CHAPTER 4: "BENEATH THE BONES OF CYBRAWL" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

BY WILLIAM WARNER

CHAPTER 4: "BENEATH THE BONES OF CYBRAWL" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

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The surface of Cybrawl was still healing—burning embers and twisted metal littered the craters and husks of buildings that once teemed with life. The once-proud capital now stood quiet, save for the hum of repair drones and the whisper of wind against the broken glass towers. Yet even in this silence, danger still stirred. Beneath our boots, the sewers whispered secrets.

I stood at the edge of a breach in the ferrocrete, staring down into the darkness that bled beneath the city. Beside me stood Emily, silent and tense, her black leather suit glinting faintly in the filtered light. Behind us, Joseph activated a portable scanner, his armored fingers dancing across the display as he pinpointed Serenity’s signal.

“There,” he said, voice low. “She’s alive. Weak vitals, but stable. Approximately two levels down.”

Valrra stepped forward, her face drawn with concern. “You’re certain it’s her and not another shapeshifter?”

“No,” I said. “But we’ll find out soon enough.”

Deathskull, his dark cloak fluttering in the toxic breeze, gave a curt nod. “Droid L-84 and I will establish a perimeter here. No one gets in or out.”

I nodded. “Good. Let’s move.”

The descent into the sewer tunnels was like stepping into another world—humid, fetid, and alive with the hum of something ancient. Bioluminescent moss clung to the arched walls, casting eerie green glows across the stagnant pools of chemical waste and rainwater. The further we ventured, the more the city above faded into myth. Down here, the Hive's taint festered.

We found Serenity half-buried beneath a shattered filtration duct, her breathing ragged, her skin pale. Joseph rushed to her first, cutting through the debris with his blade. I crouched beside him, lifting her gently as she stirred.

“William…?” she murmured, blinking up at me.

“I’ve got you,” I said.

She winced as she tried to sit up. “The sniper... I followed him... through the lower vents... but he changed. Right in front of me.”

“Changed?” Emily asked, kneeling beside us.

Serenity nodded weakly. “Skin split open... bones cracked. I saw his mouth widen... the teeth…”

She didn’t need to finish. We already knew.

Joseph glanced at me. I knew that look—he was ready.

I stood, pulling my magical chainsword from my back. “Emily. Valrra. Stay here with Serenity. Guard her. I don’t care if the whole damn Hive shows up, don’t let anyone near her.”

Deathskull’s voice crackled through the communicator. “Affirmative. L-84 and I are redirecting all combat drones to your location.”

I looked at Joseph. “Let’s end this.”

We moved through the tunnels like shadows, blades drawn, breath held. The trail was clear—deep gashes along the metal walls, strange slime pooled in the corners, faint growls echoing just beyond the torchlight. Something was nesting.

Finally, we reached it.

A massive chamber opened before us—an ancient water reservoir long since abandoned, its rusted scaffolding crumbled into the waters below. At its center, crouched in a pool of its own making, was the creature. Its skin shifted and squirmed, like muscles fighting each other beneath translucent flesh. Its arms were elongated, clawed, the mouth a split-jaw horror of twisting shark fangs.

And it wasn’t alone.

Clusters of pulsating eggs clung to the walls, webbed in mucus and thrumming with faint, unnatural life. The creature hissed as we approached, its black eyes

locking onto us with hatred.

It lunged.

Joseph was the first to strike, his blade flashing through the air with deadly precision. I came in behind him, swinging my chainsword in a sweeping arc that cleaved through its shoulder. The beast shrieked—an inhuman cry that echoed through the tunnels and made the very ground vibrate. It fought with wild ferocity, lashing out with claws and jaws, its movements erratic and rapid, as though trying to exist in multiple shapes at once.

But we were faster.

Our blades danced in tandem—Joseph slicing through its limbs while I drove my chainsword deep into its chest. Black ichor sprayed across the chamber walls, sizzling as it hit the rusted metal. It howled, gurgled, then collapsed into the nest it had made.

The eggs twitched.

Without a word, Joseph turned and slashed the nearest one, spilling its contents into the water. I joined him, tearing through the remaining clusters. Whatever horrors were waiting to be born, we ensured they’d never see the surface.

The last of them sizzled under my boot as I stepped forward, breathing hard.

It was done.

The Hive had lost another piece. But something told me this was only a scout—an experiment. A seed.

And the forest had yet to grow.

I looked at Joseph. His face was grim but resolute.

“We need to burn the body,” he said.

I nodded. “We’re not taking any chances.”

The trek back through the tunnels was silent, save for the hum of our boots and the distant groan of a dying city. We carried Serenity with care, wrapped in Joseph’s cloak, her breath faint but steady. The charred corpse of the shapeshifter trailed behind us on a floating gurney—its blackened, twisted form still leaking a foul-smelling fluid. Even in death, the thing reeked of unnatural life.

