Her stellar core was a modest sphere of contained power, an ocean of plasma pulsing with living energy, but instead of overwhelming me, it enveloped me with an intimate and melancholic presence, stealing my breath with its humble majesty. Its surface glowed with a deep red radiance, a warm and subdued glow that evoked the embers of an ancient fire on the verge of extinction, tinged with soft orange hues, like the diluted amber of an eternal twilight in a distant world.
This radiance extended in subtle waves, barely perceptible, brushing the surrounding darkness with an almost reverent tenderness, as if the star itself feared disturbing the stillness that enveloped it. From this burning heart, light spilled outward, weaving a mantle of liquid fire that wrapped Mica's form in contained warmth, as if the very soul of the star overflowed with reverence.
The flames were not a wild chaos, but a controlled ballet, dancing in patterns that suggested a newly conquered balance, as if the star had learned to tame its wild energy after the chaotic tumult of its creation. This glow, intense yet never dazzling, invited admiration rather than fear, unfolding tones that oscillated between warm amber and deep red, reminiscent of embers flickering in the penumbra of an eternal twilight.
Around its surface, fine currents of gas and dust could be discerned, relics of the accretion disk that had nourished it during its gestation. These currents rose like delicate threads of reddish mist, tinged with a muted orange hue, swirling with a hypnotic slowness that seemed to whisper echoes of its birth. In some spots, small eruptions of light burst forth like sparks escaping a celestial forge, fleeting flashes that reached a vivid red before merging back into the general glow, as if the star exhaled its first breaths of life.
The newly born star did not reign in solitude. From its poles, fine jets of silver light, faintly tinged with a reddish reflection, rose toward the void, like spears sculpted by a warrior claiming his throne among the cosmos with serene strength. These jets extended with an almost ethereal grace, cutting through the darkness like rivers of liquid light that faded into the distance. Around its base, a faint halo of residual gas swirled with reverent slowness, a spectral ring that seemed an ethereal crown, its diffused glow blending reddish and orange tones with the surrounding penumbra.
An incessant flow of energy and charged particles enveloped its core, weaving an atmosphere of extreme turbulence, as if a storm raged within, barely contained by an indomitable will that seemed to sustain it in its fragility. It was an object of fascinating paradoxes: immense in its power, yet fragile in its balance; infinitely vast in its presence, yet confined within an infinitely small space.
The question that formed in my mind made me shudder: What was she really? What level of power had this woman achieved?
I knew that a star only formed at Level 5, after a grueling process in which the Illuminated had to patiently condense three rings of pure energy around a cloud of stellar dust, containing its vibrant essence to prevent it from dissipating into the void. Over time, this contained mass collapsed under its own force, giving birth to a protostar that burned within its own being, an act of creation as powerful as it was sacred.
This made it clear, beyond any shadow of doubt, that she had reached at least that transcendental level, a status that granted her the coveted title of Ranker among the Illuminated, an elite revered in their world. Her power was such that she could face a third-evolution creature alone.
A burning curiosity ignited in my chest, mingled with a shiver of warning that ran down my spine. My survival instincts screamed at full volume that Mica was dangerous beyond all comprehension, a force of nature that could crush me with the same ease she had destroyed that Necrophage, if she so desired.
Damn it, I even doubted I could last a single second in combat against her. But… I couldn't worry about that. Besides, I couldn't let an innocent girl remain unsaved. I knew she wouldn't kill me. At least, I wanted to believe in that slim possibility.
—They're after the money, right? Please, let this girl go. She's innocent —I pleaded, using the only weapon I could wield against her, which was also my greatest specialty: words. As long as I could talk, I was certain I wouldn't lose to anyone.
—Reinhardt, didn't you say something about not killing innocents, right? —Mica approached the warehouse in front of us and, with a powerful kick, broke the steel lock and opened the thick door—. Will you say the same after seeing this?
The door swung inward, revealing an almost total darkness, like the maw of a hungry wolf. From where I stood, I couldn't see anything beyond the shadows.
—Look. This is the darkness of Sherazade —she said with a voice devoid of emotion.
Intrigued by her words, I approached the warehouse with slow, cautious steps. A bad premonition gripped my chest like an iron fist. My conscience screamed that I shouldn't see what lay inside, but my steps didn't stop, driven by a morbid curiosity I couldn't control.
At last, I saw what I had so feared.
The smell of death and decay hit me like a wave, forcing me to cover my mouth and nose to avoid vomiting. My legs trembled as I tried to process what I saw.