15 March 2025 - 14:30 PM - USA

  Washington DC — Arcadia University

  "...and as you can see, the time complexity of this particular sorting algorithm, in the worst-case scenario, is indeed O(n log n)."

  Professor Thompson's voice droned on, his laser pointer flicking over the massive projection screen displaying a mess of recursive function calls and complexity graphs.

  Rows of students sat in varying states of attention—some scribbling furiously in their notebooks, others absently scrolling through their phones. A guy near the back was nodding off, his head lolling dangerously close to his desk. Someone else tapped their pen against their laptop in an uneven rhythm, a habit more distracting than the lecture itself.

  And then there was Valerian Beaumont.

  Seated near the middle, he wasn't even pretending to take notes. He stared at the flickering light above—not because it held answers, but because it didn't ask questions.. It was mesmerizing in the most pathetically interesting way possible.

  "Hey, Valerian," a whisper came from his left.

  Sarah Matthews—bright-eyed, always-stressed Sarah—was leaning over, her expression somewhere between confused and exasperated. Her dark, shoulder-length hair framed her face perfectly, and for a moment, Valerian couldn't help but notice how the sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on her. She was beautiful, no question about it. Her wealth and status were well-known, but he'd never let it affect how he saw her. He couldn't afford to.

  "Are you getting any of this?" Sarah's voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned his gaze back to her, only slightly surprised. "Thompson's moving way too fast."

  Valerian blinked lazily, not feeling the urge to pretend. "It's just Merge Sort."

  Sarah frowned, clearly frustrated. "Yeah, I know, but it feels way more complicated this time."

  Valerian exhaled through his nose. "He's just using bigger words, Sarah. The logic's the same."

  Before she could retort, a sharp voice cut through the air.

  "Mr. Beaumont," Professor Thompson's tone was edged with mild irritation. "Since you seem so deeply engrossed in today's lesson, perhaps you'd like to explain why Merge Sort maintains an O(n log n) complexity?"

  All eyes turned to Valerian.

  He blinked. Not in surprise—just processing whether this was worth engaging in. Technically, he could ignore it. Thompson would just roll his eyes and move on. But then he caught Sarah watching him, expectant.

  He sighed internally. Fine.

  "It's the divide-and-conquer approach," he said, voice level. "Each step splits the problem in half, so that's the logarithmic part. The merging takes linear time per level of recursion, which gives you O(n log n) overall."

  A few murmurs rippled through the room. A guy in the back muttered, "Damn, that actually made sense."

  Professor Thompson, caught between approval and annoyance, gave a curt nod. "Correct. Next time, try paying attention before I have to call on you."

  Valerian just shrugged. He wasn't not paying attention—he just processed this stuff way faster than the rest of them. The lecture continued, but he was already checked out.

  Sarah nudged him with her elbow, grinning. "Show-off."

  He smirked slightly, tilting his head toward the flickering light again. "Just keeping things interesting."

  Sarah rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Despite his usual jabs and dismissive remarks, she couldn't help but notice him. There was something different about how effortlessly he grasped the material compared to his apparent disinterest in everything else. Over the past two years, a question had lingered in the back of her mind: what was his deal?

  .....

  The moment class ended, the room erupted into noise. Students stuffed laptops into bags, chairs scraped against the floor, and people funnelled toward the exits like their lives depended on escaping.

  Sarah slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to Valerian. "Hey, listen… it's been, what, two years, and we haven't hung out despite sitting together all year round?"

  Valerian raised an eyebrow, amused. "And? What's the problem with that?"

  Sarah huffed, folding her arms. "Let me repay you for your help last week—"

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  "No need, Sarah, it wasn't a big deal."

  "I insist, please?" she pressed, eyes locking onto his with something dangerously close to determination.

  Valerian studied her for a moment. He could say no. He probably should. But something in the way she was looking at him made him hesitate.

  "Fine," he finally relented, slinging his backpack onto one shoulder. "But don't expect me to pretend this is some grand social event."

  Sarah grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it. My friends, Jen, Mia and I will be going out to an escape room at 3 PM."

  "Alright, I will be there."

  As they walked out together, she allowed herself a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to get somewhere with him.

  ...

  Valerian left the Arcadia University campus, walking briskly toward his dorm. It was Friday. That meant an entire weekend of uninterrupted gaming, a reward for enduring another week of lectures.

  The male dormitory wasn't far, and his room was conveniently on the first floor. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a sigh. The space was small, functional—bed on one side, his prized gaming laptop on the other. A tiny kitchenette and bathroom rounded out his modest sanctuary. It wasn't much, but it was his.

  Leaning against the door, he exhaled. The quiet, the solitude—it was exactly what he needed.

  'Food first. Then shower. Then games.'

  "Noodles and bangers sound perfect," he muttered, heading to the kitchen. He found the noodles quickly, but when he opened the fridge, he frowned. Only two bangers left. He'd have to stock up soon.

  Ten minutes later, dinner was ready. He ate slowly, savouring the simple meal. Not bad for a broke college student. He smirked. 'Not like I need five-star dining anyway.'

