The moon hovered pale over Zone Null, casting a milky light on the brutalist fortress buried beneath a mountain of secrecy. Within its deepest levels, where artificial gravity thrummed and the walls whispered with data, Aeden trained.
No weapons. No magic. Just raw body and will.
Every strike he threw reverberated across the reinforced chamber walls. The system-enhanced gravity bore down at 4x normal pressure. His lungs burned. Muscles tore and reknitted mid-motion. Sweat carved rivers across his back like warpaint.
But pain was nothing. Pain meant progress.
Across from him, the [Neural Ghost] flickered into the form of a man—his mirror image, only colder, more ruthless. Its eyes held no morality. Just efficiency.
"Your emotional residue is spiking," the Ghost said. "You're distracted."
Aeden didn't answer. He struck again.
The Ghost caught his fist mid-air. "You hesitate."
Aeden twisted, slid under the Ghost's guard, and delivered a brutal elbow to the phantom's ribs.
No hit registered.
The image shimmered.
"You're not fighting to win," the Ghost hissed, voice tightening. "You're fighting not to break."
Aeden staggered back, panting.
Combat Simulation Failed — Sync Rate: 63%
"Again," he growled.
But before the simulation restarted, the room's lights flared crimson. A priority broadcast lit the air:
INCOMING MISSION – TIER A (UNAUTHORISED OVERRIDE)
Target: [Unknown]
Location: Dead Horizon (Red Zone 3)
Escort Mission: Council Member Liaison – Darius Valtor
Aeden's jaw clenched at the name. Darius. A puppet of the Inner Council. Smug. Entitled. A man who believed power came from lineage, not effort.
But this wasn't a request.
Dead Horizon – 6 Hours Later
A wasteland of metal carcasses stretched before them—abandoned war-machines from a long-forgotten civil war. The wind screamed through hollow hulls like dying animals. Radiation storms flickered on the horizon.
Aeden moved ahead of the caravan, scanning. Behind him, Darius rode in a levitating command chair, draped in silver armor too polished for real combat.
"You're overcompensating," Darius called. "You don't need to scout every meter."
"I don't trust systems to scan what was built to kill them," Aeden replied.
Darius smirked. "Still playing the cold soldier, I see. You never learned your place."
Aeden paused, turning. "And you never earned yours."
The insult landed, but Darius just laughed. "You think grit replaces vision. That pain makes you a king. But you're just a pawn that watched the king bleed and thought he could wear the crown."
Behind them, the caravan halted. A ripple of distortion shimmered across the terrain.
Too late.
A trap.
System alerts flashed. Dozens of heat signatures emerged—invisible bio-tech hybrids, cloaked until now. Ambush protocol.
Aeden's blade ignited in his hand as instinct took over.
Skill Activated: [Phantom Dismember] – Lv. 3
Cooldown: 45 seconds
In a blur, he struck. Blood and machinery flew. But they kept coming—dozens, maybe hundreds.
Darius screamed as his command chair was ripped down. His protection barrier flickered, failing. A claw slashed across his chest, armor bending inward.
Aeden could leave. The mission didn't require survival of the cargo—just escort. But as he raised his blade to withdraw…
[Empathic Sanction] Reactivation – Penalty Tier 2 Imminent
Projected Trauma: 9,000 Civilian Equivalents
Aeden cursed under his breath.
And stepped back into the storm.
By the time the dust settled, the wasteland was quiet again. Aeden stood over Darius, bloodied and breathless.
The noble's armor was shredded. His eyes, wide with disbelief.
"You… saved me."
"I didn't do it for you."
Aeden turned away.
Behind his back, Darius muttered, "You're a monster…"
Aeden paused. "Better a monster with a mind… than a man without one."
End of Chapter 6