ã€ŠWarcasket - The Sons of Mars: A Progression Fantasy Story of Blood and Stoneã€‹


 Chapter 1 - Prologue

    Chapter 1 - Prologue

    <hr>

    The call pierced the icy silence, a voice lost in the desolation of a world frozen in time. The relentless snowfall shrouded the two figures trudging through this industrial tomb, where machines of steel and iron once roared to life, but now cradled only the ghosts of their former purpose.

    Deep underground, they sought refuge from the biting cold, the heat of concealed pipes radiating an eerie warmth that seemed to mock the frozen wasteland above. Their gloved hands groped through the darkness, guided only by the faint echoes reverberating through the tunnels, remnants of their ancestors'' toil.

    In this forgotten realm, the threads of time and space intertwined, obscuring the boundaries between past and present. Edward felt the weight of the ages pressing upon him, an inexorable sense of loss and uncertainty.

    He turned to his companion, a man named Henryk, a friend bound by something deeper than mere camaraderie. In each other''s eyes, they saw a reflection of their own souls¡ªa brother, a comrade, a knight in a desolate realm. Knights of Mars, defenders of a dying race, the last hope flickering in the cold void.

    They moved with urgency, scurrying like rats in a maze of their own making. "What!" Edward''s voice sliced through the frigid air.

    Henryk spun around, his gaze fixed on the straggling students trailing behind them. He pushed forward, his steps unwavering, even as his companions stumbled and faltered in the face of impending darkness.

    "We must seek shelter!" Henryk''s voice rang out, filled with empathy.

    Edward sneered, halting abruptly and scanning the desperate faces behind him. "The mission," he uttered with a sneer. "If they can''t keep up, we leave them behind." He stopped midway and waited for Henryk to catch up, but Henryk remained rooted.

    "I need a second who can follow orders," Edward declared, frustration seeping through his words.

    Henryk stood resolute amidst the storm, his silence speaking volumes.

    Edward''s patience wore thin, and he scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "You''re doing it for them, aren''t you? After everything they''ve done for us," he spat out bitterly.

    Henryk sighed, casting another glance at the stragglers. "You can''t always be the hero, Henryk," Edward retorted.

    "We''re no heroes, Edward," Henryk replied, his tone sharper than intended, a simmering anger lurking beneath.

    Edward fixed a cold stare on his friend. "Why does it matter?" he snarled, pointing to the sky above, a vast abyss filled with stars. "They sent us, the undesirables, into the cosmos. Pitiful failures, all of us, sent to die for an impossible cause."

    Edward''s chest heaved with emotion, his heart pounding in rhythm with the unforgiving elements. Henryk approached him slowly, bridging the emotional chasm that threatened to engulf them both.

    He knelt upon the snowy expanse, a hand pressed to his chest. "We cannot save them," he murmured, his voice a mere breath of despair. Henryk joined him, and the others slowed their advance, recognizing the grim reality unfolding before them.

    Ed''s labored breathing gradually steadied, but the other house leaders, like a protective phalanx, encircled him. His loyal comrades, steadfast and resolute, gathered close, their eyes fixed on Henryk.

    One hand rested gently on Ed''s shoulder, clasped by Henryk''s grip. But beneath his coat, hidden from view, Henryk''s fingers clung to the hilt of a crimson leather sheathed sword strapped to his back. Edward''s gaze descended to Henryk''s waist, and it came as no surprise to find the reassuring presence of a plasma pistol, ready to spit fire if the need arose.

    Even within the fold of their allies, wariness prevailed. With a sigh, Henryk stepped back, interpreting Edward''s silent signal to stand down. "Very well, you have won," Ed snapped, his unexpected surrender momentarily baffling Henryk beneath his concealing exterior. "We shall seek refuge within this forsaken realm."

    In that very instant, a voice disrupted their contemplation¡ªArthur. His imposing frame, accentuated by the armor he wore, possessed an air of stoic grandeur, reminiscent of the legendary figures from the annals of Shakespeare.

    Arthur''s words, more an inquiry than a statement, flowed like iambic pentameter. "Must there be sanctuary amidst this place?" he inquired.

    Henryk responded. "Sanctuary, mayhaps," he said with a hint of ambiguity, "but locating it amidst this chaos may prove a real shitty task."

