A Path To Omniscience

By the time the auction—and by extension, the charity event as a whole—came to an end, the total amount of Lien offered in bidding had soared well into the hundreds of millions. And that was just what had been pledged during the bidding. If one accounted for the total amount spent throughout the night, it might even have breached the billion mark.

Such was the casual extravagance of events involving Atlas's elite.

The Frostvale Family, of course, was no exception—thanks largely to Asher's mother. Over the course of the evening, she had set her sights on five different pieces, and nearly every one had resulted in a heated bidding war. The total sum she spent was staggering, enough to cover every expense Asher had incurred up to this point.

His workshop, the warehouse, the equipment, and the countless materials for his technology—it could all have been paid for several times over. Yet, he wasn't discouraged. If anything, the night had reminded him of the financial freedom that awaited him once he secured a backer willing to fund his future ventures.

With the final bids placed and the event officially over, the ballroom doors opened automatically. Guides reappeared to usher guests down a side hallway. The red carpet, intended as a publicity stunt for arrivals, was no longer needed. Instead of weaving through the barrage of flashing cameras, the guests would leave through a secondary exit, where their cars waited.

As they walked, Asher glanced at his mother with a wry smile.

"So how exactly are we going to fit everything you bought into the car?" He quipped, his tone lighthearted as they passed small groups lingering in the hallway for conversation. The question drew a chuckle from his father.

Shaking his head, Vance replied, "They'll be delivered to the house in a couple of days. Though I wouldn't be surprised if your mother was tempted to try cramming them in the car tonight."

His comment earned a faint eye-roll from Nillia, though her expression softened with amusement.

"You're both laughing now," she retorted, "but wait until you see how much character they add to the house once they arrive." Asher was about to reply when a familiar sight caught his eye. Up ahead, Jacques was shaking hands with a sharply dressed man. The interaction ended quickly, and Jacques turned toward them, his gaze settling on the Frostvale family.

"Vance, Nillia, it's wonderful to see you both. My apologies for not coming over to say hello during the event, but you know how these things go," Jacques greeted them in that polished tone he always used to mask his true feelings.

"Of course," Nillia replied with a warm smile.

"We were swarmed almost as soon as we arrived, so we didn't have a chance to greet you either."

"Besides," she added, her smile widening slightly, "even if we didn't get to chat, our children did. They seemed to have a lot of fun, especially on the dance floor."

Jacques blinked, clearly caught off guard by that. His gaze shifted momentarily to Weiss and Whitley, who stood silently behind him, their expressions carefully neutral.

"Is that so?" He murmured before recovering his composure. 

Turning back to the Frostvales, he continued, "Well, that's delightful, isn't it? Not only are our companies collaborating, but it seems the next generation is forming bonds as well. Let's hope this marks the beginning of a long-standing friendship between the Schnees and the Frostvales, shall we?"

He extended his hand with a calculated smile, and Vance's eyes flickered to it briefly before he reciprocated with a firm handshake, his expression equally cordial.

"Of course," Vance agreed.

"Excellent," Jacques replied, releasing his hand.

"Well, we won't keep you any longer. It's time for us to head home."

"Same here," Nillia chimed in.

"There's always work waiting, isn't there? It never truly ends." Jacques chuckled, though it felt too controlled and precise to be genuine. 

"So very true," he said before turning on his heel. With a small gesture, he motioned for his wife to follow and the rest of his family. As Whitley moved to follow his father, Asher noticed Weiss glance his way. For a brief moment, her expression suggested she had something to say, but the presence of her father seemed to hold her back. Instead, she turned forward and fell in step behind her brother.

The Frostvale family followed suit, stepping outside into the crisp Atlas air. The charity event had carried on into the evening, and the sky was painted in hues of orange as the setting sun tinted the clouds above. Their limousine waited nearby, sleek and polished, parked just outside the venue.

Asher climbed in and closed the door behind him. Sinking into his seat, he exhaled a short sigh, letting his head rest against the cushioned back. Closing his eyes, he felt the faint vibration of the limousine's levitation system as it lifted off the ground. The gentle hum accompanied them as the vehicle glided smoothly away, carrying them home.

"Looks like someone won't be attending another event like this for a while," Nillia remarked with a small chuckle, glancing at Asher. Her comment drew a grin from him, though he didn't bother opening his eyes.

"On the contrary," he replied, his tone light, "I actually found it quite fun and interesting. I just have other things on my mind."

Hearing that, Vance leaned forward slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression.

"Does it have anything to do with what you asked me during the auction?" Asher paused for a moment, considering his answer, then gave a small nod.

"A bit."

