This council decrees the eradication of all humans from the universe. The danger they pose to reality far outweighs any possible benefit. Henceforth, anyone who harbors a human will face a swift death.

It matters not what they may have done in the past nor the heights they reached. Humankind possesses a limitless capacity for malice, freely exploited by the spawn lurking in the echoes of lost dimensions and the sins that had been birthed by time. They. Must. Be. Exterminated.

* Congress Of Praetors, Third Amendment, Year 3068.

Pale lights flickered above two motionless sentients, surrounded by blaring alarms and malfunctioning systems. Nearby, electricity crackled from frayed wires as the starship trembled. The noise was loud enough to wake the dead, yet it only stirred Rejo from his sleep.

By blinking rapidly, the Araki activated his double-layer lenses to overcome his weariness. He coughed, expelling something from his chest, but turned to his captain first. His concern was evident, a rare gesture for Rejo for anyone who was not his captain.

He did not share his emotions regularly beyond the plain ones. While stretching out his arm toward Dante, he checked his pulse. Doing so, he witnessed the human gasping for air, his lungs caving in desperate need. Rejo leaped back, startled by the sudden movement. Worse yet, are Dante’s eyes. The Araki’s thoughts fell to the man’s condition without thought of his own.

Not good. Not good at all. Captain can’t die! What can I do!?

Rejo wasn’t an expert on humans—no one alive was that he knew of. People often replaced body parts without much training, yet it usually worked out. However, he knew their eyes shouldn’t have black in the white sclera.

A low growl rumbled from the human’s throat, reverberating through the cacophony of alarms. Cracks spider-webbed across the window of the Skull, but Dante’s aura somehow momentarily held the Starsinger together against the Lightsea. It lasted only a second before he regained consciousness, the darkness in his eyes fading.

Dante pounded his chest repeatedly as his mind spun in panic, struggling to save himself. Something wormed its way into his soul, digging through his memories, failures, and pain.

The day his father left replayed as he watched dozens of friends die all at once. The flashes focused on his failures, each one leading to death, culminating in his younger brother’s. It was a life that ended too quickly, a shared dream of adventure that was robbed from both. Then came his addiction. It was the one evil he had never fully overcome.

He couldn’t escape. Every time he thought he was past them, something would drag him back, spiraling him toward an early grave. They were always an easy way out, a short path to victory, or sometimes the only road.

Thousands of gunshots echoed through the haze of his chems of choice. The brutal stimulant that heightened physical strength, Shifter, mixed with Spacein, vibrating the muscles to further enhance speed. Both were fused into his combat amps with Nervefire, which set his senses ablaze, making everything sharper—and worse. Unfortunately, this was his only dose of the combat drug, a contingency plan he’d hoped never to use. The months of running himself ragged from mission to mission without a resupply had dug into his reserves.

It had been a long time since this brand had eaten into his psyche. Worse still, the greatest evil arrived, and his entire being trembled.

Nullify.

All of Dante’s emotions, except for hurt, pain, and loss, vanished into the great sea of light. Tears streamed down his face as a voice entered his ears, as loving as his former fiancée, yet as cruel as a torturer, “How delightful. I simply needed a taste for myself. I’ll leave the rest for you three. Goodbye.”

Abruptly, the horror and misery halted as Dante’s face slammed into the cold steel of the Starsinger’s Skull. There, he gazed out the window at the worst sight of his strife-filled career in the stars. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him, stopped by a nightmare more terrifying than anything he had ever imagined, even in his most agonized withdrawals.

A spider... no... an unimaginably massive creature with sixteen legs and a pitch-black body coiled around the star near Gadron, the planet he had jumped to, cutting off much of its light. Tendril-like limbs sank into the celestial entity, devouring a being birthed by the universe itself. The star, much like his own people’s sun, shivered and dimmed within seconds.

Terror steadied Dante’s hands on the floor, adrenaline overriding his trauma. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed—an instinctual reaction to the otherworldly entity. Beside him, the Araki trembled, equally unsure of what was happening.

“Dante. What. Is. That?” Rejo hissed through clenched teeth, his fists cowering.

Before Dante could react, the starship quivered, and he understood why. It wasn’t the malfunctioning systems or the risky Lightsea excursion. It was retaliation.

Sparkling lights veered toward the monstrous creature, devouring the star’s light. Dante didn’t dare to ponder its name. Squinting, he could almost believe some of those lights were humanoid figures, not just lasers like the others.

Seafarers.

“They’re all going to die. Check the shields. I’ll fix the Brightmap,” Dante ordered his last remaining crewmate into action. Upon stepping toward the flickering screens, he noticed the bodies in the room. They were bodies that hadn’t been there before.

What? How... How did they die? If they died... then... Why is Rejo alive? Three? What did it mean by that?

Cruel chills gripped Dante’s heart, and he could no longer handle it anymore. Between the blood loss, the betrayals, and the God within his mind, using it like a playground, he reached under the captain’s station.

