The data vault stank of rust and stale air, the kind that clung to your lungs like damp cloth. Kael Vortex leaned against a cracked server rack, the quantum shard's faint hum buzzing in his satchel like a trapped insect. The cloaked figure outside the hatch loomed like a ghost in the rain-slicked Spire, its light bleeding through the seams, casting jagged shadows across the rusted walls. His mask's glyphs flickered, the blue light stuttering as if it, too, was exhausted. The Creators' last message—Prepare—gnawed at him, a splinter under his skin he couldn't dig out. He wiped sweat from his brow, the trench coat's frayed hem brushing the grimy floor, and cursed under his breath. This wasn't supposed to get this messy.
Jyx hunched over the terminal, her prosthetic arm clicking as she adjusted the quantum processor. Her silver hair was a tangled mess, streaked with soot from the Chrome Veil fight, and her green eyes squinted with a mix of fatigue and focus. "This rig's holding," she muttered, voice rough like she'd smoked too many synth-sticks. "But that signal's digging in deep. Feels like the shard's alive, Kael, and it's itching to answer them."
Lira sat cross-legged near the hatch, picking at a gash on her arm where a drone's pulse had grazed her. Her cybernetic eye glowed dimly, scanning the feeds, and she muttered something in Lowtown cant—"Zhin zhao, shǎ guā"—a curse about bad luck and fools. Blood crusted on her jaw, and her torn shawl hung off one shoulder, revealing aug-scars that told a story of Triad beatings she'd never shared. "Drones are thick out there," she said, spitting to the side. "Concord's got the Spire locked down. We're rats in a trap."
Toren Vex stood by the hatch, his cracked visor fogging with his breath. His cybernetic arm whirred, a low grind that set Kael's teeth on edge, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a habit from his Concord days. "I heard whispers in the barracks," he said, voice low and gravelly. "The Creators weren't just builders—they were tyrants. If they're back, they'll burn Nexus Prime to ash to rebuild their empire. We're sitting on a powder keg."
Kael's gut twisted. Tyrants or not, the Creators had power he could wield—or lose. He stepped to the terminal, the shard's weight pulling at him, and peered at the holo-map. The spiral sigil pulsed, a coiled threat, and the nodes flickered—trade routes, identity vaults, orbital cannons—all his if he could hold them. But the cloaked figure's presence outside felt like a blade at his throat. "Jyx, can we trace that signal?" he asked, his voice hoarse from shouting orders.
"Working on it," she snapped, her fingers clumsy on the holo-keyboard. "This junk's half-dead, and I'm running on fumes. Give me a sec, yeah?" She wiped her face with her sleeve, leaving a smear of grease, and Kael caught a glimpse of the strain in her eyes—years of hacking had left her with ghosts, maybe a family she'd lost to VynTek's purges.
The hatch rattled, a sharp bang that made Lira jump, her blade flashing out. Toren raised his rifle, the barrel steady despite the sweat beading on his brow. Kael's hand went to his pulse pistol, its grip worn smooth from use, and he edged toward the sound. The cloaked figure's light seeped through, brighter now, and a voice—deep, resonant, like gravel over steel—filtered in. "Kael Vortex. The shard calls us. Open the vault, or we breach it."
Kael's heart thudded, but he kept his face blank behind the mask. "Who are you?" he called, stalling for time. The figure's light pulsed, and the voice replied, "I am Kaelith, emissary of the Creators. The shard is our legacy. Align with us, and you live. Resist, and you die."
Align? Kael's mind raced. The Creators wanted a puppet, not a partner. He glanced at his team—Jyx's exhaustion, Lira's defiance, Toren's tension—and made a call. "Jyx, overload the node," he said. "Lira, rig the hatch with your charges. Toren, cover the breach. We're not bowing to anyone."
Jyx cursed under her breath but complied, rerouting power through the orbital cannon node. The holo-map flared, and a beam of light shot skyward, the vault shaking as the signal clashed with the Creators'. Lira planted her micro-charges, the beeps sharp in the silence, while Toren took position, his rifle trained on the hatch. The light outside intensified, and the vault's walls groaned, cracks spiderwebbing across the metal.
The charges detonated, a muffled boom that rocked the room, and the hatch flew open. Kaelith stepped in, a towering figure cloaked in shimmering threads of light, its face a mask of shifting sigils. Its presence was suffocating, a weight that pressed on Kael's chest, but he fired his pistol, the shot ricocheting off the cloak. Lira's blade slashed, Toren's rifle barked, and Jyx unleashed a hacking spike—all futile against the emissary's power.
Kaelith raised a hand, and the air thickened, pinning them. "Your defiance is noted," it said, its voice a rumble. "But the shard will return to us." The vault's ceiling cracked, and a vortex of light opened above, pulling at the shard. Kael clung to it, his fingers burning, and shouted, "Jyx, now!"
Jyx slammed the overload, and the node's power surged, the vortex collapsing with a scream of static. Kaelith staggered, its cloak fraying, and vanished in a burst of light. The vault stilled, but the shard's hum was weaker, its glow dimming. Kael slumped, panting, the taste of burnt metal on his tongue. They'd won a reprieve, but the Creators weren't gone.