The morning came too soon.

  Bash woke stiff and sore, the phantom weight of yesterday’s fights lingering like bruises under the skin.

  Across the dorm, Rixor stretched, vertebrae popping like gunfire.

  “Every time we come back, I swear this Ark makes the beds harder,” he muttered.

  Taren crossed the room, her hand already glowing faintly as she pressed it against his chest. “You’re

  fine,” she said after a second. “No internal damage. Not even a bruise left.”

  Rixor grunted. “I know. Just feels like I got trampled by an angry moon.”

  Nyra rolled out of bed, hair still a mess, pulling her rifle from its stand. “Then walk it off. We’ve got

  another day of getting punched by the universe.”

  Bash smirked faintly while tightening the strap on his gauntlet. “She’s not wrong. Let’s move.”

  The cafeteria buzzed softly when they arrived, the low murmur of other squads trading reports over

  steaming rations. Calen, Liora, and Darik were already there, halfway through breakfast.

  “Morning, survivors,” Liora greeted. “How’s the hammer magnet?”

  Rixor waved her off with a piece of bread. “Still better than your aim.”

  She scoffed, “Says the guy who body-blocks fireballs.”

  They all laughed, faintly, the kind that came from habit more than humor. Then Bash spoke:

  “Portal 213.”

  The laughter faded. Everyone nodded.

  They did their checks, weapons charged, armor seals tight, ammo counts verified. Then, in silence, they

  walked the familiar route to the portal bays.

  The white vortex swallowed them whole.

  The world that waited beyond wasn’t dead, just drained.

  Color was gone. Not muted, not faded. Gone.

  White. Gray. Shadow.

  They stood in silence for a long moment, boots crunching on dust that looked like powdered marble.

  The air felt weightless, as if the world had been hollowed out. Every exhale echoed faintly, like they

  were breathing inside a cavern made of glass.

  The fog here wasn’t ordinary. It clung to them, stretching thin threads that curled and broke when they

  moved, static whispers, faint and dry. Even the light had no source; it just existed, soft and

  directionless, erasing depth until horizon and sky were one continuous sheet of ash.

  Rixor turned in a slow circle, hammer balanced over his shoulder. “What in the hell…”

  Nyra’s voice was low. “We’re the only things with color.”

  She was right. Their armor, weapons, even their skin, sharp strokes of life against a colorless world.

  The sight was wrong, almost nauseating. Bash could feel the dissonance buzzing faintly in his head, a

  sense that reality itself was off by a fraction.

  “Keep moving,” he said quietly. “We don’t stand still in a place like this.”

  They walked, their reflections flickering in patches of fractured crystal embedded in the ground.

  Sometimes the reflections lagged behind their movements, a heartbeat slow, like the world hadn’t fully

  decided what was real.

  Taren adjusted her wrist display. “I’m not picking up any ambient resonance. None. Even the baseline

  essence field is null.”

  “Can’t be null,” Bash said, pulling up the map. “Something’s here.”

  The display flickered once, static crawling across the translucent surface. For a long moment, it showed

  nothing, just interference, a pale gray haze. Then, slowly, a single mark pulsed into view near the center

  of the projection.

  One point. Faint. Unmoving.

  It shimmered weakly, its hue shifting between dull gold and washed-out blue, more like a residual echo

  than a signal.

  “That’s it?” Calen asked, leaning closer. “One reading?”

  “Just one,” Bash confirmed. “Static, not active. Probably recorded from a previous team’s data set.”

  “So no way to tell what it is?” Nyra said.

  “None,” Bash replied. “Could be a beast. Could be an old beacon. Could be nothing.”

  Rixor grunted. “If it was nothing, it wouldn’t still be showing.”

  Bash gave a faint nod, closing the projection. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

  He looked out toward the endless white horizon. The air shimmered faintly, the ground a maze of

  cracked marble and mirrored stone reflecting distorted fragments of themselves.

  “Three klicks ahead,” he said. “Straight line.”

  They continued to move, boots crunching softly on the colorless dust. The silence pressed closer with

  every step.

  They advanced slowly, boots crunching through the thin layer of white dust. Every sound carried too

  far. The terrain rolled out in smooth, fractured plains, marble-like stone split by jagged cracks that ran

  in all directions.

