17 months Ago—June 15th…6 days after the attack on the Twin Stations
The resounding echo of thunder rumbled through the oppressive gloom of the forest. Droplets of abyssal condensation seemed to ebb and flow in every which way but down. Above, the gray coalescence of clouds blanketed the forest in a stifling darkness, their surface speckled with faint flickers of abyssal Kyyr. The residue emitting a low, pink glow that intertwined with the warped blossoms below—once rigid and proud, now they drooped and twisted unnaturally, reacting to some unseen force.
Under the warped canopy, a large group of rangers slowly made their way through the eerie forest. The faint tap-tap of droplets against their uniforms was the only sound accompanying their otherwise silent procession, a rhythm that underscored the stormy ambiance.
Seldom flashes of pink light revealed their silhouettes against the mangled forms of the abyssal trees. Each step was deliberate, their synchronization a testament to training, yet it did little to quell the unease that hung heavy in the air.
Their destination loomed ahead, stark and foreboding—a massive black monolith rising from the forest floor like a jagged wound. Its surface seemed to drink the faint light around it, its edges blurred by an aura of palpable wrongness.
Despite their numbers, an unspoken dread rippled through the group as they finally halted before the monolith, the oppressive weight of its presence pressing down on them all.
From the trees shadows, an exceptionally tall ranger stepped forward, his imposing figure towering a head above the others as he approached the ship. With practiced motion, he activated a screen on the device strapped to his wrist, its faint glow casting a cold reflection against his visor as he studied the readings. After a moment, his gloved hand moved to adjust a secondary device affixed to his chest, each motion deliberate and precise.
Satisfied, he gave a sharp nod to the group behind him, signaling the rest to advance. Without hesitation, the rangers split into two large formations, their disciplined movements carving through the shadows like twin currents in a dark sea.
They flanked the dark monolith, their formations precise as they navigated the bent and torn trees ensnared beneath its looming presence. The twisted branches seemed to claw at their uniforms, grasping like spectral fingers as the rangers maneuvered carefully through the eerie tangle.
The tall ranger led one of the splinter cells, his imposing figure cutting a distinct silhouette against the dim glow of the forest. He advanced cautiously, his steps deliberate, until he raised a gloved hand, signaling the group to halt.
Up ahead, slumped against a gnarled black abyssal tree, a ranger sat with his helmet off, his head frozen in place as he looked ahead. The tall ranger tensed his muscles when he noticed the figure, scanning the surroundings he alone began to approach.
As he drew closer, he noticed the figure's chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The tall ranger’s grip on his weapon tightened, his gaze darting around the area, scanning the oppressive shadows even more carefully.
His eyes shifted upward, stopping on what appeared to be an entrance carved into the monolith—a dark, gaping void perched ominously far above the treetops. Its emptiness seemed to draw the eye—a black deeper than dark of the monolith. A void etched into black.
Leading down from the shadowy gateway, a Ranger-made zipline device stretched taut, its cable glinting faintly as it disappeared into the tangled chaos of the mangled branches below. The device was secured to a cluster of instruments partially obscured by the squashed trees, their warped forms twisting around the machinery like skeletal hands trying to reclaim it.
He carefully reached the slumped figure, his tall shadow draping over the unmoving man like a shroud.
The slumped ranger’s eyes were fixed on the black void of the monolith, unblinking and glassy. His face was ghostly white, his expression eerily vacant, as if the nothingness of the monolith had reached into him and stolen whatever thoughts he once had.
“Ranger…” the tall ranger called in a low, urgent tone.
There was no response.
He knelt down, his movements slow and deliberate, and placed a firm hand on the slumped man’s shoulder. Giving it a light shake, he called out again, “Ranger…”
There was no response.
His gaze drifted to the man’s chestplate; there on a small plaque it read Admon Cass. Leaning back slightly, he tried once more, his voice soft but insistent. “Ranger Admon?”
