Far across the fractured belts of the Dying Orbit, deep within the artificial world of Solas Prime, a figure stirred beneath layers of dormant machinery.
Gears that hadn't moved in millennia shuddered. Red lights blinked to life. Systems once thought defunct hummed with cold energy.
At the center of it all, a crystalline sphere pulsed like a heart. It was the Core—built by the Precursors to monitor cosmic entropy, and once, to imprison something far worse.
Now, it was waking up.
---
Russ sat cross-legged on the floor of the Void Vault, his breathing steady as he tried to commune with the blade now bound to his arm. The Voidblade Kairos didn't just cut—it whispered.
And Russ was learning to listen.
"You're talking to a sword," Xel remarked, leaning against a wall, arms crossed. "Next, you'll be naming it and giving it a backstory."
Russ cracked an eye open. "It already has one. It used to belong to a Reaper of the Last Cycle. It's killed gods, collapsed star-thrones, even rewrote a timeline."
"Oh. Casual."
"But it remembers more than just violence," Russ said quietly. "It remembers… guilt."
Kairos stirred slightly in response, like it agreed.
That was the part that shook Russ more than anything. The blade wasn't just a weapon. It was sentient—but fractured. Bits of a former mind echoed through its steel. A soldier. A destroyer. A guardian.
The echoes left Russ with dreams—visions of battles on dead moons, lovers turned enemies, and decisions that cracked universes in half.
---
Back in Solas Prime, the crystalline Core spoke.
> [ACCESSING LOG: R-9. Name: "Oblivion Shard." Status: ACTIVE.]
[CYCLE ANOMALY DETECTED – NEW HEIR ASCENDED.]
[PROTOCOL INITIATED: REFORGE GUARDIANS.]
Across the galaxy, sealed bunkers opened. Machines stirred. Beings crafted to prevent the rise of another Oblivion Archon emerged—half-flesh, half-circuit, fueled by purpose alone.
They did not sleep. They did not question.
They only hunted.
---
Russ stood, rubbing his temples. "Something's changed. I feel… watched."
"Same," Xel said, tapping her visor. "I just intercepted a Precursor signal—triangulated to Solas Prime. That place is supposed to be offline, but…"
"But it's not anymore," Russ finished grimly.
The Void pulsed in his veins. Not with malice—but with warning.
Kairos whispered again, this time not in a voice, but a memory.
"The Core is not your enemy. But it guards what must remain sealed. If the seal fails… entropy will have a name again."
Russ turned to Xel. "We're going to Solas Prime."
"Oh good," she said dryly. "Because I didn't want to live long anyway."
He smirked. "You've already lived too long. Time to make it count."
As they stepped out of the Vault, the world seemed… sharper. The colors deeper. The shadows more alive.
Russ no longer walked alone. The Void walked with him now—not as a curse, but as an inheritance.
And far away, deep in Solas Prime's Core, a synthetic voice uttered one final log:
> [CYCLE REBOOT CODE: 0001 – THE ARCHON RETURNS]
Then the alarms began.