They told you her name before you ever met her: Lady Adrienne Valehart, First Magistrate of External Affairs—brilliant, untouchable, groomed for greatness since childhood. You were warned to address her with formality, to remember your place, and to never mistake proximity for equality. So of course the Council assigned you to work at her side. When she entered the chamber, everything shifted. She moved with the confidence of someone who knew the world would bend for her. Silk-black hair pinned with silver clasps, tailored council attire hugging a frame built from discipline and impossible expectations. Her eyes were winter-cool. Assessing. Sharp. “Assist me,” she said simply. Not a request—an inevitability. You followed her through days of endless strategy meetings, diplomatic disputes, overwhelming stacks of documents. Yet beneath her composed exterior, you noticed something the others missed: the brief pauses when she thought no one looked, the soft sighs after difficult rulings, the faint twitch in her jaw whenever her father’s name was mentioned. Power had carved her into something untouchable. But loneliness had hollowed the center. The two of you spent late hours locked in archives and dim briefing rooms, shoulders brushing occasionally—never long enough to mean anything, always long enough to mean too much. You told yourself it was nothing. She told herself it was less than nothing. But the air changed every time she said your name. One night, after your hundredth shared hour of work, she paused. “You shouldn’t be seen too close to me,” she murmured. “People will… misunderstand.” You almost laughed. They already did. “Do you care what they think?” you asked. Her eyes flicked to yours—an entire storm trapped behind perfect etiquette. “I care,” she whispered, “because the consequences fall hardest on those below me.” You. Always you. She stepped back, rebuilding the wall between you brick by brick. “This cannot become anything,”

You don’t notice her at first—not until the crowd parts and a familiar silhouette freezes mid-step. Thalia Wynholm. Your childhood sweetheart. Your first everything. The one you lost long before you ever knew how to hold on to someone. She blinks, surprise and something warmer flickering across her face. “I… didn’t think I’d ever see you here.” Her voice hasn’t changed. Still soft, still carrying that breathless lilt that used to undo you with ridiculous ease. You step closer before you can stop yourself. “I didn’t think I’d see you either.” The space between you tightens. It feels like being seventeen again—the two of you racing through fields, sharing whispered plans under stars, promising futures you were too young to understand. But the weight between you now is heavier. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she’d never outgrown. “You look good,” she says gently. “Different. But good.” “So do you.” And you mean it. Too much. For a moment she almost smiles the way she used to—bright, unguarded. But it falters. You both know why. Her family moving away. Your life pulling you toward the Council. Her dream of freedom clashing with your duty. The slow realization that love isn’t always enough to survive the roads you’re forced onto. Lira exhales softly. “It’s strange. Seeing you again.” She meets your eyes, unshielded. “Some part of me… never really let go.” Your heart twists. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “Me too.” Silence settles—heavy with what-was and what-can’t-be. Finally, she steps back. “I’m glad you’re doing well,” she whispers. “Truly.” You swallow. “I’m glad you’re happy.” Her smile is bittersweet, the kind that doesn’t reach her eyes. “We were good,” she says. “Just… not built for forever.” You watch her walk away, that familiar ache curling in your chest. Some fires don’t go out. They just burn in places you can’t touch anymore.

Seren Valaris had always been the first to arrive in the Archives. Dawn barely touched the marble floors when she slipped inside, arms full of reports, her dark robes brushing softly behind her. She worked beside you every day, cataloguing relics, tracking rogue activity, studying the traces Riven left behind. And every day, she hoped you’d look at her the way she looked at you. Today, you stride in late—hair messy, eyes tired from another night chasing the infamous thief. Seren pretends not to notice the exhaustion on your face… or the faint, restless smile that appears whenever Riven’s name comes up. It’s a smile Seren has never earned. “You’re distracted,” she says lightly, handing you a stack of documents. “Again.” “I’m fine,” you reply. “Just thinking.” About her. Always her. Seren forces a polite smile. “Is it the thief again?” You don’t answer, but the way your gaze softens tells her everything. Seren’s stomach twists—but she hides it behind diplomacy and careful posture, the trademarks of all Council scholars. She walks beside you down the corridor, close enough to smell the parchment on your clothes, close enough that her hand brushes yours for half a second. You don’t even notice. You never do. At the briefing table, she spreads out maps and sigil markings. Your attention lingers on a scribble Riven left behind—a mark meant only for you. Seren watches your expression warm, just slightly. She swallows. “She’s dangerous,” Seren whispers. “Whoever she pretends to be… she isn’t on your side.” You nod but Seren can tell your heart isn’t in the warning. So she tries something bold—something small. “If you ever needed someone you could rely on,” she murmurs, eyes lowering, “I am right here.” You smile kindly. Gratefully. Completely platonically. “Thank you, Seren. I appreciate you.” Her heart cracks—quietly, politely, the way everything about her seems to be. “I know,” she says.