Still, there was nothing.
He exhaled quietly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the unresponsive man. Turning to his cell of rangers, he signaled them over with a sharp motion.“Aspen,” he called out to one of the rangers, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable edge of urgency, “he’s in shock.”
A ranger emerged from the group, her movements brisk but steady as she stepped up beside the taller figure. She crouched slightly, her sharp gaze scanning Admon’s unresponsive features with practiced precision.“He’s dissociating,” she muttered, her voice low but certain. “Captain Morray, I’ll have my squad establish a new checkpoint here while we treat him.”
Morray thought for a second before he nodded, his gaze lingering on the unresponsive figure for a moment longer. “I’ll notify Hoslow’s cell,” he answered softly as he rose to his feet.
Including Aspen five rangers splintered from the larger cell. Morray, the tall ranger, pulled out a glowing prysm from a compartment on his shoulder and let his Kyyr flow into it. He spoke his thoughts into the prysm, “Hoslow, we’ve reached the vessel’s entrance. We’ve located a member of Ra’mon’s squad—he’s alive but unresponsive. Aspen is administering treatment as we speak. Over.”
The prysm pulsed faintly before a voice reverberated through it, steady but laced with quiet tension. “Copy that; we’re still following the ship’s contour on our end. Over,” Hoslow replied.
Morray nodded to himself, his grip firm around the prysm. “We’ll proceed into the vessel…”
The ranger cell slid up the zipline, the condensation in the air fighting their ascent into the yawning maw of the dark vessel. Morray took a deep breath as he smoothly climbed inside, his voice breaking the silence: “Lights on.”
In an instant, beams of light flared to life, slicing through the suffocating darkness like knives. Shadows recoiled, revealing glimpses of the corridor’s unsettling contours, their shapes shifting and warping under the harsh illumination.
The entryway opened into an unnervingly organic hallway, its walls lined with small, bulbous ridges that glistened faintly under the harsh beams of light. The uneven shapes seemed to shift subtly, their surfaces alive with an eerie texture, before disappearing into the darkness beyond.
Despite his towering frame, Morray seemed dwarfed by the hallway’s sheer scale. The arched ceiling loomed high above, its textured surface casting strange, rippling shadows. In the oppressive vastness, he appeared no larger than a child lost in the belly of some unknowable beast.
Morray scanned the room, his light sweeping across the unsettling contours until it landed on a series of ranger guiding lamps. Their steady, rhythmic glow offered a small measure of solace, cutting through the oppressive gloom. The lamps, left behind by the previous control squad, dotted a pathway like faint beacons, guiding the way deeper into the unknown.
With a sharp gesture, he signaled his cell to follow. Together, they ventured further into the darkness, their lights slicing through the void as the shadows seemed to close in around them.
The entrails of the vessel were illogical, winding tunnels, gaping holes, stairways, and paths that spiraled into nothing. It was as though the structure had been built with no purpose other than to fill the void, a labyrinth born of madness and absence.
It was wasteful.
The cell moved in disciplined silence, following the faint, rhythmic glow of the ranger lamps. Their path wove through the eerie hallways, up and down shafts that echoed with their movements, and through cavernous rooms where pools of black, oily substances glistened in large vats, their surfaces rippling unnaturally under the glare of their lights.
Their footsteps echoed against the vessel's illogical architecture, the oppressive silence stretching with each step. Morray's eyes caught a faint glow ahead—different from the ranger lamps. The corridor opened suddenly, the walls giving way to an expanse so vast it seemed to dwarf even the shadows that clung to the vessel.
The rhythmic patter of abyssal rain echoed softly through the space, its sound amplified by the tremendous emptiness around them. The delicate harmony of the rain against the glass offered an unexpected relief, a fleeting reprieve from the stifling tension of the winding halls they had left behind.
