Chapter 6. The Cabal
Kanzar stepped into a long, rectangular chamber where the walls pulsed with a soft, organic glow. Spherical lamps hanging from the ceiling cast a phosphorescent luminescence, giving the room an almost temple-like aura. In the center stood a long, elliptical table that seemed to hover slightly above the floor, as if it did not entirely belong to this reality. Seated around it were beings of various shapes and origins — each distinct in form and nature, yet united by a common purpose. Kanzar took a seat in one of the egg-shaped chairs, resting his hands on the cold, faintly glowing surface of the table.
"Did you manage to convince your prisoner to cooperate?" asked the reptiloid seated across from him. His emerald-green scales shimmered under the dim light, and his serpent-like eyes narrowed in calculated scrutiny. Dressed in a pristine white uniform, he exuded both the precision of a scholar and the discipline of a soldier.
"Unfortunately, no," Kanzar admitted, crossing his arms. "It seems he suspects something. I'll have to work on him longer."
"Perhaps we should handle his conditioning ourselves?" the reptiloid hissed.
"There is no need to let anger cloud our judgment, comrade," interjected a Zeta Reticulian, his skin a shade of liquid mercury. His massive, almond-shaped eyes, completely black and devoid of pupils, reflected the surrounding light. He was clad in long, crimson-and-gold robes that draped around him like a ceremonial vestment.
"Proving another thesis about the state of the Cosmic Collective is a deed worthy of recognition. Kanzar has earned his place at our table," he added, his voice carrying an almost hypnotic melody, as if each word was calibrated to resonate within the minds of those present.
At his words, another figure joined the discussion — an insectoid resembling a giant green mantis. Its chitinous exoskeleton gleamed with a metallic sheen, while the delicate wings folded on its back trembled faintly. It emitted a series of high-pitched, chittering sounds, instantly translated by the room's built-in computer.
"I concur with our comrade," announced the synthetic, emotionless voice of the translator.
Then, another participant spoke — a pale-skinned girl with long, jet-black hair. She appeared no older than ten, yet her eyes, nearly devoid of sclera, radiated an unsettling, almost inhuman intellect. In her small hands, she cradled a pulsating cube, from which tendrils of wiring extended. Some of them coiled around her head, vanishing beneath her thick hair.
"Conclusion: we must reaffirm the truths we have already established. A new truth must be added to the database," she said, her tone devoid of inflection.
Silence fell over the room.
The girl tightened her grip on the cube. Symbols of glowing light materialized in the air, hovering like holographic inscriptions.
"First thesis: the 'Savior's' control over the Cosmic Collective weakens with each new world assimilated into the Cosmic Ladder of Creation."
"That is self-evident. Otherwise, we would not be able to meet here freely and discuss such matters," remarked a man wearing a golden mask, clad in a light-colored, impeccably tailored suit.
"Then why do you refuse to reveal your true identity?" the reptilian snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. The phosphorescent surface flared momentarily in response.
"I owe no explanations to an intellectually inferior species," the masked man retorted with a hint of amusement.
"Let's put an end to this unnecessary exchange of hostilities," the Zeta Reticulian declared firmly, rising from his chair and spreading his arms. "We must remain strong if we are to see our plan through. We must be united, comrades."
The mantis-like insectoid let out another shrill screech, which the computer swiftly translated:
"Let us proceed to the next thesis."
The black-haired girl sighed, squeezing the pulsating cube tighter.
"Second thesis: the 'Savior's' power diminishes with each successive world he consumes."
This time, no one spoke.
"Third thesis: the 'Savior's' power is obtained at the expense of the worlds he has previously claimed."
"No one has confirmed that," the reptilian objected, his eyes gleaming with suspicion.
"Our scientists have no doubts. It is the only rational explanation for what he is and how he was able to create the wonders we have witnessed," an older woman with short, silver hair stated calmly.
"Rationality does not define truth. To understand the Creator of the Collective's power, one must step beyond the narrow confines of conventional perception," the masked man interjected.
