You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.

Friedrich Nietzsche

I'm only ten, alone on the mean streets of Cali.

Mom's slinging hash for a double at the diner, and Dad's three sheets to the wind. Getting home from school is my problem now. I duck into the alley off 8th, past the grimy bodega that's always as empty as a broke man's wallet.

A mutt, all muscle and teeth, has been dogging my steps for blocks. I try to shoo it off, even chunk a rock its way, but the damn thing's as stubborn as it is ugly. It's pressing close now, snapping at my heels as I cut down the alley. I'm just a scrawny kid, and this brute's nearly as big as me.

I pick up the pace, trying to shake the mutt, when a rusty gate squeals behind me. I whirl around to see some half-baked gangbanger fresh off a night's work, cracking open a forty. He spots me, then the dog, and his face splits into a grin that'd make the devil proud.

"That your mutt, kid?" he slurs, sloshing beer down his front.

I shake my head, my heart hammering like a jackhammer. The dog's eyeing me like I'm prime rib, and this joker thinks it's comedy hour. He lets out a bark of laughter that sounds like gravel in a blender. "Better run, then!"

He douses the dog with beer, the sour stench of old malt hitting my nostrils. In a heartbeat, the mutt goes from curious to killer, a growl rumbling deep in its chest like distant thunder. I take off down the alley like there's hellhounds on my heels—and maybe there are.

The memory fades, replaced by cold, hard reality.

I don't know why that memory sucker-punches me as I watch the Reaver's blade descend, starlight dancing off it like a galaxy gone nova.

They say when you're staring down the barrel of death, your life flashes before your eyes. A greatest hits compilation of triumphs and regrets, all crammed into the space between one heartbeat and your last.

But sometimes, it's not your whole life that comes rushing back.

Sometimes, it's just one moment, sharp as a razor and twice as mean. A single memory that cuts through the chaos, as out of place as a nun in a strip club.

And I get what my mind's trying to tell me.

Move, you imbecile.

I hit the deck a split second before the deadly arc whistles through the space where my neck just was.

"Shield him, March!" Dan's voice rings out behind me. The girl steps up, her hand tracing a circle in the air like she's firing an invisible gun. Blue and pink sparks dance from her fingertips.

"Not today, you don't!" she shouts, pulling her make-believe trigger. A shimmering barrier springs to life around me just as the second Reaver's blade comes swooping in for the kill. The blade hits an invisible wall, distorting the air before bouncing off like it's made of rubber.

I don't waste time pondering the impossible. I charge the nearest Reaver, adrenaline singing in my veins. It's ready for me, one arm cocked back, the other up to guard.

I know I'm playing with fire, getting up close and personal with those bladed arms. But with enough juice pumping through my system to light up Vegas, danger's just a four-letter word. I close the gap, plant my feet like I'm growing roots, and twist my whole body into the punch. My fist connects with its metal helmet, and I swear I can feel my knuckles leaving dents.

March's magic shield keeps the Reaver's attacks at bay while I go to town on its chrome dome. My fist carves into its face with surgical precision, and the thing goes flying back into the shadows like it's been shot out of a cannon. It doesn't get back up.

I pivot to face the second Reaver, still reeling from its buddy's beatdown. It catches on too late. Instead of the haymaker I gave its pal, I introduce this one to my uppercut. Its feet leave the ground, and if we were in a smaller room, it'd be wearing the ceiling like a hat. But in this cavernous chamber, it just sails off into the gloom, lost to sight.

I stand there, sucking wind, every nerve in my body singing like a live wire.

What in the ever-loving hell just happened?

My reflexes, my strength, my speed... it's like someone cranked my dial past eleven and broke off the knob. I gulp down air, trying to steady myself, before turning to face Dan and March.

"That was unbelievable!" The girl's practically bouncing. "I've never seen anyone—hey!"

I'm already halfway down the next corridor before she can finish her thought.

"Wait!" Dan's voice echoes after me. "We're here to help!"

I keep moving, frustration building like a pressure cooker.

You're not real. You're not real. You're not real!