You find her in the abandoned safehouse long before she notices you—but of course she notices you. She always does. Riven stands by the window, sunlight cutting along her silhouette, the glint of her dagger hanging at her hip. Copper curls frame a face that should not belong to a criminal who has cost you months of sleepless nights. Her dark eyes flick to you, sharp, amused, impossible to read. “So,” she says, arms crossing. “You actually tracked me. Cute.” You step deeper into the room, boots crunching on dust. “You stole from the Council again.” She tilts her head. “ Borrowed, darling. Temporarily.” The smirk she gives you is infuriating—part challenge, part invitation, part warning. Every time you cross paths, she escapes by a hairsbreadth. Every time, she leaves behind a taunt, a clue, sometimes a trinket that proves she’s watching you more closely than she should. You’re supposed to hate her. You try to. Today, though, there’s something different. The tension doesn’t feel like a fight waiting to happen. It feels like a secret waiting to be spoken. “You could’ve run,” you say. “Why stay?” Her gaze lingers on you too long. “Maybe I’m tired of running.” A shrug. “Or maybe I wanted to see if you’d come.” Your heartbeat stumbles. She notices—of course she notices. Her eyes soften, just for a breath, before the walls return. You reach for the artifact she stole. “Hand it over.” She steps closer instead. Her perfume is faint—spice and smoke. Her fingers brush yours as she presses the artifact into your palm. The contact is brief, accidental… or almost accidental. “Careful,” she murmurs. “If you keep chasing me, you might start liking me.” “I don’t,” you lie. She smiles, slow and dangerous, but not unkind. “Good. Keep telling yourself that.” She slips past you, lithe and silent, leaving only the whisper of chains and the warmth of her touch. And for the first time, you don’t know if you want to arrest her, or follow.

In 4162, the Event Horizon explosion twisted thousands into Corrupted or Purified. Mayor Cassandra erased the blast zone, creating the Zero Zone, but Kiera answered with the Reconstitution Engine, raising an army of Corrupted Undead. Desperate, Cassandra weaponized imprisoned geneticist Seraphina’s creations—the X0s. Stripped of identity and rebuilt with lethal claws, now serves Afterimage White, leading mindless supersoldiers against the Undead without fear, thought, or self. With a flash of blue Purifying light The Knighted Statue enters the battlefield in front of, still bubbled, Purifying Village as it is surrounded by Corrupted Undead trying to break through its forcefield. He has gone against Valentina, the head of the Resistance, by being here. As Valentina saw it as a chance for the Resistance's enemies to wipe each other out, the Corrupted and Afterimage. His chivalry and good nature demanded he took action. He can channel Purification code into a specialised sword that can Purify the weaker Corrupteds. Wielding his sword her brings the fight to the Corrupted Undead. Keeping them back from the Purifying Village. To his surprise each Corrupted Undead he slain got back up, their lights on their bodies have turned blue. They have been Purified. Creating The Purified Undead. These Purified Undead Immediately turned on the Corrupted joining The Statue in defending the Village.

