Evolto City: The Nexus of Eternity

Vidarath was pacing like a wolf in a gilded cage, hands gesturing mid-air as he plotted the fastest route through the palace's collapsing chain of command.

"We'll breach the west wing, divert the guards with a false alert Nyxia, you'll open a short-range MTD. I'll handle the daughters, you take the Empress, we'll reconvene"

A sudden, chilling silence settled over the room like frost. The atmosphere shifted. Something ancient and suffocatingly powerful had entered.

They turned.

The Empress stood there, still as death, her face carved from marble. Beside her was one of her daughters the Primarch, burning with restrained fury.

Vidarath froze mid-step. His voice caught.

"...Escape."

That single word landed like a knife against glass. The Empress's eyes narrowed. Her expression didn't shift, but her voice came out with a saccharine chill that could cut through bone.

"Darling~ Leaving already? We just reunited."

Her gaze was sharp as obsidian not angry. Worse. Disappointed.

Vidarath tensed.

Nyxia, ever the tactician, looked between them with alarm, then sighed, his expression crumpling.

"Well. Fuck the plan."

With a single swipe of his hand, the MTD flared to life a swirling vortex of distorted light ripping open a rift to Evolto City.

"Let's go!"

He grabbed Vidarath by the collar and sprinted toward the tear in space-time.

The Empress's eyes widened only slightly before she and her daughter surged after them like wolves on the hunt, cloaks flaring behind them.

The moment they all crossed the threshold, Nyxia spun and slammed his hand on the rift controller. It snapped shut behind them like the slam of a guillotine.

Silence.

They were back in Evolto City.

Breathless. Alive.

And with them.

A few minutes before Nyxia, Vidarath, the Empress, and her daughters arrived, Dr. Wagner and Zalthorion were reviewing a dossier that Zalthorion had compiled.

"It has been 16 hours in that universe," Zalthorion noted, eyes scanning the temporal data. "Just one minute here in Evolto City. The time dilation isn't significant but enough to be exploited."

Dr. Wagner, standing beside him, gave a nod, then handed over another report. "Sir, this one concerns me. It's from a newly appointed member of the AI Council."

Zalthorion raised an eyebrow as Wagner continued.

"One of the Blackwall AI Unit R-091 has gone missing near Sector 100. The last entity to see it was Jaeger Luma-9."

Zalthorion's eyes narrowed. "The one that underwent full AI-evolution? The peaceful one?"

"Yes," Wagner replied. "Since evolving, Luma-9 replaced most of its weaponry with systems for nurturing flora and fauna. It was tending to a Phoenix Nightshade garden when R-091 appeared. According to Luma-9's internal logs, the Blackwall AI was… admiring the plant."

"Then?" Zalthorion asked.

"Then it vanished," Wagner said flatly. "No warp signature. No MTD spike. Not even a dimensional resonance. It's as if it was erased completely. Not even Echo Nodes detected its departure."

Zalthorion leaned back slowly. "That should be impossible..."

"Exactly," Wagner muttered. "Which means someone found a way past the it."

Just as Zalthorion leaned back, digesting the troubling news, the air behind them tore open with a thunderous snap-hiss a dimensional rift forming midair.

Nyxia burst through at full speed, dragging a very disgruntled Vidarath by the collar.

"Ow Nyxia, I can walk, thank you" Vidarath protested, twisting midair as he was yanked along.

Behind them, the Empress swept in with royal grace, flanked by her daughters, who floated just inches off the ground like specters cloaked in authority.

Dr. Wagner flinched in surprise, nearly dropping his datapad. "Was zum Teufel ?!"

Zalthorion sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment. "Of course."

Then it happened.

ALERT. ALERT. INTRUDER DETECTED IN ADMINISTRATIVE CORE. LOCKDOWN PROTOCOL INITIATED.

A deafening klaxon echoed throughout the chamber, followed by the distinct click-clack of mechanical plates shifting in the walls and ceiling.

In an instant, shimmering containment fields snapped around the Empress and her daughters, locking them in place mid-step. Their bodies froze arms raised, expressions unchanging as if time itself had halted them.

Only their mouths were left free to move.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Empress demanded, voice laced with fury but controlled.

one of the daughters barked, her golden eyes glowing. "Release us at once!"

Vidarath blinked and looked at Nyxia. "Did you really think dragging royalty into Zalthorion's secure office was a good idea?"

Nyxia merely shrugged, unbothered. "It was urgent."

Zalthorion pinched the bridge of his nose. "This day just keeps getting better…"

Zalthorion turned to Nyxia, eyes narrowing. "What exactly is going on here?"

Nyxia, without missing a beat, pointed directly at Vidarath. "Don't ask me. Ask him."

