The Graveyard Nexus loomed like a cosmic graveyard in Multiverse Epsilon-9, a void strewn with shattered Universes—jagged slabs of forgotten worlds, their edges glowing with faint aetheric static, and dying stars flickering like embers in the dark. Claire de Leon, N0-12, stepped onto a fractured slab, her reinforced heels grinding frost into ash, the thin air biting her lungs with a sour tang. The Veil's mournful dirge hummed low, a vibration that seeped into her bones, its 40% anomaly surge a ticking bomb. Her HUD blinked red: Shatterveil Harbinger detected. Proximity: 1.2 kilometers
Claire gripped Ultima, her custom aetheric sniper rifle, its gold runes pulsing with a faint glow, synced to the aetheric capacitors in her gothic tactical dress. Her silver-white hair, tied with a black ribbon, caught the dim starlight, while her icy blue eyes narrowed through the arcane scope. She'd faced death before—sniping an Echo-Class anomaly mid-phase in Multiverse Gamma-3, holding a rift open for her team, and saving N0-Beta Saria from a collapse in Delta-7. A Primal-Class like the Harbinger was new, but her training as a Void Walker had prepared her for the impossible
"Show yourself," she murmured, her soft-spoken voice steady, a sniper's calm cutting the void's silence.
Her Crazy Vision flared, probabilities flooding her mind: tendrils slashing from the left, space folding to crush her, her shot missing as the Harbinger warped reality. She filtered the chaos, locking onto the thread where she survived. The Nexus's aetheric pools—residual energy from failed Foundation experiments like Theta-3, now sealed as Haven's End—amplified her perception, a perk of her suit's design. One shot, one kill.
The Shatterveil Harbinger emerged, a mass of fractured light and shadow, its void tentacles writhing, each tipped with an aetheric fire eye. Its core pulsed like a dying star, bending space into non-Euclidean knots, its presence straining the Veil. Claire's HUD warned: Veil stability: 89%. Temporal distortion detected.
She tapped her comms, static crackling. "N0-12 to Site-01—Harbinger's active. Nexus is fraying. Containment's dicey."
"Claire, you're solo," N0-Gamma Toren's voice snapped, tense but controlled. "N0 capacity's at 12%. No backup. Make it count."
"Copy that," she replied, her tone dry but firm. "Crazy Vision's my edge."
She summoned Shadow Pulse, her matte-black tactical vehicle unfolding with a hum of aetheric thrusters, its reinforced plating scarred from past missions. She slid inside, the interior's runes glowing, and accelerated through the debris—shattered orbs, skeletal remains with aetheric static eyes, relics of the Foundation's Theta-3 disaster. Her Crazy Vision screamed—tendril, right, space folding in three seconds, dodge left—and she swerved, the vehicle skidding as a void limb slashed past.
Claire leapt out, resizing Shadow Pulse to pocket size, and dropped to one knee as the tendril smashed the slab behind her. She raised Ultima, firing a resizing bullet—a needlepoint streaking at light speed, piercing the tendril's eye. It burst, spraying fractured light, the Harbinger's cognitohazardous pulse hitting her mind with false futures: her team dying, the Veil collapsing. Her suit's aetheric runes (70% hax immunity) flared, dampening the despair, her hidden emotional core steadying her.
The core pulsed brighter, space warping tighter, but Claire's HUD showed: Time stop cooldown: 4 minutes, 58 seconds. The 5-minute cooldown, powered by her suit's aetheric capacitors, recharged via Nexus pools, gave her a tactical edge. She backed to a new slab, her rosary chain clinking, the sour air burning her throat. The Harbinger retreated, its core vulnerable but adapting. She'd survive this round—but the hunt was far from over.