I woke up to the sound of the capsule opening.
— Damn, I passed out mid-thought…
I muttered as I sat up, blinking a few times to adjust my vision.
— Do you remember what you were thinking about?"
Z approached, scanning my condition before stepping behind me.
— Yeah. I found a pattern. If the Rangers can learn to identify it — and detect new ones — they'll fight more efficiently, reduce destruction, and obviously avoid injuries.
I followed her with my eyes as I spoke.
— Interesting… I could question it, but you 'killed' 57 holograms. I'll assume you know what you're talking about.
She stopped behind me and suddenly started massaging my back. Weird. I didn't feel any pain. Why was she doing this?
— Just so you know, I'm only doing this because you were rebuilt beyond the recommended threshold. You need the muscles massaged to spread the compounds properly.
Of course. That was such a Z thing — answering before I could even form the question.
— I wasn't thinking anything weird, don't worry.
...Didn't even have time to, honestly.
— Anyway— I tried to shift the topic back. The more they understand the pattern, the easier it'll be to anticipate it and—hey, could you move a little to the side? The massage is good, but your technique needs work.
Suddenly, I felt the full weight of her hands on my trapezius… followed by a flurry of furious, rapid punches raining down on my back.
— YOU ALMOST DIE FROM YOUR OWN STUPIDITY AND YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT MY MASSAGE?! IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT!
Each blow was weaker than the last until they turned into soft taps, almost hesitant.
— What if you had died…? What would I even say to them…?
The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Her hands rested gently on my shoulders now, with no pressure.
— just don't do it alone again, okay?
— I'm sorry. It was an impulse. I… I really was an idiot.
I lowered my head, staring at my wrinkled hands, feeling the weight of what I'd done.
— I truly am sorry.
I turned to look back. Z's holographic face was flickering, fragmented.
— I promise I'll contact you next time. For anything.
Z stabilized.
— Just don't bug me over literally everything. Like… ice cream flavors.
— You know what ice cream is?
— No, but the Rangers keep arguing over the 'flavors.' Must be important to your kind.
Typical of my friends… but seriously? Arguing about something so trivial? Kinda worrying. Are they even taking this whole thing seriously?
I stepped out of the capsule and went to change clothes. It was still early, almost 11 AM. Even with a rested mind and healed body, I still craved the feeling of sleep.
— Gonna sleep? You should be at full energy.
Z's voice echoed from the speakers.
— I am, but I want the feeling of sleep. Maybe I'll dream. If I do, I'll tell you something funny when I wake up.
— ...Humans and your need to sleep.
— Says the alien who's been sleeping in the medical wing for centuries.
The moment I finished the sentence, the speaker system erupted in irritating static. Her way of annoying me? Please. I've got headphones.
Wait.
The noise was coming through the headphones.
— You miserable little alien…
Eventually, the noise stopped — replaced by a lullaby in a language I didn't know.
How did I know it was a lullaby?
They always sound the same.
I lay down. My body sank into the bed—once firm, now impossibly soft, as if I were resting on clouds. Every muscle relaxed under the weight of well-earned rest.
My eyes grew heavy, vision blurred, like the world itself was slowly fading out of focus. As if my mind were surrendering to inevitable sleep.
And then, at the edge of waking and dreaming, a soft whisper echoed in my ears, sliding into my already-drowsy mind. Like a final call, an anchor trying to keep me conscious even as everything around me began to dissolve into unconsciousness.
— Sweet dreams… Xavier.
I smiled. And drifted off.
— Wake up.
The words invaded my mind like a distant thunderclap, reverberating inside my skull. I jolted awake, cold sweat clinging to my skin. Wait… awake?
I looked around. A sea of blood stretched out as far as my eyes could see, dark red and viscous. In the sky, a black moon hovered, radiating an oppressive presence. Hot winds cut through the air, burning my skin.
Was I still dreaming?
— Look at me already, little human.
The voice made me turn. In front of me, a throne rose from the ground itself. It looked like raw concrete, but was covered in a thick, oily substance, black as grease, reeking of sulfur and rot.
And on that throne… he sat.
The being was grotesque, to say the least. His right arm was gone—replaced by the same black sludge, pulsing and shifting like it was alive. His entire body was covered in deep wounds, wrapped in filthy rags that failed to hide the damage. His face was a mystery, hidden beneath a metal helmet reminiscent of medieval helms. On top, something like a decayed crown glimmered under the dark moonlight.
I swallowed hard.
— You… are you Mortuus?
The answer came in a deafening laugh.
— HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
The sound was so intense, the very ground trembled beneath my feet.
— You think I'm that bastard? His voice dripped with contempt. — I'm the true owner. The original. The one you call a sword.
My mind froze.
— You really thought your mediocre blood could control it? And that pathetic technology of yours...
I looked at my wrist, expecting to see my bracelet. But instead, the sword was fused directly to my arm. It pulsed, vibrating like a heart on the verge of explosion.
— I AM A KING.
The being stared at the void where his right arm used to be. He ran his hand over the disfigured stump, the black sludge still oozing down.
— Well… I was a king. Now I'm trapped in this damned blade.
He lowered his head, gazing at his throne.
And for some reason—I laughed.
— A king… trapped inside his own sword. — My lips twisted into an ironic smile. — What's your title? "The Failed King"?