I burst into a chamber so vast it makes the Reaver battleground look like a broom closet. My eyes strain to take in the sheer scale of it. It's like I've stumbled onto the set of some big-budget sci-fi flick, only this ain't no movie. The ceiling vanishes into inky blackness, upper levels and stairs swallowed by shadows. Walls stretch endlessly on either side, lined with eerie blue strips that cast more gloom than light.

Dead center, a lone elevator waits like bait in a trap, connected to my platform by a bridge that screams danger. It's wide enough, sure, but with no rails on either side, one wrong step means a one-way trip to whatever nightmare waits below. Hidden machines rumble far beneath, a grim reminder of the fate awaiting any unlucky bastard who slips.

The elevator doors groan open with a sound like tortured metal. Four hulking figures step out, armor glinting dully, curved blades hungry for blood. Reavers. Again.

No time to think, only react. I can't take all four, not unless I've got a death wish. Instead of playing hero, I leap to a lower platform, five meters down. The metal grating protests under my feet as I land in a crouch, ready to bolt.

Dan and March's shouts echo behind me, bouncing off the cavernous walls. A quick glance shows two Reavers keeping them busy, blades flashing like deadly fireworks. The other two drop down, hot on my trail, their boots clanging a funeral march on the walkway.

I run like the devil himself is chasing me, heart threatening to burst from my chest. Up stairs, across ramps, always climbing higher, searching for any way out of this steel maze. The Reavers are relentless, their heavy footfalls a constant reminder of how close death stalks.

They pull a fast one, leaping from below to cut me off. Suddenly I'm trapped, one chrome-plated killer in front, one behind. Pure instinct takes over. I charge the one blocking my path. As its blade arcs down to split me in two, I drop and slide between its legs like a baserunner stealing home.

The whistle of steel slicing air tells me how close that call was. I'm on my feet and moving before the Reaver can even turn around. I sprint for the platform's edge and jump, easily clearing the gap to the next ledge up. With a grunt of desperation, I haul myself over the edge.

The second Reaver follows, making a leap that'd put an Olympic long-jumper to shame. But I'm ready, waiting just out of sight near the platform's far edge. As it lands, blind to the danger, I lash out with a kick that would make my old MMA coach nod in grim approval. The Reaver stumbles back, right into its partner who'd just made the jump. They collide with a sound like a junkyard avalanche and topple off the edge, plummeting into the abyss below.

I gulp down air, trying to slow my jackhammer pulse as I scan the room from my new perch. Movement catches my eye – March and Dan, working their way up from the lower levels. Seems they handled their dance partners just fine.

I'm about to make tracks when a sound freezes me in place. It's distant, but unmistakable – a deep, bone-shaking rumble that's equal parts enraged beast and malfunctioning heavy machinery. The entire room trembles, and icy fingers of dread crawl up my spine.

Whatever's making that ungodly racket, I want no part of it.

My moment of hesitation costs me. Dan and March catch up, March's hand closing around mine with surprising strength.

"We need to move. Now!" she says, urgency clear in her voice.

For once, I don't argue. We run, the rumbling growing louder with each step, vibrations threatening to shake my teeth loose. I chance a look back, half-expecting to see some Lovecraftian horror burst through the wall. But there's nothing visible – just that soul-chilling roar and the clank of distant, angry metal.

We stumble into a hallway bathed in harsh light. Dan's expression is grim as he turns to face us. "Priority one: find the researchers. To do that, we need Arlan, head of security. And if I'm right about what's making that noise..." He trails off, leaving the implication hanging like a guillotine blade.

His eyes lock onto mine. "Look, I know you're in over your head here. But we need all hands on deck. There are lives at stake."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The adrenaline high fades, reality crashing back in.

This can't be real. He's not real. None of this is. But it feels real. Too real. The doubt gnaws at me, and I fight the urge to chew my lip raw. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

March must see the conflict written all over my face. She jumps in, her voice gentle. "Hey, I get it. This is a lot to take in. But we've got friends who can help explain – Miss Himeko and Mr. Yang, from our crew on the Astral Express. They can answer your questions."

She smiles, all earnest reassurance. "And if you're looking for anyone – family, friends – Dan and I will do everything we can to find them. Promise."

At the mention of family and friends, something inside me twists painfully. My face must betray me because March's smile falters.

