Pain taught Alex how to breathe again.
Not the sharp kind that screamed and faded, but the deep, lingering ache that reminded him he was still alive. Still human—at least in some fragile way. He drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of voices around him, unfamiliar vibrations beneath his body, and a constant, pulsing pressure in his chest.
The Core.
It never slept.
Alex opened his eyes slowly.
The ceiling above him was translucent, layered with flowing streams of light that moved like slow rivers. Symbols drifted across its surface, rearranging themselves in patterns that felt almost… responsive.
"You're awake," a voice said.
Lyra.
Alex turned his head. She sat beside the platform he lay on, her posture rigid, her expression carefully neutral. But her eyes—those silver eyes—betrayed exhaustion.
"How long?" Alex croaked.
Lyra exhaled. "Three cycles."
"That means nothing to me."
She hesitated, then softened slightly. "About eighteen hours. Earth time."
Alex swallowed. "Zyphora Prime?"
"Stabilized," Lyra replied. "Barely. Archon Veyl is furious. Half the council wants you executed. The other half wants to study you."
"Comforting."
Lyra almost smiled. Almost.
Alex pushed himself up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that followed. "I need to understand this. Whatever I am—I can't keep reacting on instinct."
Lyra studied him for a long moment.
Then she stood.
"Good," she said. "Because if you don't learn control, you won't survive the next encounter."
The training chamber was unlike anything Alex had imagined.
It wasn't a room in the traditional sense—it was a space carved out of reality itself. The floor appeared solid, but stars shimmered beneath it, as if Alex were standing on a transparent sheet suspended over the cosmos.
Energy fields pulsed at the edges, responding subtly to his presence.
"This place exists outside most physical laws," Lyra explained. "It's where the Zyphorans trained weapons during the last collapse."
Alex winced at the word. "Weapons."
Lyra didn't deny it.
"Close your eyes," she said.
Alex frowned. "That's always when bad things happen."
"Trust me," Lyra replied quietly. "Just this once."
He did.
At first, there was nothing.
Then the pressure returned.
The Core stirred, spreading outward through his veins like liquid fire. Alex gasped as his heartbeat synchronized with something vast and distant.
"Don't fight it," Lyra's voice echoed. "Guide it."
"I don't know how!"
"Feel," she insisted. "The Core isn't power. It's connection."
Images flickered behind Alex's closed eyes—threads of light stretching endlessly, each leading to a different world. Some were bright and stable. Others flickered weakly, on the verge of collapse.
"You see them," Lyra said softly.
"Yes," Alex whispered. "They're… fragile."
"And you are tied to all of them," she said. "Your emotions, your choices—they resonate across those threads."
Alex's breath hitched. "That's insane."
Lyra's voice trembled. "That's responsibility."
Suddenly, one of the threads darkened.
Alex felt it like a knife twisting in his chest.
"What's happening?" he asked urgently.
Lyra's tone sharpened. "Focus on that thread. Just one."
Alex reached for it instinctively.
The chamber reacted instantly.
Reality rippled. The stars beneath the floor surged upward, forming a towering wall of light that nearly knocked Alex off his feet.
"Too much!" Lyra shouted. "Pull back!"
Alex stumbled, heart racing. The pressure receded—but not completely.
Lyra stared at him, awe and fear colliding in her expression.
"You almost reinforced a dying universe," she said.
Alex blinked. "I did what?"
Lyra nodded slowly. "Without training, without amplification. Do you have any idea how impossible that is?"
"No," Alex admitted. "But it felt… right."
Lyra turned away.
"That's what scares me," she said.
Training continued.
Hour after hour, Alex learned to sense without touching, to guide without pulling. He failed more than he succeeded. Each mistake sent shockwaves through the chamber—reality protesting his inexperience.
At one point, the floor cracked beneath him, revealing a vision of a world frozen in eternal night.
Alex recoiled. "What is that?"
Lyra stared at it, face pale. "A timeline you abandoned."
Alex's chest tightened. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," Lyra said. "You never do."
The words hurt more than they should have.
Later—when Alex could barely stand—Lyra called an end to the session.
"That's enough for today," she said. "If you push further, the Core will burn you out."
Alex collapsed onto the edge of the platform, breathing hard. "You say that like it's happened before."
Lyra didn't answer.
That silence was answer enough.
