"We will be soon departing for Beuno."
The smooth, synthesized chime of the automated announcement echoed clearly across the crowded boarding terminal, drawing reactions from every passenger waiting in the lounge.
A man rushed through the throng of people, his unkempt black hair slightly wild and his pale, tired gray eyes scanning the seating rows frantically.
"Sorry, can you please let me through?" he begged softly, dodging obstacles and navigating around groups of travelers.
He finally wove his way through the dense crowd, letting out a long, heavy sigh of relief as he slid into an empty spot on a plush leather sofa.
"I barely made it on time," he muttered to himself, adjusting his collar as he caught his breath. "The spaceship nearly left without me."
A man seated beside him leaned over, extending a open palm.
"Sir, you dropped this."
The gray-eyed man looked down, his eyes widening slightly as he recognized the folded silk handkerchief resting in the man's hand.
He reached out and snatched it back quickly, clutching it to his chest.
"Oh, I'm extremely grateful to you. This handkerchief is rather precious to me."
The other man offered a warm, easy smile, adjusting his posture.
"Don't worry, it's no big deal."
"You're too humble," the gray-eyed man said, folding the cloth neatly and slipping it back into his inner coat pocket.
The man extended his right hand in greeting.
"I'm Ralph. And you are...?"
The gray-eyed traveler reached out, grasping his hand for a firm handshake.
"Right. Nice to meet you, Sir Ralph. I'm Lucien."
"Pleasure's all mine, Sir Lucien. Are you also going to Beuno?" Ralph asked, adjusting his coat.
Lucien nodded softly, leaning back against the sofa cushions.
"Yes, I have some work there. It's unfortunate we can't go there through teleportation means, but nonetheless, a spatial journey is always welcomed."
Ralph let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"I like your optimism, but please understand, the people of Beuno value their culture and lifestyle above all else."
"Yes, I understand them," Lucien replied, his voice calm and agreeable.
Ralph studied Lucien's face closely, noticing the deep dark circles under his eyes.
"You look rather exhausted, Sir Lucien. Is everything alright?"
Lucien shook his head slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Everything is fine. I just wasn't able to sleep properly, that's all."
"Then you should rest during our journey," Ralph advised gently.
"I'll take your advice on this," Lucien replied with a weary chuckle.
Ralph shifted in his seat, looking out toward the glass terminal wall overlooking the launchpads.
"I'm also from Beuno myself. I got a good job here and wasn't able to meet my family for a while. I finally got some time, so I'm going to meet them."
Lucien smiled, giving a polite nod.
"May your family remain in good health. If you don't mind me asking, who's there in your family?"
"I have a rather small family," Ralph said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. "It's just my father and mother, my wife, and my five-year-old son."
Lucien's eyes widened a fraction.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a sleek, metallic disc-shaped device. He placed his open palm directly on top of it, activating its matrix; instantly, a small, shimmering blue spatial portal opened above the surface of the disc.
Ralph leaned in, his expression turning to shock.
"A high-level storage device, huh?"
Lucien gave a slight nod, tapping the edge of the spatial portal.
"Yeah, I had to save up quite a lot for this."
Reaching his fingers into the rift, Lucien pulled out a small, velvet-lined case, sealing the portal behind it.
He extended the case toward Ralph.
"Here."
Ralph stared at the case, making no move to take it.
"What is this, Sir Lucien?"
"This is a pair of contact lenses," Lucien explained gently. "Apparently, it works as an entire automated tutor and also helps a child along different developmental areas. You said your son was five, right? This would be of help to him."
Ralph immediately raised both hands in refusal, shaking his head.
"I can't take something like this, Sir Lucien! Please give it to someone else—perhaps someone in your family."
Lucien offered a gentle, reassuring smile.
"There isn't anyone that age in my family. And besides, it's of no use to me. You can consider this a sign of my gratitude for returning my handkerchief."
Ralph hesitated, staring at the velvet case before slowly reaching out to take it.
"I don't know if returning a handkerchief was worth a gift like this..."
Lucien looked him dead in the eye, his expression earnest.
"Even if returning the handkerchief wasn't worth it, your intention of doing good was. And that intention simply returned to you."