"None of us have attempted to return to the homes of our ancestors, so we cannot be certain," said another woman, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her deep-set eyes unreadable. Kanzar stood and surveyed the assembled figures.
"My subordinates at the Institute of Science have confirmed disturbances in spacetime. They align with Doctor Mahler's theory. This could mark the beginning of a slow process that will unravel reality in this part of the multiverse… and restore the energy of the sleeping Savior."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"I am introducing a new thesis. Someone in our city has the ability to create a stable gateway to a reality untouched by the Cosmic Collective. Conclusion: Traveling to another world is possible without relying on the power of the Being from Beyond, also known as the Savior."
The black-haired girl lifted her gaze from the small cube she had been holding. The cables snaking around her temples trembled slightly as she spoke. A heavy silence settled over the room. Everyone present absorbed the weight of her statement.
"My plan would not have succeeded without the sacrifice of our mysterious allies," Kanzar declared, gesturing toward the figure seated beside him.
The individual in golden armor, adorned with intricate geometric patterns, rose with a slow, deliberate motion. His helmet, shaped like an inverted basin, obscured his face entirely. As he stood, a telepathic voice echoed in the minds of all present.
"The sacrifice of my brothers and me is insignificant compared to the opportunity to halt the Collective's march across reality. We have come here to correct the greatest mistake in the history of the entire multiverse. Our mistake."
His words resonated deeply, leaving a solemn impression upon the gathering.
"Now everything depends on Kanzar and the man the Knights have brought into our city," the black-haired girl stated, setting the cube aside. A gray-skinned alien shifted in his seat, his large, pupil-less eyes absorbing the dim light of the chamber.
"There remains an unknown factor — the child held in the rebel camp and her extraordinary abilities."
The reptilian humanoid let out a sharp exhale, his clawed fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "Perhaps our armored companion has some theories about her?" the scaled being hissed.
Once more, the telepathic voice filled the room, this time laced with hesitation:
"I do not know how such an anomaly could have arisen. This has never occurred in any world occupied by the Collective. I lack sufficient data to draw conclusions."
"We should capture her and use her against the Sleeping Savior!" the reptilian snarled, slamming his fist against the table.
The insectoid being let out a series of sharp, chittering noises, which were instantly translated by the room's system: "I agree with our comrade."
"Such a radical move would only draw his attention to us," the Zeta Reticulian spoke softly, yet his voice carried throughout the tense atmosphere. "Let us not forget that most of the world is still under his control — or under the control of those loyal to him."
Kanzar nodded. "That is true. We cannot bring her into the city. The Creator of the Collective has already had an unpleasant encounter with her, and we all know what order would be given regarding her fate. That is precisely why we tolerate the existence of the rebel camp beneath our very feet. Any attempt to attack it could lead to the rebels escaping the ruins of old Tokyo, and we would lose the girl forever."
The long-haired woman turned her gaze to Kanzar, studying him intently. "Then why did several of your soldiers, under your direct command, enter the camp — and never return? That was reckless."
Kanzar exhaled slowly. "I had no choice. Our guest did not arrive through the anomaly alone. He was accompanied by a group of individuals, all of them possessing power. I had to order them tracked — to avoid arousing suspicion among those loyal to the leader of the Cosmic Collective. He, too, must have noticed the spacetime disturbance."
"Does that mean there are others in the city who come from a reality beyond the Collective's reach?" the man in the golden mask asked.
"Yes, but they are of no consequence to our cause," Kanzar replied, his tone cold.
The telepathic voice of the armored figure followed immediately. "They are here because of our mistake."
The gray-skinned alien raised a hand in disagreement. "I cannot agree with that. The mechano-organic entity held in the Institute of Science is of extreme interest. I hope I will be granted access to the research findings."
Kanzar turned to the silver-haired woman. "Dr. Mahler will provide all reports."
She nodded in silent confirmation.
The man in the golden mask ran a gloved hand along the edge of the table.
"Our meeting has lasted too long. It is time to conclude and return to our respective places in the vast machinery that is our cosmic society."
