Luther felt as if his head was bursting at the seams, like being crushed under the weight of two worlds. He couldn't remember what led to his suffering. His last memory was of the grim war against six-armed aliens invading his home star system. He hadn't even known that the frontlines had collapsed.

Before the forced draft, he was complaining the lack of action in his village. He had been yearning for a chance to go the cities, to enjoy the good life, and escape from the humdrum of rural life. As he thought back to those days, he wanted to hit his naïve self. Those peaceful days were all he wanted now.

While he did get his chance at the city, it was only to be interrupted as the defense systems blared in alarm of incoming invasion. Word had spread of the human war, and he assumed the invasion was by another faction. Should that be the case, there was not much to worry. The system's army was more than efficient to hold them back without much trouble.

He couldn't guess that the army he was so proud of got decimated in a fortnight. All their technological advancements, all their abilities, were like toys in the eyes of their alien invaders. The armaments that cleaved entire planets could barely scratch the warship forged from neutron stars.

The drastic damage forced the government to declare martial law and to call for voluntary drafts. Their lack of urgency stemmed from their trust in the evolvers.

In a space battle, very few evolvers actually had the ability to change the course of war. Thus, most of them spend their days in leisure on their home planets, fighting local battles, and imposing their influence on regular people. But in times like these, they would have to step up to protect their homes.

Perhaps it was that negligent attitude that made Luther restless. Previously, they also had faith in their army, but the results were simply tragic. He feared the planetary would end up the same.

Really, it was heartrending for negative sentiments to come out true.

The war had lasted for two years and their defenses fell one after another. Voluntary drafts gradually turned into forced drafts. Age restrictions began to be lifted; children fighting on the streets, children haunting guerilla units in the forests, children scaling mountains in ambush. The reasoning the higher-ups gave was that inhumane methods for inhuman enemies. It was utter hogwash.

To be inhuman to face inhuman, to throw away your identity for the sole purpose of fighting fire with fire, what was the point? Everyone was fighting for human supremacy, but in the face of crisis, there was no hesitation to throw away that humanity they were priding on.

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Luther was twenty-one at the time. He didn't volunteer when it was called for, only being forced into the army when circumstances changed for the worse. He had a subtle evolution hence his treatment was not much better than ordinary soldiers albeit still befitting his status as evolver.

He had heightened fight-or-flight instincts. As a group, it doesn't contribute much; but as an individual skill, it was highly envied as it greatly increased survival. As such, he was designated as a scout. He hadn't realized then, regardless of how prematurely you identify danger, without the appropriate skills to react, such an ability is useless.

When the war finally reached his city, he was dispatched to scout the movements of the enemy. Even as he stepped out of the barracks, he already sensed the danger looming indiscriminately. Alas, before he can do anything about it, the horns blared.

It was preposterous that the superior aliens would blitz through them. Even as the gates were torn off its hinges, as their thunder-like bellows echoed through the pale-faced crowd, they refused to admit the reality before them.

He had tried to escape, but compared to the aliens, he was no faster than a snail. He did not even have the time to ask for mercy, as it ripped him in two halves.

That's right. I got ripped in halves. Then how am I still alive? How am I feeling all this pain like battalion of them are clamping on my head?

He was starting to reason, desperate to grab hold of reality. As he did so, he realized the pain diminishing. He tried more and more until the pain has receded.

At last he could breathe in relief. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

A white room welcomed him. All around him was disconcertingly white. Except the wall directly before him. It was glass, like one you'd encounter in museums or zoos, like he was an exhibit.

And beyond the glass, was a spherical hangar filled with tessellated cells, each with someone else in them. Every cell was facing a platform in the center--no, rather, the being sitting on a throne on the platform.

Unlike the rest of the hangar, it was as black as the endless void of space. It wasn't the same black humans see; that was light not being reflected back. No, this being was emitting a darkness that is rejecting the light, a separate entity, like oil is to water.

It resembled a human, yet simultaneously, everything else. It seemed to be beyond the grasp of Luther's rationality. Yet, even then, its figure remains embedded unto Luther's consciousness: two horns, six pairs of wings, two fair hands, a serpent's tail continuing down its waist in place of legs, five eyes (two pairs, and another at the middle of its forehead), sharp pointed ears, and no nose nor mouth.

It was asleep, its tail wrapped around the throne. But somehow, Luther could tell it was well aware of the inside of each and every cell in the hangar. It was observing them, waiting.

For what? For every cell to be occupied. Even now, Luther could see some sparse cells, vacant one moment and the next, someone materializes out of the nowhere, seamlessly blending into his memories as if he had always been there.

When he first woke up, there were still a few left unaccounted for, but soon, Luther could easily count the cells left over.

32… 21… 15… 8… 4, 3… 1… 0.

When the last cell was filled, the being opened its eyes.