The Belt was not silent.
It hummed—low and alive, like the voice of something ancient remembering pain.
Ryu followed behind Zha'Kor, Vaelyra perched contentedly on his shoulder, her tiny claws weaving through his dreadlocks as if they were ribbons. Around them, shattered vessels drifted in the crimson haze, their hulls welded together by strange black resin and anchored to asteroid cores.
The result wasn't chaos.
It was structure—crude, beautiful, and alive.
Towers of inverted ship hulls formed a skyline that stretched for miles. Cables of glowing red fiber pulsed like veins through the wreckage, linking reactor cores and fractured engines into makeshift streets. What had once been the ruins of divine and rebel fleets now shimmered like a city reborn from tragedy.
The Scourged Camp.
A sanctuary for the forgotten.
As they descended a curving path of shattered solar panels, Ryu's eyes widened. Dozens—no, hundreds—of beings moved below.
Some resembled Zha'Kor: towering, winged, their flesh a blend of organic and metallic. Others were smaller, sharper, or stranger—each shaped by whatever experiment had damned them. Despite their monstrous forms, there was life here. Laughter. Even music—a strange, resonant rhythm played on hollow bones and metal drums.
Vaelyra giggled, braiding a few of Ryu's locks. "They'll like you," she said innocently.
Ryu blinked. "That's… good? Right?"
"She's never said that to anyone before." Zha'Kor's voice rumbled softly as he walked beside them, his wings folding close. "Vaelyra has never touched another being besides myself and her mother."
Ryu's expression softened. "She… must be strong."
"She is," Zha'Kor said, his tone both proud and mournful. "Her gift—her curse—is her hearing. Her mother's mutation stole her sight entirely. Vaelyra's kept her eyes, but her ears…" He paused, watching the girl tracing lines along Ryu's shoulder. "Her hearing is sharper than the gods would ever allow. She can hear the rhythm of intent. One heartbeat—one breath—and she knows truth from deceit."
Ryu looked between father and daughter, silent but fully attentive.
"She's never lied to me," Zha'Kor said quietly. "And she trusts you."
That struck Ryu harder than any punch had.
Ahead, the path curved into a vast chamber—a hollowed asteroid tethered to the camp's heart. Ryu saw the inhabitants look up, their eyes glinting in the gloom. Whispers spread. The air thickened.
Zha'Kor's tone shifted, low and cautious.
"When we arrive, they will stare. Some will sneer. Others… will remember what humans did to us." His gaze turned distant. "We are all test subjects, Flamebearer. And our curse does not end with us. Every child born among the Scourged carries a mutation—some visible, others hidden in the soul. We survive. But we are never allowed to forget what we were made into."
Ryu swallowed. "Then I'll make sure they remember me for something else."
Zha'Kor's lips twitched—just slightly. "We will see."
They continued downward, the air thick with the metallic scent of plasma and old memory.
⸻
Meanwhile…
Far below, the red atmosphere of the dwarf planet tore apart as two streaks of light burned through the sky.
Onyx and Luto broke through the upper atmosphere, their forms wrapped in a thin veil of dimensional pressure. The moment they crossed into the Belt, the world changed.
A graveyard awaited them.
Shattered fleets stretched across endless crimson mist—ships from a thousand wars, all frozen mid-death. Celestial armor floated beside broken banners. Divine spears drifted like dying suns, their light long gone.
Luto's scanner blinked rapidly. "The Rythe output here is insane… There's divine residue everywhere. And this—" He knelt near a drifting helm, touching the cracked sigil. "Standard Executioner design. This was a purge site."
Onyx hovered beside him, staring into the abyss of wreckage. "The gods did this?"
Luto nodded grimly. "Sixty years ago, maybe more. The readings are old but potent. Whoever lived here didn't die quietly."
A low sound echoed through the metal—something between a hum and a chant.
Onyx froze. "Luto."
"I hear it."
It was melodic, almost holy—voices in harmony. But the longer it went on, the more it warped, bending into frequencies that made even void energy tremble.
"The hell is that?" Luto whispered.
"The Scourged Choir," came Onyx's quiet reply. His instincts flared. "We're not alone."
Shapes began to emerge from the red mist—slender, bat-winged silhouettes moving in perfect synchronization. Their eyes glowed faintly blue, and their bodies pulsed with resonance energy, each heartbeat syncing with the next.
Luto's hand twitched toward Nulvyr. "They're locking on."
"Stay calm," Onyx said, though his own weapon—Varkal'Zir—was already forming its crescent edge. "We don't know if they're hostile."
The lead figure tilted its head. Its voice cut through the silence like a symphony half-remembered.
"Outsiders…"
The air vibrated.
"…You walk in the grave of gods."
Luto and Onyx exchanged a look—then raised their guards as the Choir began to descend, wings unfolding like judgment itself.
⸻
The Scourged Choir hovered above the wreckage, their bodies outlined by faint blue resonance light. Dozens of wings beat in perfect sync, creating a low-frequency hum that made the nearby debris shiver.
Luto and Onyx stood suspended among the wreckage, the crimson mist swirling around them. Neither spoke at first—both waiting to see if the Choir would make the first move.
Finally, Luto exhaled sharply. "So… are we talking, or screaming?"
Onyx's expression didn't shift. His hand tightened around Varkal'Zir. "Don't provoke them."
"I wasn't," Luto muttered. "I was asking politely."
