Three days vanished into fever and light.
John Maux surfaced from dreams of lightning and sand to the cool hum of the Rejuvenation Spire. A lattice of golden filaments hovered inches above his skin, knitting micro-fractures, coaxing his nervous system away from the cliff's edge. Every so often, a ripple of static teased his fingertips; the overhead runes answered with a soft chiming, as if the building itself were listening to his pulse.
Memories returned in shards: the battlefield, a sword older than history, a sky split open, Ronni's name torn from his throat. The rest was rushing water—Bella's command to move, armored hands lifting him, a chamber of light swallowing the world. Between waking and the dark, he had heard men whisper "Prime Shock" with the gravity of a funeral bell.
Now the world reassembled.
The chamber's wall irised open. Queen Bella Tukana entered with the stillness of a blade at rest. Obsidian and gold armor framed her flawless form; her golden headdress was simple but powerful, each step a measure of controlled grace. Emerald-amber eyes searched him—assessing, never pleading.
"You live," she said evenly. "That was not guaranteed."
John pushed himself upright. The filaments withdrew.
"Ronni. Did anyone—"
"Who is this Ronni?"
"My sister," John replied. "She was right beside me before the flash of light."
"When the portal opened, I saw a little girl with red hair behind you," Bella said. "But she did not materialize when the gate collapsed." She continued before he could press further. "Your activation destabilized the Nexus. You've caused a great deal of trouble. However, I will have my scouts comb the area around the temple to see if we missed her."
Hope hurt. He swallowed it.
"Where… is here?"
"The Rejuvenation Spire of Vey-Ra—capital of the Eramet Empire," Bella replied. "You crossed to us through the Prime Nexus. You survived because your biology insisted on it." Her gaze flicked to the faint opal sheen in his irises. "Because you are Prime."
John blinked. "Of course I am…" He tried to sound confident, but the words came out thin. "What exactly does that mean?"
"It means your pineal gland has awakened. It's forced its way past the limitations placed on it by your creators. It now produces small amounts of Prime Fluid, which your body slowly absorbs." Her tone was clinical. "In your case, catalyzed under mortal stress. It will build—slowly. As it accrues, you may develop the capacity to control Nebulous forces: magnetism, gravity, electricity. For now, you are a candle in a storm—bright, brief, and easily snuffed."
"Great," John muttered. "So… a walking surge protector."
Bella ignored the sarcasm. "Young man, I need you to focus. Sabelo almost took your head, but I believe in you." John's face twisted with an expression caught between fear and astonishment as he turned to gaze upon Sabelo's cat-like eyes set deep in a Bengal tiger head.
"Look at me," Bella commanded, her voice sharp. "This is not a game. You will train. Lieutenant Sabelo will teach you how not to die."
"Die? I was just trying to build an app."
"Death is probable," Bella replied without emotion. "Managing the spark within you is a constant battle. Now that your Prime nature has been exposed, Rex Lucius and the Toroxan Horde will seek to capture you. Fortunately, your surge turned a rout into a reprieve. But a Prime who cannot govern himself is a catastrophe. The Eramet are obligated by oath to ensure you do not become one."
"My obligations are to you?"
"To what made you," she corrected. "The Eramet and our sister empires seeded life on your world, John. Behave accordingly."
The floor seemed to tilt. He thought of his apartment in Phoenix, cheap coffee, lines of code—and how small his life felt up until this point. "Humans… are from here?"
"From us," Bella corrected. Then, with her composure restored, "Lieutenant Sabelo awaits to start your training."
The training fields sprawled in the shadow of singing obelisks. Between them, thin threads of cobalt lightning stitched the air. The ground shimmered with faint geometric patterns, as if the planet itself remembered every battle ever fought here.
Lieutenant Sabelo, barefoot and unshakable, waited in the center circle—a mountain of sinew and calm. His golden fur was bound into a tight braid; scars mapped constellations across his arms. His Bengal-tiger face was unreadable, eyes a predatory amber softened only by discipline.
"Prime," he said, bowing slightly. "I am Sabelo of the Sulu Empire. We begin your training now."
John glanced toward Bella. She stood at the perimeter, flanked by guards. He felt her attention gripping him like gravity.
Sabelo pressed a palm to his chest.
"Your heart is sprinting. Good. Fear tells truths the mind ignores."
He drew a shallow circle in the sand.
"Rule number one: control your breath. In… hold… out. Always."
They breathed until the city's hum matched John's pulse. The more he aligned with the vibration of the world, the stronger he felt. The air itself seemed to inhale and exhale with him, every obelisk a lung.
"Now," Sabelo said. Four drone-shields rose from the sand and locked around John, glowing with runes. "These pylons will agitate your internal magnetic field. You will listen to the pull without being consumed by it."
