Caster trouble 3

The workshop was dark, quiet, and stiflingly still, save for the gentle hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of a timer. Ben stood hunched over a titanium mold on a reinforced metal worktable, his body now transformed into the faceted, gleaming form of Diamondhead. Light from the lab lamps reflected off his crystal form, scattering into rainbows across the walls.

In the mold sat a series of half-formed lenses—part of the precision optics system he had spent the past week attempting to grow. This was his sixth attempt. The previous five had all failed—some from growing too quickly, others due to subtle imperfections that caused stress fractures or unbalanced structures. Growing high-grade crystal with exact angles and refractive properties wasn't a matter of just willing it into existence—it was a painstaking, grueling process.

Gray Matter had helped him map the thermodynamic behavior of diamond growth, while Upgrade interfaced with the lab's AI to calibrate Geometry, pressure, and time. But even with those tools, the task came down to Ben's hands—steady, patient, The crystals couldn't be cut or machined afterward. They had to grow perfectly within the mold, each edge meeting precisely, each surface aligned to a fraction of a degree.

His right hand hovered just above the titanium mold. Slowly, a thin spike of translucent green crystal extruded, inch by inch, into the designated cavity. A soft ping echoed every three seconds—the timer synced with the growth pattern. Each tone marked a microscopic change in pressure and energy flow. He breathed in slowly, holding the same focus he'd seen in surgeons and sculptors.

To his side, a monitor flickered. An active X-ray scanner mapped the internal lattice of the crystal as it formed, while a second screen displayed an AI model comparing each molecular layer to the ideal structure. A yellow light blinked on the edge of the screen, signaling a minor flaw.

Ben paused, adjusted his angle, and restarted the growth. One misstep and the entire lens would be compromised. You couldn't patch crystals like this—attempts to glue them or grow them separately had already failed catastrophically.

He scribbled a note in his logbook:

Attempt #6: Lattice sync within 0.0004%. Timer pulse adjusted to 3.3s. Mold temperature stable at 512K.

He exhaled through his nose, refocused, and resumed the slow, deliberate process,

If he is successful it will unlock new Doors for him.

Meanwhile…

Gwen was in the back of a small bookstore nestled on the corner of a busy plaza. The sun poured through the dusty windows, illuminating stacked shelves and forgotten tomes. She was in the language section, flipping through books with titles like Ancient Scripts of the Mediterranean and Obscure Alphabets of the Middle Ages. Her brows were furrowed.

The leather-bound book tucked into her coat pocket burned in her mind—the spellbook she and Ben had deciphered a single spell from. That had taken hours of trial and error. If she could learn the language it was written in, she could unlock so much more.

She traced a diagram of runes with her finger, murmuring, "Come on... looks kind of like this, but not exactly."

Suddenly, a voice cut through the stillness. "Hey. You—little girl."

Gwen turned, startled. A tall, confident girl with violet eyes and silver hair stood just feet away. She wore a cloak with glowing runes and had a look of both curiosity and superiority on her face. This was Charmcaster, and she was only a few years older than Gwen—maybe sixteen—but carried herself like a queen.

"Hand over that bag," she demanded. "It's mine."

Gwen instinctively clutched the bag tighter. "I don't think so. I found it."

Charmcaster rolled her eyes. With a swift motion, she extended her hand, and the bag yanked out of Gwen's pocket.

Before it could land in Charmcaster's hand, Gwen focused, calling on her levitation spell. Her fingers sparked faintly with blue light, and the bag froze in mid-air, zipping back toward her with a tug of invisible force.

Charmcaster's eyes widened. "You used magic?"

Gwen smirked, triumphant. "You're not the going to take something from me that easily."

Charmcaster's expression soured. "You're too green to be smug, kid."

With a flash of pink runes, she whispered an incantation, and the bag vanished in a shimmer of light, reappearing in her hand.

Gwen blinked. "Whoa! Was that teleportation magic?"

Charmcaster grinned, smug now. "Of course. Real mages use real spells."

Gwen's eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "You're a mage too? That's amazing! I've only figured out one spell so far. I'm trying to learn the language this book is written in."

She pulled the spellbook from her coat and showed it to Charmcaster.

Charmcaster's expression changed. "Wait... you're reading this? That's an actual beginner's primer. In Old Language and elemental theory."

"Yeah," Gwen said. "Ben and I deciphered the first spell together. It was hard as it was in old latin the book is written in Different languages."

"You decoded magic text on your own?" Charmcaster looked at her differently now—less like a rival, more like a prodigy.

She closed the distance and offered a hand. "I could teach you. The language. Some spells too. You've got talent."

Gwen grinned. "Really? That would be awesome."

Charmcaster nodded. "I'm looking for my uncle—Hex. He vanished while chasing a dark spellbook called the Darkhold. If I help you, maybe you'll help me in the future."

And just like that, they had a deal.

The Next Day…

The RV rolled through the edge of a quiet city. The skies were clear, the streets calm. Ben sat inside, hunched over a terminal. The ORBs—now six—hovered around him, each in a dormant state. He tapped at a touchscreen, adjusting trajectory parameters, updating stun settings, and cross-referencing city maps.

Charmcaster and Gwen sat across from him, sharing the spellbook. Gwen was quickly picking up new vocabulary while Charmcaster translated lines aloud, noting phonetics and intent.

Ben watched them for a moment, then he called out to Charmcaster to show her something he levitated a salt bottle off the table with shaky concentration.

Charmcaster raised a brow. "You know magic too?"

Ben shrugged. "Barely. Gwen's better. I'll learn later if I need to."

Charmcaster smiled. "You both have potential. Not many people can tap into mana at all."

While they where having an nice peaceful day it was intrupted by

Suddenly—gunshots.

All three heads snapped toward the window.

Ben's fingers flew over his controls. The ORBs activated with a chime and began to float around him, glowing blue. "Let's check it out."

Ben and the crew moved over to the next block in the city on foot.

Outside, two gangs were mid-shootout—Russian and Mexican, by the look of it. Bullets ricocheted off walls, and pedestrians screamed and ducked for cover.

Ben and the girls seeing this decided to end this conflict before they hurt someone.

Charmcaster flicked three small pink stones from her bag into the air. They landed, and with a poof of smoke, three small stone golems emerged, each the size of a large dog.

"Go!" she shouted.

Gwen gasped. "They're so cute!"

Ben smirked, then began directing the ORBs with hand gestures. One zipped up to the rooftops, emitting a soft EMP wave. Another began scanning for surveillance cams, disabling them or even the phones.

While ben waited to do his setup watching in amusement, at the girls with magic in action

He had a thought that Marvel now also had the magical girls fighting crime trope.

Gwen levitated several guns out of the gangsters' hands, yanking them upward and flinging them aside. One shouted something obscene in Russian.

Charmcaster's golems barreled into the opposing gang, tossing aside weapons and bodies alike.

Ben's ORBs fired precise stun shots, zapping legs and arms with blue pulses.

Within ten minutes, the shootout was over. Ben had already sent an AI-masked emergency call to 911 with coordinates. Police will arive in few moments probably.

He muttered, mostly to himself, "Fat pigs better earn their tax money today."

Gwen looked at him, amused. "You've got issues with cops now?"

"No matter the universe," Ben said, shaking his head, "cops will be cops, to have an active shootout in Broad Daylight they must have connections to someone in high place

It reakes of corruption."

Charmcaster smirked. "I think I like you guys."

The three of them turned and walked away from the scene, the ORBs zipping behind them like loyal dogs. Together, mages and a tech genius were on a team today, gangsters got hit by magic and science at once.