Keldric stood, his stance tall and firm, like that of a seasoned warrior. His eyes were focused on the infinite darkness behind the entrance to the security center. In his right hand was an ornate Zweihander, a double-edged broadsword burning with an ethereal blue-white flame—Oathkeeper, his artifact weapon. The air was thick and heavy, laden with the smell of iron and the acrid stench of burned circuitry. Moving shadows created by the orbiting red globe of the emergency lighting made his hair stand on end.


    Eerie. Too quiet for how many corrupted we''ve encountered.


    The room was a vast open space, with lockers lining the wall on his left; most of them were open and empty of the equipment they usually held. Benches lined the other three walls, each of which had a map of different portions of the ship above them. Monitors displayed damaged areas, activated airlocks, and parts of the ship that were scuttled, along with a countdown indicating how long each section had left before it joined the others in the murky depths.


    The temperature had been steadily dropping for the past hour, life support systems failing one by one. Keldric could see his breath now, small puffs of vapor that dissipated in the crimson light. His military instincts catalogued every detail, forming defensive strategies for each possible entry point.


    "They''re still coming," a security officer reported, eyes fixed on a monitoring station connected to cameras that miraculously still functioned. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold. "At least twenty corrupt personnel are headed this way from Sector D3. They''re moving in formation, sir, not like the random shambling we saw earlier."


    Keldric nodded, his face grim and focused. His eyes showed nothing but courage, burning with determination. The tactical part of his mind quickly assessed their position, personnel, and defensive options. "We hold this position until the last of the escape pods have been used, then we proceed to the bridge once our team has released the airlocks in the maintenance tunnel." He took a deep breath, allowing the metallic air to awaken his senses and sharpen his mind.


    The noble youth, Darius, another of the Chosen Ones, gave an exasperated sigh. His eyes dropped to the floor, his voice riddled with disappointment. "This is madness. We should be finding our way to the bridge, not protecting these... apparitions! They aren''t real!"


    "They''re people," Keldric replied firmly and unyieldingly. "Frightened people who deserve protection. Whether they''re ''real'' or historical echoes doesn''t matter right now." He looked around at the terrified crew members huddled in the corners of the security center. "Protecting them is my calling. It''s what I was made for."


    The scholarly woman, Rehala, the third Chosen One of their group, chimed in, "We may be able to make it through the maintenance shaft. It''s only wide enough for us to go one at a time, but it should bring us to the bridge and avoid the worst of the corruption." Her eyes were thoughtful, rather than frightened, despite the cowardice of her suggestion.


    Keldric turned to respond right as the sound of cracking glass reached their ears. His reply would have to wait; they were out of time. Dark masses were barely visible in the depths of the dark corridor.


    "Prepare for combat!" Keldric shouted, the authority in his voice stirring even the terrified to action. "Form a defensive line! Those of you with weapons, to the front! Everyone else, fall back and prepare to evacuate when we give the signal!"


    Oathkeeper''s flame grew brighter as he raised it to a readied position. The blue-white fire illuminated more of the room, pushing back the oppressive shadows. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, a multitude of tight cables moving in fluid motion. Breathing in a perfect rhythm, calm and steady, he was prepared.


    Silence filled the air. The shadows that had been moving in the tunnel leading to the security office stopped, seeming to hover at the edge of the light cast by Oathkeeper. Their outlines started to merge with the darkness, seeming to vanish into this air.


    What are they doing? Keldric analyzed the unusual behavior. They''ve always attacked without hesitation before. This is coordinated, strategic. They''re assessing our defenses. His years of tactical training recognized the behavior immediately - this wasn''t mindless corruption but something with intelligence behind it.


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    Oathkeeper hummed, feeding on Keldric''s steadfast determination to protect these "apparitions" as one of the others had put it. Keldric felt the weight of his sword lessen in his hands, the edge of the blade growing sharper. The flame burned brighter in response to his protective resolve.


    Then all hell broke loose.