Lucien stood up smoothly, smoothing down his coat as the terminal gates began to open.
"It's almost time to depart then. I wish you good luck on your journey."
Ralph stood as well, clutching the small case tightly.
"Thank you very much! Then please be safe on your way to Beuno."
The passengers shuffled toward the boarding ramp leading to the massive vessel hovering just above the pad.
The spaceship was a colossal, perfectly circular cruiser, its exterior polished to a mirror finish and floating silently on anti-grav locks.
Stepping inside, the interior rivaled the sheer luxury.
The corridors were lined with deep velvet carpets, warm ambient lighting, and mahogany paneling.
Each passenger was assigned a sprawling, fully automated private master bedroom equipped with state-of-the-art climate controls, a personal lounge area, and expansive panoramic viewports looking out into the cosmos.
Lucien entered his assigned suite, the heavy door sliding shut and sealing out all sound.
He walked over to the oversized bed and sat down heavily on the mattress.
"Time to sleep, I guess," Lucien sighed softly, running a hand through his dark hair.
He laid back, rested his head against the pillow, and closed his eyes.
A considerable amount of time passed in absolute silence.
Suddenly, Lucien's eyes shot open.
A violent spike of spatial pressure tore through the room.
He bolted upright, swinging his legs off the bed, his instincts on maximum alert.
He looked around—the humming ambient sounds of the ship were a distant melody.
He stood up, his jaw clenching.
"There is no one on this ship... How weird."
He walked swiftly to the wide glass viewport, looking out into the endless expanse of black space.
The stars sat motionless as the spaceship kept moving.
Pushing the door control, he walked out into the main grand corridor.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, a terrifying, silent blur materialized in his peripheral vision.
BOOM!
A brutal, heavy kick shattered the air where his head had been a millisecond prior.
Lucien reacted instinctively, snapping his forearm up to block the incoming shin.
The kinetic force behind the strike was monstrous—even with the block, the sheer impact launched Lucien sideways, sending him crashing through two thick, reinforced titanium bulkhead walls before he slammed onto the deck of the adjacent lounge.
Lucien pushed himself up from the metallic debris, shaking dust from his hair, his arm throbbing.
He looked through the gaping hole in the wall.
"You're damaging the property."
A figure stepped out of the floating dust cloud, his long black cape fluttering dramatically behind his shoulders despite the lack of wind.
In his right hand, he carried a long, dark rectangular briefcase.
"Don't worry," Zazm said, his voice cold, level, and entirely devoid of emotion. "I'll pay for the damages."
Lucien stood at his full height, dusting off his coat.
"Nice to meet you, Supreme Commander Zazm."
Zazm stopped a few meters away, his piercing gaze locking onto Lucien.
"Can't say the feeling is mutual, Lucien. Or should I say... one of the five commanders of the False King, Nightmare?"
Lucien casually shrugged his shoulders, a tired smirk playing on his lips.
"Whatever you want to say. Both are me in the end."
Zazm shifted his weight, preparing to step forward and engage, when the reality around them violently fractured.
The luxurious corridor, the titanium walls, and the vessel itself vanished into thin air.
Zazm found himself standing in an absolute, pitch-black void.
He looked down—his legs were completely gone, replaced by solid, immovably rooted wooden logs extending down into the darkness.
Lucien's laugh echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Pretty cool, right? You can't do anything in this space."
Zazm glanced at his wooden limbs, his expression entirely unbothered.
"What kind of absurd ability is this?"
Lucien manifested a few feet in front of him, floating lazily in the void.
"I'm not stupid enough to tell my enemy how my ability works."
"Well, you're right," Zazm said quietly, his voice dangerously low. "But you said it yourself—this is a space."
Zazm raised his head, his eyes narrowing.
"This is not just any space. This is my domain, and inside it, everything happens as I wish."
Zazm closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
When he snapped them open, his sclera had turned an absolute pitch-black, and sharp, glowing white lines replaced his pupils.
CRACK!
The dark pocket reality shattered like brittle glass, the illusion collapsing instantly under the sheer weight of Zazm's overwhelming authority.