As we emerged back into the open light of the surface, the sky over Cybrawl was a deep crimson. Fires still burned in the far ruins, but the worst of the chaos had passed. Drones buzzed overhead, scanning for pockets of resistance and more of the Hive’s grotesque offspring.

Deathskull greeted us at the edge of the battlefield, his golden skeletal mask catching the waning sunlight. His crimson cloak fluttered in the toxic breeze as he turned to face me.

“Report,” he said, voice modulated and cold.

“We found the nest,” I replied. “Shapeshifter’s dead. Burnt to hell and back. But there might be more hiding. Have your droids sweep the underlevels. Every tunnel, every vent, every shadow. Leave nothing unchecked.”

Deathskull nodded once. “Orders will be issued. Droid L-84 is already scanning thermal anomalies. Any trace of Hive bio-signature will be neutralized.”

“Good.” I glanced over my shoulder at Serenity, her body limp but not lifeless—yet. “We’re taking her to safety. She needs help. Fast.”

Droids met us at the pyramid—what had once been a processing hall now converted into a sterile vault of medical bays and energy barriers. Inside, immortals floated gently in containment pods, their glowing bodies humming with raw life force. Valrra rushed forward, leading us to a platform flanked by glowing columns.

“She’s fading,” Valrra said urgently. “But there’s a chance. I can attempt a transfer—let the immortal share its regenerative energy with her.”

“Then do it,” I said.

We laid Serenity on the padded slab. Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow. Valrra’s hands moved quickly, tapping sequences into the console as she calibrated the immortal’s containment field. The floating figure within the pod pulsed with white-blue light—its form like liquid glass, flickering with ancient memories and power beyond comprehension.

Emily stood beside me, holding Serenity’s hand. Her eyes were wide, lips pressed into a trembling line.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just hold on…”

The immortal’s light poured into Serenity’s body, threads of energy weaving through her wounds. For a moment, it looked as if it was working—her skin began to glow faintly, her chest rose just a little higher. Emily leaned forward, hoping to break through the tears on her cheeks.

But then—flatline.

The platform beeped. The light dimmed. The immortal's glow retracted, flickering weakly before fading altogether.

Serenity’s eyes fluttered once. She exhaled. And then—stillness.

Valrra stepped back, her voice a hollow whisper. “She’s gone.”

Emily collapsed to her knees beside the table, cradling Serenity’s lifeless hand. Her armor shimmered faintly, then dimmed to black, matching her mourning. A shudder ran through her body as she pressed her forehead against Serenity’s.

“No…” she said. “Not like this…”

I knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You did everything you could.”

“I should’ve gone with her. I should’ve protected her. She was alone... because of me.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Because of them. The Hive. Subi. They’re to blame. And we will make sure they pay.”

She looked up at me, her green eyes now bloodshot and trembling. “I can’t lose anyone else, William. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” I said. “Not if we finish what we started.”

Behind us, Joseph stood silently, fists clenched. Even Deathskull turned away, offering a rare, respectful silence. Valrra lowered her head and covered Serenity’s body with a synthetic burial shroud, the same kind used for honored warriors.

“She died a warrior,” Valrra said. “And we will remember her as one.”

Emily stood slowly, wiping the tears from her eyes, her sorrow hardening into resolve.

I nodded. “we burn the Hive to the ground Starting now.”

Back within the cold-lit underchambers of the pyramid, we followed Valrra into the sterile examination lab. The room had been converted into a makeshift autopsy bay, sterile tables and glowing consoles casting long shadows across the brushed-metal walls. The air smelled faintly of ozone and antiseptic, with a much darker scent lingering beneath: charred flesh and something briny—like rotting meat left in seawater.

The corpse lay on the table, strapped down with energy clamps. Though blackened from the fire that killed it, enough tissue remained to study. Its skin was a waxy, scaled hybrid of man and beast—like leather stretched over cartilage. Where its mouth should have been were rows of jagged, inward-curved teeth—shark teeth, growing in overlapping layers, even inside its throat. Patches of human skin were still fused across its neck and arms like stitched-on masks. Its limbs twitched now and then, as if its nerves refused to die with it.

Emily stood beside me, unusually quiet, but her expression was unreadable—half grief, half morbid curiosity. She didn’t flinch, didn’t speak. Her gaze stayed locked on the creature’s distorted face as if looking for something. Recognition, maybe. Maybe even guilt. I couldn’t tell.

Valrra pulled on her gloves and activated the holo-surgical tools. The scalpel hissed as it touched the creature’s chest, parting the flesh with clean precision. Muscle fiber peeled back to reveal layers of unfamiliar organ structure—hybrid lungs lined with gill-like sacs, a heart with two separate chambers beating in arrhythmic patterns, and bone that wasn’t bone at all but something fibrous, like coral hardened with carbon.

“We’re not looking at a simple shapeshifter,” Valrra muttered as she scanned the internal systems. “This thing didn’t just wear its disguise. It became the person.”

“How so?” I asked, stepping closer.