Across from them loomed a wall of impenetrable darkness, its void-like expanse connected to their side by a strange, alien bridge. The structure stretched across the chasm, its surface uneven and faintly glistening under their lights, exuding an unsettling, organic quality.
Near the far end of the bridge, a figure lay motionless—a person.
Morray and the cell slowed their approach, their movements deliberate as their lights swept over the alien bridge, the beams cutting through the darkness before vanishing into the consuming void beyond
A ranger to Morray’s side kept their eyes fixed on a motion-sensor, the faint, rhythmic beeping breaking the oppressive silence. Step by step, they edged closer to the motionless figure, tension mounting with each cautious movement, until Morray raised his hand, signaling the cell to stop.
He then advanced alone, his shadow stretching across the alien bridge as he approached the fallen ranger. The figure lay on its side, surrounded by a scattered mess of tools. Two helmets rested nearby—one pristine, the other marred by streaks of vomit that trailed toward the figure laying before Morray.
The ranger was curled into a fetal position, her arms wrapped fiercely around herself. Her eyes were shut so tightly that the deep creases on her face looked almost painful. She was alive but unconscious, her shallow breaths barely audible amidst the stillness.
Morray’s gaze shifted away from her, scanning the vast, alien bridge. The faint flicker of light caught his attention—overturned ranger lamps scattered near the edge of the entrance to the opposing chamber that lay ahead. The lamps sputtered weakly, their light barely illuminating the contour of the path ahead.
“Carseval squad—get her to Aspen’s checkpoint.” Morray commanded.
Five rangers stepped forward without hesitation, their movements efficient as they carefully lifted the unconscious ranger. Her dark hair flowed down like a shadow in an eerie, weightless dance, swaying with their steady steps as they began their trek back across the bridge. Their lights cut through the consuming darkness ahead, flickering faintly as they disappeared into the void.
Morray exhaled slowly, his breath steady as he signaled the squad to resume their journey. The ranger lamps ahead were placed erratically, with some toppled to their sides.
Crossing into the opposing chamber, Morray frowned as he walked past the lamps, sharpening his Kyyr as he pressed forward.
The cell moved cautiously and followed him as they entered another array of winding corridors and cavernous rooms where the lamps flickered like fragile lifelines amidst the void.
Morray’s steps slowed as his focus darted between the dimly lit path and the looming shadows beyond. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint scuff of boots against the ground and the steady hum of the squad’s equipment. Each lamp ahead felt like a solitary beacon of safety, yet the spaces between them stretched endlessly, the darkness waiting to swallow them whole.
Movement.
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“Sir…” a hushed voice crackled over Morray's comms, barely louder than a whisper. “Movement detected approximately seven meters ahead.”
Morray’s steps froze mid-stride, his sharp gaze snapping to the darkness beyond the faint glow of the nearest lamp. He raised a clenched fist, signaling the squad to halt. The oppressive silence deepened as the team stilled, their lights cutting into the void but revealing nothing.
His voice came low and steady over the comms. “Confirm the source.”
“It’s approaching,” the ranger on the motion sensor calmly informed Morray as the cell shifted into a wedge formation.
The rangers raised their guns in unison, aiming into the oppressive void ahead. “Steady…” Morray whispered through his comms, his voice firm but measured. “Shoot on command.”
The silence was palpable, broken only by the faint, rhythmic ping of the motion sensor reverberating through the abyss.
“Contact in five,” the ranger counted, their voice low and controlled. The team’s focus sharpened as they aimed into the nothingness. “Four.”
Moray stared into the darkness, his Kyyr warping around him lightly.
“Three—two—”
A figure materialized from the void, shuffling forward with uneven steps.
“Hold it,” Morray commanded, his voice cutting through the comms. He squinted into the dim light, the figure resolving into the shape of a fellow ranger. Recognition flickered in his eyes. “Ra’mon!” he muttered, signaling the cell to lower their weapons.
Ra’mon wobbled over, his black and white hair swaying as he walked over to Morray. He was pale, his face a confusing grimace torn between a groan and a gag.
