Chapter 12: The Hub’s Pulse
Roen Kast slumped against the dais, his palms scraped bloody, his side a throbbing mess of bruises and shallow cuts. The Crack Void Hub loomed above him, its jagged stone walls shimmering with veins of blue light, shifting and flexing like a beast stretching after a long sleep. The hum was louder now, a low rumble that buzzed through his boots and into his bones, as if the hub itself had a pulse. He watched cracks in the stone seal shut, the surface smoothing like skin over a fresh scar—the evolution was churning along, relentless. The system's timer blinked in his peripheral: ten hours, fifty-seven minutes until the next stage. Each tick felt like a hammer on his nerves.
Liya sprawled nearby, cross-legged, her wild tangle of hair plastered to her face with sweat and dirt. Her leg bandage was a soggy red mess, and she stared at her sword, tracing the nicks with a chipped fingernail. The wind shrieked around them, sharp and cold, carrying the tang of ozone and the faint metallic whiff of their own blood. Roen's breath puffed white in the misty air, his chest tight from their mad dash back across the floating stones. Those Kast Wraiths—traitor, worthless—their hissing echoes still clawed at his mind, but the hub's glow seemed to shove them back, a flickering shield against the dark.
"Kid," Liya rasped, her voice gravelly, "you think those shadow creeps are done with us?" She swatted her arm, scowling at nothing. "Or are they just licking their wounds?"
Roen rubbed his temples, the ache pulsing in sync with the hub's hum. "They're Kast family baggage—ghosts of spite and bad decisions. As long as the clan's got a grudge, they'll keep crawling out." He squinted into the swirling mist, thick as soup, hiding whatever was coming next. "But this—" He slapped the dais, the stone warm and thrumming under his palm—"this is ours now."
Liya's grin flickered, sharp but brittle. "Yeah, fried those wraiths like moths on a grill." She mimed a crackling zap, then winced, clutching her leg. "Shit—stings like hell."
"Wrap it tighter, bug lady," Roen said, tearing another strip from his shredded cloak and tossing it her way. "You're bleeding all over my masterpiece." She snatched it midair, muttering curses as she cinched it around her thigh with a grunt. He patched his own side, the sting cutting through the fog in his head. Pain was good—pain kept you sharp. Doubt just got you dead.
The hub's walls rippled again, stone bulging and contracting like muscle under a tattooed hide, the blue veins pulsing thicker. Roen's old architect instincts flared—buildings didn't grow like this back on Earth. But here, in this fractured hellscape, the hub was alive, reshaping itself like some monstrous organism waking from a nap. He could almost see it: supports thickening, edges sharpening, a fortress sketching itself in real time. It was beautiful, in a twisted way—and it scared the shit out of him.
"System," he muttered, "what's this thing becoming?" The panel flared to life:
System Notification: Crack Void Hub evolving to Stage 1: Basic Defensive Structure. Capabilities: Energy Pulse (cooldown: 23 hours, 58 minutes), reinforced walls, Detection Aura (range: 100 meters). Movement function unlocking in 10 hours, 56 minutes, 42 seconds.
"Basic?" Roen snorted, tracing a finger along the dais. "Feels more like a war machine." The stone was solid now, no cracks, the glow steady as a heartbeat. It wasn't much, but it was theirs—better than the crumbling heap he'd started with.
Liya leaned over, squinting at the text. "So, it's a guard dog now? Bites back?" She swatted the air, growling playfully. "Better not have bugs in it."
"No bugs," Roen said, smirking. "Just stone and sparks. Chill." But the smirk faded as the system pinged again, shrill and insistent:
System Notification: Anomaly detected—unidentified aerial signature, 800 meters, closing at 30 meters per second. Hostile intent probable.
Roen's stomach dropped. "Aerial?" He lurched to his feet, scanning the sky. The mist hung heavy, but above it—movement. A sleek shadow sliced through the fog, fast and predatory, like a hawk spotting prey. "Scout ship—damn it."