    Ed surveyed their desolate surroundings, the ruins of a once-thriving city cocooning them from all directions. The need to discover a haven was paramount. "Has Fleeboy made contact?" Edward inquired.

    Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. "Fleeboy? In this tempest''s fierce grip, ''tis an impossibility to reach him."

    A chuckle escaped Henryk, drawing the collective gaze towards him. "Dost thou possess tidings to share, countryman?" Arthur queried in Shakespearean fashion.

    Henryk''s laughter grew heartier, emerging through the speakers within his helmet. "Believe ye this to be dire?" he mused, a wry grin touching his lips. "Back on my homeworld, a winter storm such as this would have been but child''s play."

    Laughter rippled through the group, but it swiftly yielded to a somber silence¡ªa silence that bore the weight of sorrow and a longing for a time when the world still offered moments of levity. Those days were no more.

    "Give it a try," Ed suggested.

    Arthur sighed, turning to the others, his mannerisms and speech echoing the poetic cadence of the Bard. "Dost thou truly desire his return?"

    A weary sigh escaped Henryk. "We ain''t gonna save ''em," he muttered, his words heavy with resignation. Even beneath his helmet, Arthur sensed Ed''s steely gaze bearing down on him.

    In the chilling embrace of the snowy ruins, a tired sigh escaped Henryk, its frosty tendrils curling into the frigid air. Even beneath his helmet, Arthur sensed Ed''s intense glare piercing through the cold.

    "Call him, now," Ed commanded with an air of authority, his voice sharp as the biting winter wind.

    Arthur huffed, his breath crystallizing before him. He turned to face Henryk, his arms wrapped tightly around his own shivering form. "You know that Henryk can sense him, right?" he retorted, a shiver of frustration running through his body. "He''s not dead."

    "Still, I want to know if he found something of use. Remember, Zephyr went along with him," Ed replied, mirroring Arthur''s defensive stance, his arms wrapped around himself.

    Around them, the others in the crowd had witnessed Edward''s near panic attack, and they too sought respite from the icy grip of the snow. Some tended to their wounded comrades, while others were lost in contemplation of the recent events. Nevertheless, the conversation between the two continued.

    "I don''t know what that fool was doing," Arthur muttered, his lips clicking together in annoyance. He leaned against a nearby wall, his heavy machine gun resting securely on his back. He methodically loaded a fresh rack of bullets into the large-caliber weapon.

    "Me too," Ed snapped, his words carrying a surprising undercurrent of malice, which took everyone aback.

    Henryk, ever the voice of reason, shrugged his shoulders. "I assumed that he wanted to help."

    "We don''t need his help," Ed retorted, sweeping his hand through the air in a mocking gesture. "Zephyr is risking his life right now." He paused, realizing that the others were now staring at him.

    Arthur grimaced. "Danger from the planet, or danger because he''s now alone with Fleeboy?"

    Ed scoffed and turned away from the pair. Arthur then turned to Henryk, his eyes reflecting a quiet acceptance of his words. Perhaps they held some truth, but he was second-in-command, Edward''s right hand.

    Arthur scoffed again. "You weren''t there," he snapped, causing Ed to pause and listen. "The way Fleeboy was fighting...the others who escaped saw it happen, Edward."

    Edward''s eyes widened, his head snapping around. "What are you talking about?" he inquired, his voice chillingly deliberate.

    Arthur sneered. "You know what I''m saying. You know for a fact that August hasn''t been alright."

    Ed scoffed once more. "We keep on doing this," he exclaimed, his irritation palpable as he turned back to the group. "Fleeboy is one of our greatest knights, and we don''t have the luxury to be so damn picky about our recruits."

    "Edward," Henryk interjected with a single, somber word.

    "What?" Ed replied dismissively, his impatience showing. "What do you all want to do?"

    "His spikes have definitely mutated," Arthur commented, feeling a pair of intense eyes scrutinizing him.

    "How do you know?" Ed snapped, his voice tinged with concern.

    Arthur stood before them, his eyes wide as moons, almost hauntingly so. With a deft click, he unclasped his helmet, revealing a visage marred by scars, the battle-hardened countenance of a young man teetering on the precipice of adulthood. Dark-skinned, with a beard beginning to carve its path across his jaw, he sported a wild mane of frizzy hair, secured in a bun. His glare bore into those gathered around him.

