Reborn With A Technology System In A Fantasy World-Chapter 285: Space Tunnel

[Major Quest: Guardian of the Galaxy]

[Description: You have discovered the signature of the Galactic Core, the primordial anchor point that stabilizes this sector of the universe. It is a source of infinite energy and conceptual authority. It cannot be trusted in the hands of any mortal faction, including the Concordat. As the Void Master, you are the only one capable of harvesting and safeguarding it.]

[Objective: Locate and Secure the Galactic Core.]

Adrian narrowed his eyes, the blue light of the notification reflecting in them. Many elements in the Quest didn’t make sense to him.

"Void Master"? "Primordial Anchor"? But one thing was clear: the pull tugging at his soul was not a random anomaly. It was a call. And with the way the Tech Core phrased it, this "Galactic Core" was more important than anything he had ever encountered before.

The Quest didn’t list a reward, but the gravity of the description alone was enough. Adrian turned back to see the Silver Phantom (the new name he had given the upgraded X-77) waiting for him in thousands of kilometers away, and Greg was still on board.

Adrian considered his options. He could return now, consolidate his gains, and plan. But the pull was insistent and it made his bones vibrate.

"Okay, I’ll check it out first." He later decided.

With a flash of blue light, he sped away from the debris field, not towards his ship, but deeper into the chaotic heart of the asteroid cluster, towards a region of space that looked... wrong.

He entered the anomaly.

It wasn’t just empty space. It was a Space Tunnel, a localized distortion where the fabric of reality was stretched thin.

The stars around him elongated into streaks of light, and the silence of the vacuum was replaced by a low, thrumming roar that he felt in his teeth.

It was one of the weirdest cosmic abnormalities he had ever read about; a place where distance and time could lose their meaning.

As Adrian ventured inside, the strength of the pull didn’t increase. It remained a constant, nagging pressure, giving him the unsettling feeling that despite his incredible speed, he wasn’t getting any closer.

The tunnel grew violent. Gravitational tides ripped at him, unseen currents of force that tried to tear his limbs from his body.

Space itself seemed to buckle and fold, creating pockets of intense radiation and crushing pressure.

His body, usually immune to the void, began to scream in protest. His skin crackled, tears opening up only to be instantly knitted back together by his regeneration. But the damage was slowly outpacing the healing.

"Equip power suit," Adrian was eventually forced to command.

Now fully armored, he fared better against the tunnel. And for six whole hours, he pushed forward.

He was a comet of blue will fighting against the tide of a hostile universe. His suit’s durability kept on dropping, and he continued restoring.

Finally, Adrian stopped. Looking at his navigation data, he had traveled a distance that should have crossed the entire sector, yet the pull felt exactly the same.

"I haven’t made any progress," he realized. "At this pace, it would take me tens of years to reach the source... if my body didn’t disintegrate first."

It made him wonder if Space Tunnels were truly endless, or if they projected a different form of reality where linear movement was meaningless. He was running on a treadmill.

He couldn’t continue like this. He didn’t want Greg getting suspicious and coming to check on him. He needed a better plan. He turned back, using [Translocation] to leave the Tunnel.

***

The airlock of the Silver Phantom opened as Adrian stepped inside, his suit retracting. Greg was still in the pilot’s seat, engrossed in his romance novel. He didn’t look up immediately, but his green ears twitched.

"What made you waste so much time?" the Escort asked, his tone bored but with an underlying edge.

Adrian fixed him an eyebrow. "And when were we on a deadline?"

Greg finally looked up, scanning Adrian’s pristine appearance. He saw that Adrian wasn’t willing to explain. "What’s next? Are you flying?"

Adrian shook his head. "Nah. I’ve decided I’ll stay here for a few days to rest. I also wanted to star-bathe."

"Star-bathe?" Greg raised an eyebrow. It was a practice among some high-level cultivatorsn; exposing themselves directly to a star’s radiation to absorb raw energy. It was dangerous and usually inefficient, but not unheard of.

"Hmm," Greg hummed, losing interest and returning to his PAD. "Suit yourself."

He couldn’t care less if Adrian decided to spend months here. If he got bored, he would just call for a replacement.

Adrian, sensing the alien’s silent approval, retreated to his cabin. He locked the door and immediately activated the transfer.

[Visit Factory]

For the next week, Adrian lived a double life. His physical body remained in a meditative trance in his cabin, while his mind worked furiously in the Simulation Chamber.

He recreated the Space Tunnel. He analyzed its chaotic gravitational waves, its spatial distortions, its infinite loop structure. It was a puzzle of 11th-dimensional physics. Brute force was useless. So he needed to cheat.

He devised a theory: Spatial Resonance. The tunnel wasn’t a road; it was a frequency. To move through it, he didn’t need speed; he needed to vibrate at the same frequency as the Core itself. He needed to become part of the tunnel, not an intruder fighting it.

He spent days in the simulation, testing this theory. He died thousands of times; crushed, stretched into spaghetti, erased from existence. But with each failure, he refined the frequency. He built a new, specialized module for his Power Suit: a Void Resonator.

Every day, for eight days, Adrian would leave the ship under the guise of "star-bathing," enter the real tunnel, and test his progress.

He would activate the Resonator. The violent tides of the tunnel would suddenly calm around him.

He wasn’t fighting the current anymore; he was riding it. He would travel further in an hour than he had in the first six. When his time was up or his energy ran low, he would use [Translocation] to mark his coordinates and jump back to the ship’s location. The next day, he would [Translocation] back to his last point in the tunnel and continue.

On the eighth day, he felt it. The pull was no longer a nag; it was a scream. The tunnel’s walls were thinning. Ahead, a blinding, white light began to shine... It was the source.

"This is it," Adrian whispered, floating in the kaleidoscope of warped space. "I’m almost there. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow."

He marked the coordinates and activated [Translocation].

Like before, Adrian reappeared in the vacuum of normal space, just outside the Silver Phantom. He felt a sense of profound accomplishment. He was about to solve a mystery that even the Concordat didn’t know existed.

He cycled the airlock and stepped into the ship.

The interior was silent. Too silent.

He walked to the cockpit and Greg wasn’t reading. The Escort stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression no longer bored, but cold and official.

Adrian stopped and his eyes narrowed. "What’s wrong?"

Greg looked at him, and there was no friendliness in his eyes.

"Diamond Ranker Adrian Sparkborn. By order of the Galactic Concordat, you are to be detained immediately. Surrender, or be pacified."