You won't find them, I think bitterly. They're not here. They were never here.

It's a mind-bender, having a character from a game try to reassure me. The genuine concern in March's eyes - a swirl of aquamarine and lilac - only twists the knife, blurring the lines between reality and fiction until I can't tell which way is up. I swallow hard, pushing down the lump in my throat.

"Thanks for the offer," I manage, my voice rough as sandpaper. "But let's focus on finding this Arlan guy and getting to safety. I'll follow your lead."

I don't have the juice to argue or try to make sense of any of this circus. Survival first, existential crisis later. March and Dan exchange a look loaded with meaning, but mercifully don't push. With a curt nod, Dan takes point and we're off, the station's distant rumbles nipping at our heels.

Our footsteps echo through the maze of hallways as we race to find the remaining researchers. The sterile walls and floors blur together, all looking the same. Every so often we burst into a central chamber vast enough to fit a basketball stadium. Ceilings disappear into darkness hundreds of feet above, while bridges and platforms crisscross the open space. Far below, the ship's engines rumble, the vibrations traveling up through my feet.

After what feels like a marathon through hell, we hit pay dirt. A section of the station that stands out like a sore thumb. A large room with windows, packed with enough tech to make NASA jealous. Heavy blast doors block the entrance, but I catch movement inside.

Dan rushes to the doors, pounding on them urgently. "Is anyone in there?" he calls out, his voice carrying down the empty corridor.

A young voice answers, and the doors slide open with a hiss. Inside stands a guy who looks like he's been through a meat grinder. Olive skin, white hair, and one purple eye - the other hidden behind a patch. Relief floods his face when he clocks us. Behind him, a gaggle of researchers huddle like spooked rabbits, most sporting injuries, the rest looking like they've seen a ghost.

"Thank goodness you're here," he starts, wincing as he steps aside. "I'm Arlan, head of security. You're from the Astral Express, right?" Dan nods, and some of the tension bleeds out of Arlan's face. "Good. I'll cut to the chase—the attack started about two hours ago. I've been following Miss Asta's orders to protect the researchers, but we got our asses handed to us."

He spins a tale of security units scattered throughout the station, him leading one into the thick of it. But they were outgunned and outmanned by the Anti-matter Legion and their pet monsters, the Trampler class Voidrangers. They bled bodies in the retreat, Arlan barely scraping together enough survivors to hole up here.

"I'm worried about Asta," he admits, his voice strained. "There have been reports of a Doomsday Beast joining the attack on the station."

I can't help it. I laugh. It's too much, like I've stumbled into a B-movie sci-fi flick. Everyone turns to stare, a mix of confusion and annoyance painting their faces.

March steps forward, concern evident in her expression. "Let me help with those injuries, Arlan. They look serious."

That's putting it mildly. Arlan's favoring his left leg like it's made of glass, and his right arm hangs useless, wrapped in a blood-soaked rag.

But he shakes his head, stubborn as a mule. "No time for first aid. Now that we've got backup, we need to hit the command room and find Asta."

The blast doors behind us start to rattle like they're caught in an earthquake. The sound of heavy footsteps and clanking metal grows louder by the second. Suddenly, they dent inward with a boom that damn near bursts my eardrums. March yelps, leaping back like a startled cat.

"Eliminator class Voidrangers," Dan snarls, hand flying to his weapon. "They're trying to break in."

Arlan jerks his head towards a smaller door on the far side. "Time for plan B. Move it, people!"

Another dent forms in the doors, the whole room shuddering under the assault.

"Go, go!" Dan yells. We bolt as the doors explode inward, a roar straight out of a nightmare hot on our heels. I don't look back, just run like my ass is on fire, dozens of panicked bodies ahead of me. I've somehow ended up bringing up the rear, while Arlan, Dan, and March play shepherd at the front of the flock.

But Lady Luck's decided to take a smoke break. At the end of the hall, a new horror show unfolds. I gape as I make out hulking Voidrangers flanking a beast that looks like it crawled out from one of H.R. Giger's fever dreams.

Dan's expression darkens. "Eliminators and a Trampler. This situation just got much worse."

