The air in District 1 was a lie. It was too perfect, too still. The sky was an endless, engineered blue, powered by the sun that hung directly overhead like a watchful eye. In the center of a private meditation field.
Nyx stood in the center of the field, his hands clasped behind his back. The shadows around his feet seemed to writhe.
"The rumors are reaching the upper spires, Nyx. They say you've found a ghost from a dead world."
The voice was harsh, breaking the artificial peace of the field. A ripple of crimson energy tore through the air, and Commander Kael stepped out. He was a mountain of a man, his presence radiating a dry, scorching heat that made the silver grass hiss and shrivel. His charcoal-grey military coat was fastened tight, and his stark white hair stood out against the deep, burning crimson of his eyes.
Nyx didn't turn. "Kael. I assumed you were busy presiding over the tribunal in the capital."
"I was," Kael said, walking up until he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Nyx. "Until I heard about the 'Glitch.' A Distorted user, Nyx? Truly? You know the Council's directive on anomalies. They are to be cataloged, harvested for energy, and extinguished."
"The Council sees a threat, I see a tool," Nyx replied smoothly. His neon-blue eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "A tool that can go where our standard frequencies cannot."
Kael flared. "We tried that once before. Is he just another body to throw into the gears?"
Nyx finally looked at Kael. The blue and red light of their eyes clashed. "Does it matter? As long as The Core remains stable, the cost is irrelevant. Whether he's a savior or a bomb, he'll serve his purpose. I've already sent him to Reality 4 with Hans and Naomi."
Kael let out a sharp, joyless laugh. "Reality 4? The graveyard? You're using him as bait for the Echoes before he can even breathe. You really are a monster, Nyx."
"We are all monsters, Kael," Nyx whispered. "We just choose which world we want to be the nightmare for. The boy will either return as a weapon, or he won't return at all. Either way, the experiment continues."
***
The path to the Gateway Chamber was not a corridor, but a sprawling bridge of white obsidian that cut through the forests of District 1. Far away from the laboratories and the sterile silence of the infirmary, the air here tasted like a coming storm.
Kenzo walked between Hans and Naomi, his new white hoodie bright against the vibrant greenery.
"Look at you," Naomi said, breaking the silence as she hopped onto a low stone railing, balancing with the grace of a cat. "Actually walking to a fight instead of being dragged into one. You feeling heroic, Kenzo? Or just nauseous?"
"A little of both," Kenzo admitted, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I'm still trying to figure out how we're supposed to 'wipe out' a reality leak. I've seen those things. They don't exactly stay still for a punch."
Hans didn't look back, his gaze fixed on the gate ahead. "We aren't wiping out a leak. We're pruning a dead branch. Reality 4 is gone, Kenzo. All that's left is the rot, the Echoes. They're Class-D Remnants. Bottom of the food chain."
Kenzo looked at Naomi. "Grades? You guys have a ranking system for ghosts?"
Naomi flashed a sharp, toothy grin. "Everything in our reality is measured. It keeps the scientists from having heart attacks." She held up four fingers.
"Class-D—The Echoes. They're the mindless ones. No faces, no thoughts, just hunger. They're like flies on a carcass. Then you've got Class-C—The Weavers or Shapers. They've got enough energy to actually manipulate the environment. They jam your frequency, build nests, and can actually hunt in packs."
Kenzo slowed his pace slightly. "And the one in the alleyway? The thing that tried to turn me into a stain?"
"A Class-C," Hans stated flatly. "A standard Weaver."
Kenzo froze for a split second, his silver eyes widening. The memory of that night, the crushing weight, the feeling of his soul being shredded, the sheer impossibility of survival, flashed through his mind.
That was just a C? "Wait," Kenzo said, his voice dropping. "If that was a C… what's the strongest thing you two have actually fought?"
Hans and Naomi shared a brief, silent look. The playful light in Naomi's yellow eyes flickered and died for a heartbeat.
"Class-B," they said in unison.
"A Class-B," Naomi continued, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, "is what happens when a Remnant starts eating other Remnants. Ravagers. One Class-B can turn a thriving city into a graveyard in a single night. We barely made it out of that one, and Hans had to be in the infirmary for a month."
"And Class-A?" Kenzo asked.
"The Commander's territory," Hans replied, his voice hardening as the Gateway Chamber came into view, a massive, open-air platform of floating rings and sparking blue. "Class-A and above are what we call 'Void Eaters' If one shows up, we don't fight to win. We fight to buy time for the Core."
Kenzo looked down at his hands. He had thought the Remnant in the alleyway was the peak of the nightmare. He had felt 'unstoppable' in the testing bay for a few fleeting seconds, imagining himself as the hero of his own story.
If a Class-C had nearly ended his world, and there were things three levels higher than that…
I'm not a weapon, Kenzo thought, the black and purple static under his skin giving a cold, anxious prickle. I'm just a guy who knows how to move his feet. I thought I was ready to protect, but I don't even know what I'm fighting.
They reached the center of the platform. The Jump-Gate roared to life, a swirling vortex of bruised purples and sickly greens that looked exactly like the decay it was meant to lead them to.
Hans turned to Kenzo, his grey eyes piercing. "Don't let the grades get in your head. An Echo is weak, but a thousand Echoes can still drown a god. You're the lure today, Kenzo. Your job isn't to worry. Your job is to stay alive."
Naomi hopped off the railing, her hand resting on her side. She gave Kenzo a wink. "Don't worry, Kenzo. If a Class-B shows up, I'll let you have the first punch!"
Kenzo took a deep breath, the static in his chest shifting from fear to a low, resolve. He adjusted his hoodie, pulling the hood up until the shadows cut across his silver eyes.
