The moment the hatch hissed open, Ash stepped out… and immediately felt the nothingness wrap around him. There was no floor. No sky. Just an endless canvas of black, speckled with stars that blinked from millions of years away. His boots left the edge of the platform, and his body floated freely into space like a paper boat in a still ocean.
At first, it felt gentle—almost peaceful. But then came the panic. His arms waved on instinct, trying to stabilize himself, but space didn't care. There was no air to push against, no gravity to hold him down. His body twisted, slowly, then a little more, until he was spinning with no control. He felt his stomach lurch. It was like being drunk without the ground to catch you. And worse—he was forgetting something. Something important. Something basic.
Then he saw a shape cutting through the dark. Dev, gliding toward him fast. Ash only had time to blink before Dev grabbed him by the wrist, steadying his spin with practiced ease. His voice crackled into Ash's earpiece.
"You're not using your stabilizer?" Dev asked, trying not to sound annoyed but failing just a little.
Ash stared at him, confused for half a second before realization hit him hard. "Oh. Shit. That's what I forgot."
Dev didn't respond. Just floated there, still holding his wrist like a teacher waiting for a student to figure out their own mistake.
Ash quickly fumbled around his belt, finally pulling out the small disk-shaped device. He pressed it to his side, and with a soft click, it magnetized to his suit. A pulse of energy hummed through him, and just like that, his drifting slowed. The wild spinning stopped. His body felt lighter, but not out of control. Balanced. Grounded again, even in the middle of space.
He let out a small breath of relief. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," Dev said, his voice low now.
Ash followed his gaze.
The stars had started to dim near the horizon. Or maybe not the stars—maybe the space between them was changing. Twisting. The air was dead silent, but the feeling was loud.
And then, like a crack splitting a painting, the tear opened.
Just a thin red line in space, like a glowing scratch. But then it widened. Slowly. Like space itself was peeling apart. Light didn't come from it. It bled from it. Deep red. Sick red.
Their comms sparked to life again, voice sharp and tense. "This is Command. The Nexus tear is destabilizing, opening much earlier than expected. All operatives on standby—prepare for immediate confrontation. Repeat: the tear is opening now."
Dev's face hardened. He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at the red rift. Ash stayed quiet too. He could feel his breath hitching slightly. His fingers curled slowly, hovering near the hilt of his sword. He didn't draw it yet. He didn't even know if it would help.
Because then they came through. The first creature was slow. Slithering through the rift like it didn't want to leave but was being pushed. Tall. Thin. Unnatural. Its limbs bent backward, every step like a puppet on strings pulled wrong. Its skin—if you could call it that—was black, like tar mixed with glass. Its body shimmered faintly, like it was made of something that shouldn't exist. And then more followed.
A dozen.
Two dozen.
More.
Dev raised a hand, then slowly rested it on the hilt of his sword. His body tensed, ready. Ash expected him to draw.
But Dev didn't. He just stood there for another second, eyes locked on the growing horde. And then he turned his head slightly, looking at Ash. "Unsheathe your sword."
Ash blinked.
"What?"
"Draw it," Dev said again, his tone lower now, more serious. "You heard me. If you're gonna run, run now. If you're gonna fight... then get ready to bleed."
Ash's heart beat faster. His hand moved almost on its own. The sword at his side, it had been quiet for a long time. Too long. But now it buzzed faintly. Like it knew what was coming. Like it was waking up.
He closed his fingers around the hilt. The grip felt familiar. He remembered the weight of it. The time it saved his life. The things it cut through. He took a slow breath.
And with a slow motion, he unsheathed it. The blade gleamed faintly under the red glow of the rift, catching the light like it was hungry for it. The horde didn't stop. They kept crawling out.
Ash looked at the sword.
Then he looked at Dev.
Then he looked at the creatures.
And he waited.
"Take your stance," Dev said. His voice crackled in Ash's helmet. "Be ready."
Ash steadied himself. He tightened his grip, knelt slightly in the void, and positioned his feet as best he could with nothing under them. One foot forward, sword raised across his body. He exhaled to calm his beating heart.
The first creature came. It slithered toward Dev instead of Ash. Ash stiffened, ready to strike. Time slowed. Dev didn't flinch. Ash saw the creature's clawed arm glint in the red light. It lunged forward. Dev stayed still, letting it move. Ash couldn't watch any longer. He lunged out of his stance, spinning through the air. His sword burned in his hands. He struck. The blade slashed down in a clean arc. The creature's body buckled and split where the steel met flesh. Blood-like ichor sprayed into the void, drifting like dark rain.
Ash's heart hammered. He expected cheers, relief, and shock. Instead, Dev spoke softly. "Strength often comes through desperation. But don't rely on that. Not again." Ash tilted his head. "That was… fast." Dev nodded. "Desperation saved Dev today. Make it the last time."
"I need to study your style. I won't teach you anything until I know what kind of fighter you are."
Ash gulped. "So I just—"
"Kill them," Dev said. "This wave is weak. You don't need powers for this."
Ash swallowed and nodded. He shut out the throbbing in his chest. He pushed off gently against the body of the creature, gaining speed and distance.
The next creatures came crashing in—five creatures, all different shapes: twisted, sharp, some resembling broken marionettes. The tunnel wore them down. Ash could smell their rancid energy. He flexed his grip and guided himself forward.
He struck the first at a leaner angle, sidestepping under stiff clawed arms and slicing through its neck with a harsh rasp. He twisted, guiding the slaying steel where his arm remembered it needed to go.
The second came low. Ash spun on his heel, sword trailing behind in a backward slice that chopped the creature's leg. It stumbled, collapsing into a spindly heap.
He rolled mid-air, surfed the stabilizer's hum, and rose to meet a third. This one leapt at him, jaws opening toward Ash's face. His reflexes kicked in. He ducked and stabbed upward into its throat. The creature convulsed before falling limp.
Ash wiped his glove on his sleeve, blood and ichor sputtering off in slow motion.
Only two left. One tried grabbing his arm. Ash twisted backwards, he sliced across the attacker's torso, nearly splitting it open. The other charged. He braced himself and twisted, swinging his sword like a whip—deadly elegance through raw power. Its limbs uncurled, its head tumbled free.
All were down.
Ash floated there, panting. His arms shook. His suit had cuts, but only shallow tears. He followed Dev's voice again: "Well done. You fought smart, not just hard. That sword, your grip, your stances, they're rough but honest."
Ash turned to look at Dev. His friend had not moved an inch, just watched.
"That was the first wave. Now we see what you can do with a real fight."
Ash swallowed thickly. His arm throbbed from the impact. He looked toward the tear. The red glare had deepened, something darker swelling inside. He looked back at Dev, ready to stand his ground.
"Now," Dev said, voice cold and precise, "we move forward."
Ash raised his sword.