The moment they stepped through the portal, the world changed.

  The air shimmered gold and green, filled with drifting particles that hung like glowing pollen. Above

  them, the sky swirled in soft layers, grey, amber, and faint violet, colors bleeding together like oil

  across water. The ground beneath their boots was glassy and uneven, crystalline growths jutting up like

  the fractured bones of the earth. Every step sent faint echoes through the surface, as though the world

  itself was hollow beneath their feet.

  Kira’s eyes widened. “It’s… beautiful.”

  Renn’s gaze swept the horizon, the faint hum of his rifle warming. “Keep your focus. Portals always

  look better before something tries to kill you.”

  Calen smirked faintly, his hand resting on his bow. “Then let’s make sure it’s the last thing that does.”

  He brought up his map, the soft blue hologram flickering to life in the damp air. Three markers glowed

  nearby, one pulsing bright red, one gold, one orange. “Three signatures,” he said. “Individual, swarm,

  and herd.”

  Renn studied the display. “Start small?”

  Calen nodded. “Individual first. Work up from there.”

  The team adjusted formation, moving through the crystalline plain toward the red marker. Their boots

  crunched over fractured resonance veins, soft light glowing with each step.

  About two kilometers later, they spotted the beast halfway through a ravine of pale stone, a towering,

  insectoid shape, its body lined with pulsing green veins. The creature’s carapace shifted in color with

  every movement, and its legs left trails of liquid light across the ground.

  Erys’s voice trembled slightly. “That’s… T2-Class, right?”

  Calen checked his wrist. “Tier-Two-Common. Healing type.”

  Renn’s expression tightened. “Healing type means long fights.”

  “Or short ones if we’re better,” Calen said, his tone calm but confident. “Listen up. We’ve already done

  tougher in Whites. You’ve all got the gear, you’ve all got the rhythm. Don’t let the tier number scare

  you. Focus on execution.”

  He gave them a sharp nod. “Fifteen minutes. We finish this clean.”

  The team spread into formation. The air hummed with anticipation as the first shot cracked through the

  silence. Calen’s arrow slamming into the creature’s flank with a burst of white light. The healers

  triggered their motes instantly, Erys’s smaller ones weaving beneath Kira’s brighter orbs like

  synchronized satellites.

  The fight moved fast, precise. Every strike from the front line, Vorren’s shield bashes, Thane’s cleaving

  arcs, came with counter pulses of light that kept their health steady. Even when the creature released its

  healing burst, a green pulse that rippled outward, Kira countered with a radiant flare that disrupted its

  recovery cycle.

  Twelve minutes later, it fell. The ground trembled, its form dissolving into a wash of shimmering

  fragments.

  But before it broke apart completely, a final pulse rippled outward, a shockwave of green resonance

  that struck like a heartbeat through the air. Kira wasn’t expecting it.

  The burst hit her square in the chest. Her eyes appeared to flared, then blinked out entirely. She

  staggered backward, staff slipping from her hand as she collapsed to her knees, motionless.

  “Kira!” Renn shouted, breaking formation, but Calen was already moving. He slid beside her, pulling

  her upright, checking her pulse with trembling fingers. Her eyes fluttered open a second later,

  unfocused, breathing shallow.

  “I… I’m fine,” she said quickly, voice unsteady. “It was the pulse. Healing-type.”

  Erys crouched beside her, nodding in understanding. “It happens. Your are stabilizing.”

  Kira exhaled shakily, eyes clearing as her armor’s veins brightened again. “I’m all right now. Really.

  She smiled faintly. “Next time, I’ll be ready for it.”

  The team erupted in cheers. Vorren pounded his chestplate. “First Grey. First Tier-Two. No injuries!”

  Calen smiled, chest rising with pride. That’s right. We can do this.

  He bent down and picked up the still-warm fragment left behind by the fallen beast. It pulsed faintly in

  his palm, a condensed core of soft green light, the creature’s heart, crystallized by its death.

  He turned it over once, watching the resonance glow trace along the creases of his gauntlet before

  dimming. The first real victory, he thought. The first of many.

  He lifted it slightly, the faint light catching the others’ eyes. “That’s how it’s done.”

  A ripple of excitement moved through the group. Even Renn grinned.

  Calen’s smile deepened. “Let’s make sure the next one’s bigger.”

