"Blaze, you okay? Don't get up—you need to rest."
The words came out shakier than I wanted. My voice cracked from exhaustion and worry, but I didn't care.
The battle was finally over. The Shard—the one that had mimicked Blaze perfectly—was gone. The sky above was quiet again, and for the first time since the explosion, I could breathe. The weight sitting in my chest since that fight began finally eased, just a little.
He was alive.
"I'm fine," Blaze said, trying to sound casual. "This is nothing."
He tried to chuckle but ended up coughing instead, the sound tearing through his throat as he lay back on the rubble.
"Sir, you need to get some rest," SK said firmly. "I'll find supplies—maybe something left from the house."
Before either of us could stop her, she ran off toward what was left of the structure we used to call home.
"Come on, Ryze," Blaze muttered with that same infuriating grin. "Stop worrying so much."
I sighed. "You're bleeding through your armor, Blaze. Forgive me for being slightly concerned."
He waved a weak hand. "See? Still breathing."
He tried to push himself up again—stubborn as always—but stumbled halfway, his knees giving out. I caught him before he fell.
"See? I told you," I said, shaking my head. "Just stay still for once."
He smirked. "You're bossier than I remember."
"You're worse than I remember," I shot back. But despite everything, I was smiling. The idiot was alive, and somehow that made all of this worth it.
"Hey! I found some supplies!" SK's voice echoed from the ruins.
"Good!" I shouted back. "We'll set up camp for now!"
Hours passed.
We built a temporary shelter beside what was left of the house. SK got a fire going while I set up a makeshift bedroll for Blaze out of scavenged cloth and plating. The night—or whatever counted as "night" in the Void—was quiet, the faint blue glow above us flickering like dying stars.
Blaze watched us with a lazy grin as SK and I argued over who should cook.
"I told you, I can handle this," I said, crossing my arms.
SK shot me a glare. "You almost burned the water last time."
"You can't burn water!"
"You somehow did."
Blaze burst out laughing, holding his stomach despite the pain. "You two really don't change, huh?"
I turned to him, mock-offended. "You think this is funny?"
"Yes," he said with a smile that was way too genuine for someone who nearly died hours ago.
"Sir," SK said politely, still glaring at me, "may I cook the food instead of Ryze?"
Blaze just chuckled. "You two can figure it out on your own."
So we did—or at least, SK did. I mostly sat there and pretended to help while she cooked. Eventually, the fire crackled warmly between us, and the air smelled faintly of roasted rations.
We ate in silence for a while. The quiet was strange—peaceful, almost unreal after what we'd been through. Blaze leaned against a broken wall, staring into the fire.
"Blaze," I said softly, "you promised to explain everything. Now's the perfect time."
SK nodded. "Yes, sir. Ryze is right."
Blaze chuckled quietly. "When did you two ever agree on anything?"
"Don't dodge the question," I said.
He sighed and shifted slightly, the light from the fire reflecting off his cracked armor.
"When I fell into the Void," he began slowly, "I had nothing but my gear. My armor, my sword, and whatever junk fell with me. For a while, I thought I was the only one here."
SK and I listened quietly. The wind outside the firelight hissed faintly, carrying the hum of static through the ruins.
"But then they showed up," Blaze continued. "The Shards. At first, I thought they were just broken data—glitches wandering the edge of the code. But they fought like players. They learned. Every move I made, they copied, refined, and used it against me."
He paused, his expression darkening. "The one I fought today… wasn't the first to mimic me. I've destroyed dozens. Maybe hundreds. But some of them…" He looked up at us. "Some of them survived. Watching. Waiting."
"So this one…" I said quietly. "You've seen it before."
He nodded. "Yeah. I thought I trapped it a long time ago, sealed it in an unstable section of the Void. Guess I was wrong."
SK leaned forward slightly. "But what are they, really? What are the Shards?"
Blaze's gaze dropped to the fire. The reflection of the flames flickered in his eyes. "They're not living things. Not truly. They're failed code—remnants of an experiment."
"An experiment?" I repeated.
He nodded slowly. "A failed one. Shards are glitched AI—abandoned projects from SynCorp. They tried to make adaptive enemies. AIs that could evolve with players, copy tactics, create endless challenge."
SK's brow furrowed. "That's… like CyberGale's system."
"Exactly," Blaze said. "They used the same base AI model. When CyberGale fell, the data merged with other dying servers, bleeding into the Void. That's where the Shards came from—fragments of those AIs, rebuilding themselves through mimicry."
I shivered. "So… every time we fight one—"
"They learn more," Blaze finished. "Every move, every decision, every emotion—it all gets recorded. Adapted. Used."
The fire popped, sending sparks into the cold air. For a moment, none of us spoke.
"Is there a way to stop them?" SK asked quietly.
Blaze looked at her, then at me, and shook his head. "Not really. You can destroy them temporarily, but they'll always reform. Somewhere out there, they're learning how to beat every version of us."
The silence that followed was heavy. The kind that sat in your chest and refused to leave.
After a while, Blaze leaned back against the rubble, his energy visibly fading. "You two should rest," he said softly. "It's been a long day."
"What about you?" I asked.
He gave a faint smile. "You know me. I'll rest when I'm dead."
"That's not funny," I said quietly.
He met my eyes, and for a moment, I thought I saw something tired—something sad—beneath that confident grin.
"Maybe not," he murmured.
The fire crackled between us, the flames reflecting off the cold metal of his armor.
"You gonna sleep?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No. You should rest. I'll keep watch."
He chuckled weakly. "Alright, soldier. Don't overdo it."
I smiled faintly. "You should tell yourself that more often."
He smirked, closing his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing steadied—shallow, but calm.
SK finished cleaning the weapons, then leaned against a rock across from me. "He's tougher than he looks," she said softly.
"Yeah," I whispered, staring into the fire. "But he's still human."
The flames danced between us, casting long shadows over the rubble.
And somewhere beyond that dim circle of light, I thought I saw movement—a flicker in the dark.
The Void was never truly quiet.
Not for long.