Zalthorion's boots echoed down the long marble halls of the Nexus Directorate, each step deliberate, controlled yet carrying that quiet, unnerving weight that made everyone he passed stand a little straighter. The air hummed with faint power; the entire facility was alive, pulsing with the data streams, multiversal coordinates, and MTD relay signals that formed the nervous system of Evolto City's operations.
A worker nearly collided with him at the junction corridor young, barely out of training by the looks of it. The man froze mid-step, color draining from his face before he quickly bowed low.
"L-Lord Zalthorion, sir! Welcome to the Directorate!"
Zalthorion only inclined his head slightly a gesture that was somehow both acknowledgment and dismissal. "Continue your work," he said, voice low but carrying effortlessly across the polished hall.
The worker scrambled away as Zalthorion continued forward, the golden light of the data conduits washing over his dark coat. His destination loomed ahead the Main Operating Chamber, a vast circular room lined with layered holo-screens projecting the status of every active Multiversal Transition Device in existence.
As the tall doors slid open, the hum of machinery and the low murmur of technicians filled the air. Dozens of staff in Directorate uniforms turned instantly, some bowing, others giving brief salutes.
"Director Veilstryx, sir!"
"Lord Zalthorion!"
"Welcome, my lord!"
He walked through the room without breaking stride, eyes scanning over the holographic feed countless threads of light representing the outbound and inbound MTD connections across realities. Some lines pulsed calmly. Others flickered. A few red and unstable twisted like frayed nerves.
He stopped before the primary console, his reflection glinting in the glass. The chief operator, a woman with silver hair tied back in a precise braid, approached and bowed.
"All systems stable, my lord. No unauthorized transitions detected within the last six cycles."
"Good." His tone was measured, but there was a subtle gravity beneath it the kind that made even the most seasoned agents stand a little taller. "Prepare the system. An announcement will be transmitted shortly."
The room grew still. Workers exchanged glances, hands hovering above consoles as the hum of machinery seemed to soften into a tense quiet.
"An… announcement, my lord?" the chief asked cautiously.
"Yes." His gaze remained fixed on the holographic projection of the city, suspended like a miniature cosmos before him. "To all agents outside of Evolto City."
He stepped closer, the blue light tracing across the edges of his face calm, unreadable, but with a quiet storm behind his eyes.
"The time for silence is ending."
He turned slightly, his cloak sweeping as he faced the operators.
"Patch me through to the Omniversal Relay," he commanded. "Every active agent, every sleeper network, every remote operative I want this message heard."
The operators immediately sprang into motion, the low hum of power rising as conduits lit up across the chamber.
Energy surged through the Nexus Directorate the heart of Evolto City preparing to speak.
The room dimmed as the Omniversal Relay came online a low, resonant hum building until the air itself seemed to vibrate. The lights overhead flickered once, then bent inward, coalescing into a vast sigil of light behind Zalthorion. It unfolded like a blooming star rings of golden and azure runes orbiting one another, their trails connecting to unseen worlds beyond.
Every worker froze mid-motion. Every console pulsed in unison one synchronized heartbeat across infinite distances.
And then, everywhere across battlefields drowned in alien suns, research stations orbiting fractured realities, temples lost between dimensions agents of Evolto City stopped what they were doing as their communicators flickered.
The unofficial flag and crest of their founder the Sigil of the Veilstryx burned into existence before them.
Zalthorion stood tall before the projection, shadows curling behind him like wings as his voice cut through the relay, calm but absolute the kind of calm that made worlds listen.
ZALTHORION VEILSTRYX (Broadcasting):
"To all agents of Evolto City.
A danger looms over our home vast enough to shake the foundations of reality itself.
You will soon receive confirmation regarding the status of your operations.
Those whose missions are deemed non-essential are to cease all activity immediately and return to Evolto City without delay.
Prepare yourselves for transition. Maintain silence until further orders.
The storm approaches and I will need every one of you ready when it breaks."
The sigil pulsed once a brilliant surge of gold that outshone even the Cerian Sun before collapsing into drifting motes of light.
Silence followed. A deep, reverent stillness.
Then, slowly, the chamber filled with life again.
Communicators flickered. Voices returned.
