The Lake District was a place where time seemed to fold in on itself. For three years, the ivy-covered cottage had been Einstein Jacob's world. His hands, once used to shatter titanium doors and redirect stellar energy, were now calloused from laying slate and pruning heirloom apple trees. He had become a master of the "Minor Arts"—the rhythm of the seasons, the temperature of the soil, and the exact moment a fermentation reached its peak.
To the local villagers, he was simply "Ewan," a quiet man with a brilliant wife who occasionally helped the local school with its computer systems. No one suspected that the man who hauled wood in an old wheelbarrow was the catalyst for the greatest biological transformation in the history of the species.
But the world outside the hills was no longer the world Einstein had left. The "Jacob-Pulse" had settled into the global bedrock. Every child born now arrived with the "Dividend" in their blood—perfect immunity, accelerated healing, and a baseline of physical potential that made the Olympic athletes of the old world look like statues.
The Ripple in the Lake
On a crisp October morning, the mirror-still surface of the lake was broken by a boat that Einstein didn't recognize. He stood on the shore, his sleeves rolled up, watching as a young girl, perhaps seventeen, rowed with a frantic, uneven rhythm toward his dock.
She didn't use an engine, but the boat moved faster than the wind. Einstein could see the faint, emerald shimmer around her oars—the telltale sign of a Nature-Attuned Awakening.
She collapsed onto the wooden planks of the dock, her breathing ragged. She wasn't injured, but her internal energy was surging uncontrollably, leaking from her pores in wisps of green light.
"You're... you're him," she gasped, looking up at Einstein. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and hope. "The Anchor. The one the Guilds call the Ghost King."
"I'm just a gardener, child," Einstein said, his voice as calm as the hills behind him. He knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
He didn't use Sovereign power. He used Bio-Feedback. He synchronized his own steady, human heartbeat with her erratic pulse. Slowly, the emerald light faded, retreating back into her skin.
"My name is Maya," she whispered, her strength returning. "The Green Guild... they tried to 'Harvest' me. They said my frequency was too valuable to be left in the wild. They're coming, Ewan. They've tracked me across three counties."
The New Hierarchy
Einstein helped Maya into the cottage, where Felicity was already setting out a mug of herbal tea. Felicity didn't look surprised. She had known this day would come. The "Zero" was a peace that could only last as long as it took for the rest of the world to find their own feet.
"The Guilds," Felicity said, her eyes meeting Einstein's. "Rhea mentioned them in her last report. They're the new power structures. Instead of banks and oil, they trade in 'Aura-Types'. The Green Guild controls the agricultural sectors. The Silver Guild controls the tech. They've rebuilt the Council's old hierarchy under the guise of 'New Human' development."
"They're using the Dividend as a cage again," Einstein murmured.
"They have a 'War Lord' leading them," Maya said, her hands shaking as she held the mug. "A man who claims he can see the 'Source Code.' He says the Pulse belongs to the strong, and the weak are just batteries."
Einstein felt a cold, familiar spark in the center of his chest. It wasn't the Sun-God Seal; it was the Jacob-Will. He had spent his life trying to close the accounts, only to find that humanity had a natural talent for debt.
The Arrival of the Green Hunt
The silence of the Lake District was shattered an hour later. It wasn't the sound of engines, but the sound of the forest itself screaming. The trees at the edge of Einstein's property began to grow at an impossible rate, their branches twisting into spears.
A group of six men and women stepped from the treeline. They wore tactical suits made of woven moss and carbon fiber. In their center was a man with a crown of thorns etched into his forehead—a 10th-level Awakener of the New Era.
"Einstein Jacob!" the leader roared. "We know you're in there. The First Disciple told us where to find the 'Principal.' Give us the girl, and we'll leave your little retirement home in one piece."
Einstein stepped onto the porch. He didn't have his Sovereign suit. He wore a faded flannel shirt and work boots.
"The girl is a guest," Einstein said. "And you're trespassing on a very expensive garden."