"Well," Vance said, his tone shifting to a more serious one, "I can only delay their sentencing for a month at most. Whatever you're planning, you'll need to act quickly."

Nillia's gaze flicked between her husband and son, a slight frown forming.

"What are you two talking about?"

Vance turned to her, explaining, "During the auction, Asher asked about the people who tried to rob him down in Mantle."

At the mere mention of them, Nillia's expression hardened, her gaze narrowing.

"Oh, them. I still feel like we're letting them off too lightly," she said, leaning back in her seat with a frustrated sigh.

"Yes, well, our son seems to disagree," Vance replied, glancing at Asher.

"He's asking me to delay their sentencing." That caught Nillia off guard. She straightened slightly, her surprise evident.

"What!? Why? After everything they put you through?"

"Because they could be far more useful to me outside of a prison cell," Asher answered simply.

"Assuming, of course, that my arrangement with Ironwood goes as planned." Nillia stared at him, her expression conflicted, before folding her arms and leaning back again.

"Fine," she said after a moment, though her tone remained firm.

"But I don't agree with this. We were already more than lenient in not sending them straight to the worst prison in Solitas." Vance reached out, placing a steadying hand on her leg. She glanced at him, her expression softening slightly before she let out a deep breath. Her shoulders relaxed as she unfolded her arms.

"Just be careful, Asher," she said, her voice calmer but tinged with concern.

"As much as your father and I trust you, I don't want you getting wrapped up with criminals—or worse, letting them take advantage of you." Vance nodded in agreement.

"Your mother's right. I'll delay their imprisonment because I trust your judgment, but not if it puts you in danger." Asher glanced between them, his smile reassuring.

"Don't worry. I have no intention of being used."

The conversation shifted after that, moving to lighter, more ordinary topics. Outside the limousine windows, the scenery of Atlas slowly changed. The gleaming towers and bustling city streets faded into the more secluded, opulent neighborhoods where their home resided—if such areas could even be called "neighborhoods."

The gates swung open automatically as the limousine approached, gliding up the winding driveway before coming to a smooth stop at the base of the twin staircases leading to the manor's grand entrance. Waiting at where they pulled up, Asher spotted both Lionel and Lavi standing at attention—Lionel with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, and Lavi with hers folded in front.

As Lionel stepped forward to open the door, Asher climbed out first, offering a quick word of thanks. His father followed, extending a hand to help Nillia out of the car with practiced ease.

"Welcome home," Lionel and Lavi greeted in near-perfect unison.

"Thank you both," Nillia replied warmly. Her gaze shifted between them as they descended the steps.

"Though I imagine you're here because something requires our attention." Both Lionel and Lavi nodded as the group began ascending the stairs.

"I'm afraid so, Madam," Lionel began, directing his response toward Vance.

"An executive from the company called regarding a potential scheduling error. He insisted that I inform you to call him back as soon as possible." Vance sighed, running a hand through his hair as he muttered under his breath. Meanwhile, Lavi addressed Nillia.

"Lady Viole of the Barewood Family attempted to contact you during your absence, Madam. It seems a critical shipment for her annual event has gone missing, and she's demanding an update. She's still on the line." Nillia's reaction mirrored her husband's as she shook her head lightly and they all headed inside. 

"Never a dull moment," she murmured before glancing at Lavi.

"I'll need your help getting out of this dress. Redirect Lady Viole's call to the phone in our room."

"Of course, Madam," Lavi replied, stepping into stride beside her as they headed down the hall.

"Hmm," Vance mused aloud, straightening his posture.

"I suppose I can change later. Best to handle this before it spirals further. Lionel, have the kitchen prepare me a coffee and bring it to the office. I have a feeling it's going to be a long evening."

"Right away, Sir," Lionel replied with a respectful bow. As Vance turned toward the office, Lionel shifted his attention to Asher, who was already heading for his room.

"Young Master, do you require anything?" Pausing at the question, Asher glanced back and shook his head.

"No, but I'll be quite busy this month. Please inform the staff not to disturb me in my room or workshop unless it's urgent." Though slightly caught off guard by the request, Lionel inclined his head.

"Very well."

"Thank you," Asher added, before continuing down the hall. Reaching his room, he opened one of the double doors and stepped inside, letting it swing shut behind him with a soft click.

Moving to his walk-in closet, Asher began undoing the ties and buttons of his tuxedo one by one. The closet light flickered on automatically as he stepped in, bathing the space in soft light. 

Now, how exactly should I go about weaponizing the Spectral Unit prototypes?