    "You''re no pair of fools," Arthur began, sweeping his gaze across his companions. "You see the corruption etched into his face, and you question the purity of his spikes."

    Ed hesitated mid-sentence, his thoughts tangling like the wintry winds that swirled around them.

    "Henryk," Arthur called out, summoning the silent observer. "You bore witness to what he did."

    Henryk''s eyes widened, his lips parting as if compelled to speak. "Fleeboy...August, he''s going through a rough patch right now. I''m not saying what he did was right or wrong, but..."

    "He murdered a woman," Arthur''s voice cut through the frigid air, sharp and unyielding. "He felled her with his axe."

    Simple words, devoid of flourish, hung heavy in the air, casting a chilling pall over the trio. Ed, however, rallied quickly. "She was attacking us."

    "Her imprint still stains his helmet."

    Yet, it wasn''t Arthur who uttered this grim observation. Ed turned toward Henryk, his faceplate fixed on the snow-laden ground. Nonetheless, his words tumbled forth like ice-cold water. "He''s parading it around like a trophy, as if it were a gruesome sport," he intoned, his voice void of emotion as he pivoted to face them. "He is..."

    "I''ve been planning to use chemicals to ensure it doesn''t fade. If we don''t make it back to the manor before it''s wiped clean or dirtied in some way, I''ll employ chemicals to preserve what I can and conceal the rest with paint."

    August, or Fleeboy as they''d come to know him, his name echoed among them. But their wide eyes shifted behind them.

    They turned abruptly, their gaze fixating on the figure that had emerged from the storm''s relentless shroud. They''d momentarily forgotten what they''d whispered about August, forgotten the darkness that lurked within him. He had become quieter, less conspicuous, and infinitely more dangerous.

    Footfalls tread lightly upon the snow as Henryk''s gaze honed in on the approaching presence. They hadn''t even realized he was there until now, his form obscured by the blizzard''s white curtain.

    "You''re back," Edward dismissed, his voice carrying the weight of anticipation. He turned to face Fleeboy, ready to receive a report, but the words didn''t come. For the first time in hours, they were granted a true look at Fleeboy.

    "Where''s Zephyr?" Edward demanded, his voice etched with urgency.

    Their eyes fixated on his armor, where blood splatters and bullet holes served as a gruesome testament to the violence he''d recently endured. His ritualistic helmet, adorned with a skull and now marred by a crimson handprint, concealed his face partially.

    Arthur couldn''t fathom how he could see with that handprint obscuring half his mask, but Henryk suspected that Fleeboy cared little for practicality. If it struck fear into his enemies and amused him in the process, Fleeboy would readily adopt it.

    "Where is Zephyr?" Edward repeated, his patience worn thin.

    Yet, Fleeboy remained silent, his reticence fueling Arthur''s mounting frustration. "Speak, abomination," Arthur snapped, his anger simmering beneath a glacial veneer.

    Fleeboy gripped the ornamental wings on either side of his head, withered appendages reminiscent of angelic feathers, small enough to be cradled in his palm. They heard a soft hiss as dark tar eyes regarded them.

    "He''s safe," Fleeboy responded with an unsettling chill, his voice a soft, eerie whisper.

    Their gazes shifted uncomfortably, unable to withstand the unsettling depths of his eyes. Strands of sweat-drenched black hair clung to his features as he grinned, revealing too many teeth.

    Unlike his Knight cousins, Fleeboy bore no guns or swords; instead, he wielded an axe, its blade stained with fresh gore.

    Henryk noticed the splatters of blood that adorned Fleeboy''s armor. "What happened out there?"

    Fleeboy tilted his head, and they saw Zephyr being consoled by his comrades in the distance. Edward sneered and redirected his attention to his cousins.

    "What''s your plan?" Fleeboy inquired.

    "During your scouting, did you find a place to weather the storm and the night?" Arthur interjected.

    Fleeboy hesitated, glancing back at the growing crowd behind them. "We won''t recover the artifact with this many people following us," he remarked, and even someone as battle-hardened as Fleeboy recognized the folly in their actions.

