The closer one goes to the center of the stars, the more influential the Lightsea—and other dimensions—become. That is common knowledge.


    What isn’t, however, is where the Lightsea’s entrance is. I believe it’s in the Great Cavity, hidden in its dark corridors. As do other Praetors. Nonetheless, we’ve failed every expedition. We haven’t come close, but it is believed that one succeeded.


    Legate Swane ventured into the Darkness beyond the Heart centuries ago. Second to solely the shadows hidden behind reality, she should have returned. Wounded, perhaps, but leaving no hints of her passing? No ruined Sectors? No supernova-level energy spikes? None of the Legates, Gravitors, or Endless sensed anything.


    She vanished into the Darkness, and such is the greatest humor of our Empire. We lost our strongest in a meaningless scuffle of politick.


    It is my opinion that no other expeditions should proceed without a Legate to guide them. All these do is drown our men. If a Praetor must lead, however…


    Allow me to enter the Darkness. No one else shall die in my stead.


    <ul>


    <li>


    The summary of Praetor Oswen’s report after the latest Roman expedition into the Great Cavity returned with him as its sole survivor.


    </li>


    </ul>


    A brawny bundle of scars and seeping flesh stumbled forward through a hallway of death. Heads, arms, legs, and every other part of a living being lay scattered across the concrete aisles of the underground floor. Despite that fact, Lucius Waters’ every step reverberated with the splattering of blood and the release of his life. Beside him, a scrawny young man aided him in his movement, though Archimedes’ feeble arms did little to help.


    “Mr. Waters? Are—are you sure you’re okay? You’ve... lost a lot of blood,” Archimedes spoke, his voice trembling with worry. The weight brought pain to his legs, but he didn’t complain.


    The Martian grunted, brushing off Isaac’s concern, “I’m fine. We just need to keep moving.”


    Then he stopped dead, whipping his head around despite his blood loss. The distant sound of gunfire echoed through the corridors, louder and sharper than before. He had felt the rumblings before when they were deeper, but those noises came from a deeper floor. These bullets, however, were different.


    Traditional weapons? Gunpowder. Yes, the scent is unmistakable. That means... it can’t be the guards. Someone’s here. But why? To break out a prisoner? Likely. Is that what this is all for? Who would release such monsters for a prison break?


    Lucius’ teeth ground against each other as his mind sprang to a sole answer. It was a group of cloak and dagger madmen he had been chasing for years.


    The Federation Of Flesh had arrived.


    They were in the area last he knew. Back then, he was caught slaughtering a Baron and his associates after he smelled the taint of the Lightsea on them and spotted a Dirge hidden among them. Lucius was sure that the old man he cut up was partnered with them, but the bastard just wouldn’t talk until he bled out from his peeled skin.


    Suddenly, his footsteps enjoyed more strength than they did a moment prior. The two hearts within the soldier’s chest beat with frenetic motion, delivering energy he had thought lost forever.


    They were here. His enemies.


    The man’s mouth watered for violence, and he strode out from Arch’s care. His back straightened as he pressed his bloodied and charred palm against the last steel door.


    “Stay here. Don’t come out until I say so,” Lucius’ words bore zero negotiation, with no room for error or judgment. API nodded his head with fright, placing his shoulder against the wall as his guardian burst through the entrance.


    Gunfire shook the air without the door’s noise suppression, and the boy flinched, huddling against the wall. Despite the weapon he’d made for Lucius, terror clutched at him, wrapping icy tendrils around his heart.


    He was still terrified. More than that. Archimedes knew what that gunfire meant. People were here. And no matter how illogical it sounded to him, his heart screamed that they were here for him. They wanted to take him. To use him. To force him to be their tool.


    The young man didn’t want to be used anymore. His thoughts were pure and opaque, despite the scattered blood on his cheek.


    I want to be happy.


    But the gunfire didn’t allow for his happiness. It only brought hysteria and anguish, and Archimedes knew that. He was well aware Lucius might not come back for him. Yet, the older man stepped out, anyway.


