Consciousness returned like an untuned radio—jagged, incomplete.
Ethan blinked against the sterile lights overhead, the cold bite of metal seeping into his spine. The coin, warm against his palm, pulsed in time with his sluggish heartbeat.
"He's moving!" a high, relieved voice chirped nearby.
March 7th. Pink hair, blue eyes, camera already halfway raised.
Ethan grimaced and pushed himself into a sitting position. His muscles ached like he'd been drop-kicked through a dozen realities—and judging by the coin's uneasy heat, that wasn't far from the truth.
Dan Heng stood nearby, spear in hand, his stance relaxed but ready. The gray-haired girl—Stelle—watched from behind him, her amber eyes narrowed with a sharpness Ethan recognized too well.
Wary. Calculating.
Good. He'd be doing the same.
"You okay, glowy guy?" March knelt beside him, peering with open curiosity. "You kinda... faceplanted after Kafka did her spooky villain monologue."
Ethan rubbed at his temple. "Pretty sure 'spooky' is underselling it."
The coin rolled restlessly between his fingers—a familiar comfort as the world settled around him. He flicked it into a spin across his knuckles without thinking.
March's gaze locked onto the motion instantly. "Ooooh, is that your thing? Cool trick!"
"It's habit," Ethan said smoothly, catching the coin against his wrist. Heads.He glanced at Dan Heng, at Stelle, at the unfamiliar corridors around them.
Then, with a subtle roll of his thumb, he flipped it again behind his back.
Tails.
Much better.
Decision made.
He climbed unsteadily to his feet. "Name's Ethan Sol," he said, flashing a crooked smile. "And I have no idea where here is."
Dan Heng's expression didn't change. "You're aboard the Herta Space Station," he said simply. "After Kafka... left... you collapsed near a Stellaron."
At the mention of Kafka, Ethan felt the skin between his shoulder blades tighten. His hand closed instinctively around the coin, grounding himself.
"And the Stellaron?" he asked carefully.
Stelle shifted, hand hovering over her chest. "Inside me," she said bluntly.
March pouted. "Kinda messed up, honestly."
Ethan tilted his head, studying her. March seemed open, bright—but not stupid. Dan Heng was harder to read; guard up but not aggressive. Stelle... she was the variable.
The coin spun again in his hand, slower this time.Heads.This time, he didn't cheat.
"Alright," he said, pocketing the coin. "Looks like we're all stuck in the same storm."
March beamed. "Team-up time!"
Dan Heng finally lowered his spear fully. "We need to move," he said. "More of Kafka's people could still be around."
Stelle's gaze lingered on Ethan a heartbeat longer than necessary. "You're... not normal," she said, not unkindly.
Ethan grinned, sharp and effortless. "Neither are you."
The station shuddered beneath their feet.
Dan Heng's spear snapped into a ready stance. March notched her bow, ice swirling around her fingertips. Stelle cracked her knuckles, her amber eyes narrowing.
Ethan...
He spun the coin once across his fingers.
It buzzed faintly—like static clinging to his skin. His gut twisted. Something was waking up inside him, restless and hot.
"Movement up ahead," Dan Heng said. "Voidrangers."
A screech split the air.
Figures emerged from the broken corridors—twisted humanoid shapes, faces hidden behind distorted helmets, weapons crackling with alien energy. The Antimatter Legion had arrived.
March cursed under her breath. "Why's it always the creepy ones?"
Without hesitation, Dan Heng lunged forward, striking a Voidranger with a clean, spinning blow that sent it staggering.
March fired a freezing arrow, pinning another to the wall with a crack of ice.
Ethan shifted his weight.
Heads or tails?
He palmed the coin. The warmth in his pocket flared.
One of the Voidrangers broke free of the pack, raising a warped energy rifle—aimed straight at March.
No time.No coin toss.Move.
Golden light exploded under his boots.
In a flash, Ethan blinked across the gap, a burning afterimage left hanging where he'd been.
March gasped. "Wha—?!"
