[1st POV]

  The Dyson Sphere didn’t reward survival. It punished it.

  Every twelve hours, the rotation burned the lowest pods alive. Screaming, melting, vanishing. Cells close to the solar core were slowly cooked, visibly. You could see the flicker of failing shields and You could hear the static-drowned screams when the plasma winds cracked through.

  Vael’s pod was three slots away from the Burn Zone.

  I stood in the reinforced observation corridor as Milo adjusted his goggles next to me, twirling a broken drone wing like a fidget toy.

  “You’d think they’d at least hand out sunscreen,” he muttered.

  “This is sick,” I said.

  “No, that guy’s sick.” He pointed to a prisoner nearby, licking his pod glass while whispering poetry to it. “Me? I’m just creatively unhinged.”

  I didn’t smile.

  “Can you reroute Vael’s pod?”

  “I could,” Milo said brightly. “But then the whole grid throws a tantrum. Whole Sphere might have a meltdown. And bonus fun fact: pod positions get shuffled every third cycle. Randomly.”

  I stared at him. “So… we can’t predict who burns next?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “Isn’t it just… beautiful?”

  Below us, the Arena lit up. Blinding white.

  A voice thundered:

  “MATCH: 5Z VS. 8G. FIGHT UNTIL DEACTIVATION.”

  Two inmates walked out. One mech-modded brute with fists like railguns. The other, a slender, dead eyed figure with wires woven into her spine.

  Within Fifteen seconds in, it stopped being a fight.

  I looked away immediately but Milo didn’t. “Good kill. Bad footwork.”

  That was how it worked. You win, you eat. You lose, you die.

  .

  .

  .

  After the matches ended, we were all herded like cattle into the central mess.

  The Cafeteria.

  It was floating mid-level. No guards. No drones. No cameras. Just prisoners with their Factions and Fear.

  Vael, Milo and I sat at a back table.

  Across from us, the Whisperers: cloaked, neural-jacked prisoners who didn’t blink.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  To our right, the Flesh Dealers: gene-mod freaks with too many limbs and no moral boundaries. One was eating something raw. It might’ve been liver and It might’ve been someone’s.

  My tray slid forward. Gray cubes. Paste. And an apple.

  But it was too red and too perfect.

  My system pinged.

  [WARNING: TOXIN DETECTED — NEURO CLASS AGENT]

  [POISON INDEX: 92% — LETHAL DOSE CONFIRMED]

  Seeing the notification pop up I froze.

  Before I could react, a blur slapped the apple off the tray. It rolled underfoot and crushed under someone’s boot with a soft splatter.

  “Try dying after the jailbreak,” said the soft voice beside me.

  She sat down like she belonged there.

  White hair, jagged like cut wire. Her robotic armor only covered her creamy breasts from slipping any second and the other half barely covered her thick thighs. Her eyes were glowing gold, her lips wet and pink. She rolled her eyes as I checked her out. She was beautiful. She was dangerous.

  “Name’s Xelara,” she said, popping her gum. “That pretty guy across the table? He eats spinal fluid for breakfast. Don’t trust his smile. Trust me, I dated him”

  The smiling man across the mess raised a hand in mock apology.

  Xelara stood, walked over, and drove a blade through it.

  No hesitation.

  But the man didn’t scream, instead he laughed.

  Xelara pulled the bloodied blade free, walked back, and sat down like she hadn’t just stabbed someone.

  My system buzzed with excitement.

  [NEW ALLY ACQUIRED: XELARA]

  [CLASS: ASSASSIN | STATUS: ESCAPED CONVICT | TRUST LEVEL: 3/10]

  [PASSIVE UNLOCKED: POISON RESISTANCE +10%]

  “You always introduce yourself like that?” I asked.

  “I like your face. And your odds,” she said, chewing on a nutrient bar. “You’re either gonna escape this hellhole or die trying. Either way, I wanna watch.”

  Vael looked at me. “You told her?”

  “She figured it out.”

  Milo slurped from his tin helmet. “She’s killed fourteen people here. One during transport. She is efficient.”

  Xelara winked. “Fifteen.”

  And everyone went back to eating, like nothing had happened. Except me. I didn’t trust anyone with glowing eyes and a flirtation with death. I was deep in my thoughts when a meek voice broke me from them.

  "Umm...Guyss.", She said slowly as we all looked up towards her, causing her to cover behind her tray a little.

  She was small with brown skin and A single star tattoo beneath her eye, they were wide and terrified as she took us all in. She clutched her tray tightly like it was a shield. “I heard you,” she said. “I used to work in the Dyson AI core. You’ll need me.”

  My system scanned her.

  [POTENTIAL ALLY — STATUS UNKNOWN]

  [SKILLSET: ENGINEERING / NEURAL INTERFACE]

  Xelara’s blade twitched. “Or she’s a plant.”

  “She’s not,” Milo said. “Pulse scan: elevated. Heart rate: terrified. Also.....moderate constipation.”

  She went red. “You didn’t have to say that out loud.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I leaned forward. “Name?”

  “Aliah. They erased my number.”

  “We’ll test her,” Xelara said. “Arena trial.”

  “Tonight we eat. Tomorrow we move,” I said.

  Vael nodded. Milo raised his drink. Xelara popped her gum.

  Aliah just held onto her tray. But her eyes? They were burning.

  That night, the system woke me up but it wasn’t code.

  It was language. Ancient. Familiar. Wrong.

  [#10004...YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST TO HEAR ME. BUT YOU MAY BE THE LAST.]

  I sat up, Frozen from the notification,

  Then the code distorted immediately and a vision hit me like lightning.

  A burning fleet. The Council’s banners in flames. A blade made of crystal. A whisper:

  “OBLIVION PROTOCOL.”

  “AWAKEN THE SHARD BEARER.”