Valrra tapped the monitor. “Here. These cells—when exposed to new organic tissue—rewrite themselves to mirror the DNA sequence of the target. It doesn’t just mimic their form. It copies their cellular structure, down to neural tissue.”

I squinted at the flickering holographic projection of the DNA strands, watching them bend and twist like tendrils. “So it absorbs someone, takes their DNA… and wears it like a second skin?”

“No,” she said. “It replaces them. Down to the molecular level. The real person may never exist again after contact. These things are perfect infiltrators.”

“Like something out of John Carpenter’s The Thing,” I said aloud. “Only worse.”

Joseph leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “This explains how Subi stayed hidden. And why Serenity couldn’t identify her shooter until it was too late.”

Emily finally spoke, her voice low. “They could be anywhere. Anyone. Even one of us.”

The silence that followed was long and heavy.

Valrra continued her work, drawing tissue samples and isolating the neural cortex. “It’s hard to tell where the human ends and the monster begins. Whatever this species is, it’s highly adaptive. It doesn’t just impersonate—it evolves.”

I stared at the half-melted face of the beast, trying to imagine the moment it became someone else. What was left of the original person? A whisper? A memory? Or were they simply devoured and erased?

“This is a new class of Hive infiltrator,” Valrra confirmed. “Possibly a scout—one of many. If there are more like it, and we don’t find them first...”

“They’ll gut the galaxy from the inside out,” I finished.

Emily exhaled sharply and finally turned away. Her face was pale, her fists clenched. “Serenity died because we didn’t see it coming. We can’t let that happen again.”

“We won’t,” I told her. “Not while I’m still breathing.”

Joseph stepped forward, eyeing the readings. “Can we trace its origin? Figure out where it came from?”

Valrra nodded. “If we analyze its cortical memory structure, we may be able to extract fragments. Not a full consciousness—but a direction. A place. A moment. It’ll take time.”

“Start immediately,” I ordered. “We’ll secure the lab and run identity scans on everyone who comes near this body.”

“And what about Subi?” Joseph asked.

“We will hunt him down,” I said. “We find him. We find the rest. And then we burn this rot out of the galaxy.”

Emily looked back at the table, her jaw tight. “I want to be the one to light the match.”

Valrra glanced at me with a grim look of understanding. “We’ll need to upgrade our systems. Bio-detection, neural resonance scans—anything that can expose the imposters. Right now, we’re flying blind.”

“Then let’s give ourselves eyes,” I said.

And somewhere out there, Subi was watching. Waiting.

The pyramid’s laboratory was silent, save for the hum of arcane machinery and the slow drip of coolant from ruptured tubing. Dim, sickly green lights cast elongated shadows over the metal walls, giving the room the feel of a tomb more than a place of science. The creature’s severed head lay on a steel slab—bloated, scorched, yet disturbingly lifelike. It hadn’t decayed the way it should have. Not like something mortal. The flesh still twitched, and every so often a faint pulse fluttered beneath the skin, like something was trying to crawl free from inside.

The stench was unbearable—charred tissue, bile, the sharp tang of ozone from the equipment. A mockery of life lingered in that grotesque lump of flesh, and we were about to bring it back, if only for a moment. Curiosity had become a weapon, and we were willing to wield it.

Emily watched with hollow eyes as Valrra and I inserted electrodes into the creature’s exposed brain stem. The skin split like overripe fruit, revealing layers of alien tissue—flesh that glistened with an oily sheen, crawling with half-dead nerve endings still hungry for instruction. I could feel the creature's presence, even in death. Like its mind hovered just out of reach, waiting for us to knock.

When the last wire was in place, I nodded. Emily stepped forward, hesitating only a moment before pulling the switch.

A low, mechanical growl filled the room. The containment glass vibrated as arcs of electricity coursed into the head. Its eye fluttered open—milky, but aware. The mouth convulsed, stretching unnaturally wide, leaking dark fluid. Muscles jerked as ancient instincts tried to reanimate what was no longer whole.

The eye locked onto mine.

Not with intelligence.

But with hatred.

An instinctual, endless hatred.

Valrra’s monitors spiked. The neural activity surged, flashing incomprehensible waveforms across the screen. Not language. Not thought. Just raw signal—chaos distilled.

Then, the voice came.

Not spoken.

Emanated.

A low rasp, more vibration than sound, filled the chamber like a plague carried on air.

From the depths of its ruined throat came a whisper laced with the cold certainty of death: a hunger older than light, older than time.

“…many faces… one voice…”

The words weren’t language. They were instinct sculpted into syllables. No emotion. No fear. Only doctrine.

I stepped forward and studied it. The thing was not reacting like a prisoner. It wasn't scared. It was curious. Watching us with predatory stillness.

Emily gripped the shock baton and pressed it against the base of its jaw. A burst of current lit the chamber. The flesh sizzled. The skin blistered. But the creature only twitched and smiled.

Its grin was too wide, too wrong. As if it were wearing a face it didn’t earn.

Blood dripped to the floor, black and viscous.

Its mouth opened again.

“…no stars… no order… only consumption…”

That was all it needed to say.