    The soldier didn’t slow for a second as he slithered from the reinforced door and behind some debris. His gaze crept out from the inside of the mangled tables and chairs with bodies squished inside. His keen eyes noted the familiar shapes, his memory flooding with details as he observed them from behind cover.


    The two hearts rumbled in sync while Lucius’ mind comprehended the situation.


    Four fighting a new Anarchy. One Weren. An... Araki? And a Harenlar? What kind of—human!?


    Lucius’ whole being shook with astonishment. It had been a century since he last saw one of these putrid beings. And... that was shortly after his hands returned to bloodshed.


    He didn’t blame the woman, but humans were ill omens for all. Destruction is all they wrought.


    The long weapon in his hands nearly revealed his position from his surprise as the human glanced over at him, reeking of the Lightsea in the Martian’s sharp nose. Nodding, Lucius glided to another hiding spot while his enemies stood distracted, like that of a ghost, as his feet were utterly noiseless.


    Lucius ducked back behind a pillar, cataloging their movements, creating a map of the battlefield from the sounds and sights around him. He envisioned it with his abundant experience, not missing an ounce of detail. Three of the Federation actively took part in the battle, the Araki and the human who fired their gunpowder without restraint.


    One thing remained peculiar to him, however.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The Harenlar was cradling a syringe in one hand and a stout pistol in the other, taking more care with each bullet while her secondary pair fiddled with some kind of device. Lucius’ brows narrowed, deducing the meaning. She had little ammo and wasn’t all that skilled with the weapon. Though he’d have to watch out for whatever the serum was.


    Finally, there was that last one. The petite Weren. She was the least threatening, only carrying the torch so the others could see in the dim light. Still, he felt a shiver at imagining her. She possessed a power, too. But she was hiding it.


    The torch must be a distraction.


    Lucius knew the human could acclimate to the darkness just as he could. The bastard only needed time—time Lucius would not provide.


    The battle continued, and the soldier simply listened, cautious not to reveal himself too early. Instead, he waited for the perfect moment to strike.


    But as the seconds passed, Lucius grew confused. The Anarchy was winning. Why? These were Federation agents, no? If they were here undercover to retrieve a target, then a single Anarchy should be easy pickings for all four.


    Yet it wasn’t.


    Were they recruits? Some kind of initiation mission?


    Nothing was adding up in Lucius’ mind. From the first floor, his heightened hearing brought much of the outside world to him, and he navigated the chaos with experience. This wasn’t his first time locked in an incomplete Domain.


    Anathemas were rare. Very. But with longevity like Lucius, they weren’t something he had never seen before.


    An Anathema is on-world. And these four don’t seem all too strong. The human is decent, but... he’s... unpracticed. I’ve never seen a Seafarer, Psion, Cultivator, or Windbreaker so... fucking pitiful. Definitely not the root cause. So... what then? Opportunists? Fuck… he’s human.


    Thoughts spun in the man’s mind, whirling despite his blood loss and high levels of adrenaline. He didn’t want to attack if he was wrong. While he was never against butchering criminals, something about this group was just off in his eyes.


    Unsure, Lucius decided to just wait and see how the fight would turn out.


    “Dammit, Dante!” the Weren’s exasperated voice cut off, as Lucius’ mind’s eye matched the names with the bodies.


    “Not now, Sonna! Toss the torch here! Rejo! Shoot its ankle!” Dante’s command was swift, possessing the qualities of a leader. Instantly, Lucius found the one to be most wary of.


    The Araki swiftly followed orders, a disciplined man in Lucius’ mind, and blew out the Anarchy’s left ankle with a stream of shots from his lever action. The Dirge fell to the rubble with a roar, its bear-like form stumbling with only three functioning legs.


    As it did so, the human dashed forward, a revolver in one hand and the burning torch in the other. Lucius struggled to compute why this ‘Dante’ didn’t simply use his powers, either his Stigmata or his Tide.


    People faced disadvantage in others’ domains, even if incomplete, but such techniques shouldn’t disable entire abilities.


