Wise’s face shuttered like a storm-darkened window. The foolish grin that had flickered across his lips moments before vanished in an instant, replaced by a stern look.

  Clearly, he did not appreciate the interruption. He stared at the screen for a few moments, then turned towards Nana. The voice he heard previously was undoubtedly hers.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his voice flat and unamused. Needless to say, the situation was not unfolding as he had hoped.

  "Now, now—no need for hostility. First, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sky Crowe. I've been dead for quite some time now, and I was embedded within the Stone a.k.a. CM34 you used to create #938.” The android spoke shamelessly.

  Wise stiffened. His fingers twitched toward the edge.

  The final switch was just a few inches away; he considered pressing it for a moment but decided not to. Losing Nana was already bad enough, she was not just an assistant but also a crucial backup for him, in case things went wrong. Without her the whole process would fall apart. He had no choice other than to engage in the conversation.

  ‘Embedded?’

  "Wh—"

  "Before you interject, let me finish." The voice carried an unusual urgency. "I was the one who stole the Acosmic Nirvana Voidwright Stone. Before I could escape properly, multiple forces from across the universe intercepted me, and I had to flee at random. I died in the process, but I managed to embed some of my consciousness inside the Voidwright Stone. The Voidwright Stone is precious beyond measure, only one exists in the entire universe. No exceptions."

  Sky paused, as if for emphasis. "Yes, except for the one you possess, none exist. And yes, extraterrestrial life exists. I hailed from one such world, and—"

  “What does any of this have to do with me?” Wise cut in, his patience thinning. “And how did you bypass all the human and machine security protocols? How are you operational inside #938?”

  "Right, right—I was just getting to that. You see, throughout the universe, different types of powers exist. Beings can evolve, gain extraordinary abilities—you understand, yes? I utilized those very powers to circumvent everything you humans have devised. For someone like me, it’s not that hard to bypass your security measures."

  Sky's tone shifted, becoming almost reverent. "But still, no one had been able to harness the Voidwright Stone. They knew it was precious but not how to use it. But you did, without even being an Evolved, in merely ten years. You're a genius, Mr. Wise."

  Wise remained silent.

  "I know what you desire," Sky continued. "I saw it in your memoirs. You want the power to transcend human limitations. But using the Voidwright Stone merely to reverse time? That's wasteful. Instead of that, why not change the entire world? By watching you create #938, I've acquired substantial knowledge. I can help you construct a new artifact, one that will trigger an evolution cataclysm throughout your galaxy. Your entire galaxy will become Evolved."

  Her voice grew more animated. "Imagine it: a world where the strong can split mountains and seas with a flick of their fingers. A world where a single human can annihilate an entire planet. A world where nothing is impossible. A world where true immortality is attainable.”

  “For what you've created, it is indeed possible." She raved incessantly before finally coming to a pause.

  Wise had to admit the proposition was tempting, but he was no fool to accept everything this spectral intelligence claimed. “You read my diary?”

  "Ah… was that too egregious a breach of your privacy?" Sky asked, almost sheepishly.

  “I also looked into your android memories… Do you want head pats?” She opened her arms, offering a hug with a big smile on her face.

  “Ahem, I don't believe you're offering charity here. So, what's in it for you?" Wise quickly asked, his eyes narrowed, easily deflecting her futile attempt to embarrass him.

  She raised an index finger directly in front of his face. The cold finger touched his glabella.

  “You're capable of creating the device yourself; I'm merely providing the schematic so you don't squander the Voidwright Stone a second time only to reach the same conclusion. Even reversing time by half a century would consume nearly half the Stone's mass. Evolution requires three-quarters, yes, but the qualitative transformation—the threshold—demands precise expenditure.”

  Her voice took on a wistful quality.

  “As a fellow researcher, I wish to witness it. To experience the Voidwright Stone’s grandeur vicariously. Though I'm merely a will with no life—and cannot be resurrected since my soul has been completely eradicated—I can still accomplish something. I want to help you. That's all I desire. Now please, can we proceed with the construction? I'm growing impatient just thinking about it."

  'A will belonging to a thief who stole one of the universe's most precious treasures just wants to help me? Yeah, tough luck,’ Wise thought, but he kept his skepticism unvoiced.

  Even if this was some elaborate cosmic conspiracy, he was going to do it regardless. He wanted to do it, so he would—simple as that. It wasn't as though he'd never gambled with his life before.

  “Alri— Wait… did you… use some sort of mystical power to search through my memories?”

  “Huh?”

  “I remember having a weird dream this morning. It— it was you! You were the one peeking into my memories, weren’t you?!”

  “What? What are you talking about—”

  Suddenly, he felt his head throbbing. He grabbed his head reflexively but strangely it felt wet. He looked at his hand and an eyeball popped out and fell into his palm.

  “What?”

  Fear gripped his heart. His other eye widened in shock; he could feel the goosebumps all over his body.

  Trembling, he used his other hand to check his head. It was gone. Half of it was gone.

  Haah. Haah.

  His chest heaved with heavy breaths.

  Plop.

  His body perspired uncontrollably as he looked up—

  As he looked up—

  He was unable to do so.

