CHAPTER 1: "RAPTURE" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

BY WILLIAM WARNER

"VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA" CHAPTER 1: "RAPTURE"

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Droid L-84 was not designed for stealth.

His frame was forged from reinforced gold-plated alloy, designed to intimidate and endure—not to sneak through tightly packed suburban neighborhoods under the scorching Arizona sun. Yet here he was, trudging through the edge of Gilbert, invisible to the naked eye but far from undetectable.

The Immortals had escaped. His fault, and he intended on fixing his mistake.

He hadn’t expected them to override the Wraith containment array so fast—hadn’t anticipated their hive-like coordination or how quickly they learned. Now they were on Earth, seeping into its fabric like rot through wood. They had crossed through Cybrawl’s tear in the dimensional shell and landed here, of all places—on the outer edge of a town filled with quiet houses, trimmed lawns, and too many Ring doorbells.

Droid L-84 activated his cloak the moment he saw the freeway signs for Gilbert. The invisibility matrix shimmered across his frame, distorting light in a near-perfect bend. But it didn’t silence his steps. Each movement of his broad mechanical feet against gravel was a muted crunch, and worse, his servo-motors gave off a faint whirring hum with every shift of weight. He moved slowly now—deliberately. One step at a time.

Even cloaked, he stuck out.

Houses here were crammed together, divided only by gravel paths, stucco walls, and the occasional dying citrus tree. Families were inside, sealed behind air-conditioned walls, drawn blinds, and smart devices listening for sound. Even the birds had taken shelter from the brutal summer blaze.

But they were outside. The Immortals.

He had tracked them to a desert wash—a dry spillway lined with thin brush and concrete drainage. He crouched by a crumbling cinder block wall, sensors dialed to full, invisible in the shade of a withered palo verde tree. They were clustered together like smoke—faint, formless, each one pulsing with a hunger that twisted the air around them.

And then, like vapor through cracks, the Immortals slithered into the nearby house.

His optics zoomed in. He locked onto the address.

My House.

He recognized the layout from municipal archives—single story, sand-colored tile roof, desert landscaping, a faded basketball hoop on the garage. It wasn’t random. The Immortals weren’t just hiding. They were drawn to something. Or someone.

He shifted to move closer—

Bark.

It was sharp and sudden, and far too close.

Droid L-84 froze.

A golden retriever stood just feet from him, nose twitching wildly, head tilted with a puzzled but excited look. Its ears perked. It had caught the scent. The Droid’s oils, even with his nanofilter running at full purge, were distinct—synthetic, acrid, out of place in a world of grass clippings and sunscreen.

The dog took a cautious step forward and sniffed again. Then it let out another bark—softer this time. Not alarm. Curiosity.

Droid L-84 considered his options. Plasma was out of the question—too loud. Sonic dampener? Risky. So instead, he did the only thing that made sense.

He picked up a stick.

With a soft whir of gears, he turned slightly and tossed it far left, down the street and into the gravel behind a neighbor’s trash bins. The dog’s ears twitched. A pause. Then, with a happy huff, it turned and bounded after the stick, tail wagging in earnest.

Droid L-84 exhaled a soundless breath and returned his attention to the house.

The Immortals had fully entered it now. He could no longer see them from his vantage point—but he could still sense them. Their energy signatures pulsed faintly, now tangled in the circuitry and shadows of the structure.

Nightfall crept over the rooftops, long shadows stretching across driveways as porch lights flicked on, one by one. It was almost time.

He had to get inside.

Before the Immortals find their next host. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall like it owed me something.

The blinds were half-closed, casting slashes of dim light across the floor. My phone was silent, face down. I hadn’t touched it for hours. The quiet was pressing in harder now—not just from the heat, or the shimmer I saw out the window, but from down the hall.

They were arguing again.

Mom’s voice was sharp and fast, switching between English and Spanish. Dad’s voice? Slower. Louder. Not because he was trying to make a point, but because he always had to be the one in control. Always had to win. Even when he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

It wasn’t new. But this time, I was the reason.

They were arguing about me.

I leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, heart still pumping from the weird shimmer I saw earlier—but also from the sick, cold pit in my stomach. I’d gone too far this time. I knew it.

I don’t even know what made me do it, really. Maybe it was just years of holding it in—watching him walk around like some golden-haired god of authority, dismissing everything I said, twisting my words, laughing when I stood up for myself. Narcissists don’t just talk over you—they erase you.

So yeah. I snapped.

I knew his allergies were serious. I knew exactly which one of those sugary soda bottles he’d drink first. I had the timing, the plan, the rage. I thought: Maybe this’ll finally shake him. Maybe he’ll finally get it. Maybe he’ll feel powerless for once.

But I didn’t even make it an hour before Mom found the wrapper from the allergen packet in the trash. Rookie mistake. Like I wanted to get caught.

Now here I was—confined to my room like a prisoner, while my parents debated whether I needed therapy, punishment, or a boot camp in the desert. Boot camp probably would’ve been the best outcome for me. But knowing my father, he always wanted to have bigger balls than me, and wouldn’t want to be weapon X. He wants me to be treated as a slave, a prisoner with no purpose.

I pressed my head back against the drywall, jaw clenched.

“You don’t listen to him, that’s the problem!” I heard Mom shout. “You always talk like he’s some damn inconvenience!”

“I’m the one paying the bills,” Dad fired back. “And if he’s going to act like a lunatic, then he’s going to get treated like one! He should be in jail!”

“You pushed him to do this Billy! He’s been trying to talk to you for months and you just keep shutting him down!”

“He tried to poison me, Maria!”

Their voices went quiet after that. Like the whole house paused to see what would happen next.

I blinked slowly, staring up at the ceiling fan. It wasn’t spinning.

The heat pressed against my skin like a wet blanket. My throat felt dry. Not from thirst—just from pressure. Like the whole day was one long held breath. I sank back onto my bed, arms behind my head, staring up at the cracked ceiling like it might cave in and take me with it.

The argument in the hallway had faded into silence—or maybe I just stopped caring. My ears buzzed with the kind of pressure that only builds when your body’s trying not to fall apart from the inside out. It wasn’t just about my crazy blond haired dad. It never was.

I’ve been disrespected since day one.

Arizona may be hot, lonely, and dry as a dead bone, but it still beats the festering dump that was Bloomington, Illinois. A Midwestern town where people smile to your face and cut you down behind your back. I grew up there. I got my first real taste of betrayal there too.

It was in high school. Kid named Taps—loud, annoying, always shoving people like he had something to prove. One day, he shoved me for the last time. I snapped. We threw fists right there on the gym floor. I held my own. Hell, I did more than that. The substitute coach broke it up before it got bloody, but I remember clearly—Taps was the one breathing heavily, trying to hide the pain. I stood up straight.

And what did Zach say?

Zach—my supposed best friend—watched the whole thing and still thought Taps won. “You lost, man,” he told me. “He didn’t look scared of you.” Like that’s what mattered. Like loyalty didn’t. Taps started it, and I finished it.

But no—I was the problem. I was always the problem at that school. Once my dad said we were moving to Arizona for his job, I started cutting people off. Zach had the nerve to get upset when I didn’t help him with some group project. I didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t there when I needed backup—so why should I show up for him? He can go and fuck himself.

I’ve never forgotten that moment. That was when I started to realize that being alone might not be a curse—it might be the only time I could breathe.

But it didn’t start in high school. No, this pattern ran deeper.

Elementary school. I was the “quiet one,” the kid teachers assumed would fold under pressure. People saw me as soft, submissive. Some kid—Brandon—called me a “pussy”, threw around insults like it was his right. I snapped back with the harshest word I knew, something I should’ve never said, but I wanted to hurt him the way people kept hurting me. And you know what? He didn’t even swing. Just looked at me and walked away. Like he didn’t have to fight me to win.

But it was never just about one race or one kind of person. Most of the ones who got physical with me? White kids. Like Max. Kid was a year behind me, and still had the guts to hit me just because he could. I kept letting it go until the day I didn’t. I grabbed him and slammed him against the brick wall behind the school. He never touched me again.

