The shrill chirping of an alarm pierced the morning stillness, dragging a drowsy young man from the depths of sleep. His long hair coating his eyes in a messy entanglement.
“Ugh…” he groaned, half-conscious, as he fumbled blindly across the cluttered surface of his desk. His hand knocked over a few items—a pen, a metal flask, something glass that hit the floor with a dull clink—but still, the maddening alarm persisted.
With a frustrated sigh, he sat up, stretching until his back gave a satisfying pop. Squinting around the dim room, he scanned his desk, finally spotting the small crystalline device on the floor. In his morning daze, he slid over the side of his bed awkwardly, reaching down to quell the incessant noise. With his face against the bed, he lazily swiped at it, missed, tried again, missed again, before finally surrendering to the noise as he slid completely out of bed and smacking the alarm off with more force than necessary. He lay on the crass carpet, weirdly comfortable, as he began to succumb to ill-natured sleeping habits.
Just as he began to fade away, a loud thud shook the wall beside him, followed by a muffled shout from the next room. The sudden noise finally got his brain ticking as he pulled himself off the ground, rubbing the back of his neck as he heard another thud.
With a wry grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, he scoffed. Guess someone’s having a rough morning, he thought.
With one last groggy stretch, he ran a hand through his tangled hair as he dragged himself to his feet. Standing up, he opened a window that led to a bleak rockwall. With a dry smile, he began another exciting day at Circh Station—whether he liked it or not.
Sliding his feet into worn slippers, he wandered over to a messy drawer and pulled out a wrinkled shirt. Across the front, his name was crudely stitched in bold letters: RYAN. The uneven threadwork had been clearly done by someone inexperienced or most likely by Ryan himself. With an oddly confident smile, he slid into his iconic RYAN shirt.
Picking up his crystalcomm, he caught a glimpse of a message from Vizor. A new set of orders lit up the screen, and Ryan’s brow furrowed, confused. Basic field duty? With a sigh, he stuffed the device into his pocket and wobbled toward the door.
To his dismay, he’d timed his exit accidentally with that of his hallmates. From the room to his left, Anneli stumbled out, looking thoroughly miserable, her hand tenderly pressed against her messy hair. Across the hall, Tom stood tall with a big toothy smile, his eyes locked on Anneli with unsettling joy.
Anneli let out a groggy yawn, rubbing one eye. “Hewow…” she mumbled, still halfway asleep.
“Morning, Miss Anneli!” Tom answered with an annoying amount of volume, completely ignoring Ryan.
Ryan rolled his eyes and decided to return the favor, choosing to ignore Tom entirely. “Anneli,” he said, pulling out his crystalcomm. “Did you get the field notice from Vizor?”
Anneli blinked and fished out her own crystalcomm. Her weary eyes slowly dragging across the notification, “We got field duty? Ugh,” she groaned dramatically. Her shoulders slumping as if the mere thought of work had drained the little energy she had.
Tom, who had clearly been waiting for his moment, sidestepped Ryan with exaggerated flair. “Fear not, Miss Anneli!” he proclaimed, clutching his chest like some tragic hero. “I’ll be there to protect you from this little man!” He announced while clutching his chest dramatically and pointing back at Ryan. His finger millimeters away from his face.
Anneli raised a brow puzzled, “What?”
Ryan didn’t even bother trying to figure out why he was getting blamed. With a quiet sigh, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Tom to bask in his own self-importance.
Anneli shuffled awkwardly to the side, avoiding Tom’s excited stare. “Umm… Sure…” she muttered, sliding around him carefully, as though navigating past some wild animal, speed-walking off in the opposite direction.
Adjusting himself in the mirror, Ryan finished detailing his fit. Smiling at the glory of himself, posing like some kind of clown—sorry, posing like some kind of hero—he played around with his curly, dirty blonde hair. Ryan was a ranger stationed at Circh Station. He was pretty run of the mill, save for his title. Though even his title had very little weight after the Shattering. Regardless, he at least took great pride in his role of watching over the Primordía Abyssal Forest.