    Dante ducked beneath the Anarchy’s swipe as the Harenlar shot above him, impacting the dense shadowy fur of the Anarchy. It hardly reacted to the bullet, but the slight distraction gave the human time to close the distance.


    Only a few feet from the bear-like monster, Dante leaped at the creature, not away. Blood streaked from several gashes, trailing after him, but with a quick scramble, the human landed atop the Anarchy.


    Lucius wanted to scoff, finding the move of sheer idiocy as a surefire way to death, but he held his breath. This was a human—one of the scant few races in the galaxy that could even come close to keeping up with a Martian.


    They were lesser, of course, but the gap wasn’t as impassable as with any other race.


    It was hard for any to believe there used to be billions of these people, while at their greatest, there were not even a hundred thousand Martians.


    The torch in Dante’s hand burned higher up, nearly reaching his flesh, but he didn’t care. Dante slammed light-turned-weapons into the Anarchy’s bestial eye, flaring bright. With the pain, it roared in dying fury, attempting to stand on its hind legs. But it couldn’t rise high enough to throw the human off.


    An eye shined in the dark, understanding the many bullets put into the creature’s back leg even before Dante called out to Rejo.


    Smart. But you need more than wits to kill a Qualae. You need power. This Anarchy is big. A hundred bullets might be enough to destroy it.


    The innards of the prison rattled as all the remaining glass shattered, and the Anarchy flung its bulk toward a wall. As the creature neared the concrete, Dante leaped off without hesitation, crashing into the broken stones beneath him.


    With the painful landing, his shout cut through the echoing howls, “Joan! Now! The Juggler!”


    Lucius’ brow arched while the Harenlar injected the serum into her flesh with a giggle, “Just for you, Dante. These are mighty expensive. I could always use some more data, though!”


    Flesh rippled and grew in the flickering flames that spread across the Anarchy’s misshapen fur. The tall woman, a little under six feet, grew to match Lucius’ in height, only her vertical pairs of arms on each side fused to create monstrous limbs.


    Each must have held the weight of an entire person as liquid silver ran across the muscles and bone, bringing a vile distaste to Lucius’ mouth. The creature before him no longer even appeared to be female but closer to a Dirge than a sentient.


    What is that?


    A spike of bone birthed from the creature’s wrist as the disgusting and revolting arm ratcheted backward. Meanwhile, the Anarchy thrust itself away from the wall it slammed into, but it wasn’t fast enough.


    Air crackled as that arm whipped forward, delivering that yard-long spike of bone into the Infant’s chest. And then further.


    The projectile pierced through the entire creature, nailing it to the wall. Once stuck there, Dante strode forward one step at a time before fumbling for something in his belt. The smell of chemicals came to Lucius as he knew what the human was about to do.


    As he pounced ahead, Dante flung a flask of medicine-smelling acid onto the bestial creature’s head before releasing bullet after bullet into its skull. Just a few rounds later, the Anarchy deflated, and its corpse succumbed to the Lightsea.


    The four celebrated, though they were all fatigued. Blood dripped from the two men while the single monstrous woman rumbled incomprehensibly through her mass about the ‘Biotic Juggler’ lasting for an hour. The Weren stared at the dissipating corpse, silent to the joys of her allies.


    Unnoticed, Lucius’ teeth ground against each other as he knew something few did. Dirge never died. When killed... they just went back to the Lightsea to heal. Then... they would return, though they may have a different mind and personality, with fresh memories and a forgotten past. Nonetheless, they would be back. It may take years or decades, perhaps even centuries, but they would return.


    There were few ways to permanently kill a Dirge, and none of the people here knew of one.


    It was a never-ending invasion of his universe, something that the Romans, Glaniecians, and Ostaceans knew all too well but wouldn’t release to the public. Idiots like the Federation used these interdimensional creatures for their whims, ignorant of such a fact.


    Though, even if they knew, it likely wouldn’t matter.


    For now, the powerhouses of the Heart, whether Roman, Ostacean, or Glaniecian, kept most of the Lightsea in line. But some things slipped through, even to the outermost regions. It was always the case, whether it was criminals, corruption, or the greatest threat to life in all of history.


