Debriefing rooms in Neon Eden were designed to feel neutral.
No intimidation.
No comfort.
Just space, light, and silence—so that whatever you brought in with you had nowhere to hide.
Aira stood at the center of one such room, hands relaxed at her sides, silver moon hair falling straight down her back. The artificial lighting reflected faintly off her refined skin, giving her an almost unreal presence. Across from her, a semicircle of projections flickered into existence.
The higher ups.
Their forms were blurred, authority filters layered thick enough to erase identity, rank, even emotion. Only their voices carried through—calm, precise, and heavy with implication.
"You exceeded projected performance parameters," one said.
Aira did not respond immediately.
Exceeding expectations had consequences.
Another voice followed. "Solo containment of an unstable Rank Five emergence was not part of your assignment."
"It was necessary," Aira replied evenly. "Delay would have allowed full manifestation."
A brief pause followed.
Not disagreement.
Calculation.
"You made that judgment without authorization."
"Yes."
The silence deepened.
Then—unexpectedly—approval.
"…Noted."
The projections shifted, pulling data streams into view. Combat logs, system feedback, skill evolution curves. Aira recognized the patterns instantly—her growth over the last year, the acceleration since Khepri's Wake, the anomalous stability of her level progression.
One of the higher ups spoke again. "Your level is increasing at a rate that should not be sustainable."
Aira tilted her head slightly. "My system refines before it expands."
"That answer implies awareness beyond standard operatives."
"It implies survival," she corrected.
Another pause.
Then: "You are being reassigned."
Aira's gaze sharpened. "To where?"
"Not a location," the voice said. "A designation."
The word settled heavily in the room.
Designation meant responsibility. Visibility. A shift from asset to symbol.
"You will no longer be deployed as part of mixed units," the projection continued. "From this point onward, missions involving unstable realms, early war incursions, and prototype threats will route through you first."
Aira absorbed the meaning quickly.
Vanguard.
Test blade.
If she broke, they would learn where the limits were.
"If I refuse?" she asked calmly.
The projections did not hesitate. "You won't."
She smiled faintly.
They were right.
"Very well," Aira said. "What's the first assignment?"
The room dimmed, and a new projection filled the space—a map layered with red fracture lines, pulsing slowly like a wounded organ.
"Designation: Echo Frontier," the voice announced. "A cluster of peripheral realms exhibiting synchronized instability. Drone activity confirmed. Unknown interference suspected."
Unknown interference was never good.
"This is not a single mission," the higher up continued. "It is a campaign."
Aira felt it then.
The subtle shift.
This was no longer about isolated battles or controlled risk. This was preparation for war in its rawest form—learning how enemies moved, how systems failed, how reality broke under pressure.
"I'll take it," she said without hesitation.
---
She left the debriefing room an hour later.
Neon Eden felt different now.
Not because it had changed—but because she had been marked.
People noticed her more openly. Not just recruits and civilians, but operatives with experience etched into their movements. Veterans paused mid-conversation when she passed. System interfaces flickered subtly in her presence, recalibrating threat and authority metrics.
Aira ignored it.
She moved toward the upper transit ring, where deployment arrays waited in silent readiness. Along the way, she passed a group of new recruits—barely weeks into system awakening. One of them stared openly, eyes wide.
"Is that her?" someone whispered. "The one from Khepri's Wake?"
"She doesn't look… scary."
Aira paused.
She turned slightly, meeting the recruit's gaze. Not sharply. Not coldly.
Just honestly.
"Get stronger," she said. "Or get out before the war decides for you."
Then she continued on.
---
Before deployment, she stopped.
A high balcony overlooked Neon Eden's artificial moon, its pale glow casting long shadows across the platform. Aira rested her hands on the railing, letting the light wash over her. Her silver hair glimmered softly, refined further by evolution and combat alike.
"…Status," she said.
The system responded.
---
Level: 447 / 1000
Rank: Two
Condition: Optimal
Designation: Vanguard Operative
Skills:
• Astral Severance
• Cosmic Step
• Void-Tide Dance
• Stellar Pulse
• Dominion Waltz of the Silent Void
---
She dismissed it slowly.
Less than half her level cap.
And already, the world was bending around her path.
Aira closed her eyes briefly—not to rest, but to center herself. She felt the weight of what lay ahead settle comfortably on her shoulders. Not fear. Not doubt.
Purpose.
The Echo Frontier awaited.
Not as a test.
But as a statement.
When she stepped onto the deployment array, space folded eagerly around her, as if reality itself recognized the inevitability of her advance.
Aira Voss did not march toward war with banners or speeches.
She walked quietly.
Sharply.
Like a blade already halfway drawn.
And somewhere beyond Neon Eden's borders, fractured realms began to tremble—not because war had arrived, but because she was on her way.