The forest was once a lucrative resource, drawing in rare and delicious materials from the leaking Abyss. But today it was no more than an esoteric tangle of flora and residue that did little more than absorb abyssal condensation, a strange but necessary natural process that kept the region in balance. Ryan’s job, like the rest of the rangers, was to ensure homeostasis and to cull any unwanted abyssal growths before they spread. They were in essence nothing more than glorified gardeners, but it was a duty he was proud of.
He looked into his reflection’s fierce blue eyes, catching a glimpse of that mischievous, childlike spark as he smiled at himself one last time. With a deep breath, Ryan headed out of the locker room, his mission clear: food.
He shuffled through the dreary white hallways of Circh Station, keeping to the edges and scanning ahead—because more important than breakfast was avoiding her.
“Hey Ryan!” A shrill female suddenly shouted out from behind.
“Shit!—I-I mean, hey... Mera,” he stammered, trying to act casual as he leaned awkwardly against the hallway wall.
Mera stood there, her long, wavy black hair draping to her waist. One of her eyes was hidden beneath her bangs, but the other—a vivid, unsettling crimson-pink—peered out, locking onto Ryan with eerie intensity. Her smile, though wide, seemed perturbed for some reason.
“Di-d I scare you?” Mera asked in an excited yet somehow dead tone.
Ryan resigned himself to his fate with a sigh. Trying his best to be polite, he answered her, “Yup. y-you sure did.”
“That’s fun!” Mera chirped, her eye locked onto him.
“Y-yeah… fun,” Ryan muttered, inching away. “Anyway, I, uh... I gotta go to the bathroom so we can chat some other time? Alright,” he said, pointing in a random direction.
“But...” Mera tilted her head. “I saw you leave the men’s locker room. They have four toilets in there.”
Ryan blinked, scrambling for an excuse. “Yeah, well... when you scared me, it, uh—triggered something, you know? Nature called. Urgently.”
Mera’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, that’s okay! I’ll go with you!”
“Aaaaaaaa—well. No,” Ryan desperately tried to explain.
“Why not?” Mera pressed, stepping closer, her deadpan curiosity making the situation feel uncomfortably surreal.
“No.” Ryan said again as he backed away, shaking his head.
Mera tilted her head further, confusion etched across her pale face. “No, what?”
Before Ryan could retreat any farther, he bumped into something solid. A familiar, heavy presence loomed behind him.
“Watch it, you little ant,” a deep voice growled.
Ryan flinched in alarm before realizing who it was. He turned and groaned. “Oh. It’s just you, Tom...”
The two men locked eyes, matching scowls forming instinctively.
Mera stood awkwardly between them, glancing from one to the other. “Good morning, Mr. Weasel—”
“It’s Wisely!” Tom snapped, glaring at Ryan but addressing Mera.
Ryan grinned mischievously. “The irony of that name makes me so, so happy.”
Tom’s scowl deepened. “Get it through your girlfriend’s thick head—my name’s not Weasel.”
Ryan leaned in, pressing his forehead against Tom’s with a challenging smirk. “How about you get it through your thick head—that she’s not my girlfriend!”
The two men shoved against each other, heads locked like a pair of deer, their childish rivalry on full display.
Mera, clearly out of her depth, raised her hands up confused as she struggled to diffuse their little feud. “R-Ryan wha-what about the bathroom???” she asked in a shaky voice, trying to cut through the tension.
Ryan blinked, momentarily distracted by Mera’s awkward plea. “Ah—right! I’ve got business to attend to.” He backed away from Tom, sliding past him with exaggerated care. “Mera, why don’t you have a girl talk with Tom? He needs it.”
Tom opened his mouth to protest. “I don’t need—”
But before he could finish, Mera’s hand shot out, grabbing Tom by the collar with surprising strength. Her smile widened, and for the first time, genuine glee flickered behind her eerie gaze.
“Ryan said you need my help~!” she chirped, dragging Tom along with unsettling ease. “Let’s go to the cafeteria to chat~!”
Tom twisted and squirmed, but Mera’s grip was ironclad. “I’m good! I’m good! Really!” he protested as she hauled him down the hallway like a stubborn sack of cargo.
Ryan grinned to himself, satisfied with the chaotic scene he left in his wake. Better him than me.