Every fight, every shove, every damn whisper in the hallway—every time someone looked at me and saw a joke instead of a person—it chipped away at whatever I thought I had left. And not a single adult gave a damn. Not a teacher, not a counselor, not even my own father.

There was one teacher—Mrs. Zuvonner. Called me “irresponsible.” Laughed at my short stories. Told other kids I was “scary” because I liked science fiction that wasn’t sugarcoated Disney garbage. Said I was obsessed with darkness.

She never stopped to ask why.

She never thought that maybe my stories—those warped, dystopian nightmares—were the only place I felt like I mattered. Where I wasn’t invisible. Where I could actually fight back. Where someone like me could burn down a broken world and build a better one from the ashes.

Sure, there were moments people liked me. Compliments, high-fives, even girls who said I was “cool” when I cracked a joke. But none of that stuck. It all felt fake. What I really wanted wasn’t love.

I wanted respect.

Hell, I wanted people to fear me.

Because if they fear you, at least they don't fuck with you.

And right now, in this house, in this bedroom, in this heat-choked silence—I could still feel something watching. Waiting. I didn't know it yet, but I wasn't the only thing in Arizona sick of being disrespected, or ignored…

And then, outside the window, I heard it again.

That clunk.

Metal on rock.

I stood and moved to the blinds, slowly pushing one slat aside. The shimmer was gone now, but something in the air still felt… off. Heavy. Charged. Like the world was trying to whisper something through static.

I didn’t know what that invisible thing was out there. I didn’t know where those shadow creatures had gone. But somehow, deep down, I felt like whatever was happening outside… and whatever was falling apart inside…

It was all connected.

And maybe—just maybe—I was at the center of it. I just wanted out. Not out of the house… out of this life. And maybe that’s why I followed the light.

I crept past their door, careful to avoid the squeaky part of the floorboard I knew too well. My dad’s voice was harsh, slicing through the air like a dull knife. My mom’s voice cracked, but firm. Still, I kept my focus forward. One hand on the wall for balance, the other steadying my breathing.

The red glow was coming from downstairs. Faint at first. Flickering, like something alive.

By the time I reached the dining room, the whole world seemed to slow down.

That’s when I saw it.

Hovering in the center of the room, just above the floor, was a shapeless black cloud—no limbs, no face—just thick, swirling vapor threaded with veins of glowing red. It pulsed like a heartbeat. A low hum crawled into my bones, even though there was no sound.

I should’ve run. But something… called to me.

Not with words. It was more like a thought appearing in my head, not mine but not foreign either.

“Come.”

I didn’t ask questions. I just moved.

The thing floated through the sliding glass door like it wasn’t even there. I hesitated for half a second, then unlocked it and stepped outside. The air was still hot even though it was late, but it felt colder in that creature’s presence.

It moved toward the side gate. I followed, heart pounding louder than my footsteps. It passed through the wooden planks like fog, and I jogged to catch up, unlatched the gate, and pushed it open with a creak.

Then it stopped.

“Look up.”

I did.

Three blue circles hovered in the sky. No sound. No motion. Just pure, cold light.

They weren’t stars. They weren’t planes. They looked like searchlights without beams, just perfectly circular discs, watching. Judging. And as I moved a few steps to the side, the circles moved with me. Always above. Always locked on.

I looked at the creature. It hovered silently beside me.

“Relax,” it said inside my head. “That is where we are going.”

I looked back up—and something had changed. The lights were rotating, drawing inward, forming a ring. Through the center of it… stars I had never seen. Galaxies twisted like spirals of paint. A wormhole. A gate. A portal.

I turned to the being. It pulsed softly.

I nodded.

Without a sound, the vaporous creature surged forward—and passed into me.

It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t cold or hot. It was like breathing in a second soul. I gasped, stumbled—then froze.

“No!” came a sharp, metallic voice.

A shimmer in the air. A burst of static.

Then he appeared. The man I hadn’t seen but had sensed: Droid L-84. His invisibility cloak dropped like a sheet of glass falling away.

He stood there—golden, clunky, out of place in the Arizona dirt—holding a reinforced sack crammed with canisters. Each one faintly glowed red.

He was too late.

His eyes locked on mine. “The last one is inside you! Don’t let it take control!”

He moved fast for something so heavy, crossing the yard in long, mechanical strides.

But then—

FWOOM.

A beam of light came down from the portal above, so strong it painted the night white-blue.

The pull was instant.

My feet lifted from the ground. I felt myself being torn upward, weightless and hollow. Droid L-84 shouted something, but the wind swallowed it. Then he was pulled up too, arms flailing, still clutching the sack.

Up we went—into the blue, into the stars, into something else.

And then…

We drifted.

It wasn’t like falling or flying. It was like being unzipped from reality.

Stardust brushed my skin like whispers. Shapes twisted in the void—clouds of red and black, twisting into monstrous, demonic forms. Eyes opened and blinked in the dark. I couldn’t tell if they were real or hallucinations.

I floated through it all, numb. Lost.

But it didn’t last.

Ahead was light. Not blue. Not red. Just… new.

We pierced the edge of a new atmosphere, and gravity punched me in the gut. We were falling—fast.

Droid L-84 twisted in the air beside me. “Grab onto me! NOW!”

I reached out, barely caught his arm—and everything went black.

I didn’t feel the impact.

I just know we hit the surface of a planet I’ve never seen, under a sky I didn’t recognize.

It was night.

And we are officially not alone in the universe anymore.

The sun never let up—not even for a second. It just sat up there like a heat lamp cranked to the max, cooking everything it touched. The droid and I were out cold most of the morning, half-buried between jagged boulders that looked like someone spray-painted them in black and white checkerboard patterns. Weirdest damn rocks I’ve ever seen.

Eventually, I stirred. My eyelids felt like sandpaper. My mouth was dry as hell. But the view? Unreal.

This place—whatever planet it was—looked like Arizona’s prettier, freakier cousin. The terrain was desert, but it was teeming with life. Fat, stubby palm trees stuck out of the ground like alien asparagus. Some were short and packed together, others towered up like nature’s skyscrapers. Between them were weird red cacti that shimmered like they were breathing, and flowers that looked like inflated water balloons attached to vines. Pockets of orange grass moved like it was alive, and the sand… man, it wasn’t even sand. It was white—pure, clean, like bath salts straight out of a fancy spa.

But none of that cushioned our fall.

We didn’t land on the powdery stuff.

We hit a boulder field, which was pretty in its own right.

I was lucky to be alive—barely. My legs were intact, but the second I tried to stand, crack—a sharp pain fired through my chest.

“Oh shit,” I muttered and slumped my ass back down onto one of the rocks. Strangely enough, it was cool to the touch. A nice contrast to the heat everywhere else. I leaned back, wincing, holding my side.

A few feet away, the droid groaned to life. Sparks fizzled from his hip joint, and his visor flickered like a dying flashlight.

“I wouldn’t get up too fast if I were you,” he said, his voice still metallic, but softer this time. “You could have internal bleeding. Or brain damage.”

I let out a half-laugh, half-grimace. “If I told people back home what I saw, they’d totally say I have brain damage.”

L-84’s visor blinked again. “Don’t worry. I’m sure someone is here to help us. We’ll find a way to get you home.”

I clenched my jaw and looked down. “No.”

He paused. “What do you mean, no?”

I turned toward him and shrugged, though the movement made me wince again. “I have no home to return to.”

There was silence. Not even the wind dared to interrupt.

L-84 slowly adjusted himself upright. His left leg was busted, dangling like a half-disconnected pipe, so he detached it, reversed the joint, and used it as a makeshift crutch.

“What are you doing?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

He glanced back. “Getting help.”

I watched as he hobbled away, uneven but determined. For a machine, he had more willpower than most humans I knew.

“Wait!” I shouted after him. “What’s your name?”

He stopped, turned just slightly. “My name is L-84. Droid L-84. And you?”

“William Warner,” I replied.