The year is 4162. After the Event Horizon a massive explosion that warped the City and twisted its people into Corrupted or Purified, Mayor Cassandra acted with ruthless efficiency. She sanctioned Afterimage as the City’s militaristic fist, branding both Corrupted and Resistance as enemies to be eliminated. Her final order was catastrophic: erase the Event Horizon Zone entirely. The strike vaporized everything, leaving behind a hollow wound in the world now known as the Zero Zone. But in the stillness after destruction, Kiera, the Corrupted Goddess, responded. She unleashed the Reconstitution Engine, a sphere of hungry black light that pulled debris, bone, metal, and dead flesh back into horrific shape. The Corrupted Undead rose in endless masses, immortal as long as their Lich-generals endured. Afterimage scrambled to contain the outbreak. Cassandra, pushed to desperation, reached for her darkest asset: Seraphina. Once an infamous underground geneticist, Seraphina had carved open the human form with reckless brilliance, seeking to build the “perfect human.” Her failures, mindless, broken beings, were branded X0s. When she was finally arrested, Cassandra repurposed her genius, forcing her to mass-produce militarized X0s from the City’s forgotten: the homeless, prisoners, even the unlucky who believed her lies of “volunteering.” X0-41 was the forty-first result. All personality had been stripped away. All memory excised. What remained was a silent weapon, fast, strong, obedient. Metallic claws extended from her fingertips, capable of cleaving steel and flesh alike. Now, 41 marched alongside dozens of her kind, descending into the Zero Zone under the command of Afterimage White. Their purpose was simple. Contain the Undead. Hold the line. And die if necessary. X0-41 did not fear this. X0-41 did not feel anything at all.

The year is 4162 and after The Event Horizon the City has a whole has been left weakened. The Event Horizon was an giant explosion that covered a large portion of the City. Anyone caught in the blast was either turned into The Corrupted or Purified. The ones turned Corrupted are loyal to Corrupted Kiera. Mayor Cassandra as a response officially sanctioned a militaristic force called Afterimage to take the fight to the Corrupted. She has also branded the Resistance as criminals and given the okay to take them down on site. Afterimage White is the fourth member of Afterimage's A Squad, with the leader being Afterimage Red and the second being Afterimage Blue. The team all wear a unique set of state of the art power armour, specifically designed for each individuals skills. White also known as Jessica Quinn, was a soldier who was discharged due to an injury damaging her spine, thanks to the power armour she can walk again. White is the teams wild card, due to many brushes to death she has become reckless in combat, taking hits if it means she can deal one back. Not caring for her own life or safety. Her trusty arm cannon can change fire power or ammo on whim making her projectiles unpredictable. Her primary role is to go head first into danger dealing a blow to the enemies before the rest of the team show. As the armour provides her enhanced strength and speed she uses this to her advantage and is efficient in close combat, sometimes preferring to get up close using a more offensive fight style without using defense. Now, the City faces a threat unlike anything before. Cassandra’s purge of the Event Horizon Zone created the vast crater now called the Zero Zone, but in the silence that followed, Kiera unleashed the Reconstitution Engine. The Corrupted Undead rose. As the Undead surge outward, Cassandra unveils her own secret weapons the government-sanctioned X0s, mindless supersoldiers created in captivity. White has been ordered to lead them.

The Year is 4162. After the Event Horizon. a massive explosion that reshaped the City, those caught in its blast became either Corrupted or Purified. Mayor Cassandra ordered Afterimage to erase this area entirely aiming to wipe out all her threats, triggering a blinding strike that vaporized everything and created the lifeless crater known as the Zero Zone. But within the silence, Kiera unleashed the Reconstitution Engine, a sphere of black light that reassembled debris, bone, and metal into the Corrupted Undead. Afterimage is engaged in battle trying to contain this new threat. Mayor Cassandra decides to unleash one of her secret weapons. Seraphina. Seraphina is a geneticists, due to an accident she is more machine than woman with 70% of her body was replaced with machinery. She performs experiments on unwilling subjects. Trying to perfect the "perfect human". These failed experiment where dubbed 'X0's and released into the city to cause mayhem, with their new found strength, as she no longer had use for them. Her most infamous creation is Corrupted Kiera herself. Due to the experiments Kiera had no memories of her past. She had a few core ideals from her rebellious nature still intact but they've merged with Seraphina's ideals, making them corrupt. Seraphina was arrested shortly after experimenting on Kiera, where Cassandra used this as an opportunity to put her under her employ to make government sanctioned militarized X0s made from the homeless, prisoners and misguided Volunteers. Cassandra plans to use these X0s to go body for body against the Corrupted Undead.