It was a challenging question, though not one Asher hadn't considered before. Change—true, hard change—rarely came without conflict, which made weapons a necessity. The O.M.N.I. Frame was proof of that. But drones were a different matter, a far more intricate puzzle than an exoskeleton. 

As he stripped off his top layers and tossed them into the laundry bin near the door, he muttered, "I suppose it depends on what Ironwood intends to use them against. Grimm, humanity's enemy, or... other humans."

The answer mattered.

Weapons designed for the Grimm differed drastically from those made to combat humans. For one, conventional rounds below a certain caliber were useless against the Grimm's tar-like skin, which was far tougher than any animal hide. Even injuries that could cripple a human wouldn't deter the Grimm.

Pain wasn't a factor for creatures that lacked a sense of self-preservation.

"Hmm..." Asher mused aloud, running a hand through his hair.

He never said I could only demonstrate one thing. What if I created two combat variants?

The idea settled as he finished changing into his usual attire for working in his workshop—a simple combination of plain white outerwear and black inner layers. Stepping out of the closet, he felt the idea solidifying. 

Trying to design a single drone capable of handling both Grimm and humans would be convenient but ultimately impractical. Such a unit would need to accommodate multiple ammunition types, requiring modular systems and additional compartments for swappable cartridges.

It wasn't worth the trade-off.

One of the greatest advantages of his drones was their compact size and unmatched agility. Even if they weren't the fastest in the skies, they were undoubtedly the most maneuverable. Their AI, meticulously trained with vast datasets, made them unparalleled in precision and responsiveness. Sacrificing those features for versatility would dilute their strengths.

Even if it's a bit more expensive, creating specialized variants is the better option, each optimized for a specific purpose.

With his decision made, he left his room and headed for the workshop. Ascending the winding staircase, the workshop door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a space alive with the hum of electronics. The air was filled with faint mechanical whirs and the low, steady buzz of powered systems.

Crossing the room, Asher dropped into his chair, rolling it forward until he reached the holographic keyboard. As his fingers brushed the keys, the wall-mounted monitor flickered to life, followed by his computer's main interface. He navigated swiftly through his files, stopping at one that required a password.

His hands danced across the keyboard as he entered the encrypted code. The system verified the entry instantly, unlocking the folder.

A long list of meticulously labeled subfolders appeared on the screen:

[Project: O.M.N.I. Frame Prototype 0.15], [Project: O.M.N.I. Frame Full Body Concept],[S.I.R.E.N. System Update 3.4], [GAIA Recognition Protocol]... and dozens more.

Some contained rough concepts, others detailed upgrades to existing systems, while a few marked scrapped or outdated ideas.

It was a digital library, and although its worth paled compared to the knowledge stored in his mind—or rather, in the Nexus Space and his own personal logs, this folder represented his second most valuable databank.

The potential within these files was staggering. If properly studied, the information could revolutionize the technological landscape of Atlas—and possibly the world. But Asher wasn't interested in widespread dissemination, not yet. Having solutions wasn't the same as solving problems.

The world already had countless issues that could be addressed with existing tools, yet those problems persisted. Asher wasn't naive enough to believe he had all the answers, but he understood one thing clearly:

Control over distribution is control over impact.

A monopoly could be a curse or a gift. In the hands of greed, it stifled progress and hoarded innovation. But if handled with caution and applied incrementally, it could elevate the masses instead of ruining them. With that thought, Asher pressed a key, creating two unnamed project folders.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the blinking cursors beside the new entries.

Now... what should I name them?

=====================================•=====================================

August 24th, 2033

At the Frostvale Family Manor—or more specifically, in the backyard—Asher reclined on a long lounge chair, eyes closed as if asleep. It was one of those rare days in Atlas where the sun wasn't hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, and its warmth was enough to make the outdoors inviting.

A gentle breeze swept through the air, carrying with it a fleeting sense of calm. That tranquility was interrupted by the soft chime and vibration of Asher's scroll in his pocket. His eyes opened slowly, and with a slight sigh, he retrieved the device and brought it to his ear.

"Hello?" He greeted in a relaxed, pleasant tone.

"Asher, it's me. Do you have time to talk right now?" The voice on the other end belonged to Liv, though the urgency in her tone made Asher raise a brow in curiosity.

"Of course," he replied.

"I'm just enjoying the sun while my computer runs some simulations in the workshop. Nothing pressing."

"Okay, good," Liv said, her words coming quickly.

"Because a couple of hours ago, I was contacted by the Atlas Military, and... well, I'm very confused." Asher made a soft "oh" sound of acknowledgment, his tone shifting slightly.

"I see. That was faster than I expected. Though, considering it's Ironwood, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Liv broke the silence, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Did you just say Ironwood?"