  Calen muttered, “This place feels wrong.”

  “It is,” Taren said. “There’s no baseline resonance field. It’s like walking through a corpse.”

  Nyra’s voice came soft behind them. “Then what’s keeping that one thing alive?”

  No one answered.

  As they moved closer, the fog began to pulse faintly with light, rhythmic, distant, like lightning behind

  clouds. The beacon signal on Bash’s watch display grew stronger, but still erratic. Every few seconds, it

  split into two or three faint copies, then rejoined again.

  “Distortion?” Liora asked.

  “Maybe,” Bash said, eyes narrowing. “Or it’s moving fast enough to break the scan.”

  The ground trembled once, just barely enough to shift the dust around their boots.

  Then again, stronger.

  Calen raised his bow instinctively. “That wasn’t distortion.”

  “No,” Bash said, lowering his center of gravity. “That’s movement.”

  The light in the fog ahead flashed once, a deep, golden flare that illuminated broken shapes and

  shadows locked in motion.

  And then the sound reached them, the overlapping roars and shrieks of something massive, fighting for

  dominance just beyond the veil of haze.

  Bash glanced toward the team. “That’s our beacon.”

  Nyra’s expression tightened. “It’s not one thing.”

  “No,” Bash said, drawing his knives. “It’s a battle.”

  They didn’t have to go far before the ground began to really tremble. The air ahead flickered with

  flashes of essence discharge, red, blue, violet, until the terrain opened into a basin scarred by endless

  combat.

  Dozens of species clashed. Swarms, packs, and solitary beasts collided in a chaotic storm. Light flared

  like sheet lightning through the fog, the rhythm of slaughter steady as a heartbeat.

  “Detected multi-faction conflict,” S-C said in Bash’s head, calm and exact.

  “Likely territorial. Combatants range Tier 1 Advanced through Tier 2 Greater.”

  “Meaning it’s bad,” Bash muttered.

  “Meaning it’s complicated,” S-C corrected.

  He scanned the field. Two primary hives dominated, one pulsing with kinetic energy, bodies darting at

  blinding speed; the other radiating white-green healing fields that stitched the first swarm back together

  after every blow. Further across, he saw streaks of molten orange and green, Fire and Thorns, and

  beyond that, a faintly transparent coil hovering above the battlefield, invisible except for the way the

  fog warped around it.

  S-C’s tone sharpened.

  “Essence signatures detected: Soul Rend and Alchemy confirmed. Secondary presence, Durability and

  Fire-class individuals. Threat density high.”

  Bash exhaled. “So, everyone dangerous, everyone angry.”

  Rixor cracked his neck. “My kind of crowd.”

  They advanced until the fog curled back to reveal the nearest swarm, the speed hive, thin, four-legged

  creatures with glistening hides and bladed forelimbs. The healing hive pulsed just behind them,

  funneling radiant energy through their bodies.

  “Contact,” Bash said quietly.

  The swarm saw them.

  In an instant, the world turned to motion.

  The speed beasts blurred, phasing through the mist with sonic cracks. Bash barely dodged one before

  another slammed into his side, armor sparking as it skidded him across the stone.

  Taren’s pistols barked light, two sharp bursts of white that connected with one of the beasts. Her

  healing field rippled outward, washing faint strength through the group, but only when the rounds

  found a mark. When they missed, nothing came.

  “Keep your shots steady!” Bash shouted.

  Rixor slammed his hammer down, electricity flaring in arcs that scattered the front line. “Got your

  attention now!” he roared, hammer dragging a lightning trail through the ground.

  Calen’s arrows flew in overlapping arcs, slicing wind currents that tore open weak points. Liora and

  Darik kept walls of mineral up between the clusters, forcing the beasts to bottleneck. Nyra knelt behind

  cover, alternating between fire and DoT-infused shots that painted the air with streaks of orange and

  green.

  The battlefield was alive with chaos.

  Speed-types blurred through the haze like streaks of motion, claws flashing, limbs bending at angles

  too sharp for sight. Heal-types wove among them, veins glowing, spreading waves of restorative light

  through the pack.

  The team met them head-on.