"Agent N.12 has received the message!"
"Sector team Gamma confirming compliance!"
"Outer Rim operatives recalling now!"
Zalthorion turned away from the main console, expression unreadable but heavy with purpose. He reached into his coat and retrieved a data chip, placing it into the chief operator's trembling hand.
"These contain the compiled lists essential and non-essential operations. Begin the recall sequence immediately. Prioritize long-range MTD activations. I want the first wave home within forty-eight hours."
The chief operator nodded briskly, already issuing commands as the data streams lit up again lines of energy branching like roots through the holographic void.
Zalthorion lingered for a heartbeat, gaze fixed on the glowing map of realities before him. His eyes narrowed slightly not in doubt, but in foresight.
Then he turned, cloak sweeping behind him as he strode out of the room.
The hum of power that followed him sounded almost like thunder distant… but growing closer with every step.
◇◇◇
A large hand held a knife so small it looked almost comical, yet it moved with impossible precision.
Each motion was deliberate, smooth slicing thick cuts of meat as if through silk. The blade flashed once more, dicing the pieces until they were minced perfectly, each bit identical in size.
The smell of spices and roasted herbs filled the kitchen a small cabin tucked away on the outskirts of a tranquil forest world, two suns glowing faintly through the windows.
Then—
"Daddy! Daddy! Your watch is shaking!"
Two small blurs of energy and laughter bounded across the floor a boy and a girl, barely six their hair a soft mix of silver and auburn, eyes bright as they waved a vibrating watch in the air.
The massive figure turned, the knife glinting once before he gently set it down. Wiping his hands on a towel, he crouched low, taking the watch from their tiny fingers with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.
"Thank you, my little stars," he murmured, voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder.
He walked to the small bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. With a quiet exhale, he pressed a hidden switch on the side of the device.
The watch expanded, unfolding into a smooth ring of light that projected the flag of Evolto City the unmistakable crest of the Veilstryx.
The air trembled, and Zalthorion's voice filled the room:
"To all agents of Evolto City.
A danger is looming over our home one vast enough to shake the foundations of our reality itself.
You will soon receive confirmation regarding the status of your current operations.
Those whose missions are deemed non-essential are to cease all activity immediately and return to Evolto City without delay.
Prepare yourselves for transition. Maintain silence until further orders.
The storm approaches and I will need every one of you ready when it breaks."
The projection dimmed, replaced by a cold, synthetic voice.
"Agent No.1
Name: Ardon Kael Voss
Codename: Bulwark
Mission Status: Essential.
Maintain your post until further notice."
For a long moment, Ardon said nothing. The soft hum of the device faded into silence, leaving only the faint sound of his children laughing in the other room.
He sighed a slow, heavy sound and leaned against the wall, his enormous frame casting long shadows across the narrow room.
"…I was hoping to bring my kids and wife to my home this time," he muttered.
His reflection stared back at him weary, scarred, and ancient in ways that went beyond years.
Then, with quiet resolve, he pressed the watch again, shrinking it back down to size, and walked out to rejoin his family the faintest trace of a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.
◇◇◇
On a distant world that gleamed like a mirror to the void, the wind howled through vast canyons of steel. Gears the size of cities turned somewhere below, and the sky above shimmered with the reflection of orbiting shipyards.
Perched on the hull of a half-dismantled cruiser, a lone man sat cross-legged, a wrench in one hand and a cigar glowing faintly between his teeth. Sparks crackled beside him as he welded a broken seam back together.
He squinted through the haze of smoke, muttering under his breath.
"Always the same problem idiots crash ship, I fix ship. Whole galaxy full of idiots."
He gave the hull a solid tap with the wrench. "There. You fly again, da? Just don't explode this time."
Then, something on his belt began to vibrate a small metal flask, dented and scratched from years of use.
He frowned, grabbed it, and twisted the base. With a hiss, the flask unfolded into a circular holo-projector, pulsing faintly with golden light.
The sigil of Evolto City ignited above it.
He exhaled slowly, letting the cigar drop from his lips as Zalthorion's voice echoed through the mechanized winds.
"To all agents of Evolto City.
A danger is looming over our home one vast enough to shake the foundations of our reality itself.
