Cipher tuned into the static, each shift in frequency the same as a pianist searching for the right tune.

  The noise wasn't just noise. It was language—machine-code poetry, cryptographic riddles, and the silent symphony of a system under siege. However, while most would be hacking using technological skills, Cipher used nothing but his mind.

  He closed his eyes, letting the fragmented codes and shifting encryption keys talk to him. As the machine whisperer, he could listen to machines and speak to them, using the conversation to gain limited control.

  At this moment, he spoke an intricate dialect of network handshakes, a syntax of ones and zeros, firewalls stuttering their denials—sentences crafted from intercepted signals.

  Somewhere in the Western Hemisphere, an unstable signal—a transmission degraded, distorted, filled with static.

  Cipher reached for it.

  The transmission whispered back.

  [DATA FRAGMENT RECOVERED]

  "By the Oracles' decree... [STATIC] ...by the Harbinger's vision, the hour is upon us."

  "You claim to serve the Awakening. Prove it."

  "Faith without action is a li—" [DISTORTION] "—if you believe, then bleed for it."

  "The path has been set. The trial begins now. You will walk it, or you will be erased."

  "The Harbinger speaks, and the universe obeys. The Key must be found."

  "The weak have no place here. If you falter, we will not mourn you. If you succeed, you will ascend."

  "You are Votaries of Cronus. That means you are already dead. Now, show the universe why it should fear your rebirth."

  [SIGNAL LOST]

  Cipher leaned back, massaging his temples with deliberate, kneading pressure to push the static away.

  He opened another line to Sibyl; the encryption took less than a second—his own personal recipe, layers deep, not even the most capable intelligence division could untangle it in real-time.

  "Cipher."

  Sibyl's voice cut through the channel—sharp, clipped.

  He was already busy with a dozen other things, Cipher could tell. But wasn't he always? The thought was followed by another, The cruel burden of all that processing power, and that's why I'm left overworked.

  "I was able to dig up some real treasure this time," he said, dragging his hands down his face. "The pain was so great, it delivered me to prayer." Cipher's hands pressed together, fingertips resting against his lips in silent contemplation.

  A pause. "Go on."

  "It mentioned the big bad and the Oracles barking on their leashes about a key. That is what they sent their minions looking for."

  Another pause. "Can you confirm what the key is for?"

  "Negative," Cipher admitted.

  Sibyl didn't sigh, didn't hesitate. "Then we need eyes on it."

  "Yeah, the siblings—"

  "Mirage and Reverie are occupied at Oasis," Sibyl interrupted. "They can't move."

  Cipher grimaced as his fingers traced small, tense circles on his scalp. The Oasis. Because nothing says "end of the world" like neon lights and slot machines. Would it kill fate to let him have a little fun too?

  "Specter?" he asked.

  "Fiji," Sibyl replied. "Hush put her on mandatory R&R after her last mission. Regardless, we'll need her to get eyes on what the key is."

  Cipher chuckled. "Yeah, she's gonna love that."

  "She'll be mad," Sibyl agreed. "But she won't have to leave the island and is the only one that can do it. This could bring us closer to taking down Cronus and the Harbinger."

  Cipher inhaled slowly, holding his breath for a count. "Alright. That gets us intel." He exhaled through his nose. He had already begun moving through his mental list of assets. "But are we really not sending anyone in to engage the zealots?"

  "Our forces on Earth are spread thin right now."

  Cipher's shoulders rose and fell in a measured rhythm as he focused on breathing, helping him stave off the headache brewing.

  An idea snapped into place.

  "Captain Gaia's unit is in range."

  Sibyl was quiet for half a second. "She's a Commander now, and won't do it if she knows we're involved."

  Cipher smirked. "Nope. She used to look out for us. Now? Tch... she's just Deretsun-neesan."

  "Then leak the info anonymously. Make it look like an internal IDF slip."

  Cipher inhaled the scent of peppermint, one of his many herbal remedies for his affliction. "You really know how to make the job fun, boss."

  "I do," he said, already closing the line. "Now get it done."

  The channel cut.

  Cipher cracked his knuckles, "I'm going to need some more lavender oil for my temple." He sipped his ginger tea and rolled his shoulders before diving back into the data stream. Time to let Captain Gaia 'accidentally' stumble onto something interesting.

  ☉☉☉

  Darkness. Crushing. Endless.

  Then—it was gone.

  No weight. No gravity. Just an empty drift into silence.

  Scar drifted into nothingness, his thoughts scattered like a dust in a storm. The heaviness vanished, replaced by an unsettling weightlessness—a limbo between existence and oblivion.