  Rixor took point, hammer swinging wide, every impact releasing a pulse that shook the stone beneath

  their feet. Each strike left a crater, arcs of blue energy leaping between the fragments. Darik and Liora

  raised mineral walls around him, jagged shields to redirect the charging beasts. The air filled with the

  sound of claws on stone, gunfire, and the echoing hum of charged essence.

  Taren fired both pistols in controlled bursts, every round glowing faintly as it cut through the fog. The

  shots that struck true lit up the team in thin waves of light, closing cuts, but too many went wide.

  “Keep still!” she shouted over the roar, frustration sharp in her voice. “I can’t heal when I can’t hit!”

  “Then hit something else!” Rixor roared back, catching a speed-type mid-sprint with a hammer blow

  that liquefied its torso.

  Bash was already in motion beside him, knives flashing. Razorvein sang as it bit through a beast’s

  neck, the random echoes carving deeper before the body even fell. The impact hit his chest like a

  heartbeat out of sync, a pulse, sharp and fleeting.

  S-C’s voice followed instantly.

  “Speed resonance absorbed. Tier Two Common.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” Bash muttered, already moving toward another.

  The battlefield shifted constantly, fog rolling, ground trembling. Each team member carved their own

  rhythm in the chaos. Calen’s arrows sliced through the haze in rapid succession, wind currents

  exploding from every shot. Nyra’s rifle barked fire and poison alternately, cutting down the healers as

  they tried to rally.

  Liora’s sword flared with mineral and flame both, slashing in molten arcs. Every swing turned the air to

  glass for a heartbeat.

  And still, the beasts kept coming.

  The healers glowed bright again, pouring vitality into their kin, reforming their lines faster than the

  team could break them.

  “Drop the healers first!” Bash shouted, voice cutting through the din.

  Nyra didn’t need to be told twice. Her scope flashed red. The first shot took a healer in the throat, the

  second detonated against its core, collapsing half the swarm’s recovery chain.

  The moment it fell, a wave hit Bash, heavy and warm, like water rolling through his chest. Another

  followed almost immediately, then two more. His knees buckled for half a second before he caught

  himself.

  S-C’s tone sharpened.

  “Healing resonance absorbed. Additional signatures detected. Unidentified cross field intake.”

  “What?” he hissed.

  “Essence influx from peripheral engagements. You are within proximity range of external combatants.”

  Bash parried a charging beast, spun, and threw a knife into its chest. “Proximity?”

  “I’ve been narrowing the exact distance, but estimation, one hundred to two hundred meters. You are

  absorbing essence from nearby kill events.”

  He turned his head, scanning the mist beyond their fight, and froze.

  All around them, shadows clashed in the distance. Packs, hives, and lone beasts tearing into one

  another, thousands of them locked in their own battles across the broken landscape.

  “So you’re telling me…” Bash said, ducking as a claw scraped past his helmet, “this entire field, every

  single kill out there could be feeding into me?”

  “Yes,” S-C confirmed.

  A pulse slammed into him mid-sentence, he hissed.

  “Confirmed. Fire resonance.”

  Bash straightened, eyes narrowing. “This is going to be a painful battle.”

  A moment later, Rixor grunted. “What the hell, did anyone else feel that?”

  Bash said, his tone clipped. “You’re catching essence from every fight within range.”

  Taren ducked under a lunging beast, her pistols blazing. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning,” Bash said, slashing another beast across the throat, “we’re standing in the middle of an

  essence feeding storm and I hope you’re hungry.”

  Another surge rolled through theme, like a vibration through their bones.

  S-C’s report echoed in Bash’s mind, crisp and exact.

  “Current essence influx: Healing, Speed, Durability, Fire, and Lightning detected. Density increasing.”

  “Fantastic,” Bash muttered, throwing a blade into the fog. “We’ve got the whole damn spectrum in

  play.”

  Rixor’s hammer struck the ground, releasing a shockwave of lightning that rippled through the nearest

  pack. “Then let’s make it count!”

  Speed-types dove through the haze, their movement turning the explosions into streaks of pressure and

  flame.

  Every second, pulses hammered through Bash, speed, fire, lightning, healing, durability, too many to

  track.

  S-C’s voice sounded distant now, almost like static.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Total essence intake exceeds prior records.”