One by one, the members of the gathering left the chamber: the masked man, the reptilian, the black-haired girl, the elderly woman, the insectoid, and the Zeta Reticulian.
Only Kanzar, the long-haired woman, and the towering armored knight remained.
"You may return now," Kanzar said. "I do not want the Being from Beyond to sense the presence of someone it might consider a threat. Not now, when we are so close to our ultimate goal."
The armored man's golden plating rippled as though it were alive.
"There will be no second chance. We are the only remaining Knight still standing on the Ladder of Cosmic Creation. All of our brethren vanished in the shattered spacetime of failed, uninhabitable universes — too young or too old to sustain life."
With those final words, his form flickered and disappeared, teleporting to an unknown destination.
Kanzar and his companion stepped into the oval-shaped elevator, its doors opening automatically upon sensing their presence.
"I don't know how you can tolerate being in the same room as a reptilian, an insectoid, and a Zeta Reticulian," the girl remarked.
"They are useful allies," Kanzar replied coolly.
The elevator doors closed with a whisper, and the cabin descended.
"Your people, so accustomed to perfection and beauty, now have to beg for help… from these evolutionary mistakes. Just the thought of it makes me despise our so-called perfect society more and more."
Almea's voice was laced with disgust, her sharp features tense with restrained fury.
"You speak as if on my behalf," the long-haired soldier responded, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at her. "But I can see quite clearly that it is you who has issues with our inner circle."
"Every moment spent in their company makes me want to strip naked and run straight under a decontamination shower." Her voice dripped with revulsion. "I'm sitting next to a repulsive, green insect! And that gray dwarf — his eyes drill straight into my soul! I can feel him reading my thoughts…"
"Perhaps he is," the soldier mused. "The Reticulians are known for their telepathy, and among them, he holds the status of a spiritual leader. His mastery of mind control is likely unparalleled. He could easily influence every decision we make. The only reason he refrains from doing so is probably because constant use of telepathy risks reconnecting him to the Cosmic Collective's consciousness." He tilted his head slightly. "We should be grateful to our savior."
The elevator arrived at its destination — a high-level residential platform overlooking the vast metropolis. Below, a wide plaza bustled with city dwellers awaiting the sleek, oval-shaped airborne transports that regularly stopped to pick up passengers. Despite the energy shields and wind barriers, strong gusts swept through the platform. Almea, visibly irritated, kept brushing stray strands of hair from her face.
"My transport will be here shortly," she said.
"I think we should meet again. In private, as we once did." Her gaze lingered on him.
The soldier's expression remained unreadable. "I am not of your race either. Does the thought of being with me not repulse you?"
"In you, I see something greater than myself," she admitted. "The crown of evolution. The embodiment of longing and unfulfilled dreams." Her tone darkened. "But them… they are nothing more than beasts, accidentally granted intelligence."
A sleek air transport descended onto the platform, its doors sliding open with a quiet hiss. Without another word, Almea turned and boarded. Kanzar stood motionless, watching as the vehicle lifted off and disappeared into the skyline. Then, without hesitation, he rose into the air, his body weightless under the command of his own telekinetic power. In silence, he drifted away from the landing platform, vanishing into the labyrinthine heights of the city.
Dawn broke, marking a crucial day for every inhabitant of the rebel camp. The entire settlement buzzed with activity as its people prepared to leave the ruined sector aboard an anti-gravity airship, once the property of a race known as the Chosen Ones. Men and women carried suitcases and crates filled with everything they owned, pushing carts overflowing with salvaged goods — either scavenged from the ruins or taken during raids into the lower levels of the metropolis and battles against its enforcers. Some relied on outdated mobile robots or autonomous platforms to assist with the burden, but most had only their own strength to depend on.