The hum intensified—like an orchestra tuning itself before the first note of a funeral dirge.
Onyx's eyes flickered. "Luto," he murmured suddenly, "where's Velgrath?"
Luto blinked. "What do you mean, 'where's Velgrath?' He's your Void Beast."
Onyx hesitated. "I don't know."
Luto's composure cracked for a rare moment. "What the hell do you mean you don't know? You literally summoned him before we left the planet!"
"I know," Onyx said, his tone clipped. "He vanished before we breached orbit. It's not my fault."
Luto's irritation melted into wary calculation. "So… is this connected to your lost memories?"
Onyx nodded once. "Yeah."
The admission hung heavy between them, even as the Choir's eerie hum grew louder.
Onyx finally said it. "After you freed me with the Soul-Tether Transference, my void changed. It's like they were… freed too. They've become more—aware. More like who they were before they died."
Luto tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "And that's safe?"
"It is," Onyx said, a small smirk breaking through the seriousness. "They don't disobey me. It's more like they're… curious kids. Testing their boundaries."
Luto's mouth twitched. "So you're telling me you unleashed a bunch of curious children made of void energy into the multiverse?"
Onyx chuckled quietly. "When you put it that way…"
Luto sighed. "And you left Doruun down there alone?"
Onyx's confident grin froze.
Luto's voice dropped. "You left a mountain-sized void creature with the healer and a wildlife ecosystem."
"…He's gentle," Onyx said quickly. "Mostly."
⸻
Planet Surface
"THAT'S SO CUTE!"
Saelara's scream echoed across the plains. The ground beneath her feet trembled lightly with each of Doruun's movements. The colossal void beast crouched low.
Doruun extended one massive clawed finger, delicately petting a group of native creatures—four-legged, antlered animals with translucent hides and soft bioluminescent patterns. Tiny birds, their feathers shimmering in reds and golds, perched on the edges of his fingers.
Every time one chirped, Doruun let out a rumbling, delighted sound—almost like laughter.
Saelara had both hands clasped to her cheeks. "You are adorable!"
The animals pranced happily around his claws, completely unfazed by the cosmic aura radiating off him.
Back up in orbit, Onyx laughed nervously mid-conversation.
Luto side-eyed him. "You just remembered something, didn't you?"
"…Maybe," Onyx admitted.
⸻
The Choir moved closer. The lead figure drifted forward—a tall, lithe being with translucent wings lined in silver. Their eyes glowed a haunting blue. When they spoke, the sound came not as one voice, but as a harmony of three.
"I am Rha'vess the Sonorous, Keeper of the Choir."
Every syllable vibrated the air.
"Outsiders, you trespass on sacred ruins. State your purpose."
Onyx stepped forward, ready to answer, but Luto extended an arm, stopping him.
"Careful," he murmured. "We don't know how much they know about Ryu. If they think he attacked someone, this could get ugly fast."
Onyx scowled. "So what, we lie?"
"No," Luto said calmly, "we just ask questions back."
He looked up at the Choir. "Who are you?"
Rha'vess tilted their head. "We are the Choir. The echoes of those who were broken and remade. We sing not for gods or mortals—but for balance."
Luto's tone hardened. "Balance between what?"
Rha'vess's wings unfurled with a sharp snap, the resonance rippling through the debris field. "Between the living who forget their sins… and the dead who remember them."
Luto opened his mouth to reply—but the moment the words formed, every member of the Choir began to hum. The sound was pure and sharp, vibrating straight into bone.
"Luto," Onyx warned, voice low.
Rha'vess extended one clawed hand, palm glowing with shifting blue sigils.
"Then answer our question, outsiders."
Onyx gritted his teeth. "We told you—we're looking for—"
"—You refuse," Rha'vess said coldly, "to speak truth."
The Choir's hum turned into a deafening resonance wave. The surrounding debris fractured as if struck by invisible hammers. Energy flared between the singers, each one amplifying the other.
Luto shouted, "They're charging an attack!"
But before he could react, light erupted—bright enough to sear through the crimson haze.
⸻
Scourged Camp – The Belt
The explosion's flash reached even the depths of the camp.
Ryu's head snapped upward, his pupils constricting. The sky glowed white for a heartbeat, then bled back into red.
Around him, the Scourged panicked—children darting for cover, wings folding tight, the air thick with alarm.
"What was that?" Ryu asked, turning to Zha'Kor.
The giant's expression darkened, eyes reflecting the light above. "Not us. That came from higher up the Belt."
Vaelyra whimpered softly, clutching Ryu's arm. "Papa… the air is trembling."
Ryu's instincts screamed, an ache crawling up his spine. The resonance. The hum.
He'd heard it before.
And then, as he looked toward the horizon of the camp, something moved.
A dark figure stood silhouetted at the edge of the entrance, half-shrouded in mist. Wings unfolded—massive, bone-plated, radiating faint void energy.
The Scourged froze in place, murmurs spreading in terror.
Zha'Kor's jaw tensed. "Impossible…"
Ryu stepped forward, eyes widening. Recognition hit him like a hammer.
"…Velgrath?"
The creature's eyes burned red, but there was no recognition—only silence and the slow, deliberate crack of his twin cleavers.
The Scourged screamed.
The Belt trembled again.
And in that frozen second, Ryu realized something was terribly, terribly wrong.
⸻
To Be Continued…