My fingertip brushed across the warm, gradient facets of the dagger’s blade; cosmic radiation streaming in from outside had softened the pale pink handle into a hazy, nebula-like hue. Three years ago, as an interstellar scavenger, I found it among the wreckage of a crashed exploration vessel. Its previous owner was the captain of the Galactic Union’s exploration team; on her shattered data panel remained only half a line of her log: “It can cut through bedrock, it can pierce encrypted signal shields—but it cannot cut…”⚫. At the time, I dismissed it as rambling madness caused by radiation‑induced brain damage, treating it merely as a handy pocket knife. I carried it on hundreds of scavenging missions, never suspecting it held any special significance—until this job, when I took on a private assignment to infiltrate a sealed, dead‑quiet asteroid and extract an anomalous core mineral. Even my alloy drill bits shattered three times. With no other options left, I drew this dagger and drove it deep into a crack in the crystalline wall 🗡️. To my astonishment, the dense crystal wall, infused with dark energy, split open with a thunderous roar, like butter melting under heat. Only then did I see that deep within the asteroid’s core lay half a starship—belonging to no known star system. The patterns etched onto its hull perfectly matched the dagger’s faceted edges, and the ship’s forward hatch began to turn slowly, opening wide. My palm, gripping the handle, was already slick with cold sweat🔑. It wasn’t until now that I realized: this was never just some forgotten trinket. It was a key, waiting for centuries amid the debris—waiting for someone to bring it back here, to awaken whatever lies sealed behind that door, hidden for a hundred thousand years🌌.