The leader laughed, a sound like grinding wood. "You're a myth, Jacob. A relic. Your DNA is a blueprint that's out of date. We are the 'Grafted.' We've improved on your Dividend."
The leader raised a hand, and the ground beneath Einstein's porch exploded. Thick, barbed vines lashed out like whips.
Einstein didn't jump. He didn't fly. He moved with the grounded, heavy grace of a man who had spent three years working the earth. He stepped into the strike, catching the vine with his bare hand.
He didn't use energy to burn it. He used his Mastery of the Pulse. Every living thing on the planet was now synced to the frequency Einstein had set in the Forge. He didn't fight the vine; he Commanded it to rest.
The vine went limp, the emerald light inside it turning to a dull, natural brown.
The Lesson of the Gardener
The Green Guild members froze. They had been taught that power was about output—how much energy they could throw. They hadn't been taught about Economy.
"You've learned how to shout," Einstein said, walking down the porch steps. "But you've forgotten how to listen. You think the Pulse is a weapon. It's a conversation."
The five subordinates lunged. They moved with the speed of New Humans, but Einstein moved with the clarity of a Sovereign who had seen the "Final Logic." He didn't strike to kill; he struck the Nodes.
A tap to a wrist, a palm to a solar plexus, a sweep of a leg. He dismantled them not with magic, but with a perfect understanding of the human anatomy that he had himself helped rewrite.
Finally, only the leader remained. He was trembling, his thorns glowing a violent, sickly green. "You... you have no power! The sensors say your mana-count is zero!"
"The sensors are looking for a storm," Einstein said, stopping inches from the man. "I am the atmosphere."
Einstein placed a finger on the man's forehead, right in the center of the thorn crown. He released a tiny, microscopic pulse—the "Human Dividend" in its purest form.
The leader's eyes rolled back in his head. The "Grafted" power—the stolen, violent energy he had used to dominate others—wasn't destroyed. It was Balanced. The thorns on his head dissolved into soft, green leaves.
"Go back to your Guild," Einstein said, his voice echoing with the resonance of the 25th level. "Tell them the gardener is still watching the weeds. And if they try to harvest another soul, I'll come to their 'Fortress' and turn it back into a forest."
The First Disciple's Choice
The Guild members fled, dragging their leader with them. The forest went quiet again, though the trees Einstein had "calmed" remained as twisted monuments to the brief battle.
Maya stepped onto the porch, her mouth hanging open. "You... you didn't even sweat."
"I have a lot of practice with stubborn roots," Einstein said, wiping his hands on his jeans.
He looked at Felicity. She was leaning against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile on her face. "The Zero is over, isn't it?" she asked.
"The Zero was a vacation," Einstein admitted. "The world is waking up, and they don't have a teacher. They're like children who found a loaded gun and think it's a toy."
He looked at Maya. "You can stay here. I'll teach you how to listen to the Pulse. But it won't be easy. You'll have to learn how to plant a garden before I teach you how to grow a forest."
Maya knelt on the grass, a single tear tracing a path through the dust on her cheek. "I want to learn. Please."
The Global Horizon
That night, Einstein sat in his cellar, looking at the rows of cider. He pulled out a tablet that Rhea had left for him—a secure link to the global networks.
The news was filled with the defeat of the Green Guild's "Elite Unit." The name Einstein Jacob was trending again, but not as a ghost or a myth. He was being called the Grandmaster.
He looked at the balance on his screen.
Current Balance: £200.00 (He had sold a particularly good batch of cider to the village pub).
He wasn't a trillionaire. He wasn't the King of the North. But as he watched Maya meditating in the garden under the moonlight, her emerald aura pulsing in perfect time with the earth, he realized that he was starting a new kind of bank.
He wasn't hoarding gold. He was investing in Souls.
Einstein Jacob took a sip of his cider, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the stars. The Orion Syndicate was still out there. The Forge was still turning. And somewhere in the dark, a new "Heir" was likely being groomed.
But the gardener was ready. And this time, he wasn't alone.