Reality snapped back together, placing both men right back inside the ruined corridor of the spaceship.
Lucien's eyes widened in genuine shock, taking an instinctive step back.
"How...?"
Zazm adjusted his grip on the briefcase, taking a calm step forward.
"You truly met your worst match in the entire universe."
Lucien's tired expression twisted into raw, surging anger.
"Just because my ability is rendered useless doesn't mean that you have won!"
Lucien vanished from sight.
In a fraction of a microsecond, he re-emerged directly in Zazm's face, his body rotating mid-air to drive a lethal, high-velocity kick straight toward Zazm's temple.
Zazm snapped his arm up, bringing the heavy rectangular briefcase between them as a shield.
CLANG!
The kick detonated against the briefcase with the force of a missile, sending a shockwave through the corridor.
Zazm didn't falter—he instantly countered with a blinding left jab.
Lucien ducked under the fist, his movement fluid and precise.
Grabbing Zazm's extended wrist with both hands, Lucien shifted his weight, planted his heels, and yeeted Zazm straight through three heavy structural walls.
Without losing a millisecond, Lucien closed the distance, rushing through the destroyed interior to catch Zazm off-guard with a follow-up flying knee.
But as he lunged, Zazm's hand shot out like a steel vise, grabbing Lucien by the ankle mid-flight.
Zazm spun on his heel and threw Lucien back across the hall.
Lucien flipped in mid-air, slamming his boots against the far wall to absorb the momentum.
Before he could push off, Zazm reappeared directly in front of him, his movement so fast it bypassed physical acceleration entirely.
Zazm drove a brutal, aura-infused kick straight into Lucien's stomach.
BOOM!
The sheer impact tore through Lucien's defenses, shattering the spaceship's main structural hull.
Lucien was launched like a projectile out of the ship, flying backward into the soundless vacuum of open space.
Zazm drifted out through the gaping tear in the hull, hovering in the void.
He raised the dark briefcase with both hands, holding it horizontally in front of his eyes.
"I wanted to try this," Zazm murmured into the vacuum. "Thanks for giving me the opportunity."
The briefcase instantly burst into glowing, intricate energy lines.
The metal rearranged, shifting and expanding, transforming within seconds into a majestic, dark blue spear.
The weapon crackled with unstable energy; its shaft was wrapped in metallic draconic scales, and its double-edged tip burned with a cold, celestial azure light.
Zazm wound his arm back and threw the spear with full, catastrophic force.
The spear tore through open space like a shooting star, leaving a trail of blue plasma.
Lucien, stabilizing himself in mid-space, saw the glowing projectile locking onto him.
With terrifying precision and martial mastery, Lucien reached out with both hands, catching the speeding shaft of the spear just inches from his chest.
The kinetic force pushed him back several hundred meters, but Lucien absorbed the momentum, spun his body 360 degrees in the vacuum, and hurled the spear right back at Zazm with even greater velocity.
Zazm caught the returning spear cleanly by the hilt without breaking stride.
Zazm launched himself forward, closing the distance instantly to engage Lucien in raw physical combat.
What followed was a blinding, horrific exchange of high-tier martial mastery in the dead silence of space.
Zazm thrust the spear forward—a sharp, lethal jab aimed straight at Lucien's throat.
Lucien leaned his head back by a hair's breadth, the glowing tip grazing his cheek, and immediately drove his palm straight into the shaft of the spear to redirect the strike.
Capitalizing on the opening, Lucien stepped inside Zazm's guard, delivering a lightning-fast three-strike combination: an elbow to Zazm's ribs, a palm strike to his chest, and an open-hand strike toward his chin.
Zazm blocked the first with his forearm, absorbed the second with his body, and ducked beneath the third, spinning the spear around his back to sweep Lucien's legs.
Lucien leapt into the air, flipping over the sweeping blade, and landed a heavy, heel-drop kick onto Zazm's shoulder.
Zazm gritted his teeth, unbothered by the blow, and thrust the butt of the spear upward into Lucien's chest.
Lucien crossed his forearms just in time to block, but the kinetic shockwave sent him skidding back across the vacuum.