The Eliminators are walking tanks, their armor a void-black nightmare with pulsing violet veins. Helmets sharp enough to cut glass top off the look. They're packing heat - cannons big enough to make you question your life choices, humming with enough thermal energy to cook a steak at fifty paces.

But it's their four-legged friend that's got my stomach doing backflips. This thing's huge, making the Eliminators look like toy soldiers. It's like some mad scientist crossbred a spaceship with a centaur, then pumped it full of steroids. Sickly gray flesh bulges with unnatural muscle, metal enhancements glinting dully in the harsh light. As it clocks us, it rears up and lets loose a shriek that damn near liquefies my spine.

March conjures a crystalline bow out of thin air, arrow nocked and ready to fly. "This is so not fair, all of you against us! Dan, what's the game plan?"

Dan raises his lance, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. "They outnumber us, and we have civilians to protect. If we make a stand here, we're in serious trouble."

A circular drone zips out from behind the Eliminators just as they're about to fire. Its black crescent blades whirl in a deadly blur, ripping through metal like it's tissue paper. The creatures' agonized screeches pierce the air, setting my teeth on edge. They thrash and fall, but the Trampler isn't done yet. It lets out an eerie battle cry that chills my blood, then leaps into the air, aiming to crush the drone with its massive legs.

But the little machine's too quick. It weaves away, pulling a tight U-turn before launching into another spin. This time, it takes out one of the Trampler's arms. The beast's scream of pain makes me want to cover my ears.

"It's Himeko's drone!" March's voice rings out, hope rising like a tide. "She must be nearby!"

We don't waste the chance. We race past the writhing Voidrangers, the drone keeping them busy so they can't chase us.

Another set of heavy blast doors blocks our path. Arlan's fingers fly over a nearby panel, and they slide open with a hiss. The space station's Master Control zone unfolds before us, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.

It's all sleek curves and high-tech grandeur. Immaculate silvery-white floors stretch into the distance under soft light. A massive holographic orb dominates the center, pouring out light that fractures into a thousand colors. They dance on the walls, making the whole place feel alive. Glass and metal walls curve up and away, offering a view of the void beyond. Stars and galaxies spread out before us, more than I ever dreamed existed.

Panels and consoles break up the sides, their screens a dizzying array of cryptic data and star charts. Dozens of uniformed researchers man them, all business despite the chaos.

A lone figure sits before the orb, back to us. As we approach, I see it's a young woman with fair skin. Her outfit stands out – a collared white shirt with loose, detached sleeves and ruffles. A black skirt with gold accents peeks out from under a purple overcoat. Around her waist is an unzipped pink and white jacket with more buckles and belts than seem necessary. She turns, and I catch a glimpse of pink hair framing light blue eyes.

I hang back as Arlan approaches her, March and Dan following close. Despite the chaos around us, she exudes an aura of calm authority.

"Miss Asta," Arlan says, relief evident in his voice. "I'm glad to see you're unharmed."

As Arlan recounts the situation in the Seclusion and Storage zones, I stay near the rescued researchers, observing from afar.

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye. A striking figure with long, captivating red hair strides towards us, carrying herself with an air of confidence and poise.

Recognition hits me like a punch to the gut. That's Himeko.

She's a well-known character from the game. With her keen intellect and motherly demeanor, she had gained quite the following. Her fair complexion, waist-length wavy red hair, golden eyes, and striking outfit – a white, sleeveless toga gown dress with a high slit along the right side, topped with a black coat lined with gold – make for a stunning picture.

For a split second, I find myself admiring her beauty and elegance. But the feeling fades fast, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease in my gut.

She's not real, Alexander. None of this is. What the hell are you even looking at?

Himeko approaches Dan and March, wrapping the latter in a warm embrace. "I'm so relieved to see you both safe," she says, her voice laced with genuine affection.

March and Dan return the sentiment, visibly relaxing in Himeko's presence. Dan's expression turns grave as he asks, "Where's Mr. Yang?"

Before Himeko can answer, that same deep, ominous rumble echoes through the chamber. It's louder this time, closer. The researchers around me flinch. Some drop to the floor like they're trying to hide from the boogeyman.

Then, through the glass and metal walls, an enormous, nightmarish form appears.

Ah... that would be the Doomsday Beast. Because of course it is.

