CHAPTER 45: COSMIC SICKNESS

Standing there for a minute, he didn’t relish in the victory he claimed over the creature, only pondering the state of the current mission. He wished for the wellbeing of his comrades before fortifying his mental state, glancing at the robot perched on his shoulder.

"Alright, did you pinpoint where Shin was heading?" Seven asked.

"Yup–beginning guidance!"

Using the top of buildings, he maneuvered through the city under the directions of the advanced artificial intelligence. Sprinting across one rooftop, he leapt from the edge onto another, keeping up the pace.

As he moved quickly, the communicator in his ear lightly hissed before transmitting, "//Seven, this is General Faust.//"

"Yup, hear ya," Seven answered while staying on the move.

"//I’m sure you’ve been in contact with your peers already, but the object you’re heading towards–it seems our extraterrestrial enemies are guarding it quite extensively. We’ve picked up intense energy readings emanating from it–a cube of some sort. Whatever it is, they want it and don’t want us near it–make sure they don’t get what they want.//"

"On it," he responded.

The wind brushed through his hair as he kicked off the ledge of a skyscraper, leaping onto the next summit as his boots met a slick, glass surface.

It was hard to imagine something on his planet that the Fulminare would want, when compared to their territory, Earth was nothing more than a grain of sand.

’Just what do they want here?’ He questioned to himself, holding onto the antenna at the summit of the skyscraper.

The high-altitude wind roared, brushing through his hair before he set forward, sliding down the other side of the glass surface.

"How much farther?" Seven asked as he leapt, letting his body traverse dozens of meters in the air before landing to the next building.

Izo beeped, "Just a few more blocks, it seems to be near the Aurora Resort—"

The robot’s words met his ears as he crossed the roof of the structure, getting a clear view of the luxurious resort, or at least, what used to be a breathtaking sight. He stood there, somewhat dumbfounded by what his eyes found: there was a complete absence of buildings entirely in the entire vicinity, only a smooth, gravel wasteland, perfectly circled off.

"Tell me, Izo, right up ahead–that’s supposed to be Aurora, right?" He asked in quiet shock.

"It is...I don’t have anything in my database about it having been taken down," Izo answered.

The hollow territory was so cleanly isolated that the neighboring structures were perfectly halved, as if everything within the perimeter was simply erased. It was difficult to see anything within the zone, as if the air around it contorted, compressing and morphing the scenery within.

Seven tapped his earpiece, "Alright, this is Seven. I’m near the mission point–it seems to be within some kind of distortion."

"//Reading. It’s Haoyu,//" the engineer’s voice popped through the receiver. "//I’m watching through Izo right now. By my best guess, it’s a spatial distortion. Shin made contact, but–"

"But?"

"//He’s gone radio silent. It’s not part of the General’s objective, but, Seven...//"

"I’ve got it. I’ll find him in there," Seven acknowledged, looking ahead towards the distortion.

He brought himself to the street, finding yet another peculiarity: countless cars were stacked on one another, smashed into nothing more but vague metal posed like a wall around the warped territory.

There was a distinct smell in the air the closer he got to the distorted zone; like that of cinnamon, burning his nostrils. He stepped directly in front of the threshold where a perfect line was carved through the asphalt, looking ahead through the blurred space, only seeing gray air and sediment.

The robot beeped, "There’s no telling what’s waiting on the other side. It goes without saying, but caution is of utmost importance here."

"Yeah."

An encouraging breath was brought into his lungs as he took the first stride, crossing the boundary into the unknown. Immediately, it was different; the air was thinner, as if standing at the peak of a mountaintop.

The scenery was entirely different from what was viewed outside; collapsed buildings, coated in a black, stringy substance. Drifting in the air, black pollen like that of ash created a bleak snowfall.

Across the ground, carpeted in the ashen substance, the lifeless bodies of inhuman creatures laid. Nearest to him was the corpse of a purple-skinned, muscular humanoid, torn in half with black goo clinging to its intestines.

"Are you getting this, Izo?" Seven asked.

"Connection lost to main servers. I’m recording, but none of it is being relayed currently," Izo said.

"No connection? Well, I’m not surprised," he muttered, taking careful steps.

Beneath his boots, the black, snow-like material crumbled like leaves at the peak of autumn. The bodies of the extraterrestrial invaders were not as hopeful a sign as he would hope, leaving him in the dark.