"Listen to magnetism. Sure." John smirked weakly. "And if I can't?"
"There will be pain. Possibly death," Sabelo replied, unbothered. "So let's see how funny you are when a Berserker buries an axe clean through your chest."
Without waiting for John's reaction, Sabelo turned away, his heavy footfalls sinking into the charged sand. His striped tail flicked once—a silent dismissal.
"Stabilize your breath, Prime," he called over his shoulder. "Your jokes won't keep you alive."
The pylons sang. The air thickened, pulling at him. Fine grit slithered toward his feet. He widened his stance: heels down, chin up, spine straight.
Four in. Hold. Six out.
A spark leapt from his thumb and died. Another danced between pylons like a curious fish. Sweat rolled down his neck. A surge climbed his spine toward his skull—bright, hot, alien.
"Do not fight the power," Sabelo said. "Become it."
The spark snapped. Pain lanced through his chest; the drone-shields flared. John's breath hitched—his heart stopped.
Sabelo's hand slammed against his sternum; a pulse of controlled magnetism rippled through his body, kicking his heart back into rhythm. John gasped, wild-eyed, terrified.
"Get up," Sabelo ordered. "Again."
Hours blurred. Breath drills. Stance corrections. Static threading his forearms like silver ivy. Sabelo barked battlefield truths—angles, timing, weapon lines—in the same voice he used for prayers. Each failure ended in silence, revival, and another again.
By midday, John's muscles screamed. He learned that one kind of breath made the dust climb his legs; another dropped him unconscious. His heart stopped five times. Each time, Sabelo brought him back.
From the edge, Bella watched—cold, silent, measuring.
"Again," Sabelo said. "Now with stimulus."
The pylons brightened; a column formed in the sand—faceless enemies.
"Breathe," Sabelo said. "Shape the field with your mind. Power it with your heart."
John tried. Nothing. The strength drained from him like light from water. His knees hit the sand. Darkness closed in.
Sabelo moved to catch him—then was thrown back, armor sparking. Bella rushed forward and was repelled by the same invisible wave.
"Sabelo," she called, rising from the ground, "you may have pushed him too far. He's only an Earthling."
Sabelo grinned, baring fangs. "Really?"
John's chest rose, slow and unnatural. His body lifted inches from the ground.
"Everyone—drop your metals!" Sabelo barked.
The sound of armor and weapons hitting sand echoed around the arena.
John's eyes opened—glowing violet. He hovered in a soft electromagnetic haze, heart steady, breath calm. He looked at his hands, awestruck.
"How was I breathing without oxygen? And what are these… swirling things everywhere?"
"Good progress," Sabelo said simply. "Tomorrow, I teach you shields." He turned and walked away, offering no explanation.
Bella approached with her bodyguard, Baako Osi. "You ask good questions," she said. "You now see the magnetic spectrum. The rest can wait until your mind can bear it."
"Wait—no," John said, frustration breaking through. "I've been patient. I want answers!" He reached for her arm.
A blinding strike caught the side of his head.
Darkness.
When he woke, voices drifted through the haze.
"He learns slowly," Sabelo said, "but he has courage."
"Then teach me faster," John rasped, forcing his eyes open.
Bella turned to him. "Your sister remains unaccounted for. Our scouts found traces of two others in the Nexus—one in Torox, another in Icenaria. We'll contact the Icenarians, but Torox will be… difficult."
"What's complicated about Torox?"
Bella's expression hardened. "You've met Rex Lucius and his lieutenant—the dragon-daemon woman. They now lead the Toroxan Horde. If Lucius conquers Nibiru, he gains access to the Intergalactic Portal and will invade Earth. He will enslave your kind and drain the planet for Diamontion."
John swallowed. "Okay… I get it."
"Good," Sabelo said. "Then listen: a Prime's body is a universe unto itself. Prime Fluid grows slowly, but discipline hastens it. Today you unlocked vision. That is enough."
A courier arrived, breathless, carrying a prism of light. Bella took it, reading the transmission silently before speaking.
"A vector signal from Serein Gate. King Kago's delegation has been ambushed in Icenaria. Nordenheim Berserkers have seized the Icenarian capital."
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
"But, my Queen," a senator cried, "the Nordenheim princess is the mother of King Kago's heir!"
"I know," Bella said, her tone brittle. "Pray they survived. Without them, the Toroxans will overrun us before the Akush arrive."
John murmured, "Ronni…"
"Possibly," Bella said. Then to Sabelo: "Increase his training velocity—without breaking him."
"We'll resume in the morning," Sabelo said.
From the far obelisk, the Nexus hummed softly—either in approval or in warning.