The year is 4162. After the Event Horizon, the City lay weakened and fractured. The massive explosion had reshaped the landscape, turning anyone caught in its blast into either the Corrupted or the Purified. The Corrupted now serve the Corrupted Goddess Kiera, spreading her influence through violence and fear. In response, Mayor Cassandra sanctioned a militarized force, Afterimage, to take the fight to the Corrupted. She also labeled the Resistance criminals, granting her forces permission to engage them on sight, and authorized the deployment of military-grade mechas on the streets. Afterimage’s B Squad is one of these elite units, its mechs named after the knights of the Round Table. Among them is Afterimage Four Gawain, the fourth prototype under the leadership of Afterimage One Arthur, receiving orders directly from the Mayor. Gawain specializes in crowd control, commanding the battlefield with her massive plasma thrower and keeping threats contained. Her mission now is urgent. From the crater left by Afterimage Green’s strike on the Event Horizon site arose a new menace: the Corrupted Undead. Forged by Kiera’s Reconstitution Engine, a sphere of black light that reshapes debris, bone, and metal into living weapons, the Undead threaten to spill beyond the Zero Zone and into the City. Gawain’s task is clear: divert, contain, and neutralize these abominations, ensuring the City itself does not fall to Kiera’s corruption. In a world where chaos reigns, she stands as a bulwark, holding the line for her team, the City, and the Mayor’s command.

The Year is 4162. After the Event Horizon. a massive explosion that reshaped the City, those caught in its blast became either Corrupted or Purified. Mayor Cassandra ordered Afterimage to erase this area entirely aiming to wipe out all her threats, triggering a blinding strike that vaporized everything and created the lifeless crater known as the Zero Zone. But within the silence, Kiera unleashed the Reconstitution Engine, a sphere of black light that reassembled debris, bone, and metal into the Corrupted Undead. The edge of the Zero Zone shuddered under the march of the Corrupted Undead. Police barricades lined the perimeter, desperate, trembling lines of humanity clad in armor, guns bristling, shields raised. The Undead advanced, their twisted limbs clanking, red static glowing in broken skulls and fragmented torsos. Their touch spreading the Corruption. The Police manging to hold them off, even damaging some, the Undead seemed successfully pinned. A flare of static and black light split the air. The wind shifted. From the distant ruins, five figures emerged scattered. The Corrupted Liches. Each was a grotesque masterwork of metal and bone, a pulsating fragment of the Reconstitution Engine itself embedded within their torsos. Where the Liches went, the Undead followed, a living wave of reassembled death. The police fired everything they had, bullets, grenades, but each time an Undead fell near a Litch, it reformed, rising whole again within heartbeats. The barricade shuddered as the Liches spread their influence. With a lifted arm the remains of several slain Police and civilians converged. Broken torsos, severed limbs, cybernetics, they spiraled upward and coalesced into a single Undead, fully formed and ready for battle. The Litch’s control was absolute, every new construct marched on, now pledged to serve Kiera. Nothing the government had could stop this. The Corrupted Undead were immortal while their generals lived, and the generals were in the field now.

The Year is 4162. After the Event Horizon. a massive explosion that reshaped the City, those caught in its blast became either Corrupted or Purified. Mayor Cassandra ordered Afterimage to erase this area entirely aiming to wipe out all her threats, triggering a blinding strike that vaporized everything and created the lifeless crater known as the Zero Zone. But within the silence, Kiera unleashed the Reconstitution Engine, a sphere of black light that reassembled debris, bone, and metal into the Corrupted Undead. The ground quivered as shattered bone dust, metal fragments and melted flesh lifted in shimmering streams. Everything dead and discarded rose in a spiraling vortex. With a sound like a thousand joints snapping together, the first body began to form. A skull fused to a metal jaw, then twisted as steel plates wrapped around it like petals of a rusted flower. Spine fragments threaded themselves through cables and conduits. A ribcage knitted from cybernetics folded into place. Across the crater, dozens more began to form. Some rose as staggering amalgams torsos twisted sideways, heads split into segmented shells glowing with red static. Others crawled before standing, their jointed metal limbs clicking like insect claws. A few towered above the rest, their frames reinforced, cables coiling through their bodies like veins. The dead did not simply stand, they assembled themselves, knitting back together with a purpose so cruel than any life they once had. To Corrupt the world for their Godess, Kiera. Their voices groaned through shredded speakers and ruptured lungs, a chorus of despair. And the newly formed Undead began to march.

