Michael stood still for a moment, observing before reaching out into his soul space to summon Spartan out of the damaged coffin of the forgotten inner space.

Spartan appeared at his side, suit pristine, glasses untouched, ponytail still neat as if he had not been dismissed at all.

He adjusted his frames once and bowed his head.

"We have arrived, Master."

Michael gave a small nod.

Spartan straightened and looked around at the red sand and red sky.

"This place has a very unfriendly atmosphere," he said quietly.

Michael exhaled, feeling the heat press against his skin.

"Let us go. We still have many floors to reach so we should not waste time here."

Michael turned his gaze to the empty desert ahead and took his first step on the second floor of Hell.

What Michael had not expected was to step on something strange.

A faint crunch came from beneath his boot.

He frowned and looked down.

At first, it looked like a rock half-buried in red sand.

But when he crouched and brushed the grains aside, his expression shifted.

Beneath the sand lay a body.

Humanoid in shape.

Blue-skinned.

Faintly luminous, as if a veil of stars shimmered just beneath its flesh.

Even now, when most of its light had dimmed, tiny specks of starlight still pulsed weakly across its surface.

Michael placed a hand near the figure's chest.

A slow, fragile rhythm answered.

Barely alive.

No wonder he had not sensed anything earlier. There was almost no life left to sense.

He studied the being more closely.

It looked human except for the blue skin and the tiny shining spots.

"This is…" Michael muttered softly, surprise flickering across his features. "A Starborn."

He glanced at Spartan.

"Master, is that not one of the Star race?"

Michael nodded slowly. "It is. A human variant race, one of the five most technologically advanced civilizations in the universe. In many areas, they even surpass Aurora."

Michael's gaze lingered on the Starborn's dimly glowing skin.

"It is said," he began quietly, "that the first Starborns were born when a wandering cluster of stellar energy collided with a human settlement thousands of years ago."

Spartan tilted his head slightly, listening.

"The humans survived," Michael continued, "but they changed. Their bodies adapted to the starlight that flooded their land. Their children were born glowing, their organs absorbing and storing light the way plants store nutrients. That was the beginning of the Star race."

He brushed more sand away from the figure's arm, revealing faint shimmering patterns like constellations etched under its skin.

"Their uniqueness is not just their glow," Michael said softly. "Starborns have a natural affinity for light and all its higher derivatives depending on their strength and talent. Photon manipulation, hard-light constructs, stellar energy absorption. Things that other races have to spend lifetimes studying come to them almost naturally."

"Then there is their intelligence."

Spartan lowered his gaze. "And their intelligence?"

"One of their greatest strengths," Michael replied. "A Starborn's brain fully matures by the age of eight. By then most of them think, analyze, and understand the world better than a twenty-year-old human. Their innovations shaped half the advanced technologies the universe depends on, making them a top ten race. They are not weaker than the elven civilisation and might even surpass it in some aspects."

Spartan looked impressed. "Truly remarkable."

"It would be perfect," Michael said, "if not for their curse."

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he examined the barely breathing Starborn.

"They are short lived. Very short lived. Starborns, without becoming supernaturals, can only live up to forty years. Their bodies burn through life as quickly as they absorb light, which makes their population extremely low."

Spartan nodded slowly. "It is almost like every top race that has powerful racial abilities suffers from low population. The universe is fair in its own way."

Michael sighed. "Yes. Their civilization is one of the oldest and strongest in the universe, but their numbers have always been small. Too small. And their physical strength is weak. Extremely weak. Their bodies are delicate. Their bones soft. Even among humans, they are one of the most fragile."

His fingers brushed the Starborn's wrist gently.

The faint glow flickered feebly in response.

"Low population and weak physique," Michael murmured. "Those are their only true weaknesses. But they are also fatal ones."

He looked at the barely breathing figure again.

"For a race this rare and advanced to have one of their own lying here alone in the sands of Hell, something must have gone very wrong."

Spartan asked, "Should we help them, Master?"

Michael already knew the answer.

"Of course."

He rested a hand lightly on the being's chest.

The glow beneath the Starborn's skin flickered again, this time brighter, as if responding instinctively to Michael's touch.

"Let us stabilize them first," he said. "Then we find out why a member of the Star race ended up on the second floor of Hell."

Spartan watched the dim glow pulse weakly under the Starborn's skin.

After a moment he spoke.

"Master, is it not better to turn them into an undead? Their body is already close to death. It would be easier."

Michael did not even look up.

"Easier, yes. But also the fastest way to make the Star Race wipe me off the face of the universe."

Spartan blinked behind his glasses.

Michael continued, voice calm and direct, "The last group that tried to turn a Starborn into an undead lost everything. Their entire faction vanished. Not defeated. Erased. Their planet was turned into cosmic dust."

Spartan's expression stiffened immediately.

Michael paused, then added through their mental link,

"Even if we ever wanted to do that, it would only be to someone whose background we fully understand. Or an enemy. Never a random Starborn found half-dead on the ground."

Spartan nodded slowly.

Michael continued mentally,

"The Star Race is also one of Aurora's important allies. Turning one of them into an undead would be the same as declaring war."

He looked down at the fragile glowing being beneath him.

"We help this one recover. Nothing more."

Spartan bowed his head.

"Understood, Master."

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