I forcefully slid the Starframe Cold Blade into the sheath of my tactical boots🔪, my boot soles crunching over the crystallized void slime💧 on the wreckage of a starship, when suddenly a piercing mental hum echoed in my ears👂. In the deep-space wastelands of 2197, I am the last surviving Void Stalker, and this cold-white, matte-finish dagger was scavenged from a cryo-sleep pod at an alien research station⚡. The instant I gripped it, distorted void rifts🌌 flickered across my retinas, filled with countless shimmering stardust particles and fragmented remnants of shattered consciousness🔮. The station’s emergency lights flickered erratically, casting pale purple void mycelium🧟‍♂️ that had spread across the surrounding metal bulkheads; the comrade who moments ago had been scavenging supplies alongside me now sported an eerie grayish-blue hue, his eye sockets sunken like black holes, and as he lunged at me with a guttural roar, his fingernails had already transformed into razor-sharp bony barbs🦴. Instinctively, I drew the dagger and plunged it into his chest💥—the instant the blade penetrated, its white surface erupted in a faint blue fluorescence, and his scream abruptly ceased. But instead of blood, the wound spewed out starflakes✨ that glowed with a soft azure light. I stumbled backward, staring at the lingering starflakes on the blade, when a subtle tremor ran through my wrist📳—like something was crawling up the hilt and into my nerves—when suddenly the holographic projection in the cryo-sleep pod lit up, showing the captain’s image in fragments: “This is a void anchor… don’t let it…” Before he could finish, the projection shattered into tiny specks of light🌠. At that very moment, a low, resonant rumble emanated from the depths of the rift, and the dagger began to grow scorching hot. I knew then that there was no turning back🔦.