  “Just hold it together,” Bash muttered through gritted teeth. “We’ll end it before it ends us.”

  Then the ground itself began to tremble.

  He caught Rixor’s eye through the haze.

  The big man smirked, hefting his hammer. “Good. I was starting to get bored.”

  Through the thinning haze came a pack of hounds, lean, smoke-gray, their jaws dripping glowing

  vapor. Yellow veins pulsed along their bodies like molten threads.

  S-C’s voice slid into Bash’s thoughts, calm and analytical.

  “Sulflare Jackals. Alchemy classification. Fume composition volatile, highly reactive to essence

  ignition.”

  Bash’s jaw tightened. “Sulflare Jackals,” he repeated aloud. “Alchemy class. Their breath’s basically

  explosive gas, one wrong spark and they’ll blow the whole place.”

  Rixor spat, gripping his hammer tighter. “They breathe explosives. Perfect.”

  Nyra muttered, “Guess we’ll try not to miss, then.”

  The jackals fanned out, encircling both teams, theirs and what remained of the hive the were fighting.

  Every breath they took left a trail of sulfuric gas that shimmered under the dim light.

  One of the wounded speed beasts staggered through the haze, and the world erupted.

  A blast of fire ripped through the basin, a chain reaction that cascaded outward. The shockwave hit

  hard, hurling the front line backward. Bash rolled to his feet, coughing through black smoke.

  “Everyone intact?”

  “Barely!” Calen shouted, half buried under a slab of stone.

  Taren sprinted through debris, grabbing his arm, healing light flashing from her hand. “Get up, archer!

  We’re not done!”

  Another explosion went off nearby, sending a wave of searing heat through the air.

  S-C spoke again, more urgent.

  “Local resonance depletion detected. Energy drains consistent with Soul Rend proximity.”

  “So we’re going to be getting weaker because something’s feeding,” Bash muttered. “Perfect.”

  And then they saw it.

  The fog darkened, rippling like liquid as the Lament Coil descended. A serpent made of translucent

  blue energy, faint veins of light running along its body. It didn’t move so much as glide, warping the air

  around it. Wherever it passed, the fallen beasts below withered into husks.

  Soul Rend confirmed,” S-C said in his mind.

  “Tier Two Greater. Its resonance feeds on emotional amplitude. Maintain calm or risk accelerated

  drain.”

  Bash’s eyes flicked toward the serpent’s faint shimmer in the fog. “It’s Soul Rend,” he said aloud, voice

  steady. “Tier Two Greater. Don’t let it get a read on you, stay calm or it’ll pull harder.”

  Rixor barked a humorless laugh, tightening his grip on the hammer. “Calm? Yeah, sure. Totally calm.”

  The faint ripple of energy that followed felt like the serpent laughing back.

  The serpent’s featureless head turned toward them. The temperature dropped instantly.

  Behind it, the Sulflare Jackals crouched low, fumes thickening the air until visibility dropped to ten

  meters. A flicker of yellow light rolled through the fog, the spark of ignition waiting to happen.

  Bash felt his pulse match the rhythm of the serpent’s glow.

  “S-C?”

  “It’s watching. Measuring. Suggest preemptive engagement.”

  He nodded. “Everyone ready?”

  Weapons clicked, hammers hummed, bows drew tight.

  The serpent coiled tighter, tail lifting like a whip. The jackals snarled in unison.

  For one suspended moment, everything was silent.

  Then the world exploded.

  The first wave of jackals came like lightning. They bounded across the plain, jaws wide, sulfuric vapor

  igniting where their claws struck stone. Rixor intercepted them head-on, his hammer colliding with the

  lead hound in a burst of electric fire. The shock stunned three more behind it, but the next leapt clear

  through the smoke, slamming into his side.

  He roared, throwing it off, armor sparking with residual lightning. “You bite, you burn!” He swung

  again, arcs of electricity catching on the sulfur mist, setting it ablaze.

  Firestorms erupted across the field.

  Taren tried to keep up, her pistols barking luminous rounds. Every hit restored a flicker of strength, but

  the number of targets made it impossible to keep everyone topped off. She missed one shot, and the gap

  cost her. A jackal lunged through the smoke, claws raking her arm before Liora split it apart with a

  molten blade.