Those whose missions are deemed non-essential are to cease all activity immediately and return to Evolto City without delay.
Prepare yourselves for transition. Maintain silence until further orders. The storm approaches and I will need every one of you ready when it breaks."
The recording faded, replaced by the neutral tone of an automated relay.
"Agent No.3
Name: Mikhail "Misha" Dragunov
Codename: Forgehand
Mission Status: Non-essential. Return home immediately."
Mikhail chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as he stood, stretching his massive shoulders.
"Non-essential, huh?" he muttered with a grin. "Finally. Maybe someone else fix stupid ship for once."
He crushed the spent cigar beneath his boot and looked out over the metallic horizon the endless sprawl of the machine planet known as Cybertron, its towers flickering like stars in the smog.
"I wonder how Wagner's doing," he said, accent thick and amused. "Hopefully not still cooped up in that lab, talking to test tubes and corpses."
He strapped the flask-MTD back to his belt and walked toward a battered drop shuttle waiting nearby.
"Goodbye, Cybertron," he said, smiling faintly. "I'm going home."
The shuttle's engines roared to life, shaking the air with thunder.
◇◇◇
In a modest apartment overlooking the quiet skyline of Brooklyn, the soft laughter of a child mixed with the faint hum of the TV.
Nyxia sat on the couch, cross-legged, his monstrous power nowhere in sight only the calm expression of a man watching the world he'd grown fond of. Eri sat beside him, her little legs kicking as she watched the screen. A memorial broadcast was playing images of Steve Rogers, Captain America, his sacrifice being remembered by the nation he saved.
Nyxia smiled faintly. "He really did it," he murmured, almost proudly.
Then vrrt.
His MTD, disguised as a sleek pocket watch on the coffee table, began to vibrate. Eri blinked and picked it up curiously. "Papa, it's shaking!"
Nyxia frowned slightly. "That's… not supposed to happen."
He took the watch and with a faint hum, the device unfolded by itself, projecting Zalthorion's message into the room the same one that had echoed across many agents MTD.
Then came the cold, mechanical voice:
"Agent No.15
Codename: [UNNAMED]
Mission Status: Non-essential. Return home."
Nyxia exhaled, setting the device down. "Guess that's our call," he said softly.
Eri tilted her head. "Are we going home, Papa?"
He nodded, brushing her hair gently. "Yeah… we're going home."
He rose from the couch, beginning to pack their belongings. The room filled with the quiet rustle of folded clothes, the click of storage cases. On the table, he carefully placed a worn notebook Erskine's research on the Super Soldier Serum, annotated and expanded by Nyxia himself.
He hesitated, then smiled. "Wagner will like this one," he muttered, sliding it into his bag.
Before leaving, he sat at his desk and wrote several letters one addressed to Dr. Erskine, another to Peggy Carter, and a few others to the friends he'd made during his stay. His handwriting was neat, deliberate, almost human in its care.
When he sealed the last envelope, he looked out the window one last time. "Goodbye, old world," he whispered.
Then he turned to Eri and said quietly, "Let's go home."
The meeting place looked like a mess.
Vidarath lay sprawled on the cold marble floor, clutching his ribs and groaning dramatically. Sparks of unstable magic flickered around him as his voice cracked, "I regret nothing!"
A few meters away, Lyssara twirled in a blazing waltz her entire body wreathed in blue fire, laughing manically as the flames licked the walls. "Hahahaha— the roundtable burns beautifully tonight!"
Seated calmly at the edge of the chaos, Dr. Wagner took a long pull straight from a whiskey bottle, his lab coat half undone, his hair wild from either exhaustion or alcohol likely both. His eye twitched slightly as he muttered in his heavy German accent,
"Mein Gott… I turn my back for five minutes und ze room turns into Madhouse Symphony No. 9."
Sevrina, meanwhile, simply sighed and walked out without a word, her silhouette fading into the corridor.
Then — FWOOM.
A rift tore open above the room's center. Reality folded inward like liquid glass, and from it stepped Nyxia, holding Eri's tiny hand. Around the girl's shoulders coiled a small Orowyrm, glowing faintly like a living scarf.
