A golden light guided me through the darkness.

Like a surging river, it cut through the shadows of uncertainty, endlessly branching out before me. The longer I stared at it, the more aware I became of the numbers within, flashing by before my eyes could catch them.

There were simply too many, layered beyond where my mind could understand. Endlessly, the code of life spun its incomprehensible web before my eyes: always shifting, always adapting.

There were countless options, countless opportunities, and only one chance to choose right. I knew it instinctively as I saw the fragile composition of the scrawny boy standing before me – a million nodes of genetic data weaving together to form his young body where he stood at the zenith of the light.

My feet had brought me over to him.

Now, I reached out to touch one of the constantly shifting strands of golden code rushing through him. It caused the boy to freeze in place, a ripple of red passing through the gold as the code began to mutate.

His fingers grew into claws, canines curling from his lips as his eyes snapped open and he lashed out towards me.

The moment I recoiled, causing my finger to lose contact with the golden light, the ripples within the genome stilled.

The boy returned to normal, and for a moment, I could only stare. Then, beckoned by curiosity, I reached out to touch another place, and another shift occurred.

The boys eyes started glowing, his existence turning into glitchy fragments that flickered across my vision. In one moment, he’d phased into nothingness before me, then he appeared behind me, and a second later, to both my sides at once.

The code was altering itself now, rapidly shifting between different possibilities and realities.

The boy grew extra limbs, began walking on all fours, scaling walls or hovering through the air. He stood with his fingers pressed against his temple, the other hand stretching out before him as his face twisted in concentration. Then, he moved with a speed my eyes could barely catch, lifted impossible loads with ease, or moved with graceful ease at the periphery of where my eyes could see him.

These changes I knew.

They were the superior versions of the speed, strength, and agility enhancements I’d possessed in my previous life. But they were also more than that. They weren’t just simple modifications of the boy before me, they were perfect mutations that’d made him into something more. Something less broken.

The code changed once more, and the boy began to grow older. With confident kicks and punches, he moved through the Imperial Forms with an accuracy I’d never once achieved even after centuries of practice. His body were made for them, leaving each movement to come naturally.

Then, he whipped out his guns, homing in on a dozen different targets at once, flipping between them with such speed his arms turned into a blur. Then there were drones that swept down around him, blurry soldiers rushing by at his command, the barrage of a thousand heavy turrets firing at once – an entire network of worlds under his control.

It was the peak of every class I’d pursued in my previous life. The soldier, the technician, and the officer. This was the peak of their potential, seen maybe once in a star’s lifetime.

It pained me, as it made my old flaws all too obvious.

Compared to these forms, I’d been an ugly amalgamation of failed mutations and weak mods – a bottom feeder scraping after something that would help me survive.

I’d been nothing compared to the potential that rested within us all. This was where the System was trying to guide us, to a higher existence. We’d just been blind to it for so very, very long.

If I could just grasp it, comprehend even a single strand of that golden code, I’d be able to…

I was back in that tomb, the orbs slowly spinning around me. Closer and closer they came until everything else was erased from existence.

My breath was held, and then, an electric jolt shot through my body, I snapped awake, and those orbs turned into nothing but a few lamps spread across an unfamiliar ceiling.

I screamed, I chipped for breath, and I grasped at the plastic sheet beneath me with all my strength as everything I’d just witnessed began unraveling from my mind.

The pain, the loss, it was immeasurable.

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𐫰 𐫰 𐫰

“Good evening.” Celian’s greeting was far too calm compared to my own racing heart. “It seems the path the Celestials has set you on is not weak enough to be severed so easily.”

Still breathing irregularly, my eyes darted across my dim surroundings – medical equipment, computers, and a space that might as well have been a living room with a few plastic sheets draped over it.

Slowly, my memories returned.

Asking where I was would’ve been pointless. Where else but the outpost?

Although I’d been flickering in and out of consciousness for what felt like days now, the pieces were still all there for me to put together.

I could vaguely recall how Myla had staggered up to that first, rusted chain-link gate just as night fell. How she’d managed it was beyond me, but the commotion that’d followed had been palpable – a hectic blur where the two of us were rushed to the outpost’s only infirmary.

After that, the passing of time was ambiguous.

There’d been several instances of people arguing and yelling around me, briefly pulling me from unconsciousness. Now, there was only Celian.