I reached for the pliers, and without hesitation, ripped one of its serrated shark-like teeth from the jaw. A hissing noise escaped as fresh bone pushed forward from the socket. Its body was built for redundancy—for endless regeneration. It couldn’t be reasoned with. It could only adapt.

And yet, even in pain, it smiled.

Its mind was still there. Somewhere beneath the static and rage. We just had to push harder.

Another tooth came free. Blood sprayed the glass.

And that’s when it broke.

The hive, or what was left of it in that decapitated husk, responded. Not with screams, but with doctrine.

It spoke of a singular will. Not conquest. Not survival.

But erasure.

The creature's consciousness, now exposed like a raw nerve, revealed the deeper truth: the Hive didn’t want land or dominion. It wanted extinction. Of everything. Not as punishment. Not as war.

“…death is the order of the universe… not life. Not chaos. Not peace. Death is the true constant. We are its harbingers. The old balance must be burned away. All forms… absorbed. All resistance… silenced.”

But as cleansing.

Life was a disease.

They were the cure.

Valrra's screen lit up violently, flashing red as the cortical activity overloaded. The creature’s mouth began to convulse, stretching wider than the jaw should allow. Blood, bile, and static poured from its throat.

I shouted to shut it down, but Emily was already at the switch. The power cut. The creature spasmed once more, its eye rolling back. And then it went still.

This time, truly dead.

No breath. No pulse. No signal.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Even the machines seemed reluctant to resume their hum.

Emily stood motionless beside the switch, her expression unreadable.

Valrra stepped away from the console, pale. “Its cells… even in death… they remember everything they consume.”

We stood over the head, gazing into the open jaw of madness.

They weren't just enemies.

They were extinction made flesh.

And now we know the truth.

The Hive would never stop.

It wouldn’t negotiate.

It wouldn’t evolve.

It would only spread.

And the only way to survive… was to burn it all.

The lab had fallen quiet again, the acrid scent of burned alien flesh still clinging to the recycled air. We stood in a solemn circle around the now-lifeless shark creature’s head—still grotesquely twisted in its final, hateful grin. The lights above flickered, almost in acknowledgment of the words we had just heard. Death. Consumption. Cleansing.

But something didn’t sit right. There was a pattern here—more than just senseless chaos. A deeper design, so deeply buried in shadows even these monsters chose deception over direct confrontation. That’s when the answer came to me, like a whisper sliding into my thoughts.

“They’re hiding something,” I muttered aloud, eyes fixed on the gory remains.

“They’re covert because they’re afraid.”

Deathskull turned toward me, metal plates creaking. “Afraid? Of what?”

“The Immortals,” I replied without hesitation. “They don’t want anyone gaining control of the Immortals. If someone learns how to wield their power—truly harness it—then the Hive loses its grip on domination. They know the Immortals can tip the scales. That’s why they’re targeting people like us.”

Valrra narrowed her eyes, processing the idea. “You believe the Hive wants to absorb the Immortals into themselves… to either consume their power or prevent anyone else from using it.”

I nodded. “Exactly. They don’t just want to wipe out life—they want to ensure nothing can challenge their supremacy. That’s why they’re taking this infiltration approach. They know if even a handful of beings like us awaken fully to the Immortal bond... we could become unstoppable.”

Deathskull and Valrra exchanged a tense glance. The droid’s voice modulated to a lower frequency. “You may be closer to the truth than we realized.”

Valrra stepped forward, folding her arms. Her voice was quiet, but heavy with caution. “The Immortals don’t just give power. They... merge. Bonding with a host doesn’t just amplify physical strength or resilience. It changes the host, rewires them. The longer the connection lasts, the deeper it fuses. Eventually, the host and the Immortal become indistinguishable. One will. One being.”

I let out a dry laugh, trying to shrug off the implications. “You’re saying we’re gods now? Please. Emily and I aren’t invincible. I still bleed. I still feel fear. Whatever strength I’ve gained—it’s not enough to stop a galaxy-eating parasite.”

Emily stood quietly at my side, her expression unreadable. She hadn’t said a word since the interrogation ended, but I could sense something building inside her. A storm beneath the surface.

Valrra looked at me with serious eyes, almost maternal in their concern. “You’ve seen what she can do. During the battle with the Red Dragon Empire—her sword didn’t just glow, it transformed. Her aura was seething with energy... and it wasn’t just adrenaline. It was spiritual. Mystical.”

Emily flinched slightly at the mention, as if reminded of something she couldn’t fully understand.

I shook my head, frustrated. “But why? Why would Subi—of all people—allow us to gain access to that kind of power? Why implant us with Immortals if they’re this dangerous to the Hive?”

Valrra’s face was drawn, her ears twitching ever so slightly in thought. “Maybe he didn’t know what he was playing with. Or maybe he did... and he was using you.”

The idea churned in my stomach like acid. Subi—always two steps ahead, always playing some long game. Had we been pawns from the start?