  Then came the pull. Insistent. Relentless.

  Dragging him back from the abyss.

  A heartbeat. Was it Scar's? Or something else's?

  Then, a voice. A compass for his disoriented thoughts.

  "She’s still out there; find her, save her."

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The words struck like a flare in the void, searing through the haze. Scar's body felt distant, sluggish—like waking from deep stasis. But the urgency in the voice—no, the inevitability—cut through his fatigue like a blade.

  Star.

  The memory surfaced, raw and half-formed. Scar reached for it, but it slipped through his grasp, elusive as mist. The harder he tried to hold on, the more it unraveled.

  A chill ran through him. Not from the fading recollection.

  Something echoed at the edge of his mind, a whisper he couldn't quite hear. The space around him felt vast and hollow—yet alive.

  Then—the sharp bite of brine filled his lungs.

  Fresh. Pungent. Laced with the sting of iron.

  His eyes snapped open. Titan's air was thick with smog. Enceladus' winds bit with cold. Iapetus' atmosphere hummed with static.

  But this place—this place was different. The warmth pressed against Scar's skin like a memory long lost.

  The voice whispered again, pulsing with each beat of his heart.

  "Don't worry if the world feels distant, or if the night sky mirrors that truth—unbothered by the world below."

  The stars above shone cold and aloof, casting their light over the crumbling outpost. Distant and unfeeling, they mirrored the hollow remnants of Scar's former self.

  "You're not as small and insignificant as they will think." The voice murmured, steady and calm. A challenge lurked beneath its words.

  Scar exhaled, struggling to adjust to the taste of seaweed and damp earth, the faint metallic tang of rust lingering on his tongue.

  This felt like a ghost story. A myth.

  And yet—he was here.

  "This feels too real to be a dream," he mumbled, shaking his head. "But I must be losing it—I keep hearing voices in my head."

  Scar stood alone, grit clinging to his boots as if the planet conspired to drag him into its sepulchral depths.

  Then, the voice wasn't just a whisper in his mind—not anymore. It wasn’t heard, not exactly, but clear nonetheless—woven into the air like a lingering ember in the dark.

  "You're awake at last."

  The thought wasn’t spoken—it bloomed within him, steady and unshakable.

  Scar stiffened. The warmth pressed closer, not heat, but a presence entangled into the very fabric of his existence.

  "I am Nova."

  The name rattled something deep within Scar, something he hadn’t realized was there.

  "And you, young one, carry my fire."

  Memories crashed into him—shattered glimpses of battle, the moment of his near-death, a beast wreathed in flames.

  The Dragon.

  A breeze brushed his face, not with menace, but a loving caress. The air was fresh, ocean-kissed—alive.

  "Scar, this isn't the Citadel. Or any of Saturn's moons."

  The voice coursed through him with a fiery wisdom.

  "We're sinking into the dust of Bermuda's forgotten coastline—once coveted, now discarded, like so many of Earth's broken relics."

  Scar's gaze swept over the landscape. Jagged rocks gleamed under silver moonlight. The ocean curled below, a restless serpent.

  His heart thundered.

  "Earth... the Blue Jewel."

  Could it really be?

  Concrete slabs jutting out of the earth like broken teeth, metal frames stripped by wind and sea. He was witnessing the ruins of a world he'd only known through fairy tales dressed as whispered warnings.

  I never thought I'd actually see it.

  The thought felt fragile—a single breath might shatter the illusion.

  The shoreline stretched endlessly before him, waves rolling in steady, unbroken rhythms.

  Sand—actual sand—curved along the coast, golden and untouched, glistening beneath the fractured sky.

  He swallowed hard, something twisting deep in his chest.

  “A beach…”

  The word felt foreign on his tongue. Unreal.

  Then—the memory hit him.

  Star’s voice was teasing but firm.

  “But you’d better not be imagining some paradise. I’m not spending the rest of my life lounging on some beach.”

  Scar let out a quiet breath, something like a laugh caught in his throat.

  “No beaches,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Just clear skies.”

  But as he stared at the vast expanse before him, he wondered if—just this once—she wouldn’t mind.

  Nova's voice drifted gently through his thoughts.

  "I understand. Reaching Earth has always been unattainable for those stranded in Saturn's orbit—a promise of what once was."

  Scar's eyes darted around, tension rippling through him.

  The stories spoke of endless green fields, forests thick with the bite of pine, and oceans stretching deeper and farther than the stars.

  His thoughts, still caught between awe and doubt, reached Nova.

