[Oliver's PoV]

  “Take me home,” he whispered.

  The words had just left his lips when reality folded in on itself.

  The world shattered into light and distortion. Space twisted for a heartbeat, and Oliver felt himself pulled through layers of existence. His body stretched, compressed, dissolved, and then he was standing on solid ground again.

  The air was heavy, metallic, humming with the rhythm of generators. The faint blue glow of lights flickered along the walls, illuminating the corridors of the subterranean base.

  'I made it back.' He thought, finally relaxing.

  He had reached Aquarius, or at least one of the hidden outposts on its outskirts.

  As Oliver relaxed, he heard someone shouting beside him.

  “Where the hell have you been?!”

  Oliver turned sharply. Six was sprawled on the ground nearby, half-covered in dust and sand, his robe torn, his breathing ragged. He pushed himself up with shaking hands, his eyes wide with fury and relief.

  “I’ve been searching for you for weeks!”

  Oliver blinked, confusion cutting through his exhaustion. “Weeks? What are you talking about? It’s only been… minutes.”

  Six stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “Minutes? No. It’s been three weeks.” His voice cracked with disbelief. “We fell into that hole—I couldn’t find you or the others. I had to go back to the Oasis to track you!”

  Oliver frowned, his mind struggling to process the words. His body still ached from the fight, his senses dulled by fatigue. The idea of weeks passing didn’t fit. It couldn’t.

  He shook his head, unwilling to argue. “Three weeks…?” he murmured under his breath, but the words didn’t feel real.

  Without answering further, he started walking toward the exit tunnel, his steps slow but steady. The familiar hum of the base’s teleportation systems vibrated beneath his boots. Teleportation without arrays was one of their few luxury.

  Oliver glanced down at his Gauntlet, instinct guiding him to check the Universal Date display. The screen flickered, static crawling across it before fading to black.

  He exhaled sharply, annoyed.

  “Show me your screen,” he said, gesturing to Six.

  Six’s expression was a mixture of surprise and confusion. His hands shook slightly as he rushed to Oliver’s side, his Gauntlet already flickering to life. With two quick taps, the device projected a holographic interface into the air; a cascade of blue light filled with numbers, symbols, and data streams.

  Oliver’s tired eyes scanned the projection, but the information blurred together. His vision swam as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was reading.

  Then, at last, he found it.

  The date.

  “Eighteen days?”

  The words left his mouth before he fully processed them. They sounded foreign, hollow. “But—”

  His thoughts fractured as he went through possibilities. 'It had to be the Sovereign.' The ancient being must have altered the flow of time somehow. Perhaps he had slowed it within the temple, or accelerated it outside its influence. Either way, the result was the same. Oliver had slipped through nearly three weeks of history without realizing it.

  'Even time must have some kind of cost, to slow somewhere he needs to speed up in another place,' Oliver thought.

  “I told you!” Six’s voice cracked, pulling him back to the present. “The storm ended on the tenth day! After that, ships started descending; one after another. Whole fleets, entire battalions looking for the others. I asked if they were going to send someone after you, but Thalos said if you couldn’t make it back on your own, sending anyone else would be suicide.”

  Six’s words came in a rush, his tone frantic, his hands gesturing wildly.

  Oliver remained silent for a moment, his mind still turning. Then he nodded slowly. “Thalos was right.” There was no bitterness in his voice, only cold realization.

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  The two of them began climbing the narrow staircase that led out of the subterranean chamber.

  Six’s breathing steadied as they climbed, though his eyes darted toward Oliver every few seconds, as if afraid he might disappear again. Finally, he broke the silence.

  “Ah! So… did you get it?”

  Oliver glanced at him, the faintest shadow of a smile crossing his face. “Yeah. Finally. First mission, completed.”

  Six let out a loud, relieved cheer, his voice bouncing off the metal walls. “Finally! I don’t have to go back there!”

  Oliver’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. He knew why Six was celebrating; not because the mission had succeeded, but because he wouldn’t have to return to that cursed place.

  They were almost at the surface when Six slowed his pace, glancing around the narrow corridor as if making sure they were alone. Then, with a practiced motion, he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a white mask.

