The stage seemed to exhale as the last hum of the cameras powering down dissolved into an oppressive silence. Above, a massive screen descended with a mechanical hiss, its sheer size swallowing the audience and sealing the contestants into an eerie, claustrophobic stillness. The vibrant lights dimmed, their sharp beams fragmenting into angular shadows that stretched and writhed across the stage, mimicking something alive.
Zaria’s breath hitched as the atmosphere shifted, the air thickening with an almost tangible weight that pressed against her chest. Her heart pounded, her pulse a steady drumbeat in the tense quiet.
Luxor Vael’s ever-present grin faded, his theatrical veneer peeling away to reveal something cold and calculating beneath. The shimmering scales adorning his body caught the fractured light, refracting it in mesmerizing yet unsettling ripples that seemed to flow across his skin like living liquid. His eyes, now devoid of their earlier flamboyant mirth, burned with a predatory gleam that sent a chill racing down Zaria’s spine. The carnival-like absurdity was gone; in its place stood something primal and dangerous.
To her left, movement drew her attention, pulling her gaze to one of the other contestants. The creature shifted, its armor groaning under the strain of its massive, muscular frame. It stood like a monolith, its broad shoulders rising and falling with measured breaths. Twin yellow eyes, slit like a predator’s, locked onto Zaria, unblinking and unnerving.
A low, guttural hiss rumbled from the depths of its chest, the vibration resonating through the stage and rattling her very bones. It wasn’t just a sound; it was a warning, primal and raw, like the growl of a beast sizing up its prey. The creature’s silhouette loomed over her, its form alien yet eerily reminiscent of some long-extinct predator—something nature had perfected for survival and dominance.
Zaria’s body tensed, an involuntary shudder coursing through her as she stared at the monstrous figure. Her scientific brain, so quick to analyze and categorize, faltered. What even is this thing? she thought, her thoughts scattered like startled birds.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, her mother’s voice whispered, reprimanding her for considering the use of undignified words—words unfit for a scientific mind. But in this moment, Zaria didn’t care about dignity or decorum. Scientific mind be damned, she thought. If ever there were a time for those forbidden phrases, it was now.
She bit down on the string of expletives threatening to spill from her lips, gripping the edges of the podium for support. The room felt alive with tension, every shadow a threat, every sound amplified in the stillness. Whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be a game—it would be survival. And she wasn’t entirely sure where she stood in the food chain.
Zaria forced herself to remain still, inhaling a shaky breath as she fought the instinct to shrink away. Fear twisted in her gut, but she pushed it down, focusing on the analytical part of her mind that had always kept her steady. You’re here now. Keep calm, observe, and adapt. She didn’t understand what was going on and that caused a feeling of unease to settle in the pit of her stomach. She needed to observe and gather as much information as she could. Scientific method don’t let me down. More blue words appeared above the creature’s head.
TechNav-0307: Thalorn Zorruk
Species: Ruxkan
Technomancy Potential (TP): 14
Role: Technomantic Navigator
She was starting to understand that the blue words were giving her information. Information mode activated. Look at her chugging right along. She not only had her question, but she was already doing her research. She will have this problem solved in no time at the rate she was going. That is if she managed to not piss off beings that towered over her and had sharper teeth than anything she has ever encountered.
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Luxor’s voice sliced through the thick tension hanging over the stage, smooth and cutting as if deliberately designed to provoke unease. “Well now, congratulations to all of you,” he began, his tone oozing with false sincerity. “You’ve been chosen as team leaders for this cycle’s Nexus Trials—a very prestigious position indeed.” His words carried a weight that settled heavily on the contestants.
As his gaze swept across the gathered participants, lingering just long enough to make each feel scrutinized, Zaria’s chest tightened. The intensity in his eyes was more than just curiosity; it was a challenge, daring them to rise—or fail. She ducked her head slightly, avoiding his piercing stare, her pulse drumming loudly in her ears. Leadership. The word clanged in her mind like a hollow bell. She wasn’t a leader.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the podium as she swallowed hard, memories flooding unbidden into her mind. The thought of leading a team brought her back to her ill-fated stint as a space cadet, the kind of memory that her family still dusted off for laughs at every holiday dinner. She’d convinced her troop to explore what she thought was a shortcut through a crater ridge, only for them to end up stranded in the middle of an impassable wasteland.
She could still hear the frantic crackle of comms as they called for a rescue team, the echo of her troop’s shivering breaths as they huddled together in the frigid night. That had also been the day she learned she had spatial dyslexia—an ironic twist of fate for someone destined to map the stars.
But it wasn’t all disaster. Her troop had walked away from that ordeal with an impressive haul of survival badges: mastering fire-starting techniques in subzero temperatures, foraging for edible plants, and even building rudimentary water reclamation devices. They had been the only troop that season to receive the Ingenuity Award. Zaria had clung to that fact as proof she wasn’t entirely hopeless, even as her siblings teased her relentlessly.
Yeah, Master Sergeant Reynolds, she thought with a flicker of defiance. I might get lost, but I sure as hell know how to survive.
Still, the thought of leading a team now felt just as daunting as it had back then—only this time, the stakes weren’t badges or family ridicule. Her gaze flickered toward the other contestants: towering figures with sharp claws, intricate armor, and faces carved by experiences far more harrowing than hers. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about responsibility, strategy, and something she’d always struggled with—trusting others to trust in her.
Her pulse quickened, the weight of Luxor’s words settling over her like a leaden cloak. She forced herself to take a deep breath. If I could survive that crater… I can survive this. She hoped.
Luxor’s gaze swept over the stage, his sharp eyes locking onto Zaria as if sensing her unease. The faintest twitch of his lips gave way to a smirk, the kind that felt more like a predator toying with prey than any semblance of reassurance. His iridescent scales shimmered faintly under the harsh lights as he leaned slightly forward, his focus unmistakably on her.
“If your team survives the Trials,” he said, his voice dripping with saccharine confidence, “it will be thanks to your brilliant leadership.” His words were smooth, but the deliberate pause that followed made the air around her feel suffocating, the weight of unspoken doubt hanging heavily between them.
Zaria froze, her breath catching in her throat as his smirk widened, the amusement in his eyes sharp enough to cut. He was enjoying this, drawing out the tension, watching her squirm under the implications of his statement.
“And if they fail,” Luxor continued, his tone softening to something almost intimate, yet cruelly deliberate. He let the silence stretch for a heartbeat before his voice dropped, each word hitting like a blow. “If they all die—that’s on you, too. Every. Last. One.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The other contestants shifted uncomfortably, the enormity of Luxor’s statement hanging over them like a storm cloud. Zaria’s stomach twisted as she felt the weight of his words sink into her, a crushing reminder of what lay ahead. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her jaw tightening despite the chill crawling up her spine.