The silence that followed was so deep, even the winds seemed to pause.
— WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO?!
His voice exploded across the landscape, echoing over the sea of blood like a distant thunderstorm.
I crossed my arms and gave a half-smile.
— Apparently, a failed king. One who lives in the past and drowns in his own defeat. A king so obsessed with what he lost, he ended up imprisoned inside his own blade.
I sat up in bed, watching the sword pulse in my hand. It had glowed red before—aggressive. Now, it pulsed white. Soft.
— You've got a sharp tongue. For someone who's not even a ranger, you've got more courage than you should.
— And you've got a lot of pride for a pile of rotting meat.
The exchange went on, like a childish argument. Neither of us backing down, throwing insults until we ran out of steam.
Then, without warning…
— HAHAHAHAHAHA!
— HAHAHAHAHAHA!
We laughed.
We were idiots.
— My name is Xavier.
— I am King Aloinem. A pleasure to meet you.
— The pleasure's mine.
The environment, once hostile, was still dark and menacing—but something had shifted. It was like standing in the middle of a storm but finding shelter under a bus stop. The situation was still bad... but at least I had somewhere to wait it out.
I looked at the sword in my hand.
— So... I'm inside the blade?
— Correct, Xavier.
— And every time I sleep, I'll show up here?
— You catch on quickly, Xavier.
I hesitated before asking the next question.
— But... why?
Aloinem sighed.
— You're not worthy of this sword. And honestly, I don't care about that. But I "saw" your training. It reminded me of my final moments.
He rose from the throne. The black sludge dripping from where his right arm should've been began to crawl up his left, shaping itself into a grotesque blade that dripped with a glowing liquid.
— I will train you. Until you become worthy of wielding this sword properly. My legacy will continue... whether you like it or not.
Before I could react, Aloinem lunged.
I jumped to the side, but his strike shattered my bed like it was made of paper.
— Shit...
I would've fallen into the sea of blood, but to my surprise, it was shallow. Even though it looked like an endless ocean, I felt the ground just beneath my feet, like I was standing in a puddle.
— You should counterattack, not just dodge. You have much to learn.
He was fast. Strong. Relentless.
Every dodge was a miracle.
But miracles don't last forever.
I tried to attack. My blade met his... and simply phased through. The next moment, my vision filled with the glow of Aloinem's sword slashing through my chest.
There was no pain.
Just frustration… a lot of it.
This time, I charged in.
Our swords clashed again, but instead of phasing through his, I felt resistance—his blade pushing back.
I used the opening to swing at his side. Aloinem dodged at the last second.
— Why did you dodge?'' I asked, catching my breath. '' You should've countered.
From beneath the helmet, I heard a muffled sound.
A laugh.
— You really do learn fast, Xavier.
Aloinem didn't give me time to think. The moment he recovered from my last move, he dashed forward again, his black blade gleaming with that thick liquid. I barely managed to raise my sword in time to block.
CLANG!
The impact was brutal. My feet slid across the shallow sea of blood, crimson waves rippling around me. My arms trembled under the pressure, and the crushing weight of his blade almost drove me to my knees.
— You're faltering, Xavier! In a real fight, you'd be dead already!
He pulled back and spun his sword in a violent arc. I leapt away, but the slash released a wave of dark energy that exploded against me. I was hurled backward, rolling across the ground. My body didn't hurt, but the force of the hit left me dazed.
I stood up quickly and planted my feet.
I charged forward, swinging my sword downward, then upward in one smooth motion. Aloinem blocked it easily—but this time, I didn't back off. I locked my blade against his and pushed with everything I had.
The sound of clashing metal echoed through the twisted world. He pressed his sword against mine, and I matched him. Sparks—white and black—shot out between us, crackling like lightning.
He was getting excited.
— Hah! That's more like it! — he laughed, adding even more force to the clash.
My arms began to shake, but I refused to yield.
The energy from our blades kept building. The sword pulsed faster against my arm, vibrating like it was alive. The sea around us churned violently, waves erupting in every direction. The hot wind picked up, slapping my skin and sending my hair flying.
— Come on, show me what you're made of, human!
I pushed harder, drawing strength from somewhere deep inside. The blades trembled with built-up energy. The pressure was overwhelming. It felt like something was about to snap.
And then…
A blinding light hit my eyes.
— XAVIER, WAKE UP!
The world shattered like glass.
The pressure vanished. The heat disappeared. The stench of sulfur and blood was replaced by the musty scent of a bunk bed.
My eyelids flew open with a jolt. The first thing I saw was the metallic ceiling of my dorm. My eyes were still adjusting to the light from the hologram glowing beside me.
Z was there, her digital form flickering faintly. Her face was stable, but her voice carried clear irritation.
— I've been calling you for five minutes! You were groaning and thrashing around! What the hell were you dreaming about?!
I took a deep breath, my heart still pounding.
I looked down at my arm.
The sword wasn't there.
But I could still feel its weight.
Wiping my face, soaked in sweat, I let out a long sigh.
— Nothing important...
Z stared at me for a second, clearly not buying it. Her disbelief was obvious.
— Well, if you're done fighting whatever-the-hell in your sleep, we've got work to do. The Rangers need you, Xavier.
I sat up in bed, feeling the cold sweat sliding down my back.
Aloinem.
One more thing to worry about.
And unfortunately...
That was only the beginning.