The atmosphere aboard the substation was thick with tension. Ryan sat at his workstation, his eyes locked onto the live data feed coming in from the ship that had been sent toward the boundary of the Lugias system. This wasn’t just another experiment. This was a direct engagement with the stage 4 Erebus Anomaly—the first of its kind since the Frontier incident. The mood among the staff was subdued, a silent acknowledgment of the risks involved.

Scientists whispered in small groups, their conversations tinged with unease. Most of them were seasoned veterans of dangerous missions, but the stakes of this one were unprecedented. They all knew the implications of failure—and success.

Ryan watched the ship’s progress on the central display. It was a sleek vessel, bristling with advanced sensors and reinforced with experimental nanomaterials designed to withstand the chaos. Yet, even this marvel of engineering was dwarfed by the sheer unpredictability of the Infinitum phenomenon.

As the vessel neared the outer edge of the system, Ryan’s thoughts drifted. He wondered about the crew aboard. Were they volunteers, or had they been coerced? He imagined their faces, tense with determination or fear, as they hurtled toward an unknown fate. For a brief moment, he thought of himself in their place, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Keira’s voice crackled over the comms, pulling Ryan out of his reverie.

“Ryan, did you hear the announcement? They’re moving closer. The ship’s almost at the boundary.”

Ryan exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m watching it. Can’t take my eyes off the feed. How’s it on your end?”

“Tense,” Keira replied, her tone laced with worry. “No one’s saying it out loud, but we all know this is a gamble. If they lose the ship, the organization might just send another. And another after that.”

“Expendable assets,” Ryan muttered. “That’s what we are to them. Expendable.”

Keira didn’t respond immediately. Finally, she said, “You’re not planning anything stupid, are you?”

Ryan’s stomach tightened. She knew him too well. “No. Just watching, like everyone else.”

“Good,” she said. “Because if you’re thinking about volunteering for something like this, I—”

“I said I’m just watching,” Ryan cut her off, though his voice softened. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I hope so,” she said, the line going quiet.

Minutes turned into hours as the ship approached the anomaly. The scientists in the substation’s main observation deck were glued to their monitors, their fingers flying over keyboards as they analyzed every fragment of data in real-time. The Erebus Anomaly appeared on their screens as a swirling vortex of chaotic energy, pulsating with an otherworldly rhythm. It was mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure.

Ryan leaned forward, his hands clasped together as he stared at the central display. The ship’s trajectory was steady, its sensors lighting up with streams of data. Then, the moment came. The ship crossed the invisible boundary into the anomaly’s reach.

Stolen novel; please report.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. The vessel continued its course, its systems functioning normally. But then, the feed flickered. A low hum filled the room as the monitors displayed a burst of static. The hum grew louder, turning into a shrill whine that made several scientists cover their ears. Then, silence.

“We’ve lost contact,” someone announced.

Ryan’s heart sank. The live feed was gone, replaced by a static-filled screen.

“Run diagnostics!” one of the lead scientists barked. “Reestablish the connection!”

Teams scrambled to comply, their fingers flying across keyboards. But the minutes dragged on, and there was no response from the ship. It was as if it had vanished into thin air.

Ryan joined the group gathered around the main console, listening to the frantic discussion.

“Could it have been disintegrated?” someone suggested.

“Unlikely,” another scientist countered. “The materials used in the ship’s construction were specifically designed to withstand this level of chaos. Disintegration should’ve been impossible.”

“Then where is it?”

The room fell silent. The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Ryan’s mind raced. Could the ship and its crew have been transported somewhere else, like the Frontier? If so, where? And what did it mean for the organization’s grand experiment?

The lead scientist finally spoke. “We’ll classify this as an unresolved incident for now. Continue monitoring for any signals or anomalies. This isn’t over yet.”

Back in his quarters, Ryan stared at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The disappearance of the ship had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t stop thinking about the crew and what might have happened to them.

His comms unit beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Keira.

“Ryan, tell me you’re not considering…”

“Considering what?” he asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.

“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped. “I know you. You’re thinking about volunteering for the next mission, aren’t you?”

Ryan hesitated. “Keira, this could be our chance to understand what’s really going on. If they’re figuring out how to breach the universe boundary, don’t you want to know?”

“Not at the cost of your life!” she shot back. “And don’t think for a second that you can just go without telling us. If you go, we all go. You know that.”

Her words hit him hard. She was right. The Frontier crew was a unit, bound by shared experience and loyalty. He couldn’t make this decision alone.

“I won’t do anything rash,” he said finally. “I promise.”

But even as he said the words, a part of him knew they weren’t entirely true.

In the days that followed, the station’s focus shifted. The disappearance of the ship wasn't taken lightly, but it hadn’t deterred them. If anything, it had only fueled their determination. New directives came from KA-10, outlining plans for further experiments and missions. The goal was clear: to understand the power of the Erebus Anomaly.

Ryan couldn’t shake the feeling that they were playing with forces far beyond their understanding. And yet, he was drawn to the mystery, to the possibility of uncovering answers. The question wasn’t just about where the ship had gone, but about the nature of the chaos itself.

As the station buzzed with activity, Ryan made a silent vow. He would find a way to uncover the truth—for himself, for the crew, and for everyone affected by the Infinitum chaos. But for now, he would wait. And watch.

The experiment wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.