The Void stretched endlessly beyond the broken horizon — a wasteland of flickering terrain and dead code. Fragments of old worlds floated like ghosts in the distance, dissolving into pixels every few seconds.
Inside our makeshift base — safehouse left over from some forgotten RPG — I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scrap metal, wires, and a cracked comm unit that refused to cooperate.
"Come on…" I muttered, prying open the side panel. A faint spark jumped across my glove. The screen flickered once, teasing life, then went dark again.
Static. Always static.
Blaze's voice drifted from behind me. "You've been at that thing for hours,Starborn. I'm starting to think you just like the sound of failure."
I looked over my shoulder. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, that damn grin on his face again — confident, teasing, effortlessly calm.
"I like progress," I shot back. "This comm is the only thing that connects to the old resistance network. If I can get it working, maybe I can pick up fragments — signals, logs, something."
He raised a brow. "You sure there's anything left to find? The Void isn't exactly known for good reception."
"I don't care. There's always something left."
He didn't argue, but the smirk softened a little — a flicker of something like understanding passing across his face.
I turned back to the comm, reconnecting the tiny power cell. It hummed faintly, glowing weakly before sputtering out again.
"Damn it…" I exhaled sharply. "Circuits are fried. I'll need new ones."
"Circuits," Blaze repeated thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Alright. Maybe we can salvage some. There's a cluster of collapsed city maps near the southern ridge — looks like fragments from a tech-based game. Could be something usable there."
I glanced up. "You mean another gathering run?"
He nodded. "We'll need more rations anyway. Two birds, one stone."
I gave him a small nod. "Then let's go. Maybe this time we'll get lucky."
Before he could answer, a sharp voice cut through the air from the doorway.
"Requesting permission to join, sir."
We both turned.
SK stood there — posture straight, expression sharp, silver armor glinting faintly under the flickering light. Even here, in the middle of the dead zone, she carried herself like a soldier on parade.
"Join?" I echoed. "You just got back from patrol."
She didn't even look at me. "Exactly. Which means I'm more qualified for recon than someone who's spent the day talking to a broken radio."
My jaw tightened. "It's not just a—"
"Enough," Blaze said, raising his hand slightly. "SK, why do you want to come?"
"Because, sir," she said crisply, "Ryze went with you last time. I haven't had the chance to observe the field with you directly. I believe it would be… instructive."
Of course. Observe the field. Sure.
She just wanted to be near him.
I felt the spark of irritation crawl up my neck. "You can't be serious," I said, turning to Blaze. "We work better as a team. You said it yourself."
"Correction," Blaze said with a small grin. "I said you and SK could work better as a team. Didn't say we were there yet."
SK smirked faintly, folding her arms. "I agree with that assessment."
"Unbelievable."
Blaze pushed off the wall, stretching lazily. "Relax, Ryze. It's just a short scavenging trip. You'll get your turn next time."
"Next time?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes. "That's not—"
But he was already walking toward the door, sliding his sword into its sheath. "Try not to blow up the base while we're gone. And maybe fix that comm. Who knows — maybe you'll surprise me."
SK followed him, pausing just long enough to glance back at me. Her voice softened a little, but only for him.
"Understood, sir. I'll make sure we return before nightfall."
When the door closed behind them, the silence that followed felt heavier than before.
I slumped back against the wall, staring at the comm unit in front of me. Its cracked surface reflected my face — tired eyes, messy silver hair, and that faint trace of frustration that just wouldn't go away.
I told myself it wasn't jealousy.
But it was.
It wasn't just about SK going with him — it was everything. The way she addressed him as sir like he was some kind of commander. The way she stood straighter whenever he spoke. The way she listened.
I used to be like that, back in the Resistance.
I remembered standing in formation, waiting for orders, believing every word mattered.
But SK wasn't one of us. She was Empire. A soldier of the same system that had crushed entire worlds. The fact that Blaze — our Blaze — treated her with that calm respect felt wrong.
We'd fought her kind for years. And now we were sharing a base.
It made me sick.
Still, a part of me couldn't help but admit — she was strong. Too strong to ignore. Every time she moved in combat, it was sharp, deliberate. Perfectly trained. Her skill wasn't the problem.
It was her silence. Her obedience.
The way she made me feel… replaceable.
I reached out, touching the comm again. "Come on," I whispered, voice shaking slightly. "Just give me something."
It flickered once, static hissing through the air. For a brief second, I thought I heard a voice — faint, broken, buried under distortion.
"…Resis… unit… zero—"
Then it was gone.
The sound cut out completely.
I slammed my fist against the table, the metal creaking under the impact.
Outside, the wind howled softly across the ruins. The Void was alive in its own way — whispering with the echoes of old games and forgotten battles.
Somewhere out there, Blaze and SK were moving through the wreckage — scavenging, laughing maybe. She'd probably call him "sir" every five minutes, and he'd just chuckle like he always did.
I hated that image more than I wanted to admit.
Hours passed.
I tried working again, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It wasn't just anger. It was something else — something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Fear.
Not fear of dying. I'd faced worse than that.
Fear of being left behind.
The Resistance taught us that no soldier was irreplaceable. When one fell, another took their place. But here, in the Void, that truth felt sharper.
We weren't fighting for territory anymore. We were fighting to exist.
Blaze had saved both of us — me and SK — when we were fell between broken fragments of worlds. I'd thought that meant something. That he saw something in me.
Now I wasn't so sure.
I walked over to the window — or what was left of it. The cracked glass showed the infinite expanse of dead code outside. Somewhere in that darkness was CyberGale — the next dead world Blaze had mentioned exploring.
A tech-city once built by SynCorp — now abandoned, crawling with glitch-beasts and rogue AI fragments. Almost every game that died out here had SynCorp's fingerprints on it.
Just like everything else they touched.
The Resistance used to warn us about them. "When SynCorp owns the code," my old commander used to say, "they own the soul of the world."
Maybe that's why Blaze wanted to go there next. Maybe he thought there were answers waiting.
Or maybe he just wanted to see how far he could push SK.
I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. The silence pressed in again — cold and absolute.
For the first time since the Void swallowed us, I realized how quiet it could be without his voice around. No teasing remarks, no lazy chuckles, no half-smiles that made everything seem less hopeless.
Just the hum of the dead world.
Just me.
I looked down at the comm again, its broken surface catching the dim light.
"Come on," I whispered again. "Don't leave me in the dark too."
No response.
Hours later, I heard footsteps outside. I moved to the door, expecting Blaze's familiar whistle — but it was just the wind, echoing through the hollow ruins.
I exhaled, stepping back.
"Guess it's just me tonight," I murmured, forcing a small smile that didn't reach my eyes.
The static from the comm filled the room again — a soft, constant hiss.
I let it play.
It was better than silence.