That night—if such a concept existed here—Alex couldn't rest.
The training chamber was quiet, but the Core hummed restlessly within him. Every closed eye brought visions. Every breath carried echoes of other lives.
He stepped onto a viewing platform overlooking Zyphora Prime.
The city glowed softly, wounded but alive.
"You shouldn't be up," Lyra said from behind him.
Alex didn't turn. "You knew, didn't you? From the beginning."
Lyra joined him at the edge. "Knew what?"
"That I could do more than just destroy," he said. "That I could stabilize. Heal."
Lyra was silent.
"You let me believe I was only a threat," Alex continued. "Was that part of your mission too?"
Lyra's hands clenched at her sides.
"My mission," she said carefully, "was to ensure you never became what you were."
"And what was that?" Alex asked.
Lyra's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Someone who believed he alone should decide which universes deserved to exist."
Alex turned to face her. "Is that really who I was?"
Lyra met his gaze—and flinched.
"Yes," she said.
The word landed like a blow.
Alex looked away, swallowing hard. "Then why are you still here?"
Lyra stepped closer. "Because you're not him. Not yet."
Alex laughed bitterly. "That's comforting."
Lyra reached out, then stopped herself.
"There's something you need to know," she said.
Alex braced himself. "That usually means something bad."
Lyra activated a holographic interface. Symbols flooded the air between them—Zyphoran code layered with something darker.
"This came through while you were training," she said. "A classified transmission."
Alex scanned the symbols. He didn't understand them—but the Core did.
Meaning slammed into him.
His blood ran cold.
NULL KING DIRECTIVE:
CORE INTEGRATION IMMINENT
LYRA NOX — FINAL PROTOCOL AUTHORIZED
Alex looked up slowly. "Final protocol?"
Lyra closed her eyes.
"It means," she said, voice breaking, "if you begin to synchronize with too many universes… I'm ordered to stop you permanently."
Alex stared at her. "You already told me you'd kill me if I made the wrong choice."
"This is different," Lyra whispered. "This order comes from beyond the Zyphoran Collective."
"From the Null King," Alex said.
Lyra nodded.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Alex asked the question he'd been avoiding since the beginning.
"If the order comes," he said quietly, "will you do it?"
Lyra looked at him.
Really looked at him.
"I don't know," she said honestly.
That answer terrified him more than a lie would have.
Elsewhere.
In a realm where light went to die, the Void Empress stood before a mirror of fractured realities.
She watched Alex train.
Watched Lyra hesitate.
A slow smile curved her lips.
"The Core grows faster than expected," she murmured. "And the girl already doubts her leash."
A figure emerged from the shadows behind her—tall, mechanical, human in shape but empty of warmth.
"Shall we intervene?" it asked.
The Void Empress shook her head. "No. Let him grow."
She traced a finger across the mirror.
"Power is sweetest when it believes it's choosing freely."
Back on Zyphora Prime, alarms blared suddenly—sharp, urgent, wrong.
Lyra stiffened. "That's not local."
The chamber shook violently.
Alex felt it instantly—a massive disturbance ripping through multiple layers of reality at once.
"What is that?" he demanded.
Lyra's face drained of color.
"A forced breach," she said. "Someone just tore open a path through protected space."
A portal exploded open above the city.
Not like before.
This one was precise.
Controlled.
A figure stepped through.
Human.
Or close enough.
He wore a long coat, his eyes glowing with cold intelligence. Devices hummed beneath his skin.
Alex's heart sank.
"Who is that?" he whispered.
Lyra's voice was barely audible.
"Dr. Caelum," she said. "The man who taught humanity how to hunt gods."
Caelum smiled down at the city.
"And there you are," he said, eyes locking onto Alex through impossible distance. "Right on schedule."
The Core screamed.
Alex felt something else awaken inside him.
Fear.
Not his own.
Lyra grabbed Alex's arm. "We have to leave. Now."
Alex didn't move.
Because for the first time since this nightmare began, he felt something else beneath the terror.
Anger.
"No," Alex said quietly. "I'm done running."
Lyra stared at him in shock.
Caelum's smile widened.
"Oh," he said, voice echoing across the city. "This is going to be fun."
END OF CHAPTER 4
NEXT CHAPTER TEASE:
Alex faces his first human enemy… and learns the true cost of choosing to fight.