“If this is the last sound my voice carries, let it be this: Midorikawa Corp. does not bow.”

  — General-Admiral Midorikawa Hirotaka during the system apocalypse

  The screen behind me told me everything I didn’t want to hear.

  [ALERT!]

  [INCURSION-GRAY: LEVEL 1-3]

  [EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY]

  Too late.

  People were already gone. I knew I shouldn’t have relied on that stupid AI or Palistra to actually have working siren. But I did anyway. Everyone did. It was baked into our bones… let the corpos handle it.

  Deep breath. “Okay, Dash,” I muttered. “It’s Gray. The lowest tier. Happens all the time. You’ve seen worse. Survived worse. Just like another day in the mines.”

  I shifted mental gears. Think of them as bugs, not invaders.

  Focused.

  Checked the rifle… coil held steady, indicator green.

  Checked the pistols… tape still holding, no hiss of gas.

  Tried the sword… smooth draw, sharp edge.

  I was locked in.

  Then, without warning, it ripped through.

  Right in the center of Ashford Terminal, space shivered like light on overheating metal... then split.

  A deep black tear cracked open mid-air, reality buckling like wet steel. From inside burst tendrils; thick, pulsing ropes of shadow, lined with spines and sparks of shifting color. They lashed out in all directions, slamming into walls, curling around railings, one darting down just meters from me.

  My heart tried to punch through my ribs.

  And then—

  [Attention! Emergency override! Initializing…]

  Not on a screen. Not on my HUD. It appeared in front of me... in the air.

  My mouth hung open, I was seeing a system window.

  THIS WAS A SYSTEM!

  [Emergency override! Initializing…]

  [System-Drain detected]

  [Requesting emergency pause…]

  [Pause declined. Automatic response: “Good try.”]

  [Searching for a solution…]

  [An emergency minor system initializing...]

  The tendrils started to materialize, but I was too far gone to care. My stomach twisted, someone had been draining me. All this time... I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t incompatible. I was just being robbed.

  Now confirmed.

  “I knew it,” I whispered, rage buzzing in my skull. “I fucking knew it.” All those months back at Creston System Prep. The looks after not getting system.

  The pity.

  Someone did this to me.

  [Congratulations! Minor system installed. Welcoming procedure skipped.]

  [Name: Dash]

  [Personal Trait: ERROR CAN’T DISABLE... REDIRECTING RESOURCES.... Personal Trait: Hoqalo]

  [Level: 1]

  [Attributes: ERROR, LACKING RESOURCES, aborting and using least demanding subsystem…]

  [Attributes: enhancing plugin v2.6-b; force set sol-warrior preset]

  [Skills: ERROR, LACKING RESOURCES]

  [...ERROR, MORE SYSTEM FUNCTIONS DISABLED]

  The surrounding tendrils thrashed and pulsed with energy. I’d seen that a few times, and hundreds of times before on Pulse… just not with a system interface burning in my vision.

  I couldn’t look away.

  [Personal Trait: Hoqalo]

  Description: Since the first sparks of the System, there have been those gifted not just with skill in battle, but with brilliance in creation. Hoqalo is the mark of such artisans, visionaries who forge weapons and tools infused with their very essence. Anything crafted by your hand may carry a power beyond the reach of others, but bound to your soul alone. To wield Hoqalo is to fight not only with strength, but with invention itself.

  The tear twisted.

  A tendril thicker than the rest slammed into the ground hard enough to crack the reinforced floor tiles. It didn’t lash like the others. It rooted… sinking in, pulsing like a muscle under strain.

  And from it, something formed.

  First the legs: towering, armored, blackening the surrounding air. Then the torso… broad, plated, clad in dark teal metal. Its surface warped the light, almost absorbing it. Like even photons didn’t want to touch it.

  The head came last.

  Except it didn’t stop at “head.”

  The thing kept rising until it stood three heads taller than Ricky, my old school teammate and the tallest bastard I’d ever met. Humanoid frame and vaguely male build. Shoulders wide enough to bench press a mining rig.

  Humanoid incursions were the worst, at least divers complained on the Pulse.

  In its hands held a double-sided axe, but each blade was curved outward like a crescent fang. Edges serrated, the inner sides glowing faint red with what looked like magic fire. The handle was spine-textured metal, wrapped in twisted black cloth that pulsed like veins.