  Their next target lay across a sprawling plain dotted with jagged, mineral trees. From a distance, the

  herd looked like a field of living statues, massive beasts with cracked, stony hides and slow, rumbling

  movements. There were easily a hundred of them, maybe more, their bodies radiating faint heat from

  the friction of constant motion.

  Calen pulled up his display again. “System Core, analyze.”

  The voice of the core echoed in his head: “Tier-One-Apex. Durability classification.”

  He relayed it to the team. “T1A Durability. They’re tough. Real tough.”

  Renn grimaced. “Great. Rocks that kick back.”

  “They’re slow,” Calen countered. “And if we keep formation, they’ll break before we do. Just

  remember, don’t overextend.”

  The battle began like thunder.

  The first impact hit like a quake, dozens of hooves slamming into the crystalline plain as the herd

  surged in unison. The sound was deafening, a rolling rhythm of stone on stone that shook the ground

  beneath their feet.

  “Hold the line!” Renn barked.

  Vorren and Thane braced forward, shields locking together, reflective plating blazing with molten light.

  The first wave crashed into them, claws screeching against armor, horns sparking as they met the

  reflective shell. Each impact sent kinetic bursts ricocheting back into the beasts, cracking crystal hides

  and shattering horns.

  Kira raised both hands, channeling resonance through her chestplate. Four motes ignited above her

  shoulders, their light weaving threads of gold between every squad member. The pulses spread through

  the formation like synchronized heartbeats, healing, sealing fractures in armor, steadying breathing.

  Erys followed half a beat behind her, his smaller motes trailing hers like shadows, each pulse slotting

  perfectly into the gaps of her rhythm. Together they became a circuit, a perfect loop of regeneration that

  kept the team glowing even under the constant hail of impacts.

  Calen darted along the flank, his bow a blur. Arrows flashed blue, detonating on contact, carving weak

  points into the beasts’ thick hides. Each shot was measured, mathematical. Every time one fell, he was

  already moving to the next, his movements fluid, instinctive.

  Renn’s rifle sang with lightning. Bolts chained across the battlefield, leaping from horn to horn,

  amplifying through the mineral plates of the herd until arcs of white fire danced across the field. The

  smell of hot crystal filled the air.

  Thane, waded through the chaos like a machine. His orange blade glowed with constant kinetic

  resonance, carving deep fissures through the larger beasts. Each swing sent shards spinning into the air,

  burning bright before dissolving into dust.

  Kira’s voice broke through the noise. “Front line, shift left, overlapping coverage!”

  Her motes rotated in a precise arc, following the team’s movement automatically. One of the frontliners stumbled, his shield half-melted from heat exposure, but her pulse hit a split second later, gold

  light surging across his armor, cooling the molten cracks and solidifying it mid-fight.

  For ninety minutes, it went on like that, an endless rhythm of motion and sound.

  Light flaring, crystal shattering, resonance screaming across the valley.

  The herd fought like a single organism, but the team moved like one too. Every command from Renn

  was answered before it was finished, every pulse from Kira matched by an echo from Erys. Their

  energy never faltered, their coordination never broke.

  Finally, the last Strider bellowed, a deep, trembling sound that rattled through the ground, before

  collapsing into a spray of radiant shards. Its fall sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield,

  scattering dust and embers into the open air.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. Only the crackle of cooling crystal filled the silence.

  Then Renn exhaled, hands on his knees. “Hour and a half,” he said, panting slightly. “And not one of us

  dropped below eighty.”

  Calen grinned, wiping the dust from his visor. “Told you. We’re ready for this.”

  Vorren gave a low whistle, planting his shield in the ground. “Ready and then some.”

  Kira leaned on her staff, sweat streaking down her neck but her expression glowing with quiet

  satisfaction. Erys slumped beside her, laughing weakly. “We just out-healed a stampede.”

  She smiled at him, exhausted but proud. “We matched them,” she said softly. “That’s what a real

  rhythm feels like.”

  They began to gather the fragments, prying them from the shattered remains of the beasts. The shards

  were heavy with residual energy, glowing faintly through their gloves.

  113 Tier-One-Apex fragments. Enough to make the exhaustion fade instantly. Enough to make every

  one of them believe this team could handle anything.

  After a short rest and a few rations, the group followed the map’s last marker into a shallow valley. The

  heat intensified, a dry wind carrying faint orange embers. The deeper they went, the more the air

  shimmered.

  Calen brought up his core again. “System Core, classify.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Tier-One-Greater. Fire-type. Swarm-class.”

  Renn exhaled, tightening his grip on his rifle. “Fire swarm. Perfect.”

