Angar was diminished, but defiant. Battered, but unbroken. His body ached with every breath, his wounds seeping through makeshift bandages, but his eyes burned with a stubborn fire.

  He slumped against the wall, his hands trembling as he patched himself up again, spreading some goo over gashes, injecting painkillers, and wrapping torn flesh with blood-soaked cloth.

  His mind was a fog, a haze of pain and exhaustion, but Spirit's voice cut through it clear enough. "The core-drive is in emergency-power mode. Now we need to power it on fully, then shut it down completely. You’ll have to be quick and follow my instructions exactly. And urgently. You ready?”

  “I am,” he replied.

  Her translucent form ran to some machine. “Pull this lever right here.”

  Angar obeyed, limping around the core-drive as he followed all her commands, his injured leg slowing his movements.

  Then Spirit directed him to a flat, black thing. “Activate the console.” Its surface was slick with grime, but it alit with a touch.

  He tapped options mindlessly, following instructions he barely understood, his fingers fumbling over the glowing screen.

  Spirit moved away to a far part of the room. “Push this breaker up,” she demanded, pointing at something on the wall between two machines.

  Angar obeyed, each step causing pain, each movement a reminder of his broken ribs and throbbing hand.

  Then it was back to tapping options on the console.

  A loud thrumming pulsed through the room, a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in his bones. At the chamber's center, the massive sphere shifted, changing its eerie, pulsating light.

  The twirling thing in the sphere spun faster and faster, thrumming louder and louder, and with each twirl growing brighter and brighter, casting wild shadows across the walls.

  The light intensified, shifting from pale blue to a searing white. Angar's itching skin began to burn as if the air was on fire.

  The console erupted in warnings. Big, red letters flashing across the screen, screaming of overloads and critical failures. The thrumming grew louder, its rhythm faltering, turning sickly and desperate.

  Angar's stomach churned, and he doubled over, emptying its contents onto the floor in a splatter of bile and blood. Once emptied, he dry-heaved, his body convulsing, his vision swimming with black spots.

  The sphere began to clank with each rotation, a jarring, metallic sound that echoed through the chamber. The machinery shuddered, the ground beneath Angar vibrating so violently he felt his teeth rattle, his brain shaking against the inside of his skull.

  Then, for a brief moment, the room was bathed in a blinding light, and all the machinery everywhere seemed to scream out in a high-pitched, terrified wail.

  "Shut it down!" Spirit screamed, her voice filled with urgency.

  Angar staggered to a lever she pointed at, its rusted surface cold under his bloodied hands. He yanked with all his strength, his shoulder screaming in protest. The lever resisted, stuck fast, but he threw his weight against it. It finally budged, then shot forward with a clang, moving on its own.

  The sphere shuddered, and its glow dimmed. The twirling thing slowed, still clanking with every spin, and the world stopped trembling. The sphere began to whine, making a sound like a dying beast.

  "Next lever!" Spirit screamed, her voice coming from the far wall. She was wedged between two machines, pointing at a handle.

  Angar rushed over as best he could. He gripped the handle and yanked it downward. It fought him, resisting every inch, his arm straining with effort. He pulled until it snapped into place with a thud.

  Whatever it shut off, he couldn’t tell. The sphere still whined, the twirly thing still clanked with each slow spin.

  Spirit's voice was still urgent, but less so. "Now to the upper-deck core-drive section. Quickly!"

  Angar limped to the lift. As it rose, he leaned against the wall near his maul for a moment, taking a quick respite, then he shouldered his pack of medical supplies before grabbing his weapon’s haft.

  His skin was still on fire, and the nausea was making it extremely hard to think, but he knew his future held more pain and more glory in store.

  As he gripped his maul, words showed in his eyes.

  A Glorious Achievement!

  By the Three’s unyielding will, you have uncovered a fragment of the vile Nexus – a blasphemous construct of tyranny that defies the sanctity of Theosis, the Divine System, by merely existing. This discovery is a monumental triumph, one that shall be richly rewarded with glory.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Through Theosis, the Holy System, this abomination has been scoured from the stars, its corruption cleansed in the fires of righteous purging. In doing so, the shadowed history of Terra's forgotten sons has been illuminated, some secrets laid bare for the glory of the Holy Empire. Rejoice, for this is a deed worthy of note.

  Glory Points bestowed: 50

  For God and Empire!

  Fifty points were a fortune compared to the other two Glorious Achievements he had received, even if it wasn’t doubled, so that gladdened him for a moment, through the nausea and burning.

  Angar snapped awake with a jolt, his breath catching in his throat.

  He lay entombed within a machine, its interior awash in a gentle, pulsing blue glow. The surface inches from his face gleamed flawless and smooth, its hue flickering between stark white and the same soft blue of the light.

  Disoriented, he blinked. His body felt leaden but oddly unburdened by pain.

  Spirit had claimed this device was reserved for the elite, the very important few. He’d recited a special code to the medical robot before it allowed him entry and the promise of healing and purging the zero-point-energy radiation sickness.

  He hoped all that was true. It seemed to be working.

  After shutting down the ship's power, Spirit had said the radiation would linger, killing most life that came close to the ship for at least another generation.

