“Roseworm” is a word used only on Earth.

  Beyond Earth, no organism can even pronounce it.

  The moment they try, the word twists into something else—

  Ringworm.

  A strange, crooked spaceship suddenly landed near one of Neil’s blood-soaked hands.

  Neil lay on the ground, his face brutally torn open by a broken metal rod that had forced itself into his cheek.

  He was breathing too fast and too weak at the same time, screaming like someone who had already broken inside:

  “HAHAHAHA—STEV! TON! COME BACK!”

  He tried to cry, but something was blocking his tears. His eyes felt sealed shut from the inside.

  His body wouldn’t move at all—like invisible ropes had tied his legs and chest to the ground.

  After three long minutes, the spaceship finally opened, and six strange organisms stepped out.

  The ship itself was the size of a refrigerator, black-grey with yellow stripes.

  The one standing directly in front of Neil was small, violet-skinned, and had four eyes. He spoke in a language Neil had never heard:

  “haan lopa no we ho se na ja to geko noap!”

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  Neil stared, confused and shaking.

  “I… I can’t understand you, friend. Please… please help me. Help my friends. Take my life if you want, but save them. They don’t deserve this.”

  The small violet being took out a device that looked like a black AirPod and shoved it into Neil’s ear so hard it felt like a nail being hammered in.

  Instants later—

  Neil could understand their language.

  All six organisms were violet, wearing red uniforms with flowing yellow cloaks.

  One stepped forward proudly and said:

  “We are the Quils. We live to protect wormholes.”

  Neil barely reacted to understanding them; he was too numb.

  He also noticed something terrifying—

  He wasn’t feeling any pain, even though his face looked like it had been blasted by a close-range shotgun.

  The same Quil kept talking proudly:

  “I am the Hone—President of Huraha. The Huraha was created from our thoughts, reversed by the ringworm. The ringworm made us its protectors.”

  That word again—ringworm.

  Neil realised he, his friends, even the AI… none of them had been able to say “Roseworm” since leaving Earth.

  Neil folded his hands, tears leaking strangely from the wounds on his arms instead of his eyes.

  “Please… save my precious friends. I don’t want to lose them. Take my body, my brain—anything. Just save them.”

  The small Quil bent down and licked Neil’s tears off his arm, then said:

  “If the ringworm chose to kill them, there must be a reason. We cannot save them unless the ringworm approves.”

  Neil forced himself to stand, raging:

  “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE RINGWORM!

  I am offering myself—so there shouldn’t be a problem!”

  A female Quil walked out of the spaceship at that moment.

  She glared at the others.

  “This boy is our guest. The one we have waited for… for a very long time. Behave.”

  Instantly, every Quil’s eyes widened.

  They all bent down to their knees and roared:

  “We are honoured to welcome you… Master Junior!”

  Neil froze.

  A species from another celestial world…

  bowing to him?

  He wiped the blood off his face with trembling fingers.

  “Why are you calling me master? I’m just… I’m just a normal human…”

  At that moment, a large, bus-shaped vehicle rolled toward them.

  Its bottom half was red, top half violet.

  The Quils lifted Neil—and the dead bodies of Steve and Tony—and threw all three inside. Then they boarded.

  Neil shouted, panicked:

  “Where are you taking us?! I told you to SAVE them!”

  Instead of answering, every Quil looked at him and asked:

  “What is your name, Master Junior?”

  Neil hesitated.

  “Neil… Neil Sako.”

  Every Quil smirked at the same time.

  “Your bloodline is HOLY.”