"How's it going? Any response?" Bai Sha asked Ying Chen, her voice taut as she scanned the horizon.
Ying Chen, the team's premier mech engineer and communications savant, hunched over his signal enhancer, his fingers dancing across the controls. He'd exhausted every trick to boost the transmitter, but the distress call had vanished into the void, unanswered. "Nothing," he said, frustration etching his brow. "It's gone out, but no one's replying."
He wasn't alone. The entire team's attempts to reach the outside world met the same silence.
The dead Federation pilots were no longer the priority. Cen Yuehuai, now comatose, was the crisis. Her face contorted in agony, teeth clenched, blood seeping from her eyes in crimson rivulets. She'd briefly woken earlier, only to lash out wildly, heedless of her name or pleas. Ji Ya had no choice but to bind her, knocking her out before her mental avatar could fully manifest. But the affliction wasn't hers alone—others in the team soon exhibited similar symptoms: nosebleeds, disorientation, violent outbursts. With Cen Yuehuai's precedent, they restrained the afflicted swiftly, but the number of casualties was climbing.
"What's happening to them? Poison?" Xi Nuo asked Ji Ya, his brow furrowed. "You've seen anything like this?"
"Never," Ji Ya said, eyeing the unconscious with unease. "We don't even know if it's contagious."
"Cen Yuehuai was off this morning," Yu Yan said softly. "Her scans were clean, but I'd wager the cause was already in her, dormant, undetectable."
"Not just her," Xi Nuo added, his voice strained. "I felt rough waking up—thought it was lack of sleep." A cold trickle ran from his nose; he wiped it, revealing blood. He forced a bitter smile. "Looks like I'm hit too. Just a matter of time."
He'd soon mirror Cen Yuehuai's collapse.
"What is this, the Federation's secret weapon against Imperials?" Bai Sha said, incredulous. "If they had this, why wait to unleash it?"
Ji Ya gripped her weapon. "Is everyone infected?"
"Not sure," Yu Yan said. "I felt fine this morning, still do."
Poison? Virus? The unknown gnawed at them.
A scream pierced the air, followed by a falcon's piercing cry. From the crowd emerged a snow-white raptor, its feathers gleaming unnaturally, eyes blazing red. It thrashed, wings battering nearby mechs, kicking up a storm of sand. "Cen Yuehuai's mental avatar!" someone shouted.
"Stop it!" another yelled. A rogue avatar was a death sentence—not just for others, but for its host. If it escaped, Cen Yuehuai's mind would collapse.
Two students wielded metal whips, ensnaring the falcon's wings. They braced against their mechs, hauling the half-airborne bird to the ground like a tug-of-war. Bai Sha, jaw set, snatched Cen Yuehuai's bow from the sand, nocked an arrow, and aimed at the shrieking creature. A tendril of her mental energy snaked out, coiling around the falcon. It shuddered, faltering. "Listen," she said, her tone a velvet threat, "I can pin your wings or you can settle down and return. Choose."
Xi Nuo gaped, ready to protest, but the falcon wilted, wings folding as it dissolved. "That… worked?" he said.
"I took a chance," Bai Sha said, exhaling. "She's in a frenzy, but not mindless. We can still reach her."
The incident left the team on edge, though no other avatars emerged. Cen Yuehuai's early onset and unstable mental state likely made her unique. After a hurried council, the lucid members resolved to retrace their path to the arena's entrance, carrying the comatose.
They hadn't gone far when the sand rippled, a sibilant rustle spreading from the horizon. Silver glints betrayed the mechanical serpents from before, their scales flashing in the dunes. Bai Sha drew her blade, Lone Light, and pointed to a few. "You're with me on the vanguard. The rest, follow."
Xi Nuo coughed, his face flushed. He'd been tracking his symptoms, calculating his remaining clarity. Determined to fight, he stifled the itch in his throat. "Your Highness, let me join the vanguard."
"You holding up?" Bai Sha asked.
"I am," he said, resolute.
The lucid fighters charged the serpents. Armor-piercing rounds, followed by electromagnetic pulses to the breaches, were ideal, but their munitions were scarce, and the cannons' charge time was long. Precision and teamwork were critical. Bai Sha organized them into their five-on-five tournament formations, clearing the front and flanks, with the others trailing.
The serpents writhed, churning towering sand clouds. The ground shifted, sinking and swelling, forcing a treacherous march. A student, burdened with a comatose teammate, slipped. A serpent lunged, but Xi Nuo shoved him aside, taking the strike. The beast hoisted him skyward, jaws gaping with razor teeth.
The student froze, but a silver flash cut the air—Xi Nuo's chain-blade gleamed. He somersaulted, thrusters flaring, and whipped the blade around the serpent's jaw. It snapped shut, missing, and thrashed to dislodge him. Xi Nuo retracted the chain, landing safely. "Run!" he barked.
The student scrambled, hauling his charge to the main group. Xi Nuo turned to face the serpents, but a lance of pain pierced his mind. The world bled red, his sanity fraying like scorched thread. A primal urge to destroy surged through him.
A clear, familiar cry rang out—a sound like a spring's chime. Cool clarity washed over him, the red haze receding. He blinked, dazed, as a cascade of silver-blue feathers drifted past. Bai Sha had activated Resonance.
The mental network bound them, diluting fear and pain into bearable fragments. Xi Nuo's heart thundered, his breaths greedy, but he found strength to press on.
They trudged endlessly, only to find the entrance gone, replaced by a desolate ruin. Night fell, starless and moonless, the simulated darkness absolute. The arena's artificial cycles heightened their caution—what new horrors might it spawn?
Without an exit, hope dwindled. Many were comatose, others teetered on the edge. Even Bai Sha faltered, her stamina drained by Resonance. Maintaining the mental web was a Herculean task, her teammates' consciousnesses heavy as raindrops on a fragile spider's thread. Most were losing their grip, and she poured her will into holding them aloft.
Exhaustion crashed over her, but she refused to sever the link, ordering a rest near the ruins. Yu Yan, among the least affected, approached. "Your Highness, we scouted—the entrance is likely underground, but we can't access it."
"Keep looking," Bai Sha rasped. "They staged this to frame us. If we don't escape, their play's for nothing."
Yu Yan nodded. Hours without contact would've alerted the Empire. A confrontation was inevitable, but survival hinged on enduring until rescue.
In her cockpit, Bai Sha tried sending more messages. Her screen flickered, pale text emerging: Do you want to save them?
Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
The anomaly is a virus, 'Nergal.' Remember? Eighteen years ago, the survey ship where only Xipes Ronin survived.
Bai Sha's breath caught. The disaster that claimed Han Jue's parents and the Greiz patriarch, leaving Xipes, her kin, bereft of his mental avatar and dethroned. Xipes gave everything to contain that virus. But time has freed it…
Even if you escape, the infected face mental collapse.
Do you want to save them? Stop this?
Come to the Unbounded City.
In the Federation hospital, Yan Jingyi clutched her head, fragments of the Nexus's voice echoing. Zhou Wei's monitors flatlined briefly, then stabilized. "It's calling," she whispered. Ya Ning's face darkened. "It's Ning Hongxue's trap, and we're still in it."
On Youdu Star, Bai Sha's pulse raced. The Nexus wasn't just a system—it was a predator, and she was its prey. She messaged Xi Nuo: Hold the line. I'm finding answers. The cosmos quaked, but she'd brave its depths to save her team, even if it meant facing the City's heart.