“Ba-back up?” he stammered weakly, each breath escaping in small sputters of wispy moisture that hung in the chilled air.
“Ra’mon, what happened?!” Morray called out, striding toward the weary man. “Where’s your helmet?”
Ra’mon’s head lifted sluggishly, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Morray’s visor with a vacant yet haunted stare. “D…”
“What?” Morray asked, stepping closer.
Ra’mon’s eyes locked onto Morray’s visor, his gaze trembling with intensity. “D-don’t…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
“Don’t what?” Morray pressed, leaning in slightly.
“They shouldn’t… they—they…” Ra’mon’s words spilled out in broken fragments, his breath hitching as his body swayed unsteadily. “You can’t.”
“What are you talking about? Where’s your communication prysm?”
“Don’t!” Ra’mon suddenly shouted, his voice cracking as his shaking hand rose to point at the rangers behind Morray. His arm wavered, but the desperation in his movement was unmistakable. “Don’t let them see—”
“See what?” Morray demanded, his voice sharp now, urgency bubbling into mild frustration.
Ra’mon leaned heavily against Morray, his frail frame trembling as he reached up and clutched at Morray’s helmet. His voice dropped, hoarse and weak. “What it did,” he muttered, his words dripping with dread. “Those damn three-eyed bastards brought a thinking—no, a hating monster.”
Morray stared at Ra'mon’s haunted expression, the man’s fragmented words echoing in his mind. Whatever lay ahead had pushed a seasoned ranger to the brink. He straightened, pushing down the unease creeping into his chest. “Madsen, Rolf—with me,” he ordered, his voice steady despite the growing knot in his stomach. “The rest of you, set up a checkpoint.”
The rangers exchanged quick, uncertain glances before Madsen and Rolf stepped forward to join Morray. He continued, his tone unwavering. “Wait for Hoslow’s cell at the bridge point. And take Ra’mon with you.”
“Yes, sir!” the remaining squad captains responded in unison, moving quickly to assist Ra’mon.
“Morray!” Ra’mon cried out, his voice cracking with desperation as he grabbed for Morray’s arm. “It—it’s disgusting…” he muttered, his words barely audible as the others pulled him away.
Morray stood still, his expression hidden behind the reflective visor of his helmet. He said nothing, his posture rigid and cold as his gaze lingered on Ra’mon’s trembling form. The faint shuffle of boots and the sputtering light of the ranger lamps accompanied the cell as they vanished into the darkness beyond.
“Sir…” Madsen’s soft voice broke the silence, stirring Morray from his watch.
“What is it?” Morray asked sternly.
“Why us two?” Madsen asked, glancing at Rolf, who gave a slight nod of agreement.
Morray lowered his head slightly, exhaling. “Rolf, you were part of the ORPA Green Esoteric Branch, correct?”
Rolf nodded. “Yes, indeed.”
“And Madsen,” Morray continued, his visor tilting toward him, “you served in the Cerulean Branch, didn’t you?”
Madsen hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “That’s correct.”
Morray straightened, his voice firm. “Ra’mon’s squad clearly saw something they couldn’t stomach. I chose you two because I trust you have the experience—and the guts—to handle whatever the hell they saw.”
Madsen pressed a gloved hand against his helmet, his voice tinged with unease. “I’m warning you, sir… I’ve only ever dealt with Gray Blight corpses.”
“Let’s hope so…” Morray muttered before he signaled the two onward.
Following the faint glow of the ranger lamps, they eventually found themselves in a long corridor, far wider than any they had traversed before. The walls seemed to hum faintly, casting an eerie luminescence that barely pushed back the surrounding gloom.
Morray’s visor caught a dim light ahead—the unmistakable glimmer of Ra’mon squad’s prysm crystal, glowing softly in the oppressive shadows of the hallway. Beside it, slumped against the cold, ridged wall, was another ranger, huddled tightly with their arms wrapped around their knees.
