The Void was silent again.
Hours had passed since Blaze and SK left for CyberGale, and the house felt different without his easy laughter or the faint hum of his old equipment. The lights flickered softly — a rhythm I had grown used to. Even the glitching wind outside had a strange calm to it, like the whole wasteland was waiting for something.
I sat near the window, staring into the pixel-fog horizon. Fractured towers from forgotten games floated like broken teeth above the black sand. Sometimes I imagined I could still hear the music of those lost worlds — half-melodies swallowed by static.
I tried to fix my comms again. Same issue. Circuits burned, signal broken. I knew Blaze could probably repair it in a heartbeat, but I didn't want to ask. Not now.
He had gone with SK.
I tightened the wires, listening to the faint crackle of dying energy. "Come on," I whispered. "Just once more—"
Nothing. Just static.
I leaned back, sighing. "Figures."
The house felt too big all of a sudden. Every corner hummed with memory — Blaze's tools scattered across the table, old armor parts half-cleaned, a rifle casing from Skyrealm polished to a dull silver. I had seen him use that casing once as a makeshift marker during training — calm, steady, confident as always.
That confidence was something I admired.
Maybe that's why it annoyed me so much when he was with her.
Hours crawled by. I found myself wandering through the house again, tracing the faint blue light lines on the walls — old tech veins from Skyrealm architecture. I had explored this place before, but tonight it felt different. Colder. Quieter.
My footsteps echoed softly as I moved toward the back room — the one Blaze always kept locked until recently. The door was slightly open now.
Inside were relics of worlds gone dark: banners of the Empire, cracked lenses from VR helms, armor plates stamped with crests I barely remembered. I brushed my hand across one — the metal cold and faintly humming with energy.
"Skyrealm…" I murmured. "You were one of them."
I already knew Blaze had fought in the Great War — the First war after the Great Collapse. But seeing the insignias, the medals, the broken sword pieces… it felt real in a way that stories never did.
He wasn't just a survivor.
He was part of it.
And somehow, he'd ended up here, playing mentor to two broken soldiers — one from the Empire, one from the Resistance. Maybe that irony was what amused him so much.
"Sir Blaze this, sir Blaze that…" I muttered, shaking my head.
SK always said it like a command — sharp, respectful, obedient. Like Blaze was her superior, not her companion. And he never corrected her. He'd just smile that easy, careless smile, as if he didn't even notice the weight those words carried.
I hated how natural it sounded between them.
I sat down at his workbench, my eyes tracing the markings on a disassembled weapon. The engraving was old — something from the early Skyrealm era. "RB-Series Prototype," it read.
Blaze's initials.
For a moment, I just stared at it. The soft hum of Void-wind brushed against the walls, whispering through the cracks like ghosts of code. I pressed a hand against the weapon — it was warm, faintly pulsing. Alive, almost.
"You've got more secrets than you admit," I whispered.
A small light blinked on the console nearby — the system picking up faint external motion. My heart skipped.
Footsteps outside. Two signals.
They were back.
When the door hissed open, Blaze stepped in first — his armor marked with faint dust from the CyberGale ruins, his sword strapped across his back. SK followed, helmet still on, posture sharp and confident. The faint blue lights of the void reflected off her silver visor.
"We're back," Blaze said, his voice easy, familiar. "Got some good stuff too."
SK placed a crate on the floor with a metallic thud. "CyberGale's still crawling with old constructs, sir. But nothing we couldn't handle."
"'Sir,' huh?" I said quietly. "Still keeping that up?"
She looked at me, unreadable behind the visor. "It's a title of respect."
"Or submission," I muttered.
Blaze raised an eyebrow, glancing between us. "Easy, you two. Not even five minutes in the door and already debating honorifics?"
SK didn't respond. She simply crossed her arms, standing straighter. "Permission to debrief, sir?"
"Denied," Blaze said with a grin. "You're off duty. Grab some rest."
That earned the faintest tilt of her head — she wasn't used to being dismissed so casually. But she obeyed, walking toward the corner where her gear was stored. Blaze watched her for a second, then turned toward me.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
"No," I said too quickly. "Just… thought you'd be back sooner."
"Yeah, CyberGale's outer zone was rougher than expected. We found parts, though." He held up a small circuit board, tossing it lightly toward me. I caught it out of reflex.
"For your comms," he added. "Should work if you solder it right."
I stared at it, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "Thanks."
"No problem." He leaned against the table beside me, folding his arms. "You holding up okay?"
"Fine."
"You sure? You look like you're about to punch me or something."
"I'm not—" I started, then sighed. "I just… I don't like being left behind."
His smile softened. "I know."
For a moment, silence filled the room again — the comfortable kind, almost peaceful. But it was laced with something else. Something unsaid.
Later, when SK retreated to the upper floor to check supplies, Blaze stayed downstairs. He was cleaning his armor, humming faintly — a tune from Skyrealm, I realized. I sat nearby, pretending to fix my comms but mostly just… watching him.
He worked with easy precision, every motion steady, efficient. Calm. He didn't look like a soldier anymore — more like someone who'd long made peace with the ghosts behind him. Maybe that's what I envied most.
He looked up suddenly, catching me staring.
"What?" he asked, amused.
"Nothing."
"Hmm." He gave that quiet chuckle again — the one that always sounded halfway between teasing and genuine warmth. "You're a terrible liar."
I looked away. "You're impossible."
"Compliment accepted."
His confidence was infuriating. Effortless, magnetic — the kind that made people follow without question. No wonder SK respected him. No wonder she—
"Ryze," he said softly.
I blinked. "What?"
"You're quiet tonight. That's not like you."
"Just tired," I lied.
He studied me for a moment longer, eyes half-lidded but sharp, as if trying to read something in my expression. Then he just smiled — that same calm, unbothered smile.
"Get some rest," he said. "You'll need it."
"Yeah," I murmured. "You too."
Much later, after he'd gone to check the perimeter, I found myself back by the window. The Void stretched endlessly beyond the glass, shimmering faintly under fractured stars. My reflection stared back — tired eyes, silver hair dim under the pale glow.
I could hear faint laughter outside — Blaze and SK talking about something, her voice respectful, his low and amused. It stung more than I wanted to admit.
"He's just being himself," I whispered. "And you're just being stupid."
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was slowly pulling him somewhere I couldn't follow — back toward the Empire, maybe, or just closer to a part of himself he didn't share with me.
I clenched my fists, then forced them open again. Breathe.
Don't let it show.
When Blaze came back inside, he seemed lighter somehow — a faint spark in his eyes. He walked past me toward his armor stand, then paused. For just a second, he frowned — subtle, almost imperceptible.
"Ryze?" he asked quietly. "Everything okay?"
I forced a smile. "Of course. Why?"
He tilted his head slightly, gaze lingering on me. "Nothing. Thought I saw… something in your eyes."
"Probably just the light," I said.
"Yeah." He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. "Maybe."
He didn't press further. Just gave a nod, that same easy confidence back in his tone.
But as he turned away, I saw it — a brief flicker of uncertainty in his expression, like his instincts had caught something his mind hadn't.
And for the first time, I wondered if Blaze — the unshakable, unreadable Blaze — was starting to notice.