Kael reached them.
Max and Ash just stood there, arms crossed, both staring at him like he'd grown another head.
Kael frowned.
"What?"
Max raised a brow.
"It's just weird seeing you like that. You, playing hero for kids."
Kael shrugged and stepped past them.
"I like kids. That's all."
They followed as he walked.
"But did you really have to tell them about Dad's mission?" Max said. "If that spreads, and the wrong people hear it—"
"They're kids,"
Kael cut in.
"They won't even remember half of what I said."
Max didn't answer, but his frown deepened.
The three reached the landing zone. Their ship sat waiting—sleek and dark, its frame shaped like a winged spear. Light shimmered across the armor-plated hull, and beneath the main body, clawed landing gear dug into the stone. Twin thrusters glowed dim red, pulsing like a heartbeat. The front bore the sigil of Vortex: a spiral carved into black steel.
Max let out a long yawn.
"Let's head back. First mission down. Time to unpack."
Kael groaned, dragging his feet toward the ramp.
"Seriously? Still have to unpack all that junk? Can't you just build a bot or something?"
Max smirked.
"I will. After I set up my lab. And link everything to base systems."
They entered the ship. The ramp hissed closed behind them.
Engines roared to life, dust swirling. The vessel lifted, then shot into the sky, vanishing into the clouds like a black arrow.
---
Ash leaned into the soft couch, head tipped back, arms resting at his sides. The low hum of base systems buzzed all around him—steady, quiet, alive.
His eyes closed.
Warmth crept through his chest, slow at first… then sharper. Like something waking up inside.
A pulse.
It crawled beneath his skin. Static brushed his nerves. His breath stilled.
Then he heard it.
"[Your Soulcore status…]"
A voice that sound exactly like his but more mechanical. It etched itself into the marrow of his thoughts.
Ash blinked—and the world shattered.
No base. No couch. No hum.
Only void.
He stood ankle-deep in a black sea that gave off no ripples, no movement. Cold water didn't wet his skin. It only mirrored him.
His reflection looked back—same face, same eyes—but the feeling was wrong. The thing staring from below didn't blink and it's face shows no emotion.
Above, the sky was gone. But three orbs hung in the emptiness.
One burned like a second sun, orange fire licking in all directions.
Another cracked with lightning—jagged veins of blue surging through stormy glass.
And the last… was shadow. Shifting, pulsing, still. Like it was watching.
Ash was already used to this sight.
The silence pressed harder than noise ever could.
The voice came again, cold and carved from silence:
[STATUS]
Name: Ashley Burns
Soulcore: [Hybrid]
Soul Pool: (3000/3000) 89%
Core Stage: [Initiated]
Vessel Tier: Fifth
Skills: [7]
Ash didn't move.
The numbers floated in his mind like chains—unchanged, unmoved. That same ceiling above him. That same weight inside his chest.
He breathed in.
And out.
Still.
"The same numbers. The same locked potential."
His hand twitched against the couch.
Nothing had shifted.
No breakthrough. No sign.
A hollow breath left his lungs. He tried to let it go. But it stayed there, thick in his chest like smoke that refused to rise.
Then—
A voice, sharp and cutting, pierced the silence.
"What are you doing? We still have a lot to do."
It echoed just like the voice in the void—too close, too sudden.
But Ash knew it.
Kael.
His eyes stayed shut, mind floating in the space between now and something deeper.
'He never rests. We just got back, and he's already acting like we're in the middle of a war.'
Ash shifted slightly, sinking deeper into the couch. The cushions welcomed him like a slow fall into water.
"We're living here now. We've got time. We don't have to do everything in a day," he muttered.
Heavy steps struck the metal floor.
Then—weight. A shadow.
Kael loomed above him, arms wrapped around a box filled with tangled wires and jagged pieces of gear. His brow furrowed, fire-hued eyes fixed on Ash.
"What am I going to do with you?"
Ash cracked one eye open.
Kael looked like someone who'd been awake for days, even though he hadn't. It was just how he carried himself—like the world was always on fire and only he could put it out.
Before Kael could say more, another voice came through—calm, cool, edged with tiredness.
"Well… he's not wrong."
Footsteps followed, quiet but firm.
Max stepped in. White lab coat. Clean black hair. Eyes shadowed by too many late nights.
He carried another box, more wires, more broken tech.
Every step was deliberate.
Kael turned toward him, eyes narrowing.
"Wait. You're taking his side now?"
Max gave a simple nod.
"Yeah. We can slow down. We've done enough for today. Let him rest. We'll finish tomorrow."
Silence settled for a breath.
Kael's jaw worked, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he dropped the box.
CRACK.
Plastic snapped. Wires flew.