They approached the huddled form with deliberate caution, the faint glow of the prysm casting a dim light over the figure’s profile. Shadows danced across the walls as Morray’s visor caught a clearer view of the ranger’s features.
“Emmy?” Morray called softly, his voice laced with both recognition and concern.
The faint illumination revealed her short blonde hair, streaked with specks of lime green, now dulled and matted. She remained motionless, her knees drawn tightly to her chest.
Morray stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. The prysm’s faint glow revealed more of her condition—she was alive but frozen in place. Much like Ranger Admon, her body was paralyzed, her eyes wide and glassy, staring blankly into the dim light.
A faint, involuntary shudder rippled through her as the shadows from the prysm’s glow danced across her pale face. Morray crouched beside her, his gloved hand hovering briefly before resting gently on her shoulder.
“Emmy…” Morray whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the oppressive silence. He straightened slowly, his helmet's glassy visor reflecting her paralyzed form.
“Madsen, stay with her. Rolf, make sure you’re recording,” he instructed, pointing to the small recording device on his own chest before gesturing to the one affixed to Rolf’s armor.
The two rangers exchanged quick glances before nodding, their movements sharp and precise.
Morray turned, his light falling on the last lamp, its faint glow casting flickering shadows across the corridor. The light seemed ever fragile, barely holding back the suffocating void.
Beyond it, to their immediate right, a dull light seeped into the corridor, emanating from an unseen doorway or aperture. It was a familiar gray light—the residual glow of the outsite.
Morray and Rolf both slowly made their way over. Rolf lagged far behind, his light flickering uncertainly as Morray pressed forward, his breaths slow and controlled.
He could feel sweat dripping down his forehead as he reached the threshold of the abyss beyond. He hesitated briefly, his mind racing in every which way as his stomach twisted into a harrowing dread. He tensed his muscles before exhaling. He stepped forward and reluctantly looked inside.
“...” Morray froze, his body stiffening before he staggered back a step. “What… the fuck?” he muttered, the words dragged by the sight before him.
Before him stretched a vast, cavernous room, its scale only matched by the grotesque precision of its contents. The walls were lined with massive vats, their translucent surfaces revealing what could only be described as organized gore. Human remains floated within, neatly divided into sections—bones, organs, flesh—all cataloged with an unnatural order.
But that wasn’t the worst.
Beyond the vats, scattered throughout the room itself, lay the countless mangled bodies of Triclyrocerids.
The Triclyrocerids’ serpentine bodies had been grotesquely butchered and reassembled into crude mockeries of human shapes. Their once-elegant tails had been torn off and twisted around their necks, forming gruesome nooses. The hand-like tips of those tails were shoved down their mouths, their clawed fingers grotesquely protruding through the empty sockets where their eyes once were. Their ribcages had been hollowed out, their lower segments mutilated and shoved inward, along with their extra limbs, compacted into the cavities as if to mock a semblance of human anatomy. Their necks were gruesomely distorted, pulled inward, and ripped either outwardly or inwardly depending on the specimen, creating jagged, unnatural bends. Their hands, once deadly and precise, had been smashed into bloody lumps, leaving behind vaguely hand-shaped masses of pulp and flesh.
These grotesque effigies sat in an eerie, unnatural silence, their mutilated bodies contorted and arranged into poses of grief and sorrow. Some knelt as if in prayer, their shattered hands clasped together in mock supplication, while others curled inward, their heads bowed as though weeping before the vats of human remains.
Morray stepped forward, his breaths shallow and uneven as his wide eyes darted over the grotesque scene. Terror gripped him, and he choked back the rising bile in his throat.
He shuddered as his eyes rested on the center of the room.
A large growth blossomed from the center of the room. Sharp, jagged bones erected themselves from the mass, their sinewy muscle clinging tightly to the curved bone. From the serrated tips, veiny strands of greasy flesh dangled, their oily surfaces glinting faintly under the dim light.
