The place smelled of thick iron. A putrid, sulphurous smog hung thick and charred in the air. Some chunks were molten, some burnt—scattered pieces of flesh, remnants of aggressive chopping and runic pyromancy. The stench was foul enough to trigger instinctive gags, certain to attract demon-crows for their feast.
The once-serene Niht Vale had become a battlefield. The soil resembled holy sindoor, and the pebbles, like beryl, were stained with blood.
Amid the corpses of the asurik army, a lone figure stood.
Three shafts protruded from his back, their fletchings revealing them as arrows. A dagger was buried in his left eye; lines of blood trickled down from the wound, while tears streamed from the other.
He pulled the dagger free with a heavy gasp. Blood spurted from the hollow socket, slowing to a trickle before stopping completely. The fingers on his left hand dangled, attached only by fraying tendons, while his neck was fractured, splintered like jagged basalt columns.
Despite his condition and the unbearable pain, he tried to stand.
Beneath the shadow of the clouds, the world seemed to be engulfed in darkness.
How long has it been?
He fumbled for his pocket watch, his hands shaking as he drew it from his dimensional storage ring. The second hand ticked counterclockwise, slow and methodical.
Time displayed: ten minutes past twelve.
“Just a few more minutes…” His voice was barely a whisper.
Unable to bear his own weight any longer, he collapsed to his knees and closed his eyes. Yet, even as his body failed him, a smile ghosted his lips.
Just a few more minutes—that was all he needed. Just a few more minutes until the clock struck twelve.
At that very moment, the heavens split.
The sky’s bleak darkness was shattered by a radiant beam of light, illuminating every inch of the dead horizon.
Startled, the man looked up, squinting against the blinding glow, before he saw them: countless angels with shining swords, a scene reminiscent of the Book of Revelation.
The heavenly host descended, wielding their aether-charged swords while the neighing of countless pegasi filled the air. There was only one thought on their minds: execute!
The man smiled bitterly at the scene before him. He reached for a shard of a shattered blade on the ground—its edge was dull and splintered. With the last of his strength, he gripped the weapon firmly.
He took a stance—one his master had taught him all those years ago—and launched towards the heavenly army. While still in mid-air, his body began to break apart, cube by cube, disintegrating like tiny blocks, until they dissolved into thin air.
Meanwhile, within the enemy's ranks, something began to form. A hand was followed by a face, and soon, the man was completely reconstructed. He spun, unleashing a tornado of blades, hacking and slashing in a wild dance.
At that moment, death was brought upon the centuria of angels—beings believed to be immortal.
With a final flourish, a dazzling arc of plasma shot from his blade, razing everything within a half-mile.
.
.
.
It was over. The war had finally ended. But the damage was done.
Sprawled on the ground, the man gasped for air, his vision blurring as darkness encroached.
In his final moments, he faced his fate. He had defied death throughout his life and done everything he could, yet he failed to find The Door.
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This—this was all that remained.
But… perhaps this much was all he needed?
With agonising slowness, his trembling left hand reached for his face, fingers sticky with congealed blood. With the last of his strength, he shoved his hand into his mouth, forcing it far down his throat, gagging and gasping as he struggled to reach the object.
As he strained, his neck swelled, veins bulging as he wrestled something free, blood and saliva spilling over him like a grim baptism.
Finally, he wrenched it out. It was an orb of flesh that pulsated like a heart, dotted with eyes that blinked in a chaotic pattern, and a jagged circle of teeth traced its surface.
The orb’s chaotic blinking mirrored his own fragmented thoughts. But even now, his mind was under siege—haunted by those eyes. Those teal eyes… always watching. No. Not now. He needed to focus.
With a rough breath, he made up his mind and opened his mouth.
"You know what to do..." he exhaled, his voice barely a whisper, his breath a death rattle. "Set in motion the events to fix... everykh—" His good eye widened, the pupil dilating until it eclipsed his vision. A ragged breath escaped from his lips, and his body gave one final shudder before falling still.
The world fell silent.
[Initiating Rev...]
* * *
“Hunkh!” I muffled an exhale, my eyes burning from the sudden brightness.
I was in my room.
Awareness returned slowly.
‘Take the train,’ a faint command echoed in my mind. Before I could make sense of it, an annoying beep rang in my ear, cutting through my thoughts and silencing everything around me.
What happened? Was...
I was breathing heavily, each inhale shaky. The beeping faded gradually, leaving only the pounding of my heart. The back of my shirt clung to my skin, damp with sweat, and my heart raced against my chest. I was sitting on my bed, the blanket bunched around my legs.
“Noah?” A soft, familiar voice pulled me from my daze. I looked to my side and saw her sitting by my bed.
“What's wrong?” Mom asked, her hand pressed gently against my forehead. Her auburn hair framed her face in curtain bangs, the morning light catching the worry lines etched into her features. Despite all the rough years and tension she had endured, her hair remained soft and glossy, and she still looked as young as she did all those years ago when I was still a child. “Is it an episode?” she asked.
“No, no,” I reassured her, shaking my head slightly. “Nothing like that.”