The young mutants from Genosha were no exception. Freakshow, his body transformed into a hulking, four-armed form, helped move the heaviest loads. His black companion used her teleportation abilities to transfer cargo closer to the waiting airship, speeding up the loading process. Shola, unable to control his unstable telekinesis, was instead tasked with destroying anything that couldn't be taken but also couldn't be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Wicked and Callisto did what dozens of other camp residents were doing — packing, carrying, preparing. Wicked lacked the ability to make her spectral entities solid, so she was forced to rely on her own muscles. Each member of the team wore a green-and-gray uniform, identical to those worn by John Marcus's closest allies. The only exception was the one-eyed mutant. Callisto had refused to change out of her black attire — she had no intention of joining the expedition to Ocean City. Instead, she planned to return to the metropolis in search of Magneto and Karima Shapandar.
The entire camp moved steadily toward the ruins of the harbor, a once-thriving port where now no ships remained, and the buildings had crumbled into desolation. This marked the end of the force field that shielded the outcasts from the all-seeing eyes of the Collective. Beyond the barrier lay only the open sea, separating the island from the distant mainland. At the very edge of the ruins, their sole means of escape loomed — a massive transport vessel, hovering just above the abandoned docks. Its anti-gravity engines were active but operated at low power to conserve energy, leaving its lower hull partially submerged. The craft was three stories tall, its streamlined, rectangular shape and sleek prow reminiscent of a colossal submarine. Three access ramps extended from its open doors, allowing the refugees to haul their most precious belongings aboard.
Nearby, Hub teleported a large crate directly in front of one of the ramps. Exhausted, she dropped onto the pavement, resting her back against a wooden plank. Her breath was heavy, her limbs sluggish, and as she watched the constant movement of people around her, overwhelming drowsiness threatened to pull her under. At that moment, a familiar figure appeared beside her — the black-haired girl who had once shot her with a stun gun.
"Hub? That's what you call yourself?" the girl asked.
The black mutant cast her a weary, unwelcoming glance before turning her head away in silent refusal to engage.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard. You were injured," the girl continued. "The blast from a stun pistol is strong enough to bring down even a Reptiloid."
„Did you come here to gloat over your victory? I'm exhausted, and I have no desire to listen to you," Hub replied flatly.
The black-haired girl stepped closer, crouching just enough so that their faces were level.
„You misunderstood me. I came here because I want to apologize. I judged you all unfairly — we all did," she admitted.
„Apologize? Last time, you were ready to kill me. Callisto's wounded arm is proof enough of that."
„Yes, it's true. I thought you were someone else entirely. You have no idea what I went through after the Chosen Ones decided to claim this city for themselves. The things I endured… The anger built up inside me for years until it finally exploded. But in the wrong moment, against the wrong person. And for that, I want to say I'm sorry… if you…"
„Enough. I heard what you had to say," Hub interrupted, her voice cold. „Now, if you really want to make up for what you did, start helping move supplies to the ship. Apparently, we don't have much time. I'll get back to work myself once I've rested."
Her tone left no room for further conversation. It was clear — Hub had no interest in forging any connection.
At that same moment, Wicked found herself intercepted by the blonde girl she had fought earlier in the middle of the camp.
„Stop right there!" the blonde shouted.
Wicked ignored her and quickened her pace, hoping to blend into the stream of people making their way toward the harbor. But the girl wasn't about to let her slip away — she lunged forward, knocking the package from Wicked's hands.
„What the hell is wrong with you?!" Wicked snapped.
„I think we have unfinished business," the blonde said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Wicked clenched her fists. „You're insane. Not only am I helping you people, even though I hate every second of it, but you're still trying to start something? You already know who I am — I'm not from that damn city. So what the hell is your problem now?"
„My problem?" The blonde scoffed. „You've been here for only a few days, and yet Marcus treats you and your friends like royalty. I just want to remind you of your place — down in the dirt where you belong."
There was pure hostility in her voice, in every tense movement of her body. Wicked took a deep breath, willing herself not to take the bait. Silently, she knelt to pick up her package and turned to leave. The blonde stepped in front of her again, blocking her path.
„I don't know what kind of spell you put on Marcus, but you can't fool me. I don't know what you're really doing here, but I'll find out. And when I do, I'll expose you."
Wicked's patience snapped. „Listen, I never asked to be here. I never wanted to be in this world at all! The only reason I'm helping is so I can get back home. So do me a favor — stay out of my way and stop wasting my time with this nonsense."
