image [https://i.imgur.com/WQOtM00.jpeg]

Prequel Chapter 1: Awakening in the Battlefield

Hi, I’m James Fox. Gamer, space nerd, and five-energy-drinks-in-one-night survivor. And tonight? I was either going to win this space battle—or die trying—probably the latter, judging by the erratic pounding in my chest.

My fleet was on the verge of collapse. Shields were down, energy reserves were toast, and I could practically feel the enemy captain sneering from across the virtual battlefield. But I wasn’t going to let them have the satisfaction of victory. Nope. If I was going down, I was going down swinging.

So, naturally, I ordered my entire fleet to ram their capital ships into the enemy space station. Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.

And then… everything went blank.

Like, completely blank. Not the kind of "black screen of death" you get when your game crashes—more like the lights in my brain were shut off. Empty. Null. I didn’t even get to see the fireworks. Bummer.

When I came to, I wasn’t greeted by my familiar gaming chair or my desk cluttered with snack wrappers. Nope. Instead, something—or someone—was shaking me.

“—Silverfoxx, are you alright? Captain Silverfoxx!”

I blinked, my vision still fuzzy, and stared up at the source of the voice. Standing over me was a two-meter-tall space soldier, fully clad in sleek black metal power armor. Like, straight out of the sci-fi games I used to play. This guy looked like he could punch through a starship’s hull without breaking a sweat.

“Uh, what?” My voice came out in a pitch that was definitely not mine. I sounded… weird.

“Captain! Emergency landing was successful! We’re attacking the space station as we speak!” The soldier’s voice was sharp, urgent, like I was supposed to know what the heck he was talking about.

“Wait, hold on—‘landing’? Isn’t the ship supposed to explode when it rams something?” I muttered, blinking around. Because, you know, that's how space sim games work, right? When a ship with lower HP crashes, it’s game over.

But nope. No game over screen here. Just ultra-realistic chaos. Sparks flew from busted conduits, casting bright flashes across the metallic interior of what I assumed was my ship. The air reeked of burning metal, and there was the unmistakable stench of… well, charred flesh. Yeah, that was definitely too realistic for a dream.

I tried to sit up, but something was… off. Really off. I glanced down, and—yep—instead of the baggy hoodie and sweatpants I’d been wearing just before passing out, I saw… a modest chest, long silver hair spilled over my shoulders, and, yep, there were the telltale curves of my character. I was her. Or rather, I was me—just in my ridiculous avatar form.

In disbelief, I poked my chest. Soft.

Oh, this was weird. My hand reached downward.

“Captain!” The soldier’s voice snapped me out of my daze. “The ship’s integrity is failing. We need to move now!”

But as much as I wanted to question literally everything, there was no time. The ship rocked violently, explosions echoing through the shattered corridors. The front half of the bridge was already gone—completely blown open, exposing the crew and everything else to the void of space.

“Captain! Move, now!” the soldier shouted as he yanked me forward, pulling me dangerously close to the jagged edge where the floor gave way to nothingness.

I blinked at the chaos in front of me, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was staring straight into space—actual space—no glass, no force field, just… vacuum. My heart skipped a beat, but before I could process what was happening, the soldier gave me a shove.

“Jump!”

Jump? Before I could protest, my body reacted on instinct—or maybe it was the avatar's athletic frame kicking in—because I leapt. Next thing I knew, I was running across the exposed hull of the ship, void of gravity, debris floating lazily around me like I was in the middle of some twisted space ballet. Sparks crackled from broken wires, and chunks of what had once been the ship’s infrastructure drifted past us like junk on the breeze.

Except there was no breeze. No air. Nothing but the eerie silence of space. And here’s the kicker: I wasn’t even breathing. No gasping for air, no helmet, no suit—just me, floating in the void like it was nothing.

Okay, okay, don’t panic… I’m not dead, I’m not exploding. My thoughts raced as I realized I was very much alive—alive and somehow not suffocating in the vacuum of space.

That’s when I remembered it—billions of them working beneath my skin. Nanomachines. Right. My avatar’s body was infused with them, a biological marvel designed for space combat. These tiny, high-tech marvels were coursing through my veins, keeping me functioning—keeping me alive, even without air.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself—well, not literally, since I wasn’t actually breathing. But mentally, I needed to keep it together.

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I ran—or more like sprinted awkwardly, my boots magnetized to the twisted, jagged hull—trying to keep pace with the soldier as we navigated through the floating debris. Each step felt strange, the magnets pulling me down onto the hull with a heavy thud while everything else floated freely around me.

A chunk of what looked like the remains of a turret whizzed past my head, and I ducked instinctively. My absurdly long silver hair—why did I make it this long?—floated behind me like a cosmic flag as we dashed toward the far end of the ship, dodging debris that drifted lazily through the vacuum.

Then, I felt it—the cold.

Not just any cold. The kind that gnawed at you, creeping into your bones. Ice began to form on my skin, tiny flakes spreading across my arms and legs like frost on a winter windowpane. I could feel them, the pinpricks of freezing particles solidifying in the vacuum of space. My nanomachines were working overtime, keeping me alive, but they weren’t designed for comfort. The sensation was alien, like my body was caught between two extremes—freezing, but still moving.

