Chapter II: Premonition

As dusk veiled the Earth below, the sprawling form of the NIX Space Station hovered silently in orbit, its structure casting long shadows across the ocean’s surface. From space, city lights glimmered like constellations stitched into the dark fabric of the world. Outside the station, suspended in the void, an astronaut worked meticulously—his silhouette barely visible against the planet’s dimming glow.

Clad in a reinforced suit, the man adjusted a malfunctioning engine unit with a multi-purpose tool, its magnetic tips shifting to match the complexity of each component. Crackling static punctuated his voice as he radioed in:

“Control, what’s the status of the Cosmos Flux Regulator? Over.”

The line hissed with interference before Control’s response filtered through:

“Negative. The Regulator remains non-operational. Cosmos energy output remains unstable. Attempt to repair the K⁹ Core, Dr. Neumann. Over.”

Behind the tinted visor, Dr. Victor Magnus Neumann furrowed his brow. I think I know how to fix this. He retrieved a standard K⁹ Core—a compact, dodecahedron-shaped component—and tossed it into space, letting it drift weightlessly. Then, from a secured compartment on his belt, he withdrew a makeshift prototype. Precision-forged. Untested.

He inserted it into the module with a quiet click.

“Try it again. Over.”

Seconds passed. Then the station pulsed with a low hum—the unmistakable signature of Cosmos resonance stabilising.

“Dr. Neumann, confirmation received. The Ambience Flux Regulator is now online. Collection phase for Project Event Horizon can begin. Excellent work.”

But Victor didn’t respond. Instead, he drifted silently, letting the quiet envelop him. The infinite hush of space was his sanctuary—a refuge from the chaos below. He relished the isolation, the stillness. In that moment, he wasn't a cog in NIX’s vast machine. He was simply a man at peace, adrift among stars.

Guided by his magnetic tethers, Dr. Neumann navigated back to the re-entry hatch. Once inside, the compartment hissed through decompression. He peeled off the suit, careful with each movement, then stored it in its designated rack. From there, he made his way through the dim-lit corridor to the changing facilities.

Inside the men’s locker room, he opened a labelled compartment:

NEUMANN, V.M.

He slipped into a fitted white turtleneck and a dark green NIX engineer’s jumpsuit. Using a narrow black comb, he swept his short black hair to the right. He examined himself in the mirror—expression unreadable, eyes tired but alert. Satisfied, he shut the locker and stepped out.

The corridor outside offered a panoramic view of space. He paused briefly, gazing into the dark, before a voice called out behind him.

“Dr. Neumann! Parcel delivery.”

A NIX courier jogged up, handing him a large, sealed package.

“And congrats on fixing the Flux Regulator! Now we can really fight those Voids, huh?”

Without waiting for a reply, the courier rushed off.

Victor continued toward the Level 1 Laboratory, the beating heart of the station’s research division. The Cosmos Flux Regulator stood like a monolith, surrounded by swirling energy rings that radiated a faint bluish hue. Teams of scientists moved with purpose, analysing output data and ensuring the energy's containment.

Neumann avoided drawing attention. He crossed the room swiftly and entered the elevator, pressing the button for Level 3. The lift ascended in silence.

Level 3 housed restricted-access laboratories—rooms reserved only for senior researchers. Swiping his keycard, Victor entered a soundproof chamber lined with cushions on the walls, ceiling, and floor. The room was engineered for sensory equilibrium.

Gears shifted silently beneath the surface—mechanical patterns rearranging in slow, deliberate choreography.

At the centre sat a young woman, cross-legged, playing a lyre. She was in her mid-twenties, her long black hair slightly unkempt, cascading past her elfin ears. Her eyes remained closed as her fingers plucked an ethereal melody.

She stopped upon sensing someone’s presence.

“Good evening, Pandora. I have a gift for you.”

Victor stepped forward, eyes bright with boyish excitement, holding out the parcel.

Pandora tilted her head and raised her hands, signing:

“Is that for me? What is it, Victor?”

“Shhh. It’s a surprise,” he grinned, miming a zipped lip.

