Zaria’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, the world around her was a haze of gray and metallic cold. Her breath caught as she stared up at the ceiling—smooth, sleek, and devoid of anything familiar. Panic nipped at the edges of her mind as disorientation settled in like a heavy fog.

  She pushed herself upright, her movements sluggish, as though her body had forgotten how to cooperate. Her limbs ached, each muscle weighed down with the kind of exhaustion that only came from running for your life.

  The room around her was sterile, the walls seamless panels of silver-gray metal that glinted faintly in the dim light. A faint hum vibrated beneath her palms as she pressed her hands against the cool floor, grounding herself. Her pulse thudded in her ears, drowning out the silence that hung like an oppressive veil over the space.

  This isn’t the Horizon Seeker, her mind finally registered, though the thought did little to calm the racing questions swirling in her head. She glanced around, the sharp edges of the unfamiliar room cutting into her foggy recollections. No comforting hum of ship engines, no familiar creak of the crew quarters. Just… this.

  Her eyes landed on a glowing console embedded in the wall, the faint blue light casting a sterile glow across the room. A flicker of recognition ignited in her mind. Safe haven. Xyros’s words echoed back to her.

  Zaria let out a shaky breath, the confusion in her chest slowly giving way to clarity. She was safe—for now. The sharp chill of the room bit at her skin, reminding her that this was no luxurious sanctuary, but a stopgap in the relentless Nexus Trials.

  “Well,” she muttered, her voice scratchy and dry, “at least I’m not dead. That’s progress, right?”

  She swung her legs over the edge of the raised platform that had served as her makeshift bed, wincing as stiff muscles protested. The air carried a faint metallic tang, the kind that prickled at her nose and made her hyper-aware of the artificiality surrounding her.

  A holographic display flickered to life as she moved, startling her with its sudden appearance. The room’s hum seemed to grow louder, almost expectant.

  “Welcome, TechNav Zaria Jenkins,” the System AI chirped in its usual, sarcastic tone. “Your vital signs are stable. Congratulations on surviving another day.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she muttered, rubbing at her temples. “Glad to know I’m stable and not about to drop dead.”

  The disorientation still lingered, but as she stood and took a shaky step forward, determination began to harden in her chest. This wasn’t home, but it was a reprieve. A chance to regroup, plan, and—hopefully—figure out how not to end up a statistic like that poor Ilyran she’d seen.

  “Alright, Zaria,” she whispered to herself, glancing at the faint glow of her TNC. “Let’s see what today’s nightmare has in store for us.”

  The memory of the fading sun clung to Zaria like a dream as she shifted on the cold, flat surface of the sleeping platform. Her arrival at the safe haven played back in her mind, vivid and surreal, as though it belonged to someone else. She had been on the verge of collapse, her legs threatening to give out entirely, when the safe haven’s entrance shimmered into view.

  Tomma, the NPC running the place, had been unlike anything she’d ever seen—or imagined. A tall, multi-limbed being with smooth gray skin that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, Tomma had greeted her with an enthusiastic chatter that had caught Zaria completely off guard.

  What really threw her off, though, were Tomma’s four eyes. Two of them locked onto Zaria with an unsettling intensity, while the other two drifted independently, scanning the room with what Zaria could only assume was practiced efficiency. And then there was the scarf.

  The brightly colored, patterned cloth wrapped around Tomma’s head hadn’t been stationary, as Zaria first thought—it writhed and shimmered like it had a life of its own. Maybe it did. Her exhaustion had been so profound that her usual curiosity about the universe’s oddities had been dulled to a faint spark. Still, her grandmother’s stern voice whispered in the back of her mind, “Always mind your manners, Zaria.” So she resisted the urge to gawk.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Tomma had seemed delighted by her presence, chattering on as she led Zaria through the metallic corridors of the haven. There was a kindness to her voice, even if the words were clipped and alien. She had gestured enthusiastically to the small room Zaria now occupied, her four arms sweeping in grand, welcoming arcs. The lack of other beings made Tomma’s excitement bittersweet—Zaria could tell she didn’t get visitors often.

