Kruger

The sky went black on the west side.

Kaiell saw it first.

Not with his eyes.

With something deeper.

A pulse across the neural thread. A shriek in the Viora field. His skin went cold, and his vision spiraled outward in a blink—racing through the jungle, leaping across distance like memory instead of movement.

There.

The Mage.

A tower of living metal, wrapped in robes of psionic static and Voidlight. It strode through the trees, unbothered by resistance. Behind it floated Wraiths—dozens, maybe more. Not physical beings. Echoes in the shape of horror, tethered to its will.

Kaiell's mouth went dry. He opened his eyes—

"It's here."

"Western shield gate. It's coming."

Alarms howled.

Seth's voice thundered through the comm-grid:

"ALL UNITS TO COMBAT STATIONS. WESTERN SHIELD BREACH IMMINENT. NONCOMBATANTS TO DEEPLOCK. NOVA INDEX CANDIDATES TO RIFTPLATE LINES. DRONES UP. ARMOR ACTIVE. SHIELDS TO REDLINE."

The sky above the western side of the outpost cracked — literally cracked — as Wraiths dove like daggers through the storm.

They struck the outer barrier with psychic bursts — soundless, but brutal.

The shield flared.

Once.Twice.Then—shattered.

The Mage raised its arm.

A spiral of runes formed in the air — black light bleeding inwards — and the gate folded inward, crumpling like it was made of ash and memory.

"Void breach confirmed! Defensive line—GONE!"

The flood began.

Voidlings poured through — not in chaos, but in formation. Packs of blade-limbed crawlers, multi-eyed Sentinels, winged flesh-bats that screamed in pure frequency. Behind them, the Wraiths circled, distorting gravity as they passed.

Kruger defense drones launched in threes, forming concentric spirals in the sky. Plasma lines arced. Explosions lit the courtyard. The ground shook beneath Kaiell's feet.

He stood near the central command deck, heart hammering.

Joran landed beside him in Riftlight armor — old, scratched, but armed.

"Plan?" Joran asked.

Kaiell clenched his fists. "We hold."

They rushed down the platform into the lower courtyard. Dozens of candidates and Kruger guards formed a living wall — some with rifles, others with raw Viora energy burning in their palms.

Kaiell's Viora flared.

He saw them all.The enemy.

Every position.Every movement.A map unfolding in his mind like instinct.

He pointed. "Sniper Voidling — upper ridge. Suppression pack incoming northeast quadrant. Three Wraiths above us — prepare mental shields!"

The squad responded.

They were moving with him.

Like he was the eye of their storm.

And then —

The Mage stepped through the broken gate.

Fully.Silently.

It said nothing.

But the ground bent where it walked.

The sky whispered.

And with a single wave of its arm, it summoned a black monolith of shifting stone and metal — a rift node — embedding it into the outpost's outer floor.

"That's a gateway," Joran shouted. "It's building an anchor—"

"It wants to pull the whole storm inside," Kaiell gasped.

The battle exploded.

Spires became a warzone. Kruger heavy units dropped from above on jetpacks. Arc turrets fired in pulses. Viora-powered strikes lit the walls. One candidate was torn in half by a Voidling hound. Another launched into the air, screaming a battle cry as he detonated mid-flight — a sacrifice to buy a few seconds.

Kaiell's hands sparked.

His vision pulsed again.

He wasn't just watching the Mage now.

He was connected to it.

And it was reaching for him.

"Child of thought," it whispered. "Come closer.Let me show you what your empire hides beneath its armor."