As the final blow landed on the alien, Alex allowed himself a brief moment of relief. But that relief was short-lived. The blue screen in his vision, which had been stable moments ago, now flickered ominously. The survival rate—a figure he'd come to rely on in the most dire situations—continued to drop, spiraling downward until it hit a dismal 5%.
His heart pounded as he turned around, eyes scanning the now-silent chamber for the source of the threat. It didn't take long for him to notice the new figure emerging from an opened gate, stepping into the chamber with an unsettling calmness. The figure wore a black mask, obscuring his face, but the aura of danger was unmistakable. Alex's breath caught in his throat as recognition dawned on him.
That mask... It was the same one worn by Althea's special force unit—elite soldiers tasked with handling the most dangerous missions. Alex had only seen them a few times in his past life, and each encounter had left a lasting impression. These were not people to be trifled with. They were the best of the best, relentless, and nearly unstoppable.
The man walked with purpose, his steps echoing ominously in the chamber. He approached the remains of the Void Stalker without sparing Alex a glance, bending down to retrieve something from its shattered body. An orb—glowing faintly with residual energy. The man examined it briefly, then let out a sigh.
"A failure too," he muttered, his voice low and devoid of emotion. He let the orb drop to the ground, where it rolled a few inches before coming to a stop.
Finally, the man turned his attention to Alex, who had remained frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. The black mask obscured the man's face, but Alex could feel his gaze piercing through him as if seeing straight into his soul.
"You," the man said, his voice carrying an edge of familiarity that sent chills down Alex's spine. "You remind me of someone."
The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Alex's mind raced, trying to place where he had heard that voice before, where he had felt this overwhelming sense of dread. The man's hand moved slowly to the mask, and with deliberate calm, he pulled it off.
Alex's blood ran cold.
The man standing before him, now revealed, was someone he had known all too well in his past life. The one who had betrayed him, the one who had killed him when he had been known as Alexander Von Archaime. The man who had been his vice-commander, his most trusted ally—Reynolds.
Reynolds' expression remained impassive as he looked down at Alex, who was now trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. There was no sign of recognition in Reynolds' eyes, no hint that he remembered the bond they once shared. To him, Alex was just another obstacle, another piece in whatever twisted game he was playing.
"It doesn't matter," Reynolds said coldly, dismissing whatever thoughts had crossed his mind. "Your world will be destroyed in the invasion, after all."
With that, Reynolds turned his back on Alex and began to walk away, leaving the chamber through the same gate he had entered. He didn't look back, didn't acknowledge the devastation he had just wrought on Alex's psyche.
Alex's legs gave out beneath him, and he plopped down onto the cold, hard ground. The chamber spun around him, his vision blurring as the weight of what had just happened crashed down on him. He barely noticed the bile rising in his throat until it was too late, and he retched, the contents of his stomach splattering onto the ground beside him.
He couldn't believe it. Reynolds. Here. Alive. Working with the very enemies that he fought against. The man who had betrayed and killed him in his past life was now an ally of the aliens, orchestrating the destruction of this world just as he had done before. There are no aliens in Alexander's world. No, it can't be, why do you need alien invasions if the war already rampaging?
Tears stung the corners of Alex's eyes, a mix of anger, fear, and helplessness overwhelming him. He had thought he was prepared for anything, but this—this was beyond anything he could have anticipated.
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He had vowed never to be caught off guard again, never to let his guard down. But now, faced with the ghost of his past, he felt as vulnerable as the day he had died.
Alexius' voice echoed faintly in his mind, a reminder of the strength he still had, the resolve he couldn't afford to lose. But the fear lingered, gnawing at the edges of his sanity.
Reynolds was here. And that meant the worst was yet to come.
*****
Alex sat on the cold, rocky ground in front of the now-closed gate entrance, his breathing gradually returning to a more regular pace. The chamber was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint hum of residual energy from the gate's destruction. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and dread, but he forced himself to focus on the present. There was still a task to be completed, and he needed to regain his composure.
As he took a moment to collect himself, a presence made itself known—a divine, ethereal aura that seemed to fill the space with an almost palpable tension. From the shadows, the Mesopotamian god, the Scorpion Man (Aqrabuamelu), emerged. His form was imposing yet regal, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
The god surveyed Alex with a mixture of respect and intrigue. "You have done well," he said, his voice resonating like a deep rumble. "You faced the trials and dealt with the threat with commendable resolve."
Alex looked up, his eyes meeting the god's with a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. "Thank you," he replied quietly, unsure of what to make of this unexpected encounter. The god's presence was both a relief and a reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.