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With that, he slipped into the bathroom to freshen up again. After a quick wash, he emerged and made his way toward the cafeteria, his stomach growling in anticipation.
The white hallways of Circh Station stretched endlessly, each turn as drab and lifeless as the last. But Ryan didn’t mind—after a morning like that, a dull walk was a small blessing. Finally, the cafeteria doors came into view, and the promise of food brightened his mood.
Most of the rangers at Circh Station were idly enjoying their breakfast, chatting quietly or scrolling through their crystalcomms. Ryan couldn’t help but smile as he passed by Tom, who looked like he was trapped in a conversation with Mera. Her animated rambling had him pinned, and the exasperated look on Tom’s face made Ryan’s grin widen. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and Ryan’s smirk grew smug as he gave a slow, deliberate wave.
Satisfied with his small victory, Ryan made his way to the menu screen displaying the breakfast specials. After scrolling through the options, he settled on Karakite tenders fried in Vawac belly fat with a side of gravy and biscuits. “Yum,” he muttered under his breath, already imagining the taste.
He stood patiently in line, sneaking glances at Tom and Mera from across the cafeteria. Mera was gesturing wildly, her crimson-pink eye wide with excitement, while Tom sat rigid, visibly overwhelmed. Ryan chuckled under his breath and kept his gaze locked on Tom, making sure the big guy noticed.
When his ranger code was called, Ryan gave Tom one last smug wave before retrieving his food. The aroma hit him instantly—a mouthwatering blend of savory and sweet scents that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He exhaled contentedly, letting the comforting smell take him away for a brief moment. This is the best part of the day, he thought, tray in hand, as he scanned the room for a place to sit.
Spotting a familiar group of old squad mates, he carefully navigated the rows of tables, holding his tray high to avoid knocking anyone on the head.
“Morning, Chris,” Ryan greeted as he approached. “Mind if I sit here?”
A dark-haired, stern-looking man glanced up from his plate, a rare smile softening his sharp features. “Sure thing, Rasor.”
Ryan slid into the open seat next to a half-asleep man slouched over his tray. “Korm, right?” Ryan asked with a curious glance at the sleeping figure. “Did you guys have some late-night mission?”
“Nah, Korm just stayed up late playing games on his crystalcomm." Chris explained, looking a little disappointed.
Ryan chuckled, picking up his fork. “Not much else to do around here, huh?”
Chris shook his head. “Nope. Outside of cleaning up Rak’da messes, it’s been dead slow—just community service and yard work.”
Before Ryan could respond, the girl next to Chris chimed in, brushing thick waves of chestnut hair from her face. “You in the new field team, Rasor?” she asked, her hazel eyes curious.
“Uh… yeah. As of today, I guess,” Ryan answered, spearing a tender with his fork. “How’d you know?”
She shrugged with a small smile. “Deductive reasoning~! You’re in Anneli’s squad, right?”
Ryan nodded as he swallowed. “Yup, but she’s not a big fan of our new squadmates.”
Chris chimed in, “We heard her mumbling about it in the lunch line earlier. She wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Ryan poked at his meal thoughtfully. “She’s an odd one. I’ve always wondered why she became a ranger. She’s got the skills, but she seems to hate anything Ranger-related.”
Chris tilted his head. “You never asked her?”
Ryan shook his head. “Nah. We don’t really talk much—just a professional thing. I wouldn’t mind getting to know her, but... He trailed off, glancing around the room. “She’s been real distant. And Tom... well, Tom freaks her out.” He paused, lowering his voice. “Vizor even contacted me about her requesting a transfer to a different squad.”
Chris waved his hands, as if searching for the right word. “That’s... uh…”
“Awkward,” Brie supplied helpfully, smirking.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Chris agreed with a grin.
Ryan gave a small shrug. “Not to mention our new squad captain is that new weird guy from Fideroa.” His voice dropped as his gaze wandered across the cafeteria.
“Oh! You mean the hunk of a guy with the long silver hair?” Brie excitedly bumped in.
Chris, annoyed by her remark, leaned in with a serious look. “He’s one of Ghast’s dogs. So at least you’ve gotten yourself a pretty strong captain.”
