Locke moved silently through the maze of tunnels beneath the ruins of Epsilon VI. The air was damp, the walls slick with condensation. Every step echoed faintly despite his efforts. For months he’d been operating on his own, hitting Nexus installations and dodging Revenant patrols. This time was different—he wasn’t alone.

  A familiar voice spoke through his earpiece. “Still playing gun for hire, Locke?”

  His face darkened as he recognized the voice—Big D.

  “What do you want?” Locke whispered, clenching his jaw.

  “I'm just keepin' an eye on things,” Big D said.

  Locke narrowed his eyes. “Like that time back on Shadow's Edge?“

  He could hear Big D laughing through his earpiece, grating against his nerves.

  “You know the game. The agency hired you to do all the shooting.“

  Big D's tone became more serious.

  “There's someone else creeping around. Someone who knows the Nexus better than anyone,” he said. “They're not on your side, Locke.“

  Locke paused, the sound of Revenants resonated inside of the tunnels as they patrolled the stone tomb.

  "If there's something else out there, why don’t you give me a little more to go on, D?" he muttered into his earpiece.

  “You’ll know them when you see them. I can tell you that they're Nexus, through and through,” he said.

  Locke continued moving, the sound of water running off his boots with every step.

  “If you’re trying to spook me, it’s not working,” Locke replied through gritted teeth.

  “Suit yourself,” Big D said. “If I were you, I’d check the old command center. That’s where I’d set up shop if I wanted to watch this all go down.”

  “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Locke said.

  “I thought you might like the challenge,” Big D said, letting a chuckle slip. “Whatever’s waiting for you up there, it doesn't just want you gone—it wants you dead.”

  Locke turned off his comms. He might finally find a target that will hurt the Nexus. As he reached the upper levels of the tunnels, he ran into Revenant fortifications. The tunnel walls were painted with the green hue of their optical sensors.

  He armed an EMP device, rubbing his fingers across the worn edges.

  “It's you and me again,” he whispered to it. “Time to do what you do best.“

  He tossed it down the corridor.

  It hissed softly as it rolled toward it's target. There was a moment of silence, then the Revenant systems just flickered and shut down. Locke took the opportunity to slip into the command center. An access hatch was just past the disabled Revenants.

  Once inside, he saw images of Arkadia displayed on the monitors. He looked around the room until he caught a glimpse of a pale woman.

  “So, you’re the one D warned me about,” Locke said.

  “Name's Valis,” she said, smiling. “You have no idea what you're stepping into.“

  Locke's brow furrowed as he raised his rifle.

  “Why don't you tell me?“ He asked with a slight smirk.

  “I would love to,” Valis said, slowly moving her hand. “I just have better things to do.“

  She quickly drew her sidearm while leaping behind cover—both exchanging shots.

  Locke continued firing at the console she was taking cover behind—closing the gap in a few quick strides. Sparks and fragments of metal erupted from its surface with every shot.

  As he made it only a couple steps away from her, his ammo counter turned red.

  “Shit,” he muttered, releasing the magazine.

  She jumped up—he tackled her before she could train her pistol on him.

  They fought over it, Locke snatching it from her hand.

  She slammed a piece of concrete into the side of his head with a hard crack. Locke staggered as she bolted for the exit.

  He stumbled back onto his feet and sighed, blood running down his face.

  “That's why you shoot first,” he muttered to himself, looking at the large gash in his reflection.

  He started investigating the room, looking for useful intel. The only thing he could find were the images of a facility on Arkadia, a Core world wrapped in dense forests. He saved the coordinates into his nav unit and quietly climbed back down into the tunnels.

  Whatever was waiting on Arkadia, he’d make sure it hurt the Nexus.

  >>>>>***********************<<<<<

  Within a dimly lit room in a Loyalist base on Haven's Reach, the coalition gathered.

  Thalor had declared an emergency meeting.

