The Blind Sector didn’t care about navigation. It barely cared about physics.

  As the Iron Vector shuddered into the main orbital staging area — a jagged cluster of lashed-together asteroids shielded by a localized dome of artificial gravity — the sheer scale of the Vorr operation became dizzying. This wasn’t a small covert retrieval mission led by a desperate prince. This was a siege against entropy itself.

  Dozens of heavy transports hung in the bruised violet haze, docked at the asteroids like parasitic mosquitoes feeding on rock. Fuel lines ran between ships and refineries hastily constructed in zero-G. The space around them flickered with the erratic lightning of the storms, kept at bay by constant, pulsing waves of blue shield energy.

  “Expendable,” I whispered through Valen’s voice, watching another shuttle limp into a docking bay with half its hull scorch-marked and venting atmosphere.

  My main consciousness, safe in the hab-pod on Vorr-Epsilon, processed the incoming sensory data with cold clarity.

  Squad 23 was just one of many. We weren’t the spearhead. We were buckshot. Fired blindly into the fog, hoping one pellet hit something valuable or triggered a trap so the real soldiers could walk over our corpses.

  We disembarked onto the central asteroid, Station Gamma. The gravity plating was wonky, fluctuating wildly due to the mana storms, making everyone walk with a seasick gait.

  The base was chaotic. Mercenaries argued over hazard pay in a dozen System translated languages. Tech-priests in Vorr livery calibrated massive scanners that screamed with static interference. The air smelled of recycled ozone, cheap stim-packs, and fear.

  And at the center of the madness, overseeing the deployment from a hovering dais made of pure polished jade, was the Mission Commander.

  He was an Ascendant.

  My soul tightened instinctively even through the link. He wasn’t as powerful as someone with a Primordial Affinity like Syntheia, or a force of nature like Millimos’ Father presumably was. But the pressure was unmistakable.

  He was a Kyorian, but twisted by exposure to something unnatural. His skin wasn't just stone-like; it was stone. Veins of glowing blue lava ran through his arms. He didn’t wear armor; his body had calcified into a walking fortification.

  “Silence!” he roared. He didn’t use any device to amplify his voice. He simply commanded the soundwaves to carry it to every ear on the station, drowning out the ambient hum of the shield generators.

  The chatter died instantly. Even the welding torches stopped.

  “I am Overseer Stone-Heart. You are here because the House needs eyes in the dark. We are searching for a Resonance Frequency. You have been given scanners tuned to this band.”

  He swept his gaze over the assembly — easily over a thousand mercenaries of varying lethality.

  “This Sector resists order. It shifts. Planets appear and disappear in the storm. Your mission is simple: Map the shifts. Locate the source. If you die, try to die near a transmitter so we can retrieve your data and provide compensation for your families. Dismissed.”

  My heart hammered in my chest back in the hab-pod. Stone-Heart’s gaze passed over our team. Over Valen.

  The Veil held.

  He didn’t see the Void-Star spinning in the clone’s chest or the fact that multiple Primordial Affinities were hidden behind the Veil. He didn’t sense the shard of my consciousness piloting the puppet. He saw a Tier 6 Kineticist looking bored and checking his nails.

  “That’s good,” I muttered to Nyx, exhaling slowly. “Syntheia’s training holds. I’m invisible to Low Tier 9s unless they actively dig for me.”

  Our squad was corralled into a briefing room — a glorified cargo container bolted to the rock. Captain Joryn handed out the scanners: chunky, heavy devices that looked like Geiger counters from the dark ages of tech.

  I sat next to the Sylph scout, whose name I learned was Rael’a. She was shaking so hard her iridescent wings were blurring.

  “It’s suicide,” she whispered, clutching her weapon like a lifeline. “Did you see the hull of that incoming ship? Something took a bite out of it. Metal doesn’t tear like that unless…”

  “Something big,” I agreed, affecting Valen’s gruff nonchalance. “Just means bigger pay if we kill it.”

  “We aren’t here to kill,” Rael’a hissed, her eyes wide. “We’re here to look for a needle in a haystack while the haystack tries to eat us.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  We deployed an hour later.

  But not to a specific target.

  The drop coordinates were randomized. The Blind Sector scrambled targeting devices, so the ships were just… dropping squads onto any stable mass they could find in a grid search pattern.

  Our drop zone was Planetoid X-77. A chunk of rock the size of a continent, floating in a dense cloud of acidic gas that obscured all stars.

  The Iron Vector punched through the clouds, turbulence rattling the bolts. We landed in a crater field. The air was breathable but tasted like copper coins and rotten eggs.

  “Deploy scanners!” Joryn barked as the ramp lowered. “Defensive formation. Eyes open. Anything moves, kill it. If it doesn’t die, run.”

  We fanned out. The landscape was grey dust and jagged crystal formations that hummed when the wind hit them. It was desolate, alien, and empty.

  I walked the perimeter, pretending to scan rocks with the useless Kyorian device.

  Back on Kyris-9, I pulled back from the link slightly, letting Valen run on autopilot sub-routines while I strategized.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Problem,” I announced to the room. “It’s a blind search. Random drops. Even if we sabotage this squad… there are a hundred others. We might never even get close to the Compass. We’re just wandering in the dark.”

  “We need to find it before they do,” Arthur said from the Spire.

  “With what?” Nyx asked, frustrated. “The scanners they gave you are garbage. They pick up background radiation as false positives constantly. They rely on volume of searchers, not precision of tools.”

  “Why don’t they use better tech?” I frowned. “The Kyorians are advanced. They can easily build dyson spheres and warp drives, but not a better searching device…?”