    But just as Lucius pulled his mind into focus, he recalled something. He concentrated too much on the idea that these four were Federation spies. Now, he’s sure they aren’t. They didn’t have any such technology as Joan.


    Still, that Anarchy they killed wasn’t either of the two he had previously accounted for. There was still one more.


    A pair of soft footsteps on torn concrete ripped Lucius’ eyes to the side as he stared at Archimedes, the young man leaving his hiding spot. Concern welled up alongside confusion because Lucius couldn’t comprehend why Isaac would reveal himself.


    Arch isn’t some dunce who would think everything was over when voices started. Voices. Voices.


    “Dante? Is that you?” Arch asked aloud, proving Lucius’ thought process correct. The Martian, in response, prepared to bolt from his stealth if the four showed even an ounce of hostility. His muscles vibrated with scarcely concealed strain, just awaiting the moment to strike.


    Fortunately for the four, the human beamed warmly with surprise, extending an open palm toward Arch after holstering his pistol, “No. Fucking. Way. API? How’d you get here?” he said, his voice tinged with surprise. “You’ve grown.”


    “Really? Oh... umm... I—” Isaac stammered with so much attention, unable to speak. Meanwhile, the familiarity, the warmth, twisted something in Lucius’ gut, and he almost felt his guard lower. But then he heard it—a faint, telltale scraping.


    He wasn’t the only one, too.


    Dante’s head flung around the multi-layered prison section, the rows of cells above with wretched bars and burning debris. Together, the two pairs of eyes swept the building as swiftly as they could.


    A shadow detached from the darkness, a claw speeding toward Archimedes.


    It grasped for the spine of the young boy. Lucius bolted, shattering concrete beneath him, but Dante was closer and nearly as fast, yanking Archimedes aside just in time.


    API didn’t even have the time to understand what was happening to him as arms wrapped around him and wrenched him to the side.


    A heartbeat later, warmth spread across Pythagoras’ spine, and he looked around, confused, only to find Dante standing behind him. A bony hand, clenched around a heart with one final pump in it, stared right back at Arch. Gore dripped in spades, almost mocking the human’s attempt at life.


    Archimedes shrieked in horror, “Dante!?” as he fell onto his ass and split open his hands, realizing that one of the few people he had ever met who didn’t hate him was damned because of him.


    The lithe Anarchy tossed the soon-to-be corpse to the side as another figure rose to meet it. At nearly seven feet tall, the dark-skinned Martian held his makeshift spear to the Anarchy’s throat.


    Both stood unmoving for several seconds, sizing up their opponents. Lucius realized this one was stronger than the others. It was different—smart, calculating. Its eyes glittered with a feral intelligence that spoke of something more sinister than the mindless rage of its kin. Was it an Anachronism? Lucius wasn’t sure. It might very well be.


    None would know unless it tossed out a Tide or a Stigmata.


    His hands tightened around his weapon as he pushed Archimedes back, “Away. Now.”


    The child crawled away, his unnaturally pale skin opposite to the blood on his hands and knees. Without ever looking away from his prey, Lucius smiled at it, ready to kill.


    But the instant before his taut muscles detonated with power, he heard bones crack and a gasp ring through the building. Slowly, his eyes slid to the human, the chest closed, and his heart replaced.


    Interesting. It must be his Stigmata. A healing type. I will have to ki—


    A claw stopped an inch from Lucius’ eye, his spear defending his life on pure reflex. Growling saliva dribbled from the Dirge’s lanky countenance as it lunged again, and Lucius’ balde was there like a mirror, deflecting the blow just a hair from his face.


    Lucius’ brows narrowed, as he knew this was dire. This fight would be a breeze if he were at his best. Now, with him not yet fully recovered, it was not so ironclad.


    Faster than me. Stronger, too. Top of the road for an Anarchy, I suppose. If I wasn’t so hurt... No time!


    The spear made of warped metal from the heat of a burning penitentiary flipped again to catch a warbling stinger as the monster went on the offense.


    It left not a moment of respite for Lucius.