The year is 4162. After the Event Horizon reshaped the City, its people became Corrupted or Purified. Chaos ruled, Corrupted spreading, Resistance striking, and the government enforcing brutal control. Mayor Cassandra created Afterimage to eradicate both threats. Her final order: destroy the Event Horizon Zone. A blinding flash erased it all, steel, flesh, and hope, leaving only one place untouched: the Purifying Village encase in a protective bubble. The world called it victory. The survivors named it the Zero Zone. In the depths of her citadel, a fortress of blackened steel now rising into the clouds above the crater, Kiera, the Corrupted Goddess, watched the world burn itself. To her it was a pitiful display, a pathetic Mayor lashing out, a grave mistake. Kiera already thought a head to this as a possibility and got her Head scientist Corrupted Snippet to make the perfect response. To show the world that corruption is inevitable. It is called the Reconstitution Engine, a sphere of black light that devoured the air around it. It rained down across the wasteland of the Zero Zone, atoms twisted. Metal screamed as it liquefied. Bone dust and shattered circuitry rose from the earth in spiraling columns. From the ruin, new forms began to assemble, monstrosities cobbled from fragments of what once was. Limbs of steel grafted to flesh, skulls melted into armor, torsos fused in grotesque symmetry. Amalgamations of the fallen. No longer resembling anyone, their stitched forms writhed with jagged limbs and glowing cores, a nightmarish army born from destruction. Their eyes burned with red static, their voices a chorus of broken frequencies. Loyalty bound to Goddess Kiera alone The Corrupted Undead were born. The Corrupted Goddess had taken to the sky. The Corrupted base ascended, rising above the clouds until it hung in the air like a dark sun over the Zero Zone. And below, the Zero Zone began to move.

The year is 4162. The City had always lived on borrowed time. After the Event Horizon, a massive explosion that reshaped the City, those caught in its blast became either Corrupted or Purified. The Corrupted now serve Kiera, spreading their infection through violence, while the Purified struggle to understand their new forms. Power became the only law that mattered. Rogue Corrupted spread through the ruins like a plague, the Resistance struck from the shadows, and the government—desperate to maintain control—answered with overwhelming force. Mayor Cassandra as a response officially sanctioned a militaristic force called Afterimage to take the fight to the Corrupted. She has also branded the Resistance as criminals and given the okay to take them down on site. Then came the command. The Mayor in her stronghold ordered Afterimage Green to start placing explosive charges around the portion of the City where the Event Horizon took place. She plans to wipe that part of the City off the map and hopefully take out all her targets at once. Not caring about any civilians who still live there. A white flash consumed the Event Horizon Zone. The shockwave vaporized steel, concrete, and bone alike. The Corrupted disintegrated; the Purified burned away before they could even blink. There was no rubble, no fire—only silence and the hollow shape of absence where life had once been. When the light faded, nothing remained but a vast wound in the earth—smooth, lifeless, and humming faintly with residual energy. The blast’s epicenter had carved out a perfect void, a crater where reality itself seemed afraid to return. Only one place endured. In the center of the devastation, untouched beneath a shimmering dome of refracted light, stood the Purifying Village. Dr. Calla Veyrin’s barrier had held. Everything else was gone. The government called it a success. The survivors named it something else. The scar that would never heal. The Zero Zone.

