Dark gray航道 dust swirled outside the porthole of the salvage vessel Pioneer Seven🌌. I pressed my fingertip against the textured surface of a dagger just hauled from the Gamma‑9 dormant relic, and beneath my pad, the engraved patterns suddenly began to vibrate with a steady low‑frequency tremor🧿. As a deep‑space relic salvager with twelve years of experience, I’ve witnessed gravity mists that swallow entire exploration teams and touched alien artifacts that seem to whisper—but this one was entirely different: its vibration frequency precisely matched the neural oscillations of my own damaged nervous system from ten years ago. My employer offered triple the usual fee to have it sealed in a lead box and shipped back to the Holy Tribunal headquarters, strictly forbidding me from opening it before delivery🔒. Yet I couldn’t resist breaking the seal. Each crystal within the dagger’s lattice was subtly shifting in response to my neural signals, and slowly, ancient Galactic script emerged from the blade’s engravings: this dagger was forged by an ancient civilization as a vessel to contain the Star‑Kindred awakened in the void—and after traversing millennia across the stars, it had been searching all along for me, marked by that very kindred🗡️. Ten years ago, at the edge of Andromeda, I encountered that writhing, star‑crushing distortion; out of the entire team, only I survived. I’d always believed my survival was sheer luck—until now, when I realized I’d been chosen long ago as the anchor point for its return to the Galactic Core⚓️. This dagger isn’t a weapon to seal them—it’s a guiding talisman, helping them locate their anchor. Now, my finger bones are gradually turning into translucent crystalline matter, seamlessly merging with the dagger’s texture. The ship’s AI has just sounded an alarm: ahead on our course lies a gravitational anomaly defying all known physical laws🔭. Navigation logs indicate that this region should be completely empty.