  "Bittersweet stories of the Blue Jewel—The Cradle," Nova affirmed. "Myths passed down through generations for those on Saturn. A place lost to time, yes, but not without purpose. You’re here for more than survival—you're here to awaken a legacy and reclaim a lost shard of your own."

  Scar's heart pounded, and the fire in his chest burned hotter. A slow nod followed—hesitant, but resolute. The roar of waves filled his ears, the air thick with ocean spray and humidity.

  "It was all true."

  Every word of it—or at least, that's what he wanted to believe.

  And somehow, that made it hurt even more.

  "So, this is it... Earth"

  His thoughts raced. Star. What would everyone else think? Would they believe me? He had no way of knowing.

  A breath escaped his lips—a half-laugh, tinged with disbelief.

  Scar took it all in, flooded by a cascade of emotions—but the moment barely had time to settle before something else hit him—something deeper than awe, sharper than shock.

  The moist air was thick, and his clothes clung to his skin like a layer of damp armor. Every breath carried the ocean—salt-laced winds tangled with decay and forgotten time.

  His fingers traced the rough bark of the palmetto—the texture real, grounding, anchoring him to the moment.

  But beneath it—something shifted.

  Not in the wind. Not in the sounds of distant waves.

  Something in the air. In Scar's mind.

  A slow, curling sensation simmered at the edge of his awareness, like the first tremor before a quake.

  It wasn't awe. Not disbelief.

  Danger.

  Scar barely had a second to process before something clicked—an instinct that demanded action before thought.

  His breath caught—then Nova's voice cut through the tension

  "Scar, stay alert."

  A force pressing against his senses like a blade against his throat. The air was warm, but his skin prickled with a creeping cold.

  Something was there.

  The world hadn't changed. But suddenly—Scar knew.

  He turned sharply—west.

  Then—the force tore through him. Wild. Untamed. An electric current threading through his spine. His muscles tensed, his senses flared—but it wasn’t pain. It was something else.

  Bloodlust. Moving fast. Scattered.

  Reality was redefined. Not through sight. Not through sound.

  He felt it.

  Nova hummed, amused. "Good. Direction Awareness isn't bad—feeling anything else?"

  Scar exhaled sharply. There was no answer but an understanding.

  And then, he sensed something else.

  Closer.

  His gut clenched. The distance. A shadow in the periphery of his mind, not close, but closing in fast.

  Nova’s voice slithered into his thoughts. "And there’s Distance Perception—makes a difference, doesn’t it?"

  Scar staggered, forcing his breathing steady. His body was still—his mind, reeling.

  What—what is happening to me?

  "Good, Scar." Nova's voice wove through his thoughts, smooth and confident, but watching. Studying.

  "Don't fight it. Trust it."

  Numbers. Scar's mind clawing to keep up.

  Not just movement, but the shadows began to take shape. Not one. Not five. At least thirty—no, forty.

  Nova’s smirk bled through his words. "Numerical Clarity. You’re a natural."

  "What—is this?" Scar clenched his jaw. He didn't like it. Knowing wasn't the problem. It was the energy he felt draining away.

  The pulse sharpened—not all the shadowy threats were the same.

  Some were erratic. Panicked. Others? Cold. Calculating. Watching.

  Nova’s tone turned almost analytical. "Threat Differentiation. Understanding what's hunting you is the difference between acting and reacting."

  The pieces were falling into place.

  And finally—intent.

  The awareness twisted, filtering through the chaos. The ones pushing forward weren’t just hunting.

  They were being lured in.

  The side on the defensive was setting a trap.

  But clarity came with a price. His pulse thundered. His limbs felt heavy—his mind, raw. The world swayed—tilted—his balance wavered as if the stable ground shifted underfoot.

  Nova chuckled. "Intent Sensitivity. That moment when you realize you're not just watching the fight—you’re in it."

  Nova clapped his hands—at least, it felt like he did. "And that’s your grand introduction to Threat Detection!"

  "Not bad for your first time. It won't always be that rough on you. Another one of your Core Skills kicked in at the end, and your body was overloaded."

  Scar ran a hand down his face. "So instead of a tutorial screen, I just get to feel like my brain is short-circuiting?"

  Scar barely processed the flicker of approval before Nova pressed on. "No time to celebrate. Something is waiting for you up ahead—something that's been waiting a long time."

  Nova’s voice took on a mock-sympathetic tone. "Aw, my poor pupil. Would you prefer I explain it before you experience it? Because nothing says immersion like a good ol’ pre-fight lecture."

  Scar sighed. He should’ve known better than to ask.

  Scar barely processed the flicker of approval before Nova pressed on. "No time to celebrate. Something is waiting for you up ahead—something that's been waiting a long time."