The first thing Caiden noticed was the silence. Not the gentle quiet of a sleeping city, but a profound, suffocating stillness that seemed to press in on him from all sides. The second thing he noticed was the pain—a dull, throbbing ache that started at the base of his skull and radiated outwards, making even the simple act of opening his eyes feel like a monumental effort.
He was lying on something hard and cold. Stone, maybe? He tried to push himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. A groan escaped his lips, the sound unnervingly loud in the oppressive silence. His memories were a chaotic jumble, a swirling vortex of disconnected images. The sterile glow of a server room, the frantic clack of his own keyboard, the sickening lurch in his gut as he realized the data breach wasn’t a hack, but an inside job. Then, the sharp, metallic taste of fear as the fire alarm blared, followed by a crushing, final impact from behind in the ensuing panic. Not an accident. An erasure.
Was he dead? The thought was strangely calm, a detached observation from a man in his early forties who had seen enough to know when a game was rigged. If this was the afterlife, it was disappointingly uncomfortable.
With a surge of effort, he forced his eyes open. The world swam into focus, a kaleidoscope of blurred shapes and muted colors. He blinked, once, twice, and the scene slowly sharpened. He was in a vast, circular chamber. The walls were carved from a dark, obsidian-like stone that seemed to drink the light. Intricate, glowing lines of faint silver energy pulsed rhythmically across its surface, like veins of captured starlight.
And in that moment, two things happened at once. His mind, unbidden, saw the flow, the logic, the raw language of power humming in the crystalline lattices of the stone—an effortless, intuitive comprehension. Simultaneously, his body tensed, coiling like a spring. His new instincts screamed at him: no cover, single entrance, a perfect kill box.
High above, the ceiling was a dome of what looked like solid night, dotted with constellations he didn’t recognize. A single, brilliant beam of ethereal light pierced the darkness, illuminating the center of the room. And in the center, resting on a raised dais, was a body. It was young, dressed in the simple, worn fatigues of a disposable soldier, and its chest was still. Too still.
Panic, cold and sharp, finally pierced through his daze. He scrambled backwards, the body he was currently inhabiting feeling dangerously light and foreign. He looked down at his hands. They were slender but calloused, with a web of faint white scars across the knuckles. Not his hands. He was wearing the same simple fatigues as the body on the dais.
A wave of vertigo washed over him. He hadn’t just taken over a body. He had replaced someone.
As if triggered by his realization, the silver lines on the walls flared, and a voice echoed in the chamber. It wasn’t a sound that traveled through the air, but one that bloomed directly in the center of his mind—ancient, powerful, and utterly devoid of emotion.
[Starlight Protocol Initialized. Soul Resonance Confirmed. Vessel Integrity at 98.7%.]
Caiden flinched, clamping his new hands over his ears, a futile gesture against a voice that was already inside him.
[Welcome, Host. You have been chosen.]
“Chosen for what?” Caiden whispered, his voice raspy and unfamiliar. “What is this? Where am I?”
[You are within the Nexus, the heart of a fallen empire. Your previous existence has ended. This body is now yours. Your purpose is to begin anew.]
Before he could process the sheer insanity of the statement, a searing pain erupted behind his eyes. Information flooded his mind—not of a quiet life, but of a brutal one. He felt the sting of the neural implant at the base of his new neck, a piece of biotech that forced obedience. He experienced the terror and ruthless efficiency of a “Warhound,” an enslaved child soldier bred for close-quarters combat. He felt the phantom ache of broken bones, the muscle memory of a hundred different ways to kill, and the deep, hollow despair of being utterly expendable.
The influx was too much, a torrent of violent data his mind wasn’t ready for. The glowing lines on the walls blurred into an incomprehensible mess, and a wave of nausea washed over him—cognitive overload. Just as quickly as it came, the feeling subsided, leaving him trembling.
A translucent screen of light shimmered into existence before him, displaying crisp, silver text.
[System Activated: The Last Starlight]
[Host: Caiden]
[Status: Unawakened]
[Archetype: Luminary (Dormant)]
[Active Trait: Instinctive Mastery (Savant Core)]
[Objective: Survive.]
The final word hung in the air, stark and absolute. Survive. In this silent, stone chamber, with the body of a dead soldier lying before him and a universe of brutal new rules crashing down on him, Caiden knew one thing for certain.
His life was over. And it had just begun.