Pandora smiled as she opened the package. Inside lay a violin—sleek, with a dark mahogany finish and reinforced neck suited for zero-gravity environments.

Her fingers traced the strings. She retrieved the bow and positioned the instrument beneath her chin.

Without a word, she began to play Moonlight Sonata by Mozart.

The sound filled the chamber—haunting, serene.

Victor leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. The dissonance of the world faded.

In that moment, there was no NIX. No Voids. No war.
Only music. And silence.

***

Felix clutched the official NIX Corporation document tightly—a letter of recommendation for newly graduated Stargazers. The role was prestigious yet perilous. With over a million practitioners across New York alone, Stargazers were humanity’s last line against Voids—alien threats that defied physics and preyed on consciousness itself.

NIX Corporation, a vast multinational behemoth, had grown into a ubiquitous force since the 2170s—dominating industries from pharmaceuticals and industrial machines to tourism and transportation. Yet, beneath the glossy PR campaigns, whispers persisted. Some claimed NIX wasn’t just a corporation—it was a cover for something darker. Something inhuman.

Felix stared down at the document, reddish brown eyes scanning every word as he made his way from the Bureau Sector toward the elevator. His mind was a whirlwind—equal parts relief and dread. This could change everything… or ruin it.

Then—impact.

A hard shoulder checked his ribs, launching him sideways into the corridor wall. The document slipped from his hands, skidding across the polished floor until it landed beneath a man’s boot.

“Oi! Watch where you're going!” Felix snapped, pushing off the wall and glaring at the offender.

The man was statuesque—tall and broad, his unruly golden waves framing sharp, chiselled features. Amber gold eyes met Felix’s with cool disinterest. He made no move to apologise. Instead, he stepped on the paper, crushing it beneath his boot, then casually walked away.

Felix retrieved the now-creased document with a sigh, muttering, “Nincompoop. That guy definitely did that on purpose… Doesn’t even know how long I waited for this damn thing.”

He entered the elevator, clutching the crumpled paper. Sadness tugged at his features—this paper wasn’t just for him. It was for someone else. Someone important.

The elevator abruptly jolted to a stop.

A blackout. One of many in recent months. NIX Corporation had been “working on it” for nearly eight. Felix remained calm. Ten minutes, max, he estimated.

Then a quiet shuffle caught his ear. He turned and flinched—like a startled cat—when he realised he wasn’t alone.

Evangeline Weiss was standing beside him, headphones around her neck, silent as a shadow.

Gahhh! Evangeline Weiss?! When did she—how did I not see her? Felix panicked internally. She’s… terrifying. Just like the rumours said. Felix, you nincompoop!

He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there.” He shuffled sideways, giving her space.

He risked a glance. She had a striking, almost ethereal beauty—an oriental elegance tinged with melancholy.

She looks… really sad, Felix thought. Her dark eyes locked with his, issuing a quiet warning. He looked away instantly.

Her voice, barely a whisper, broke the silence.

“Why are you here?”

Felix blinked. “Huh?”

“Why are you at NIX Polytechnic? What’s your reason?”

“Oh. Uh…” he hesitated. Should I tell her? No one ever believes me. Except Bartholomew...

He exhaled. “I’m looking for someone. Her name’s Starling. Ever heard of her?”

There was the briefest flicker in Evangeline’s expression. A crack in the porcelain.

“I haven’t heard that name…” she paused.
“For a very long time.”

Felix noticed her hesitance. She knows something, he realised. But the heavy atmosphere returned just as quickly.

They stood in silence again—until Evangeline pointed at the document in his hand.

“What happened to the paper?”

Felix sighed. “Some guy stomped on it.”

She reached out, her fingers hovering just above the page. In an instant, the creases vanished, the smudges erased. The paper looked brand new.

Felix’s jaw dropped. “Whoa! Evangeline! How did you do that? You’re not listed as a Quasar in your profile…”

She smiled faintly. “I’m not. But it’s something I can do.”

She looked at him again, her voice softer now.

“You looked sad. You wanted to give that to someone important. So… why not make them happy?”

Then, just like that, she returned to her distant self.

The elevator jolted back to life.

