Tarrin glanced around at the sea of bodies swarming the terminal, thousands of people packed shoulder to shoulder, all buzzing with nerves and noise.
In the middle of it all, he felt like just another cog in the machine. A name lost in the system.
A ghost.
His thoughts drifted—yesterday's meeting with Vincent, the moment he realized the man knew about the Kades. The cold grip of that revelation hadn't let go since.
Nor had the weight of the deal he'd struck with Hank.
The price had been steep.
But they'd be protected now. That much, at least, he could say. Being Scarred had opened doors. It had also painted targets.
'Now I just have to survive long enough to make it worth something.'
His jaw tightened. His gaze cut through the crowd, searching for his group—half-expecting them to have wandered off while he spiraled inward.
But they hadn't. Still there. Still waiting.
"Could this thing take any longer?" Lena's voice barely reached him over the din, her tone impatient, as always.
Jayden, standing beside her, peered ahead toward the looming transport. "You're telling me all of us are getting stuffed into that one train?"
Riko clapped a heavy hand on his back, grinning. "Don't worry, Goldie. I'll clear out a whole seat just for your delicate ass."
Tarrin didn't laugh.
Didn't smirk. Didn't blink.
Riko noticed. He leaned sideways toward the other two, lowering his voice in mock commentary.
"Here we see the rare and elusive Tarrinus Leviticus, caught mid-stare. Classic behavior of a creature lost in the vast, echoing chambers of his own damn skull."
He leaned in further, close enough to practically whisper into Tarrin's ear. "Yo, you still alive in there, bro?"
Tarrin turned his head slowly—too slow. His eyes were flat, unreadable, but sharp enough to draw blood. He didn't flinch. Didn't smile. Just stared through Riko like he wasn't even there.
"You want something, lil bro?" he asked, voice smooth, too calm. Like a blade sheathed in silk.
The nickname landed with a weight that Riko didn't know how to laugh off.
His smirk faded.
"The hell's up with you?" he muttered, brows furrowing. "You want me to catch a case or something?"
But Tarrin had already looked away. Back into the crowd. Back into the storm he knew was coming.
He felt a slight nudge to his side. His head twitched, eyes flicking toward the source—Celith, her calm golden gaze meeting his like it always did.
Like the fights ahead were already won. Like they weren't being sent to the front to die.
"Yo, something up?" he asked, his voice low but distant. He was half-there, the rest of him buried under something he didn't want to name.
"Wake up. We're boarding in five," Celith said, her voice quiet but grounding.
He gave a small nod. Barely a motion—but in that blink of a moment, something sharp flickered through his eyes. Gone just as fast. A crack in the mask.
Celith hesitated, picking up on it—or maybe just sensing the weight behind his silence. "Everything alright?"
Tarrin pulled a smile onto his face, but his gaze lagged before meeting hers. "Yeah. Just tired. Didn't sleep much. Burned too many hours training. What about you?"
It was the truth—but not the whole of it. Celith searched his face, looking for the lie. But this time, there was none to find. He wasn't hiding anything. He just wasn't saying it.
"I'm fine," she replied, cool and composed.
Tarrin clicked his tongue. "Not nervous? Or afraid? I don't know... something?"
She shook her head slowly, steady as stone.
Before the silence could stretch, Jayden looked up from his Telcom, brows furrowed.
"Hey—it's us. Tenth carriage. We should move."
They started walking, slipping into the slow-moving stream of soldiers being filtered into their assigned transports.
Their carriage wasn't far. They boarded alongside the rest of their battalion—faces they'd likely be stuck with for a long time.
The inside was cramped, steel benches bolted to the walls, the air stale with oil and sweat. They found a spot and sat down, shifting in uncomfortable silence.
Some of them stared blankly ahead. Others looked almost excited.
But beneath it all was one thing, thick and unspoken—
Dread.
Not loud or frantic. Just heavy. The kind that builds in layers. That sets in days before departure and coils tighter with every step forward.
Tarrin glanced sideways. Blonde ponytail. Same seat. Same silence.
He sighed internally.
'This is gonna get old real quick. And she doesn't even talk. How is that possible?'
At least Riko and Jayden were seated right in front of them. That, at least, felt normal. For now.
The next hour slipped by in a haze of ID checks, roll calls, and the rhythmic shuffle of boots as more soldiers packed into the carriages.
It all blurred together—until the sterile, synthetic voice of the announcer cut through the noise like a blade.
"Final warning. Train departure in thirty seconds. If you are not in your designated location, find it. If you are not cleared for the Outside, disembark immediately."
The words weren't shouted, but they rang with finality. The kind that locked things into place.
Tarrin's gaze flicked toward his group. Around him, shoulders stiffened.
He caught the way Celith's eyes narrowed ever so slightly—focused, cold, prepared. Like a switch had been flipped.
Then came the motion.
The train jerked once, then rumbled into steady movement.
And just like that—it was real.
A month of training, scheming, enduring… over.
They were headed for the front. For the first Isle. For the nightmare where it all began.
Tarrin's fingers curled slightly as he stared at the floor.
That alley.
That day.
It felt like a lifetime ago now. A different world.
Back when he was still scraping by—hawking fake jewelry, selling knock-off designer boots to drunks, spinning stories in bars just to get a free drink… or a bed.