Nyxia blinked slowly, his golden eyes adjusting to the chaos before him.
"…What in all the Void is going on here?"
He instinctively pulled Eri closer, shielding her slightly with his arm. The Orowyrm gave a curious chirp, unfazed by the fire and screaming.
Dr. Wagner looked up mid-swig and beamed. "Ah, Nyxia! You made it, mein Freund!" he said in a voice that was far too cheerful for the situation. "Velcome back to ze city of Unnecessary Drama!"
Nyxia's gaze moved from Wagner, to the burning Lyssara, to the groaning Vidarath, and finally back to Wagner. "…What is this place?"
"Oh! Zis—" Wagner gestured broadly with his whiskey bottle, nearly spilling it on his coat, "—is ze Roundtable! Ze place vhere all of Zalthorion's personal agents used to gather! But… well…" He looked around at the flaming decor and the drunk chaos. "…Ve stopped using it."
Nyxia gave him a long, unimpressed stare.
Wagner hiccupped once, then smiled sheepishly. "Heh. Ja, ja… enough nostalgia. Come, I take you out of zis mess."
He stumbled over to a section of the wall, brushing away dust with his sleeve. Pulling out his MTD, he pressed it flat against the surface the wall rippled, expanding into a swirling portal of blue light.
Wagner turned back to Nyxia and said, "Oh, by ze vay, once you bring little Eri to ze daycare, Zalthorion vants you at his tower."
Nyxia nodded quietly. "Understood."
Eri, still fascinated by the glowing portal, waved to Lyssara. "Bye, fire lady!"
Lyssara laughed through the flames. "Come back when you can dance!"
Nyxia sighed. "We're leaving before she teaches you that."
And with that, the three Nyxia, Eri, and the Orowyrm stepped through the portal, leaving Wagner to stare into the flames.
He raised the last of his whiskey in mock salute.
"To family reunions… und incoming headaches."
The bottle clinked softly against the floor as the portal closed.
◇◇◇
The streets of Evolto City were alive in a way Nyxia hadn't seen in years. Lanterns and holographic banners shimmered across the skyline, casting hues of gold and cerulean over the crowds below.
Laughter filled the air people embracing, friends reuniting, children chasing floating drones that sprayed trails of light like fireflies.
Everywhere he looked, there was joy unfiltered and raw.
A city celebrating many of the populations return.
Nyxia walked quietly through it all, his steps steady but his expression distant. A few citizens recognized him a polite wave here, a nod there but he didn't linger. His mind was already ahead, to the message, to the tone in Zalthorion's voice.
When he reached the daycare, Eri clung to his sleeve for a moment before looking up at him with her big, trusting eyes.
"Will you come pick me up, Daddy?" she asked softly.
He knelt, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Always," he said with a small smile, then watched as she ran to play with the others the Orowyrm fluttering off her shoulder and curling around a laughing toddler like a glowing ribbon.
Then Nyxia turned and began walking toward the towering heart of the city.
The Central Spire loomed above the metropolis a monument of white alloy and black glass that seemed to pierce the artificial sun. As Nyxia entered, the air changed quieter, colder, the kind of silence that carried weight.
He stepped into the elevator, his reflection flickering on the mirrored walls.
Each floor that passed felt heavier. By the time the doors opened at the top, his pulse was already quickening.
He walked down the hall to the massive onyx doors of Zalthorion's office and knocked once.
A calm, deep voice replied from within.
ZALTHORION: "Come in."
Nyxia pushed the door open.
Zalthorion sat at his desk, the cityscape projected behind him but instead of glass, the "window" was a holographic feed, flickering with the image of a news anchor.
"Reports continue to spread across the multiverse regarding a mass resurgence of Evolto City agents.
Founder Zalthorion Veilstryx has allegedly issued a recall order, suggesting something significant is approaching.
Speculation grows: could this event coincide with the upcoming Resonance of the Metallurge the annual celebration of the awakening of the City's forgemasters or perhaps during the Seeding Ceremony next month?
Citizens are advised to remain calm—"
The broadcast muted automatically as Zalthorion turned in his chair.
His golden eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, calm but heavy with thought. The hum of distant power filled the silence between them.