    "It doesn''t matter," Edward attempted to dismiss, but the falsehood in his features didn''t escape Fleeboy''s notice. "We all need rest, and we have to work together to get this done."

    "It''s a shame they wouldn''t let us bring our machines," Arthur mused, a wry chuckle escaping him as he passed around a flask. The warm liquor coursed through their veins as they took sips and gulps.

    "Funny," Fleeboy retorted with a scoff as he downed a large gulp of the fiery liquid. "I would''ve thought you''d want Zephyr dead."

    The boys stood in uneasy silence, their collective gaze shifting from one to another. Henryk, ever vigilant, turned to Ed, awaiting his response. But Ed merely shook his head, a vexed gesture that spoke volumes.

    "You found a place?" Ed asked once more, his voice tinged with impatience.

    Fleeboy had reached his limit. "There''s a spot, overrun with bandits," he finally answered.

    "Bandits?" Arthur queried, his skepticism evident. "Were they bandits before you engaged them, or were they simply defending themselves from an attack?"

    Frustration flared in Fleeboy as he turned toward the burly figure. "They were out for our lives, intent on seizing our power armor," he retorted.

    Arthur snorted in disbelief. "I''ll wager Zephyr''s version of the tale would paint a vastly different picture..."

    Arthur''s eyes widened as the metallic clinking reached his ears, and he swung back to face Fleeboy. The ritualistic mask had returned, its bloodstains and skull paint accentuated by the menacing red eyes of the helmet. "I''ve had enough of this," Fleeboy declared.

    The words held no anger or hatred, but the other two knew better. Fleeboy had retrieved his axe from his back, while the ritualistic gladius remained firmly at his chest, both hands poised on the blades.

    "You''d be wise to choose your next words carefully, Knight," Fleeboy taunted, infusing the last word with a biting insolence, a clear provocation.

    Henryk intervened, his hands firmly placed on the chests of both boys, extending his arms to separate them. His helmet pivoted between the two, his gaze unwavering. "This is not the time for this," he admonished them, though his eyes bore into Fleeboy.

    Fleeboy''s gaze hardened, his grip on the weapons tightening, the sound of leather sliding against leather filling the tension-laden air. They didn''t inquire about the source of the stitched leather, but they all harbored a deep understanding.

    Silver slid ominously from the blades, only to come to a halt at the brink of escalation. "August," Henryk addressed him by his true name.

    Fleeboy grimaced, relenting as he returned his weapons to their sheaths. A collective sigh of relief escaped the boys, but the sloshing of snow behind them diverted their attention.

    Turning around, they saw a smaller figure, dwarfed by their imposing presence, yet taller than the average girl. Clad in protective plates of light armor, concealed beneath a heavy winter coat like many of their comrades, she stepped forward.

    "Piper," Henryk called out to her.

    "What are we going to do?" she shouted over the storm, her voice filled with desperation.

    Edward moved closer to his Knights of Mars, his tone curt as he responded to Piper''s urgency. "We''re figuring that out right now, Piper," he replied, his impatience palpable.

    She took a step back, disconcerted by his tone. But then, frustration overwhelmed her, and she waved her hand behind her, gesturing at the injured. "Figure it out faster!" she yelled. "We have wounded."

    Fleeboy''s skull-faced helm pivoted, locking onto Piper''s presence. "We?" he scoffed, a hint of mockery in his voice. "This ain''t no ''we'' affair, girl," he snapped.

    "Easy now," Henryk intervened, taking a step closer to Piper, his voice measured.

    Fleeboy''s scoff persisted as he swung back toward Edward. "Why are we extending our hand to these weaklings? They scorned us at the academy, but now they come crawling for the might of Mars."

    They paid him no mind. "Get everyone ready to move, Piper," Edward ordered. "We''re heading to the place Fleeboy mentioned."

    Piper nodded, and before they knew it, they were once again trudging forward, navigating through the drifts of snow as they continued along the path. "Here," Fleeboy commented, extending a gloved finger toward their destination.

    It was a sizable structure, likely a factory in the days when the world still lived. Now it stood frozen in time, shrouded in darkness, with boarded-up windows casting eerie shadows. Fleeboy approached, his fingers curling around the doorknob.

    Arthur scanned their surroundings. "Where are the bandits?" he inquired.