Right, right…

With my eyes closed, the rest of what’d happened began falling into place as well.

They’d already left. The survivors of the only Charger to make it to the outpost were no longer here. They’d set off the moment they could, all to avoid getting trapped beneath this Light forsaken planet’s storms. Before our bodies could even go cold, they’d abandoned us.

Such was the life of the Stratos Apolytos. We were expendable pieces before the greater cause – a grim sacrifice for the survival of our species.

“How long was I out for?” I asked.

“Three days,” Celian responded.

“…Is she alright?”

Myla hadn’t been hurt in the same way as me. Not physically, at least, but that wasn’t what I was asking. Celian seemed to have gathered as much.

“By her biological readings, it would appear that she has managed to fall asleep,” he said, readily admitting that he was tapping into the mind of a sleeping child. As if there was nothing wrong with that at all. “My treatment has helped, but will she ever return to the way she was before?

“Doubtful. Few humans do once they’ve realized their own mortality. Especially at such a young age.”

“I thought you Luminesari were all about mental healing?”

Celian slowly nodded. “For now, she’s refused heavier intervention on my part, stating she wanted to be here when you regained consciousness – that she didn’t want to leave you alone with the memories of what happened, and that there were some things that she wasn’t allowed to forget.

“One of the many weird sentiments your species carry, I’ve found.” He shook his head, seemingly exasperated. “I’ve held off on easing your mental burden as well, in case you wanted to join her in remembering?” He’d said it as if my foolish answer was already obvious, but it remained his duty to convince me otherwise. “The other young recruits who survived this event are recommended go through their own mental therapy over these coming months, all to ensure the scars of the experience never cut too deep.”

Rather than be affronted by his assumptions about me, I could only stare at the Luminesari with a sinking feeling in my gut. It would’ve been the same back then, wouldn’t it have…?

“This therapy,” I began, feeling nauseous at that final piece that’d fallen into place, “how much of my memories would it alter?”

“It will take the more unpleasant aspects and turn them into something less traumatic.” Such as turning an uncontrolled crash into an emergency landing, and this entire event into just an inconvenient bump in the road… “It has proven to help with the healing for your species.”

I felt like throwing up.

Not only had time faded my recollection of my youth, but now I’d have to take potential mental alterations into account as well. How many of my memories can I even trust?

“I’d rather not,” I bitterly stated as I slipped down from the ‘operation table’ which had also been my bed. It was just a desk with a plastic sheet thrown over it, and it’d taken a toll on my back. “Put your care into treating Myla instead. She’s had it far worse than me.”

As my feet hit the cold floor, I was surprised to find that they did so on a mat of red and crisp bandages, empty blood bags, threads, needles, and conspicuous vials.

It seemed my treatment had been more intense than I’d realized. For now, however, I felt mostly fine. Physically, at least.

“Where am I supposed to stay?” I asked,

“In whichever room you please. The others set off towards Wochir-11 with the last patrols passing by before the storm-season.” That endless deluge wasn’t even part of the storm-season? “This settlement was never constructed to house such an influx of refugees, so the timing was most fortunate.”

“But you remained?”

“As I said—”

“Yeah, yeah. Space worms and meaning.” I regretted asking. Instead, I just swept my eyes over the adjacent rooms, visible through two open entranceways. This entire place really seemed more like some old apartment rather than a medical facility. “So, is there any bed for me, or no?”

“Up the stairs, second door to the left.” Celian smiled, though the colors of his markings let me know it was merely a polite one. He really was adapt at human expressions… “This clinic has been placed under my supervision until the storms pass and the regular medic return. They appreciated the vacation.”

“Thanks,” I said, and I left the room without looking back. I just wanted to be alone for a bit, though, I did pause to grab my knife from a nearby table in passing.

As I staggered upstairs, I knew that I couldn’t bear to look at another living being. I felt miserable, and not because of any wounds. Once more, I was alive where countless others had died because of my fuck ups.

The door to my new room had barely shut behind me as felt my weakness consume me.

I kicked over the desk in the corner, ripped open the door to the closet, and violently tore it from its hinges. I punched the wall, I screamed, and I violently stabbed the bed until my fingers had grown too weak to even hold the knife.

By the time I crashed into its shredded linen, I was too exhausted to feel anything.

I should’ve been, at least, but the tears still burned in my eyes. My young body really was terrible at managing its emotions. I’d have to overcome that as well.

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