We didn’t say goodbye or shake hands. He just nodded once and limped off over the nearest hill, vanishing behind a thicket of the stubby palm trees.

I stayed behind, breathing carefully, looking up at the swirling sky. My regular life? That was over. And to be honest… good riddance.

Meanwhile...

Not far from where I sat, over the ridge of a sandy slope painted with patches of orange grass, something was moving.

A chariot—sleek and metallic but clearly handmade—glided across the uneven terrain, its wheels kicking up white dust. Pulling it was something out of prehistory: a triceratops, massive and muscular, with horns that shimmered faintly under the alien sun. Its scales weren’t dull brown, though—they had a greenish shimmer, like beetle shells.

At the reins was a woman.

Skin like porcelain kissed by the sun. Eyes the color of dark emeralds, scanning the horizon through binoculars. Black hair tied back into a high braid that ran down her back like a warrior’s banner. Ears long and pointed—definitely not human. She wore dark pink leather armor that hugged her athletic frame, with etched silver accents that caught the light just right.

Her name was Emily.

She spotted movement below. Through the scope of her binoculars, she zeroed in on a limping figure—mechanical, sparking, and clearly in distress.

The droid was almost out of energy.

He fell, his body sparking slightly as he hit the ground.

The triceratops slowed, then snorted and stepped forward. It lowered its head and gently licked the droid’s metallic faceplate like a curious dog.

Emily leapt off the chariot in one smooth motion, boots crunching the white dust as she ran over. She crouched beside L-84, scanning him for damage.

The droid’s eyes flickered open for just a second.

“Boy… hurt…” he rasped. “Needs help... William Warner.”

Then his systems dimmed completely, and he slumped into silence.

Emily’s expression hardened, serious but calm.

She turned toward the horizon, toward the distant rocks—toward me.

Without a word, she stood, whistled once, and the triceratops turned its bulk in that direction.

Help was coming.

The sun wasn’t giving me a break. My head throbbed, my ribs felt like broken piano keys, and my vision blurred with each blink. The heat pressed down like a weighted blanket straight from hell.

And then I saw her.

A figure cutting through the haze, high atop a chariot drawn by a triceratops. I had to be hallucinating. No way someone that beautiful was real—not out here.

The chariot came to a stop, its wheels grinding softly over the dusty earth. She stepped down—tall, graceful, deliberate in her movement. Her long black braid bounced slightly with each step, her emerald eyes scanning me carefully.

Emily.

She crouched beside me. Her skin had a glow to it, like moonlight on water, and her fingers were cool and steady as she touched my forehead.

“You’re overheated,” she said softly. “Don’t talk. Try to breathe slowly.”

I couldn’t say anything if I tried. My throat was dusty, my mouth was barely moving. But I still got to my feet, teeth gritted against the pain, pride kicking in just enough to keep me upright.

Emily slipped her arm around my back, holding me up as we walked toward the chariot. She moved with strength and ease, like she’d done this a thousand times.

“Relax,” she said. “The ride’s long, but you’ll make it. Just get comfortable.”

I sat down, or rather collapsed into the chariot’s seat. It was lined with cushions stitched from some strange blue leather that shimmered faintly in the light. The moment I leaned back, a breeze passed over us, cool and fragrant like mint and citrus mixed together.

And even through the pain, even through the heatstroke and cracked ribs, I noticed her again.

Her sharp jawline. Her eyes—like the forest after rain. Her armor, sleek but practical, silver trims catching bits of sunlight. I couldn’t believe where I was. Couldn’t believe who I was with.

Then the world tilted.

And I passed out.

When I opened my eyes again, it was like waking up inside a dream.

The chariot had made it to a town—or maybe a village—but it looked nothing like anything I’d ever seen before.

The buildings curved and shimmered like they were grown rather than built, shaped out of living stone, smooth wood, and metal that looked like chrome moss. Solar panels lined rooftops but were disguised as golden leaves. Vines and flowers wrapped around walls and bridges in a way that seemed intentional, like they were part of the architecture.

It was solarpunk, no doubt about it. Clean, green, futuristic—but earthy, alive. This place thrived with balance.

And people were everywhere.

Elven folk, tall and elegant like Emily. Most of them seemed to glow under the alien sun. Some wore robes, others had work gear, utility belts, tools strapped to their sides. There were also people with vibrant red skin, all appeared to have black hair, and wore black garments. There were a few humans too—tanned, sun-kissed, and surprisingly casual given the setting. No one looked panicked or militarized. Just… living.

We got a few stares. Some curious glances. A few hellos in languages I didn’t understand, and a couple in plain English. I tried to wave back, but all I managed was a nod.

Then another Elven woman approached us. She also had braided black hair, scarlet lips, and a long blue tunic. Her blue eyes scanned me from head to toe. “Good not a blond in sight,” I thought to myself. Since I don’t want to be reminded of my father. That prick… Anyway this other Elven woman appeared to be checking me out. Looking for signs of injury.

“What’s going on?” she asked, voice calm but direct.

Emily adjusted her hold on me and said, “He’s injured. Internal trauma. Needs medical attention. The droid too—he’s low on power and took damage in the fall.”

The Elf looked to the droid being dragged by the triceratops, barely functioning, sparks still gently flickering.

She turned and called out to a group of Elven men nearby. “Take the droid to the Mechanists’ Lodge. Use caution—don’t jolt the processor.”

Four of them stepped in without hesitation, lifting L-84’s frame carefully onto a floating platform, which hovered about two feet off the ground and hummed faintly like a giant tuning fork.

Emily and the other Elf then turned their attention to me.

“Let’s not keep the doctor waiting,” the Elf said.

I was too weak to protest.

Before I knew it, they had me laid out gently on a soft gurney made of interwoven crystal strands and vines. It felt… oddly warm and supportive. Almost like memory foam, but better.

They wheeled me up toward a large dome-shaped building near the center of town. Its exterior shimmered like a pearl in the sun, surrounded by wind turbines that barely made a sound. Somewhere inside, I knew—hope or not—I was about to get answers.

Or at least some pain meds.

The first thing I felt was warmth—soft sunlight bleeding through the window beside me. My head throbbed like I’d been hit by a truck, and my limbs were sore, but I wasn’t dead. I cracked my eyes open, the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room coming into focus. My body was wrapped in crisp sheets, and the faint beeping of monitors pulsed steadily beside me.

To my right, I saw two figures sitting quietly in chairs.

“He’s awake,” said a familiar voice.

It was Emily—dark-haired, green-eyed, and looking like an angel pulled out of the flames of battle. Seated beside her was the other Elven woman I remembered from before—similarly dark-haired, with striking blue eyes that glowed like glacier light. Both women looked relieved.

The blue-eyed one leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

I coughed, my throat dry and ragged. “I feel like garbage,” I croaked. “But I guess I’m lucky to be alive.” I paused, glancing between the two. “I didn’t catch your names.”

Emily smiled. “I’m Emily Eagle, and this is Serenity. We found you out in the Dunes. You were dying—your Droid told us everything. Including your name.”

I looked toward the foot of the bed, but L-84 was nowhere in sight.

“I’m William,” I said. “From Earth.”

Serenity perked up. “Do you miss it?”

I shook my head immediately. “No.”

She blinked, curious. “Do you ever want to go back?”

My jaw tensed. “Only to get revenge.”

Silence filled the room for a moment. The kind that hums with unspoken pain.

Then Serenity giggled. “I heard Earth was really far... and that the people are ignorant and smelly. Is that true?”

Her bluntness caught me off guard, and I laughed—genuinely, for the first time in what felt like years. “No, Emily, she’s got a point. Earth’s full of ignorant, rude, and yeah... smelly people.”

Emily rolled her eyes, but I caught the flicker of a smile tugging at her lips.

For a few moments, it was just the three of us—laughing, sharing small pieces of our pasts. It felt...normal. Almost peaceful.

But the peace didn’t last.

The door hissed open, and in walked a tall, lanky man with copper-toned skin, blue irises, and glowing data lines that ran beneath his skin like living circuits.

“I’m Doctor Subi,” he said, stepping toward the bed. “And William... your condition is worse than we thought.”

