The cage snapped into place around Leo's world with the silent, terrible finality of a predator's jaw. One moment, the sky was a tapestry of three suns and endless stars; the next, it was a sterile, hexagonal grid, humming with a low, oppressive energy that vibrated in the teeth.
Leo was jolted from a deep, satisfying sleep. It wasn't the hum that woke him, but a feeling. A cold, grating sensation he hadn't felt since his reincarnation. It was the feeling of being constrained. Of being owned.
He sat up, his eyes falling on the artificial sky. A memory, sharp and bitter, surfaced from his old life: the suffocating feeling of his tiny apartment, the gray walls of his cubicle, the invisible cage of debt and exhaustion that had crushed the life out of him. This new cage was prettier, shinier, but it felt exactly the same.
A profound, soul-deep irritation settled over him. He had not clawed his way through death just to end up in another box.
As this thought crossed his mind, a simple, elegant panel of light shimmered into existence before him—the first he had seen since his arrival.
> [Core Protocol Violation: Unrestricted Status Impeded.]
> [Query: Rectify?]
>
Leo stared at the message. He didn't understand the words, but he understood the feeling behind them. The universe, or whatever System was running his afterlife, was telling him that this cage was wrong. It was asking for permission to fix it.
A fiery, vengeful part of him wanted to unleash hell. But that sounded like a lot of work. The dominant part of him, the part that had earned him this rest, just wanted the annoying hum to stop so he could go back to sleep.
He flopped back onto his pillows, giving the panel a lazy mental prod. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Just make it quiet."
Aboard the Stardust Drifter, a triumphant calm had settled on the bridge. The quarantine field was stable. The specimen was contained. Dr. Aris was happily cataloging the entity's initial stress response.
Then, every console on the bridge turned blood red.
"Captain!" the helm officer screamed, his voice cracking with panic. "I've lost control! All ship functions are unresponsive!"
"External command override!" another officer yelled. "Source… source unknown!"
Captain Rostova stared at the main viewscreen. A new line of text was burning itself onto the screen, written in a stark, simple font that was utterly alien to their systems.
> [Rectification in Progress…]
> [Integrating Foreign Asset: 'Quarantine Field' into Host's System.]
> [Integrating Foreign Asset: 'Research Vessel' into Host's System.]
>
Dr. Aris's three eyes widened in a way Rostova had never seen before—not with excitement, but with sheer, unadulterated terror. He finally understood.
"It's not breaking the cage, Captain," the scientist whispered, his voice trembling. "It's claiming it."
The ship gave a violent lurch, not from an impact, but as if its very existence had been reassigned to a new owner. The low hum of the Xylosian engines died, replaced by an unnerving silence.
Dr. Aris stumbled back from his console, a horrifying realization dawning on his face. "Captain… we are no longer the observers. Our ship, the field, all of it… we've just become features of the exhibit."
They were trapped. Not outside the cage, looking in. But inside, with him. The specimen had just become the zookeeper, and they were the newest, most interesting animals in his collection.