Lucien recovered instantly, using the ambient spatial force to propel himself back into the fray.
He deflected Zazm's rapid-fire spear thrusts with precise, high-speed parries of his bare hands.
Strike after strike clashed—ten, twelve, fifteen rapid exchanges—each collision generating blinding flashes of shockwaves that rippled through the void.
Lucien dodged a wide, horizontal cleave, slipped past the guard, and landed a clean, solid right hook directly onto Zazm's jaw, sending the Supreme Commander sliding back.
Regaining his balance, Zazm wound his arm back and threw the spear once more with lethal speed.
Lucien shifted his weight, leaning his body sharply to the left—the dark blue spear whizzed past his shoulder, missing him by millimeters.
Lucien immediately snapped his eyes forward to attack, but Zazm was gone.
The space in front of him was completely empty.
Before Lucien could react or turn around, a sharp, cold agony burst through his chest.
PZT!
Lucien coughed up a violent spray of blood, his vision swimming as he looked down at his own stomach.
A blood-soaked arm, clad in black, had driven straight through his back and pierced entirely through his torso from behind.
Zazm hovered right behind him, his dark sclera glowing faintly in the shadow of space, his hand firmly embedded in Lucien's core.
"Are you done?" Zazm asked, his voice cold, steady, and devoid of exhaustion.
Lucien breathed heavily, thick trails of crimson floating from his lips into the vacuum as he gripped Zazm's wrist with his trembling hands.
"I truly... met my worst match," Lucien choked out, a bitter, painful smile appearing on his pale face.
Zazm smoothly pulled his hand back out from Lucien's chest, dark crimson clinging to his fingers before dissolving into thin air.
Without missing a beat, he caught the collapsing commander by his collar before he could float away into the vacuum of space.
Shifting his stance, Zazm placed his other hand flat over the ragged, gaping hole in Lucien's torso.
A cold, soft pulse of translucent aura rippled outward from his palm.
Immediately, the shredded flesh, muscle fibers, and shattered bone began to twist, knit, and fuse back together, sealing seamlessly until the wound was fully mended, leaving only torn fabric behind.
Lucien remained completely unconscious, his head slumping forward, his breathing shallow and faint.
Zazm slung the limp body over his broad shoulder like a sack of grain and turned back toward the floating wreckage of the spaceship.
---
Central HQ, District 1
Jennie walked through the sweeping, grand corridors of the upper command sector, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor.
Her pristine ivory uniform caught the brilliant, streaming sunlight that poured through the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass wall that ran along the entire edge of the concourse, illuminating the sprawling futuristic skyline beyond.
Beside her, Supreme Commander Lorriel adjusted the collar of her own formal uniform, her long mantle fluttering slightly as they walked side by side.
Lorriel glanced over, her tone carrying a mixture of surprise and skepticism.
"You actually have free time today?"
Jennie let out a bright, refreshing smile, resting her hands behind her back as she matched Lorriel's pace.
"I can't believe it myself either! I finally cleared out my entire backlog of field reports."
Lorriel sighed, unbuttoning her high collar and carefully folding her sleeves up her forearms.
"Free time has become a complete myth for me ever since I took this damn job. The paperwork alone is trying to kill me."
Jennie laughed softly, tilting her head.
"But don't you enjoy it?"
Lorriel stopped walking for a fraction of a second, looking at Jennie before a rare, faint smile touched her lips.
"Perhaps I do."
Suddenly, a subtle shifting of air cut through the ambient quiet.
Jennie's ears twitched.
She heard the faint, precise click of a heel directly behind her.
She turned her head slightly backwards, and her eyes instantly widened.
Zazm was standing right there, looming just inches away from her shoulder, holding a limp body over his arm.
"KYAAA—!"
Jennie jumped back a full three paces, her hands flying up to her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs.
She stuttered, pointing an accusing finger at him.
"Z-Zazm?! Where—where did you even come from?!"
Lorriel stopped in her tracks and turned around smoothly, her sharp eyes locking onto him.
"Say, Zazm..."
Zazm looked up at Lorriel, his face utterly emotionless, like a carved piece of stone.
