Sector Z was forbidden for a reason.

Tyrancilcus Rex stood at the rusted perimeter gate, breath pluming against the cold night air, the metal warning sign flickering between KEEP OUT and a blank glitch. The sky above Pixel Park was calm tonight — too calm — and even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.

Rexy rolled the toothpick between his teeth. “If something was here… it’s long gone.”

But the report he received earlier wouldn’t leave his mind: a flash of emerald light rising from the woods, a rippling distortion across the treetops, the sound of something tearing through atmosphere.

He wasn’t here to investigate.

He was here because the ground trembled in a way he hadn’t felt since the tear Gideon sealed.

That meant trouble.

He pushed the gate open.

The forest inside Sector Z was wrong. Too quiet. No pixel creatures rustling, no neon fireflies flitting between leaves. Just dead silence and a faint humming — mechanical, alien, unfamiliar.

Rexy followed it.

The trees parted into a clearing scorched into a perfect circle, steam rising from the soil. At the center hovered a ship — metallic, hovering inches above ground, pulsing with green light.

An alien craft.

Rexy muttered, “Wonderful. New neighbors.”

A beam of light dropped from the underside of the ship, pixelating the air. Three small figures materialized — bipedal, with antenna-like protrusions and round glowing eyes. Their bodies were smooth, teal-colored, and shifting slightly like fluid trapped inside armor.

OuterMoo aliens.

Rexy stepped forward. “You’re a long way from your cow-snatching playground.”

The aliens flinched. One raised a device aimed his direction — not a weapon… a scanner.

It chirped.

Then the alien said something that startled him.

“Trace detected. Energy match: subworld nexus. Identify yourself.”

Rexy blinked. “I’m Tyrancilcus Rex. And I don’t appreciate being scanned.”

The aliens exchanged looks. After a moment, the lead alien spoke again.

“We seek the anomaly that tore through our travel corridor. It originated from this realm.”

Rexy stiffened. “The tear is closed. A genie fixed it.”

The alien hissed — not in anger, but fear. “If the seal was unstable, the breach could reopen elsewhere. Our ship detected a second rupture forming here. We must neutralize it before it spreads.”

Rexy narrowed his eyes. “There is no rupture.”

But then the ground cracked — a thin seam of white light slicing through the soil like a blade. The aliens recoiled, stumbling back.

Rexy took a step closer.

The light pulsed. The air bent inward. A vortex of static began to form.

He spat his toothpick. “Damn it. Gideon didn’t fix everything.”

The lead alien’s voice trembled. “If it expands, it will consume your world… and ours.”

Rexy didn’t hesitate. “Tell me what to do.”

The alien’s eyes widened. “You would aid us?”

“Do you see anyone else around?” Rexy snapped. “If this place goes down, my entire park goes with it.”

The alien steadied itself. “We must anchor the rupture. But we lack the mass to stabilize the energy field. We need something heavy.”

Rexy smirked. “Lady, I’m ninety percent heavy.”

He charged toward the forming rift as pixelated winds whipped around him, pulling at his jacket and scarf. The vortex grew teeth, jagged bits of code thrashing like lightning. The ground shook violently.

The aliens activated their devices, projecting blue beams that looped around the vortex, slowing its growth.

“Now!” the lead alien cried.

Rexy planted his claws into the earth, braced his body, and slammed his weight into the edge of the rupture. It shuddered, resisting, fighting to expand.

Rexy roared — a deep, primal sound that shook the trees.

The rupture flickered.

The aliens screamed something in their language, beams tightening, forming a containment ring around the anomaly.

“Push!” the lead alien shouted.

Rexy roared again, muscles straining, every bone vibrating. Light exploded upward, scattering into a thousand neon fragments.

Then — silence.

The rupture snapped shut.

The ground settled.

Rexy slumped, panting, dust rising around him.

The aliens approached slowly, awe in their glowing eyes. “Your strength sealed the breach. Your world is safe.”

Rexy smirked weakly. “Yeah, well… I work out.”

The aliens exchanged a series of chirps before the lead one stepped forward and bowed.

“You have earned the respect of OuterMoo. Should your park ever face the void again, call upon us. We will answer.”

Rexy raised an eyebrow. “How?”

The alien offered him a small device — a shimmering orb that pulsed with soft, green light.

“Activate this, and a beacon will reach us.”

Rexy accepted it. “Guess every world needs friends.”

The aliens shimmered back into their beam of light and vanished into their ship. It rose, silent as a breath, and slipped into the night sky.

Rexy tucked the orb into his jacket and retrieved a fresh toothpick.

“First a genie. Now aliens.” He sighed, half amused, half weary. “This week is getting ridiculous.”

But he smiled.

Pixel Park was safe again.

And his team — whether cosmic, magical, or extraterrestrial — was growing.

Whether he liked it or not.