“Make someone happy, huh…” Felix murmured. A playful grin slowly formed.

“OK THEN! LET’S MAKE YOU HAPPY!”

He seized Evangeline’s hand as the elevator doors opened and led her out, a whirlwind of motion and enthusiasm.

“My name’s Felix—just Felix.”

Her expression softened, and for the first time, she smiled—a small, genuine one.

“Call me Eva. Just Eva.”

Felix burst out laughing. Passersby gawked, astonished at the surreal sight: Evangeline Weiss smiling, subtlely.

***

At the Polytechnic cafeteria, Eva reached for another slice of pizza, while Felix demolished his fourth box.

Tetsuo sat beside them, his face contorted in helpless despair. “Felix, you’re abusing my kindness…”

“What? You’ve been feeding me free pizza for three years!” Felix countered.

“That’s not what I mean! You took Eva on a date! She’s like a little sister to me!”

Felix blinked. “Wait, what? Eva’s your sister?”

Eva shrugged. “Not by blood. We grew up together under temporary guardians. Since birth.”

Felix frowned. “That’s… unusual.”

“It is,” Eva replied flatly. “Our guardians are deadbeats. Even after I graduated, they steal my income. I have to work constantly just to eat. I can’t even enjoy my favourite desserts anymore…”

“At least you still have pizza,” Tetsuo muttered.

Blank stares.

Felix deadpanned, “You’re trying to ask Lucy out, aren’t you?”

“Don’t say that aloud! She might—”

“She’s behind you.”

Tetsuo turned, slow as molasses.

There she was.

Lucy, seated at the next table, wearing her NIX security uniform. Short blonde hair slicked back, chin resting on her hand, icy blue eyes watching them with a half-smirk.

“Eeeeeeeeeep.”

Tetsuo immediately ducked behind Eva, trembling.

“Hello, Lucy,” Eva greeted casually. “Want to join us? We have pizza.”

“Ehhh, I ate the last box,” Felix mumbled.

“I’ll get more!” Tetsuo vanished.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Why not.”

She slid into a seat. Moments later, Tetsuo returned—five pizza boxes in hand.

“Honestly, I’ve never eaten pizza before,” Lucy admitted.

“W-what?! Pizza’s cheaper and better than burgers!” Tetsuo cried.

“And yet you love both,” Felix added.

Eva nodded. “He also likes sushi, fried chicken, BBQ steak, seafood—minus shrimp and lobster. His appetite’s borderline mythological.”

“Tetsuo, you’re a glutton,” Felix teased.

“Please don’t tell my crush—” Tetsuo pleaded before Lucy snatched his pizza and devoured it effortlessly.

“Pizza is delicious,” she admitted shyly.

Tetsuo’s eyes sparkled. He shoved Felix’s box toward her.

“Have mine too!”

“Oi! Get her a fresh one!” Felix protested.

“They’re sold out!”

“You’re just trying to impress her!”

“Felix,” Tetsuo said gravely, “no more free pizzas for you.”

“NOOOO! I’M SORRY! I TAKE IT ALL BACK!” Felix sobbed dramatically, clinging to him.

“None taken,” Lucy said, munching on another slice.

“It’s fine,” Tetsuo added. “You’ll always have pizza.”

“Aw, you’re the best!” Felix beamed.

He turned to Eva’s box. “Any left?”

“Empty,” Eva replied, sipping fruit punch.

“That was your third box!” Felix cried.

They all burst into laughter.

Then Felix perked up. “Oh! I forgot—Sasha Everhart is arriving tomorrow with her mother to begin the semester!”

The mood shifted.

Lucy’s face drained of colour. Eva and Tetsuo both noticed.

“Lucy? You alright? Was the pizza bad?” Tetsuo asked.

Before she could reply, a team of NIX officers approached.

Everyone stood—except Lucy.

Felix’s eyes narrowed. The man leading them was all too familiar.

“You again. What’s this about?” Felix demanded.

The man’s cold voice replied:

“Felix, you are hereby expelled from NIX Polytechnic and placed under arrest for conspiracy against NIX Corporation and collusion with the Paradox Movement.”

