The Odyssey was unlike anything Kaiell had ever imagined.
After departing The Obsidian Spear, the recruits were funneled through drop-ferries into the belly of the Odyssey—a hulking transport-class warship retrofitted for Kruger candidate mobilization. It was not built for comfort. It was built for containment.
Steel corridors stretched endlessly. Lighting flickered with sickly green hues. There were no windows, no warmth, no softness—just cold air recycled a thousand times and the hum of systems designed to keep bodies alive long enough to be broken in training.
Every wall was marked by age and scars—scorch marks, weld patches, graffiti in languages Kaiell couldn't read.
It reminded him of Rust-12.
Only bigger. Colder. Quieter.
He sat on a hard metal bunk in the lower barracks, knees tucked to his chest. The Odyssey had been traveling for nearly twenty hours, cutting through uncharted space toward Jou—the jungle world where this year's Kruger exams would be held. Kaiell tried not to imagine what awaited them there.
He had heard rumors about Jou.
Dense. Wild. Teeming with life the Empire couldn't fully catalog. It was one of the few planets where the Voidlings hadn't just emerged—they'd adapted.
Across from him, Joran lay stretched out on his own bunk, a ration bar clenched between his teeth like a blade. He took one bite, chewed with exaggerated disgust, and groaned. "This tastes like someone freeze-dried a swamp and then set it on fire."
Kaiell looked over. "You've eaten a swamp?"
Joran smirked. "Three times. Fourth was optional."
Kaiell laughed. Quietly. But genuinely.
Some of the other recruits turned and stared—blank faces, empty stares. Nobody else was laughing. They looked like ghosts stuffed into armor: silent, braced for impact.
Kaiell didn't care. That tiny moment of laughter felt like breathing after drowning.
"Think we'll pass the exams?" Joran asked after a long pause, his voice a little softer.
Kaiell leaned back against the cold bulkhead. "No clue. But I'm not going back."
Joran nodded. "Yeah. Same."
Silence settled in again—less heavy this time. The hum of the engines was steady, a pulse through the bones of the ship. Kaiell stared up at the ceiling and felt the vastness of space pressing down on him like a weight.
"You ever wonder what they really look like?" Joran asked.
Kaiell turned his head. "The Voidlings?"
"Yeah. I mean—really look like. Not what they show in Empire footage. Not the dramatized holos with shaky cameras."
Kaiell nodded slowly. "Uncle Samuel saw one. Back on Rust-12. There was a breach in one of the lower tunnels. He never told me what happened, but I saw his face afterward. He couldn't look me in the eye for three days."
"They mess with your head," Joran muttered. "That's what they say. Voidlings don't just kill you. They crawl inside your thoughts."
Kaiell's voice was quiet. "I think they already have."
That sat between them like a third presence.
Joran exhaled. "Well... guess we're already broken. Might as well do something with it."
He held out his fist.
Kaiell raised an eyebrow.
Joran grinned. "New rule. Neither of us dies unless both of us agree it's worth it."
Kaiell stared for a moment, then cracked a crooked smile. "Still a terrible plan."
"Yeah. But it's ours."
Their fists bumped. The sound echoed softly in the metal room.
Hours later, the recruits were summoned to the Orientation Deck. Hundreds of them filed into a circular hall where the air felt thinner and the lighting dimmed to a dusky red. Giant black screens ringed the chamber, and Kruger guards stood like statues along the perimeter—tall, armored, visor-masked. Silent.
Then he entered.
Commander Seth.
His armor was black alloy threaded with red circuit-etchings that pulsed faintly like veins. His presence was... wrong. Not in appearance, but in gravity—as if the air around him bent inward. His steps were soundless, but the echo of power trailed behind.
"I am Commander Seth," he said, his voice deep and distorted—half organic, half machine. "You are not soldiers. You are not warriors. You are liabilities."
A few recruits shifted uneasily.
"Most of you will not pass," Seth continued. "Not because you are weak—but because you are human. Voidlings do not test your strength. They test your fractures—the invisible wounds you pretend aren't there."
Kaiell felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"You are not here to fight them," Seth said. "You are here to become what they fear."
The black screens ignited.
This time, the footage was unfiltered.
Voidlings, raw and uncontained—some slithering, some floating, some roaring across alien landscapes like nightmares given form. One had dozens of limbs and a crown of glowing eyes. Another flickered in and out of reality, trailing blood and shadow like vapor. One clip showed a candidate group on Jou being ambushed—screams, teeth, and then static.
The feed cut.
Darkness returned.
Seth's voice lowered.
"Welcome to Jou. A jungle world shaped by rage, memory, and ancient violence. Your exams will begin upon arrival. There will be no instructions. No retries. No mercy."
He turned and left.
No one moved.
Back in the barracks, Kaiell lay awake long after lights dimmed to blue.
Joran was asleep nearby, curled on his side, muttering in a dream.
Kaiell slowly pulled a worn photo from a pouch on his suit—Uncle Samuel. Still smiling. Still human.
"I'm not ready," Kaiell whispered to the dark. "But I'll go anyway."
Outside the hull, stars slid past in silent arcs. The Odyssey was approaching the gravity well of Jou. The ship had already begun deceleration. The world was just hours away now.
Tomorrow, Kaiell would set foot on a living planet teeming with death.
But tonight—he wasn't alone.
And that was enough.