  “Stay tight!” Bash shouted, parrying another lunging beast with a knife and counter-stabbing through

  its neck. Razorvein activated, a deep vibration in the air as the wound shredded deeper, dropping the

  creature instantly.

  But every time they cleared space, the Lament Coil slid closer. It didn’t strike like a predator, it drifted

  until it was among them, then coiled suddenly around Rixor.

  “Get it off!” he shouted, choking, his hammer flaring with wild lightning.

  Bash ran forward, slashing, his blades cutting through mist and energy alike. Every strike met

  resistance like water, and every hit weakened his limbs, draining something unseen.

  S-C’s voice cut through the haze.

  “Soul Rend conversion active. Emotional output increasing drain rate. You must disengage.”

  “Working on it!”

  Nyra fired from range, every bullet lined with fire and poison. The rounds tore through the serpent’s

  semi-corporeal flesh, bursts of green and orange igniting along its length.

  The Lament Coil shrieked, not from its throat but directly in their minds.

  Bash staggered, vision spinning. Memories surfaced, his father’s voice, his world burning, but he

  shoved them back down, teeth gritted.

  He hurled a knife, then another. The relic pulsed in answer, two echo strikes hitting the same wound in

  rapid sequence. The serpent convulsed, its coils loosening just long enough for Rixor to wrench free.

  “Now!” Bash roared.

  Rixor brought the hammer down like thunder. The impact shattered the serpent’s form into waves of

  blue light that scattered through the fog.

  In the distance the remaining Sulflare Jackals howled in fury, rushing from the heart of the main battle

  field, dodging through thousands of beast, to defend their fallen ally, but their surrounding were already

  thick with volatile gas.

  Nyra steadied her breath, lined her shot, and fired once.

  The round streaked through the haze. A half-second later, the world went white.

  The explosion tore through the plains in a rolling bloom of heat and sound. Fire roared skyward, stone

  split under the force, and a wall of dust swept over them. Every sense drowned in the fury of it.

  Then came the stillness.

  Smoke drifted across the broken plains, curling through the remains. The Jackals lay in scorched heaps,

  their glowing veins guttering out one by one. The last flicker of the serpent shimmered faintly, a

  translucent blue coil pulsing once, twice, then collapsing into nothing.

  Bash drew in a ragged breath. The air tasted like copper and dirt.

  “Remaining hostile activity: none,” S-C said quietly in his mind.

  “Residual essence concentration: extreme. Central field origin. Brace yourself.”

  Bash’s eyes went wide. He didn’t even have time to ask before it hit him.

  A cascade of pulses slammed into his chest, one after another, overlapping, colliding.

  His knees buckled. “S-C, what...”

  “Multiple essence streams converging,” she said rapidly. “Soul Rend and Alchemy signatures included.

  You are within the residual convergence radius. Absorption at critical threshold. Hold steady, let your

  resonance stabilize naturally.”

  He forced air into his lungs, teeth clenched. “Easier said than done.”

  The pulses slowed, tapering into smaller surges, each one dimmer than the last. When it finally

  stopped, the silence felt deeper than before.

  His armor hummed faintly, still glowing along the seams. Steam hissed from the cracks in the ground

  where molten residue cooled.

  “Assimilation complete,” S-C murmured in his mind, voice faint but steady.

  “Essence influx recorded, one Tier Two Greater Soul Rend, forty-three Tier Two Common Alchemy,

  seven-hundred sixty-three Tier One Advanced Lightning, four-hundred eighty-one Tier Two Common

  Healing, seven-hundred thirteen Tier One Advanced Fire, one-thousand one-hundred thirty-eight Tier

  Two Common Speed, and three-hundred sixteen Tier Two Common Durability.

  No unlock detected.”

  While Bash was being bombarded by the surge of pulses, the rest of the team felt it too.

  Rixor staggered, struggling to stay upright as the pulses ran through him. Taren gasped, one hand

  pressed to her chest, her breath sharp and uneven. Nyra and Liora both hit their knees. For a few

  seconds, no one moved. The fog rolled quietly around them, carrying the fading echo of the pulses until

  at last, the world stilled.

