[Long beep]

  (Female prompt voice): Recording.

  Hey! Hello! You have a new memory card now. Fully charged. If you cut me off again, I’m throwing you in the trash.

  (Female voice in background): What? You’ll throw me away?

  Not you. The recorder. This expensive piece of junk.

  (Female voice): Hey! Jericho’s here. With food.

  (Jericho, distant): Heyyy, “Imperial Prince” Marcus Torres.

  Oh, hello there, Captain Jericho Sanchez. And please don’t call me that. If you want to be respectful, just call me “sir.”

  (Jericho): Hahaha! So what are you doing there, sir?

  Trying to record my mini-autobiography without technological betrayal.

  (Jericho): Mind if I stay? Just got back from a mission. I’m exhausted.

  Yeah, sure.

  Ahem.

  The crystal.

  After that day, I secured Crystal in a comfortable room — with food, obviously.

  Then I went full mad scientist.

  I analyzed the fragments.

  Dissected them.

  Exposed them to particle beams.

  Shot them with a controlled laser array.

  Examined them under my high-resolution electron microscope.

  And—

  Yes.

  Bwahahaha—

  Oh sorry.

  The crystal’s atomic structure… is wrong.

  It doesn’t behave like any known element.

  Its atomic lattice appears hollow — unstable — but not radioactive like uranium or radium.

  Instead, it seems… eager.

  Eager to bond.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Eager to connect.

  Like it’s searching for completion.

  So I tried something brilliant.

  I melted one hundred grams of crystal at precisely 800 degrees Celsius. Then I exposed it to low-level gamma radiation and introduced a microscopic dusting of pure gold.

  The result?

  Transmutation.

  The crystal reorganized its atomic lattice and stabilized into—

  A solid 24-karat gold bar.

  Bwahahahahahaha.

  (Jericho): Why are you laughing like a villain?

  I’m not. I’m celebrating scientific advancement.

  (Jericho): Here. Have a beer.

  Thank you.

  Now.

  The problem.

  To produce one ton of gold, I would need one ton of crystal.

  And Crystal herself could not generate that much material.

  A dead end.

  Or so I thought.

  One morning, I saw her outside in my Zen garden.

  Barefoot.

  She lifted her face toward the grey sun.

  Closed her eyes.

  She removed her clothes.

  I panicked — grabbed a blanket — rushed outside.

  But I stopped.

  She wasn’t exposed.

  She was radiant.

  Her body began to glow.

  Not light reflecting—

  Light generating.

  She rose nearly a foot off the ground.

  Arms lifted.

  Hair drifting upward as if underwater.

  She flicked her head back—

  And crystal fragments burst from her hair like sparks.

  She descended gently.

  Picked up one fragment.

  Pressed it into the soil.

  Placed her hand over it.

  It glowed.

  Then she calmly turned to go inside.

  I quickly wrapped her in the blanket and escorted her in.

  Odd.

  Very odd.

  Days passed.

  No visible change.

  Then I checked the garden.

  And my breath stopped.

  The fragment had grown.

  A massive black crystal structure — nearly twelve feet tall, ten feet wide. Steam rolled from its surface like dry ice.

  When sunlight touched it, it began to sweat a pinkish-red liquid.

  Viscous.

  Petroleum-like.

  The air hummed around it.

  From a fragment the size of a corn kernel… to a monolith.

  I tested it.

  No radiation.

  No measurable toxicity.

  I harvested a section.

  Ground it.

  Refined it.

  Transmuted it.

  I could create new alloys.

  New materials.

  Elements not found on the periodic table.

  Armor stronger than titanium.

  Energy output beyond nuclear efficiency.

  Weapons limited only by imagination.

  This was it.

  The foundation.

  But I still didn’t understand how.

  Every day, she repeated the ritual.

  Sunlight.

  Levitation.

  Hair flick.

  Plant.

  Glow.

  Grow.

  After weeks of observation—

  I realized the answer was simple.

  Concentrated solar energy.

  She wasn’t creating matter from nothing.

  She was converting sunlight.

  The crystal was a storage and transformation medium.

  A perfect energy catalyst.

  I replicated the effect with high-intensity focused light with special lens made from my own transmutated material, i call it the ''Oculos Sōlis''.

  Even a magnifying glass worked on a small scale.

  And then—

  I understood.

  This was what Uncle Joe spoke of.

  The unobtainium.

  The philosopher’s stone.

  The sorcerer’s blood.

  The material that could fund a revolution.

  Fuel a war.

  Build an empire.

  My Uncle Arthur will be proud of me!

  Yes! This is it...

  [A massive explosion tears through the background.]

  -Metal screaming-

  -Glass shattering-

  -Flames roaring-

  (Jericho shouting): Marcus! Crystal!

  -Electrical bursts — bzzzt!-

  -Energy discharges — wooomp!-

  -Structures collapsing.-

  (Jericho yelling): Who are these people?!

  -More blasts.-

  -More screaming.-

  [The recorder skids across the floor.]

  -Gunfire.-

  -Weird vibration.-

  [Static... Long beep]

  [Recording abruptly cuts off.]