"You want to do what?" Sšurtinaui asked, half-confused, half-amused.
Jack threw his arms wide. "You've never heard of Power Rangers?! Co on! I thought at least one of them would've made it to Requiem by now! Maybe you just didn't know what you were looking at—but either way, that's what I'm going for!"
She blinked slowly. "I have no idea how to help with that. I don't even understand the concept."
Jack sighed like a teacher dealing with the world's densest student. "Okay, okay, picture this: five people—sotis six or seven—each with their own color-coded armor, the, and weapon. They fight monsters, shout stuff like 'It's morphin' ti!', and then—boom!—transform with flashy lights and sound effects. They get special powers, pilot chs, and kick the bad guy's ass with a giant sword made out of friendship."
Sšurtinaui blinked again. "…Friendship."
"Hey! Don't mock it till you fight it," he added quickly, rembering that harem squad he took out.
She tilted her head, ignoring that outburst and getting back to the topic. "So… they use sothing like Ryun to create armor that manifests from willpower?"
"Uh… yeah!" Jack said, snapping his fingers. "Exactly that! Except instead of Ryun, it's—well, usually so kind of mystical energy, alien tech, or ti-traveling morph grid. Point is, I want that."
Sšurtinaui rubbed her temples. "So let summarize before I lose brain cells. You want to channel your Ryun through your Echo Authority and manifest armor that matches your power—activated by so kind of trigger phrase like these 'Power Rangers.'"
Jack grinned. "Now you're getting it! Think of it—Dinsional Echo Armor, glowing lights, energy plating, maybe a helt with a cool visor—tell that wouldn't be badass!"
Sšurtinaui sighed but couldn't hide a smirk. "Badass, yes. Practical? Debatable."
"Practical is for side characters," Jack said with a wink. "I'm the MC."
"Then as your ntor," she said dryly, "I guess it's my moral duty to make sure your transformation sequence doesn't kill you."
Jack pointed finger-guns at her. "See? You do get it."
She exhaled through her nose, already regretting agreeing to this training session. "Fine. Let's see if we can make your 'morphin' ti' work with Ryun physics."
They tried.
First attempt
Jack clapped his hands together. "Echo Armor: Red Nova Mode!"
A bright pulse erupted, but instead of armor, a glowing Ryun cube floated between them like a broken lantern.
Sšurtinaui squinted. "That's… not even remotely armor."
Jack frowned. "Abstract start. Gotta crawl before you morph."
Second attempt
He flared his aura, golden light swirling. It shaped itself into sothing helt-like—until it sprouted wings and scread. Loudly. Then exploded.
"That one scread," Sšurtinaui said flatly.
"Yeah, uh… morphing noise effect," Jack muttered.
Third attempt
He pulled in more Ryun, and for a brief second armor did form across his torso. Gleaming plates, sharp and perfect. Then it slid off his body like water and disintegrated.
"Okay," Sšurtinaui said, "now it's just evaporating."
"Why is this so complicated?!" Jack groaned, ruffling his hair.
Fourth attempt
He took a deep breath, steadied his stance, and called on both his natural Ryun and his Dinsional Echo Authority. The air shimred. The energy pulsed—alive, heavy, bending the space around them. She saw it: armor blooming across his limbs like mirrored light, fractal plates forming perfectly for one heartbeat—then shattering like glass.
Jack kicked the floor. "This made sense! Why isn't it working?!"
Sšurtinaui placed a hand on his shoulder. "Calm yourself. You're mixing instinct and imitation. You're forcing your power to mimic an idea rather than letting it manifest. Try separating them. Use Ryun first, naturally, then build your authority over it."
Jack frowned. "But my ability is Ryun-based. Why can I use Ryun separately if my ability is Ryun?"
Sšurtinaui hesitated, lowering her hand. "…"
"This sucks! It made sense! I know what I'm doing wrong but also not at all!"
She didn't answer.
In her mind, the truth ford. Because it isn't the sa. And if she was right—if what coursed through him wasn't this world's power at all—then he wasn't just manipulating Ryun. He was bending sothing older, sothing that wasn't supposed to exist here.
If that's true, she thought quietly, then no one on this ship will be able to stop him.
She forced a small smile. "Let's… take a break. You're improving. We'll try again soon."