  Then the pulses stopped.

  Bash exhaled, the pain fading to a dull thrum under his ribs.

  The others eventually moved towards bash, still cautious, unaware of the storm that had just torn

  through him as well.

  He straightened, voice steady again. “Field’s clear. Gather what’s left and check for fragments.”

  They moved slowly through the smoke. The bodies of the Sulflare Jackals were already dissolving,

  leaving behind faintly glowing fangs, crystalline, yellow, still warm. Bash knelt, picked one up.

  “Beast fragments,” Bash said quietly.

  The others stirred at the words, still shaky but moving with purpose. They fanned out across the

  fractured ground, gathering what remained of the fallen. The fog glowed faintly where beast fragments

  were were buried, crystalline fangs, fractured cores, and scales still pulsing with residual resonance.

  No one spoke as they worked. The only sounds were the soft chime of fragments dropping into

  reinforced cases and the hiss of the cooling ground beneath their boots.

  By the time the last shard was sealed away, the count stood at 6,167 total, 3,304 Tier One Advanced,

  2,863 Tier Two Common, and one faintly shimmering Tier Two Greater scale taken from the serpent

  itself. Its surface still pulsed faintly, rhythm matching a heartbeat before finally dimming.

  Bash looked over the ruined basin.

  He turned to the others. “That’s done.”

  The team gathered close, breath steaming in the cold monochrome air. Without another word, they

  turned and began the slow walk back toward the portal.

  The return to the Ark was silent.

  They stepped through the gate one by one, the disorientation fading almost instantly. No victory cheers,

  no talk, just quiet footsteps and the dull hum of the Nexus chamber waiting for them.

  They went through the motions automatically: hand over the fragments, list the encounters, record the

  vitals. When instructed, each member linked into the Nexus for the mandatory memory

  synchronization.

  As the pulses of data filtered through Bash’s mind, S-C muted everything, the resonance echoes, the

  chaotic surge of essence, even the fragments of memory from the relic. The Council would see only a

  clean record of battle summaries and fragment counts, nothing more.

  When it was done, the Council clerks processed the totals, took their 25% share, and distributed the

  rest. Each member received 354 Tier One Advanced and 306 Tier Two Common beast fragments.

  No one spoke through the entire procedure.

  They eventually found themselves in the cafeteria, tired, silent, still processing. Metal trays clattered

  faintly as they sat down. The exhaustion on their faces said everything words couldn’t.

  Rixor was the first to break the quiet. “Does anyone want to talk about what just happened?”

  The group glanced up.

  He gestured loosely toward them all. “Let me get this straight. We go into a world with no color, find a

  battlefield of thousands of beasts, jump right in like idiots, an hour later Nyra blows up a bunch of dogs

  that breathe explosives, the whole world goes up in fire, and somehow we walk away with enough

  fragments to make a Council accountant faint.”

  Nyra smirked. “You’re welcome.”

  Rixor leaned back, rubbing his temples. “We left and came back in under three hours… and we’re all

  still alive. Has anyone ever been that lucky?”

  The group burst into laughter, raw, relieved, almost manic. Even Taren laughed until she had to cover

  her mouth, shaking her head.

  Rixor grinned despite himself. “You all realize how bad that could’ve gone, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Bash said. “Which is why I don’t want to think about it.”

  The laughter faded to quiet chuckles, the room settling into a comfortable silence.

  Later, when the others had gone quiet, Bash leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed.

  You said we only need to travel to one more world to find the Space, Gravity, and Time beasts, right?

  “Yes,” S-C replied within his mind, her tone even. “But this one will be different. More unstable. More

  dangerous. You may encounter phenomena that defy standard resonance logic.”

  “After what we just saw,” he muttered, “that’s saying something.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Just tell me the portal number.”

  “Portal zero-zero-three.”

  Bash opened his eyes, looking at the others. “Tomorrow, we hit portal three.”

  Taren was still moving among them, quietly healing the last of the burns and cuts, her light soft and

  steady. One by one, the team finished eating and stood to leave.

  They said little as they walked back to the dorms, only the sound of boots against metal, exhaustion

  heavy in every step.

  The doors closed behind them, and silence filled the hall once more.