It's massive, an otherworldly monster with a predominantly white and blue color scheme. Its features are sharp and angular, like some kind of crystalline or armored exoskeleton. Glowing blue accents pulse with an eerie light, and ethereal wings of energy sprout from its back. It's beautiful in a terrifying, alien way.

I can't look away from the horrifying sight. Fear and a sick sort of fascination war in my gut as the Beast lets out an earth-shaking roar.

Asta turns to address us all, her voice calm but brooking no argument. "You need to take the researchers and get aboard the Astral Express in the Supply Zone immediately." She pauses, then adds with chilling finality, "I'll stay behind."

Arlan hesitates for a heartbeat, but nods. He knows the score. March, though, looks like she wants to argue. "But...!"

Himeko cuts her off, taking her hand. "We have to go. Now." She turns to the rest of us, her golden eyes hard. "Follow me, quickly! We'll take point and protect you while we make our way to the Supply Zone."

With that, she's off, Dan and Arlan close behind. I fall in with the researchers as we hurry through the corridors. The Doomsday Beast's roars echo all around us, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

As we run, questions keep hammering at my brain: How can this be happening? How can any of this be real? The panic around me feels genuine, the danger palpable. Could I have been wrong? Is this more than just some vivid, messed-up dream? If I have to assume this is all actually happening, that opens up a whole new can of worms.

What happened to me? Why am I here, of all places?

The existential questions evaporate as I zero in on the scene unfolding before me. We've reached the docking platform where the infamous Astral Express waits. Salvation in the form of a gleaming train of ebony and gold.

If only it were that easy.

A horrible crash thunders through the cavernous room. Metal screams as one of the far walls buckles inward, a massive shape lurching out of the smoke and rubble. The Doomsday Beast looms over us, making us seem like ants scurrying at its feet. Spikes cover its armor, wicked and sharp under the harsh lights. Glowing blue lines trace complex patterns over its body, like veins pulsing with alien energy. Terror freezes me in place as I gape at the monstrosity.

Dan's shout snaps me back to reality. "Miss Himeko! How long before Mr. Yang arrives? We need his help!"

"He's guarding the rest of the ship!" Himeko has to scream over the Beast's roar. "We're on our own for now!"

Dan's face darkens, but his jaw sets with determination. He turns to Arlan and the researchers. "Get to safety! We've got this!"

Arlan opens his mouth to argue, but March cuts him off, begging him to respect Asta's orders. Scowling yet understanding, he leads the rest of the group away from the fight.

Meanwhile, I'm rooted to the spot, thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, as the trio readies to engage the Beast. It feels surreal, like watching movie heroes brace for a final stand, but this is undeniably happening. Dazed, I don't dodge in time when one of the monster's limbs lashes my way. March's cry comes too late.

"Watch out!"

The impact slams into me like a freight train, sending me flying across the room. I crash into a wall with a sickening crunch, my body leaving a dent in the metal as I hang there, suspended by the force of the collision.

Pain detonates through me, shattering what feels like bones and thoughts alike. It's all I can do to suck in a ragged breath as I lay there, pinned to the wall like some twisted butterfly specimen.

I should be dead.

That blow should have killed me instantly. No human could survive that kind of force. And yet, here I am, alive and... not well, but alive. How is that possible?

Unless... I'm already dead?

The realization hits me like a second blow. The accident, the crash... I died then, didn't I? Could this be some twisted afterlife, some cruel cosmic joke?

But if that's true, then why does this pain feel so real? Why do I feel every aching throb, every searing jolt? Can't you escape sensation, even in death?

The sounds of battle drag me from my spiraling thoughts. I force my eyes open, blinking away the spots dancing in my vision. Below me, Himeko, Dan, and March are locked in desperate combat with the Doomsday Beast.

They move like dancers in a deadly ballet, weaving in and out of range of the monster's attacks. Dan thrusts with his lance, seeking weak points in the Beast's armor. March fires arrow after arrow, each one finding its mark with unerring precision. And Himeko's drone darts and spins, a whirling dervish of metal and energy.

But for all their skill, for all their bravery, it's clear they're outmatched. The Beast is too strong, too resilient. Their attacks are like pinpricks to its armor, barely scratching the surface.

