Year 798, Imperial Calendar of Vorakh
Location: Aerial Dreadnought "The Leviathan" – Altitude: 2,000 meters.
The Dreadnought's turbines roared, struggling to maintain altitude. Through the armored glass, an ocean of black clouds and violet lightning battered the fuselage.
Below, miles away, a world covered in gray ash was visible, where burnt structures looked like broken teeth in a dead mouth.
Inside the cargo bay, the atmosphere was tense but professional. We were seated on metal benches, secured with military-grade harnesses. Across from me, four of the Empire's brightest minds analyzed the catastrophe with cold efficiency.
"Stabilizing containment field," said Magister Elara of the White Tower, striking the floor with her staff. "The ether is aggressive here. It tries to devour my spells; it is active entropy."
Beside her, Engineer Jorin of the Iron Guild typed furiously on his data gauntlet, connected directly to the ship's sensors.
"Entropy doesn't explain the patterns, Magister," Jorin corrected without looking at her, his bionic eye rotating to process data streams. "I detect a transmission signal beneath the static. It is complex binary code, similar to Titan Era dialects. That 'thing' down there isn't a natural phenomenon; it's a machine, and it's scanning us."
Dr. Aris, the Imperial pathologist, checked a dosimeter with a furrowed brow. He was old, but his hands didn't shake.
"Machine or magic, the result is biological toxicity," Aris stated, showing the reading to his colleagues. "The necrotic radiation on the surface would kill a normal man in two hours. We shouldn't land. We should deploy probes and retreat to the stratosphere before our own DNA begins to unravel."
The fourth member, the young theorist Lorken, was pale and sweating, gripping his harness. Although he looked sick from the turbulence, his eyes were wide open, processing variables invisible to the others.
"It's not radiation..." Lorken whispered, his voice cracking. "It's dimensional displacement. The space outside is not Euclidean. We are flying into a wound in reality."
I remained silent, adjusting my gloves. Beside me, Sergeant Grix remained motionless, a granite gargoyle taking up two seats.
"Brilliant theories," I intervened, cutting through the charged air. "But you all make the same mistake."
The four scientists turned to me. Elara raised an eyebrow, defiant.
"Enlighten us, Acheron. What does your Bio-engineering see that magic and technology miss?"
I leaned forward, looking each of them in the eye.
"Rigidity," I replied. "You look for fixed rules where there are none. Magic, mechanics, and medicine will fail here." I placed a hand on Grix's shoulder. "Biology adapts. Grix is a closed system. When your equipment fails, he will still be standing."
Jorin was about to retort, but a shockwave hit the ship. It wasn't wind; it was a gravitational shift.
The turbines died with a metallic whine. The lights exploded.
No one screamed. They were veterans.
"Main systems failure!" shouted Jorin in the dark. "Switching to manual hydraulics!"
"Lumos!" Elara's staff illuminated the cabin, revealing the critical tilt of the ship.
My calibration glasses vibrated in my pocket, reacting to the proximity of the source.
"We've crossed the perimeter," I said. "Your instruments have just died. We are in free fall."
General Thorne's voice broke through the emergency intercom, powered by chemical batteries, sounding metallic and distant.
—Attention! Loss of propulsion! Tactical Descent Protocol! Visual flight!
The transport dropped like a stone. G-force crushed us against our seats.
I looked at Grix amidst the chaos. The giant showed no fear, only a stony calm. He looked at me and nodded once.
"Solid," his deep voice rumbled.
"Solid," I replied, gripping the harness.
"Compensators at 110%!" roared Jorin. "Redirecting life support to brakes!"
"Aether Anchor!" Elara cast a net of white light over the hull to prevent it from cracking.
The Leviathan fired retrorockets and hit the ground.
The impact was heavy, but controlled. The ship skidded across the ash desert, metal screeching and groaning under the strain, until it came to a complete stop.
Grix kept his arm in front of me during the deceleration, acting as a living safety bar that didn't even tremble.
Silence. Only the hiss of cooling engines and the white glow of Elara's staff.
Thorne stepped out of the cockpit, walking steadily, without a scratch.
"Status," he ordered.
"Hull intact," reported Engineer Jorin, checking an analog reading. "Landing gear damaged and air intakes clogged with ash. I'll need six hours to purge the system and get us operational again."
"You'll do that when we get back, Engineer," Thorne cut in, loading his bolter pistol. "Priority now is information. I want you down there with us. We need to analyze that thing before it decides to attack."
Thorne looked at the group.
"We are at ground zero. The outside atmosphere is toxic, and reality is unstable. No one goes out without protection."
"Hostile environment protocols!" ordered the General, pulling out his respirator. "You have one minute to gear up."
No one hesitated. They were the Empire's intellectual elite, and each had their method.
Jorin pressed his belt. A distortion field wrapped around his head with an electric hum.
Dr. Aris took out a lead flask, swallowed two alchemical iodine pills, and put on a gas mask.
Lorken, pale but composed, pulled out a runic collar that created a bubble of breathable air around his face.
Magister Elara struck the floor with her staff. A halo of white light surrounded her, creating a purifying barrier against the corrupt ether.
I opened my case and pulled out a pneumatic injector loaded with glowing amber liquid. I pressed it directly against my carotid.
Sshhh-clack.
The cellular adaptation serum entered my bloodstream. My pupils dilated, and I felt a brief burn as my lungs chemically reconfigured.
I looked at Grix. The sergeant did nothing. He simply closed the secondary membranes of his armored nostrils with a wet click. He was already built for this.
"Adaptation complete," I murmured, putting away the injector.
Thorne adjusted his own mask and nodded, seeing we were ready.
"Magister, seal the airlock behind us," the General ordered. "We don't want anything entering the ship while we are out."
Elara nodded.
I unbuckled my harness and grabbed my case.
"Sergeant Grix," I called.
The giant stood up, vibrating the metal floor.
"Secure the ramp perimeter."
"Understood."
The ramp lowered with a hydraulic moan.
The air rushed in, dry and heavy with ash. The sensors on Thorne's suit blinked red.
I adjusted my calibration glasses and walked down the ramp.
"Let's see what has scared the Empire so much."