Her shoulders relaxed, just a little, but her gaze remained fixed on me, searching.
“I-It... just,” I pressed my hand to my face. “Just… another nightmare,” I said quietly, wiping sweat from my face.
“Ha! You had me worried there. But these nightmares of yours… think they’re becoming a problem?”
“No, it’s fine,” I shrugged. I’d had vivid dreams since I was a kid—it wasn’t new. “But who actually likes nightmares?”
She gave me a look, half exasperated, half thoughtful. Then, reaching over to the nightstand, she pulled out a silver orb. “Your grandfather just called. Time to get ready. And don’t forget Burpi.” She tossed the orb to me, and I caught it mid-air as it morphed into a thick arm cuff that wrapped snugly around my wrist.
The device activated, displaying the time:
──────────────
Year→ 2393
Time→ 9:15 AM
Date→ Nov. 3
──────────────
November third, something important was happening today.
“Is it today?” I asked.
“Yes, pops just called," Mom confirmed. She then added,“Oh, and Sylvie’s coming back soon. Do you know how long you’ll be?”
"No? I thought gramps would tell you that. When exactly is sis coming back?”
“The Moonlit Festival,” she said softly. “Make sure you’re home by then.”
“Ah, I see. Of course. I’ll be here,” I said, standing up from the bed with a casual nod.
“Not like this.” Her tone shifted, suddenly more serious.
I paused, meeting her gaze. “Right... I’ll be back before the festival. Home, promise.”
Her smile returned, faint but satisfied. “Good. Now go and get ready. I’ve prepared the hover-car while you were sleeping—”
“No, I'll take the train,” I cut her off before she could finish her sentence.
“What? But you've never liked taking the train—”
“I'm taking the train,” I said firmly, but internally I felt confused. Why am I dead set on taking the train?
* * *
A beep sounded, followed by the intercom:
“Now stopping at Nukleon Bay,” echoed a disembodied voice. “I repeat, now stopping at Nukleon Bay. Thank you.” The speaker crackled one last time, then fell silent.
I couldn’t help but sigh in irritation.
I dislike trains.
Well... perhaps it would be more accurate to say, 'I prefer solitude when dealing with the symptoms'.
Shaking my head, I looked through the window.
An endless artificial landscape of solar panels and plastic sheeting stretched across the horizon, everything dead and abandoned to the dust and wind. As the last passengers boarded, the train roared to life, levitating smoothly off the ground before accelerating forward.
Bzzt! Bzzt!
Startled, I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing cold metal. Retrieving my phone, I glanced at the screen. A new message. Mum? I thought, surprised. Why did she text?
Tap!
The message flashed open.
[Acacia¹: Text me when you reach pops. And best of luck, Noah. I hope everything goes well this time. Get excited for your new life!]
My new life, huh? Before I even realised it, a silly smile bloomed on my face.
“Today, sector D-27 experienced Gravity Zero. Three casualties detected—” Snap! With a flick of my fingers, my compartment's control module silenced the news hologram. I rested my head against the window.
We were passing over a Nutrient Synthesis Farm, where fields of green and gold stretched endlessly beneath us. They resembled clusters of golden honeycombs—rows of bioreactors lined with algae-infused glass tubes, their walls tinted a warm amber. Within, genetically modified algae and crops flourished, cultivated to maximise calorie production.
The orange sky cast a warm glow over the vista.
“Gravity Zero, huh?” I muttered, the words slipping out as my mind lingered on today’s news, sparking memories from a distant past.
The last time I’d heard of Gravity Zero was during my father’s disappearance. He’d been investigating the “Heart particle” under orders from the Dominion… until, suddenly, he was gone.
That was seven years ago.
Unease crept through me—not so much from the memory itself, but because I recognized it as a symptom of my blood condition. I clenched and unclenched my fists, inhaling slowly, breathing deep into my stomach.
'Three-three-three. Three-three-three.' The rhythm repeated in my head.
Looking around, I tried to name three things I could see:
A large circular window dominating the wall to my right, the orange neon strips embedded in the walls and floor, and… the person who had just entered this otherwise empty compartment—a girl in a red turtleneck. She cast a quick glance in my direction before settling into her seat and opening a book. The glowing blue ring around her irises marked her as a bioid.
Anxiety tightened in my chest, the steady beat of three-three-three slipping from my mind. I swiped my hand over Burpi and muttered, “Heal me.”
The silver bracelet on my left arm flared to life, sending a ripple of light through my body. I closed my eyes, a soothing calm settling over me. Though I felt her curious gaze, I avoided looking at the bioid girl, my attention instead drawn to Burpi, my steadfast device. Burpi, or B.U.R.P.I. as I’d nicknamed it, it stood for “Bioassay, Utility, Recovery, Protocol, Intelligence.”
Grandpa had made it just for me, to help me fight the blood condition. But it was no cure; it only kept me alive a little longer, buying time against a failing body. And if the cure couldn’t be found… well, I knew what that meant.
As I sank into the plush seat, I felt the gentle embrace of sleep pulling me under.