  Why?

  Because the other half of his head was already on the ground.

  He was dead.

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  At that moment, slowly, his acephalous body moved. The left arm, even without the head, slowly rose up and struck.

  Whoosh

  Crack

  Krrrrrrrrrrr—

  Vwoop

  Year 2099, December 24th

  “Gah” Hah… hah…

  Wise woke up gasping for air, one hand gripping his chest. He looked at his surrounding; he was still inside his own laboratory.

  It was a nightmare but…

  “What the fuck kind of nightmare was that?!”

  He calmed himself down, then picked up his glasses and called one of his bots.

  A small food bot arrived with some food and water. After drinking some water, he grabbed a few snacks and slumped on the sofa.

  It was really a shame that sky took over Nana otherwise he wouldn’t need to do all that. She would take care of everything. Though he could’ve made another, he and Sky both had their hands full with the work related to #939, and none of them wanted to work on anything other than #939.

  ‘It’s no use thinking about it now, everything is already complete,’ he thought, looking at the calendar in front of him.

  So much time had passed.

  So much had happened during this period.

  And after so many ups and downs, he’d finally completed #939.

  He’d also interrogated Sky extensively about the Evolved.

  Apparently, there had never been a documented case of a galaxy or region of space being artificially Evolved. Evolution always occurred naturally.

  Whenever an evolution cataclysm manifested, the affected region of the universe became half-detached from standard spacetime and half-attached to the Extracosmos—or the Chaos Void, whatever terminology one preferred—the existence beyond the universe, if it could even be called existence.

  Everything there defied comprehension. No one in the entirety of the universe understood anything substantial about the Extracosmos. What was known, however, was that it contained immeasurable power and opportunities. The fact that a region of space could simply become Evolved after partial attachment, and the very existence of the Acosmic Nirvana Voidwright Stone, provided sufficient proof of its capabilities.

  Time had carved its signature into Wise’s frame. According to all medical projections, he should have been dead by now because of the reverse aging method’s flaw, but he still somehow continued pushing forward.

  Ironically, the only reason he could work on such an ambitious project was because he had employed the reverse aging method. Otherwise, he’d be a bedridden old man, barking orders at machines that would fumble through tasks for him.

  He could do that, yes, but the machines proved far less useful than anticipated for this particular project. He needed to perform most operations himself.

  Besides, thinking while lying in bed was nowhere near as efficient as thinking while sitting at a desk with pen and paper in hand.

  But all things considered, there was still a teensy bit of a problem. He needed to travel to Mars to activate it. Due to the destructive nature of the evolution cataclysm, there was a specific radius within which everything would be obliterated. Whoever stood just beyond that limit would receive the greatest benefit of evolution. Thus, they needed to deploy it somewhere where the destruction wouldn't impact them.

  That was the final phase.

  And Wise had to be the one doing it.

  Why Wise specifically?

  Because@ %^$^&$#*&@!......

  Krrrrrrrrrrr—

  Year 2099, December 25th

  “All systems nominal,” Sky reported. “Launch sequence initiated. Final countdown: T-minus 10 minutes.”

  "I'm ready. Initiate launch."

  The command left his lips with clinical calm. Within the hour, he'd be en route to Mars: six days of transit aboard a propulsion system of his own design. He had already decided to activate #939 precisely at the new year. Though it wouldn't hold much significance on Mars, he wanted to, regardless.

  Sky's voice guided him through the launch sequence, synthetic yet somehow reverent. The acceleration was anything but smooth. Nausea clawed up his esophagus. His skull felt like a bell struck with a sledgehammer. Every joint creaked, every vertebra ground against its neighbor. He blacked out intermittently, consciousness returning in strobe-light flashes of instrument panels and crimson warning glyphs. But he endured. The shuttle breached atmosphere; its trajectory locked on the ochre sphere hanging in the void.

  …

  Days passed in a haze of microgravity and microwaved protein paste. His muscles atrophied despite resistance bands, but his mind remained sharp. Soon, Mars filled the viewport. The landing was rough, but he made it.

  "Congratulations," Sky announced, the faintest crackle of static marring her voice. "You've reached Mars undetected. Some observatories registered your launch trajectory, but this sector is unmonitored. You may proceed."

  The surface of Mars stretched before him—crimson dust, fractured basalt, endless silence.

  The sky above was a pale orange, cloudless. Stars blazed bright.

  He remained in the lander, cycling through decontamination protocols before venturing into the pressurized equipment bay. Methodically, he transferred components into the deployment module—the section that would remain planetside after his departure. Ninety minutes of assembly in Mars's fractional gravity left him breathless, vision tunneling at the edges. But it was done.

  He tidied the area, ensuring a quick departure post-activation. A screen displayed the countdown:

  23:58:46

  He allowed himself a faint smile and waited.

  "Deployment complete," he radioed, his voice thin.

  "Activating at 00:00:00 UTC. Confirm status."

  "All metrics nominal. We're green across the board."

  "Understood." Wise exhaled, the sound hollow in his helmet. "Finally."

  23:59:32 — He removed his gloves and placed his hand on the Voidwright Stone.