After drawing out a small vial with dark purple liquid, its label scrubbed out to disguise its contraband nature, Dante swirled it before proceeding to grab the syringe stored with it. Just as he raised the needle to his neck, however, the possible Godspawn drawled out a question to the human, “What are you ‘oing? I thought you ‘romised to never do those again. Didn’t you ‘ash them away?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“I always have backups. For everything,” Dante said plainly as he turned to face Rejo as the liquid coursed through his veins. Instantly, the voices stopped. The endless chattering in his brain went silent. The constant flood of thoughts and worries froze.

Only under Nullify is he his authentic self. Focused. Perfect. Of one whole mind.

It was in this supreme concentration that he stared down Rejo. Others took drugs to sharpen their minds and enhance speed. Dante had to slow down, forcing unnecessary thoughts to pause so he could work at peak efficiency.

Fear evaporated, and so did his grief. For one hour... he was... free. A free Dante was a force of nature, unabated under any storm.

“You’re are not Rejo.”

The Araki twisted his head, nearly invisible dark dots rolling across his skin, confused by Dante’s words. Whatever Dante had seen didn’t immediately reveal itself, even as he pointed at the blood-red sentient. Dante pressed on, his voice sharp as he spoke, “Rejo had a scar under his chin. Another on his left hand. You have neither. What are you?”

With his back to the monitors, Dante leveled his revolver at his crewmember. The Araki’s face twisted with betrayal and hurt, still pretending to be Rejo. Just as Dante cocked the hammer, a noise from above caught his attention. There was a vibration in the vent.

Dante, while squinting his bloodshot eyes, heard a commotion inside the air duct before a body dropped through the hatch, slamming into the floor. This creature was small, humanoid, but more dwarf-like than the average sentient being.

The figure waved its hands frantically, panicking as it said, “Wait! Wait! That’s still Rejo! And you’re still Dante Penance! Relax, relax!”

Dante barely glanced at her while she pleaded for the two not to fight, his focus still on Rejo.

“Why should I believe you? Who are you? One of Damen’s? Son of a bitch. You were in the vents the whole time,” Dante drew another pistol from behind a monitor, this one aimed at the four-foot-tall woman. With both weapons drawn—one at a former friend, the other at a stranger—Dante’s mind scrambled for a way to survive.

“I am Sonna Hearal, but that doesn’t matter. You both have Qualae inside you. Godspawn. Stareaters. Dirge. Whatever you call them. You now possess divine powers bestowed by a Great Old One. You must spread the gospel of the Federation! There’s so much you two can do now,” Sonna boasted about futures she couldn’t possibly guarantee, her bold tone betraying a hint of doubt.

Even as Sonna explained, Dante’s mind was racing. He calculated the fastest path to the Medrack, the shots he’d need, whether he’d have to get new augments, and his chance of survival when it was all over.

Dante half wanted to pull the trigger, to be done with her. She had to be part of the crew that brought this to the star system. She knew too much, far too much.

And...

We’re stuck in shit together. I can work with her for now. Plus, what if she’s a Seafarer?

Dante glanced at Rejo, motioning for him to continue prepping the Starsinger for the jump into the Lightsea, “Sonna, why were you in the vent? And… how were you in my vent?”

Another jump was risky in the ship’s current state, but as the window—designed to withstand Petrifier-class cannons—cracked further, Dante set down both weapons. Their priority was leaving, not fighting. He could deal with the rest later.

“To hide, obviously. I knew the Qualae would hatch since we left it partially open on purpose. A thick enough casing made from powerful Dirge corpses can hide someone from the Lightsea. Regrettably, you killed the man who knew the whereabouts of the other. Not that I’m upset about his death. Didn’t like him much. He was… awful,” Sonna said as she strolled over, but she stopped well before reaching the trigger-happy human, wagging a finger mockingly at Damen’s corpse.

This woman. I will despise her by the end of this.

Already irritated by his new companion, Dante finished prepping the Brightmap with a series of calculations and risk assessments that would guide the ship through the dangerous Lightsea. From the other side of the room, Rejo shouted, his voice amplified by the power surges lighting the room without shields, “All good over here! We’re ready to jump!”

Dante nodded and glanced back out the window. The star’s light, which had shone just moments ago, had vanished noiselessly. Through the fractured glass, Dante stared in awe at the spinning orb of darkness in the vast void of space.

Beams of energy fired at the divine being from thousands, maybe millions, of starships, but they had no effect. Space itself trembled as even the most powerful Seafarers unleashed their terrible powers, to no avail.

Oceans of water, mountains of ice, and atmospheres of steam rushed forward to no avail.

Maybe if the monsters hidden in the depths of the galaxy, near the Great Cavity, were here, it would have been different. Dante couldn’t be certain, though. All he knew was that he had to run, his thumb already slamming into the ignition as the ring of darkness closed in, snuffing out any light it touched.

Colors warped, and Dante’s whole body vibrated with sickness. This jump in Lightsea felt unlike the previous ones. Something inside him reached out, swabbing his soul. It slithered into his brain, digging up his deepest emotions and traumas.

But it wasn’t the Old One from before. This was... the child. Was it the one from the coffin? Dante wasn’t so sure. It seemed...