"Let's just get to the graveyard," Kenzo said. "I've had enough of the briefing."
Hans stepped toward the console, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency across the flickering holographic interface. The air around the gate began to distort.
"The gate is locked onto the coordinates for Reality 4," Hans said, his voice dropping into a professional cadence. He turned to Kenzo, his expression stern. "Listen to me. When you cross the threshold, the pressure isn't just physical—it's existential. You need to hold your breath the entire time you're in the transit stream. Imagine you're jumping into a deep pool. If you 'inhale' the frequency of the gate, your lungs will be the first things to deconstruct."
"Oh, for the love of Laniakea, hurry up!" Naomi groaned, leaning back on her heels and twirling a lock of her hair. "Can we just go already?"
Hans shot her a look that could have frozen a sun. "Shut up, Naomi. Do you want him to die before we even hit the atmosphere?"
Naomi pouted, turning toward Kenzo with an exaggerated, mock-pitying face. "That would be such a shame, wouldn't it, Kenzo? I'd have no one to make fun of in the graveyard."
Kenzo wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Could we please get serious? I'm about to jump into a new reality."
Hans softened his stance by a fraction, his hand resting briefly on the hilt of his polearm. "Stay behind me. Follow my rhythm. Don't look at the walls of the tunnel, just keep your eyes on the light at the end."
"Ready?" Naomi asked, her yellow eyes finally flashing with genuine anticipation.
Kenzo nodded, taking a deep, final lungful of clean air. "Ready."
"Then jump," Hans commanded.
They moved as one.
The transition was immediate and jarring. The moment Kenzo's boots left the obsidian platform, the world of Laniakea vanished. He wasn't falling; he was being propelled.
It's cold, Kenzo thought, his mind racing even as his body remained frozen in the transit stream. Cold and… sharp.
Every sense he possessed suddenly felt heightened to a painful degree. He could feel the individual fibers of his hoodie, the frantic beating of his own heart. The air, if it could be called that, felt dense and heavy, as if he were swimming through the very center of the Earth itself.
The black and purple static in his veins surged, fighting against the Jump-Gate's blue energy. For a heartbeat, he saw a tunnel of fractured light, a kaleidoscope of broken buildings and dying stars.
Then, a flash.
CLANG.
The sensation of weight returned with the force of a hammer. Kenzo hit a hard, metallic surface, his knees buckling. He gasped, finally releasing his breath, only to be met with the taste of rust, smog, and the bitter, metallic tang of a world that had forgotten how to live.
They had arrived.
Kenzo stumbled, his boots skidding on a layer of thick, oily soot. He scrambled for balance, grabbing onto a rusted iron railing that groaned under his weight. As his vision cleared, the sheer scale of the desolation hit him like a physical blow.
The sky was not the vibrant color of his new home; it was a bruised, stagnant green, choked with clouds of smog that hung motionless, as if the wind itself had died years ago. Below them, a city that must have once been a marvel of glass and steel was now a skeletal graveyard. Skyscrapers were missing jagged chunks of their midsections. There were no lights, no sound of traffic, only an oppressive, heavy silence that made the air feel twice as thick.
"This..." Kenzo's voice was a whisper, lost in the vast emptiness. "This doesn't look like Laniakea. It doesn't even look like the same planet."
"It isn't," Hans said, his voice echoing flatly. He stood at the edge of the rooftop. He didn't look bothered by the decay; to him, this was just a crime scene. "You're on the continent once known as North America. Or what's left of it after the reality collapsed. This branch was one of the first to fall."
Kenzo looked down at the street level, miles below. He could see the husks of ancient vehicles and the black, vine-like growths of the "rot" climbing up the sides of the buildings.
"If this place is already dead," Kenzo asked, turning back to Hans with a look of genuine confusion, "then what's the point? If there's no one left to save, why are we here risking our lives just to destroy some ghosts? What good does it do?"
Naomi stepped up beside him. She didn't have her usual smirk.
"We aren't here for them, Kenzo" she said, her voice unusually somber. "We're here for the Core. A dead reality like this... it's like a rotting limb. If you don't prune the Remnants, they start to tunnel. They look for healthy realities, like your home, or the Core. They don't just stay in their graves, they try to turn the whole world a graveyard."
"Every Remnant we erase here," Hans added, his hand tightening on his polearm, "is one less monster that can find its way to our home."
The three of them began to move across the rooftop, their boots crunching on the brittle, oxidized metal of the building's crown. The silence of the dead city was unnerving, there were no birds, no distant machinery, just the low, rhythmic thrum of the Jump-Gate's residual energy fading from their skin.
Naomi pulled a small, circular device from a pouch at her hip. A holographic radar flickered to life, casting a pale yellow glow against her face. She squinted at the sweeping line of the pulse, her brow furrowing.
"Got a hit," she whispered, her voice tightening with professional focus. "Strong signal, about fifty meters out. It's reading as a Class-D frequency."
Hans stopped in his tracks, his head tilting as he scanned the jagged horizon of the surrounding skyscrapers. He leaned over, looking at the blinking red dot on Naomi's screen. "Isn't that a bit too close?"
Naomi tapped the side of the device, her eyes widening as the dot didn't just move, it blurred across the display.
"It's fast," she breathed. "It's not on the street level. It's—"
"Up!" Hans roared.
They all looked up.
Cutting through the green smog above them was a silhouette that defied the typical description of a faceless Echo. It was a winged, skeletal nightmare, its form made of jagged black shards and tattered, translucent membranes that hissed as they caught the stagnant air. It didn't bank or hover, it dropped like a meteor, it locked entirely on the silver-eyed boy in the white hoodie.
The creature shrieked, a sound that felt like glass shattering inside Kenzo's skull, as it plummeted toward him.