There's a peculiar, almost mythic phenomenon in the realm of "glitches" — a term coined to describe the strange powers users acquire when exposed to anomaly energy, reality tears, or forbidden rituals. Not all glitches are equal. Some are mere augmentations — enhanced reflexes, warped perceptions, body morphs — but then there are broken glitches. These are rare, often feared, and devastating in potential. Broken glitches occur not through ordinary exposure but through extreme duress: when a user is forced beyond their physical, mental, or emotional limits, or when they bleed or sacrifice more than they were ever meant to.
It's a curse wrapped in power. A shattered mirror reflecting something divine… or damned.
These aren't simply accidents. A broken glitch doesn't just happen — it either requires merciless training, like breaking bones to rebuild them stronger, or it demands a freak turn of fate, a cosmic dice roll where destiny chooses to either crown you or curse you.
This is exactly what happened to Dylan.
Before the battle in the Void — a realm known to consume the minds of the unprepared — Dylan underwent a brutal training regimen with Melissa. She pushed him hard: combat drills that left him bloody, sensory deprivation to heighten awareness, memory-layering rituals to accelerate learning. But most critically, they performed a ritual, one meant to awaken latent potential… and it did far more than either of them expected.
The alien they used in the ritual was no ordinary being. Its physiology was so bizarre, its essence so chaotic, that it warped the very nature of the ritual itself. Melissa had rushed it, claimed it was a rare opportunity — but there were cracks in her calm. She admitted she didn't recognize the creature. That was odd in itself: Melissa had seen a lot, and her knowledge of entities and rituals was encyclopedic.
So the question lingers: was it fate, or was it her?
Was this truly a moment of destiny — Dylan chosen by the hand of some higher power to become more than human at the critical moment? Or had Melissa planned it all?
Had she knowingly used an unclassified alien, knowing it would trigger something irreversible in Dylan — a broken glitch that would either destroy him or make him dependent on her?
Worse yet: was she hiding something? Perhaps Melissa knew more about the entity than she let on. Perhaps she wanted Dylan to become something unpredictable, to test him — or to control him.
But why? Trust. Influence. Leverage.
If Dylan became something unstable but powerful, and if Melissa could present herself as his only anchor, his only ally — then she wouldn't just gain his trust. She'd own it. That kind of loyalty is more powerful than any spell.
But there's another possibility: maybe Melissa was afraid. Afraid of what Dylan might become without her hand guiding him. Maybe she saw a future where he'd become a threat — to her and she needed a way to embed herself in his evolution, to entangle her fate with his so deeply that he could never cut her out.
Blood hung in the air like a drifting veil, thick and red, suspended unnaturally in the void. For a few seconds, everything was still. Silent. Even the creature froze, its fangs bared, claws dripping with fresh crimson, breath heaving in anticipation.
Dylan's body was motionless, lying crumpled like a broken puppet at the base of the void. His eyes fluttered, unfocused. Pain swallowed him whole. He could barely hear the creature anymore—it all sounded distant, muffled, like a dying echo in a collapsing universe.
But deep within him—beyond the pain, beyond the physical—something stirred.
A heartbeat.
Then another.
But this wasn't just his own. It was older. Louder. Like drums pounding in the void. Like something ancient and buried was clawing its way to the surface.
No...
Not yet.
His fingers twitched.
The void itself trembled.
Suddenly, a memory surged through him—not of training or power, but of loss. Of the people he couldn't protect. Of Melissa's battered body kneeling outside the void, waiting for him. Of the people who had once called him a monster… and the monster he had vowed to never become.
And yet—he needed it now.
"You want to see power?" he whispered, blood still dripping from his lips. "Then I'll show you something you can't even begin to comprehend."
The creature blinked, confused.
Then it saw it.
Dylan's body, once limp, began to rise—but not with strength alone. Darkness spiraled around him like tendrils, but this wasn't the void's doing. It was his. A pulse of pure, raw energy burst from his chest, blowing back the blood like a gale and warping space itself.
His eyes snapped open—no longer blue, but white-hot with searing energy. Symbols—ancient, glowing sigils—appeared along his arms and neck, burning through his skin with power never before unleashed.
The void quaked.
Even the creature—this cosmic abomination that had ruled this place for millennia—took a cautious step back.
"What… what is this?" it snarled. "What are you?!"
Dylan floated in midair, his feet no longer touching the surface. His body glowed with a deep red-and-silver aura, warping reality around him. His voice echoed as if layered with thousands of others—calm, thunderous, absolute.
"I'm what happens when you corner a dying man with nothing left to lose… and everything to protect."
The creature lunged again, faster this time—driven by desperation. It roared and slashed.
Dylan didn't dodge.
He raised a single hand—and stopped the claw in place. The impact sent a shockwave across the void, tearing open cracks in the white space itself. Space split like broken glass.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he snapped the creature's limb in half.
The beast screamed.
Dylan vanished again—only to reappear behind it, claws now forged of pure energy.
"Let me show you," he whispered, "what real fear looks like."
He slashed once—clean, efficient.
The creature cried out, its body split, but even as it tried to regenerate, Dylan raised his glowing hand toward the sky.
From above, a massive symbol formed in the air—a divine mark, like an eye of fire and judgment.
"This… is the judgment of the forgotten."
A beam of light, red and white and screaming with vengeance, shot down like divine wrath and engulfed the creature entirely.
The void trembled. The creature howled.
Then silence.
And smoke.
Dylan stood alone, surrounded by drifting ash, breathing heavily.
He was alive.
Changed.
But alive.