked sharply in the quiet. "Oh, this is dangerous."
She spent the next hours running experiments like a kid with new toys. She dropped coins just to watch the way their futures spun out in multiple probabilities, like silver threads. She flicked one, caught it before it hit the ground, and felt reality itself sigh in relief that she had chosen the correct version.
The System interrupted often, but only with blunt, curt text.
[Skill Growth: Probability Awareness.]
[Passive: Weakness Detection.]
[Warning: Overuse strains mortal neural tissue.]
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, eyes flashing violet. "I'll stop when my brain leaks out of my ears. Until then—science!"
She grabbed a notebook. Pages filled with diagrams: spirals, timelines, branching choices. The pen raced faster than her hand should have allowed, because she was already remembering the words she hadn't written yet. By the end, she had scrawled formulas no human mathematician had ever seen, fragments of Gallifreyan looping script burned into the margins.
Her head pounded. Nosebleed. She grinned through it. "Worth it."
"System," she mumbled. "What's the point of all this? Why me?"
For once, no blunt text appeared. No answer.
She just sighs. "Figures. You're just like a teacher who only writes red X's in the margin but never explains the lesson."
Her body ached, her brain buzzed with futures, but beneath it all she felt… alive. Alive in a way she never had been as a human. The universe was terrifying, incomprehensible—but now she had teeth. Now she could bite back.
She needed to test her physical limits, not just her mind. She changed into her only outfit: a gothic trenchcoat, black pants, and boots, clicking on the cracked pavement. The Omega symbols stitched into her coat seemed to glow faintly when her eyes glowed with power.
She ran. Faster than she thought she could. Her body was lean, but her true advantage was the way her mind moved: she remembered every footfall a second before she made it, every muscle twitch already anticipated. She leapt a fence and didn't stumble, because she had already seen herself do it.
She skidded to a halt, panting, exhilarated.
[Stat Increase: Agility.]
[Stat Increase: Dexterity.]
"God, I'm going to get addicted to this," she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow.
She tested combat next. She had no formal training—at least, not yet. She shadowboxed in the alley. Her punches were sloppy, but Chrono-Perception compensated. She moved wrong in ways that somehow ended up right, like a glitching puppet skipping frames. Her fists landed exactly where an enemy's weak point would be.
==============================
End
Wordcount-2165 next chapter is going to be about her finding a way to time travel.