It hadn't been much of a life.
But now, looking back, it almost felt unreal.
Like a life meant for someone else.
His eyes lifted to the window beside him.
Outside, titanic walls flanked the road that the rail line was set on, gray steel rising like cliffs.
Dozens of armed soldiers lined the battlements, unmoving—watchers of a threshold few ever crossed willingly.
Then, they passed it.
The First Bridge.
A marvel of impossible engineering, forged by ancient hands—or so the myths claimed.
It loomed ahead like a titan's spine, stretched across the unfathomable gap between Luna and the Outside.
Isle Zero.
The name alone sent a chill through him.
Beneath them, the Void opened wide—an endless black stretching far beyond vision. No light. No bottom. Just the infinite unknown. It swallowed the world without effort.
Tarrin found himself staring into it, unable to look away.
A whisper of motion beside him.
He turned slightly—and saw Celith, her gaze fixed on the same endless dark. Her expression didn't shift, but something flickered in her eyes. Not fear. Not doubt.
Something quieter.
Sadder.
Like she'd seen it before.
The train kept moving.
No one spoke.
Tarrin leaned back into his seat, the weight of it all pressing deeper into his chest. There was no going back now.
Only forward—into the dark.
The next sixteen hours crawled by in a haze of whispered conversations, tense silences, and the soft, metallic hum of the train. Tarrin slept through the weight of it.
When his eyes finally opened, his world felt… tilted.
Disoriented, his mind lagged behind, blurry with half-dreams and muscle aches. Then it hit him—his head was resting on someone's.
Not a seat.
Not the cold glass of a window.
Someone.
He blinked down.
Celith.
Her head lay against his shoulder, perfectly still, her breathing calm and even. And somehow, his own had found its way to rest against hers.
Tarrin froze. For once, not because of fear—though that wasn't far behind—but because of how surreal it felt.
He looked forward.
Riko was slumped against the window, mouth open, snoring softly.
Jayden, on the other hand, was wide awake… and staring straight at him.
His face said everything.
Bright-eyed. Ridiculously moved.
Like he'd just watched a tragic love story unfold in real-time.
Tarrin squinted at him, his expression deadpan.
'Love, huh? What a damn joke.'
Jayden didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
His goofy grin said plenty.
'Fucking soy boy.'
Carefully—painfully so—Tarrin began to straighten up. He didn't want to wake her. Not yet. There was something rare about the way she looked in that moment.
Her expression, so often composed and distant, now unguarded.
Peaceful.
Like the weight she always carried had slipped, just for a moment.
He wished he could see it more often.
But that wasn't how this world worked.
Not anymore.
"How long?" he whispered, barely moving his lips.
Jayden glanced at his Telcom and whispered back, "Ten minutes, give or take."
He still sounded a little awestruck. As if the sight of Celith sleeping on someone—on Tarrin—had broken a natural law.
Tarrin exhaled slowly, then reached out and tapped Celith's shoulder, just lightly.
He didn't even get to shake her.
Her eyes snapped open in an instant—wide, sharp, unblinking.
Tarrin's body went rigid.
Death.
That was the only word that came to mind.
He hadn't moved, hadn't said anything, and still—his instincts screamed that he was seconds from being gutted.
Then, just as suddenly, it passed.
The light in her eyes softened, and she blinked fully awake.
The killing intent vanished like it had never been there.
'She didn't even move… and I almost died? What the hell is her deal?'
She slowly lifted her head from his shoulder. Their eyes met.
For the briefest second, he saw something flicker in hers. A break in the usual calm.
Was that… embarrassment?
Tarrin wasn't sure.
But it was the first time she'd looked less like a soldier.
And more like a person.
Tarrin's next victim was Riko—who didn't get the gentle treatment.
His leg shot out and nailed him clean in the knee.
Riko bolted upright like a rookie caught napping during inspection.
"Yo! Chill the hell out, bro," he groaned, rubbing the spot. "I got a good dealer back in town. Can hook you up with something to take the edge off."
Tarrin let out a dry chuckle, one that came from somewhere deeper than humor.
"Sure thing, buddy. Wake your ass up first—we've got ten minutes, tops."
Riko gave him a squint, then looked him over like he was trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle.
"Boy… look at your damn hair. Acting like you didn't just come back from the dead. What was that, a ten-hour coma?"
Tarrin smirked but didn't answer. No point.
A few more snarky exchanges passed between them before he slipped away to the train's bathroom.
The mirror didn't offer much kindness. His hair looked like it'd been through a war zone, and his eyes still carried that glassy, half-haunted look.
He did what he could to fix it—ran some water through it, smoothed it down, gave up.
Mild success. At best.
He stepped back into the carriage, already halfway through another sarcastic remark—
Then he saw it.
His breath caught.
Out the window, the world had shifted.
The bridge, the polished steel and carved stone beneath them, was gone.
Dirt.
Soil.
Cracked, broken earth stretched out beneath the train now, swallowing the horizon.
He didn't sit.
Couldn't.
His legs froze in place, gaze fixed on what lay ahead.
The place he'd spent weeks trying not to think about.
The place that had haunted the edges of every plan, every deal, every desperate prayer.
He was here.
The battlefield.
Isle Zero.