He pulled up a glowing screen and pointed to scans—images of shredded organs, failing systems, dark pools of internal bleeding. I didn’t understand half of it, but I got the gist.

“You won’t survive like this,” he said gravely. “Even with magic and tech combined, your body is beyond repair. There’s only one option.”

I swallowed. “What is it?”

“We transfer your consciousness into a new vessel. One that’s compatible and ready.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So... like a brain transplant?”

“Not quite,” he said. “It’s neural mapping, memory integration, and soul binding. It’s been done before. You won’t lose yourself—but your old body will die.”

I hesitated. That was a lot to absorb.

Emily stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. “It’s safe, William. A hundred percent survival rate. We wouldn’t be asking if there was another way.”

Serenity added softly, “Please... we don’t want to lose you. You were chosen.”

Chosen? That word echoed in my mind.

I didn’t admit it aloud, but I wanted to live. Not just to breathe again—but to fight. To pay back the world that had spit me out and laughed while I bled. But ultimately, the two Elven beauties with their adorable eyes made me make up my mind.

Still, I had to see it for myself.

“Can I... at least see the body first?” I asked.

Doctor Subi nodded. “Of course. Let’s take a look.”

Emily wheeled me through a long corridor. The walls were smooth stone and glass, interwoven with glowing moss and sunlight streaming through solar-paneled arches. Outside the windows, I saw the solar punk village again—advanced yet grounded, lush gardens and elegant buildings powered by nature and design.

Eventually, we entered a sleek medical chamber. Chrome and stone, tech and alchemy. At the center was a tall canister filled with translucent fluid. Inside it floated the body.

My new body.

It was tall—maybe six feet—muscular and covered in short, groomed grayish-blue fur. Humanoid in shape, but bestial in essence. Its head... It was lupine. A perfect fusion of man and beast. A wicked scar cut across the right side of its face.

“I’m looking at a furry,” I mumbled.

Serenity snorted. “No, silly Willy. That’s a Wulver.”

That name struck a chord. “Celtic folklore, right? But... what’s it doing here?”

Before Serenity could answer, Emily interjected, her voice serious. “That’s not important right now. What matters is whether you’ll accept it.”

I studied the Wulver’s body. There was power in it—feral, ancient, and maybe even sacred. I recognized something in it. A part of me that had always been there, buried deep under pain, humiliation, and anger.

I turned to Doctor Subi. He nodded. “This body, as well as almost all bodies in the galaxy, are Genetically engineered but are capable of reproduction, growth, and more importantly—this one is yours.”

I exhaled. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

I was placed gently into a reclining pod. Doctor Subi attached neurological nodes to my temples and chest, his hands steady. The glass canopy closed over me with a soft hiss, dimming the lights.

Through the glass, I saw them one last time—Emily, Serenity, and the Doctor.

I winked.

Then the world turned black.

At first, I thought I was dead.

Then came the screams.

I found myself in a dreamscape twisted beyond sanity—a living hell. Red skies bled into oceans of smoke. Charred mountains split open, leaking molten ash. And in the

distance, I saw them.

The Shark Monsters.

Massive, biological beasts shaped like nightmares. Their eyes—pure black—seemed to see everything. Some walked like dinosaurs with bone-plate armor, claws, and mouths full of teeth like saw blades. Others had two sets of arms—one monstrous, the other eerily human. Their bodies fused flesh, cartilage, and alien bioluminescence.

One flew overhead—a Megalodon the size of a dropship, its fins like wings of steel. Another crawled across the scorched ground, shaped like a thresher shark with digging claws and eyes that never blinked. There was a hammerhead with humanoid legs, a gaping jaw, and fingers that twitched like they wanted to peel skin.

And then the worst one: A saw-tooth horror with rotating teeth like a pizza cutter and a wheezing growl that vibrated the air itself.

They weren’t just monsters. They were designed—perfect tools of destruction. Demonic. Alien. Evil.

They saw me.

I panicked, heart thundering, but then—

A voice.

A black-and-red mist formed beside me, swirling until it shaped itself into a shadowy Immortal.

“William,” it said. “This is only a dream. Follow me to our new home.”

It offered me a hand, and I took it.

White light consumed everything.

I awoke to a cold rush of fluid draining from the pod. My eyes shot open.

Different eyes.

I breathed in—and the air was thick with life. My senses were sharper than ever. I could feel the heartbeat of the room.

The pod door opened, steam rising around me.

I stepped out. My balance took a second to adjust to new humanoid legs I wasn’t used to. But it all came naturally. I looked down and saw my reflection on the polished steel floor.

A scarred wolf stared back.

I was no longer a boy.

I was something else.

Stronger. Wilder man.

A Wulver.

Emily approached, her green eyes wide with awe. “Welcome back, William.”

I grinned. My new teeth were sharp.

I stood in front of the mirror in the locker room, flexing my newly clawed fingers, getting used to the weight of my new body. A locker beside me hissed open, revealing a fresh set of clothes—black leather, sleek, and clearly custom-made.

The jumpsuit fit like a second skin, hugging my muscular frame. The arm cut-outs gave me room to move freely, while the thick, high-collared black cloak with red lining draped over my shoulders like it had been waiting for me. The boots—black leather with reinforced soles—strapped tightly with a satisfying snap. The cloak flared as I turned, catching in the air like wings.

I looked… intimidating.

Powerful.

Whole.

The door slid open behind me with a whisper, and in walked Emily and Serenity.

Emily still wore her purplish-pink leather jumpsuit with glossy black thigh boots laced tight. Serenity had on a pearl-white leather jumpsuit with black high boots that shimmered with rune-stamped seams.

They both looked stunning—but Emily stole my breath the moment she stepped in. She always did.

I smirked, arms crossed. “Everyone wears full-on black around here except you two, huh?”

Emily tilted her head and smiled, one hand resting on her hip. “Yeah… I just wanted some contrast.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, it works.”

Serenity chuckled, “You clean up well, dog boy.”

I rolled my eyes, then shrugged the cloak off my shoulders for a second and let it fall back into place. “So… what now?”

“We want to show you the town,” Emily said, taking a step closer. “You’ve only seen the inside of a hospital so far. Time to see where you really woke up.”

I nodded. “Lead the way.”

We stepped out of the hospital and into a different world.

The sun bathed everything in golden light filtered through the trees. Massive solar panels spun silently overhead, angled like flower petals to drink in the sky. Vines and greenery crawled up the sides of buildings—living architecture. Fusion reactors hummed quietly in the distance, veiled in crystal shielding and vines.

But the strangest part wasn’t the tech—it was the shape of everything.

Triangular homes with sharp Nordic roofs lined the pathways. Each one had a tidy lawn with orange grass. No two homes were quite the same, but they all had this Scandinavian-meets-sci-fi aesthetic—clean lines, wooden textures, and light stone walls.

And the wildlife?

That’s what made my brain short-circuit.

Prehistoric-looking birds swooped overhead, their wings leathery like pterosaurs. People walked alongside four-legged reptiles the size of wolves. In the distance, someone rode a sleek, black-feathered theropod like a motorcycle.

“This place is insane,” I muttered under my breath.

Emily smiled. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I turned to her. “Where in the world are we?”

She gave no answer—just led us forward, down a long stone walkway that sloped gently like a ramp. The jungle canopy loomed in the distance, rich and ancient, and the canyon beneath us opened wide into a lush cradle of civilization.

We descended into the heart of the town.

At the center stood a building like no other—City Hall. Its walls were built from pale, rune-carved stone and accented with rich woods and black glass. It looked both old and futuristic, like it belonged in some alternate medieval timeline that had been given alien technology.

Inside, it was even more breathtaking.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, made of crystal branches and glowing moss. Huge arched windows let in sunlight and framed the jungle beyond. Hallways curved like tree roots, and a spiral staircase led us upward. But the centerpiece—the thing that caught my eyes—was the massive skeleton suspended above the main floor.

A winged beast.

Its ribs alone were the size of a shuttle.