Jack grinned, already hyped again. "Hell yeah, next ti I'm getting the full morph sequence!"
Sšurtinaui turned away, hiding the unease in her eyes. That's exactly what I'm afraid of.
———
Tinsurnae, Caroline, and kiea leaned against the rail of the balcony, scattering crumbs for the birds that nested along the ship's edge. The air was warm, filled with the flutter of wings and the soft hum of the engines. Caroline had started humming sothing upbeat and, before long, both she and Tinsurnae were belting out the chorus of I'll Make a Man Out of You—off-key, loud, and absolutely committed.
kiea tried to follow the rhythm, his normally calm voice wavering as he mixed up every other lyric.
"Did he just say 'swift as the coursing chicken'?" Tinsurnae asked, giggling.
Caroline nearly dropped her handful of feed. "River! It's river! Oh my god, you're butchering a classic!"
He smiled faintly. "I thought the point was to sing with passion, not accuracy."
Before Tinsurnae could respond, a voice echoed from the doorway.
"It's ti!"
They turned to see Bebele waddling into view, his ring of ears vibrating with unnecessary drama.
Caroline groaned. "And here cos the thumb of doom."
"Thumb of efficiency," Bebele corrected, crossing his stubby arms. "Unlike certain individuals who waste valuable mission prep singing archaic Earth hymns to flying vermin."
"They're called birds, genius!" Caroline shot back. "And at least I'm not shaped like a rejected teapot."
"I'll have you know I am perfectly proportioned for optimal sound resonance," Bebele replied indignantly, his ears fluttering like irritated fans. "And I was summoned for this form, not manufactured."
"Oh yeah? Summoned by who, a deaf potter?"
Tinsurnae sighed, rubbing her temples. "Magjesti…"
"Enough." kiea stepped forward, calm but firm, and gently placed his hand over Caroline's mouth. "You are about to start an interspecies incident."
Stolen story; please report.
Caroline's muffled words ca out sowhere between a growl and a snicker.
Bebele straightened proudly. "Thank you, kiea. Finally, soone with manners."
The red-haired man gave a soft smile.
Tinsurnae laughed under her breath. "Alright, you two," she said, tossing the last of the bird feed. "Let's go."
Caroline wriggled free of kiea's hand with a grin. "Dungeon ti!"
Bebele's ears twitched in exasperation.
They walked through the long central corridor, the hum of the ship growing louder the deeper they went. The hall curved gently with the ship's hull, lined with silver lights that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. The floor here was a mix of steel plating and soft blue panels that glowed faintly underfoot.
Occulted Moon mbers moved through the space in perfect sync—so carrying crates of equipnt, others checking rune-laced screens, their robes flowing in rhythmic unison. No one barked orders; they didn't need to. Every movent was purposeful, efficient. It looked less like military discipline and more like a practiced ritual—order disguised as grace.
Caroline glanced around, genuinely impressed. "Wow. I thought with this many people it'd be chaos. You've got, like, a hundred folks moving and no one's crashing into anyone."
kiea nodded, hands tucked behind his back. "Tabia runs a tight ship. Even when she's not here, her structure holds. She believes control breeds calm."
Bebele chid in without breaking stride. "Chaos in order is the best order to battle chaos. It's how Captain Ozzy prefers it—fluid coordination born from trust, not blind obedience."
Caroline blinked. "You're saying this is organized chaos?"
"Precisely," Bebele said, clearly pleased with himself. "Our goddess favors balance. Order without chaos stagnates; chaos without order destroys."
"Deep," Caroline muttered. "Still feels like a cult."
"Is a cult," Tinsurnae whispered with a small smile.
Bebele's ears twitched in irritation. "We are a highly functional organization of faith and logistics, thank you very much."
They reached the southside of the ship where the air grew warr, humming with machinery. The hallway opened into a vast hangar-like chamber, easily large enough to fit several smaller ships. The walls were lined with weapon racks, stacked supplies, and floating cargo crates drifting under low-gravity tethers.
At the center, a crowd had already gathered—rows of Occulted Moon soldiers standing in neat semicircles around a projection pad. Kiera stood at the front, wiping her hands on a rag, her yellow tank and purple tie looking wildly out of place among uniford robes. Sšurtinaui was beside her, calm and poised, while Jack leaned on the railing with an excited grin that could only an trouble.