The blonde took a step back, slowly drawing a knife from her belt. Her lips curled into a mocking smirk. „We'll meet again. And next time, I won't hold back."
Wicked exhaled sharply and summoned three spectral figures around her, their ghostly presence looming behind her like a silent threat. „Neither will I."
Elsewhere, Shola Inkosi unleashed powerful telekinetic blasts, reducing abandoned structures to rubble. The rebel encampment was vanishing at an alarming rate, swallowed by clouds of dust and debris. Every building he destroyed had already been evacuated — there was no need to hold back.
An elderly woman, the one who had offered the young mutants shelter, stood at a distance, watching the destruction with tears in her eyes. When Shola finally paused to catch his breath, she slowly approached him.
„Thank you for your help," she said softly.
Her gaze lingered on the ruins, and after a moment, she added, „But it breaks my heart to see the place I called home turned to dust."
Shola studied her face. „Aren't you relieved that you'll finally be somewhere safe?"
She let out a quiet sigh. „I am. Mostly for Natalie and the other young ones. They've never known anything beyond this filthy camp. No real childhood. Instead of watching the sun shine during the day and the stars glitter at night, all they've ever seen were the walls of that cursed metropolis, casting a shadow over our lives."
She turned her gaze toward the towering walls in the distance, the foundations of the great city looming over the ruins.
„They're full of hope," she continued, „excited for what's waiting beyond the force field. But I'm too old to share their enthusiasm. Here, in this wasteland, we had nothing — but at least we had our own little world, our own piece of freedom. And where we're going… that place only exists in stories and dreams."
Shola hesitated before asking, „You don't believe in Ocean City? You think it's just a myth?"
The woman smiled faintly. „The city probably exists. But something tells me it's no different from the one behind those walls."
Her words hung in the air as she turned her eyes toward the skyline, where the shadow of the metropolis stretched across the remains of their camp. And still, despite everything, she smiled.
"I won't bore you any longer. You still have plenty of work to do. Don't waste your time listening to an old woman — focus on finding your way home. I need to take care of Natalie. She'll need me now," she said before heading toward the port.
Meanwhile, Callisto, Marcus, and the woman accompanying him stood near an abandoned building that had recently served as the rebels' headquarters.
"We're leaving in a few hours," Marcus stated. "You still have time to change your mind and join us in searching for Ocean City. Your group shouldn't be without a leader."
"They're not," Callisto replied. "Shola is more than capable of taking charge. When I'm gone, he'll have to make decisions on his own, without waiting for my approval."
"I see."
"I need to go back up," she added after a pause. "Find Magneto and Karima, and return to my own reality with them."
"That's your choice. Just remember — it won't be easy."
"I never expected it to be."
Marcus nodded. "When you're ready to depart, I'll show you a way through the wall. It's the only path into the inner city, where the foundation of the residential towers lies. I want you to take Xiriel with you."
He gestured toward the woman standing beside him — pale-skinned, blue-eyed, her hair concealed beneath a deep-blue cloth.
"She's one of the few people who know how to navigate the maze of the Chosen Ones city's foundations. Her help will be invaluable. Besides, when two people undertake a mission, the chances of at least one seeing it through increase significantly."
Callisto examined Xiriel with a scrutinizing gaze. "Fine. As long as she can keep up with me."
Xiriel met her stare with a firm, unwavering expression. "If you have doubts, we can race to the top," she said coolly.
Marcus sighed. "I hope you two come to an understanding soon. You both have important tasks up there, and without cooperation, this journey will end quickly for both of you."
Callisto smirked slightly. "I didn't mean to offend. That was just my sense of humor."
"I understand," Xiriel replied. "And I recognize the value of cooperation."
The two women exchanged a silent, measuring glance. The tension remained, but at least it seemed they were prepared for the mission ahead.