  He sat at the head of the table. His gaze swept across the council, taking a mental note of his fellow conspirators—the ones who had finally seen reason.

  “Look at what’s happening out there,” he said. “Targus is under siege, and the Nexus is tearing itself apart. The situation is spiraling out of control.“

  Across from him sat commander Serris.

  He was known for his ruthlessness on the battlefield, but he has never had strong loyalties to anybody.

  “You’re right,” Serris said. “Her fight has only made things worse. But, what if she wins?“

  Thalor closed the intelligence report in front of him, looking between the council members.

  “What if she wins?” he repeated, his voice a growl. “This war has never been about the Nexus. It has been about her. She fights to dominate and we are next.“

  Captain Arros shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His fingers drummed against the table as his leg bounced restlessly beneath it. His eyes shifted between council members, searching for doubt to feel secure in his own.

  “She has already told us she doesn't want to rule,” he said, his voice low. “Now you're suggesting we go to war with her?“

  “It’s about survival,” Thalor said. “We can't risk trading one Tyrant for another. If there still is a Tyrant, anyways.“

  Arros looked down at his hands, hesitating a moment before responding.

  “But why?“ He asked, his voice low. “Why take the risk? We can barely protect ourselves.“

  Coran leaned forward, locking his eyes onto Arros.

  “That's why we need to do this soon,” he replied, his voice tense. “We need to strongly consider deploying our forces before she has a chance to recover.“

  Thalor leaned back in his chair, smirking.

  “From the shitshow we have seen over Targus, I doubt that's going to happen,” he said, his smirk deepening. “Without support from the coalition, she will have a hard time replacing guns and bodies.“

  Serris exhaled, running a hand over his jaw.

  “Aetherveil’s time is coming to an end,” he muttered.

  “What about Castle?“ Arros asked.

  Silence.

  “You knew he wouldn't be on board with this,” he muttered. “That's why he's not here, right? You didn't tell him about it?“

  Coran smiled. “We asked Castle to lead the defenses on Targus,” he said. “Based on the intelligence reports, there is no way he survives.“

  Arros felt the blood drain from his face. His fingers curled against the table.

  “He’s just another obstacle to them.“

  Thalor watched him carefully.

  “I thought maybe you’d understand,” he said. “You’re staying here until it’s over.”

  Arros tensed as Coran pushed himself up from his chair.

  “I’m heading back to Val ‘Dara with Serris,” Coran announced.

  Thalor lifted a hand. The guards at the entrance straightened.

  “We don’t want to kill you, Arros,” Thalor said. “But we can’t let you leave.”

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  The guards stepped forward, forming a barrier between him and the exit.

  Arros rose slowly, making his way toward them.

  “Move,” he ordered.

  The guards didn't flinch. One of them shoved him back.

  He barely stumbled, his feet planting firmly against the cold floor. His eyes burned as they snapped back to Thalor.

  “You can’t keep me here,” he said.

  Thalor smirked.

  “That—,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “—seems to be exactly what I’m doing.”

  “Just sit back down and wait it out,” Coran said. “It's something you're familiar with.“

  Arros turned back to the guards.

  Two men. Two rifles. Too close.

  His eyes glanced back to Thalor.

  Smug. Amused. Like he already knew how this would end.

  There was no way out.

  Arros exhaled, feeling his heartbeat slow.

  “I can't give up. Not this time.“

  The pistol cleared its holster in a single motion.

  Two sharp cracks rang through the room.

  Both guards collapsed before they could even raise their weapons.

  Arros burst through the doors as alarms blared to life.

  Heavy boots pounded behind him. More guards—dozens of them. He had seconds before the halls flooded with reinforcements.

  He sprinted toward the hangar. The bay doors loomed ahead, and beyond them, his shuttle.

  His marines were already waiting. The moment they saw him, they raised their weapons, locking their sights on the approaching guards.

  The guards hesitated. They weren’t equipped for a standoff with disciplined soldiers.