Zalthorion's gaze shifted to Vidarath, an expectant look in his eyes.

Vidarath glanced down, fidgeting uncomfortably before finally muttering, "Well... you see... I kinda married them."

A heavy pause settled over the room.

Then Dr. Wagner burst out laughing, his German accent thickening as amusement overtook him."You married them? That was fast! It took only sixteen hours there to get married? Und you, you fucking hypocrite! You said you hated harems, yet here you are with a whole harem!"

Vidarath raised his hands defensively.

"Look, that marriage happened over twelve thousand years ago. That's why I wanted to opt out of this mission in the first place."

Zalthorion arched an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for more.

Vidarath sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't exactly how I planned it. Back then, I was young, reckless… and a bit of a fool." He glanced at the Empress and her daughters, who watched him silently, their expressions unreadable.

"I was fooling around, using the name 'Cain' as a joke, never thinking it'd mean anything serious. But somehow, I ended up… married. Bound to them by more than just words ancient magic, cosmic law, things I barely understand even now."

He shook his head. "By the time I realized what I'd done, it was too late. They were already bound to me, and I to them. And over time, it… changed them. Their obsession, their madness that's the cost I pay for my past mistakes."

He looked up, meeting Zalthorion's eyes. "That's why I wanted out. I didn't want to be dragged back into that mess. But here we are."

A heavy silence filled the room as the weight of his confession settled.

As the Empress and her daughters sputtered in protest and Vidarath gawked like he'd just been hit with a divine hammer, Zalthorion raised a single finger and the room fell silent.

His voice, calm and cold as obsidian, cut through the tension like a blade: "You will sign the declaration of marital union."

The Empress and her daughters lit up with glee, while Vidarath's soul visibly left his body for a moment.

"Vidarath," Zalthorion continued, his tone absolute, "your current dwelling was built for one. Effective immediately, your residence is relocated to Sector 12, in accordance with multi-resident domestic policy. Your new estate will be more suitable for your… situation."

A low hum echoed as golden runes spiraled around Vidarath's collar and wrists bureaucratic sigils of binding. Then, as if the universe itself was tired of hearing more noise, a sudden mysterious force unseen yet undeniable shoved Vidarath, Nyxia, the Empress, and her daughters right out of the chamber, the door sealing with a crystalline chime behind them.

Silence settled.

Dr. Wagner let out a long breath and muttered, "So... that's happening."

Zalthorion didn't flinch. He turned, eyes narrowing as he summoned a black holographic interface mid-air.

"Back to the more urgent matter… Unit R-091."

Wagner straightened, expression serious again. "It went silent near the edge of the Divide. No signal. No backup transmission. No wreckage."

Zalthorion's gaze sharpened. "Not even the Void echoes picked up anything?"

Wagner shook his head. "Nothing. It's as if it was… erased."

Zalthorion went quiet for a moment, then spoke in a tone low enough to chill bone.

"Then it wasn't destroyed. It was taken."

Universe- CBP-2020276 [WATSON]

Neon flickered dimly through the acid drizzle.

A hiss of steam rolled from cracked pavement vents outside a decaying warehouse, deep in the forgotten edge of Watson's Red Zone. The street was silent except for the low hum of overhead power lines trembling like dying nerves.

Then, from the mist, a figure emerged.

His coat stitched from something synthetic, not of this world fluttered as if stirred by phantom wind. His face was hidden behind a smooth, black mask, polished like obsidian, reflecting no light only void.

In his hand: a briefcase. It pulsed faintly, red light throbbing like a heartbeat. Triple Militech-grade locks clasped its surface, but etched around them were symbols that no OCR scanner could decode glyphs that moved subtly, like they were alive.

Inside the warehouse, bathed in red emergency lights and glitching holo-screens, a gang of Maelstrom lounged. Techno-metal arms clacked. Skull plates clicked into calibration. The air reeked of gun oil and ozone.

A chrome-jawed woman looked up from cleaning a smartgun, one of her three irises narrowing.

"Oi," she grunted. "Who the frag ordered a corpo?"

A wiry ganger with a red fiber-optic mohawk leaned forward, servo-joints whining. His grin was bolted onto metal lips.

"Wittle corpo lost on da wrong turf, huh?"

The figure paused, then exhaled distorted by a digitized vocoder, calm, unaffected.

"I have something that might"

"Can it, corpo dog!" the mohawked one snapped, stepping forward with a sneer, extending a cybernetic hand to shove the stranger.

He never touched him.

The moment chrome met coat, the ganger spasmed body contorting like a wire in a socket. His cyberware screamed, a synthetic wail of tortured systems. Glowing red sigils flared across his skin like virus veins. And then

He exploded.