  Above its head floated the words:

  [INCURSION G-4]

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The moment it solidified, it... he locked eyes with me. No delay for a roar or showboating. Just movement.

  He stepped forward—fast, impossibly fast for something that size—and I didn’t wait for a handshake. I dove sideways as the axe cleaved through the air where I’d just stood. The wind pressure alone nearly knocked me off my feet.

  “Holy shit—!”

  I rolled behind a dented food counter, shards of faux-glass clinking under my armor; scorch marks were already blooming from stray mana discharges, and the only people still in sight were wise enough to keep crawling toward the exits.

  I popped up and fired.

  BZT! BZT! BZT!

  Three shots from the rifle hit dead center mass.

  The plasma bolts slammed into his torso, one after the other, flaring with energy that singed the teal metal… and did absolutely nothing.

  He didn’t even flinch; only three glyphs briefly flashed on his armor. “Oh come on—!”

  I bolted again, weaving between tables, the rifle humming as it recharged between shots. A steel chipped beside me as the incursion’s axe carved a vertical line through a booth, slicing metal and synthfoam like meat.

  I turned and fired again, this time aiming for the neck seam.

  The shot landed.

  And barely scratched the surface, those damn glyphs flaring again, but that earned me a grunt… a low, sub-vocal growl, like an engine deciding whether to start. The incursion surged forward in a lunge, the axe sweeping sideways.

  I ducked under it and stumbled behind a pillar, panting. “Okay, okay. New plan. Explosive plan.”

  I yanked one of my pistols out and fired blindly over cover.

  PEW!

  The pathetic discharge buzzed like a child’s toy gun. I stared at the weapon. It stared back. Useless. It struck Incursion's shoulder, and the only reaction was the axe embedding itself two inches from my face, buried halfway through the pillar.

  I stared at the vibrating shaft.

  “Okay, you win!” I shouted, diving away again. I chucked the pistols to the ground and skidded across the floor to the far end of the eating area.wa

  There was only one chance left.

  I slapped my rifle’s side panel and engaged overcharge mode. A red light flared on the side, and the weapon began a slow, furious whine; charging coil spin-up, drawing power from both backup cells. I slung it back over my shoulder. It would take a few seconds, but if it hit...

  The monster was closing the gap.

  I drew my sword. The blade hissed softly as it left its scabbard, the polished edge catching the flicker of reinforced pillar lights as my heartbeat thudded through my fingers.

  He came at me with the axe high.

  I met him with steel.

  His first swing was wild… telegraphed, powerful, but off-balance in its weight. I sidestepped and slashed at his thigh seam, sparks flying as my sword clanged off the armor, glyphs flaring.

  No damage, but I’d slowed him.

  He spun and brought the axe down like I owed him taxes. I rolled, came up on a knee, and finally... the rifle pinged

  The overcharge was ready.

  I yanked the rifle off my shoulder. “Hey, asshole!” I shouted, bracing the rifle with both hands and leveling it at the now-exposed underarm joint. “How about you get a taste of—”

  BZZZT!

  The pulse was blinding. A supercharged stream of red-orange plasma erupted from the barrel like a solar flare in a bottle, punching into his chest with a sound like cracking thunder.

  Direct hit.

  The glyphs flared before shattering. Armor cracked, sizzled, and then ruptured, revealing something pale and wet beneath.

  The incursion screamed.

  Not a roar. A distorted shriek of pain. He staggered, limbs twitching, axe dragging against the ground.

  Now.

  I surged forward with the sword, vision blurred from the rifle’s recoil heat.

  He raised his weapon one last time.

  Too slow.

  I lunged and drove the blade through the exposed chest, right into the source of that flickering, dying light. I felt it pierce something soft, then grind through bone beneath.

  The incursion spasmed… full-body tremors that cracked tiles beneath him. His axe slipped from his hands. Then, in a delayed chain reaction, his chest erupted in a gout of blue-white fire as I hit something. Mana core?

  He dropped.

  One massive knee hit the floor. Then the rest of him collapsed, the double-axe tumbling with a hollow clang beside him.