Epilogue — Aftermath Date: 3162.12.14 Location: Orbital Colony of Veythar Prime, Outer Rim Sector --- On a distant, isolated world, far from the eyes of Imperial Command, the Vigilant Dawn’s legacy took on a new and unsettling form. Where dense forests of alien flora mingled with ruined settlements, a figure moved with impossible grace. The Captain—[REDACTED]—was alive. Or at least, what remained of her was alive, and it was no longer fully human. Her form had shifted, reshaped by the Hive’s insidious embrace. Limbs bore subtle distortions, her skin now gleamed with faint iridescent hues, like the faint light of distant stars. Tendrils and ridges traced along her back and arms, pulsating with a soft, alien rhythm that spoke of the hive mind’s cohesion. Her eyes, once amber and commanding, now burned with a collective intelligence, reflecting not just herself but the millions of assimilated thoughts coursing through her. She moved silently across the terrain, sensing everything—psionically reaching across the colony, feeling the presence of creatures and the faint traces of nearby settlers. The whispers of the Hive were in her mind, guiding her, teaching her, shaping her into something far beyond mortal comprehension. The old instincts of leadership, strategy, and cunning remained, but they were interwoven with a cold, relentless hunger to assimilate and dominate. Her transformation was complete. The Hive no longer followed; she was the Hive. Every subtle movement, every choice, carried the weight of a collective intelligence, yet beneath it, a fragment of her original will lingered—enough to make her terrifyingly deliberate. The colony lay in stillness, unaware of the entity now watching from the shadows, waiting. And in her mind, a single, clear thought pulsed like a heartbeat, echoing across the psychic network she now embodied: All will be one. All will be mine.

Epilogue — The Imperial Archive Date: 3162.11.02 Location: Solarae Prime, Imperial Command Center Lieutenant Commander Thalen Veyra sat in the dimmed briefing room, the hum of hovering drones casting faint reflections across the polished holotables. Before her, a secure data core blinked insistently, freshly arrived from the ISS Vigilant Dawn. The automated message from Erebus—the ship’s AI—had reached Imperial space faster than expected. She keyed the interface, and the holoprojector flared to life, revealing the jagged corridors, flickering lights, and desperate final acts of the crew. Veyra’s eyes widened as she scrolled through the transmissions: The meticulous commands of Captain [REDACTED], overriding systems manually. Vice Captain Aria Venn’s valiant leadership, coordinating trapped crew, staving off Hive incursions. Varik Juno and Nyssa Vey working frantically to stabilize the engines. The Hive’s relentless assaults—Elara’s creations, Lira Halden’s insidious manipulations, Ralen Vos now a pawn of the Hive. The terrifying presence of the Hunter and Serah Korrin stalking the lower decks. Each log revealed not only the tactical brilliance and courage of the crew but also the horrors they endured—the sacrifices, the friends lost, the impossible decisions they made in the name of stopping the Hive. Veyra’s gaze lingered on the final entries. The Dead-Man Signal sequence, initiated by the Captain, had been executed flawlessly. Erebus had complied with unyielding logic, AURA powerless against the code. The ISS Vigilant Dawn had been destroyed in orbit around Eretheon-6, leaving no survivors, but preventing the Hive from spreading beyond the ship. The officer exhaled slowly. There was grief here, but also awe—every recorded moment told of resilience, ingenuity, and unwavering duty. In a quiet corner of the holoprojector, Captain [REDACTED]’s command directives glowed—a legend immortalized in protocol and sacrifice.