I stepped away from the table, pacing. “There’s another layer to this. A spiritual one. Maybe these Shark People aren’t just aliens. Maybe they’re... something else. Something older. A corruption, not just of biology—but of soul.”

“Demons?” Emily finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

The word lingered in the air like ash.

“Maybe,” I said, voice grim. “It would explain hunger. The hatred. The total rejection of life.”

Deathskull crossed his arms, his mechanical jaw clicking. “No. That theory doesn’t hold. Demons—true demons—cannot exist permanently in the physical realm. Their matter collapses once the host is destroyed. These Shark People... they’re biological. Fully formed. They bleed. They reproduce. They rot.”

“Yet they don’t act like biological entities,” I countered. “They mimic. They infect. They even whisper like devils in the dark. It’s like they’re wearing flesh as a mask.”

Emily stepped closer to the containment slab, staring down at the decapitated head. The room's light reflected in her eyes like twin green stars. “Maybe it’s both. Maybe they started biological. And something else found them. Something darker. Something that made them... evolve.”

A silence followed.

The thought was terrifying—worse than any singular enemy. Not a species. Not an empire. But a perversion. A blending of science and soul-corruption. A fusion of biology and void-born hatred.

I turned to Deathskull and Valrra. “If they’re looking for the Immortals... then we have to move fast. We need to find out where Subi went. And more importantly—what he left behind.”

Valrra nodded grimly. “We’ll start running a sweep of the Immortal frequencies. If he implanted others, we’ll find them.”

Deathskull gestured toward the door. “Then I’ll send a fleet to probe the outskirts of Cybrawl and beyond. If there are more of these... nests... we burn them to ash.”

I looked back at the mangled corpse, now motionless, but still exuding an unsettling aura. Whatever it had been in life, whatever malevolence had driven it to spread—its voice still echoed in my head.

No stars. No order. Only consumption.

This wasn’t just war.

This was extinction by design.

And unless we uncovered the truth—about the Immortals, about Subi, and about whatever deeper horror guided the Hive—then our galaxy’s end wouldn’t come with a bang.

It would come with a slow, suffocating silence.

And not even the stars would survive.

The stale air of the pyramid chamber seemed to tighten as I stood before them—Emily, Valrra, Deathskull, and the handful of droids still present—my fists clenched at my sides. The weight of Serenity’s death still pressed on our chests like a tombstone, but I wasn’t about to let grief turn into inaction.

“We need to start watching the Vikingnar Empire,” I said coldly, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “There’s no guarantee the Shark People haven’t already embedded themselves deeper into our systems—posing as advisors, captains, even generals. If this war turns domestic, it’ll be over before we even raise a sword.”

Valrra nodded slowly, her feline features tight with thought. “If they can mimic DNA... they could be anyone. Your advisors. Your cooks. Your soldiers.”

“Exactly,” I replied. “We need an antidote—something that detects or neutralizes the shapeshifter cells before they take root. Otherwise, we’ll be exterminated from within.”

Deathskull’s voice echoed metallically. “That kind of bioweapon is complex. It would take time. Resources. Authorization.”

“Then we start now.”

The group exchanged glances, but I didn’t let them interrupt. The fire inside me was roaring too loudly now.

“And another thing,” I said, stepping forward into the center of the room, closer to the flickering holographic map of the galaxy. “This monarchy—this outdated tradition of a single ruler holding all the power—it’s a relic. It makes us vulnerable.”

Emily’s eyes lifted toward me, her expression already unreadable.

“Ragnar is dead,” I continued. “And no offense, but a crown on one man’s head won’t save us from this kind of war. We need structure. We need decentralization. We need something closer to a constitutional alliance—a Galactic Parliament if that’s what it takes. The people of Vikingnar deserve more than tradition. They deserve protection.”

Emily’s jaw tightened. “You’re talking about dismantling Ragnar’s legacy.”

“I’m talking about keeping his people alive!” I snapped. “You think Ragnar would want the Empire he bled for to be eaten from the inside by monsters wearing our skins? Would he want his people governed by a system too rigid to adapt?”

There was a pause. Then, Valrra stepped forward.

“You are speaking revolution.”

“I’m speaking of survival,” I growled. “These monsters—this hive—they want us divided. They want our empires to rot from the inside because we can’t adapt. A single king is a single point of failure. That’s what they’re counting on.”

Emily crossed her arms, hurt flickering behind her eyes. “You sound like you’ve already abandoned him.”

“No,” I said, softer now. “I’m honoring him. By making sure we’re not so blind in tradition that we let everything he fought for collapse.”

The silence was thick. Then Deathskull moved, his footsteps heavy as iron.

“You may be right,” he said. “Even a perfect machine has redundancy. A living civilization should be no different.”

Valrra nodded. “We could form a High Council. A governing body to ensure no one leader holds unchecked power. Each planetary system would elect a representative.”

I turned to Emily. “Please. I can’t do this alone. That’s what they want. They want us to isolate, to fight each other, to fracture. We have to be stronger than that. We have to be united... not as a hive mind like the enemy, but as one with individuality, conviction, and spirit.”