Liya staggered up, her bad leg wobbling, but she steadied herself, sword raised. "Kast assholes don't quit, huh? Plan, brain-boy?" Her grin was all teeth, wild and reckless, though her grip on the blade trembled slightly.
Roen's mind spun—800 meters at 30 per second meant less than thirty ticks. The Energy Pulse was down, and their swords wouldn't scratch a ship. But the Detection Aura stretched 100 meters now—if they could pull it into range, maybe the hub's field would fry its circuits like it did the wraiths.
"Edge of the platform," he said, shoving Liya toward the slope. "We're bait—reel it in, let the hub cook it."
"Bait?" Liya cackled, limping forward. "You're nuts, kid—I'm in!" She hit the rim, waving her arms like a lunatic. "Hey, tin bird! Come snack on bug lady!"
Roen grimaced but followed, his pulse pounding in his ears. The ship punched through the mist—black, angular, Kast hawk crest glaring on its hull. Small, a scout, but deadly—twin cannons glowed red under its wings. It slowed, hovering, and a robotic voice blared: "Traitor Roen Kast—surrender or be terminated."
"Guess diplomacy's off the table," Roen muttered, tightening his grip on his sword. The cannons whirred, charging, and he dove, yanking Liya behind a boulder as a blast shredded the ground they'd just left. Rock shards sprayed, the air sizzling with heat.
"Nice aim, dickheads!" Liya shouted, peeking out. "Missed me—try harder!" She swatted her neck, growling. "And you, wind bugs, piss off!"
"Not the time!" Roen hissed, pulling her down as another shot scorched the boulder's edge. The ship banked, cannons tracking, but it was closer—150 meters, dropping fast. The hub's hum spiked, the glow flaring, and Roen felt it—a tingle in his skull, the Aura locking on.
"System," he breathed, "how close for disruption?"
System Notification: Aerial signature at 120 meters—energy field interference viable at 100 meters.
"Got it," Roen said, grabbing Liya's arm. "Run—hub, now!" They sprinted, legs burning, weaving as blasts tore up the dirt behind them. Heat licked Roen's back, but they hit the platform, sliding behind the dais.
The ship dove, 100 meters out, and the hub erupted—blue energy crackled outward, snaring the vessel like a spider's web. The ship bucked, engines screaming, its frame spasming as the field chewed through its systems. Sparks sprayed, smoke billowing, and the voice warped: "Sys—tem—er—ror—"
"Eat it," Roen growled, a fierce grin splitting his face. The ship's cannons fired wide, useless, and it crashed into the slope, metal shrieking as it skidded to a halt in a plume of dust and fire.
Liya whooped, punching the air. "Suck it, metal bird! Bug lady strikes again!" She swatted her arm, muttering, "And you bugs—outta here."
Roen slumped against the dais, his side howling, but the adrenaline burned hot. "Good job, decoy," he said, smirking. "You've got a talent for pissing things off."
"Decoy?" Liya scoffed, grinning. "I'm the damn hero—mech slayer, ghost zapper, ship smasher." She thumped her chest, then winced. "Ow—leg's a bitch."
Roen chuckled, but the system's next chime cut it short, cold and sharp:
System Notification: Multiple aerial signatures detected—1.2 kilometers, closing at 50 meters per second. Hostile fleet confirmed: Kast family reinforcements.
Roen's grin vanished, his gut twisting. "Fleet?" He hauled himself up, peering into the mist. Shadows loomed—four ships, bigger, bristling with cannons, cutting through the fog like sharks. The Kast family wasn't playing—they'd sent a hammer to crush them.
"Kid," Liya said, her voice low, "we're screwed, aren't we?" She swatted her arm again, but her grin was gone, her jaw tight.
"Yeah," Roen said, clutching the dais. "But we've got ten hours 'til this thing moves. We hold." He glanced at the hub—walls solid, energy pulsing—and felt it flex, like a beast baring its teeth. They'd survived mechs, wraiths, and a scout. A fleet? Bring it on.
He wasn't dying here—not again.