Kruger

Morning came like a blade.

The sky above the jungle bled orange and violet as the twin suns of Jou rose, casting long shadows through the mist-covered canopy. The air was thicker than before—charged, somehow. Electric.

Kaiell and Joran descended from the ridge just after dawn, following a faint signature on the scanner—movement, isolated, maybe another candidate. Maybe supplies. Maybe both.

They hadn't spoken much since the transmission.

There wasn't much to say.

The idea that power could be forced out of them like a reaction to trauma—it lingered. Gnawed. It made every step feel like a countdown.

The scanner beeped again.Close. Less than sixty meters.

Kaiell raised his hand, crouched low behind a root wall covered in pulsing moss. Joran mirrored him instinctively. They moved slow—silent—guns drawn, ears tuned to the rhythm of the jungle.

Then they saw it.

A clearing. Quiet. Too quiet.

In the center was a candidate—young, pale, leaning against a twisted tree with vines wrapped around his legs. He was breathing. Barely. His uniform was torn, and black fluid clung to the corners of his eyes.

"Voidling venom," Joran whispered.

Before Kaiell could respond, the boy's head snapped up.

"Run—" he rasped.

The vines exploded outward.

From the base of the tree, a creature unfolded—long, slick, segmented like a centipede, but with a body of woven bone and vine-flesh. It moved without sound, except for the wet snapping of its limbs as it lunged.

Kaiell dove left, Joran right.

The centi-voidling moved fast. Too fast. It slammed into the dying candidate and crushed him mid-scream—no ceremony, no pause.

Joran fired two shots, both glancing off the creature's armored back. Kaiell tried to flank it, but the creature spun, tendrils whipping out and catching him across the chest. He flew backward, landing hard in the mud. The wind left his lungs.

"Move!" Joran shouted, firing again, but he was running low—six, five, four shots left.

The Voidling hissed—not with lungs. It had no face, only jagged slits in a skull-like helm. Its movements were erratic, jerking as if it were glitching through reality.

It darted toward Kaiell.

He rolled just in time. The ground where he had been split as the beast's claws struck, leaving a small crater and sizzling acid.

He scrambled to his feet and pulled the pulse knife.

It was small. It hummed faintly in his grip. Useless against armor.

But Kaiell wasn't thinking clearly anymore.

He wasn't thinking at all.

The Voidling came again—and this time, he ran toward it.

It shrieked.

Kaiell slid low beneath its slashing limbs, jammed the pulse knife into the underside of its jaw as it passed over him. The blade cracked—not through flesh, but through something. The creature screamed, not with sound, but with pressure—like gravity itself recoiling.

It spun and backhanded him across the clearing. His body slammed against a tree. Bone crunched. Something inside him snapped.

Pain exploded in his chest.

His vision blurred.

His hand twitched—reached for the pistol.

Nothing.

The Voidling stalked forward slowly now. Confident. Curious. It rose above him, coiling like a serpent ready to end the kill.

He heard Joran scream his name—He felt the weight of Uncle Samuel's photo pressing against his heart—He remembered Rust-12's sky, orange and cruel, and the mines echoing with collapse—

And something inside him ignited.

A spark.

A burn.

A thread of white-hot will twisted through his bones, seizing his chest, expanding outward like a nova being born.

The air vibrated. The jungle around him warped slightly. Leaves curled inward. The Voidling stopped, tilting its head like it sensed something new.

Kaiell stood.

His eyes glowed faint blue, the veins in his arms lit with a cold fire.

He didn't know what was happening.He didn't care.

He moved faster than he ever had—blurred—and slammed his fist into the creature's chest. The impact echoed like thunder.

The creature flew backward, crashing into a tree, then crumpling into twitching pieces.

Joran stared.

"What the hell was that?"

Kaiell didn't answer. He dropped to one knee, panting, the glow already fading. His vision dimmed. Blood dripped from his nose.

But he was alive.

And the creature was dead.

A flicker blinked on his scanner:

CANDIDATE 1179 – NOVA INDEX: AWAKENEDSTATUS: PROVISIONAL

Joran helped him up.

"I guess you were right," he said, voice shaky. "We're already broken. All that was left… was the fire."

Kaiell exhaled slowly, pain still burning behind his ribs.

"No," he said. "That wasn't fire. That was refusal."