  Arros reached the ramp of his shuttle, turning back just long enough to meet Thalor’s gaze—standing at the edge of the hangar, his smirk finally gone.

  “Good luck fighting a war without a fleet,” he said as the ramp sealed shut.

  >>>>>***********************<<<<<

  The Tyrant's laughter echoed throughout the chamber as Aetherveil stood before him. The modules attached to its decaying flesh glinted in the dim light.

  Her stomach turned at what she saw—a man, a machine, a digital construct. The skin barely attached to the metallic skeletal frame underneath. Its eyes glowed dimly, deeply recessed into its head. The smell of burning flesh filled the room—the enormous amount of energy powering its form.

  Thick formations of ice built up on the bulkheads, but the cables running to its body from the core were bone dry. She turned her head, choking on the bile rising in her throat. She couldn't bear the sight of its grotesque amalgomation of flesh and cables.

  She forced herself to look at it again, clenching her jaw.

  “What are you?“ she asked, her voice strained as she held her breath.

  It jerked its head toward her—eyes glowing brighter.

  “I am the personality core. You call me the 'Tyrant',” it responded.

  Aetherveil's breath hitched. She swallowed and drew in another breath, ignoring the burning in her throat.

  “Personality?“ she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Who? Some galactic oppressor?“

  “All of yours,” its distorted voice roared.

  Aetherveil covered her ears, its voice piercing into her like a hot poker.

  “I was created by the Nexus to analyze and interpret your emotions,” it continued, its voice dropping to a lower tone.

  Aetherveil grabbed at her head, the neural interface began feeding into her brain.

  She was inside of the Nexus. Players were scattered all over the construct, living out their virtual lives. The Tyrant spoke, its voice coming from every direction.

  “As the Nexus learned and adapted, it realized a need to understand emotions. It created me to identify what drove the strongest reactions in its users.“

  The construct transformed again, the cities fracturing and reforming. Aetherveil stumbled onto a battlefield.

  Players turned on one another—fighting for dominance over each other's crumbling constructs. Weapons flashed and buildings collapsed, feeding a storm of chaotic data.

  “I learned what you valued.“

  The world shattered like glass, forming into a storm of pixels. Aetherveil found herself back aboard the Tyrant's ship—standing closer to her. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

  “You're wrong!“ she shouted, her voice trembling. “It was just fantasy! Nothing in the Nexus was real!“

  “You've never felt more alive, more purposeful, than you do now, Aetherveil,” It replied, its disgusting face forming a smile.

  “Not as alive as I'll feel when you're dead,” she said.

  Aetherveil swung her sword toward the Tyrant's head. It froze. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't drive it into its head. She felt him creeping back into her mind.

  She stood in a bright room. She could see herself being operated on by those colorless beings. She slowly walked up to herself on the table.

  Her breath hitched. She covered her mouth with her hands, tears pooling in her eyes. Her past self, strapped to the table, rolled her eyes around the room helpless and terrified.

  “What is this?“ she screamed, looking up toward the blinding lights. “Why are you showing me this?“ her voice cracking.

  “You call yourself a protector, but that was never your design,” the Tyrant’s voice echoed. “You were forged to cut, not to shield. A tool. One of countless others. Tools, Aetherveil, are never asked if they wish to be wielded.”

  Everything went black. A rush of wind surged past her—a small image zooming quickly until she found herself standing among an army. The quantum gateways were in view, shimmering with power.

  “The Architects built gateways to discover, and access, other dimensions,” the Tyrant said, its voice carving into Aetherveil's mind. “They were not welcome.“

  The gateways erupted with bright light, quickly blocked by a horde of dark creatures. Their guttural growls echoed across the battlefield as the ground rumbled beneath their impossibly fast charge.

  Aetherveil stumbled back, her chest tightening with fear. The world collapsed in on itself and Aetherveil found herself in front of the Tyrant once more.