    "The bandits," Arthur repeated.

    "Oh, that," Fleeboy dismissed, the others hearing the creaking of the door against its ungreased frame. "They were lying in wait to ambush me and Zephyr, but I got the drop on them."

    "So, how did you stumble upon this place then?" Edward asked.

    Fleeboy scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words. "A million and one questions from my cousins."

    Arthur''s features tightened. "Maybe we wouldn''t need to question you so often if you were dependable."

    "Can you all cease your bickering for a mere ten seconds?" Piper snapped from her position behind them, drawing their collective gaze.

    "I am perfectly reliable, Sir Arthur," Fleeboy retorted.

    Arthur sneered. "You used to be. Something changed, and I don''t know what."

    "I grew up," Fleeboy declared, then forcefully swung the door open with a display of his formidable strength. He turned to face his cousins and peers. "I fight my enemies once, and only once. I don''t believe in mercy. Anyone who draws a blade against me is preparing for war, and I won''t be defeated."

    His words held a chilling calmness as he ventured into the darkened room, well ahead of the others. The space was pitch-black, and the rest had already activated their lights. But Fleeboy didn''t require the illumination; he ventured further into the abyss, beyond the reach of their feeble beams.

    It was as if the encroaching darkness slithered and coiled its inky tendrils around him, pulling him deeper into its abyss, refusing to release its grip.

    Piper voiced her curiosity as others streamed into the room, seeking refuge from the relentless storm outside. "How can he see?" she wondered aloud, directing her question to Henryk as they positioned themselves near the doorway.

    "Are you all right with keeping watch for a while as we establish a schedule?" Edward asked.

    Henryk nodded, and Edward reciprocated with a nod of his own. He and Arthur, along with the rest of the group, ventured further down the corridor that led deeper into the ruins of the establishment. Henryk settled himself amidst a pile of rubble, finding a makeshift seat for his weary body. A collective sigh of relief escaped him.

    Piper observed him as he began to remove his gear. She watched as he retrieved his plasma pistol, deftly manipulating the dials until the reactive purple strands of unrefined plasma cooled down. With practiced ease, he returned the weapon to its holster.

    Next, he turned his attention to his sword, a long, gleaming blade. He drew it from its scabbard and planted the scabbard next to him in the debris before driving the blade into the earth. His long rifle followed suit, securely strapped to his chest with one hand gripping the rail, leaving his dominant hand free.

    Then, he delved into his pocket, and Piper watched as he produced a small carton. Its steel exterior vaguely resembling the ones that once held old candies. However, this one contained rolled tobacco and marijuana.

    Piper''s gaze lingered on the carton as she saw his gun hand go slack. She closed the door slightly, her ears catching the faint muttering of words in a long-forgotten language, uttered in eerie, nearly melodic verses. Her eyes remained locked on his left hand.

    A soft flicker, a wild cascade of sparks danced over his outstretched hand. Soon, a magnificent stream of purple fire illuminated the area around him, casting a vivid glow that played on Piper''s features. Her long, orange-reddish hair cascaded down to her neck, its wild tendrils framing her face, freckles accentuated by the indigo flames'' radiance.

    Henryk''s jet-black hair was disheveled, tousled by the relentless wind and snow, but it was his eyes that held the flame''s hue, burning with a fiery intensity.

    She sensed his gaze sharpening on her. "Are you all right?" he inquired.

    "Why wouldn''t I be?" she responded, her voice tinged with sheepishness.

    "It took a lot of courage to confront August," he observed with a sigh. "That''s not like you."

    Her expression soured as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, retreating to the opposite wall. "Are you calling me a coward?"

    He waved her off. "Never," he replied with conviction.

    Her features began to redden, a brief flush of annoyance coloring her expression. She shook her head, struggling to regain her composure. Henryk''s finger toyed with the rolled vices, and he singled out the one he desired among the group¡ªthe joint.

    Piper sneered. "Can''t believe you smoke those things."

    His features darkened. "I thought you enjoyed weed?"

    She scoffed. "Only on social occasions," she retorted. "We''re in a desolate world on a doomed mission. Don''t you think this isn''t the time or place?"

    Henryk remained silent for a moment, taking the joint and igniting one end. She watched as he inhaled the intoxicating smoke, exhaling without a single cough. "They help me focus..."