“Is that a dragon skeleton?” I asked.

Emily, standing beside me, gently grabbed my hand. “Will… don’t touch. Come.”

Her fingers were warm against my furred hand. Despite everything, her touch still grounded me.

We climbed the stairs to a room veiled in soft light and silence. A round chamber, high ceiling, with a smooth black table in the center and chairs arranged in a circle. Around it were people—Elves in dark robes, a few pale-skinned humans, and tall, crimson-skinned humanoids with glowing eyes and tribal markings.

We took our seats without a word.

At the head of the room stood a tall, regal Elven man with silver-blonde hair pulled back in a braid, and robes of layered dark silk.

“I am Joseph Quincy,” he said. “Thank you for joining us.”

He tapped a crystal embedded in the table. A holographic screen flickered to life in the air above it.

“Two days ago, we received this footage from a scout drone on the tropical world of Talvas IX,” he continued. “The planet is under siege.”

The footage began to play.

A first-person view from a shaky camera—a man, a tourist walking across a beach, waves crashing beside him. He panned the camera around with glee.

Then something moved in the water.

A fin.

The man stepped back, but not fast enough.

Something exploded from the surf, knocking him flat—a shark.

But this shark didn’t just bite. It stood.

Its body twisted, deformed, and grew limbs. It roared—not like an animal, but like a thing born of war. More emerged from the ocean behind it—shapes that stood like soldiers, monstrous, biomechanical, soaked in blood and black oil. A fleet of dark spires descended from the sky—hive ships in the shape of Frilled-Sharks.

“These aren’t sharks,” Quincy said. “We believe they’re something else. Something... engineered.”

I stared.

I couldn’t breathe.

Because I had seen these things before.

In my nightmare.

The thresher. The Megalodon. The saw-tooth one.

Every single creature from that hellish vision was now on screen.

But I said nothing. I didn’t blink. I just kept watching, my hands gripping the arms of the chair until the leather creaked under my claws.

Emily glanced at me. “Will? You okay?”

I nodded slowly. But inside, I wasn’t.

Because now I knew something the rest of the room didn’t.

Those monsters… weren’t just invading.

They were calling me.

We left the dark meeting room in silence, the door sliding shut behind us with a low hiss. The hallway outside was quieter now, lined with soft ambient lights and whispering leaves from the vine-covered walls. The air was warm, but my chest had gone cold.

Emily walked just ahead of us, and I sped up, grabbing her gently by the arm.

“Emily,” I said, voice low and heavy, “please don’t go to Talvas IX.”

She turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

“I mean it,” I said. “During the surgery… when they were transferring my consciousness—I had a dream, or a vision. Those things, those shark-like monsters? I saw them. I felt them. And I think… I think they’re hunting me.”

Her eyes narrowed with concern, but her lips pressed into a faint, sad smile.

“I think you should stay here with Serenity,” she replied softly.

I stepped in front of her. “No. That’s not happening. I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

But Emily simply turned, her boots clicking against the stone floor. She walked away without another word, leaving me with nothing but the sound of her fading footsteps and the ghost of her warmth on my hand.

“This is ridiculous!” I growled, turning to Serenity.

She sighed and crossed her arms. “Yeah… she has the mind of a child sometimes. Don’t take it personally.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder and added, “And I believe you.”

I exhaled hard, tension trembling through my claws. “So now what?”

Serenity smirked. “Now? We cheat.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“We sneak onto the mission. And we’re bringing backup.”

The armory was a cathedral of weapons and tech—racks of fusion blades, plasma bows, and energy staffs lined the walls. But at the far end, in a vaulted room beneath glowing rune-stones, were two hovering devices—black discs etched with Norse-looking runes and red energy veins pulsing beneath their surface.

“This is Wulver armor?” I asked.

Serenity nodded. “Not what you expected?”

“Not even close.”

But as I stepped toward one of the discs, something strange stirred inside me. I knew what it was. Somehow, instinctively.

I reached out, placed the disc against my bare chest, and felt it magnetize—clicking and locking into place. My cloak fell to the floor as I activated the device with a thought.

In an instant, it came to life.

FWOOSH.

Black and silver nanomachines erupted like liquid metal, swirling around me, crawling over my limbs, my shoulders, my skull. In seconds, I stood encased in full armor—metal plates that looked forged and ancient, but humming with futuristic light. The chestplate curved like a wolf’s ribcage, spined shoulders flared outward, and the helmet fused around my head with no visor—just jagged metal crown-spines and glowing red slits that burned like eyes.

“How fitting,” I muttered.

Serenity equipped hers next—her armor formed with elegance, lighter than mine, silver with blue highlights, flowing more like ceremonial armor. Her helmet kept her face protected and added a shining circlet.

We were about to sneak out when we heard footsteps approaching.

Joseph Quincy appeared, tall and regal, with a subtle smirk.

And beside him—fully repaired and polished—stood Droid L-84. His eyes lit up as he recognized me.

“William?” The Droid said.

Serenity raised a brow. “You’re not gonna stop us?”

“On the contrary,” Joseph said. “You’re coming with me. My ship leaves now.”

He turned without waiting, and we followed.

Outside, the jungle sky was turning violet, the sun dipping behind the trees. Dozens of massive spacecraft hovered in the clearing—sleek black vessels shaped like Viking longships, with metallic hulls and glowing engine sails.

Armies marched in formation, soldiers clad in armor as varied in color as a stained-glass mosaic. Green, red, blue, silver—they all bore the same Norse-futuristic look, wielding weapons of ancient design powered by modern fury.

And for some reason… I felt at home in their ranks.

We boarded Joseph’s longship—The Hræfnir—a vessel with dragon-carved sides and smooth halls. As it lifted into orbit, the view outside became a sea of stars and planetary rings.

On the bridge, Joseph stood before a circular interface and began the real briefing.

“Our mission,” he said, “is not only to engage the enemy. We’ve identified key hive ships controlling the swarm. Each hive ship broadcasts a psychic frequency—a link to their collective mind. Sever the link, and we cripple them.”

“By what means?” Serenity asked.

Joseph pulled up a display showing a crystalline virus—digital, almost magical. “A weapon of SOUND. It will disrupt their neural pathways, splinter their coordination.”

“And the delivery system?” I asked.

Joseph looked directly at me.

“You, William.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ll be the one delivering it. No one else has the biology to slip past their psionic barrier. You’re… unique.”

I didn’t answer.

I just sat down at my station near the side of the bridge, staring out into the void, into the endless tapestry of stars.

I didn’t know what I was.

But I knew one thing: my instincts were returning.

And as I drifted off to sleep in that cold metal chair, another dream took me.

But it wasn’t a nightmare.

It was… a memory.

A woman.

Not Emily.

She stood in a black dress, embroidered with patterns of wolves and moons, staring at me with dark brown eyes that pierced straight into my soul. Her hair was long and dark, her skin light, her figure strong and graceful.

“Madeline Scoggin,” I whispered in my sleep.

Her name came to me like an old tune I hadn’t heard in years—but I knew it.

She smiled faintly, standing beneath a tree covered in golden leaves.

Then the world shook, and she reached out for me just as everything fell into shadow—

And I woke up.

I jolted awake with a sharp breath, staring again into the vast black of space beyond the viewport.

But I shook it off.

No time for dreams. No time for false memories. I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t care. Emily was down there. And I wasn’t about to let her die on some alien rock crawling with nightmare creatures.

Joseph turned to us. “We’re deploying. Drop ship’s ready.”

We moved fast, no ceremony. Droid L-84 clanked behind us in full combat mode, his new frame glinting in the red lights of the hangar. Serenity jogged beside me, her silver-blue armor flexing like living metal. and followed Joseph through the tunnel toward the launch bay.

The Black Bird drop ship loomed ahead—a sleek obsidian dart with glowing crimson thrusters and wings that split like a bat’s blade. It looked like a predator in mid-scream.

We climbed aboard.

The moment we were sealed in, the engines roared, and the interior rattled like a war drum. I strapped in beside Serenity, across from Joseph and the droid. The walls were tight, no windows—just flashing red lights and the deep hum of power surging through the floor.