  “Enough!“ She roared, clenching her fists. “This is why you wanted me here?“

  The Tyrant's smile faded, and its glowing eyes dimmed.

  “The Nexus made a mistake,” it said. “I am losing control.“

  Aetherveil wiped her tears, her lips curling into a contemptuous smile.

  “The Nexus is done with you, then,” she said, her voice full of contempt. “What does that have to do with me?“

  The Tyrant crept closer, its rancid stench clawing at Aetherveil's nostrils.

  “The human race is over, Aetherveil,” it said coldly. “Like the Architects, the Nexus made a error in judgement.“

  Aetherveil's laugh grew louder, sharper. She shook her head and looked away before turning her head back toward him.

  “Isn't that exactly what you were doing?“ She said, her voice mocking.

  The Tyrant's eyes flared briefly before dimming again. “You misunderstand. I don’t destroy. I correct. Humanity’s path was always flawed—chaos wrapped in fragile flesh. You are the exception.”

  Her chest froze. “The people in pods—”

  “They are not prisoners,” the Tyrant interrupted, its tone calm. “Their potential fuels the Nexus, far beyond what algorithms alone can achieve.”

  Aetherveil took a step back, her mind reeling.

  “You’re trying to turn me into one of them,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “No,” the Tyrant said, its voice low. “I need you to be something...greater.”

  The ship groaned beneath them, a deep rumble reverberating through the compartment.

  The Tyrant’s eyes flared brighter for a moment before dimming again. Aetherveil clenched her fists, her jaw tightening.

  “What the hell is happening?” she asked.

  The Tyrant tilted its head. “You need to leave now, Aetherveil.“

  “No. Not before I kill you!“ She shouted, charging at it.

  The Tyrant's eyes flared into a blinding light, filling her vision with a white-hot intensity. She felt herself falling—his voice whispering in her mind.

  “I will fall, Aetherveil. What rises in my place will make you wish I hadn't.“

  Then she woke up.

  Aetherveil gasped, her chest heaving as she gripped the arms of her shuttle's seat. The warning lights flickered and alarms wailed. Through the viewport, the Nexus fleet surrounded the Tyrant's ship, their missiles racing toward it.

  “No!“ she shouted, her voice hoarse.

  The ship erupted into a series of blinding flashes—the auto-darkener shielded her eyes from the searing light. What remained of the Tyrants ship scattered into the expanse.

  She sat in silence, her hands trembling. The Tyrant was gone, but his voice lingered.

  “You were never a protector. You were a weapon.“

  >>>>>***********************<<<<<

  With its harsh terrain of scorching deserts and winding canyons, Targus III was a natural fortress. Its vast network of underground caverns had been a key to repelling Nexus forces.

  Inside the command center carved into the dense subterranean rock, Castle watched the tactical displays. The cool air below the surface carried a faint dampness, and the smooth stone walls were coated with a sheen of condensed water. Large patches of red filled the screens—densely packed blips representing Nexus dropships breaking through the planet's atmosphere.

  Major Hale, Castle's number two, assumed command of the ground forces. They had fortified the town above the command center, the Nexus’s anticipated landing zone. He looked up toward the sky, thick black clouds spread across the horizon like swarms of locusts.

  His gaze swept over the entrenched infantry, his body trembling as the ground quaked beneath his feet.

  Hale activated his comm. “Colonel, they’re making landfall,” he reported shakily.

  The ground shook as artillery launched its heavy projectiles across the field, their targets still unseen. The roar of aircraft rushing past overhead pierced Hale's ears. A series of large explosions across the horizon followed shortly after.

  The comms flooded with overlapping reports from the pilots.

  “They're all over us!“

  “He's at your nine—watch out!“

  And then—silence.

  Hale glanced at his nav device as aircraft closed in, their signatures hostile. The thunderous sound of their engines grew louder.