The Voidranger's shot missed by inches, scorching the wall.
Ethan landed hard, stumbling—his vision swimming—but kept moving by pure instinct. The coin in his hand screamed for action.
He swung a wild punch.
Solar energy burst at the point of impact—detonating into the Voidranger's chest. The creature shrieked as molten light ripped through it, flinging it back into a wall with a bone-jarring crunch.
Ethan staggered, heat crawling across his skin.
March stared. "Did you just—?"
Dan Heng spared him a single, sharp look, but otherwise said nothing.
The coin spun again across Ethan's knuckles.
Tails.
He grinned through the pain in his shoulder. "Lucky guess."
More Voidrangers slithered through the smoke and wreckage—dozens now, filling the shattered hallways with their war-cries.
Dan Heng spoke tersely: "We fall back."
March fired another blast of ice, covering their retreat. "Where?!"
Ethan felt the coin humming. Wild, desperate ideas sparked in his mind.
"Trust me," he said, tossing the coin high.
Heads.
"Left!"
Without waiting for confirmation, he bolted toward a half-collapsed maintenance corridor.
Dan Heng and Stelle followed instantly. March, with a scream of frustration, chased after.
"—why are we trusting the human glowstick?!" March shouted.
"I don't know!" Ethan shouted back, laughing breathlessly. "But the coin hasn't lied yet!"
Behind them, the Voidrangers gave chase—alien screams echoing through the wreckage.
Finding a room they
They slammed the door shut behind them.
Dan Heng shoved a filing cabinet across the entrance for good measure. The muffled shrieks of the Voidrangers echoed down the corridor but grew fainter as the seconds ticked by.
Silence settled, broken only by the frantic pounding of Ethan's heart.
March 7th wiped sweat from her forehead, grinning shakily. "Well! That was...horrible."
Dan Heng scanned the ruined room: broken consoles, papers scattered across the floor, an old vending machine blinking error messages. His spear never lowered.
Ethan stumbled to a wall and slid down it, breathing hard.
The coin burned against his palm.His veins pulsed golden for a moment—tiny, spiderwebbing cracks of light racing along his forearm before fading.
He yanked down his sleeve, hoping no one noticed.
March flopped onto an overturned chair, spinning it lazily. "Soooo," she said, eyeing Ethan with exaggerated casualness, "glowy teleporty punch guy... any other tricks you're hiding?"
Ethan managed a smirk. "I make a mean cup of coffee."
March snorted.
Dan Heng wasn't laughing. He stood near the door, spear ready, gaze flicking between Ethan's pocket (where the coin pulsed) and his too-relaxed smile.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Dan Heng asked, voice low and dangerous.
Ethan shrugged. "Family tradition. Hit first, ask questions later."
Another lie.The truth would take too long—and besides, he barely understood it himself.Solar energy bleeding from his skin? Spontaneous teleportation? It wasn't supposed to be real.
March waved dismissively. "Hey, leave him alone! He saved my butt. That counts for something!"
She tossed Ethan a candy bar from her pocket.
It hit him square in the chest before bouncing into his lap.
"You look like you're about to pass out," she said brightly. "Sugar helps!"
Ethan stared at the candy. Then, grinning, he spun his coin up into the air with two fingers—high, fast.
Everyone watched.
The coin caught the broken light of the station and flared blinding gold for a split second before falling—
Ethan caught it neatly.
Heads.
He tucked it away without showing them the result, popping the candy into his mouth with a wink.
March clapped sarcastically. "Wow. Super serious life decisions made with gambling. Love that for us."
Dan Heng's grip tightened just slightly.
And Stelle...
She hadn't said a word.
She stood by the window, looking out into the ruined station, one hand over her chest where the Stellaron pulsed inside her.
Her amber eyes flicked to Ethan—and for a second, he thought he saw something like recognition.
Or maybe warning.
He didn't flip the coin for that.
Instead, he whispered to himself, just loud enough that none of them could hear:
"Rigged it."