  “Because they lack the Affinity,” Jeeves explained, projecting a diagram of the Void Lattice in the center of the room. “They use technomancy to brute-force detection. They are shouting into the void and listening for an echo. But to find a specific item lost in the chaos of a Blind Sector… you need to listen to the silence.”

  “They are antagonistic to Void Factions,” Zareth added, peeling a star-fruit. “They likely purged any specialist who could navigate this properly eons ago. They view the Void as a resource to be strip-mined or a disease to be cured, not an environment to be understood. Their arrogance blinds them.”

  I looked at Leoric’s icon on the screen.

  “Leoric. Can we build something better? Something that uses my Void perception?”

  “You want a customized sniffer?” Leoric mused, the sound of welding torches audible in the background of his feed. “Something that ignores the noise and tracks the specific conceptual weight of the artifact?”

  “Exactly. Something that can function in the Void. We can use it to detect specific frequencies after I calibrate it with the device they gave us.”

  “I can do it,” Leoric said, his voice rising in excitement. “You can put the device they gave the clone into the Maw and then I can extract the frequency if you give it to me. If I link a detection array to a shard of your [Void-Star]… we can filter out everything except the specific ‘Compass-Ness’ of the target.”

  “How long?”

  “Two days. I need to calibrate the sensor crystal with Null-Steel to withstand the Sector’s entropy.”

  “We have two days,” I decided. “Valen can wander the rocks and play soldier. When the device is ready, I’ll transfer it.”

  “Worst case scenario, I can try to acquire a new treasure detecting skill,” I said, pulling up my Status Sheet for a review. It had been a while since I checked the hard numbers.

  NAME: Eren Kai

  STAGE: 2

  CORE ATTRIBUTES:

  SOUL STRENGTH: S+

  SOUL GATE INTEGRITY: Grade S+

  ESSENCE MANIFESTATION:

  BODY: 760

  MANA: 765

  SPIRIT: 770

  SYSTEM SKILLS (9/10 Slots Used):

  [Domain of the Ashen Phoenix] (Mythic)

  [Prime Axiom’s Nullifying Veil] (Mythic)

  [The Void-Star’s Hunger] (Mythic)

  [Void Walk] (Legendary)

  [Void Perception] (Legendary)

  [Apex Mana Authority] (Legendary)

  [Phoenix Rebirth] (Legendary)

  [Echo of the Ashen Sovereign] (Legendary)

  [Armory of the Ashen Soul] (Epic)

  “You have one slot,” Jeeves reminded me. “You could learn a Tracking skill. But attempting it with an item is more prudent. Skill slots are precious. Once filled, they are permanent. Unless you can find a way to integrate it to your Perception somehow.”

  “Agreed. I will save the slot for something combat-critical or world-breaking whenever the need arises. If Leoric fails, then I’ll reconsider.”

  For two days, Valen walked the grey wastes of Planetoid X-77.

  It was boring work, punctuated by moments of terror.

  A squad member, the sniper-twin called Pix, wandered too close to a crystal formation. The crystal screamed — a sonic burst that liquified his organs inside his armor.

  Captain Joryn shot the crystal apart and burned the body. No burial. Just efficiency. “Log it. Casualty: Environmental. And collect his belongings.”

  I subtly consumed some of the scream with Valen’s localized Hunger, refilling his mana.

  But we found no Compass. Just endless rocks and bad weather.

  On the third morning, a ping came from the Sanctum connection.

  “It is done,” Leoric announced.

  “Transfer,” I ordered.

  Back on the planetoid, Valen stepped behind a ridge, out of sight of the others who were taking a ration break.

  I activated the Sanctum’s remote access protocol — the Singularity allowing me access wherever, through the link within my Soul.

  I reached into my inventory.

  Usually, I pulled swords or armor. This time, I pulled out a small, unassuming black box. It looked like a compass, but instead of a needle, it had a suspended drop of mercury floating in the center of a void-field.

  [Item: The Ashen Seeker]

  [Tier: Legendary]

  [Function: Resonance Tracking. Filters ambient noise to locate specific Void-Signatures based on input frequency.]

  I held it in Valen’s hand. The metal was cold.

  I pushed my memory of the Ancestor’s Compass into the mercury. The data I had stolen from Millimos’ hologram flowed into the device.

  The liquid spun. It vibrated violently.

  It ignored the noisy crystals nearby. It ignored the chaotic storm above.

  It pointed.

  Steadily, unwavering, the drop of mercury extended a spike toward the north-west. Not on this planetoid. But off-world. Towards a deep nebula cluster that looked like a bruised eye in the sky.

  “Gotcha,” Valen whispered.

  I hid the device in the Void Maw, shielded from scans.

  “Captain Joryn!” Valen shouted, running back to the group, waving his chunky Kyorian scanner. “My scanner is picking up a strange interference pattern! High-altitude resonance!”

  “Interference?” Joryn stomped over, his face masked against the acid wind. “Let me see.”

  I showed him the Kyorian scanner — which I had surreptitiously fed a small burst of chaotic mana to make it glitch out spectacularly. The screen was static snow.

  “Useless tech,” Joryn spat, banging it on his armored thigh. “But… interference usually means an Anomaly. Or a signal masking field.”

  He tapped his comms. “Command, this is S23. Possible signature detection in quadrant North-West. Requesting reallocation. Coordinates uploaded.”

  He fell for it. The Kyorians were so desperate for a lead they would chase glitches.

  “Good work, merc,” Joryn grunted at me. “Maybe you’re worth the air you breathe.”

  “Just doing the job, sir,” Valen replied, his face blank.

  The transport arrived an hour later to pick us up.

  We were moving. And unlike the Kyorians who relied on volume and luck, I knew exactly where we were going.

  The Compass was calling. And the Hunger was answering.