The glitching hologram hovered above the sphere, flickering like a dying star.
"Welcome, Grand Calculus."
My pulse dropped into a cold rhythm. Everyone stared at the floating letters, trying to make sense of the name. None of us had heard it before—but something about it felt… inevitable. Like an equation waiting to be solved, one we already knew would end in blood.
Rev stepped forward slowly, brushing ash from his arm. "What kind of name is that?"
Chase was already typing furiously. "I've heard whispers. Nothing confirmed. He's new. One of the Harbingers' newer assets—maybe a replacement for Kaiju. But his file was completely redacted."
Jacob grunted. "Doesn't sound like a monster name."
"He's not a monster," Chase muttered. "He's something else. A tactician. A mathematician of chaos. A planner."
Maddie frowned. "So… what? A villain with a calculator?"
Chase looked up, deadly serious. "No. A precision engine. If he's coming, it's because every variable has already been accounted for—including us."
The lights flickered again.
Screams echoed from the survivor tunnels behind us.
Then: silence.
That silence broke the illusion of safety.
"Stay here," I said, stepping toward the corridor. "Guard the sphere. Don't let it fall into their hands."
"No way," Jacob said, joining me instantly. "You think I'm letting you walk into whatever this is without backup?"
Rev raised a hand. "I'm with you."
Maddie nodded. "Always."
Even Chase sighed and slung his tablet across his shoulder. "Fine. But don't blame me if we get triangulated and vaporized."
We pushed deeper into the tunnels, past makeshift barricades and crates of scavenged tech. The hallway bent downward into older, rust-choked levels of the underground station. Paint peeled from the walls like flayed skin. Water dripped in rhythmic beats, matching my heartbeat far too closely.
Then we saw him.
At the far end of the tunnel, standing with his back turned to us, was a figure dressed in a flowing gray coat embroidered with golden equations.
They moved.
Not like someone walking.
Like gravity had been rewritten just for them.
They turned—and we saw the mask.
A sleek, mirrored surface covered the figure's face, reflecting us in fractured shards. Symbols glowed faintly across it—geometric runes and mathematical constants, shifting like a living chalkboard.
"You are variables," he said. "You are noise in an equation that demands balance."
"Who the hell are you?" Jacob barked.
"I am the Grand Calculus. And you, Kaleb, are an anomaly long overdue for reduction."
He raised a hand.
The hallway changed.
Not visually—fundamentally.
Space itself twisted. Angles warped. Suddenly, the floor wasn't flat—it was a slope, then a spiral, then nothing at all. Rev stumbled, his footing skewed as the walls compressed around us like folding pages.
"I can't track the grid!" he shouted. "It's rewriting itself!"
Grand Calculus moved forward again, and every step was a recalculation of physics. Gravity spun sideways. Equations materialized in midair and bent light around his movements.
"You're manipulating the environment mathematically," Chase muttered, awe and horror blending. "You're rewriting the laws of probability and motion."
The Grand Calculus tilted his head. "Understanding does not equate to prevention."
Maddie summoned a wall of sound, sculpting vibrations into a barrier between us.
He tapped a floating sigil.
The sound shattered.
Maddie reeled back, ears bleeding.
Jacob surged forward, fists lit with kinetic fire. "Let's see if you can calculate this!"
He launched a thunderous punch.
It froze inches from the villain's face.
Midair.
Suspended.
As if time had forgotten the motion existed.
The Grand Calculus leaned in and whispered something only Jacob could hear.
His eyes widened—just for a moment—before he was flung backward down the corridor like a ragdoll. He hit the wall with a crack that made my stomach drop.
"Enough," I growled.
Energy surged through me—pure Nexus light erupting like a volcano.
I blinked forward, faster than the laws of motion would allow.
And still—he caught my punch.
With one hand.
The mask turned toward me. My reflection glared back, split into a dozen fractured pieces.
"You are chaos without calculation," he said. "A probability storm. But even storms have patterns."
I felt it again—Chrono's frequency, tangled with the sphere. But now it was being muted.
Drowned beneath a newer rhythm.
One I didn't recognize.
One I feared.
My vision flickered.
And then I saw her again.
Aaliah.
Suspended in some void. Screaming without sound.
Then—eyes wide—she turned her head again.
But this time she wasn't looking at me.
She was looking at him.
At the Grand Calculus.
He was already in the same place.
Already watching her.
Already calculating her suffering.
I snapped back into my body with a scream, unleashing a radial shockwave of uncontrolled power.
The Grand Calculus stumbled back—only slightly.
But it was enough.
Rev grabbed me, yanking me through a closing distortion field.
Chase overrode a security panel. "Back to the shelter, now!"
We barreled up the corridor as the hallway behind us warped and collapsed. The Grand Calculus wasn't pursued. He didn't need to.
He'd already solved for us.
And that's what scared me most.
Back in the shelter, the sphere was dimming, pulsing at longer intervals.
Booker was awake again—but he looked worse.
Hollowed.
More red light in his veins.
I collapsed beside him. "They're using you."
He nodded faintly. "And Aaliah. I think… she's not just bait. She's part of the system. She is the lock."
Chase paled. "If that's true… then removing her could shatter the balance. The Grand Calculus is building a closed loop. One that feeds off you. Off her. Maybe even the entire Nexus."
"Then we break the loop," I said.
Rev stepped in. "And how exactly do we do that?"
"We don't," I replied.
I turned toward the sphere.
"I do."
The Nexus inside me stirred again.
The Dark Nexus wasn't just watching anymore.
It was learning.
And this time?
It was almost curious.