The transition from the physical world to the Ethereal Forge was not a movement through space, but a shedding of layers. Einstein felt the weight of his clothes vanish, then the sensation of his skin, and finally the very concept of "up" and "down." He was no longer a man standing on a city; he was a consciousness suspended in a realm of pure, mathematical light.
The First Disciple was gone. In her place was a vast, infinite horizon of shifting geometric shapes—golden gears the size of planets grinding against crystalline fractals that pulsed with the rhythm of a universal heartbeat. This was the source code of reality, the workshop where the fundamental constants of the universe were tuned.
"So," a voice echoed, vibrating through Einstein's very essence. "The Tenth Heir arrives without his crown. Brave. Or perhaps just foolish."
Einstein "looked" toward the voice. Standing on a bridge of solidified light was a figure that shifted constantly. One moment it was an old blacksmith, the next a shimmering nebula, and finally, it settled into a form Einstein recognized with a pang of grief: His Grandfather.
"Grandfather?" Einstein whispered, his voice sounding like a chime in the thin air.
"I am the Memory of the Maker," the figure said, stepping forward. "The man you knew was just a fragment. This is the place where the Jacob line was forged. You have come to fix the 'Decay,' but do you understand what the Decay truly is?"
The Cost of Stability
The Maker waved a hand, and the fractals around them shifted to show the billions of humans on Earth. To Einstein's eyes, they appeared as glowing embers, but each one was plagued by a tiny, flickering shadow at the core of their cells.
"The Sun-God Seal was never meant for the many, Einstein," the Maker explained. "It was a concentrated essence, a high-voltage current designed to power a single, heroic line. By open-sourcing the patents, you've tried to run a global power grid off a single battery. The 'Decay' isn't a mistake; it's the universe's way of saying the current is too thin."
"I won't take it back," Einstein said, his resolve hardening. "I won't let them die just to satisfy the 'logic' of the universe."
"Then you must offer a New Conductor," the Maker said. "The Forge can stabilize the mutation rate, but it requires a physical anchor—a soul that is willing to stay here and act as the regulator for the entire species. You wouldn't be a King, Einstein. You would be a Filter."
The Trial of Regret
Before Einstein could answer, the Forge began to change. The golden gears stopped grinding and began to glow with a sickly, violet light. The environment shifted from a celestial workshop to a dark, rainy alleyway in London.
"To be the Filter, you must first be purged," the Maker's voice boomed. "Face your regrets, Pilgrim. If they consume you, the Decay becomes permanent."
Einstein found himself standing in front of the old delivery bike. He could smell the exhaust and the wet asphalt. Across the street, he saw himself—the "Unproductive" Einstein—kneeling in the mud, being laughed at by Bradley Jr. and the Sterling Group directors.
"You hated being small," a shadow-version of Einstein whispered, stepping out of the rain. This version was draped in the 25th-level Sovereign light, cold and arrogant. "You hated the silence. You loved the power because it meant no one could ever look down on you again. And now, you're here to save them? The people who spit on you?"
Einstein watched his past self struggle. He felt the phantom sting of every insult and the hollow ache of the years he spent being "nothing." The shadow-Sovereign raised a hand, and the 25th-level energy flared.
"Why fix the Decay?" the shadow asked. "Let the weak fade. Let the ones who didn't struggle disappear. We can build a new world of Sovereigns here, in the Forge. Just you, me, and the infinite."
Einstein looked at the shadow. He didn't feel anger; he felt a profound, human pity.
"I didn't hate being small," Einstein said quietly. "I hated being alone. The power was just a tool to find my way back to the people who mattered. If I stay here to be the Filter, I'm alone again. But if it means Felicity and Elara get to live... then the trade is fair."
The shadow-Sovereign screamed, its form dissolving into white mist. The rainy alley vanished, and Einstein was back on the bridge of light.
The Silicon War on Earth
While Einstein faced his ghosts, the Earth was falling into chaos. In New York, Cyrus Vane stood on a balcony overlooking a city that was beginning to panic. News of the "Jacob Decay" had leaked to every major network, and the "Atropos Patch" was being marketed as the only salvation.
"The first symptoms are appearing in the elderly," Cyrus said into his comms. "Minor cellular tremors. Just enough to cause a tremor in their hands. It's perfect. Fear is the best salesman."