The contents burst across the floor like shattered veins—metal, glass, and copper spilling in a tangle of useless pieces.
"HEY!"
Max lunged forward, almost tripping.
He dropped to his knee, hands working fast, sweeping through the mess.
"You know I keep my prototypes in here!"
He flipped a half-crushed module, checking for life. The screen was dead.
He picked up another. Cracked.
"Why would you do that?!"
His voice broke—not loud, but frayed. Like something finally snapped under pressure.
Kael didn't answer.
Not right away.
Arms crossed, shoulders squared, he stood like a statue carved from pride.
"Weren't you the one who said we should take a break?"
His voice was flat, but every word aimed to stab.
"Just because Ash got a little tired?"
Ash cracked one eye open. The name pulled him back into the room like a hook in the ribs. His hair hung over his vision, strands tangled from hours spent on the couch. He didn't bother fixing it.
'Great. They're dragging me into this now.'
On the floor, Max ran a hand through his hair. His fingers gripped tighter than they needed to.
"Damn it... You broke something."
Kael shrugged.
"Should've thought of that before you said to rest."
He stretched, spine arching, muscles shifting beneath the light armor he never took off. Like he was already tired of being in the room.
"I guess this is good. Since we're waiting till tomorrow, I'll be in the training hall."
He turned.
Boots struck the floor in sharp, clean beats as he walked off, the sound echoing in the metal chamber. Right before the doorway swallowed him, he paused.
"You can pay me back there, if you're feeling brave."
His smirk followed him into the hall.
Max stared at the mess for a long second.
"That brat..."
He dropped to his knees again, fingers brushing over wires and shards of cracked plastic. His face tightened as he lifted a scorched piece of circuitry—beyond repair.
Behind him, from the depths of the couch, Ash gave a low, quiet laugh.
"You know how Kael is."
Max didn't look up.
He sighed, eyes scanning the wreckage like he could still save something from it.
"Yeah. That ego. Always going on about being the 'Son of Flame.'"
He deepened his voice in mockery, throwing in a dramatic flair.
Ash smirked, eyes still shut. His voice came softer this time.
"I'm glad you lost the bet."
Max blinked, pausing mid-motion.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Ash turned his head a little, letting his hair fall further over his face.
"I wouldn't want a girl on the team. Besides... you're my brother. If you'd won, you'd be gone on some far-off mission. And I'd be stuck here. Alone."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Max didn't speak.
He stared at the parts in his hands, then set them down slowly in the box.
A breath escaped him—long, steady, quiet.
"I guess... you've got a point."
Max set the box aside with a quiet grunt, then dropped onto the couch beside Ash. He rubbed his temples, elbows resting on his knees. Neither spoke.
The low hum of the base pulsed through the room—steady, distant, like a machine breathing in the dark.
After a while, Ash broke the silence.
"I'm gonna miss everyone back in the city."
His voice was calm, but the corner of his mouth pulled upward—not a smile, just the ghost of one. The kind that lingered in memory, not joy.
Max leaned back, draping an arm across the top of the couch.
"Yeah. Same. But now I'm stuck babysitting you two."
Ash turned his head, just enough to glance at him, one brow lifting.
'Babysitting?'
"You lost the duel, remember? That's why you're here. And I'm not the kid I used to be."
Max didn't argue. He shrugged, letting the weight roll off him.
"Say what you want. I bet Dad calls us any day now—tells me to take charge again."
Ash tilted his head back, letting it rest against the couch. His grin grew, quiet and sharp.
"Would you really want Kael leading?"
Max scoffed, voice low.
"Hell no. I'd rather hand it to you than that power-hungry freak."
Ash chuckled, eyes still closed.
'Yeah. That'd be a disaster.'
Max stood, stretching his arms until his shoulders popped. His eyes scanned the room—the makeshift home, the scattered wires, the unfamiliar metal walls.
"I'll be in the lab. The base is solid, but I'm not used to half this junk. Still need to hook my PC into the system."
Ash didn't move.
"Max."
Max paused in the doorway.
"What?"
Ash didn't answer right away. The hum returned—machines behind walls, the world outside moving without them.
When Ash finally spoke, his voice was lower, almost unsure.
"You think Dad and the others will be alright… out there?"
Max didn't reply at once. His eyes narrowed, but his smile returned—not full, but firm. A quiet flame behind it.
"Come on. It's Dad. The guy's Flame. You know how many times he's been sent off-world? He'll be fine."
Ash let the words sink in. His breath eased out slow. Not doubt—just distance.
"Yeah… you're right."
Max lingered for a moment longer, then stepped into the hallway. The door slid shut behind him, and the hum swallowed the silence again.
Ash remained still, shadows dancing on his face. The grin had faded.
His thoughts didn't.