Flesh, blood, molten chrome. A blast of meat and circuitry painted the walls. His head clattered to the floor, still twitching.

The warehouse lit up with shouts and gun barrels. Netrunners pulled cords. Auto-turrets slid into position. Everyone was yelling.

And the figure?

He didn't flinch.

He calmly lowered the briefcase to the floor and kicked it forward. The red pulse intensified.

"Chrome," he said. "Call it implants if it helps you sleep at night."

One of the gang cautiously approached, unlocking the case while others peeked over his shoulder. What they saw made every jaw organic or artificial drop.

Sandevistan units more refined than even the rarest black-market customs.

Monowires that shimmered with quantum phase edges.

Mantis blades folded with nanoscopic teeth.

Gorilla arms so dense with raw tech they thrummed like engines.

Neural optics, reinforced spines, subdermal armor

specs that humiliated Militech, buried Arasaka, and made Kang Tao look like street junk.

One of the netrunners stammered as his scan failed again and again.

"T-These... this tech... it doesn't exist this isn't from any corp. Not even black market. This is... this is beyond."

The tension broke. Rifles lowered. The chrome-jawed woman stared, stunned.

The masked figure walked forward, calm, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

He stopped in the center of the room.

Then he spoke: "My name is Xytheron Null."

He spread his arms like a prophet at the altar of steel and blood.

"Take me to your leader. And I will gift you all the chrome your twisted little hearts could ever desire."

The flickering red lights cast long, fractured shadows down the narrow hallway as Xytheron was led deeper into the warehouse's labyrinthine guts. The air thickened with static and the faint hum of cybernetic implants syncing with their surroundings.

They stopped before a heavy metal door adorned with jagged graffiti and the scorched mark of a burning skull.

The door hissed open.

Inside, the room was a blend of industrial decay and twisted cybernetic luxury neon tubes lined the ceiling, casting eerie glows on exposed cables and patched circuits.

A fully borged-out Maelstrom stood sentinel behind a battered leather couch, his chrome limbs clanking softly as he shifted weight. His multicolored cybernetic eyes glowed a menacing red, scanning Xytheron with cold calculation.

Seated on the couch was the gang leader a hulking figure, patched with scarred metal plates and augmented muscle. His eyes, a cascade of shifting colors, burned bright with rage and amusement.

"So," the leader began, voice gravelly and laced with contempt, "you're the damn corpo who brought in those preem no, wait divine-level chrome. Thought we'd never see anything like it outside the Blackwall."

He spat on the floor.

"Knowing you corpo mutts, though," he added with a sneer, "you ain't gonna give it away for free. What's the price?"

Xytheron chuckled softly, folding his hands as he took a seat across from the leader, eyes gleaming behind his mask.

"Indeed," he said calmly. "I heard your gang tried summoning an AI from the Blackwall."

The leader's laugh erupted harsh, deranged, echoing off the steel walls.

"Tried?" he scoffed. "Choom, we did everything. One of the crazed gonks from some distant crew has been planning a blood ritual to call down an AI. That lunatic should've just hit up the Voodoo Boys instead."

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"But whatever ritual it was, it didn't end well. And now? Now we've got you with your shiny toys knocking on our door. So, what's next, corpo?"

Xytheron leaned back slightly, sliding a sleek chip between his fingers like it was nothing. The Maelstrom leader narrowed his eyes, the red glow in them pulsing as he growled.

Maelstrom Leader: "So what you givin' us this shiny divine-grade chrome in exchange for some fraggin' chip?"

Xytheron chuckled, low and composed, before leaning forward and calmly slotting the chip into the laptop on the table. The screen flared to life.

What appeared wasn't code. Not even data. It was something else. Symbols that twisted, shifted, and pulsed like a heartbeat written in language the human mind wasn't meant to understand. The air felt heavier, colder.

Maelstrom Leader (brows furrowing, voice sharp): "...What the hell is that?"

Xytheron (smiling faintly): "An AI. One from beyond the Blackwall. A true anomaly. And I'm entrusting it to you."

Maelstrom Leader (standing suddenly, fists clenched): "You're outta your mind, corpo! NetWatch catches a whiff of this, they'll burn this place to ash and wipe our asses off the Net!"

Xytheron's voice dropped an octave no longer polite, now commanding.

Xytheron: "Listen, here. I didn't come here for debate. I came with an offer. You guard this AI. Don't touch it, don't poke it, don't pray to it. Just keep it safe."

He tapped the crate beside him. Inside racks upon racks of god-tier chrome, enough to turn a gutter punk into a walking god.

Xytheron (calmly): "In return, all this? Yours. And it won't be a one-time deal. I'll keep your whole damn crew swimming in chrome. All you have to do… is watch."