Meanwhile, in a parallel reality, Charles Xavier, Amelia Voght, Book, and the recently found Carmella Unuscione were in the hospital where the red-haired woman worked. The professor sat alone in a small room, likely a break room for doctors. He had been waiting in silence when Amelia joined him. She regarded him with suspicion, but he was the first to speak.
"How is she?" he asked.
"She's asleep. She was poisoned by something, and it weakened her badly. But she's not in any danger. Honestly, we should be more worried about what happens when she wakes up."
"Good. Then we can start searching for the next members of your team. I'll notify Book, and together we'll track down the Kleinstocks."
"Charles, I'm not going anywhere until you explain something to me."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Everything that's happened since we brought Carmella in… it's too strange to be just a coincidence. The doctors didn't ask me a single question about who she was. They followed my orders without hesitation. They immediately agreed to place her in a VIP suite. And now this — you're sitting in a doctors' lounge, even though you're just a guest, and no one has checked in on you for hours. What the hell is going on, Charles?"
Xavier remained silent, his gaze fixed on the white wallpapered wall.
"I ensured the discretion we needed," he finally said.
Amelia stiffened. "Does that mean you're controlling all these people? Just like that?"
The professor didn't respond.
"Charles, at least tell me how many of them are under your control. Please."
"Everyone who steps onto this floor," he admitted reluctantly, turning his head toward the window.
Amelia drew in a sharp breath. "The whole floor? Do you even realize what that means? Don't you see that you're acting just like him?"
"Time is working against us," Xavier said, his voice measured but tense. "We can't afford mistakes if we want to bring my students into this reality. This was the quickest solution."
"But completely against everything you stand for! Controlling people like puppets just to achieve your goal? You're no different from Magneto."
"My students' lives are at risk. I will do whatever it takes to save them and bring them here."
"That's exactly how he justified every terrible thing he ever did!"
"And when you followed his path, that didn't seem to bother you," Xavier countered coolly.
Amelia clenched her jaw. "Charles… I don't feel like rehashing the past right now. I won't interfere with whatever you're planning, but before you take another step, remember where that kind of thinking led him."
The professor said nothing for a while.
"Be ready to transport yourself and me to the Kleinstocks' location as soon as Book finds them," he finally said, shutting down the conversation. He had no intention of discussing the morality of his actions with someone who had once been fanatically devoted to Magneto's ideology.
Amelia exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Fine… Now I see exactly why you didn't want your X-Men involved. They would have stopped you, Charles. No matter what it took."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Evening had fallen, and with it, the final stages of loading the belongings of the camp's inhabitants onto the airborne craft were coming to an end. The massive machine was preparing for departure from one of the docks in the ruins of the city. The young mutants sat resting by a crackling fire, and soon, Callisto joined them. She knew her time with them was running out. Soon, they would part ways, and she wouldn't be there to protect them anymore. Worry gnawed at her, but she also knew she couldn't take any of them with her. The city beyond the walls was too dangerous for newcomers from another world — yet visiting it was unavoidable.
"Marcus is already on board. You'll be leaving any minute now," she said, gazing at the lights glinting off the hull of the colossal aircraft.
"It's time for me to go too... She's getting impatient," she added, nodding toward Xiriel, who stood in the shadowy remains of the encampment.
"Are you sure you don't want one of us to go with you?" Shola asked.
"We've already talked about this," Hub interjected. "I could get us there much faster. If I teleported down, I can teleport back up just as easily."
"It's too risky," Callisto said firmly. "Last time, we had no choice. But now, I won't let you take the chance of materializing inside a wall or a building."
"Magneto and Karima are up there. We want to help them too," Freakshow protested.
"Exactly," Wicked agreed. "We're all X-Men, aren't we? Why should we run from danger? Why help strangers when our own people need us?"
Callisto looked at them. Then she exhaled. "I know you're all brave enough to come with me — you don't need to prove that. But I need to stay in the shadows up there, and most of your abilities aren't exactly subtle. More importantly, I promised Xavier I'd keep you safe, not lead you to your deaths. There will be over a hundred other people on that ship, and I guarantee your journey won't be a peaceful one. You'll have plenty of chances to be heroes. Now go — if you wait any longer, they'll leave without you."
