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Chapter 2 - Chapter 1: Baptism by Fire

The air inside the starship's narrow corridors was thick and suffocating—tinged with the bitter smell of burning circuits and scorched metal. Alarms blared incessantly, their shrill cries bouncing off the steel walls like ghosts of an impending doom. Flickering red lights cast chaotic shadows that danced wildly as if mocking the chaos that unfolded.

Arvan Frax pressed his back flat against the cold bulkhead, trying desperately to still his racing heart. Every muscle in his body screamed to run, but the maze of unfamiliar passageways held him captive. Panic clawed at his chest, constricting his breath. The voices echoing through the ship's comm system were a distant blur—frantic orders, cries for help, static.

A sudden roar shattered the fragile silence, and from the darkness ahead emerged a monstrous silhouette. It moved with unnatural speed, limbs twisting and elongating in ways that defied biology. This was no creature Arvan had ever encountered—no mere beast from Earth's wilderness, but a nightmare forged in the cold depths of an alien universe. Its eyes glowed a hellish red, locked onto him like prey.

Arvan's breath caught in his throat. I'm not ready. I don't know what to do.

But there was no time for hesitation.

The creature lunged forward, claws outstretched to rend flesh and bone. Arvan barely had time to react, thrusting out his trembling hand in desperation. A thin veil of psychic energy shimmered in the air—a flickering barrier that barely slowed the oncoming assault.

The impact slammed him backward with brutal force, sending him skidding along the metal floor. Pain blossomed across his ribs, sharp and unyielding. He coughed, tasting blood, but refused to give in.

His mind raced—he was no warrior. He wasn't a hero from the stories he'd spent years devouring in Purbalingga's cramped boarding room. Back then, his greatest battles were in the pages of novels, the pixels of games. Now, his survival depended on instincts sharpened by desperation and fragments of knowledge gleaned from fictional universes.

Think. Use what you know.

His gaze flicked to a damaged control panel sparking nearby. A plan—a fragile hope—formed in his mind. The creature snarled, advancing again, its maw dripping with acid-like saliva.

Arvan clenched his fists, gathering the faint psychic energies coursing beneath his skin. A pulse of raw force shot from his palm, striking the control panel. Electrical arcs erupted, igniting a brilliant explosion that momentarily blinded the beast.

Seizing the moment, Arvan scrambled to his feet, breath ragged but spirit ignited. The creature staggered but quickly recovered, eyes narrowing with renewed fury.

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the chaos over the comms, garbled but unmistakable.

"Frax! This is Lieutenant Soren. If you're alive, head to the armory—ship's core breach imminent. We need all hands on deck!"

Arvan's heart pounded louder. The armory. A beacon of hope—or a trap.

The creature was already charging again, its clawed feet pounding the floor with earth-shaking force. With no better option, Arvan sprinted down the corridor, every step fueled by adrenaline and raw fear. His breath came in ragged gasps; sweat stung his eyes, but he refused to look back.

His thoughts tumbled chaotically.

Who am I now? Arvan Frax... not Arfan Prasetya anymore. This body, these powers—they're alien to me. But knowledge is power, right? What did I read about Esgod's abilities? Adaptation. Copying. But I only have a fraction, and it's unstable.

As he rounded a corner, the corridor split into multiple passages. Dim emergency lights flickered overhead, making shadows leap and warp like specters. The creature's snarls echoed behind him—hungry, relentless.

Arvan's vision sharpened; a whisper in his mind warned him of unstable spatial folds nearby—an echo of his dimensional sensing ability. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, tentatively manipulating the rift in front of him. The air twisted, a shimmering portal opening for a split second.

Without fully understanding how, he leapt through.

He landed hard on the other side, pain radiating from his shoulder but alive.

The portal snapped shut behind him, buying precious seconds.

The ship shuddered violently. Something deep inside groaned and cracked.

Arvan realized the core breach wasn't just a warning—it was imminent destruction.

Another roar sounded, this time multiplied. More creatures—twisted, mechanical abominations—were flooding the ship.

He was alone. Outnumbered. Ill-prepared.

Yet, deep within, a fire burned—a stubborn refusal to be extinguished.

With trembling hands, he conjured a sphere of psychic energy. It pulsed faintly, unstable but potent enough to serve as a barrier.

As the first wave charged, Arvan steadied himself.

This was no longer a game. This was real.

This was survival.

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