The god continued, "I must offer you a blessing for your efforts." With a graceful gesture, he extended a hand, and a warm, golden light enveloped Alex, filling him with a soothing energy. The light seemed to heal some of his weariness, restoring a sense of strength and clarity. "This blessing will aid you in your battles to come."
Alex felt the divine energy infusing him, a welcome respite from the chaos he had endured. The god's presence, though intimidating, was comforting in its own way. But before Alex could fully appreciate the blessing, the god's expression shifted, his tone becoming more somber.
"However," the god said, "I must advise you not to be easily tricked by Hermes again. That god is a bad influence, one who revels in mischief and deceit. His games and schemes are not to be trusted."
Alex frowned, the memory of Hermes' intrusion and the ensuing chaos flashing through his mind. "I've learned that lesson the hard way," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I thought I could trust him, but it seems his motives are far from straightforward."
The god nodded, a gesture that seemed almost sympathetic. "Yes, Hermes has a way of manipulating others for his amusement or advantage. It's best to be cautious around him and not let his charming facade deceive you."
Alex sighed, a mix of relief and weariness settling over him. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the warning and the blessing."
With that, the Mesopotamian god gave a final, approving nod before vanishing back into the shadows, leaving Alex alone once more. The chamber was quiet again, the only sign of the god's presence the lingering warmth of the blessing.
[Divine Resilience]
As Alex stood up, he felt a renewed sense of determination. The battle was far from over, and the challenges ahead were daunting. But with the god's blessing and the knowledge of what to expect, he felt more prepared to face whatever came next.
He turned away from the gate entrance, ready to continue his journey. The weight of the day's events still pressed on him, but he was resolved not to let them break him. With a final glance at the now-closed gate, Alex set off, his mind focused on the path ahead and the trials that awaited him.
*****
Alex returned to his home, exhausted and worn from the recent ordeal. He entered the house to find Alexius waiting for him, visibly agitated. The cat's fur bristled as he stared at Alex, clearly upset about his disappearance and the trouble caused by Hermes.
Alex took a deep breath and began recounting his encounter with Hermes, omitting the part about Reynolds. He described the scorpion god, the dangerous ruins, and the masked man who had appeared. As he spoke, Alexius's irritation grew, his tail flicking back and forth.
"Reynolds," Alex murmured, breaking the silence. "Do you know anything about a person named Reynolds?"
Alexius's eyes narrowed. "Reynolds? Yes, he's one of the generals of the invasion forces. Why do you ask?"
Alex hesitated, then shook his head. "It's not important. Just... never mind."
Alexius, sensing the change in Alex's demeanor, decided not to press further. He let out a resigned sigh and went back to his spot, curling up as if to sleep. "Fine. Just don't let it happen again."
Alexius's irritation faded as he relaxed, the tension in the room dissipating. Alex, however, remained troubled by the recent events. He trudged to the bathroom, his mind still reeling from the confrontation and the revelation of Reynolds's identity.
He turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over him. As he stood under the stream, he tried to wash away the grime of the day, both physical and mental. The water was soothing, but his thoughts were far from calm. Memories of his friends and comrades surfaced, their faces flashing before him. The realization that Reynolds, once an ally, had become his enemy gnawed at him.
The minutes ticked by as Alex remained under the shower, lost in his thoughts. The water turned from warm to cool, but he didn't notice. His mind wandered through the past, reflecting on the friendships he once had, the camaraderie he now missed.
Eventually, the exhaustion took its toll. Alex's legs grew weak, and he found himself sinking to the floor of the shower, sitting beneath the running water. His eyes grew heavy, and despite the discomfort, he fell asleep there, curled up in a fetal position.
The bathroom was quiet except for the sound of the dripping faucet and the faint echoes of Alex's quiet breathing. When Alexius finally came to check on him, he found him sleeping in the bathtub, a pained expression still visible on his face even in slumber. The cat's annoyance softened into concern, and he quietly padded over to nudge Alex awake.
"Come on," Alexius meowed softly. "Get out of the shower and get some proper rest."
Alex stirred, groggy and disoriented. With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of the tub, wrapping himself in a towel. He gave Alexius a weary glance, then shuffled to his bed, feeling the weight of his emotions more than ever.
As he lay down, he resolved to face whatever came next with a renewed determination. He had come far, and despite the setbacks and the shadow of Reynolds looming over him, he would not falter. The battle was far from over, and Alex knew he had to remain steadfast for whatever lay ahead.