All it will take is one mistake, one moment of inattention or fatigue, and it will be over. One swipe of those massive claws, one blast of that unholy energy, and they'll be nothing more than smears on the floor.

"Himeko, watch out!" March cries as the beast lunges forward, its claws open wide.

The red-haired woman leaps back just in time, the beast's attack missing her by inches. She lands in a crouch, her face set in grim determination, her black drone retaliating in a whirlwind.

I attempt to move, but the agony remains overwhelming, flooding my senses. Amidst the torment, one thought takes shape, cutting through the haze of pain like a knife.

"Son of a bitch," I groan, tasting blood. "Did that thing just... did it seriously just punch me into a wall?"

The absurdity of it all hits me, and I let out a pained laugh. I've beaten people black and blue for less than this. Hell, I've put guys in the hospital for looking at me wrong.

Anger suddenly floods through my veins, and I welcome it. Rage is an old friend, far more comfortable than this existential nightmare I've been living.

"Alright, you oversized CGI reject," I mutter through gritted teeth. "Let's dance."

Somehow, the pain begins to subside, enough for me to push myself up from the crumpled heap I've become. The world seems to move in slow motion as I survey my surroundings. I spot a nearby platform, not too far from where I'm lodged in the wall. With a grunt, I slide down, landing on the metal surface with a thud.

Fallen security guards lie around me, their bodies lost in the havoc until now. They must have died when the attack began. I don't waste time mourning them, just check their gear for anything I can use.

Bingo.

I spot a pair of futuristic pistols, sleek and ivory white, clutched in their lifeless hands. I have no idea what kind of ammo they use—plasma, maybe?—but the triggers are familiar enough. I snatch them up, along with a couple of smoke grenades identifiable by the cloud-shaped warning logo on their exterior.

As I rise, a glint catches my eye. There, at the top of the Doomsday Beast's head, floats an orb. Could it be a weak point?

Only one way to find out.

I lob a smoke grenade at my feet, counting down the seconds until detonation, taking aim, squeezing the triggers with pinpoint precision. The orb shatters under the barrage, and the beast lets out an agonized scream that shakes the very air.

Its attention now fully on me, the creature rears back, the circles on its wings glowing with deadly intent. I hear March and Dan shouting warnings, urging me to get away, but it's too late. The beams lance towards me, searing the air with their heat.

But before they can find their mark, the smoke grenade erupts, engulfing me in a thick, obscuring cloud. The beams pass harmlessly overhead, missing me by inches.

The beams obliterate everything behind me, leaving nothing but dust in their wake. I use the smoke to my advantage, darting out from behind cover and firing another round of ammo, this time directly at the Doomsday Beast's armored face. It screams again, the sound a mix of rage and pain that threatens to burst my eardrums. More lasers lance out, lighting the platform in a deadly fireworks display of explosions and sparks.

The smoke dissipates, revealing nothing where I once stood. I've already moved, crouched beneath a metal structure on another platform I leapt to in the chaos. I yank the pin from my last smoke bomb, lobbing it below me and taking aim at the beast once more.

As I fire, Himeko's voice cuts through the din of battle. "March, Dan, attack now! Its shield is down!"

She's figured it out too, I think grimly. That orb was some kind of protection.

Dan doesn't hesitate. With a fierce battle cry, he launches forward in a super-jump, his lance a blur of motion. The impact takes out a chunk of the Doomsday Beast's arm, metal shards flying like shrapnel.

March follows up, her crystal arrows finding the joints in the beast's armor, freezing them in place and slowing its movements.

Himeko's drone dives in last, spinning like a drill as it aims for the beast's face. The damage I inflicted earlier opened a small crack, and the drone's focused strength breaks through.

With a shower of sparks and a roar that shakes the very air, the drone takes off a chunk of the beast's face, leaving a gaping, sparking hole.

The Doomsday Beast's rampage intensifies, its movements now erratic and unpredictable. Lasers fire in all directions, destroying everything in their path. I catch a glimpse of Himeko diving to cover March, shielding her with her own body. Dan's too far away to help, cut off by the inferno surrounding him.