    A mass of steel hurled through the air right at him, threatening to crush him under the weight. Oathkeeper came down, effortlessly slicing through the projectile, cutting it in half and sending the pieces hurtling around him on either side. The cut through steel glowed, the molten metal a bright orange color where the blade had struck. The ethereal blue-white hue lit up Keldric from head to toe, a stark contrast to the deep red that cascaded across everything else.


    Five figures rushed from the darkness, their inhuman speed rendering them a blur. They were humanoid in shape, with two arms and two legs, but the vile black crystals had twisted their bodies.


    Their limbs had been merged with the firearms they had carried when the corruption took over. Uniforms, flesh, and onyx blended in a disturbing distortion of their original forms. They moved with unusual precision and coordination, not the mindless scrambling Keldric had witnessed up to this point. He recognized their movement patterns instantly - standard Sentinel formation tactics, adapted for their twisted bodies.


    They''re retaining their training. The corruption isn''t just taking their bodies; it''s using their knowledge.


    As the five charged, a sixth appeared in the background, its vicious maw spread from ear to ear, and viscous saliva fell to the floor.


    The most shocking thing, however, was what happened next.


    It talked.


    "Join us, brothers. Transformation awaits us all." Its voice was deep, its tone low; the sounds of fracturing glass and a high-pitched screech merged in the background as it spoke.


    While the others were paralyzed, Keldric moved without hesitation. Oathkeeper became a blur as he swung the blade. He caught the first abomination in the chest, cleanly cutting the beast in two. Unlike Lyara''s beautiful rapier, Oathkeeper did not spare the host. Each strike was lethal.


    What made it worse was that these people weren''t entirely consumed. You could still see signs of consciousness in some of their eyes. He recognized one of them - a security officer he''d shared a meal with mere hours ago, now more monster than human.


    Each kill weighed on Keldric, but he knew he had no choice. Not just for his own survival, but for the dozens of frightened crew members behind him. He''d been a protector all his life; it was ingrained in his very being. The Maw had chosen him for this exact quality.


    He struck down three in rapid succession; however, instead of thinning the creatures'' numbers, they swelled. More poured in from the darkness, surrounding Keldric and the small security team that had joined the fight.


    "You can''t defeat us alone, warrior of the Maw," the mysterious anomaly mocked. The guttural laugh that followed was enough to make anyone''s bones ache.


    Keldric continued to fight furiously, analyzing the corrupted entities'' movement patterns even as he battled them. They were learning, adapting to his fighting style with each exchange. He changed tactics, using sweeping strikes where before he had thrust, high attacks where he had gone low. Oathkeeper responded to his intentions, its flame shifting and focusing to maximize damage against the corruption.


    Metal clashed against metal, and the weapons fused into the limbs of the soldiers held against the massive blade. Unlike the mundane steel he had sliced through earlier, this amalgamation of metal and corruption was able to resist the flaming broadsword.


    Extra limbs sprouted from the back of one of the crew; four whip-like tendrils zipped towards him.


    All four pierced Keldric, one in each shoulder and one in each hip. He fell to his knees, swinging his Oathkeeper in a wide arc, severing each tendril, pushing himself back from the onslaught. He sliced horizontally, blue flame streaking across the room as he severed two corrupted heads from the bodies they were attached to.


    Four more lunged; he wasn''t going to last much longer. The crew members behind him were screaming now, the noble youth and scholarly woman looked on in horror, seemingly frozen by fear.


    As the walls closed in and escape from death seemed impossible, Keldric felt something materializing in his left hand - a small white horn, made of bone with beautiful silver inlays that shifted patterns as he looked at it. The knowledge of what it was and how to use it flowed into his mind, not as words but as intuitive understanding.


    "Commander''s Voice," he whispered, the name appearing in his thoughts as naturally as if he''d always known it.


    He brought the horn to his lips and blew.


    Nothing happened. No sound came from the beautiful, ornate instrument.


    Keldric continued to defend himself from the horde descending upon him furiously, the reverberating cackle of the sentient Corrupted one accented the impending doom.


    "Fool, your end draws near." A grotesque smile crept onto the vicious fiend''s face. "I''ll enjoy consuming you."


    Keldric''s iron expression finally cracked as the darkness closed in.