The sky beyond the window did not belong to any one world.
It was layered—realities stacked like translucent veils, stars bleeding through dimensions that had no business overlapping. Laws bent gently here, not broken, as if even existence itself knew better than to misbehave in this place.
A man stood by the window, one hand resting behind his back, the other lifting a porcelain cup to his lips.
Steam curled upward.
Tea.
Perfectly ordinary.
The man himself was anything but.
He watched worlds turn.
Not metaphorically—literally. Civilizations rose and fell as drifting reflections in the glass, each no more than a thought away. Armies clashed. Gods died. New constants replaced old ones.
The man sipped his tea, unbothered.
Behind him, footsteps approached—soft, deliberate, carrying confidence rather than caution.
"So," a woman's voice said lightly, almost amused, "have you heard about the one they call Drax Magna?"
The man didn't turn.
He finished his sip first.
"Yes," he replied calmly.
The woman stepped closer, stopping just behind his shoulder. She was tall, sharp-eyed, her presence carrying the weight of something ancient wearing a human silhouette. Her silver hair was tied loosely, strands drifting as if moved by a wind that did not exist.
"He's unmeasured," she continued. "Like you."
That did it.
The man set his cup down with deliberate care. Porcelain met marble with a soft, final sound.
Then he straightened.
Slowly.
And turned.
His eyes were clear—too clear. Not bright, not glowing, not dramatic. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much and found most of it unimpressive.
"I told you," he said evenly, "not to call me that, Serius."
She smiled.
"My apologies," she said, lips curling with deliberate provocation. "Rok."
A vein twitched—just once.
"My name," he corrected, voice suddenly colder, heavier, "is Lex."
Serius raised her hands in mock surrender, though her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"Fine. Lex," she said. "But you can't deny it—he's interesting."
Lex turned back toward the window, clasping his hands behind his back.
"I've heard of him," he admitted. "More than heard, actually."
Serius leaned against a nearby pillar, crossing her arms. "That quick, huh? The Association tried to bury the reports."
"They failed," Lex replied flatly.
He stared through the glass.
Forest of Blackreach.
Two domains colliding.
A dragon forced to retreat.
A human inner world partially manifested—and then withdrawn by choice.
Serius watched his reflection instead of the view.
"So?" she pressed. "You find him interesting?"
Lex exhaled.
"Hate to admit it," he said, "but yes."
Serius's smile widened.
"If you think that highly of him," she mused, "then I suppose he really is strong."
Lex turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing at her.
"Don't fight him," he said.
Serius blinked. Once.
"…Excuse me?"
"You'll lose," Lex continued calmly. "Even at his current level."
Silence stretched.
Serius laughed—soft at first, then brighter, more dangerous.
"That's a bold claim," she said. "Coming from you."
Lex finally looked at her fully.
"Bold doesn't mean wrong."
Her laughter faded, replaced by something sharper.
"So you're saying he's already on that level?"
"No," Lex said. "I'm saying he's on a level that doesn't stay still."
Serius tilted her head. "Then how do you propose we confirm it?"
Lex's lips curved—not into a smile, but something close.
"If you want to know whether the rumors are true," he said, "send Squad Zero."
Serius's eyes widened, just a fraction.
"…Isn't that a bit too much?"
Lex picked up his cup again, unfazed.
"You'll see something interesting."
She studied him, searching for irony.
Found none.
Slowly, Serius smiled again—this time, genuinely.
"Alright," she said. "Got it."
The air rippled.
Wind howled once—
—and she vanished.
Lex took another sip of tea.
Beyond the window, somewhere far below the threshold of notice, a young man walked home through a forest scarred by gods and dragons alike, unaware that eyes older than continents had just turned fully toward him.
Lex watched the reflection fade.
"…Unmeasured," he murmured.
The summoning chamber did not exist on any map.
It was carved from voidstone, floating in a pocket reality stabilized by sheer authority alone. Symbols etched into the floor pulsed faintly—ancient sigils that predated ranking systems, nations, even gods.
Serius appeared at the center of the chamber, boots touching down without a sound.
She raised one hand.
The sigils flared.
Space folded.
One by one, figures emerged.
Five presences manifested—not through portals, but through permission. Reality allowed them to be here because it could not stop them.
Squad Zero.
They did not stand together.
They never did.
The first leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, face hidden beneath a fractured helm that seemed to drink in light. The air around him warped subtly, like gravity itself was undecided.
The second sat on a floating slab of stone, legs dangling, eyes closed—yet the moment Serius appeared, his attention sharpened. His aura hummed like a blade halfway drawn.
The third arrived kneeling, one hand pressed to the floor, breath steady, eyes calculating everything in the chamber within a heartbeat.
The fourth simply appeared, standing beside Serius without warning, her presence so quiet it felt wrong. If not for the faint distortion around her silhouette, she might have been mistaken for a shadow.
The fifth was last.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Cloaked in layered armor inscribed with kill-counts rather than names. He planted the butt of his spear against the floor, the sound echoing like a verdict.
Serius turned slowly, her gaze sweeping across them.
"Squad Zero," she said. "You have a task."
The one with the spear chuckled.
"Must be serious," he rumbled. "You don't call us for errands."
She smiled thinly.
"You're to locate and observe an individual."
The kneeling figure looked up. "Observe only?"
"For now."
The one on the floating slab opened his eyes. "Name?"
Serius paused.
"…Drax Magna."
The chamber reacted.
Not violently.
Not loudly.
But unmistakably.
The air tightened.
The fractured-helm warrior straightened slightly.
The shadowed woman's head tilted.
The spear-bearer's grin faded.
"…Unmeasured?" the kneeling one asked quietly.
"Yes," Serius replied.
The spear-bearer let out a low whistle. "Haven't heard that word in a while."
"You're not to provoke him," Serius continued. "You're not to interfere unless necessary."
The fractured-helm warrior finally spoke, voice distorted and deep.
"And if he notices us?"
Serius's smile returned.
"Then you adapt."
The shadowed woman took a step forward, her presence rippling faintly.
"And if he attacks?"
Serius met her gaze without flinching.
"Then survive," she said simply.
Silence fell again.
Finally, the one on the floating slab grinned.
"This should be fun."
Serius turned away, walking toward the edge of the chamber where reality thinned into nothing.
"Oh," she added casually, glancing back over her shoulder, "Lex suggested this personally."
That did it.
Interest sharpened into focus.
The spear-bearer tightened his grip.
The kneeling figure rose smoothly.
The fractured-helm warrior's aura surged once—then vanished.
The shadowed woman smiled.
Serius stepped into the void and vanished.
Far away—
In a city called Norn—
A young man named Drax Magna walked home, unaware that the most dangerous hunters in existence had just been given his name.
The Abyss stirred.
And somewhere deep within it—
Something smiled back.