"Nyxia," he said, his tone unreadable.
"You came sooner than I expected."
Nyxia straightened instinctively. "You called. I wasn't about to ignore it."
Zalthorion gave a faint, approving nod.
"Good. Then we have much to discuss."
Zalthorion rose from his seat, the movement smooth, deliberate. He walked to a side table carved from voidstone, and poured two glasses of deep crimson wine. The liquid shimmered faintly, reflecting threads of golden light as if stars had been crushed into it.
He handed one to Nyxia before taking a seat opposite him.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Zalthorion's voice broke the silence calm, rich, carrying the weight of aeons.
"Tell me, Nyxia," he began, his eyes focused on the swirling liquid in his glass,
"have you ever studied the structure of the multiverse or better yet… the Omniverse itself?"
Nyxia blinked, slightly caught off guard by the question.
He shook his head. "No, sir. I never did."
Zalthorion nodded slowly, as though expecting the answer.
"That's to be expected. Few ever do fewer still survive long enough to truly understand it."
He leaned back, the faint reflection of galaxies rippling across his golden eyes.
"Let me explain."
He raised a hand, and the air shimmered a holographic model of the Omniverse unfolded before them: a vast sphere of infinite lights, layered like glass within glass, each fragment pulsing with its own rhythm.
"The Omniverse," Zalthorion said, his tone turning almost reverent,
"is divided into Sectors. Each one contains its own realities, its own laws, its own chaos.
Occasionally, small multiverses drift colliding, merging forming bridges between sectors."
He turned his gaze to Nyxia.
"These Sectors are ruled by beings known as the Sector Masters. They are the ultimate arbiters of existence. Everything from the smallest atom to the grandest reality obeys their will."
He motioned again, and the projection shifted now displaying three concentric rings around the Omniverse's core.
"They are separated by three generations," he continued.
"The First Generation birthed when the Omniverse came into existence.
The Second adopted or created by the First.
And the Third mortals who rose high enough to be acknowledged by the Second, granted small fragments of reality to rule."
The projection pulsed again this time revealing distant figures of immense scale, their outlines made of starlight and void.
"And then," Zalthorion's tone hardened,
"there are the Omniversal Gods.
They are much like the Third powerful beyond reason but unlike them, they were never acknowledged by the First or Second.
They forged their own domains… by taking what was not theirs."
He set his glass down, the soft clink echoing like a whisper.
"Some are humble. Some are patient. But others a small, arrogant few see the drifting realms as prizes to claim."
Nyxia listened silently, eyes tracing the cosmic map.
Zalthorion continued, his voice low but resolute.
"Evolto City does not belong to any sector. We are singular.
We drift freely, endlessly through the Omniverse.
And soon… we will drift into the domain of one of those arrogant gods."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"It will happen in approximately two months around the Seeding Ceremony.
That is why I recalled the agents. Even with our Exo-Guard legions and Jaeger fleets, it may not be enough if the god's domain proves vast."
Nyxia frowned, the edge of tension creeping into his voice.
"So the recall… it's a preparation."
Zalthorion nodded.
"Exactly. Preparation not for battle, but for survival."
He studied Nyxia carefully now, eyes narrowing.
"And you, Nyxia. The reason I called you personally you've grown comfortable.
You've lost a part of your essence, yes… but that doesn't mean you've grown weak."
Zalthorion leaned forward slightly, his tone turning colder almost mentoring, almost commanding.
"You will train. You will refine your power again. The drift into the god's domain will test every one of us. And I will need you ready."
Nyxia straightened in his seat, nodding. "Understood, sir."
Zalthorion's gaze softened just slightly.
"Good. Now tell me have you been using the weapons forged by The Smith?"
Nyxia hesitated, then answered honestly. "I have… but not that much, sir."
Zalthorion's expression shifted into something between amusement and quiet reproach.
"Of course you haven't," he murmured, shaking his head.
"Go to him for maintenance. You'll need them soon more than you realize."
He took another slow sip of wine before setting the glass aside.
The hologram of the Omniverse flickered out, leaving only the two of them and the faint hum of the city beyond.
For a moment, Zalthorion's gaze drifted toward the window toward the Cerian Sun's gentle glow.