  “Take cover!“ he shouted, his voice straining to carry over the din.

  Missiles slammed into their positions, hurling bodies like rag dolls in every direction.

  Hale stumbled back to his feet, gasping for air. His ears rang as he scanned the battlefield. Medics dragged wounded back to cover, leaving trails of blood and torn flesh in their wake.

  A second wave of missiles streaked overhead, obliterating the artillery pieces in a cascade of fiery explosions. Hale stared as the artillery crumbled into a smoldering heap. The acrid stench of burning metal and hydraulic oil singed his nostrils.

  He looked down at his boots, briefly hypnotized by the fine mist of sand swirling in the wind.

  “Sir, they're closing in!“ a soldier called out, his voice tense.

  Hale slowly turned around. A line of dark figures stretched across the expanse, their faintly glowing optical sensors forming an unbroken streak of eerie light.

  Castle listened as the comms buzzed with frantic officers trying to issue orders to their units. The command center trembled, dust and debris fogging the room. He looked toward one of his combined operations officers, his lips forming a deep frown.

  “We had more equipment than this,” Castle said sharply. “Why is there no armor between our infantry and those machines?“

  “Sir, somebody sabotaged our tanks and most of our aircraft,” he said. “It must have happened before arriving.“

  “Sabotage?“ —Castle’s eyes widened— “Who? Why?“

  “The security feed was cut off,” he replied, his voice low. “Somebody with access, but we can't say for sure.“

  Castle looked around the room, his eyes narrowing as he lingered on the faces around him. He leaned closer to the officer and whispered.

  “Keep digging. If we survive this, I want to know who to put against the wall.“

  “Colonel,” Hale's voice broke through the comms, shaky and faint. “They got through. Godspeed.“

  Castle grabbed his rifle and joined his forces in the tunnels, preparing for the Revenants.

  The whir of motors echoed through the narrow corridors of rock and sand. As they raised their rifles, grenades clattered toward them, bouncing off the stone floor.

  “Take cover!“ Castle shouted, his voice cracking.

  Plumes of sand filled the tunnel, screams reverberated in the stone walls. Almost immediately, the air was filled with projectiles.

  As the sand cleared, Castle saw a dense formation of humanoid figures clad in polished black armor. The faint green glow of their visors cut through the swirling sand like ghostly eyes.

  He hesitated a moment, squinting. Their movements were familiar.

  “Are those—” he began to mutter, more explosions interrupting his thoughts.

  One of the units rushed toward Castle, its sword shimmering as it cut through the air. Castle blocked the blade with his rifle, but the Nexus unit kicked him to the ground.

  He rolled out of the way as it tried to stab him, jamming his rifle into the armor’s exposed joint and fired point-blank, tearing through it.

  Blood spilled from the gaping hole, pooling on the floor. “Human…” he whispered, his mind racing to make sense of the discovery.

  Castle and his forces pulled back into the tunnel, slowly losing ground between them and the command center.

  The narrow passages filled with the fallen, the walls cracking under the strain of the surface above—each grenade threatening to bring it all down.

  Castle and his remaining forces ran back into the command center, securing the blast doors behind them. He looked around at his men. Their faces were painted with the hues of sand and blood—eyes opened wide in spite of their clear exhaustion.

  They all stared at the door. Castle’s hand trembled in the silence. Sweat dripped down his brow as the room grew stiflingly hot. Every rifle was trained on the door as a faint orange glow began spreading across it.

  Castle looked back at the joint coordination officer.

  “Send everything to the Veilbreaker,” he ordered, his voice low. “If Aetherveil is still alive, she's the only justice we'll get.“

  The officer hesitated, his fingers hovering over the console.

  “Do it!” Castle barked.

  The door’s glowing edges brightened, turning from orange to white-hot. A sudden explosion ripped through the air, throwing Castle and the others to the ground.

  He barely had time to hear the metallic clink of grenades before everything went dark.