  Calen smirked. “Good practice,” he said. “Let’s finish strong.”

  The ground ahead flickered orange, like embers under glass. Then it split open.

  Hundreds, no, thousands, of glowing beetles poured from the cracks, each the size of a clenched fist.

  Their shells burned translucent red, molten veins pulsing with heat. Wings shimmered like blades of

  fire, and every beat filled the air with a rising, harmonic whine.

  The swarm hit them like a storm.

  A tide of flame and movement.

  “Formation!” Renn shouted, dropping to a knee and opening fire. Bolts of lightning lanced through the

  mass, splitting beetles into sprays of molten shards.

  Vorren raised his reflective barrier, crouched low, the shield glowing white-hot as the first wave

  crashed against it. The reflective shell screamed under the strain, light bursting in bursts of kinetic

  ricochet that flung burning fragments backward into the horde. Thane took the left flank, his orange

  blade cleaving arcs of superheated air, cutting through fire-borne projectiles before they could reach the

  others.

  Voss, their mid-range gunner, spun on his heel, both sidearms blazing. Each shot detonated like

  compressed plasma, painting streaks of fire through the chaos. But with every kill came a pulse,

  essence discharges slamming into him as the swarm’s life-force dispersed. His body jerked with each

  one, muscles locking for an instant, his aim faltering.

  “Voss!” Renn barked, noticing the pattern.

  “I’m fine!” he gritted, steadying his hands. His eyes glowed faintly with red flickers, every muscle

  trembling between shots.

  The team adjusted instinctively. Calen shifted right, picking off anything that broke through Voss’s line

  of fire. His arrows hit like thunderclaps, bursts of compressed wind light scattering flames and ash into

  harmless sparks. Each pull of the string came with perfect precision, calculated, cold.

  Behind them, Kira and Erys anchored the formation. Their lights pulsed in unison, alternating every

  heartbeat, every rhythm practiced and precise. Kira’s motes danced around the team like orbits of gold,

  cleansing burns and reknitting armor plating before the heat could eat through. Erys’s smaller pulses

  interlaced seamlessly, filling every gap she left.

  The temperature climbed. Every breath burned. The air shimmered red and gold, molten dust swirling

  around their boots.

  Still they held.

  Calen moved through the inferno like a ghost, arrows blurring into streaks of pressure that carved open

  corridors through the swarm. Renn’s lightning chained again and again, leaping across hundreds at a

  time. Every discharge ignited the air with thunderous cracks.

  Voss took another hit, a pulse from a dying beetle slamming into his chest. His weapons faltered for a

  heartbeat, the barrels glowing too bright, but his snarl cut through the chaos, and both pistols came

  alive again, spraying bursts that lit the canyon like sunrise.

  “Keep it steady!” Calen shouted.

  “Working on it!” Voss shouted back, voice strained but steady now, finding rhythm through pain.

  Minutes turned to hours.

  The swarm thickened, then thinned. Flashes of red and gold filled every direction, until finally, as the

  last wave broke against their formation, the air itself cracked open in a blinding wash of heat and light,

  then fell silent.

  Ash drifted like snow. The world dimmed from molten to shadow.

  Kira dropped to her knees, staff trembling in her hands, sweat streaking down her face. Her light

  dimmed to soft flickers, motes dispersing slowly into the air. Beside her, Erys collapsed backward,

  laughing breathlessly.

  Calen knelt between them, steadying Kira by the shoulder. “You did it,” he said softly, voice calm amid

  the quiet. “We all did.”

  Renn straightened, rifle slung over his shoulder, surveying the field of glowing remains. “Count it,” he

  said.

  They moved through the smoldering wreckage, collecting the fragments, still warm to the touch, their

  cores flickering like embers.

  1,023 T1G fragments.

  Each Spartor carried their share, pouches glowing faintly as they began the long trek back to the portal.

  Renn looked back once, the horizon still glowing faintly red from the aftermath. “Not bad,” he said.

  Calen smiled faintly, lifting one of the still-warm shards into the light. “Better than not bad,” he

  murmured. “We’re just getting started.”

  The debrief was quick.

  One T2C fragment had been recorded and broken down at Calen’s request.

  Calen stood still as the holo display processed the conversion sequence in a cascade of light:

  1 T2C → 20 T1S → 400 T1A → 8,000 T1G.

  The numbers glowed like currency, each step accompanied by the faint hum of system verification.