For a split second, Summer's face flashes in my mind, superimposed over Himeko's. A fleeting image of her kneeling beside a wide-eyed child, her hand gentle on a small shoulder, surrounded by finger paintings and tiny chairs. It's gone before I can grasp it, leaving behind a hollow ache.

Something snaps inside me. My body moves before my brain can catch up.

Without thinking, I leap from the platform, moving faster than I ever thought possible. The lasers miss me by mere inches as I land in front of Himeko and March.

I raise the pistols, pulling the triggers as fast as my fingers will allow. Round after round slams into the beast's face, my barrage unrelenting. Its rampage falters, its attention now solely focused on me.

The core on its belly begins to glow, the heat intensifying as it prepares to fire a devastating ray. But I don't let up, continuing to pepper its head with a hail of plasma. The guns grow hot in my hands, the metal searing my skin, but I barely register the pain.

"Why won't you go down!" I scream, my voice raw with fury and desperation.

The beast's core reaches a blinding crescendo of light. I brace myself for the impact, knowing there's no way to dodge at this range. But I refuse to back down, rage fueling my every move.

"Get out of there!" Himeko shouts from behind me, her voice laced with panic.

I ignore her. The pistols are glowing now, the heat unbearable, but still I fire.

And then, just as the beast is about to unleash its attack, something incredible happens. A golden light erupts from my chest with the force of a supernova, engulfing me in a blinding aura that sears my vision white. The pistols in my hands don't just shatter – they disintegrate, vaporized by the sudden surge of raw, uncontrollable energy.

The beast's beam fires, a lance of pure annihilation screaming towards me. But the golden light roars to meet it, two forces of nature colliding in a cataclysmic explosion that makes the air itself howl in agony. The Doomsday Beast is swallowed by the conflagration, its monstrous form lost in a maelstrom of golden fire and shattering reality.

The force of the blast hits like a freight train, sending shockwaves rippling through the air that threatens to tear the very station apart. The world around me warps and bends, metal groaning as it's pushed to its limits.

But I barely register the impact. All I can focus on is the searing agony ripping through my body, centered on my chest. It feels like something is being torn out of me, a fundamental part of my being wrenched away by the golden light.

I scream, the sound raw and primal, torn from the depths of my lungs. I can't breathe, can't think. The pain is all-consuming, blotting out everything else. This is worse than being thrown into a wall. This is like being unmade.

Dimly, I'm aware of the others shouting, their voices laced with panic and confusion.

"What's happening to him?" March cries, her voice barely audible over the roar of the energy.

"I don't know!" Himeko shouts back. "But we have to do something!"

Through the haze of agony, I see a figure appear in my periphery, moving with impossible speed and grace. It's a man, tall and slender, with a shock of brown hair and a long coat billowing behind him.

He raises his hand, and I glimpse something in his grasp - a cane, maybe, or a staff. Then, with a swift, decisive motion, he brings it down on my head.

The pain stops instantly, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache. I crumple to the floor, my legs giving out beneath me. The golden light fades, dissipating into the air like mist.

As darkness encroaches on my vision, I hear March's voice, high and excited. "Mr. Yang!"

Yang... The name floats in my mind, familiar yet frustratingly out of reach. I know I should recognize it, but the pain scrambles my thoughts, leaving me grasping at fragments of memory.

But before I can piece it together, darkness claims me, and I know no more.

Author's Notes:

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Chapter notes and references:

• I should be dead. That blow should have killed me instantly. No human could survive that kind of force. And yet, here I am, alive and... not well, but alive. How is that possible? — A body that can hold a Stellaron inside must be made of some really strong stuff. What could that be? That's something to explore later on. I'll keep you guessing for now!

• As I rise, a glint catches my eye. There, at the top of the Doomsday Beast's head, floats an orb. Could it be a weak point? — In the game, all enemies have a shield bar you need to break before you can actually do damage to them. I thought about adding this to the story by giving most characters a shield as long as they are under a Path's powers. There are two ways to break the shield: by hitting a weak point or by attacking using a Path affinity it is weak against. In this case, Xander did both, which made his attacks effective against the Doomsday Beast.

Changelog:

• Edited 3/20/2024

• Revised and made additional improvements on 6/26/2024