"You do it on purpose, right?" Lorriel spoke, her gaze turning cold and serious.
"What?" Zazm replied, his voice flat, level, and completely devoid of warmth.
Lorriel crossed her arms, leaning slightly closer.
"The part where you teleport right behind people just to jumpscare them."
Zazm stared at her, not a single twitch on his face, his tone remaining deadpan.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Jennie caught her breath, looking back and forth between Lorriel's stern scowl and Zazm's blank stare.
"Wait... so this wasn't your first time doing it?!"
Lorriel ignored Zazm's denial and took a step forward, her sharp eyes shifting down to the unconscious man draped over his shoulder.
"Who's that frail man on your shoulder?"
"He's the reason I'm here," Zazm said plainly.
Without a shred of gentleness, Zazm unceremoniously rolled Lucien off his shoulder and let him drop onto the polished floor with a dull, heavy THUD.
Jennie's eyes flared with slight anger,she crossed her arms.
"Zazm! Don't throw another human being on the ground like that!"
Zazm didn't blink.
He casually extended a finger, pointing down at the unmoving body.
"This is one of the Remnant King's aides."
The light atmosphere instantly evaporated.
Both Jennie and Lorriel froze, their eyes widening in shock.
Lorriel's head snapped up.
"What do you mean?!"
"This is Nightmare," Zazm answered plainly.
Lorriel immediately crouched down beside the body, her fingers brushing aside the messy dark hair falling over Lucien's face.
Up close, the dark circles under his eyes were prominent against his pale, bloodless skin.
He looked remarkably young, almost fragile.
Lorriel frowned, studying his features.
"Are you sure you're not mistaken? This pretty boy here is one of the five commanders of the False King? The Nightmare?"
Zazm gave a single, slight nod.
Lorriel didn't hesitate.
She reached down and swiftly unbuttoned Lucien's shirt, exposing his chest.
She placed her open palm directly over his heart and closed her eyes, channeling a fine thread of diagnostic energy deep into his circulatory system and core.
A heavy silence hung over the corridor.
After a long moment, Lorriel snapped her eyes open, standing up straight as she wiped her hand.
"He is an Omega Star, alright," Lorriel confirmed, her voice dead serious.
Jennie gasped, stepping closer to inspect him.
"How did you even catch him?! Are you okay?! What happened out there?!"
Before Zazm could open his mouth, Lorriel raised a hand, interjecting with a subtle smirk.
"Don't worry, Jennie. The one you should be asking those questions to is the man on the ground."
She turned her head toward Zazm, appraising him from head to toe.
"You really broke him bad... knocked him out black and blue, huh?"
Zazm adjusted his black cape, his eyes fixed on the distant wall.
"I wasn't going to risk him pulling some last-minute bullshit."
Lorriel chuckled softly, leaning her hip against the glass railing.
"Well... I'm curious, though. You captured an Omega Star threat, and you barely have a single scratch on yourself."
"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Jennie agreed, gesturing frantically toward Zazm's pristine uniform.
Zazm looked at both of them.
"Do you know this guy's power?"
Jennie paused, rubbing her chin as she searched her memory.
"There is barely any knowledge on Nightmare. Out of all the False King's commanders, he has appeared only like twice in recorded field reports. His abilities are completely unknown—only his alias is what we know."
"I heard a while back that he has some high-tier illusionary powers, similar to yours," Lorriel added, narrowing her eyes at Zazm.
"Really?" Jennie blinked.
"It's not an illusion," Zazm said, his voice cutting through the speculation.
"This guy has the ability to drag people into his own mind. To be precise, he drags their consciousness into a dream world, which is his own separate pocket space. He can manipulate and control everything inside it. Once you enter that space, your loss is guaranteed."
Jennie leaned forward, utterly bewildered.
"Then how...?"
"I said he drags them to his space," Zazm interrupted calmly.
He lifted his right hand, slowly curling his fingers into a tight, absolute fist.
"But all space can be manipulated."
Lorriel's eyes flashed with realization.
"So that's why it was such a one-sided fight..."
Jennie shivered slightly, looking down at Lucien.