The eerie silence of space only amplified the weirdness. No sound of my footsteps, no rushing air, just the dead quiet of the void. I wasn’t breathing, and I wasn’t dying. My body was functioning on some freakish level thanks to the nanomachines in my bloodstream, but it didn’t stop me from feeling every second of the surreal, ice-crusted sprint across the ship’s broken hull.

The enemy space station loomed ahead, its exterior scarred and broken. Just beyond the gaping hole where my ship had punched through, I could make out what was left of the docking port—twisted metal and shattered plating hanging like loose threads. Fires burned in the distance, flickering wildly in the station’s torn-apart sections, the aftermath of our not-so-graceful entry.

“Get ready!” the soldier barked, his voice somehow calm despite the fact that we were essentially sprinting through a death zone. “We’ll breach directly into the station—don’t stop moving!”

Breach? Wait, what?

Before I could question him, we launched off the ship’s edge and landed—hard—on the metal plating of the space station. My feet hit the ground with a metallic thud, and suddenly, gravity seemed to catch up with me. The soldier barely paused before charging forward, and I scrambled to follow, the impact of our crash landing sending shockwaves through the floor.

We barreled through the crumbling entry point, and I found myself smack in the middle of a full-scale battleground inside the space station.

Disruptor fire streaked past us, leaving rippling trails of destabilized energy in its wake, disintegrating chunks of metal where they struck. I threw myself behind a pile of debris, my heart racing—wait, did I even have a heart anymore? I wasn’t sure, but I sure as hell felt like it was about to explode.

The place was chaos—my chaos, apparently. Soldiers—my soldiers, in full combat gear—were locked in brutal firefights with the station’s defenders. The eerie hum of disruptors cut through the air, vaporizing anything they touched. Sparks flew from malfunctioning systems, and the distant whine of overloading power cores mixed with the shouts of orders and the roar of the battle raging on around us.

But there was no time to think. Another explosion rocked the ground beneath us, and I instinctively ducked as a chunk of ceiling came crashing down nearby. The soldier motioned for me to follow, and without thinking, I ran after him, dodging debris and stray laser fire. We darted through the chaos, weaving between firefights, and I tried to process how the hell I had gone from ramming my fleet into an enemy space station to leading an actual invasion.

“Captain Silverfoxx, what are your orders?” a nearby soldier shouted over the din, looking at me with wide, expectant eyes—like I was supposed to actually know what to do.

Orders? Right. I’m the captain. My mind scrambled for something—anything—that sounded vaguely strategic. I mean, how hard could it be? I’d played enough space games to bluff my way through this, right?

“Uh… sabotage the station’s power core?” I suggested, half-expecting someone to call me out for being insane.

The soldier didn’t even blink. “Sabotage the power core! Yes, ma’am!” He shouted the order to the rest of the squad, and they immediately sprang into action.

Wait—what? They’re actually doing it?

“And, uh, grab a docking ship and run?” I added, still not believing this was happening.

The soldier gave a firm nod. “Secure a ship and retreat, understood!” He gestured to the squad, who were already moving toward the station's interior, ready to enact what I thought was a random plan.

Okay, I was officially in over my head.

Then, as we rounded a corner, we ran straight into an ambush—enemy station soldiers flooding the hallway, disruptors raised, their sights locked on us.

I froze. Panic surged through me. This is bad. This is really, really bad.

My mind raced, panic clawing at my throat. We were about to be reduced to swiss cheese, and I had no idea how to stop it. Then... something snapped. Before I even knew what I was doing, my hands flew up—and the next thing I knew, they were flying, too. Into walls.

They didn’t just fly. They were flung—hard—crashing into the walls with sickening cracks, their bodies crumpling like rag dolls, blood splattering across the metal bulkheads.

I stood there, shaking, my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. My hands were still outstretched, trembling. I hadn’t meant to do that. I just… wanted them gone.

The hallway fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the crackle of burning debris. My soldiers barely slowed down, moving through the carnage with practiced efficiency—checking corners, securing the area—like this was just another day in the office.

Meanwhile, I was frozen, my hands still trembling from the raw power that had exploded out of me. They acted like this was normal, like I was normal—but I wasn’t. Not anymore.

They acted like this was normal…

Oh.

Oh no.

I did this. I built this ridiculous avatar. I created Captain Silverfoxx to be the ultimate villainess—overflowing with over-the-top, darkside evil powers. And now, here I was, living the consequences of my own genius design.

Let’s see... what could I do again? Oh right, casually splat people against walls like bugs, remotely strangle someone from across the room, electrocute a few unlucky souls, crush objects like tin cans, create cursed artifacts or monstrous creatures, and—oh yeah—drain the life essence out of someone if I was feeling particularly dramatic. All of that, topped off with psychic abilities that would make any evil overlord weep with envy.

Fantastic.

This was supposed to be fun—cool, even. But now, it wasn’t just about leveling up or unlocking some new ability for bragging rights. This was real. Terrifyingly real.

I wasn’t just the player anymore.

I am the weapon.