Rhea and Felicity were in the Aegis Hub command center, watching the global panic. They were under a full-scale corporate siege. Atropos Systems had filed "Biological Endangerment" lawsuits against every Jacob-Vanguard charity, freezing their remaining assets.
"He's choking the world's hope," Felicity said, her eyes red from lack of sleep. "And we can't reach Einstein."
"We don't need to reach him," Elara said, her violet eyes glowing as she stared at the Hub's core. "Einstein didn't just go to the Forge to find a cure. He went to Change the Frequency. Rhea, get the broadcast towers ready. When the signal comes, it won't be data. It'll be a heartbeat."
The Forge's Final Choice
Back in the Forge, the Maker stood before a massive, glowing anvil. "You have defeated your regret. But now comes the 'Principal.' To stabilize the species, you must merge your 'New Human' DNA with the Forge's core. You will lose your physical body. You will become the Global Immune System."
Einstein walked to the anvil. He thought of Felicity's smile. He thought of the £45.50 in his bank account. He thought of the simple joy of fixing a leaky faucet. He was giving up his life to save a world that might never even know he existed.
"Wait," Einstein said, his hand hovering over the anvil. "If I am the Filter, I am the one who decides the frequency, correct?"
"In essence, yes," the Maker replied.
"Then I don't need to stay here," Einstein said, a new light dawning in his eyes. "I don't need to be the regulator. I just need to Sync the System."
Einstein didn't lay himself on the anvil. He took the small, rusted iron box from his pocket—the one the First Disciple had given him. He placed it on the anvil.
"The box is empty because it was never meant to hold the Seal," Einstein said. "It was meant to hold the Standard. Grandfather didn't want me to be a God. He wanted me to be the Benchmark."
Einstein struck the box with his fist. Not with Sovereign power, but with the raw, rhythmic force of his own human heart.
The Forge didn't consume him. It Resonated. The golden gears and the planet-sized fractals began to pulse in time with Einstein's heartbeat. The violet light of the Decay was bleached white by the frequency of a man who was perfectly content being mortal.
The Jacob-Pulse
On Earth, every person who had received the Jacob Dividend felt a sudden, cooling sensation in their chest. The tremors stopped. The cellular "Decay" didn't just stabilize; it Harmonized.
The Atropos Patch became obsolete in a single second. The technology Cyrus Vane had banked his entire empire on was now useless noise against the "Jacob-Pulse" emanating from the very earth itself.
In the Aegis Hub, Elara screamed with joy. "He did it! He didn't just fix the code—he turned the planet into the Seal! The Forge is broadcasting through the Jacob-Resonance!"
Cyrus Vane watched as his stock prices plummeted to zero. His monitors turned white, showing a single, scrolling message: [REPAYMENT COMPLETE. THE ACCOUNT IS BALANCED.]
"No..." Cyrus whispered, his glasses shattering from the sheer frequency of the pulse. "He was supposed to be a martyr. He wasn't supposed to win without being there!"
The Return of the Pilgrim
The Forge began to fade. Einstein felt his body reforming, the weight of the air returning, the smell of the salt Atlantic filling his lungs. He opened his eyes and found himself standing on the roof of the Aegis Hub.
He was exhausted. His clothes were singed, and he felt a hundred years older, but his heart was beating with a steady, human rhythm.
Felicity ran to him, nearly knocking him over. "Einstein! You're back! The pulse... everyone is safe! The Decay is gone!"
Einstein held her tight, his face buried in her hair. "I didn't have to stay," he whispered. "I just had to show them how to beat the clock."
He looked at his hands. They were scarred and tired, but they were his. He pulled out his phone. It was cracked and dead, but for a fleeting second, the screen flickered with a single notification from his old bank app.
Current Balance: £0.00
He had truly given it all away. Not just the trillions, not just the godhood, but the very last of the "Principal."
He was Einstein Jacob. A man with no money, no powers, and a wife who loved him.
"Let's go home, Felicity," he said, leaning on her as they walked toward the elevator. "I have a faucet to fix, and I think I'm finally ready for a weekend off."
But as they descended, the First Disciple appeared one last time in the reflection of the elevator doors. She didn't speak, but she gave a small, almost invisible nod of approval.
The Tenth Heir had done what no other King of the North had ever achieved: He had made the throne unnecessary.