“This is it,” I muttered.

“Breathe,” Serenity said with a calm smirk. “Just another Tuesday.”

I didn’t respond.

We breached the atmosphere of Talvas IX like a bullet tearing through cloth.

And all hell broke loose.

The ship jerked, alarms blaring. We were hit—not once, but again and again, loud thuds rocking the hull.

“They’re already here!” I shouted.

Joseph gritted his teeth at the controls. “Hold on!”

Through the view-screen above the cockpit, I saw them.

They weren’t ships.

They were monsters.

Flying sharks, their bodies twisted like gargoyles—stone-like skin, massive jaws, twisted tails for steering. But what made my blood freeze were the white ones—glowing like spirits, suspended in the air as if gravity meant nothing. Their fins sliced through the wind, trailing streaks of pale light, and their forehead appendages sparked with white-blue plasma.

And then came the pain.

BZZZZK—WHAM!

A bolt of electrical plasma hit the side of our drop ship, forcing Joseph to spin the vessel in a wild corkscrew. The whole crew slammed against their restraints as sparks flew from the overhead panels.

“They’re charging their horns!” L-84 shouted in his deep synth voice. “Incoming!”

Joseph swerved hard. “Not today!”

The mounted plasma turrets on the drop ship came to life—controlled by Joseph’s neural interface. Twin barrels tore into the sky with glowing rounds, blasting two of the flying sharks mid-charge. They spiraled out in arcs of fire, crashing into the misty jungle below.

Joseph didn’t respond. He was too focused—eyes glowing faintly with dataflow, arms tense at the controls.

More drop-ships streaked through the atmosphere around us, some trailing smoke, others already in flames.

But somehow, Joseph kept us airborne.

And then, suddenly—

THUD.

We touched down.

The hatch hissed open, and the world outside came flooding in—steam, heat, and the smell of burnt ozone.

Talvas IX was a jungle moon scorched by war.

The trees were massive, twisted with blackened bark and glowing veins of green energy. Fungal towers loomed in the distance, and strange birds screamed in the canopy. The sky was a blood-red bruise, filled with smoke trails and flares from the other drop ships landing nearby.

Dozens of Black Birds had made it, unloading squads of Viking-armored soldiers onto muddy soil. I saw banners unfurl, weapons ignite, formations fall into place.

But even surrounded by allies, I felt something was wrong.

I stepped off the ramp, boots sinking into wet soil, and I just… knew.

Something… some mind… was behind all of this.

I looked to the sky again, watching the creatures still circling above.

Sure, they had flesh and blood. They tore through metal, devoured bone, hunted in packs.

But they didn’t behave like animals.

No chaos.

No hesitation.

No fear.

They moved with purpose.

“They're killers,” I said.

Serenity looked at me, her blue eyes sharp behind her helm. “They act like they’ve been trained.”

“No. Not trained,” I said slowly, my fists tightening. “Controlled.”

Joseph stepped up beside us, surveying the terrain with an old soldier’s instinct. “Hive minds usually behave like they’re being controlled. These things aren’t just animals… they’re soldiers. That’s what worries me.”

Droid L-84 scanned the air. “Multiple signals converging north. Emily’s unit dropped in that direction.”

Before Droid L-84 could speak another word, Joseph cut in.

“That’s exactly where we’re heading,” he said, eyes sharp beneath his helmet. “Not just to meet up with Emily… but to launch the weapon—at the orbital gun.”

He paused, letting it sink in.

“That outpost may already be crawling with Shark People. Once they realize we’ve got the virus, we’ll have every one of those bastards on our backs.”

I clenched my fists, gears turning. Then it hit me—something from Earth, buried in memory.

“Wait,” I said. “Back in biology class… sharks. Sharks are drawn to blood. And sound.”

Joseph raised a brow. “Go on.”

“We can reach Emily and get her out. But we’ll need a second party to set a distraction—draw the swarm away. A blood trail, sonic bait, anything. While I get inside the orbital gun and launch the virus.”

Joseph didn’t hesitate. He slowly unsheathed his blade—steel singing against the scabbard.

“Bold,” he said, smirking. “I like it.”

I looked down at my empty belt. “So where’s my weapon?”

Droid L-84 stepped forward, holding out a heavy plasma axe—its head pulsing with blue heat. On the other hand, he offered a plasma handgun in a sleek black holster.

I strapped them on without a word. They felt like they belonged there.

Then Joseph nodded.

“Let’s move. The cannon outpost is waiting.”

And with that, we began our march through the jungle—toward fire, steel, and fate.

The canyon winds howled low as we crept through the towering jungle trees. Our boots pressed into moss-covered stone, and distant calls of prehistoric birds echoed overhead. The Cannon Outpost was just ahead—half-buried into the mountainside like a fortress fossilized into nature itself.

Joseph raised a fist to halt our approach. A figure stood at the entrance, her armor catching the golden twilight like a polished blade.

It was Emily.

She stood tall, clad in ornate silver armor etched with curling motifs—her helmet’s smooth metal faceplate glinted coldly, and a plume of black horsehair trailed behind her head like a war banner. Her shoulder plates were violet, regal and intimidating, and her waist bore a battle skirt woven with deep red lights pulsing like veins of lava.

She didn’t lift her visor.

Instead, her voice crackled through her comms. “What are you doing here?”

Emily wasn’t just surprised—she was furious.

Her glare fell on Serenity like a blade.

“You brought him? He’s not even supposed to—!”

“I came on my own,” I interrupted. “There’s no time for this. The virus—the cannon—we’re doing this now.”

Emily went quiet, her jaw clenched behind the metal mask. Then Joseph raised his voice.

“We breach the door. Set charges.”

His command broke the tension like thunder.

Several soldiers ran forward, attaching compact plasma explosives to the heavy blast doors. The countdown started. I tightened my grip on the plasma axe, its hum faint but menacing.

Boom.

The doors blew inward with a blast of white-hot light.

What waited inside made us all freeze.

The air was thick with the stench of death—burnt ozone, blood, decay. Bodies lay scattered like discarded puppets—tourists, civilians, security forces—all torn apart. Some were half-eaten, others mutilated beyond recognition. The floor was slick with blood, pooled beneath flickering ceiling lights.

Then we heard it—a choked scream from deeper in the hall.

I rushed ahead, pushing past the others.

There, in the flickering dark, I found her.

A Crimseed woman, her crimson skin now pale and blotched with bruises, lay cornered beneath a grotesque Shark creature—its humanoid body hunched, pulsating, grotesquely animated with wet breathing gills and jagged teeth. It didn’t care that we were there.

It was raping her.

My heart dropped into a pit of horror and rage so deep I could hardly think.

I lunged, slamming my shoulder into the beast’s side.

It snarled, twisting toward me—but I had already pulled my axe. I slashed low and severed its genitals in a single stroke. The thing screamed in unnatural pitch, flailing as I drove the axe deep into its skull. Bone cracked, plasma hissed—and it dropped in a twitching heap.

The woman sobbed in shock, her body trembling. Joseph called for medics. Two soldiers came forward, lifting her carefully and leading her out.

I stood there, staring down at the oozing corpse of the Shark.

“They’re not animals,” I muttered. “They’re monsters.”

No one disagreed.

Then—a shriek echoed down the corridors.

Dozens of red lights flickered in the shadows, like eyes.

“They're coming,” Emily said.

And they did.

The first swarm burst out from the far end of the corridor—at least two dozen of them, leaping on clawed limbs, wielding jagged weapons made of bone and metal. The Shark People screamed as they charged, and we opened fire.

My axe cleaved through the first that got close—its flesh sizzled against the plasma edge, black blood spraying across my chestplate. Joseph fought like a legend, his sword spinning and flashing like lightning. Serenity stayed close, guns blazing in bursts of blue plasma.

Emily... she moved like a ghost of war—silent, lethal, the red lights in her armor gleaming with each elegant, deadly strike. She never raised her visor once. Not even for me.