  It was simple, utilitarian. No insignia, no crest, no letter; only a single black number, etched across the left cheek: 6.

  Before Oliver could say anything, Six slipped it on. The mask sealed with a faint hiss, hiding his face completely. He stripped off the sand-stained desert garb he’d worn on the mission and tossed it aside, revealing the crisp, dark-blue uniform of Aquarius beneath. The transformation was instant. From wanderer to operative. From survivor to ghost.

  “I’m doing what Thalos did,” Six said casually, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask. “Taking a vacation. Getting some sun. Maybe I’ll finally learn how to surf like him.”

  Oliver gave a faint, tired smirk. “You can do that. After you help Three.”

  Six stopped mid-step. “Three? No, no, no, please. Not Three. There’s nothing to do there. It’s worse than Fantasia-3.”

  Even with the mask, Oliver could sense his frustration. Six’s voice carried that familiar tone, a mix of sarcasm and genuine dread.

  Oliver paused, exhaling slowly. For a moment, he wondered if he was being too hard on him.

  With a sigh, he relented.

  “Fine. Talk to Thalos. If there’s another stalled mission, you can be reassigned.”

  Six’s shoulders relaxed visibly. He muttered something under his breath, almost like a prayer. “Anything but Three. Anything but Three.”

  They emerged onto the main avenue of Aquarius.

  The city was quiet. It was one of the few hours of true night, when both suns of the binary system were below the horizon. The sky above was a deep indigo streaked with faint auroras.

  Cold air swept through the streets. Only a few vehicles glided along the tracks, their blue underlights cutting through the mist. Most of the city’s activity was underground, where the warmth of the geothermal cores kept life constant.

  Without a word, the two men made their way toward the central headquarters. Even at night, the building was alive.

  Operatives moved briskly through the lobby, their footsteps echoing against the polished floor. The air hummed with the low murmur of conversation and the distant thrum of machinery.

  Near the entrance, a tall figure waited for them. With his arms crossed, a relaxed posture, and wearing surfer clothes, Thalos seemed entirely out of place in that environment.

  “Command informed me of your return,” Thalos said as they approached. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks, Thalos.” Oliver nodded before turning to Six. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, Thalos will decide your next assignment.”

  Six gave a lazy salute. “See you later, Governor.”

  Then he was gone, disappearing into the stream of personnel moving through the lobby.

  Oliver wasted no time. He strode toward the nearest lift, Thalos falling into step beside him. The elevator doors hissed open, and he pressed his thumb against the console, selecting the Tech Hangar.

  The descent was silent save for the faint hum of the lift’s magnetic field. When the doors opened, the sound hit them immediately. There was the rhythmic clang of tools, the low buzz of generators, the occasional burst of static from welding torches. Even in the late hours, the hangar never truly slept.

  Rows of workstations stretched across the vast chamber. Each station was cluttered with half-assembled drones, weapon components, and glowing holograms.

  Oliver scanned the room until his eyes found the two men he was looking for.

  “Dedalus!” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

  Every head turned, but only two stayed still.

  They wore identical masks, plain white with the markings D1 and D2 etched in black across the forehead. Their jumpsuits were stained with grease, ash, and flecks of metallic dust. They turned in unison, wiping their hands on dirty rags before approaching.

  “Governor!” Dedalus-1 greeted, his voice distorted slightly through the mask’s filter. “We still haven’t made progress on Project Leviathan.” His tone was weary, defeated.

  Oliver waved a hand dismissively. “Forget Leviathan for now. Thalos will move that project to someone else. I have something new for you.”

  He reached down, unclipping the heavy satchels from his belt. The sound of shifting crystals filled the air.

  Oliver dropped the first bag onto the nearest workstation. Then another. And another.

  The contents spilled out in a cascade of molten bronze light.

  Z Crystals, dozens of them, each one pulsing faintly with Energy.

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Even through their masks, Oliver could see the disbelief in the Dedalus twins’ posture. The way they stiffened, their heads tilting slightly as though trying to make sense of what they were seeing.

  Thalos took a step closer, his usual composure wavering. “Governor… this amount. Is that—”

  Oliver cut him off with a raised hand.

  “It’s time to begin Project Styx.”