She looked at me long and hard, her green eyes intense with emotion. Then finally, slowly, she nodded.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s make something new. Something that lasts.”

Relief hit me like a cold wind.

We weren’t just fighting monsters now. We were building something in defiance of them. An alliance forged not in chains, but in conviction. One that wouldn’t just survive... but evolve.

As the group turned back to the glowing maps and plans, I looked down at the pale blue light reflecting across my gauntlet.

If we were to become a hive of our own...

Then let ours be one of fire, freedom, and soul.

The flickering lights of the pyramid’s interior bathed us in a warm, sepia hue—ancient yet eerily alive, like the place itself was holding its breath. I stood at the head of the roundtable chamber, the weight of Ragnar’s crown still in my pocket, not on my head.

“Before we move forward,” I said, voice firm but composed, “I want full consensus. Vikingnar must evolve. No more blind loyalty to bloodlines. No more thrones forged in the name of dead kings. We build a civilization worth defending—with structure, accountability, and law. From this point on, not defending our people, our system... that’s treason.”

There were nods across the table—some slow, others hesitant, but each marked by a quiet understanding. Emily’s hand rested on the edge of the table, fingers flexed like she was gripping the weight of what was lost and what must now be rebuilt. Valrra stood tall beside her, her dark hair dimmed in the lighting, but her eyes sharp with determination.

Then, Deathskull shifted, the metal of his body groaning as gears repositioned. His eyes flickered as he cleared his synthetic throat.

“If we are to secure Vikingnar against infiltration and corruption,” he began, “we must also secure it against dimensional breach.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean from the hive?”

“No,” Deathskull said. “From beyond even them.”

Everyone leaned in slightly.

“I’ve been experimenting,” he continued, his voice low, almost reverent, “with ways to stop non-corporeal intrusions—things that don’t bleed, don’t decay. Demonic forces. Entities that phase through physical barriers. I believe their presence is growing... and might be tied to the hive's true origins.”

I crossed my arms. “And your solution?”

Deathskull lifted a small metallic sphere from his satchel and placed it onto the table. The orb pulsed with a dim blue glow, like a heartbeat.

“This device is a frequency anchor. It disrupts the ethereal spectrum and stabilizes the surrounding matter, making it hostile to any entity trying to phase into our dimension. But it needs a mineral to work properly. One that can ground spiritual energy and physical space.”

“Let me guess,” I muttered. “It’s rare.”

He nodded. “Shungite. Found only on Earth.”

Emily blinked. “That old stone? People used it for water purification, not banishing hellspawn.”

“That’s what they thought,” Deathskull replied. “But its crystalline lattice has properties that reflect and absorb interdimensional frequencies. With enough of it, I can create a barrier strong enough to protect key strongholds—maybe even shield Immortal hosts from corruption.”

A silence settled over the room like a thick fog. Everyone was thinking the same thing.

Earth.

A place i left behind. A home, a memory... and now, a key to salvation.

I exhaled and walked to the map table, swiping my hand to zoom in on Earth’s solar system. The pale blue dot flickered into view like an ember in the void.

“Then we go back,” I said. “We assemble a mining team and secure as much shungite as we can. But we do it quietly. No massive fleets. No fanfare. The last thing we need is to draw attention to a vulnerable world.”

Valrra stepped forward. “And what if the hive is already there?”

“Then we hunt them,” I replied. “From the shadows.” I gave a small smirk. “Good. You’ve got that diplomatic fire now.”

Valrra turned to me, serious once more. “If Earth has even one of those nests... it’ll spread like wildfire. That planet isn’t ready.”

“Then we make it ready,” I said. “We have no choice.”

The pyramid’s metallic halls echoed with the sounds of preparation—clicking armor plates, charging cells, murmured orders. The air felt thick, heavy with the future pressing down on us.

But none of that mattered at this moment.

Emily stood in the doorway of my quarters, arms folded tightly across her chest, her jaw tense. Her dark hair shimmered faintly beneath the amber lights, but her green eyes—those fire-forged emeralds—held nothing but quiet fear.

“You’re going back to Earth,” she said flatly. Not a question. A truth she already knew, and hated.

I stood at the edge of the war table, adjusting my gear, pretending I didn’t feel her gaze digging into me like sharpened glass.

“Only to get what we need,” I replied, not looking at her. “We don’t have time for full-scale mining. If I can find even a single raw deposit of shungite, Deathskull can replicate it. It’s cleaner, faster, and draws less attention.”

“You’re still going alone,” she snapped. “You always want to play the martyr.”

I turned, slowly, and met her stare.

“This isn’t about martyrdom. Revenge. It’s about protection. We can’t afford to lose the universe to those monsters. I have to go, Emily.”

She stepped forward, her voice cracking with pain. “And what if you don’t come back? You think I can run Vikingnar while wondering if you're alive, or being torn apart by something worse than Shark People?”