For a moment, the mutants said nothing, unwilling to accept her decision. But eventually, they realized they wouldn't change her mind.
"Be careful," Freakshow said.
"Bring them back," Hub added.
Shola and Wicked didn't speak but exchanged a silent farewell before turning toward the port, where final preparations for liftoff were underway.
Xiriel stepped closer to Callisto. "Are you ready?" she asked.
Callisto didn't respond immediately. She watched her friends disappear into the distance, then turned in the opposite direction. "Yeah. Show me the entrance."
The two women left the remains of the camp behind, passing through a scrapyard filled with debris deemed unworthy of taking aboard the aircraft. Eventually, they reached a metal wall partially concealed by wooden crates and barrels.
"This is it," Xiriel said. After a brief hesitation, she stepped forward, attempting to push one of the barrels aside.
"Well? Don't just stand there — help me move this!" she snapped.
Callisto didn't argue. Together, they cleared the obstacles blocking the entrance to the inner city. Once the path was open, a steel door secured with a heavy padlock stood before them. Xiriel pulled a key from her pocket and held it up for Callisto to see.
"Beyond this door, the protective field around our camp ends. Once we go through, we'll be on our own. There's no one up there who can help us. I hope you understand what you're walking into."
Callisto smirked faintly. "I have no idea. But I don't have a choice. My team is up there."
Xiriel studied her for a moment before nodding. "I admire your loyalty. The hardest part of our journey will be the beginning. What lies beyond these doors is similar to the ruins we've been living in — but with something more. The foundations of a massive city still stand there. And I'm not talking about a simple structure with one corridor and a single path leading up. It's a labyrinth. There are no maps, no guides. The place is dark, hostile. Its architecture seems designed to trap anyone who enters, to swallow them whole, to ensure they never reach their destination. There are doors that lead into the void, staircases that spiral into nothing, and a constant wind that whispers things — things you can never quite understand but that haunt you both day and night."
Callisto's lips curled into a grim smile. "New York's underground wasn't exactly welcoming either. And I grew up in it."
"That's not all. The underground isn't empty. It's not just haunted by the ghosts of the city's former residents. Down there, you'll find people too mad to stay in the camp. Those who went willingly. Those who were banished by Marcus for their crimes. But the worst part…" Xiriel hesitated. "This place is the city's dumping ground."
Callisto narrowed her eye. "You mean regular waste?"
"Yes, the city's garbage ends up there too. Vast landfills, perhaps even the only way for us to reach the upper levels. But that's not what I meant." Xiriel's voice dropped. "I'm talking about living waste. The failed experiments of the lunatics from the Institute of Science. Twisted, inhuman things, filled with nothing but hatred for anyone who crosses their path."
A heavy silence settled between them. Callisto studied Xiriel, as if weighing how much of this was exaggeration and how much grim reality. At last, she spoke, her voice calm but firm.
"If this place is as terrifying as you say, why are you coming with me? I don't understand. I have no choice — I have to go because my friends are up there. But you? Your place is with the rebels. Didn't you want to go with them to find Ocean City?"
Xiriel sighed. "I was never one of them. I only stayed because Marcus took me in. The truth is, I belong up there."
Callisto frowned. "Then why did you say we wouldn't find anyone willing to help us?"
Xiriel didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached up and pulled off her headscarf. Long, white hair tumbled over her shoulders, revealing pointed ears.
"I was born as one of the Chosen Ones," she said quietly. "But I'm no longer welcome among them."
Callisto's expression darkened. "You mean…?"
"Yes," Xiriel interrupted. "There's probably already a bounty on my head. He would do that."
"And you're still going back?"
"I have to. Just like you, I have someone up there who matters to me. And I have an old score to settle."
Callisto gave a small nod, though deep down, she knew that bringing Xiriel along would only invite more trouble. "Alright. Then let's go."
At the same time, the massive airship welcomed all the rebels aboard, along with a group of young mutants from another world. Its engines were primed for departure, and the anti-gravity drive lifted it higher than ever before — so high that not a single part of its surface touched the waters of the bay.