  As Zaria lay there, staring up at the metallic ceiling, a faint smile tugged at her lips despite her exhaustion. “Friendly NPCs in a death maze. Maybe my subconscious isn’t completely twisted,” she muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair.

  Her gaze drifted to the glowing panel by the door, its faint pulse a reminder of where she was. The safe haven was sterile and functional, nothing like the warm, familiar quarters of the Horizon Seeker. But it was safe—for now. The room’s quiet hum was the closest thing to comfort she’d felt since arriving in the Nexus Arena.

  She took a deep breath, letting the weight of her fatigue settle over her. For the first time since she’d woken up in the dark, she felt something stir beneath her confusion and fear: confidence. She’d survived the Scraplings. She’d solved the riddle and crossed the electrified river. She’d found the first sphere.

  “This is real,” she murmured to herself, the words carrying more certainty than she expected. Her TNC flickered in her vision, reminding her of the achievements she’d unlocked. They weren’t just marks of survival—they were proof of progress.

  Sitting up, Zaria swung her legs over the edge of the platform. Her muscles still ached, but the fire in her chest had reignited. “Alright,” she said, her voice steady. “One sphere down, three to go. And no matter what this place throws at me next, I’ll be ready.”

  The metallic hum of the room seemed to respond, almost approvingly, as Zaria stood and stretched. Her gaze flicked to the door. Somewhere out there, more challenges waited. And she was done hesitating.

  Zaria’s gaze lingered on the untouched ration pack sitting in the corner of the room. It seemed to mock her, a tangible reminder of how far she was from her life as a star charting scientist. She let out a hollow laugh, rubbing her temples. “One minute, I’m mapping constellations, and the next, I’m starring in some intergalactic death match. How did this become my life?”

  The air in the room felt heavy, stagnant. Each breath seemed louder, amplified in the sterile quiet. Her thoughts churned relentlessly, threatening to drag her into the depths of worry she’d been trying to avoid. Where’s the crew? What happened to the Horizon Seeker? To Walter?

  Her chest tightened at the thought of her crewmates—Master Sergeant Reynolds, the no-nonsense tactical genius; Lieutenant Lyla Trent, with her sweet attitude and thirst for knowledge; Commander Takeshi Ryu, the steadfast, honorable leader and his ability to find solutions to any situation. And then Walter, her little ferret, always getting into mischief, probably hunting for scraps even now… if he was alive.

  She shook her head hard, banishing the thought. The image of Walter scurrying around an empty lab, scared and alone, was too much. Her breath hitched as panic threatened to take hold. What if they didn’t make it? What if I’m the only one left?

  “Stop it!” she snapped, the sound of her own voice startling her. She buried her face in her hands, willing the rising tide of fear to recede. “This isn’t helping. None of it is.”

  Zaria inhaled deeply, her hands dropping to her lap. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, firm and resolute, from all the times she’d picked herself up after failure: “You are more than your doubts. You are woman. Roar.”

  “Roar, mother cluckers!” she yelled to the empty room, the sound bouncing off the cold walls. The absurdity of the moment made her chuckle, breaking the oppressive tension coiling in her chest. Her laughter faded into a determined silence as she stood, her legs still heavy with exhaustion but infused with new resolve.

  She stretched, her joints popping, and straightened her spine. “Alright, Zaria. Enough wallowing. If they’re out there, they’re counting on me. And if they’re not…” Her jaw tightened as she stared at the locked door ahead. “…then I’m going to show this arena exactly what humans are made of.”

  Her TNC flickered to life, the waypoint for the next sphere glowing softly like a guiding star. It pulsed, steady and constant, drawing her forward. With one last glance at the cramped, lifeless room, Zaria took a deep breath.

  The lock disengaged with a faint hiss, the door sliding open to reveal the wild, alien expanse of the Nexus Arena. The air outside was sharp, the alien terrain bathed in eerie twilight as shadows stretched long and menacing.

  “Alright, Zaria,” she muttered, stepping out into the unknown, her shoulders squared and head high. “Time to show the Va’Skari what happens when you underestimate a scientist with a lot to prove.”

  And with that, she strode forward, the pulse of the waypoint leading her deeper into the unforgiving arena, determination etched into every step.