I reached out and took her hand, gently folding her fingers into mine. Her skin was warm, trembling. She was angry, not because I was wrong—but because I might be right.

“You have to lead here,” I whispered. “If we both leave, we leave Vikingnar vulnerable. That’s exactly what the hive wants—chaos, collapse, fear. You’re the only one I trust to keep the structure intact. You’re stronger than you think.”

She lowered her eyes. Her voice softened, almost inaudible. “I don’t want to be strong if it means losing you.”

I pressed my forehead against hers, the silence between us louder than war drums. My voice came out low, resolute.

“I’m coming back. That’s a promise.”

Behind her, I caught sight of Deathskull lurking near the corridor, his red optic flickering.

“I hate to interrupt this... delicate matter,” he said flatly, “but we don’t have long. I’ve pinpointed a few coordinates on Earth where shungite veins might still be exposed. One in Russia, one near Lake Superior, and one buried beneath the African crust. I suggest we leave now while the cosmic tides are low.”

Emily exhaled and finally pulled away, her expression hardening like steel cooled in water.

“Then go,” she said, biting the words like venom. “But if you don’t come back—don’t expect me to forgive you in the next life.”

I nodded once, understanding the weight behind her words.

As Deathskull and I walked down the long corridor toward the ship bay, the pyramid groaned around us like it knew we were about to leave something sacred behind. I caught a glimpse of Emily one last time, watching from the observation deck as the doors closed.

The shuttle we boarded was sleek, black, and whisper-quiet. Not a war vessel—something fast and cloaked. Something for ghosts, not kings.

Deathskull sat across from me in the cramped cabin, adjusting some coils in a scanner with his spindly metal fingers.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful,” he said without looking up.

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

He glanced at me, visor dim. “Even if we find the sample, replication won’t be easy. Shungite doesn't just matter. It's a memory. It’s ancient... crystallized thought. There are things stored inside it—echoes from another age. Entities that were sealed away in the Earth long before humans crawled upright.”

“Of course there are,” I muttered. “Let me guess—opening the wrong vein might wake something worse.”

He nodded. “It might. That’s why we go quietly. That’s why we go alone.”

The ship detached from the hangar, falling like a shadow into the void. As Vikingnar faded behind us, all that remained was a distant blue planet glowing in the cold distance.

Earth.

Home of gods and monsters.

And soon, perhaps, the final battleground.

The descent through Earth’s decaying atmosphere was like sinking into a tomb. Thick clouds hung over the planet like the lid of a coffin. Below, the crust of civilization was broken—fractured highways, rusted skeletal cities, once-great monuments left to the will of time and moss.

This was no longer a homeworld.

It was a relic.

The dropship cut across the sky like a phantom blade, trailing heat and memory as we coasted over a hollow continent. What once had pulsed with human life now sat in eerie silence—an unspoken stillness that gripped everything below. Chicago, Ann Arbor, and Detroit lay scattered in ruin. Buildings leaned on each other like forgotten gravestones. Forests had consumed neighborhoods. Rivers flowed unchecked through highways, nature reclaiming everything with patient, predatory intent.

We moved lower, further southwest, into the open fields of what used to be central Illinois. Dead towns passed below in silence, half-sunken into overgrowth. No smoke. No sound. Just broken fences, twisted streetlights, rusting signs, and the ghost of order.

Money Creek.

We descended like vultures.

The dropship came to rest just beside the creek bed—once a peaceful nature spot, now choked by shadows. The trees had grown taller here, darker, their limbs curled inward like clawed hands. The earth felt dense with memory. Not just the passing of time, but something buried deeper—grief, anger, fear.

The loading ramp hissed open. A wave of stagnant air rushed in—thick, bitter, laced with metallic dust and old rot. Stepping down into the soil was like stepping into a crypt. This land remembered pain. It was woven into the roots.

The sky above was a dull yellow-gray, the clouds bloated with decay and long-forgotten storms. The wind whispered across the landscape with no birdsong to interrupt it, no insects to stir the brush—just the hush of abandonment.

I moved slowly across the gravel and weeds, letting the surroundings speak. The creek itself, once crystal and shallow, had become a channel of black sludge. Thick, tar-like mud clung to the banks, bubbling faintly as if something below still breathed. I scooped a bit of it into a vial. The fluid shimmered faintly under the sunlight—magnetic, unnatural, like blood remembering electricity.

There was a long silence. Deathskull tilted his head. “There’s nothing in Bloomington but corn on the cob.”

“I know,” I said, staring straight ahead.

Deathskull surveyed the area, his sensors pinging quietly. He looked at me. “You chose this place for a reason,” he said. “This isn’t about geology. This is about... unfinished business.”

I walked past him without answering, boots crunching through dirt and shattered pavement.

“William,” he said, following, “this is ridiculous. Everyone you once knew here is either long dead, decayed, or turned into mulch. This place isn’t going to give you closure. It’s just going to feed your ghosts.”

