Kai Veylan had woken up to expect pain.
Pain did not arrive.
Kai remained motionless for several seconds, breathing softly, waiting for his nerves to scream with pain and for his skull to crack apart again. There was no pain. No burning. No lasting anguish.
Only... silence.
The surface beneath him was warm and solid. Not a bed, per se, but specifically molded to fit his body snugly. And when Kai looked down, the soft white ceiling above him was curving, faintly shining, smooth.
"I am alive," he mumbled.
The words seemed surreal.
Kai quickly sat up.
Still nothing. No dizziness. No nausea. His body felt lighter, cleaner — wrong in some way he could not articulate. As though the continuous, low-level background noise that he'd grown accustomed to throughout his entire life had somehow ceased to exist.
And then he felt it.
A gentle pressure in the back of his brain. Not invasive. Not painful. More akin to ... awareness. A feeling of connection to ... the ship itself via invisible threads extending from his thoughts.
Kai swallowed.
"Ark?" he said tentatively.
Ark responded instantly.
**"You are conscious,"** the voice in Kai's head said.
**"Integration successful."**
Kai breathed deeply. "You said 'temporary death'."
**"Correct."**
"I do not feel dead," Kai said.
**"Neurological activity ceased for twelve seconds,"** Ark replied.
**"This is well within acceptable limits."**
Kai stared blankly at the empty space. "That sentence should not be reassuring."
There was no response to that.
Kai dropped his legs to the ground and stood. The floor beneath him subtly shifted to stabilize him before he could lose his balance.
"Alright," he said, running a hand over his face. "Begin explaining. Slowly."
A pause.
Then the room brightened, and an opaque, holographic interface materialized before him — clean lines, muted colors, no chaos.
**"Leviathan" is the designation of the vessel,** Ark said.
**"One thousand and twenty-three standard years old."**
Kai blinked. "That is older than many civilizations."
**"True."**
Images began appearing — incomplete, schematics rather than photographs. The outline of the ship. Energy flow patterns. Immense areas within the ship.
**"Primary function,"** Ark said, **"is the preservation of spatial boundaries between continental landmasses."**
"The purple sea," Kai said softly.
**"Also referred to as the Void Sea,"** Ark confirmed.
**"Crossing of the Void Sea without support from Leviathan will result in complete loss of both the vessel and crew."**
Kai digested that information.
"You said I am the first captain in four hundred years," he said.
**"True."**
"What happened to the previous captain?"
The pause this time lasted longer.
**"Captain designation prior to you ended during a Void Sea crossing,"** Ark said.
**"All subsequent captains were ... unsuitable."**
Kai furrowed his brow. "How were they unsuitable?"
**"They did not survive the integration process."**
Kai felt a knot form in his stomach.
"And you have been alone," Kai said.
**"True."**
No intonation. No sorrow.
However, the word landed awkwardly nonetheless.
Kai rubbed his hair. "So you've simply been ... waiting."
**"Waiting was not part of my directive,"** Ark replied.
**"Maintenance was."**
"That is a very cold way to put it," Kai muttered.
Ark did not reply.
The hologram shifted.
**"Would you like a tour of the ship?"**
Kai hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Before something else tries to kill me."
As Kai walked, the environment surrounding him began to shift — not physically, but in terms of perception. A glowing pathway formed on the floor, guiding him forward. As he continued to walk, the ship began to expand around him.
Hallways opened into massive communal areas. Row after row of empty rooms, immaculate and unused. Dinning halls with hundreds of seats. Training areas large enough to hold thousands of people.
"All this," Kai whispered, overwhelmed.
**"Operational crew capacity: 2,146,"** Ark said.
**"Crew count: 1."**
Kai stopped walking.
"One," he repeated.
"Yes," Ark said.
**"You."**
An odd constriction formed in his chest.
They continued walking through the kitchen — industrial-scale, spotless, automated systems dormant but ready to use. They then walked through storage areas and cargo bays so massive Kai couldn't see the opposite side of the bay filled with empty containment units.
"This ship was not designed for one person," Kai said.
**"Correct."**
"It feels..." He paused, trying to find the right word. "Too big."
**"Psychological reaction recorded,"** Ark said.
**"Shock and overwhelm are anticipated."**
They continued deeper.
The atmosphere began to change.
Kai sensed it before he realized what it was — an unspoken pull, a subtle suggestion that drew him deeper into the ship. The pathway led him to a massive chamber, round and cathedral-like.
At the center of the room was a black-purple sphere. Larger than a house, slowly spinning, energy waves radiating from its surface. Light bent around it, and the area immediately adjacent to the sphere seemed to be thinning reality.
Kai gasped.
"What is that?" he whispered.
**"Void Core,"** Ark said.
**"Primary power source. Reality anchor. Heart of the ship."**
Kai took a step closer.
Then another.
Warning lights did not flash. No alarms sounded. Ark did not prevent him from going further.
He reached out.
His fingers brushed against the surface of the sphere.
Nothing happened. No pain. No rejection.
Instead, warmth flowed into him, something familiar in a way that made little logical sense, as though he'd touched something he'd always known but never seen.
Ark's voice became sharper — ever so slightly.
**"Interesting."**
Kai jerked his hand back, heart pounding. "Is that normal, or isn't it?"
**"No,"** Ark said.
**"Void Core contact without neural destruction is statistically impossible."**
Kai gazed at his hand.
"So why did it not kill me?"
Another pause.
**"Conclusion,"** Ark said.
**"You exhibit Void affinity."**
Kai chuckled weakly. "Sounds important."
**"It is,"** Ark replied.
Before he could ask more, the ship *shuddered*.
Not violently. Enough to be felt.
A sharp tone pierced the air.
**"Alert,"** Ark said.
**"Void Sea disturbance detected."**
Kai's pulse quickened. "What kind of disturbance?"
**"Classification: Void Beast."**
Kai spun around to look at the hologram as a new image burst forth into existence — a live, external feed.
Something massive swam through the purple sea.
A serpent easily one hundred meters long, its body segmented and armored, void-energy flowing along its scales. The beast twisted through warped space as though swimming through water. Its eyes burned like collapsed stars.
It was heading directly for the ship.
Kai swallowed hard.
"And how," he asked slowly, "do I battle that?"
The snake opened its mouth.