"Looks like the party started without us," Caroline said, practically bouncing on her heels.
Tinsurnae placed a hand on her shoulder. "Relax. We'll get there in ti."
"I am relaxed!" Caroline grinned, voice way too high to sell it.
kiea smiled softly. "You're vibrating."
"Shut up."
Bebele cleared his ears, stepping forward as they joined the group. "Present and accounted for. Now let us comnce this briefing before excitent becos contagion."
Caroline leaned toward Tinsurnae. "He says that like it's a bad thing."
Tinsurnae smirked.
Kiera stood on the raised platform at the front of the hangar, her voice echoing clearly over the hum of engines and shifting armor plates.
"Alright, everyone—listen up!" she said, cupping her hands over her mouth. "This isn't your average expedition. We're entering a V-Dungeon. For the uneducated among you, that ans Virtual Dungeon. R-Dungeons—those are Real Dungeons. The difference?" She smirked. "One tries to kill you physically. The other does it virtually and physically."
A few scattered laughs rippled through the crowd, but one guy in the back yelled, "Holy Moons!"
"Settle down!" Kiera barked, and the noise died instantly.
She continued, gesturing to the massive screen behind her. A simulation flickered to life—half urban ruins, half overgrown garden, both twisting together into an impossible hybrid of city streets and mutated flora.
"F.Y.I this is a guess on the terrain once inside. This particular V-Dungeon," she said, "is a fusion of Call of Duty: Zombies and Plants vs. Zombies. Don't ask how or why—Requiem enjoys blending nightmares. We'll be guarding zones, clearing waves, and protecting energy points. Fail to hold your post, and we'll be overrun."
Murmurs broke out, excitent mixed with unease.
Kiera raised her voice again. "Every one of you has been handpicked for this raid. Positions will be determined by specialization. Look for your na, co grab your tag and attach it to your robe."
She pointed to the table beside her, where three neat piles of tallic tags glimred in the light—red, blue, and purple.
"Red is Offense—you're our vanguard, our blades, our burnouts. Blue is Support—healers, nders, and resource casters. Purple is Containnt—shield users, tacticians, anyone able to hold back the horde. Keep your colors visible at all tis. If soone goes down, know who you're running to."
The group lined up, one by one, to claim their tags. The clinking of tal echoed faintly through the hangar.
"The estimated runti is one week," Kiera went on, folding her arms. "But if we clear objectives quickly, the dungeon could collapse early. Don't let that fool you—it'll still feel like a week. Inside, ti bends, reality flickers, and fatigue compounds. Keep your head on straight and your Ryun steady."
Sšurtinaui nodded slightly from her position in the crowd. She and Kiera had gone over every contingency already, and seeing how effortlessly Kiera commanded the room impressed her. She retains information like she breathes, Sšurtinaui thought.
Jack was practically glowing, spinning his red tag on his finger. "Oh yeah," he whispered. "Now this—this is my arc."
Caroline could barely contain herself, bouncing on her heels as she fastened her own tag. "Zombies! Actual Zombies! Do you know how long I've been waiting for this quest to matter?"
Tinsurnae just shook her head. "You're way too excited about undeath."
"Don't ruin this for , Tinny."
Bebele, however, said nothing. His usually twitching ring of ears remained still as he clutched sothing in his pocket. His aura pulsed faintly.
Kiera clapped her hands. "Say your goodbyes and report to the southern bay. Launch in twenty minutes. Once we cross that threshold—there's no turning back until the mission's done."
The crowd erupted into motion, the sound of boots and robes filling the chamber as teams ford and last checks began.
Caroline grinned at her squad. "Well," she said, practically vibrating, "ti to get this quest complete! One zombie at a ti!"
Tinsurnae sighed. "Or die trying."
Jack smirked. "Maybe you'll die. But a few zombies shouldn't be a problem."
Bebele waddled through the crowd with his usual uneven gait, his ears twitching lightly as he approached Jack. "A mont of your ti, if you'd be so kind."
Jack grinned. "For you? Always, buddy ol' pal."
They stepped off to the side, disappearing between rows of stacked supply crates. Jack's voice carried faintly, but Bebele's tone stayed low, almost murmuring, their words swallowed by the hum of the hangar.
