Neon

The world was bathed in a cold, electric light.

Two pale stars hung high like bullet holes in the eternal night, their twin glares filtered through the swirling smoke that covered every inch of the battlefield, rising ominously over the debris of war.

The stars were extraordinarily bright, casting an eerie glow over the wreckage of steel and bodies. Their light washed over the shattered cityscape like ghosts of a long-forgotten past. Towering structures, half-destroyed yet pulsing with flickering neon veins, loomed over the battlefield, the remnants of a world that had long since given itself over to war. The sky was choked with the hum of distant drones and machinery, their lights slicing through the darkness.

Amidst the chaos, a lone figure moved like a ghost through the wreckage.

Neon.

His body was covered in a sleek, dark bodysuit segmented with shifting plates. Slits and lines across the suit revealed aqua-blue circuitry that pulsed with every breath he took, reflecting off of the damp surface below him. He darted forward, movements impossibly fluid, his boots skimming the fractured ground. 

A high-frequency blade hummed in his right hand, a razor-thin edge of energy that cut through the air with a faint crackle.

Three Militia warriors rushed him, their armor crude yet resilient, their weapons ancient in comparison to his own. A swordsman lunged, blade flashing under the neon lights. 

Neon twisted at the last second, his own energy blade humming even louder as it cut across the air. With a flick of his wrist, he severed the enemy’s weapon at the hilt before slamming a reinforced boot into his chest, sending him sprawling into a heap of shattered stone, unconscious and unable to move.

It was always the same, so much so that Neon had grown increasingly accustomed to fighting. This was the fifth consecutive day he had been on the battlegrounds without any rest whatsoever. He was just starting to feel the dizziness. 

Historical records showed that Militia and Nyxia had been at war since the beginning of time, with both of them coming close to winning the fight multiple times. And yet, they were stuck in a stalemate again. Neither side truly had an advantage over the other. 

It was almost too perfectly balanced. No matter how much more advanced Nyxia´s technology was, Militia had a nation full of fighters and healers. 

A second Militian warrior fired a Nyxian soldier´s pulse rifle from behind the wreckage of a crumbling transit pillar. Neon lifted his left arm, activating a hard light barrier just as the blast streaked toward him. The energy dispersed harmlessly across the hexagonal shield. He crouched, twisting his fingers to reshape the projection into a lance, then hurled it forward. It speared through the air, striking the soldier dead center and knocking him to the ground with a dull thud.

A healer, panicked, scrambled to tend to its fighters. 

Neon saw the movement, exhaled, and snapped his fingers. From the palm of his glove, a swarm of micro-cables burst forth, zipping toward the healer. They wrapped around her arms, forming bands of crackling electric restraints. She struggled, her eyes filled with terror. Neon hesitated- only for a moment- but it was enough. A sharp pain bloomed in his side.

A blade had found him.

Neon gritted his teeth, twisting away from the attacker- a Militia fighter with a long, curved weapon, its surface slick with his own blood. A deep gash marred his side, the suit’s auto-seal struggling to close the wound. Warnings flashed in his field of vision. His sight wavered.

Not now. Not like this.

With a ragged breath, he triggered an emergency blink-jump. His bodysuit responded instantly, the blue lines shining brighter and hard light folding space around him. The world blurred, his surroundings collapsing and reassembling in a disorienting flash. He reappeared several meters away, staggering as his boots skidded against the cracked ground. His tech was failing, and so was his body. 

He had to move. Had to get away.

Somewhere beyond the battlefield, beyond the ruins, he ran.

Neon’s breath was shallow by the time he reached the border- the place where no man was meant to cross.

The Frontier. 

It stretched before him, a massive, translucent barrier that pulsed with a deep, humming resonance. The war-torn land reflected on its surface in strange, warped images, twisting and shifting like a living thing. It was said to be impenetrable, a boundary between their world and the enemy’s. 

A perfect divide, eternal and absolute. Up close, it was overwhelming. Monolithic. It swallowed the sounds of battle behind him, replacing them with an eerie silence that made his skin crawl.

He exhaled, his breath fogging against the cold surface. His hand, trembling from both exhaustion and curiosity, reached out. The barrier didn’t push back. It didn’t react. It simply existed, a force beyond understanding.

Neon sank to his knees, pressing his weight against the solid boundary. Blood dripped from his wound, staining the ground beneath him. His head tilted back, staring up at the endless wall of shimmering light.

And then...

A sound.

Faint. Distant. A melody, weaving through the stillness like a whisper through glass.

It was soft, broken by ragged breaths, yet laced with something deeper- sorrow, longing. The voice trembled, but it did not stop. It came from just beyond the barrier.

Neon’s pulse slowed. He closed his eyes and simply listened.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the war faded to nothing.

A few moments later, though, the sounds stopped. 

Neon sighed. He sat up slightly and looked behind him, hearing a faint, muffled voice again, this time talking normally. Then there was a dark shadow at the boundary forming the shape of a girl, growing larger and larger just behind him. 

"Who´s there?" the voice asked softly from the other side. Neon´s eyes widened in disbelief. He could hear the girl properly on the other side for the first time.

He stood up quickly, groaning in pain and exhaustion, and retrieved his dagger. It activated with a soft hum, emitting light against the dark veil in front of him. 

The figure loomed closer and closer from the other side as he braced himself, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

Then he spoke over his voice filter, his tone loud and static. 

"Who are you?"