The night was quiet. Almost too quiet.
Jihu stood at the edge of the academy's private hangar bay, the steel doors towering before him like the gate to another life. The lights inside flickered dimly, automated systems running routine diagnostics on the high-tech spacecrafts docked within. The sleek frame of his newly acquired ship shimmered under the pale light, chrome reflecting the dim blues of the control panels. The air smelled faintly of ozone and engine coolant, a sharp contrast to the sterile scent of his quarters.
He stood motionless, hood drawn, gloves tightened. His breath was slow. Measured.
The victory had been everything the academy promised—a ship of advanced technology, awarded only to those deemed exceptional. But Jihu knew better.
**This wasn't a prize. It was a leash.**
He moved swiftly.
The door slid open with a low hiss as he stepped into the cockpit. The nanobot interface hummed to life.
> "Nanobot System: All systems online. Navigation prepped. No current alerts."
"Initiate silent launch protocol," Jihu whispered.
> "Acknowledged. Launching with cloaking and heat suppression."
The ship detached, rising silently from the dock. The thrusters vibrated beneath his feet with a barely perceptible purr. His heart beat in sync with the low hum of energy pulsing through the ship's core. His fingers grazed the console, cool to the touch. The dashboard flickered blue.
He was free.
Or so he thought.
---
### **The Pursuit**
Just as the stars came into view, the academy's lockdown alarm triggered—a blaring, red signal that painted the night in chaos.
> "Unauthorized launch detected. Class-A Guardian Protocols activated."
The Guardians.
From the atmosphere around the academy, three ships dropped like vultures, their engines screaming as they locked onto Jihu's signal. Blue and red lasers carved through the darkness, slamming into the void where he had just been.
Jihu's hands danced across the controls, and his ship spun with unnatural grace, ducking and weaving between streaks of plasma fire. The nanobots surged through the ship's interface, enhancing reaction time, trajectory corrections, and shield optimization.
> "Evasive Maneuvers engaged. Combat Evade Level 4 initiated."
"Too slow," Jihu muttered.
He angled the ship downward, skimming the planet's gravitational pull before flipping into a reverse roll and launching a series of decoy drones. The sudden burst of white noise and heat signatures scrambled the Guardians' targeting systems.
One fell behind.
The second fired a concussion blast that rocked Jihu's ship sideways, alarms screaming in his ears. Smoke filtered through a crack in the ventilation. The taste of burnt plastic filled his mouth.
His jaw clenched.
"I didn't come this far to die in my first hour of freedom."
He pushed harder. Nanobot-assisted piloting kicked in, the ship twisting in a maneuver only a perfect machine-human hybrid could survive.
> "Hyperdrive not yet available. Six percent hull damage."
A missile screamed past the hull, missing by inches. Jihu grit his teeth as the force rattled the ship.
> "Enemy lock disengaged. Pursuers decreasing."
But then, just as he cleared the moon's gravitational field—
> "Spatial anomaly detected."
A flicker in the fabric of space—an aurora-like spiral.
Jihu barely had time to react as his ship was dragged in.
---
### **The Wormhole**
The ship shook violently. Lights dimmed. Control panels short-circuited.
> "Gravitational anomaly. Time-space distortion in effect. Estimated wormhole classification: Omega-7."
Jihu was weightless. For a second, he was everywhere and nowhere. His vision split—past, present, and future fragmenting into a kaleidoscope of chaos. The AI's voice warped, distorted by the shift.
The temperature plummeted. The taste of iron clung to his tongue. His chest compressed like the air had turned to liquid.
Then, silence.
Total silence.
When the ship stabilized, and the vibrations ceased, Jihu slumped back into his seat. A long, ragged breath escaped his lungs.
> "Wormhole traversal successful. Coordinates unknown."
Outside, space stretched endlessly. But it wasn't the stars he knew. These constellations were alien—darker, twisted. The nearest sun glowed a sickly green.
> "Nearest planetary system: unregistered. No known return trajectory."
Jihu stared out at the alien cosmos, heart pounding.
**He was alone. Trapped on the edge of the universe.**
Yet his eyes didn't reflect fear. Not even despair.
They shimmered with something else.
**Determination.**
He whispered under his breath:
"Let's see what hell tastes like on this side of the stars."
---
To be continued...