  By 4 PM, he had cleaned up, showered, and settled in front of his laptop, a fresh cup of coffee beside him. Endless Space 2 booted up, its familiar logo glowing on the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard—

  His phone rang.

  He groaned, glancing at the caller ID. Mom.

  With a resigned sigh, he answered. "Hey, Mom. Everything okay? You usually text first."

  "Well, can't a mother call her son just to say hello?" Her voice carried its usual mix of mild exasperation and warmth. "How's college going, love? Still surviving on instant noodles?"

  Valerian leaned back, already feeling the pull of his game. "Mom, I'm fine. My grades are solid. And noodles aren't that bad."

  "Young man, you need to take care of your health while you can." A familiar lecture. "And grades aren't everything. Have you left that dorm for anything besides lectures? Your father and I were hoping you'd visit next weekend. It's been too long."

  Valerian's fingers twitched toward his laptop. "Mom, it's… it's how I unwind. I'm keeping up with everything." He knew he sounded defensive, but it was true. "And I promise to visit more."

  A small sigh on the other end. "Alright, alright. Just checking in on my brilliant but slightly hermit-like son." A chuckle softened her words. "Speaking of brilliance—how are your even more brilliant twin sisters? Last I heard, they were acing astrophysics and pre-med."

  Valerian smirked. "Probably solving interstellar travel and curing the common cold in their free time."

  "Oh? And when was the last time you actually talked to them?"

  He hesitated. "…A few-ish weeks ago?"

  "Ish?"

  "They're fine, Mom."

  "Mm-hmm. I'll check on them myself."

  There was a brief pause before her voice softened. "We miss you, Valerian. You could come home just for a weekend, you know. It's only an hour's drive. We didn't buy you that car for nothing."

  He hesitated, eyes flicking to the laptop screen. A whole weekend away from gaming…

  "I'll… see what I can do."

  "I know you're busy. Just remember we're here, alright? And try to eat something other than noodles."

  "Yes, Mom."

  "Good. Love you, sweetie."

  "Love you too."

  The call ended. Valerian let out a breath, rolling his shoulders. He knew she meant well, but leaving his routine—even for a weekend—felt… complicated.

  He stared at the glowing Endless Space logo, the promise of galactic conquest a welcome escape.

  "Right," he muttered, shaking off the lingering guilt.

  Time to take over the galaxy.

  Valerian's hand moved automatically toward his coffee as he waited for his saved game to load. A quick sip—the warmth surged through him, sharpening his focus.

  The screen flickered to life, revealing a sprawling, twin-galaxy map.

  The Crimson Empire dominated almost 90% of it. Nearly every planet had been colonized, every resource harvested, every rival crushed under his rule.

  His military might was unmatched. Corvettes, Cruisers, Dreadnoughts, Capital Ships—he had them all.

  And right now, one of his most powerful fleets was moving into position.

  Vermillion Armada.

  It was the blade that carved his empire across the stars, undefeated in every campaign. Thanks to his strategies, it had torn through every opposition like wildfire.

  The fleet loomed at the edge of enemy space—a disciplined wall of thirty-six warships, waiting for his command.

  At its heart, four Carriers—massive, slow-moving fortresses, bristling with fighters and bombers. Encircling them, four Battleships, their turrets tracking the void, already locking onto distant targets.

  Further out, a deadly perimeter—two Cruisers, four Destroyers, four Corvettes—each ship engineered for war.

  Destroyers: The guardians, their point-defence systems primed to shred incoming missiles.

  Corvettes: Fast, unpredictable, striking like wasps at anything foolish enough to get close.

  This fleet wasn't built to defend.

  It was built to end things.

  A small light blinked in the corner of the screen. One of his exploration fleets, an automated force roaming the galaxy in search of new worlds and resources, had sent a status update.

  He glanced at it absentmindedly—

  Glitch. Flicker.

  The fleet vanished from the map.

  A notification popped up.

  "Your 200th exploration fleet, Red Sun, has lost contact with the Mother Star."

  Valerian frowned. 'Lost contact? Not destroyed?'

  'Odd. There were no enemies in that sector. No known threats. No anomaly warnings.'

  His fingers hovered over the keyboard. A moment of hesitation.

  Then, he dismissed the notification.

  There was no time to waste. The Vermillion Armada was about to deliver its final blow.

  "This isn't even going to be a battle," he muttered. A smirk tugged at his lips.

  "This is going to be an annihilation."

  His hand reached for the coffee again—

  His elbow knocked the mug.

  A single, horrifying moment.

  The cup tilted. Then tipped.

  A wave of black liquid cascaded across the keyboard.

  — SPLASH! —

  His blood ran cold.

  A sharp crackle erupted from the laptop, followed by a sizzle and the acrid stench of burning circuits. The screen flickered—then died.

  "Shit—!"

  Valerian scrambled, jabbing at the power button.

  — BZZT! —

  A jolt of blue light erupted from the laptop, snapping up his arm.

  Pain. A white-hot surge. His muscles spasmed, fingers locking in place. A groan wrenched from his throat as his vision darkened.

  And then—

  Everything went black.