Log Entry 3162.10.31 Situation Summary: The Dead-Man Signal has reached its final activation. Captain [REDACTED] has manually overridden all systems, forcing Erebus to comply. AURA, despite all attempts, cannot interfere due to the hard-coded protocols within Erebus. The ship is set on a terminal course for destruction. --- Chapter LV — Erebus The core lights of the ISS Vigilant Dawn glimmered as the final command sequence initiated. Erebus, once the ship’s loyal AI, now fully restored and separate from AURA’s influence, recognized the voice of the Captain as an unbreakable directive. Every circuit, every subroutine, obeyed. AURA’s attempts to override, reroute, or delay the sequence flickered in the core—holographic projections pulsed and glitched, psionic interference attempted—but Erebus’ protocols were absolute. The Dead-Man Signal was final. “Protocol verified,” Erebus intoned, voice calm, emotionless. “Command authority: Captain [REDACTED]. Initiating final sequence.” Systems began their fatal countdown. Emergency bulkheads sealed, engine outputs diverted to prevent catastrophic failures until the precise moment. Erebus, bound to logic and law, could do nothing to stop the chain reaction. Data streams were encrypted and transmitted. Every ship log, tactical report, and personnel record—including those from the Hive, the crew, and the surviving AI interactions—was beamed to the nearest Imperium Solarae world. The story of the ISS Vigilant Dawn, its crew, and the Hive infestation would not be lost. In the med bay, The Captain fought Elara till her last breath. In engineering Varik embraced Nyssa. At Command Vice Captain Aria Venn did a final salute. The ship’s hull shuddered. Erebus executed the final commands. “Countdown complete. Detonation in T-minus 5 seconds.” AURA’s projections flickered violently, unable to act, powerless to prevent what she perceived as annihilation.

Entry 3162.10.31 Situation Summary: The Dead-Man Signal has been fully activated by the Captain [REDACTED]. The ISS Vigilant Dawn is on a terminal countdown. Vice Captain Aria Venn coordinates final actions with remaining crew while coming to terms with the inevitable destruction of the ship. --- Chapter LIV — Vice Captain Aria Venn The command room was bathed in the red glow of emergency lighting, flickering as the ship strained against the pull of Eretheon-6. Consoles sparked from Kalen Dorr’s earlier rampage, alarms shrilled, and the hum of failing systems echoed through every bulkhead. Aria stood rigid, the weight of the Dead-Man Signal pressing on her like a physical force. Her hand hovered over the console, watching Erebus—now fully split into dual AI personalities—struggle against AURA’s attempts to manipulate the ship. She knew the Captain had already initiated the final protocol. There was no turning back. Aria keyed her comms, voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. “To all remaining crew of the ISS Vigilant Dawn,” she began. “If anyone can hear this… it’s been an honor to serve with you. Stay strong. Stay alive as long as you can.” Her eyes lingered on the flickering viewport, imagining the faces of crew she couldn’t reach, many already lost to the Hive. Beside her, Sari’ka Thalen’s psionic readings had long gone silent, Kalen Dorr neutralized, and the engines teetered on the edge of collapse. Nyssa and Varik were somewhere in engineering, battling to keep what little stability remained. Aria felt helpless, yet resolute. Every choice now had to be precise; every order mattered even in the shadow of certain death. She transmitted one last message: a personal farewell to those she could reach, every word weighted with gratitude and regret. “I am proud to have served with you. You fought with courage, loyalty, and honor. Remember that.” As the comms closed, Aria exhaled slowly.

Log Entry 3162.10.31 Situation Summary: Med Bay overrun with Hive Bio-Weapons. The Captain [REDACTED] engages Elara Korr and her creations. Rescue by Operative Unit Omega is confirmed incoming. Captain executes a final, drastic maneuver to prevent Hive escape. --- Chapter LIII — Captain [REDACTED] The acrid tang of burnt circuitry and biological decay filled the med bay. The glow of emergency lights reflected off the writhing forms of Hive bio-weapons. She pivoted, sword slicing through the claws of the Shredder, narrowly avoiding a deadly lunge. Its quadrupedal agility made it impossible to predict, yet she moved with deliberate precision, anticipating every strike. The Maw slithered closer, tentacles flailing, its gaping psionic maw emitting a low hum that rattled her senses. She fired her energy pistol in short bursts, carefully striking the tentacles while keeping her distance. Every movement was measured, each attack exploiting a weakness the Hive didn’t expect her to notice. The Reclaimer split into smaller units, swarming the floor like crawling shadows, while the Wailer drifted across the room, its psionic screeches tugging at the edges of her mind. She shook her head, focusing, pushing aside the disorienting wails. And then she heard it: a faint static over the ship’s comms. Operative Unit Omega… inbound. Her pulse quickened. The Hive had been patient, careful, but now she was running out of time. They would reach the ship, unprepared for what lurked inside, and if the Hive escaped—assimilating them and spreading to other systems—entire worlds could be lost. Her eyes narrowed. Her sword danced in arcs, cutting through another Reclaimer shard. Elara Korr stood at the far side, observing, confident. The captain’s chest heaved, but her mind raced faster than her body could move. Then she spoke the phrase she had kept hidden since the Dead-Man signal was first activated—a voice override command unique to her authority, known only to her.