Ryan shrugged with a bored look, his eyes naturally drifting past the two and resting on Anneli.
In the far corner of the room, Anneli sat alone, staring out the window with a vacant expression. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting soft patterns across her face, but her mind seemed far away, lost in thought.
“She’s always sitting by herself,” Brie observed quietly, following Ryan’s gaze.
“Yeah…” Ryan murmured. “Maybe I should try talking to her more.”
Chris gave him a knowing smile. “Might be worth a shot. Better than letting Tom annoy her to death.”
Ryan chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, definitely.”
For now, though, he stayed seated, quietly eating his breakfast as he considered the solemn Anneli.
After Ryan wiped the last crumbs from his hands, he parted ways with his old squad mates and made his way toward Vizor’s office for his new assignment. Few people at Circh Station ever spoke about Vizor without some mix of awe and discomfort. Even among the rangers, Vizor stood apart—a relic—rare and unsettling.
He wasn’t just old—he was a Revenant Stalker, one of the last of his kind. A mechanoid from the age of the ENN.KORR. Vizor had lived through wars, extinctions, and centuries of change. Somehow, he had outlasted entire civilizations, only to end up here in Circh Station, reduced to nothing more than a glorified computer system.
Ryan arrived last, as usual. He slipped into the dimly lit room, careful to shut the heavy door behind him without a sound. The air inside was stale, thick with a quiet stillness that clung to his skin. The space was bare, save for a massive, jagged white rock that dominated the center of the room. It looked uncomfortable, angular, and out of place—like it had been torn from some ancient ruin. And yet, perched atop the cold stone, sat the imposing frame of Vizor.
Vizor’s appearance always left Ryan on edge. The mechanoid’s body was concealed beneath a drab, translucent cloak, the fabric catching faint rays of light that filtered through the room’s thick curtains. The few slivers of luminance illuminated Vizor just enough to reveal glimpses of his sharp, angular form beneath the ghostly shroud.
The most striking part of Vizor was his snout—a long, square structure that jutted forward with mechanical precision. The top of it tapered to a razor-sharp peak, while the bottom remained squared, its underjaw lined with four serrated blades that gave the appearance of jagged, tooth-like fangs. Protruding from the sides of the back end of his head were four bladed horn-like protrusions that gave the mechanoid a sinister appearance—like a demon forged in steel.
The way light filtered through the cloak's thin fabric only deepened the sense of unease. Shadows distorted and swirled across his concealed frame, teasing an outline too aggressive to belong to something inert. Every edge beneath the shroud suggested a shape built for violence—something coiled and waiting. Even when Vizor was still, Ryan couldn’t convince himself the mechanoid was at rest.
Ryan hesitated, as he always did in the presence of the Revenant Stalker, lingering at the threshold before forcing himself to approach. The silence was thick between them, broken only by the faint hum of the station’s machinery, far in the background.
He cleared his throat but said nothing. Words always felt unnecessary—and unwise—in Vizor’s presence.
The mechanoid tilted his head with a slow, deliberate motion, the faint light glinting off the razor-sharp contours of his snout.
"Greetings, Mr. Rasor... I am glad you’ve arrived in a timely manner.” The words rolled from his mechanical throat, cold and abrasive, like scraping steel on stone.
Ryan shuddered, snapping into a salute, his face dressed in unease.
Vizor’s glowing optics flickered briefly, as if savoring the tension in the room. “Now that the field squad has assembled,” he continued, slithering along the jagged surface of the rock beneath him, “I remind you—this will be our only meeting in person. From here on, all instructions will come through your comms units and your squad captain.”
The mechanoid’s movements were slow, deliberate, each shift accompanied by the grating sound of steel scraping against stone, sending jagged vibrations through the room. Ryan winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears as Vizor’s massive frame coiled fluidly to the apex of the rock, like an old dragon he hung his head high.
“There was a disturbance that was detected at approximately 0400,” Vizor said, his voice a low rasp that filled every corner of the dim room. “It appears to be Rak’da activity... but it would be in our interest to—investigate.” He lingered on the word, as though savoring the implications.