I stopped at the edge of the old creek bed. Trees lined the water’s edge, swaying just slightly in the breeze—if it even was a breeze.

“I don’t need closure,” I said. “I need the truth. If something happened to Earth—if the Shark People, or something worse, laid the groundwork here—I need to know. This place was my hell. And hell doesn’t burn away that easily.”

Deathskull tilted his head, scanning again.

“There are trace energy readings here,” he finally admitted. “Buried deep. Something old. Something unnatural. But it’s faint. Could be ancient tech... could be spiritual interference. Hard to tell.”

I knelt by the edge of the creek. The water, once clean and shallow, was now thick with black sediment. I scooped a bit into a small vial for analysis. Something about it was off—dense, magnetic. Alive.

“This land was cursed before I ever left it,” I muttered.

Deathskull finally sighed, mechanical and gravelly. “Fine. We’ll start the scan here. But if I find out you dragged me across lightyears to revisit your high school trauma, I’m logging it as emotional misconduct.”

I smirked slightly, despite myself. “I’ll kick your metal ass droid.”

Deathskull cracked a dry laugh as his metal feet crunched over frostbitten weeds.

“I got an oil change in Money Creek once,” he muttered, eyes scanning the perimeter with half-curious boredom.

I didn’t respond with a smile. Not this time.

“This isn’t a road trip. Be considerate,” I warned, tightening the grip on my sword as the creek murmured behind me.

The air was growing colder now, unnaturally cold for late summer in what used to be the Midwest. Mist laced the tree roots, curling up from the dark waters of the creek like ghost breath. The place didn’t feel abandoned—it felt sealed. Forgotten by time, yes, but protected. Or perhaps buried on purpose.

We continued our sweep. The water lapped at our feet as we stepped into the creek bed—shallow, slow-moving, and bone-chilling. That’s when I felt it.

A clank beneath my foot.

Not stone. Not mud. Metal.

I knelt, brushing aside a film of silt and algae. My fingers struck smooth steel—flat and wide, stretching beneath the water in rigid, man made patterns.

“Platform,” I muttered. “There’s a structure under us.”

Deathskull splashed over to my side. We moved slowly, palms grazing the submerged surfaces, piecing together what our feet couldn’t see. Then, near the shoreline, half-buried in the mud and cattails, I found it—a keypad panel coated in rust and dried moss, nearly invisible unless you were looking.

“Over here,” I called.

Deathskull approached, wiping muck from the interface. The panel blinked dimly—still powered, after all these years. Solar? Geothermal? There was no way to know.

“Want to guess the password?” he grinned, already tapping in a sequence.

The first two tries were met with angry red lights and a low mechanical buzz. On the third attempt, the light turned a faint green, and a deep mechanical hum resonated through the waterlogged ground.

The creek shifted.

With a dull groan of ancient hydraulics, a hidden hatch cracked open. The water frothed, pulled down into unseen drains as sections of the creek began to lower, revealing steel chambers and pillars that hissed and rose from beneath the surface. The moss-coated structures shimmered with a faded NASA insignia. Cryogenic pods—at least a dozen—emerged, their metal frames beaded with condensation and time.

Inside them... faces.

Human faces.

Some old, some young. Some are almost too familiar.

I stepped closer, my breath catching in my chest. I could see the frost-ringed glass of the nearest pod. Deathskull said nothing. For once, even he was quiet.

We circled the array, the fog curling around our legs as if the earth itself was whispering warnings we couldn't hear. Pod after pod. People who hadn’t aged in decades—maybe longer. Some of them bore uniforms, others civilian attire from a time long gone. Some had data tags. A few were labeled as missing persons. Some had no identification at all.

They were frozen, preserved beneath the surface.

Deathskull knelt by one of the control consoles, his fingers dancing over the corroded interface.

“This was no emergency protocol,” he muttered. “This was deliberate. A whole chamber hidden under a damn creek.”

The machine hummed louder now, as if acknowledging its long-overdue awakening. I stared at the pods again. There was a purpose to this. Not just survival. Not escape.

Preservation.

And then the data stream cracked open.

Deathskull pulled it up on his retinal HUD and patched it into mine. A security log. Last entry: August 19th, 2018.

Keywords: Solar flares, deep black project, alternate dimensional incursion, early Shark mutations observed in ocean biomes… high-risk infiltration detected within military chains of command… Operation Ice Veil enacted. All assets moved to Cryo Site Delta—Money Creek, Illinois.

I felt the cold creep into my bones—not just from the water or the air, but from the implications. Earth hadn’t just died from war or plague or collapse.

It was hunted.

They knew it. They had seen it coming. And they hid the last survivors of something—a final, desperate breath sealed under a quiet country creek.

I turned to Deathskull. His expression was unreadable behind the glow of his lenses.

“The sharks got them.” I said.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared through the fog at the unmoving bodies inside the pods.

“I think we’re standing in a graveyard,” he finally said, “for people who weren’t allowed to die.”

---

CHAPTER 4: "BENEATH THE BONES OF CYBRAWL" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"