John Marcus sat in the captain's chair at the heart of the command deck, watching as his closest aides ran final checks on the ship's onboard systems. At last, he turned to one of the women seated at the control panel. "Can we connect to the ship's speaker system?"
The woman glanced at the monitors before responding. "We can't guarantee full coverage, but we have access to most decks."
"That'll do. I have an important message to deliver."
"You're live. Go ahead."
Marcus hesitated briefly, gathering his thoughts, then spoke.
"Friends. Today marks the beginning of a new dawn. A day we have long awaited. A day many believed would never come. Today, we leave behind this cursed place that has held us captive for so long. Today, we embark on our journey to find the Promised Land. Our destination is Ocean City — a place where we can live in peace, without fear of the Collective's soldiers storming into our homes at any given moment."
His voice grew more resolute. "But our journey will not be easy. It will be fraught with danger. The people above may try to stop us. They may seek to destroy us, just to get their hands on Natalie. We must be prepared for battle, even in these early stages of our voyage. But we are not alone. We have powerful allies — beings whose abilities rival those of the Chosen Ones. When the time comes, we must stand by them as they will stand by us."
A brief silence followed, letting his words sink in. "I wish all of you a safe passage to Ocean City. And remember — Natalie is our priority. You must protect her at all costs. She is the only one capable of facing the evil that has consumed our world."
Throughout the ship, the rebels listened — some with rapt attention, others lost in thought. The members of Excalibur gathered in one of the chambers, while little Natalie remained under Mary's watchful care. Each of them held onto the hope that their destination would become a true home, yet none could predict what dangers lay beyond the city's protective shield.
The colossal vessel ascended even higher before setting course for the open sea. Its protective energy field was calibrated to match the frequency of the bay's barrier, allowing it to pass through as if it were merely a mist hovering over the abandoned port.
Meanwhile, in his office, Kanzar was interrupted by an urgent report from one of his officers.
"Lord Kanzar! A warship has just left the city limits near the old port!"
Kanzar narrowed his eyes. "Were any maneuvers scheduled?"
"No, sir. Not that I'm aware of."
"Did you check the ship's energy signature?"
"Not yet."
Kanzar clenched his jaw. "Then what are you waiting for?!"
The soldier flinched and quickly entered the necessary data into the system. Moments later, he spoke again, his voice laced with disbelief.
"We have the identification code… but that's impossible. This ship — it's one we lost during the war against the rebels. How could it…"
Kanzar cut the transmission. He rose from his chair and walked to the window, his expression darkening.
"Of course. You imbecile." He exhaled sharply, then muttered aloud. "The rebels."
Returning to his desk, he initiated a series of video calls.
"Unit 12. Rebel activity detected within the city limits. I repeat — rebel activity confirmed. Their exact location can be found in the computer network under the report on the unauthorized activation of a warship beyond the city barrier."
"Unit AS-2. Same orders apply. Details are in Unit 12's briefing."
Across the city, in one of the towering white skyscrapers, alarms blared. Kanzar's announcement echoed through the loudspeakers, pulling soldiers in gray uniforms from their daily routines and sending them rushing toward the hangars. Rows of vehicles awaited them — sleek hover bikes, glistening, needle-like fighter jets, and several heavy transport ships. Within minutes, the entire fleet launched, dispersing from the tower like a swarm of metallic wasps.
Elsewhere, a deep, scraping sound resonated from unseen speakers. Swarms of insectoid creatures froze, listening intently. Moments later, they moved with swift precision, retreating into the depths of their hive. One by one, they entered the pulsing, green, organic transport vessels, while their commanders barked orders in a language of clicks and hisses.
Meanwhile, Kanzar initiated one final, private transmission — this one off the military network.
"Almea," he addressed the woman on the other end. "The rebels are leaving the city. Get in touch with our contacts near the outskirts. I'm sending you coordinates."
He paused briefly before adding. "You need to capture the girl. Alive. And be careful — there may be others with special abilities among them."
Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.