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Vizor’s head dipped down from the height of the rock. His snout stopped just shy of their new squad captain, his glowing optics mere inches from his face. “Any questions, dear lambs of Eve?” he hissed, his voice dripping with cold amusement.
Ryan’s new squad captain stepped up. He stood tall with a surprisingly wide smile. “Sir, Field Team Captain Ka’lou Basil,” he introduced himself. “Shall we proceed with the traditional control protocols?” he asked with a strangely calm and bright tone, as if the tension in the room was nothing more than an afterthought.
With a fluid, unnatural motion, Vizor spun his head upside down, his mechanical snout now almost brushing against Ka’lou’s nose. His optics pulsed slightly. “Correct. Control orders are to be followed strictly within the forest. Stick to the grid points. But…” He paused his voice, dropping to a sinister whisper. “Should anything go wrong, contact me immediately—before human error muddies the waters.”
“Yes, sir!” Ka’lou answered unfazed.
“Dismissed…” Vizor whispered as it awkwardly dragged its head across the air. Making sure to let everyone gaze down its glowing throat.
As soon as they exited Vizor’s office, the group exhaled in collective relief, tension bleeding out with each step.
The squad of five—Ka’lou, Ryan, Mera, Anneli, and Tom—had, as of that morning, officially become Circh Station’s new field team. Their job was to monitor the eastern border of the Primordía Abyssal Forest, an anomalous stretch of land known for absorbing the abyssal dredge that seeped out from the shattered Translates. Circh Station, along with its sister site, Trant Station guarded the forest’s edges. But neither outpost had seen real action in years—not since well before the Shattering.
Most of the personnel stationed there were easygoing souls looking for some purpose—or just a place to coast by quietly.
Ka’lou clapped his hands together with a grin. “We’ve only been a team for a few seconds but let’s do our best out there today!” he declared with unbridled enthusiasm, pointing at each person in turn until they responded.
Mera shifted uncomfortably, eyes glued to the floor. “S-Sure…” she mumbled, barely audible.
Ryan gave a lazy salute, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Aye aye,” he deadpanned, clearly in different wavelength.
“Sure thing, you filthy He-beast!” Tom shouted with far too much enthusiasm, earning a collective glare from the group.
“Yes, sir!” Anneli chimed in politely, though her tone suggested she was clearly running her mouth of muscle memory as she stood half-awake.
Ka’lou chuckled. “Despite Tom's... unnecessary hate, I feel lucky to have such a skilled squad. I’m sure we’ll get to learn more about each other today~!”
Ryan raised a hand. “Can we just call you Lou?”
Ka’lou blinked, a little thrown off. “Well, technically Lou’s more like my middle name, so—”
“Lou it is!” Ryan cut him off, already turning on his heel. “See you in ten at the main lobby. Later, squad.” He gave a limp wave over his shoulder, not even waiting for a response
“Uhh—” Lou tried to protest but was once again interrupted.
“Later, you waste of oxygen.” Tom bellowed at Ryan, before turning to Anneli with an exaggerated grin. “See you later, my dearest Anneli~!” he squealed, prancing off with surprising grace for someone his size. His bulky frame moving with such joyful skips gave the motion an uncanny, almost unsettling quality.
The remaining three stared in horror as Tom skipped down the hallway.
“R-right…” Anneli muttered, brushing some stray hair from her face. She gave Ka’lou an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, Lou.” With a quick glance toward the distant hallway where Tom had disappeared, she turned and walked off in the opposite direction.
Ka’lou opened his mouth to respond. “Wait calling me Lo—”
“See you soon, Captain Lou~,” Mera whispered suddenly, right next to his ear. Ka’lou pulled back in, surprised by the sudden closeness. Mera gave him an impish grin before scampering after Ryan, disappearing around the corner with light, hurried steps.
Lou’s smile—sorry—Ka’lou’s smile remained but his deep frown betrayed him. Dropping his head, he put his face in his palms and screamed into them. Before snapping his head back up, “What a spirited bunch! We’ll get along great!” he announced to himself. His eye twitching as he turned to face the doorway leading to Vizor's office.