  23:59:46 — He positioned his finger above the final activation switch.

  23:59:52 — His heart began pounding violently, for he knew this moment would mark an irrevocable change.

  23:59:55 — Everything became blank.

  23:59:56

  23:59:57

  23:59:58

  23:59:59

  00:00:00

  'Happy New Year.'

  He pressed the switch and quickly ran—

  ‘Huh?’

  He ran—

  But couldn't. His hand was stuck to the Voidwright Stone!

  “Sky, what is happening?!”

  “My hand's stuck to the Stone—I can't pull free!”

  “I- I can’t feel my fingers! Do something!” Wise yelled, his voice cracking with strain. He pulled with all his might, but it was useless.

  Sky’s voice was laced with panic. “What? How? This shouldn’t be possible! How could this happen…”

  “I don’t care how!” Wise roared, tugging again. His arm trembled, veins standing out like corded wires beneath skin slick with sweat and blood.

  A shrill, rising whine pierced the air.

  “Wait… what! The Stone is overloading! It’s drawing colossal power! It’s siphoning something from you!”

  “Wise, you have to break free, now!

  Do something, or getting consumed will be the least of your problems. It's going to detonate right in your face!”

  After a few moments of careful considerations and endless tugging, Wise realized there was only one option left. Sever the hand and run.

  The problem was the how. His breath came ragged as he darted his eyes across the chamber.

  There was nothing within reach to sever limbs with. That idiot (himself) had cleared the entire area for a faster escape. Even the voice-commanded robots were absent as #939 and the failsafe machines occupied most of the available space, and the other machines had already been disassembled for components.

  But something had to be done.

  His gaze landed on the #939's coupling cables. There were many thick, insulated wires beneath the Voidwright Stone spread all across the deck.

  With his free right hand, he grabbed one, looped it high around his captive wrist, and used his knee to cinch it tight, creating a crude tourniquet. He secured the end under his boot, pulling until the wire bit deep, numbing the limb. His right hand was now his only tool.

  Circulation cut; he grabbed the only tool within reach—a titanium alloy tactical pen from his pocket.

  He gritted his teeth and drove the point down with desperate force, aiming for the gap between the ulna and radius. First, he struck the gap, tearing the muscles and chipping the nearby bones. Blood welled and spilled tracing the length of the wires.

  Painful!

  There were no words to describe that pain other than getting brutally stabbed by a pen.

  Forcing himself to continue, he stabbed his ulna, hoping to break it in one go. But his bones were tougher than he thought.

  A crack echoed on the third attempt. He tightened the tourniquet further, the wire groaning under the strain. He stabbed again, this time at the second bone. Agony flared once, a white-hot brand against his sanity.

  Five strikes. Ten. Until a wet snap made him pause for a moment before continuing.

  Tears of pain blurred Wise’s vision as each stab of the pen became a punctuation mark in a sentence of survival. The bone gave way in calcified splinters, but the stubborn fascia and tendons refused to part.

  Wise worked with the methodical patience of a man defusing a bomb.

  He perforated his own wrist seventeen times, creating a perforated line of wounds that wept crimson onto the deck plates.

  The pain was a relentless tidal wave, but he endured it, tightening the tourniquet with each stab. Finally, he gripped the taut wire with his right hand, braced his feet, and pulled back his left hand.

  “Ahhhhh! Haaaaa!”

  A horrific tearing sound—chrrik—ripped through the chamber as his arm came away. But it wasn’t clean. Thin, elastic veins stretched like grotesque strings, still tethering him to the lifeless hand glued to the Stone.

  Pain! Pain! Pain!

  “Gaaaah…”

  Pure, unadulterated pain scrambled his thoughts but he had to finish it.

  He grabbed the pen again, hands trembling, and began puncturing the veins one by one. It was excruciating—aligning the pen's tip on each thin, taut strand while his body screamed for him to collapse. But he did it.

  Finally, the holes were punctured. Blood still seeped from the wounds, but less now. A small mercy.

  He pressed the pen's shaft against the device's surface, pinning the veins in place—pen on his side, holes in the middle, severed hand on the opposite end.

  Then he hurled the pen away in fury.

  ‘Idiot!’

  He pinched the veins between and index finger and thumb and yanked hard. They snapped like rotten threads.

  'Why the hell did I waste time with the pen?! I could've just torn them from the start. They were just veins, not bones or muscle.’

  But as they say, hindsight is a cruel mistress, especially in the heat of survival.

  The Voidwright Stone shrieked in front of him, building toward crescendo. Wise stumbled backward; his amputated left hand still fused to the Stone.

  Blood sheeted down his forearm as he lurched toward the emergency separation protocols, slamming the initiation button with his elbow. The door hissed shut as the engines roared to life. The main module, containing the overloaded Stone and his severed hand, detached, and the secondary one—the one Wise had just entered—shot away into the void.

  Dreadspire: The Weakest Druid

  Dreadspire was a single-player game designed to break the unbreakable.

  Eryndor Leafshade, he found himself trapped in the body of a druid, the weakest playable race in Dreadspire.

  Dreadspire proves that no one was ever meant to win.

  Only the strongest may ascend

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