Wrong. He didn’t know how or why, but it didn’t feel right.

As if to prove his point, it devoured pieces of him he wished had never existed inside his soul. But it couldn’t take them completely—they were buried too deep. Instead, a shrieking howl erupted from deep within his core as it almost seemed that the thing found a competitor.

It was a howl of pain, suffering, and untold ages of agony to come. It sounded wrong. Unnatural. Whatever was inside him fed on that negativity, thriving on it. Despite its noise, however, it suddenly went silent as the colors returned to normal.

Somehow, Dante experienced a sense of renewal. Not entirely new, but far better than the near-death, chem-addled wreck he’d been before. Beyond the state he found himself it, the sensations crawled over him with a profound wrongness. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, yet it made him feel sick through the relief.

He glanced down at his hands and found them shaking, just like earlier that day. A weary sigh left his lungs as it was all back.

A voice intruded into his thoughts without his permission, saying, “I see. So that’s your Stigmata. Some form of regeneration, perhaps? Rejo’s must be similar with those dots. However, it is not identical. Tell me, what do you feel?”

Dante twisted to face Sonna as the Starsinger sped toward a city planet, still half an hour away. The clarity from Nullify had vanished, and panic crept back in. In a display of frustration, he mustered the shortest response he could to Sonna’s question, a simple, “Yes, I feel better.”

A part of Dante knew better. This… Curse wasn’t healing. It was something far more complicated. As he glanced at his hand, he noticed that the cut from this morning’s breakfast was absent, while yesterday’s sparring scab lingered.

Between twelve and thirty-six hours. I reset myself that far through time. I hate it. It feels… wrong. Is that normal?

Dante’s mind drifted to the pull of the chems. They no longer gripped his body, but they clung to his thoughts. With this power, he could abuse them freely.

As much as he wanted.

“Mine ain’t ‘ealing, Dante. I’m not sure what ‘appened, but I blanked out. What ‘appened after we jumped? And who is this ‘irl? She ‘eems suspicious,” Rejo said and, unaware of the past several minutes, turned to Dante for answers. The wounds Dante had pointed out before? They were back, scars and all.

The observation chilled the human to his bones, keeping his mind struggling.

What. The. Lights.

Dante reached for his hidden stash of Nullify but stopped short. With a shake of his head, he compelled reality to conform, causing something to distort after a brief contest. He realized the sparring scar was gone, but now his mind throbbed with pain.

He stumbled to the side and heard Sonna’s rambling cut through the haze, “Whoa! I know new Seafarers sometimes activate their Stigmata by accident in the Lightsea, but you just... triggered it again? That can’t be right. No one’s that skilled to start. Look me in the eye.”

Sonna’s beady eyes locked onto Dante’s as he braced himself, feeling like he might expel whatever he’d eaten in the last twenty-four to seventy-two hours. Her face twisted in confusion before she whipped out a small beeping device.

The device beeped softly beside Rejo, but when she aimed it at Dante, it screeched like a newborn. The war-forged Araki misstepped in sadness while Sonna’s smug smile grew even broader.

“Oh my. I had you marked as a Tianshe. What in the Lights are you? Let’s see... pale skin, six-foot-three, two hundred and twenty pounds, oddly resilient... By the Lights. I helped orchestrate a human getting a Qualae into their veins,” Sonna collapsed to the floor, her bug eyes wide with shock, alabaster skin almost glowing while her hands stuck to her face. The once-confident woman’s facade shattered.

All the bravado she had shown previously was gone in the wind.

A hand slapped Dante’s shoulder, and Rejo, ever the compassionate killer-for-hire, stated, “Yup. He’s a ‘uman. First one I’ve ‘ver seen. But what’s so bad ‘bout that?”

Sonna scrambled backward in horror, her spine hitting the wall with a thud. Dante’s mind slowly churned to life, piecing together the rumors and legends. The man steadied his exhaustion by blinking thrice until his vision cleared.

That’s why I couldn’t reach the galaxy’s center. My damn species. The hunts are fairly mild out here, but deeper… people aren’t so lax.

“He... he... I’ll be executed for this. No trial, no nothing. A Judge will be sent! We need to run! Now!”

Dante strode forward and crouched beside the lithe, terrified woman. She looked up at him, her once-confident face now twisted with fear as a toothy grin spread across his own.

“We’re not allowed to have these things, huh? How is that any worse than destroying a sun? Planets and a sun. That thing... will kill billions by tomorrow. Not that we can stop it. Or do anything about it, actually,” Dante stated the facts of their situation calmly before Sonna finally managed to speak. He couldn’t understand how any of it made sense.

“My organization answers to a higher power, but even that power has outlawed humans with Stigmata. That thing... I don’t know what it was, but... surely we can control it... As for you... The abilities from higher dimensions are born from emotions, particularly negative ones. And... you humans...” Sonna trailed off while Dante finished her words. The numbers added up in his brain as he saw the answers to the equation. The problem was him. It always had been.

“We declared war on the universe. Nearly won, too. We’re as awful as they come.”