  I stood there panting, the blade still in my hands. Soot on my face. Heartbeat in my ears.

  Then—

  [You earned experience!]

  [ERROR: SYSTEM DISABLED, ENABLE IT]

  I stared at the floating notification, mouth hanging open.

  The sword hung heavy in my grip, its edge blackened and slick with something that didn’t belong in any biology textbook. My rifle was a deadweight on my shoulder, barrel smoking faintly, the overcharge coil fused solid. My lungs heaved. My arms trembled. I felt wrung out, like someone had scooped out my insides and replaced them with molten slag.

  But I was alive.

  I staggered back a step, then looked up.

  And the air caught in my throat.

  The Ashford Terminal mall, once a chaotic mess of fleeing civilians, was now crawling.

  Dozens of tendrils had rooted into the shattered floor and walls, each one pulsing like a vein. And from them...

  They came. More of the same.

  I counted ten.

  Twenty.

  Stopped counting at forty… eighty, maybe more. Each towering, armored in that same oil-slick teal. Double-axes gleaming. Exotic swords. I even spotted staves. They didn’t roar or posture… they just were.

  Dread crashed over me like a collapsing tunnel wall.

  I’d barely survived one.

  The first one spotted me. Then two more turned. And then they all moved… eighty armored giants, synchronized.

  I backed up a step.

  Then two.

  There was nowhere left to run, but then something… fell.

  Correction... someone.

  A blur dropped from three floors up, red hair trailing behind like a comet’s tail. She landed hard, right on top of one of the advancing incursions. The impact sent a shockwave through the floor, and his body crumpled beneath her like cardboard under a boot, glyphs not even flaring.

  She was petite, barely five-foot-three, but the way she stood made height irrelevant; every motion was carved from violence. Her armor teal plates were traced with glowing yellow system glyphs that pulsed like restrained power. It fit her too well to be accidental.

  Her red hair was pulled into a tight braid, a single gold streak woven through it like a badge she hadn’t bothered to explain.

  The other incursions hesitated.

  She didn’t.

  With a flick of her wrist, three daggers appeared, shimmering into existence. She threw them mid-spin, each blade humming as it tore through the air.

  Three helmets punctured, and three bodies fell.

  The rest charged.

  She leapt, flipping backward onto a kiosk roof with effortless grace. Another dagger flick. Another fall. A blade ricocheted off an axe head and curved mid-air into a throat joint.

  Her feet touched down, and she was already gone… sliding under a wild swing, dagger flashing upward to stab straight into the gap under an enemy’s chin. She used his body to launch upward, twisting, parrying another strike mid-air with a short blade that looked almost decorative.

  Everything she touched died, because her daggers ignored the glyphs completely; she was cheating!

  It was like watching a storm made of knives.

  Even their size didn’t help. They were almost twice her height, but she was faster and meaner. She didn’t block their attacks; she redirected them. One axe blow landed hard enough to dent the Palistra table, and she spun through the spray of steel like a dancer, planting another dagger through her opponent’s visor as she landed.

  One of them tried to charge her directly.

  She stepped sideways, waited for the follow-up swing, then slammed her foot into his knee. Armor dented under the strike. She followed with a brutal upward slash and his helmet came off.

  So did half of his face.

  I stared absolutely speechless at her, and she noticed me. Her head snapped in my direction, crimson braid swinging behind her, with eyes locked on mine.

  She didn’t hesitate, and she looked furious.

  “RUN, IDIOT!” she shouted, eyes blazing.

  I blinked, stared and squinted. “...Sorry, Erika?”

  She turned toward me so fast her braid whipped around like a whip, and after checking my gear, her eyes widened. “Dash?!” she yelled, voice climbing two full octaves. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

  Before I could answer, her eyes caught something behind me.

  The body. The one I’d killed still smoldered from the rifle overcharge and sword-through-the-chest combo. “You got…? No, wait! What was the protocol?” She thought hard, her hand with a dagger on her chin.

  “Oh! Positioning!” She darted forward, kicking off the ground. In a flash, she was between me and them, blades out again… not to fight, but to shield.

  “I’ve got a C- in civilian protection. Try not to die on me; it ruins my grade.”

  TODAY’S CHAPTER IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY Midorikawa Corp

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