One of the officers fired a stun round. Felix collapsed before he could react.

They carried him away.

“Sievernich!” Tetsuo shouted. “You’re making a mistake! Felix hasn’t done anything wrong!”

Sievernich remained expressionless. “NIX Corporation doesn’t make mistakes.”

He showed them footage—Felix handing over a strange object, and receiving a large envelope of cash in return. The man he met was unrecognisable.

The screen went black.

Silence.

Sievernich turned and left.

Tetsuo and Eva exchanged stunned glances.

Then they looked around.

Lucy was gone.

***

The hum of electronics, the soft clatter of controllers, and the flicker of pixelated explosions filled the lounge chamber aboard the NIX Space Station. Morning light from the Earth below bathed the room in gentle blues and golds, but inside, three grown men were completely absorbed in the digital carnage of Galactic Evil VIII—a multiplayer game that had become their sacred morning ritual before the chaos of shift work began.

“Victor,” came a voice mid-match, “why don’t you just confess your love to Pandora?”

The question sliced through the rhythm of button presses and digital explosions. Dr. Victor Neumann stiffened. His grip on the controller faltered.

“...Victor?” his friend Newt prodded again.
“Is it because she’s not human?” added Gunther, not one for subtlety. “Is that what’s stopping you?”

The words snapped Victor back to the present.

“No! That’s not it!” he protested, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. “I don’t care if she’s human—or even if she were a Void! That’s not why I haven’t said anything.”

“Then answer the damn question,” Gunther shot back, eyes never leaving the screen.

Victor sighed, his voice dropping.

“It’s just... I don’t know how she feels about me. I’m afraid I’ll ruin what we already have.”

The others didn’t look up, but their avatars slowed slightly—just enough to listen.

“Victor, you visit her during every break. You’ve given her more gifts than I’ve given my mother in a decade,” Gunther groaned. “And we know you pick them out yourself, which is even more tragic.”

“I had high hopes for you, man. Turns out you’re just a dumpling,” Newt teased.

“Now you’re comparing me to my favourite food?” Victor muttered, half-smiling.

“Of course we are. It’s called poetic justice,” Newt grinned.

“Try eating some braveberries,” Gunther added dryly. “Might help you grow a spine.”

Victor chuckled but dropped his gaze.

“You guys are right. I’m pathetic. I’ll never be able to confess to her…”

A hush settled. Jokes gave way to something heavier.

“Victor,” Newt said softly, “you know she doesn’t have much time left. With the way those researchers experiment on her, who knows? A few years, maybe less…”

“She’s fighting every day. You’re her light. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s the two of you—while you still can.”

Victor drew a long breath. His chest tightened with emotion, but also resolve.

“Okay… okay. I’ll do it. Whatever happens, whatever NIX does—I’ll face it.”

Gunther and Newt clapped him on the back.

“There’s our boy,” Gunther grinned.

Victor’s avatar surged across the screen, crushing enemies with relentless precision.

“Now suffer, both of you! This is revenge for mocking my love of dumplings!”

“NOOO!” Newt howled as his character exploded.

“YOU’RE CHEATING!” Gunther shouted as Victor’s kill streak racked up.

Laughter erupted in the room, the three of them momentarily freed from the weight of their world. For a while, it was just joy—brothers-in-arms fighting pixels, not policies.

But joy never lingered long aboard the NIX Space Station.

Without warning, the floor trembled. The console screens flickered. A low rumble vibrated through the walls.

The three men froze.

“Victor… we just had a massive quake down here on Nexuscape,” Newt whispered. His voice trembled.

Victor's blood ran cold.

“I felt it up here too,” he replied, his voice low. “But... how? We’re in orbit. What could possibly—”

A second tremor hit. Violent. Unnatural. Not seismic—but dimensional. The very air twisted around them.

The walls shimmered. The artificial gravity flickered.

A deep red glow seeped into the edges of the room, as though the station itself was bleeding light. Sirens screamed overhead, shrill and urgent, the message repeated on loop.

“WARNING! WARNING! VOID INCURSION IS COMMENCING.”