Origin

Neon had fought alone for so long. Then he found Aria.

And now, he led an army.

The title of commander felt foreign in his mouth, like a weapon he hadn’t quite learned to wield. But there was no time to hesitate, no time to second-guess the weight of it. Because in front of him, the General stood at the heart of the battlefield, untouched, unmoving.Neon’s grip tightened on his blade.

He looked like a ghost. Like something wrong with the world. The same cold eyes. The same rigid stance. The same face as Aria’s father. But it couldn’t be.

Neon barely registered Max stepping up beside him, his dagger resting against his fist."That’s gotta be a trick," Max muttered. "It has to be."

Anne, standing on Neon’s other side, said nothing. She didn’t have to. The way she held her blades—knuckles white, breath shallow—told him enough.

The General took a step forward. The ground beneath him pulsed with violet light. A hum, deep and electric, rolled through the battlefield like an inhale before a storm. The air felt heavier.

And then he raised a hand.

The battlefield collapsed.

The ground fractured into shifting plates of stone and steel. Soldiers lost their footing, tumbling into the cracks as jagged spikes of energy tore through the field. The General hadn’t even _moved_—just lifted his hand, just willed the battlefield to reshape itself.

“Hold the line!” His voice rang through the chaos.

Neon surged forward.

Neon moved like a shadow through the fray, cutting through enemy soldiers with precise, unrelenting strikes. His blade found openings before his mind even fully processed them, years of instinct and training guiding his every movement.

Beside him, Max fought with brutal efficiency, his hammer crushing enemies with devastating force. Anne was a ghost, slipping between foes, blades flashing in the dim light.

Neon´s blade clashed against an incoming soldier, slicing through the armor with ease. His body moved before his mind could think—dodge, strike, pivot—his instincts guiding him through the chaos. Max was a force of nature beside him, hammer crashing into the ground, sending enemy troops flying like ragdolls. Anne was precise, slipping between attacks, blades carving a path through the enemy lines.

And still, the General remained untouched.

A towering figure cloaked in flowing cloak, untouched by the carnage around him. He barely moved, only lifting a single hand.

He watched them, impassive, waiting. As if he knew something they didn’t.

Then the sky split open.

A shape blurred through the air, fast and sharp as a falling blade. She landed beside the General in a controlled descent, long hair flowing like silk in the artificial wind.

Sakura.

Neon felt the world tilt.

It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

And if she was—

His heart slammed against his ribs.

His vision went red. He pushed forward without thinking, sword raised, voice breaking through the battlefield’s noise.

"Sakura!"

She turned to him, expression unreadable.

Neon's chest burned. His hands trembled at his sides, not from exhaustion, but from something deeper, something raw. "Where is she?" His voice cracked, fractured under the weight of his own fear. "Where is Aria?"

Silence.

Sakura held his gaze but didn’t speak.

That silence killed him.

"Tell me what you did to her!" His voice rose, a mixture of desperation and fury. "Tell me what the hell you did, because I swear—if you hurt her—you´re the cause of all our problems!"Sakura finally met his gaze. There was something almost... hollow in her eyes. As if she already knew what he was going to say, as if she had made peace with it.

She blinked once. Slowly. And then she exhaled.

"I know."

The words hit him like a blade to the gut.

And then she turned away.

They moved. Energy surged, folding reality in on itself. A rift began to form behind them, edges flickering like static on a broken screen. A portal.

Neon lunged without thinking.

Max was a step behind him. Anne, too. The Nyxian soldiers didn’t hesitate—none of them did. They couldn’t.

They crossed the threshold just as the world shattered around them.

And when Neon landed—

Everything was different.

He staggered forward, blinking hard, adjusting to the sudden shift. His breath came sharp, uneven. The ground beneath him felt solid yet foreign, smooth like polished stone but humming with something alive. The air smelled of metal, but it carried a strange crispness, a sharpness that wasn't entirely synthetic.

And the sky—

Neon looked up and felt his breath stop.

It wasn’t Nyxia’s dark expanse, wasn’t Militia’s haze. It was a swirling canvas of deep blues and reds, shifting like liquid, constellations burning in unfamiliar patterns. Light pulsed in the distance, casting long shadows against the cityscape—if it could even be called that.

Towering structures stretched toward the sky, sleek and metallic, yet intertwined with something organic. Vines of light curled around steel pillars, and the buildings breathed, shifting as if they were alive.

Half-Nyxian. Half-Militian. Neither of them, yet both at the same time.

A world caught between two opposing forces.

A world that shouldn’t exist.

Neon’s pulse pounded in his ears.

Max let out a slow, disbelieving breath. "What the hell is this place?"

Max and Anne looked around, their expressions mirroring his confusion. The remaining soldiers shifted uneasily, hands tightening on their weapons.

Anne turned in a slow circle, taking in their surroundings. "It’s…" She hesitated. "I don´t know."Neon swallowed hard.

Somehow, he knew what this place was. It made sense.

Origin.

The place where it all began. The forgotten cradle of both civilizations. And the place where it was all going to end.

Neon tightened his grip on his sword. His voice came low, steady.

"I don’t care where we are." His eyes locked onto them, unyielding. "I’m getting her back."

And then the sky roared above them, echoing quietly in their ears.

This would be the final battle.