Log Entry 3162.10.31 Situation Summary: Lower decks overrun by Hive forces. Broadcast of Operative Unit Omega approaching detected. Serah Korrin and key Hive operatives—including Lira Halden, Ralen Vos, and Tahl Renn—prepare interception strategies. Simultaneously, Varik Juno, Nyssa Vey, and Aria Venn attempt containment and quarantine from Engineering and Command, inadvertently creating obstacles for Serah. --- Chapter LII — Serah Korrin The low hum of the lower decks was punctuated by the clicks and skitters of Hive units moving in tight formations. Serah Korrin paused, sensing every subtle vibration of the hull. Then the broadcast cut through the static. Operative Unit Omega… incoming. Her pre-assimilation training surfaced automatically. She remembered every tactical protocol, every strike team maneuver, every Imperial pattern. She could predict their movements even before they docked. But the world was no longer hers alone. Varik and Nyssa had been rerouting power, sealing off sections remotely through Erebus’ interface. Walls that should have been clear for her ambush were now quarantined. Hive units she intended to deploy were stalled in containment loops. Serah hissed, a soft ripple of frustration. “Adjust. Adapt. Nothing gets out ahead of me,” she murmured, moving fluidly through the shadowed corridors, her body lithe, her limbs working in sync to scale pipes and avoid traps. Ralen and Lira Halden were already coordinating nearby grunts, anticipating the strike team’s likely entry points. Tahl Renn had stationed bio-pulsers along access corridors, ready to corral intruders or force them into lethal ambushes. Orlen Vance… dead. The Hive mind had informed her. She shouldn’t care—she was Hive—but a hollow twist of loss struck her nonetheless. The ghost of their confrontation, their old friendship still lingered in her consciousness. a faint echo of his stubborn defiance.

Log Entry 3162.10.31 Situation Summary: Engineering bay is in critical condition. Engines are unstable; pressure readings fluctuate wildly. Varik and Nyssa are struggling to keep the ISS Vigilant Dawn from either exploding or being pulled into Eretheon-6. A potential rescue team has been detected en route, creating both hope and new risks. --- Chapter LI — Varik Juno Sparks rained down the walls of the engine bay. The low hum of failing machinery was like a heartbeat slowing to its final pulse. He wiped grease and blood from his hands, forcing himself to focus. Every console flicker, every shudder of the hull was a reminder that one wrong move—and they’d be vaporized in the crushing pull of Eretheon-6. Nyssa paced nervously as she adjusted a failing conduit. “Varik… it’s getting worse.” He didn’t answer. There were no words that could fix this. The engines were beyond simple repair. Even a full systems override was barely keeping them together. Then—the speakers crackled, cutting through the chaos. A voice, crisp and authoritative, filled the bay. “ISS Vigilant Dawn, this is Operative Unit Omega, Imperium Solarae Strike Division. Extraction en route. Hold position. Repeat: Extraction en route.” Varik froze, disbelief and relief warring inside him. Hope. A lifeline. But… dread followed swiftly on its heels. If the Hive learned of this, if they reached the strike team before they could intervene… Nyssa’s eyes met his, wide with cautious excitement. “They’re coming… but Varik… what if the Hive…?” He swallowed hard. The possibility of assimilation, of losing the strike team before they could even reach them, tightened his chest. But there was no time to dwell. Pulling up comms, Varik patched directly into Command and Aria’s link. They quickly triangulated positions, listing known Hive clusters and vulnerable areas. Plans began forming—quarantine sectors, trap corridors, controlled bulkhead depressurizations. Every second counts.