  When it ended, a tone sounded, a soft confirmation ping that carried more weight than any applause.

  “After standard deductions,” the officer continued, “each member receives nine hundred sixty-seven

  Tier-One-Greater and twelve Tier-One-Apex fragments.”

  No one in the group said anything until the chamber doors opened and they stepped back into the main

  hall.

  Then the floodgate broke.

  When they entered the cafeteria, the noise hit like a physical force.

  Laughter, boots against steel flooring, the clatter of trays and the hum of endless conversation, until the

  first Spartor noticed them. Then another.

  Heads turned. Conversations faltered.

  Renn strode to their usual table and, with theatrical flair, dropped his fragment pouch onto the metal

  surface. The thud echoed across the room.

  “Six upgrades each!” he shouted.

  The reaction was instant.

  Cheers erupted from their table. Voss whooped, slapping the side of his gauntlet hard enough to leave a

  dent. Thane raised both fists, yelling over the noise. Kira and Erys exchanged exhausted smiles.

  Nearby Spartors turned in curiosity, then realization. Word traveled fast in the Ark, faster than any

  signal. A full seven-member team, mainly Browns, first time in a Grey, returning without a single

  fatality, and with Tier-Two fragments to show for it? That was a story worth listening to.

  Within minutes, their table was surrounded by other Browns.

  “Calen!” someone called from across the room. “That was you, right? You led that run?”

  He almost laughed. “We led it,” he said.

  But the crowd wasn’t listening to we. They were chanting his name.

  Another Spartor, armor still dusted from a recent run, stepped closer, grinning wide. “Captain, you

  taking new members? We’ve got three looking for a strong team.”

  Calen blinked at the word. Captain. It had weight. He liked it.

  He tried to wave it off, acting humble. “I’m not the captain,” he said, gesturing toward Renn. “He is.”

  Renn leaned back in his chair, arms folded, expression calm but knowing.

  “Not anymore,” he said simply.

  The room went still for half a heartbeat, then erupted again. Cheers, laughter, congratulations pounding

  against the steel walls like a tide.

  Erys slapped Calen on the shoulder. “You earned it,” he said, grin wide.

  Kira’s smile was softer, genuine, the kind that reached her eyes. “You really did,” she said quietly.

  Calen stood there for a moment, surrounded by sound and motion, a sea of faces looking at him.

  The air felt electric, every echo of his name a pulse in his chest.

  Eight days left.

  Eight days, and they were saying his name, not Bash’s.

  Across the room, the cafeteria doors opened again.

  Bash’s team entered quietly, armor scuffed, movements efficient, familiar.

  The noise dipped for only a second as a few heads turned their way. Then it rose again, drawn back

  toward the louder table, the one full of new names and louder voices.

  Rixor was the first to notice the celebration. “Looks like they made it back in one piece,” he said, voice

  neutral.

  Taren followed his gaze, expression unreadable. “Good for them.”

  Liora gave a faint shrug. “First Grey success is always loud.”

  Bash said nothing. He only glanced once in Calen’s direction, long enough to see Kira smiling, to see

  the cheers, the hands clapping his former teammate’s shoulders. Then he looked away and kept

  walking.

  They took their usual table along the far wall, setting down their trays with quiet efficiency. No

  celebration. No noise. Just calm, measured debrief among friends who had long since stopped needing

  the crowd’s approval.

  Their talk was practical. Formation times. Essence yield. Projected averages for the remaining cycle.

  Bash confirmed the numbers from S-C aloud: “We’re ahead of target. If we maintain this yield rate,

  two T2A conversions for Rixor, Taren, Nyra and myself before the end of the cycle. Liora and Darik

  one each.”

  Rixor gave a satisfied grunt. “Could finish early.”

  “Then we keep pace,” Bash replied. “Nothing changes.”

  When their meal ended, they left together, no spectacle, no noise, just six steady sets of footsteps fading

  down the corridor.

  Calen watched them from across the cafeteria.

  The cheers around him were still loud, laughter still rising, but it all dimmed in his ears as he tracked

  that small, composed group leaving without a backward glance.

  His reflection glimmered faintly in the polished metal of his cup, faint light from the Beast Fragments

  painting his features gold.

  “That’s right,” he murmured under his breath, lips curling faintly. “Begin your walk of shame.”

  He raised the cup slightly, like a silent toast. “You’ll be forgotten soon enough.”

  The others didn’t hear him.

  They were too busy celebrating.