"So this guy kills your consciousness entirely by dragging you into his dreamworld..."
Zazm gave a slow nod.
"He is an extremely important specimen," Lorriel said, her tone shifting into that of a commanding commander.
"I'll put a Vana suppression device on him immediately and get him locked up in the deep containment wing."
Zazm nodded passively, turning his gaze back out toward the massive window overlooking the city skyline.
Lorriel bent down, effortlessly hauled Lucien's limp body over her shoulder, and adjusted his weight.
She grunted slightly, mumbling under her breath.
"How can a man be so light? Is this even a man...?"
She turned to walk toward the elevator bay when Zazm's cold voice stopped her.
"Miss Lorriel, can I ask you something?"
Lorriel stopped in her tracks, glancing back over her shoulder.
"Go on."
Zazm kept his hands tucked behind his cape, his eyes staring out into the vast horizon.
"Vana... abilities. Where do you think all of it is stored?"
Lorriel paused, placing a hand on her hip as she considered the question seriously.
"Well, for starters, the ability manifests through the physical body. Vana is the energy required to activate and drive it. Remnants produce Vana inside their bodies constantly using their crystalline organs... While for us, our AMI marks handle that process."
"You're right," Zazm said calmly.
"But the abilities aren't coded in the physical body. They are coded in the consciousness."
Lorriel turned around fully, her brow furrowing.
"What do you mean?"
Jennie stood silently between them, listening intently to every word.
"Abilities are engraved directly into the consciousness... or the soul, whatever you choose to call it," Zazm explained, his tone measured and analytical.
"We simply cannot draw them out through our physical bodies without Vana acting as the medium or fuel."
Lorriel stood completely still, her analytical mind processing the concept.
"That's... actually a very strong possibility. If that's true, it would also explain why the stronger an individual gets, the more their physical lifespan increases."
"The more an ability is channeled through the physical body, the stronger the consciousness becomes," Zazm continued, his voice echoing softly in the grand corridor.
"And a strengthened consciousness continually reinforces and fortifies the physical body."
Lorriel's eyes lit up with intellectual intrigue.
"That is some incredibly important theoretical information, Zazm! Why don't you publish a research paper on it?"
"That's not what I'm interested in," Zazm replied flatly, his face unchanged.
"And I'm not done."
Lorriel smiled slightly, nodding.
"My apologies. Continue."
Before Zazm could speak, Jennie raised her hand slightly, her eyes wide with a sudden realization.
"Wait! Zazm... then if someone is in an astral form, or operating purely in their consciousness form, are they able to use their abilities without any limits since they don't need Vana to fuel it?!"
Zazm nodded smoothly.
"Exactly."
Both Lorriel and Jennie stared at him, their eyes widening in shock as the terrifying implications settled in.
"However," Zazm added, his voice dropping an octave, "it is normally impossible to exist purely in that state. No ordinary living being can exist solely as a consciousness in the physical world."
"That's true," Lorriel agreed, her expression turning grave.
"However," Zazm continued, stepping toward the glass wall, "the stronger one's consciousness becomes, the thinner the barrier becomes between the consciousness and the physical form."
Jennie stepped closer, her curiosity peaked.
"What do you mean by that?"
"The stronger the consciousness becomes, the stronger your overall existence grows," Zazm explained, staring at his reflection in the glass.
"Eventually, there comes a time where an individual reaches the ultimate pinnacle... and becomes one with their consciousness and soul."
Lorriel took a sharp breath, her hands clenching.
"Those who reach that realm... wouldn't need Vana to use their powers at all, right?"
"Right," Zazm nodded, his cold eyes reflecting the harsh sunlight.
"Aside from that, their physical lifespan would increase by thousands upon thousands of years."
Lorriel's breath caught in her throat.
"The King... and the False King..."
Zazm gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Yes. They have already reached that realm. The Realm of Singularity—where they are no longer bounded or restricted by Vana. Their physical bodies are so profoundly reinforced that they cannot even be pierced by the sharpest weapons in existence. No poison in the universe can have any effect on them. The only ones capable of harming or killing them... are those who stand in the exact same realm."
_____________________