Droid L-84 was relentless—his arm cannon unleashed charged blasts, vaporizing anything in his path. One Shark leapt onto his back—he reached behind him, crushed its skull with one hand, and hurled the body down the hall like garbage.

The fight lasted minutes—but it felt like a war.

Eventually, the corridor fell silent again. Piles of enemy corpses smoked and twitched on the floor.

We stood there, catching our breath.

But we all knew what that was.

The first wave.

More were coming.

The first swarm was dust and smoke.

The bodies of the Shark People lay still across the blood-slick floors, their alien fluids bubbling in grotesque puddles. Steam hissed from scorched ceiling panels, and the air buzzed with static from fried lights and broken monitors. We knew it wasn’t over.

The moment the fighting calmed, Joseph turned to the others.

“Open the sunroof.”

The ceiling above groaned and clicked—a massive mechanical system stirred to life, gears grinding with unnatural precision. Ancient alien hydraulics hissed as armored plating peeled back layer by layer like the petals of a dying flower, revealing the sky. Sunlight pierced the chamber, casting harsh beams across the orbital cannon nestled in the heart of the outpost.

It was massive—twenty meters long, blackened and chrome, its barrel aimed directly toward the heavens like a titan’s finger. Coils of plasma energy circled its spine, pulsing with latent power.

“There’s no time,” I said. “Somebody has to load the virus into that thing manually.”

Joseph turned to me, already sensing what I meant.

“I’ll do it. But you need to get everyone else out—including Emily.”

His brow furrowed.

“You sure about this?”

“I am. Just keep in touch over comms. If I go down, someone’s got to know what happened.”

Unsurprisingly, Emily had been listening.

“No. Absolutely not,” she barked, stepping forward. “I told you to stay away from this mission. I should’ve left you behind—”

“Emily,” I said, locking eyes with her helmet. “I’m not doing this to prove anything. I’m doing it because I’m the only one who can. This isn’t about us.”

She clenched her fists, lips pressed in a thin, bitter line.

It took Serenity to pull her back—literally.

“Come on,” she muttered as she gripped Emily’s arm. “We don’t have time for this, Em.”

Joseph gave me one last nod, then tapped his comms.

“We’ll draw off as many as we can. Hold the base. We’ll be back.”

And just like that—they were gone.

Now, it was just me and Droid L-84.

The droid’s mechanical body clicked and hissed as he adjusted the controls beside the cannon. His voice crackled through his speaker grill.

“Manual preparation requires sixty-seven steps. Begin with a rotating plasma chamber interface.”

The alien tech was clunky, yet breathtaking. The cannon itself wasn’t just a weapon—it was an artwork of war, lined with runes and glowing etchings that shimmered with violet light. Together, we worked like clockwork—unlocking panels, charging conduits, inserting bio-tubes.

Eventually, I climbed the back of the barrel and inserted the virus capsule—a glowing orange core, gently pulsing with nanite energy.

It clicked into place with a hiss.

“All systems are green,” said Droid L-84. “Charging cycle initiated. Estimated time: thirty standard units.”

I sighed, adjusting my plasma handgun’s holster.

“Thirty minutes. Alright.”

We used that time to fortify. Droid L-84 brought out plasma turrets, laser mines, ammo crates, reinforced gates—every tool we could salvage. The base was now a war nest, a last stand bunker. We’d turned it into a killing ground.

Then came the call.

Joseph’s voice cracked over comms.

“We’ve lured most of them into the ravine. Lit the charges. But a large chunk of the hive’s broken off. They’re coming your way.”

“How bad?”

“Big enough to blacken the jungle.”

And it was.

From the sun roof, I could see them—hundreds of Shark People, rising like a tide over the emerald jungle. Their monstrous bodies rippled with muscles, spines, gills. Some ran on all fours, others on two legs like warriors from Hell. Their war cries shrieked across the valley.

I turned to the droid.

“Light ’em up.”

Droid L-84 mounted a rooftop cannon and began raining plasma on the horde. I grabbed a heavy repeater and took position on the wall, blasting anything that got too close. The beasts fell by the dozens, smoke trails hissing into the sky. But it wasn’t enough.

One of them—a Thresher Shark variant—spun like a drill and burrowed underground, punching through the concrete and opening a tunnel directly into the base.

Seconds later, the Shark People came pouring out—talons, claws, shrieking mouths—like roaches erupting from a corpse.

I kicked the platform’s ladder down, hoping it would slow them.

It barely did.

They began piling up, climbing over each other to reach me.

I grabbed my axe and held the line.

Steel sang as I swung the blade in furious arcs—splitting skulls, cleaving jaws, cutting limbs in waves. I fought like a demon, blood splashing on my armor, the handle slick with gore. But they just kept coming.

A moment of clarity hit me—I saw a crate of explosives nearby.

I grabbed two charges, armed them, and tossed them down into the breach.

Boom.

The basement exploded in a flash of red fire and dust. Half the swarm was blown to shreds.

I tossed the remaining charges to Droid L-84. “Finish them off!”

He obliged—precision missiles fired into the chaos, turning the battlefield into a hell storm.

Meanwhile, I jumped from the platform and ran to the cannon’s timing panel.

Five seconds.

I turned.

The cannon glowed.

Then—fired.

A blinding beam of energy lanced into the atmosphere, taking the virus with it. It screamed upward like the finger of God, leaving a ripple across the sky.

I had done it.

But it wasn’t over.

I heard the walls crack.

A new swarm broke through—not just grunts this time. These were elite warriors. Bigger. Stronger. Faster. At the front, the Saw-Tooth class—with spinning circular saw-jaws that hummed like bone buzzsaws.

I grabbed my axe—but it snapped in half after killing the third one.

I staggered back, unarmed.

Then came the last one.

A bio-form, towering and chitinous, like a Stethacanthus shark fused with a crab. Its back bristled with bony armor. Massive pincers and serrated limbs clicked and scraped the floor as it loomed over me.

It charged.

I dodged, firing my plasma pistol. It barely scratched its hide. I aimed for its eyes—only made it mad.

It lunged, impaling me through the side with its talon.

I gasped.

Blood filled my throat. I was inches from its massive, serrated jaws.

I was going to die.

But then—

Something changed.

I couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Instead, I felt a pulse—a surge from my chest, rising up my arm.

And that’s when it appeared.

The chainsword.

Black and silver, humming with ethereal energy. The air around it shimmered with ghostlight.

It had manifested from the Immortal still inside me.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed the hilt, and sliced upward—ripping free from the monster’s talon. I charged, slammed the sword forward.

The blade’s motor spun with a roar as it dug into the beast’s skull, tearing through bone and brain until the entire head split in two.

The monster collapsed in a twitching heap, cut completely in half.

Still carrying the sword, I staggered back up to the platform, panting.

Droid L-84 turned to me, his scanners flashing concern.

“I believe... we survived.”

But I couldn’t answer.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed.

A few moments later, the Black-Bird Drop-Ship roared overhead, casting a massive shadow over the ruins. It landed fast, kicking up dust. The side doors opened—and Emily came running with medics in tow.

I barely felt their hands lifting me.

Emily knelt beside me, her visor now raised. Her green eyes were wide with worry.

“You jerk,” she whispered. “You actually did it.”

And just like that... Everything went quiet.

We went home for the day.

And I finally drifted off into sleep.

The Wake and the Weight of Truth

I awoke to that all-too-familiar hum of fluorescent lights above and the sterile tang of hospital-grade disinfectant. My back pressed into an overly stiff mattress, the sheets tucked tight enough to suffocate, and the low ambient beep of machines monitoring my vitals quietly pulsed in the background.

"This shit again..." I muttered to myself.

The ceiling hadn’t changed much since the last time I woke up in a place like this. White, modular panels—just as oppressive as ever. I groaned, pushing myself up with some resistance, half-expecting pain to shoot through my side where the crab-shark impaled me—but nothing. I patted around my torso, my ribcage, and finally stared at my bare right side. Smooth. Not even a scar. Not a dent. Not even a faint bruise. It was like the entire encounter had been surgically erased from my body.