Across the bay, Caroline turned toward kiea. She hesitated for only a second before throwing her arms around him.
"You sure you're not coming?" she asked, her voice small.
He smiled, brushing a thumb along her cheek. "Soone needs to make sure the ship's still here when you get back. Besides, I wasn't picked."
"Right," she said, trying not to pout. "I get it."
He leaned closer. "It's only a week. I'm sure you'll be able to manage. I'll be the one bored while you fight the undead."
Caroline laughed softly, the sound dissolving into a kiss—quick but full of sothing genuine. A promise that neither of them said aloud.
Not far away, Tinsurnae stood with her arms folded, her expression unreadable. Sšurtinaui joined her, the faint shimr of Ryun still radiating around her fra.
"You alright?" Sšurtinaui asked, voice calm but warm.
Tinsurnae exhaled through her nose. "Yeah. Just that pit-in-the-stomach feeling again. Cos with the whole 'might die soon' package."
Sšurtinaui nodded. "Being the strongest has its own set of problems. But don't forget—we're here to support you."
Tinsurnae blinked, a little caught off guard. "That's… surprisingly kind of you."
"I've been a bit standoffish," Sšurtinaui admitted with a faint smile. "And we don't always see eye to eye. But regardless of our rough beginnings, I'm glad you joined the team."
For a second, Tinsurnae didn't respond. The words sat in her chest like a small, unexpected fla. Then she shook her head and smiled softly. "Thanks. That ans more than I expected."
They stood there in the low thrum of engines, quiet until Tinsurnae finally asked, "You good, though? You sound like you're bracing for sothing."
Sšurtinaui's eyes narrowed slightly. "I am fine. But… I'll admit, Jack's ability frightens ."
Tinsurnae's brow furrowed. "You still think he's dangerous?"
"I think," Sšurtinaui said carefully, "he doesn't know what he's capable of yet. And that makes him dangerous without aning to be. Keep an eye on him, please. I trust your instincts."
Tinsurnae nodded slowly. "He's not evil. Just… untested. Maybe leaving him here wasn't North's best move, though."
Sšurtinaui flexed her fingers. "Agreed. I don't think it'll co to it—but if sothing happens, promise you'll stop him."
"I should be able to," Tinsurnae said quietly, "Let's just hope it doesn't co down to that."
Sšurtinaui gave a small nod, eyes fixed on the massive hangar door now beginning to open. All that was left now was the next step.
———
The Whispering Tree lood over the dead. Its bark was the color of old ash, its surface cracked and seeping faint light from veins of black-green Ryun that pulsed with unnatural rhythm. The tree had no leaves—only twisted, gnarled branches that stretched in every direction like skeletal arms trying to grasp the sky.
Its roots weren't buried but sprawled outward across the ruined ground, thick as towers, alive with a slow, thrumming pulse. Each one quivered faintly, feeding energy into the soil and into the sea of figures surrounding it.
Millions and millions of zombies stood at attention in perfect silence. Their forms varied: rotted soldiers in rusted armor, shambling beasts with tal grafted into their spines, spectral corpses flickering between flesh and dust. Their eyes burned with that sa dull green Ryun light that leaked from the tree's core. They weren't growling or snarling. They were waiting.
Above them, nestled in the ancient branches, sat four beings—each shaped from the tree's own essence. Their bodies were semi-translucent, woven from bark, mist, and mory. Their faces were not distinct but constantly shifting—one mont resembling humans, the next morphing into alien visages that barely resembled anything that had lived.
They didn't speak so much as they thought in unison, their words vibrating in the air like ripples across a still pond.
[They are coming.]
The thought carried through the branches, echoing down to the roots and back.
[They seek the fruit. The knowledge. The power. The mories.]
[One among them must not touch the core.]
A low tremor ran through the tree's body, Ryun pulsing brighter for a mont, bathing the zombie horde in pale green light.
[The one who carries the reflection.]
[If they reach us, then they will rember the old war.]
The beings turned their faceless heads toward the dark horizon, where faint flickers of movent—ships, light, Ryun signatures—approached through the fog.
[Then we will prepare.]
The four extended their arms, and from the base of the tree, an ancient groan echoed as the first wave of the horde began to stir. Fingers twitched. Skulls turned.
The dead began to move.
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