  Reaching the medical bay hadn’t been easy. The nausea had worsened with every step, making his head swim and his vision blur at the edges, and his injuries made each of those steps hurt. His skin felt as if it crawled with fire.

  With the ship’s power completely off, all was pitch-black, Spirit becoming his source of light once again. She had him lug two deceptively heavy boxes along with him, not easy while carrying his maul too.

  His pack was emptied and stuffed with the seven zero-point-energy waste containers, the same as the holy relic he threw in the once great Mount Shirdis. Those seven were all there were, or he believed he’d be carrying more of them.

  As they neared the lift to the medical bay, Angar had stumbled past rows of shutdown robots stacked deep, with many toppled over mid-stride.

  Seeing him look curiously at the robots, Spirit said, "This ship launched with over a hundred million souls, Angar. A self-sustaining world, a city in the void, built for a nearly thousand-year journey. Thirty-six kilometers long, two kilometers wide, divided into quadrants, tiers, and sectors.

  “You fought all the robots in all the tiers and sectors of the Stern Quadrants. These are from the Aft Cores. The ones in the Midship Nexuses would come after, and there’s a ton of those, then the Fore Cores, then the Bow Quadrants.”

  Beyond the danger of death from radiation poisoning, Spirit’s urgency made more sense. No wonder she'd been so insistent, so desperate to keep him moving. A little slower and he would’ve been too busy warring against endless machines to accomplish anything else.

  When they reached the medical bay, Angar had collapsed against the wall, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the heavy boxes, following Spirit’s instructions on how to link them together, then link both with an outlet in the ground.

  Once done, the hum of reactivation filled the bay, and the medical robot whirred to life.

  He barely managed to climb into the machine before darkness claimed him.

  Now, awake and pain-free, Angar marveled at the change. His skin no longer burned or itched, the nausea was gone, his head was clear, and the permanent headache that had plagued him had vanished.

  Spirit told him he’d be in there for a while. With no sense of time, Angar's mind wandered, drifting to his life as a Crusader.

  He loved it. He could do without all the rushing and running around, but all that rushing and running always ended in battle, and that made it well worth it.

  The fights on this ship had tested his mettle without the use of his Abilities, proving their strength. If he'd been able to use them, these battles would’ve probably been trivial, even considering the speed and hardiness of these robots.

  His Abilities were so strong due to his high Power Level. His high Power Level was due to his Capstone as well as Spirit placing all his Attribute and Stat points in Body and Physique. He wouldn’t even have his two powerful Abilities if it weren’t for the Class that Spirit had him select.

  And the description of the Class made him believe Spirit had a hand in it being offered in the first place.

  Spirit was demanding, sure, but placing his trust in her had proven its worth many times over. It also provided a lot of chances to make war and test his mettle.

  He was certain his father would be proud of him. His mother too. He was very mighty now.

  And there was more to it than Classes and Abilities.

  During combat, it was acting and reacting with little thought of anything else, running off instincts.

  But after, when he reflected on his battles, he realized he did have something like a danger sense and an almost supernatural awareness, allowing him to move away from attacks before he even knew they were coming.

  That was due to his Feats, and his Feats were chosen by Spirit too.

  He still wasn’t certain what a Messiah was, but it seemed like a really big deal. The timeline he was shown claimed she had merged with Nexus, and the Holy Joining created Theosis, so she was kind of half the Divine System.

  And this person was his friend and mentor, or her spirit was. Only a fool wouldn’t seize this opportunity. Only a fool wouldn’t be filled with overwhelming gratitude.

  As he thought, a darker blue box materialized before his face, its text glowing faintly. Angar squinted, struggling to read the words.

  DNAe and QCM treatment complete. Cellular repair: 82%.

  Warning: Subsequent treatments will be less effective, increase epigenetic resistance, downregulating repair pathways, and could induce decoherence in cellular structures.

  Stage 2 will initiate momentarily, deploying nanites targeting specific genetic loci and damaged cells, repairing membranes, and stabilizing coherence by realigning electron orbits and neutralizing vacuum fluctuations.

  Administering anesthetic.

  He understood little of it, but it sounded nice. Eighty-two percent sounded pretty good to him. That was more than four in five cellular repairs. He’d take it. He just hoped cellular repairs were good.

  Soon after, he felt faintly nauseas, a little groggy, and his body tingled.

  To distract himself, Angar summoned the System, its interface flickering to life in front of him. He learned he could navigate the screens with thought alone, with no need for physical pokes.

  He studied what Spirit called his build. After, he looked through all the Feat and Class options. He studied those too, losing himself in the possibilities of future choices.

  He must have missed new messages from the machine, because the door hissed open, startling him.

  Angar sat up, feeling incredible. He felt better than he ever had in his life. Though his body being so free of pain felt wrong, like he was a rich, soft southerner that had lived a life of ease and plenty, in their cool breezes that caused little burning.

  Spirit appeared, her stance more relaxed, and her demeanor calmer.

  “Okay," she said. “Remember, radiation lingers. We still need to move fast. But first, I need you to get something for me. Then, for you we’re getting clothes, boots, and some other stuff. No armor, sorry, but the clothes will fit better and be more comfortable than anything you've ever worn."

  “Understood,” replied Angar.