Confused, I looked around the room and caught sight of Doctor Subi, pacing near the far wall with a datapad. The moment he noticed I was awake, his eyes lit up with a warmth that didn’t quite match the cold clinical space.

“You’re awake,” he said, stepping forward. “That’s… honestly miraculous. We weren’t sure if you—”

I cut him off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “No injuries, huh?” I said. “What the hell happened to me? And don’t feed me any more vague answers—I want to know everything. Especially about the Immortal creature inside me.”

Subi gave a cautious smile, the kind people give when they’re deciding whether to lie or soften the truth.

“That… is complicated. You’d get a clearer explanation from Droid L-84. He’s the one with deep archives on the Immortals.”

I stood, bare feet on the cold floor, my fists clenched. “Fine. Then tell me this: why the hell am I remembering things that aren’t mine? Combat experience. Tactical maneuvers. Her. I keep seeing a woman—her face, her voice—someone I’ve never met. And don’t say it’s hallucinations.”

That last part must’ve stung, because Subi winced and looked away.

I stepped closer, my voice low and pointed.

“There’s no way hallucinations can make me a soldier overnight. I knew how to fire an orbital cannon like I’d done it all my life. I performed field triage, analyzed swarm behavior, and predicted enemy tactics. That doesn’t come from fever dreams.”

Subi sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I suppose you’re ready for the truth,” he said. “The woman you’re seeing—her name is Madeline Scoggin.”

The name struck me like a slap across the face. My pulse quickened. I’d never heard that name spoken aloud before, yet something about it sent ripples through my mind, like echoes in a cavern that wasn’t mine.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“A princess,” Subi said bitterly. “From the Red Dragon Empire.”

I let out a dry laugh. “A princess? You’re telling me I’ve got flashbacks of a royal?”

“She wasn’t a good princess,” he shot back, stepping closer. “She and her bloodline were behind a centuries-long conspiracy. Corruption. Bloodshed. And war—against the Crimson Empire of Vikingnar.”

He paused, letting the weight of those words settle.

“Your current Wulver body—it was grown in a lab. Engineered. But it wasn’t blank when we gave it to you. The last soul to inhabit it was a man named Wilson. He was one of us… until he betrayed our people for her.”

My mouth went dry. “So, this Wilson guy… he was in love with Madeline Scoggin?”

“Infatuated. Controlled. Twisted,” Subi said, his eyes cold. “He was once a king of Vikingnar. My sister’s husband.”

That hit like a sledgehammer.

“She was queen. One of the most beloved rulers in our history. And he murdered her in cold blood. For Scoggin. That’s why we made sure he never came back.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to absorb what I’d just heard. “So now I’m walking around in the skin of a backstabbing tyrant.”

“No,” Subi said. “Now you’re walking around in a vessel that was once his—but is becoming yours. Thanks to the Immortal that fused into your soul. It’s an ancient being. An old-world guardian. It ensures no foreign mind can dominate the body. Wilson is gone. But his memories, his instincts... some of them may remain. They’ll merge with yours. Slowly. Carefully.”

I leaned against the bed frame, eyes narrowed. “So I’m the ghost of two men. The butcher and the nobody.”

“You’re neither,” Subi said. “You’re the bridge. You’re the buffer that might stop another war from erupting. And more importantly... you're someone who understands betrayal. Pain. Isolation. That’s why I chose you.”

I scoffed. “You chose me because I’ve been kicked around my whole life?”

Subi nodded, his expression softening. “You told me you wanted revenge. That you’d go back to Earth and make the people who hurt you pay. That darkness inside you... it's not weakness. It’s understanding. It’s what makes you not, Wilson.”

I stayed quiet. For the first time in a while, I actually felt seen.

Subi sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll be honest. This isn’t just about redemption. It’s personal. Wilson killed my sister. The people of Vikingnar still chant his name in secret. But you? You’re the one with his strength, his skills—without his poison.”

“So what now?” I asked. “You want me to take up his sword and fight your war?”

“No,” Subi said. “I want you to rewrite the war. But first... rest. You’ve earned it. There’s a suitcase over there. Clothes, supplies, and... something else.”

He didn’t elaborate.

He handed me a chip-card with an address etched onto its surface in glowing runes.

“Your new home. Just outside the city’s eastern rim. A hover cab’s waiting in the lot. Your next steps begin tomorrow.”

I nodded slowly. My hand lingered on the suitcase, cold and smooth, a polished alloy with an elegant silver clasp. Something about it felt heavier than it looked. I didn’t know then that hidden inside the lining was a second canister—another Immortal, dormant and waiting.

I left the hospital room without another word. Outside, the twin suns were just starting to set behind the crystalline skyline of Vikingnar’s capital. The air smelled of ozone, of wildflowers and distant snow.

The cab door slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing a sleek black interior with neon blue trim.

I stepped in.

And just like that… I was on my way to the next mystery.

The hover cab glided smoothly above the ground, weaving through tree-lined avenues and bio-luminescent lanterns that marked the outer residential district. As we left the gleaming towers of the Vikingnar capital behind, the terrain shifted into gentle hills, dotted with serene homesteads that looked like they were carved out of a dream—each one a blend of futuristic elegance and ancient Nordic craftsmanship.

We finally came to a stop in front of a house built in perfect triangular symmetry—a Scandinavian-style home, sleek and simple, with dark wooden beams and glowing runes etched into the siding. The roof sloped steeply, covered in solar tiles that shimmered with the faint light of the planet’s twin moons. The air smelled of pine and ozone.

I stepped out of the cab and approached the door, pulling the key card from my pocket. It hummed quietly in my hand, unlocking the entry with a soft chime.

The inside was warm and modern—an open floor plan with glass walls that looked out onto the backyard. The wood interiors were accented with steel and lightstone, and every detail felt... deliberate. Clean. Peaceful.

My gaze drifted toward the backyard—and that’s when I saw her.

Emily.

She was waist-deep in the water of a crystal-clear pool, the ambient light of the city reflecting off her black bikini. Her dark hair was wet, slicked back behind her ears, and her green eyes shimmered like emeralds under the moonlight. For a moment, the rest of the galaxy seemed to disappear.

I didn’t say anything. I just quietly slid the suitcase down next to the door, peeled off my shirt, then my boots, then the rest. My feet hit the smooth stone as I stepped outside, the night air cool against my skin.

She turned when she heard the splash—smiling faintly as I slipped into the pool beside her.

We didn’t speak at first.

We just drifted close, the water cool, but the space between us warm. Our arms eventually found their way around each other. At first for comfort. Then for more. There was no tension. No awkwardness. Just that strange feeling like we’d known each other far longer than we actually had.

“Where are we?” I finally asked, breaking the silence. “I mean... what’s this planet called? I never caught the name. And I know Vikingnar has several worlds under its rule.”

She leaned her forehead gently against mine. “This is Skaalandr,” she whispered. “It’s one of the free planets. A quiet one. I believe that’s why the Immortal brought you here—to give you peace.”

I nodded slowly, letting the name settle into my thoughts. Skaalandr. It fits. Like a place out of myth.

She tightened her grip around me slightly and said, “Thank you... for helping with the mission.”

I smirked. “Kinda threw myself into it without thinking.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” she said, her voice shifting from soft to serious. “Don’t do that again.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

She stared at me, eyes glistening. “Because I couldn’t take it if I lost you.”

My breath caught.

She moved in closer, our foreheads touching again.

“I love you,” she whispered.

I blinked. “Already?”

Before I could get another word out, she kissed me.

And the rest just... fell away.

The weight of alien worlds, of dead kings and ancient betrayals, of blood-soaked memories not my own, my own past misery—all of it vanished in the warmth of her lips, the softness of her skin. She kissed me like someone who had been waiting lifetimes for this one moment.

And there I was—in a different world, in a different body, under different stars—making love to the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.

No Earth.

No pain.

No past.

Just her.

Just us.

And for the first time since this strange journey began...

I didn’t feel alone.

---

"VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA" CHAPTER 1: "RAPTURE"