Chapter 84: Welcome Aboard the Calyptus 7

A few minutes later, the boarding shuttle detached silently from the Narak’Tharr, leaving Marn Sevil behind as it headed toward the Calyptus-7—an immense ship with hulls corroded by time, its red lights flickering like the dying beats of a sick heart.

**Calyptus 7 — Entry Bay**

The air inside stank of scorched ozone, overheated circuits, and something older… fouler. Vykhor halted at the threshold of the corridor.

"This ship is a tomb," he said, his golden predator’s gaze sweeping the decaying walls. He stretched one arm to block Evelyn from stepping forward.
"Hold. Something is messing with our perceptions."

Evelyn calmly activated her scanner. The readings were inconsistent, shifting—almost lying.

"I know. That’s why we have to go in. There’s a real distress signal under the illusions."

Zeynn growled, claws flicking out instinctively.
"Yeah. And the illusions already smell like circus rot."

Right then, a synthetic voice boomed through the speakers:

*"WELCOME TO THE CALYPTUS 7!*
*PREPARE FOR YOUR FIRST CHALLENGE: THE HORROR BOOTH!*
*Shoot. Aim. Win. Or… restart. Forever."*

Spotlights activated, revealing a circular chamber filled with faded banners, decrepit carnival booths, and mutilated claw machines. At the center, a grotesque automaton in the shape of a pink bear with human teeth rose slowly.

Blue growled low.

He moved instantly between Evelyn and the creature, his fur bristling, tension vibrating through his massive body. No bark. Just the sharp rhythm of his breath.

Vykhor took in the scene—the smell of oil, the shift of shadows, the too-bright lights.

"It’s a trap disguised as a game," he murmured. "And it wants us to play along."

He pointed at a console in front of them.

"It wants us to play."

Colorful water guns were lined up like a twisted carnival stand—too cheerful, too human.

Zeynn blinked.
"Seriously? We’re supposed to shoot stuffed animals to move forward?"

"No," Evelyn replied. "It wants to see if we obey without question."

She picked one of the guns carefully, scanned it. Purple liquid shimmered inside, unstable.

"Not water. Acid derivative. Laced with paralytic toxin. It's a weapon—disguised."

"Perfect," Vykhor muttered, arms crossed. "We play. But our way."

With one sharp kick, he shattered the console. The pink bear screamed—a shrill, glitching wail.

"NO! YOU MUST FOLLOW THE RULES!"

Too late. Blue pounced.

He tore through a crawling plush creature, shredding it in a burst of wires and sparks. Zeynn leapt after him, smashing a “Yay!”-squealing automaton with a punch and claws to the jaw.

"Never liked rigged games," Zeynn spat, gutting the machine.

While they fought, Evelyn circled the booths, eyes sharp, scanning cables and conduits. Then her voice rang out:

"There! Power core for the simulator—it’s beneath the candy stall."

"I’ve got it," Vykhor growled.

He vaulted onto the stand and drove his prosthetic arm deep into its guts, grabbing the core. Sparks exploded. The lights went out.

Silence.

Then the AI’s voice returned, twisted and faint:

*"Cheaters... cheaters... you win a token. But do you deserve it?"*

A red token dropped from the ceiling.

Vykhor picked it up without flinching.
"Access code. Nothing more."

He handed it to Evelyn.
"You’ll know what to do with it."

Blue stepped beside her. She laid a hand on his warm flank, then looked up at Vykhor.

"Thanks for not stopping me."

"I trust you, My’Lari. Even when you want to play with toxic toys."

Zeynn raised a brow from atop a gutted automaton.
"What now? Haunted tunnel of childhood trauma?"

A door clicked open.

The token pulsed once, then melted into the lock. The door slid aside, revealing a hallway lined with cracked mirrors and swirling mist. Familiar voices echoed faintly.

Evelyn shivered.

"This ship is probing memories. Twisting them."

"Let it try," Vykhor growled. "It’ll learn I have nothing to regret."

Zeynn said nothing. One of the reflections smiled back at him—his own face, but crueler. He stepped back, jaw tight.

Blue stayed glued to Evelyn, nearly invisible in the fog, his glowing eyes twin beacons in the dark. Every whisper, every subtle vibration sent tension through his limbs.

They stepped inside.

And the AI whispered again:

"Welcome to the Maze of Memory. We offer… personalized introspection.
There is only one rule: Do not run from who you are."

The walls shifted.

Reflections shattered.

And the world fractured.

**Evelyn — Memory Module B-13: Testing Chambers**

Alone.

The corridor was gone. Now, a sterile lab, cold and blindingly white. Glass observation windows. Fluorescent agony.

Her old files lined the walls: Subject 011-A, Alpha Prototype, Project Ashcroft.

Beyond the glass: a clone of herself, wired up, expression hollow.

A voice behind her:

"You were made to be a weapon, Evelyn. Not a woman. Not a soul."

She turned.

A faceless man in a black lab coat stared back.

She drew a breath.

"This isn’t real. It’s not who I am anymore."

But her clone stood, moving toward the glass.

"You think you escaped. But you were born here. You’ll die here."

Evelyn stepped back—then stopped. Straightened.

"No. I was born the day I chose to live. To fight."

And she walked forward.

Straight through the glass.

**Vykhor — Memory Module S-03: The Throne of Void**

A round chamber. Ancient. Towering.

A broken throne.

Upon it: a younger Vykhor, smug, wearing the Kael’tarian crest.

"You ran," the voice accused. "You betrayed your blood."

"No," Vykhor replied, stepping closer. "I chose freedom. And strength."

His reflection laughed.

"Strength? You hide in shadows, mercenary. You guard a human. You’ve weakened."

He stopped. Silent. Then raised his hand. His energy veins glowed.

"She is my light. If you think she weakens me... you know nothing of power."

He smashed his fist into the reflection.

Shattering it.

**Zeynn — Memory Module N-07: The Cage**

A dark cell. Metal floor. Foul air.

A bowl. A food tray.

And himself—small, broken, collared.

Footsteps echoed.

He turned.

A warden approached—but it was Vykhor. Cold. Unfeeling.

"You’re nothing, Zeynn. An animal. Why save you?"

Zeynn clenched his fists. Claws extended.

"Because they did. And I chose to live."

The false Vykhor stepped closer, sneering.

"You thought you were their equal? You’ll always be—"

Zeynn lunged.

"I’ll always be what I choose."

**Blue — Observation Deck**

Blue wasn’t trapped in illusion.

He sensed. Watched.

Their auras were dim, struggling. He didn’t see their battles, but he knew they fought.

So he waited.

Sentinel at the heart of the maze.

Then whispers approached. Shattered toys. Ghost laughter.

Automata. Dead memories.

Trying to reach Evelyn.

Blue snarled.

And exploded into motion.

Not to play.

To destroy.

**Maze Exit**

A light flared.

Vykhor emerged first, arm bloodied, breath ragged. Zeynn followed, shaken. Evelyn came last, eyes cold and brilliant with clarity.

Blue waited at the exit, soaked in synthetic blood.

No one spoke.

But they all knew.

This ship fed on weakness.

And they had only just begun to descend.