"What the hell happened here? Some kind of misfiring of a weapon, maybe?" He audibly questioned.

"It doesn’t seem to be one accident. Due to the variety of injuries, it would seem this wasn’t an instantaneous eradication, but a continuous massacre," Izo analyzed. "Perhaps there was infighting, or perhaps something else–"

"Wait," Seven quietly said, looking ahead.

A collapsed fountain sat in the near distance, though he was keenly locked onto what was leaning against the brittle stone.

The golden skin was unmistakable, equipped in a white-and-blue uniform. Seeing the large humanoid left barren of life, still dripping blood from the lacerations on his body, was a perplexing sight.

"A Fulminare...Izo, analyze it," he ordered, stepping closer cautiously.

As he placed himself before the dead, otherworldly warrior, the pint-sized bot left his shoulder, using its discerning light to scan the corpse. In the right hand of the Fulminare was a bejeweled claymore that looked to be etched in sapphires.

’Just how the hell did a Fulminare die here? Even if there was some sort of revolt from the forces here...I doubt they’d be able to bring down a Fulminare,’ he questioned.

After a minute, the robot provided an answer, "The lacerations are superficial, at most. The cause of death for this one was a gash to the neck, leading to fatal blood loss. By the marks on the weapon, my best theory is that the one that killed the Fulminare was himself."

"He did it to himself? But why?" Seven questioned, lightly shaking his head.

"I do not know; I apologize," Izo responded. "Seven, I’m getting readings of an energy source up ahead–I believe it’s the one the General pointed out."

"Right," he said, getting one more look at the fallen Fulminare, keeping the image in his head as he moved on.

It was down a dip into a crater within the isolated section of the city that the source of the readings was found–a colossal, pitch-black cube. Just one side of it was as large as a four story building, emanating a pulse that made the air vibrate.

"What is that?" He mumbled.

With slow steps, the cube was approached as he placed himself in front of him. Standing there, the sheer scale of the peculiar object sank in as he looked up, reaching his hand out. He allowed his palm to feel the surface–

"Ngh..." He winced, feeling a stinging headache the moment he made contact.

["--The truth–see it."]

Bringing his gaze up, his vision was distorted, seeing something within the cube as if examining it with an x-ray; a curled-up silhouette, slumbering within its hold.

"What’s...?"

As his curiosity laid at the forefront of his mind, a warm sensation trickled down from his nostril to the top of his lip. He reached his hand up, wiping his lip to find blackened blood on his glove.

[Lethal exposure to radiation detected within the body. Cellular degradation occurring–adapting cells to combat radiation sickness.]

Just as the system notified him of the bleak condition, he felt a swirl in his gut before hurling, spitting out clumps of dark blood, "Hrrf!--"

"Seven! Hey, Seven! What’s going on!? Talk to me!" Izo hurriedly pleaded, hovering in front of him.

There was no chance to speak a single word as he collapsed to his knees, clutching at his throat before another litre of the decrepit bile was expelled from his stomach.

"I’m dying," the thought repeated in his mind.

[Blood cells compromised – Structural integrity of internal organs compromised. Adjusting, strengthening, adapting.]

All he could do was gasp and vomit, having no control over his bodily functions while his cells fought to adapt faster than he could degrade. His skin bubbled and peeled, his bones turned to liquid, and his organs decomposed, yet just as quickly, his cells were fortified, rebuilding as quickly as they were changed.

–Seconds.

–Minutes.

–Hours.

He was unsure of how long he laid there, helpless, coiling up and writhing in agony as he consciously decomposed and rebuilt. As he laid there, his body fought–one arm suddenly enlarged tenfold, developing red scales that cracked and split.

[@&^...Att3mpt1ing genetic adapt@t1i0n.((]

"Guaaaah...!"

A hollow cry escaped his lips as his body convulsed, arching as his entire physique suddenly expanded, his chest pushed out and his legs stretching. It happened quickly, violently–his bones stretched, his flesh extended.

From his complexion flashing from pale to dark, from red to blue; his skin grew crystalline armor, secreted acid, and exhaled toxins.

["My consciousness...It’s slipping. The pain—too overwhelming. Fading—"]

"Seven!—" The robot shouted.

Any cries of the desperate, artificial being were intercepted by the eruption of the young man’s form.

["On March Fifteenth, 2030, at roughly 10:47 P.M, the soldier known as "Seven" died."]