Lieutenant Asha Relin entered the medical ward with a tablet in hand and stopped beside Dr. Elias Grant's bed.
"Dr. Grant," she said, "how are you holding up today?"
Grant offered a tired smile. "Better than before. The pain's still there—dull, but present."
"You'll have to work through it," Relin replied as she checked his vitals. "We can't increase your painkillers any further."
"That's fine," Grant said. "I can handle this much."
Relin flipped through his latest reports. "Your readings look good. You just need time—for the cuts to heal, the ribs to mend. The bruises will fade too."
Grant took a slow breath. "Then… can you tell me what your people saw when they found me?"
Relin paused, then let out a quiet sigh. "I'm not technically supposed to discuss this without higher clearance. But you were there—and you may be our only chance at understanding what happened." She met his eyes. "First—what do you remember?"
Grant shifted slightly against the bed. "We were heading toward the Ravenrock Mountains. Stopped for the day. Started setting up camp. Then… out of nowhere, something hit us. The radar showed nothing. I was caught in a blast, and within seconds—darkness. When I woke up, I was already here."
"So you didn't see or hear anything during the attack?" Relin asked.
Grant shook his head. "No. I was out cold almost immediately."
Relin hesitated. "Maybe that was a good thing."
Grant frowned. "Why?"
"Because what the soldiers found out there…" She paused. "It was a nightmare. Bodies torn apart. Limbs scattered. People sliced clean in half. Even the armored transports—cut through like paper."
Grant's face drained of color. His jaw tightened as he absorbed the words.
Relin continued, her voice softer now. "We found you pinned under rubble. Your leg was crushed. Fractured ribs. Deep lacerations. Massive blood loss. We got you back here by chopper as fast as we could." She exhaled. "Honestly—we barely saved you."
Silence filled the room.
Then Relin added, quieter still, "We should've moved sooner. When we heard Fort Blackspear was relocating, we hesitated. If we hadn't… maybe—"
Grant cut in, his voice calm but firm. "Don't blame yourself. Even if your team had arrived earlier, it wouldn't have changed much. If something can slice armored vehicles in half, sending more people would've just meant more bodies on the ground."
Relin fell silent. The weight of his words lingered.
After a moment, Grant spoke again. "Did you find anything at the site? Anything that points to what attacked?"
Relin shifted her stance. "I'm sorry. I can't share that. Not without clearance from higher up."
Grant nodded. "Understood. But when you do get clearance—I want to know. Immediately."
Relin returned the nod, then turned and left the room.
She entered General Kaelen Mordane's office and snapped to attention.
"Sir," she began, "Dr. Grant is requesting access to the findings retrieved from the attack site."
Mordane looked up from the report in his hands. "What's his current condition?"
"He's stable now," Relin replied. "But he still needs time before he can move around properly."
The General's eyes narrowed. "Then he waits." He set the report aside. "If we tell him about that shard now, he'll start analyzing it from his bed. He'll push himself too hard—and we can't afford to lose a man like him."
He paused, then added firmly, "Tell him to focus on recovery. When he's cleared for movement, we'll talk."
Relin gave a crisp nod. "Understood. I'll deliver the message personally."
As she left the office, she crossed paths with Major Rix Harrow in the corridor.
"Lieutenant Relin," Harrow greeted.
She stopped and returned the nod. "Major. Something you need?"
"How's Specialist Renn holding up?"
"He's fine," she said. "Vitals normal. No unusual readings so far."
"Good." Harrow's tone gave nothing away. "Carry on."
Relin continued down the corridor and reached Dr. Grant's room. He was awake, sitting upright in bed.
"Any news?" he asked—already knowing the answer.
Relin sighed. "The General denied your request. He wants you focused on healing. No clearance for now."
Grant exhaled sharply, but didn't argue. "Fine," he said quietly. "Can't argue with the General."
Out in the wilds, the scout team pressed on.
Their vehicle—Strider—rumbled steadily over uneven terrain. Kato Drex sat in the backseat now, eyes half-closed. Rhea Tannis was back at the wheel, posture alert, fingers dancing lightly across the controls. Beside her, Vinn Seras watched the readout from the Nomad tracker in silence.
They drove through the fading light of day, then made camp beneath the stars.
Back in the small town.
Nero lay still on the narrow bed, eyes drifting shut beneath the soft creak of branches outside, stirred by the wind.
Silence settled.
Then—
a sound.
Distant. Muffled. Like someone calling through water.
"…lo? …gelo? Angelo?"
Nero's eyes opened—
—but he wasn't in the room anymore.
He stood in a world soaked in haze, a memory drained of color and warmth. A man walked toward him through the mist. Nero couldn't see his face, but the voice reached him clearly.
"Hey, you alright?" the man asked. "We need to keep moving north."
Nero's lips parted, but no sound came out. Only silence.
A second voice followed. Female. Stern—yet familiar.
"I told you not to read in the car."
Then the first voice again, thoughtful, amused.
"You ever try using fire and water together to make heavy mist? Could hide your position. Maybe even mask your scent."
The woman snapped back, sharp and immediate.
"If you two ever pull that again without warning me, I swear I will beat the living shit out of both of you."
Nero stood motionless. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
But he knew them.
Knew the voices. Knew the words. Even if the faces refused to show themselves.
The world darkened.
The same two figures stood nearby now, guns drawn, moving through shadow. Their mouths opened—shouting warnings, commands—but the world was mute. Gunfire flashed. Silent. Hollow.
Then—
they were gone.
"Behind you—!"
The voice rang out with painful clarity.
It was him.
Angelo.
Nero turned and saw him, struggling to rise from rubble. He followed Angelo's panicked gaze—
and saw them.
Slender, towering creatures. Arms like jagged swords.
They lunged—
stabbing the man through the back, the woman through the chest.
Both collapsed. Lifeless. Crumpling like paper.
Angelo screamed. He charged forward, firing blindly, grief tearing the sound from his throat. Even in silence, his pain was deafening—raw, unbearable.
Nero stood frozen.
Then everything shattered again, dissolving into shadow.
A voice whispered from the dark. Angelo's voice—heavy with blame.
"You let them get killed. They died because of you. People always die around you."
Nero spun, searching—
but he was alone.
Angelo's words echoed, burrowing deep.
Then another voice spoke.
Different.
Calm. Analytical. Deep.
"Perfect recall… comprehension… and now material reconstruction?"
Nero's breath caught.
That voice.
He knew that voice.
"You're talking about combustion enhancement through mental synthesis," it continued. "Do you have any idea how insane that is?"
Nero ran through the darkness, chasing it—desperate.
"Holy— That wasn't a fireball. That was a goddamn miniature sun!"
Then—
"Hey, kid."
Nero stopped.
A figure stood before him. Its face was hidden behind black smoke, but the stance—the
tone—hit something deep inside him.
The figure raised a hand, offering a shake.
"Dr. Elias Grant," he said, the smoke lifting as a crooked grin emerged.
"Your new tutor, mentor, and favorite source of headaches."
The smoke faded completely.
The face—
was revealed.
It hit Nero like a blow to the chest.
Elias Grant.
The tears came before he could stop them—sudden, overwhelming. His body shook with silent sobs. He tried to speak, but no words came. Only tears.
He reached forward—
and the dream broke.
Nero gasped awake, lungs tight, heart hammering in his chest. The room was still. Morning light lay pale and quiet around him.
He wiped the tears from his eyes.
The dream was already fading.
But two things burned into his mind—
the face.
the name.
Dr. Elias Grant.