The strands swayed gently, burdened by something... something moving. Shadows writhed and shifted within the strands, their motion subtle but unmistakable, a malformed pale thing that at a glance seemed more like a violent mass than a body.
Morray hesitated, his boots rooted to the oily ground just beyond the edge of the doorway. Every instinct screamed at him to retreat, but his gaze remained fixed on the grotesque mass. His stomach sank as the growth shifted in place, its sinewy strands rippling, revealing its underside.
“No…” he muttered as tears pooled at the seems of his eyes.
There was a body.
A body grotesquely attached to the underside of the cancerous growth, its form twisted and contorted amidst the sinewy mass of bone, scale, and claws.
It moved, trembling with shallow, unnatural breaths.
It was unfortunately alive.
It was unfortunately awake.
And it was unfortunately human.
Morray stood frozen, his camera capturing every agonizingly long second. The lens recorded it all—capturing the miserable existence.
The footage rolled on, unyielding, capturing Morray’s ragged breaths echoing in his helmet and the creature’s harrowing whimpers interspersed with unintelligible babbling.
Morray’s breathing grew faster and more uneven as the footage played its final moments and abruptly cut to black.
The image of the grotesque room refused to fade even after all this time. The footage had seared itself into Bern’s mind. He stood silently on the rooftop, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where Gira had disappeared. His hand clenched tightly at his side, the muscles trembling as the memory of the footage replayed—unrelenting and vivid.
His eyes drifted upward, settling vacantly on the sky, its vastness offering no solace. The weight of what he had seen lingered, pressing against him like an invisible force, as if the heavens themselves bore witness to the horrors etched into his memory.
“Bern?” a voice called, cutting through the stillness and snapping him out of his daze.
He blinked, his vacant gaze breaking as he turned toward the source of the voice. The weight of his memories lingered in his expression, his clenched hand slowly relaxing as he grounded himself back in the present.
“Xizu…” he muttered, his voice soft.
“Are you alright, honey?” Xizu asked, concern lacing her tone as she approached him.
“I was just remembering...” he replied quietly, his gaze drifting back to the horizon.
She sighed. “I hope you didn’t show Gira the bodycam footage from my brother’s expedition!” she said, poking his cheek.
“I didn’t… he escaped before I cou—”
Xizu flicked him lightly on the side of his head, cutting him off. “You idiot! I’m glad he got away before you could show him that nasty video,” she huffed, though her scolding tone carried a touch of relief.
“Sorry…” he answered sheepishly, avoiding her gaze.
Xizu’s brow shot up. “Wait! Shit—you let Gira get away?”
“Well… K-11 bailed him,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.
“Ugh.” She exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose before placing a hand on her forehead in frustration. “I have Lucas on the line downstairs—he was so excited to talk to Gira!”
“I gave him a crystalcomm,” Bern offered. “We could arrange for Lucas to call him. Here, I’ll share his ID in the family group chat.”
He pulled out his crystalcomm, scrolling quickly as he searched for Gira’s contact. The faint glow of the device reflected off his face as he tapped the screen.
“Oh well—guess I’ll go give Lucas the heads up,” Xizu said with a resigned sigh, turning on her heel. As she walked back toward the building, she threw a glance over her shoulder. “Try and catch that little bugger before dinner, alright?” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“Sure thing, honey. Love you~!” Bern called after her, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Love you too,” Xizu replied, her voice trailing off as she disappeared into the building, heading back to Bern’s office below.
Bern lingered on the roof, his gaze drifting upward. The blue sky stretched endlessly above, clear and vast, allowing an unobstructed view of the Ermacles Elevator. Its towering structure gleamed in the sunlight, a monumental reminder of their current situation.
He let out a deep exhale, the sound carrying the weight of his thoughts as the wind stirred gently around him