    He was nearly hit by a freight train of a truck. His eyes narrowed, the redness in his irises clashing with the deep indigo. Once, his eyes were blue, but not anymore. Now they were a pure shade of purple, a testament to his spikes, those genetic mutations that granted him strength.

    "I don''t think smoking all those things is good for your lungs," Piper remarked.

    Henryk shot her an irritated look. "I''m not looking for a lecture. I''m just trying to regain some of my abilities."

    Piper scoffed.

    This only deepened Henryk''s annoyance. He gestured down the hallway. "The reason I''m busy smoking to replenish my abilities is that your housemates were the ones getting injured."

    Piper scoffed again, her eyes blazing with anger. "Are you serious, Henryk?" she snapped. "You damn well know why so many of us got hurt. I''m sorry for needing your help." Her words dripped with sarcasm.

    "Yeah, you should be," he retorted, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Normally, his laughter would have elicited a smile from her, but now it only served to irritate.

    He toyed with the joint between his fingers, turning toward her. Her green eyes met his purple ones.

    "Zephyr, he..." Piper began, then hesitated as Henryk''s gaze bore into her. She trailed off, pressing herself harder against the wall. "That''s what I thought," he concluded, taking another drag from his smoke.

    Piper''s features narrowed at Henryk. "You can''t say that about him," she protested. She paused, her hand resting on her chest. "I was defending you. But remember how it is at the beginning of the year, after that whole thing with Jace and you, and the..."

    "So, it''s all my fault, then?" he said with a false smirk, rolling the joint between his fingers as the sounds of howling winds and swirling snow built up outside.

    Deeper within the tunnel, a faint glimmer of light beckoned, but neither of them ventured towards it. Henryk had his obligations, but what was holding her back? Laughter echoed down the corridor, but Henryk turned away from it, anticipating the moment they would summon him to replace someone less weary.

    "Quit being dramatic," Piper snapped.

    Henryk shook his head and remained silent, continuing to take hits from his joint. Eventually, it crumbled into a charred, crushed ball of plant matter beneath his power-armored boot, scattering it across the metallic floor.

    "I''m not being dramatic," he retorted.

    Piper snorted. "You''ve always been dramatic," she said with mock friendliness. "And with that country accent of yours..."

    Henryk chuckled. "How does my accent make me dramatic?"

    "Well, then you''re right," she said, clicking her fingers as her green eyes locked onto him, her unruly hair swaying in the breeze. "You never change."

    There was a pause, and a fleeting gust of wind swept through the tunnel, but they remained unfazed, their gazes locked on each other. "I never change?" he repeated, his tone more questioning.

    "Yeah," she admitted, her gaze drifting down towards the floor. Her cheeks reddened as she averted her eyes. She bent her knees slightly, bringing herself closer to the ground, her hair obscuring her features. "You''re very sweet, and the accent doesn''t change that. You''re empathetic, you''re strong, you''re..."

    His hand traced down to his back, and Piper''s expression soured. Her face displayed a mixture of attraction and realization. She understood how much he had changed. Henryk was no longer the same boy who had entered that academy. She could still recall his smile and wide-eyed innocence as he left home.

    But that world had crumbled before her. The duels, the battles, the missions¡ªthe deaths. He carried them within himself, the guilt and regret weighing on his heart. For a moment, he seemed like just a big man with peculiar eyes.

    They were all peculiar, the Sons of Mars. Adorned in different armor for their weapons and mechs, armed with formidable gear and weaponry. Despite their small numbers, they were a formidable force. Piper finally realized the depths of Henryk''s transformation¡ªfrom a simple frontiersman to a Knight of Mars.

    He had changed, just like his cousins. Piper couldn''t help but notice that now. Her gaze lingered upon his armor, a patchwork of Martian relics showing its age. An amalgamation of twisted and bolted parts held the armor together, a living testament to years of use and countless campaigns on the red planet.

    It was an old relic, and Piper could see the weight of history in its design. Despite the passage of time and the harsh conditions of Mars, it always found its way back to its rightful owner.

    She watched as Henryk raised his right hand and flexed his fingers, the mechanical servos grinding within. Her emerald eyes returned to him, taking in the way the orange glow of the distant fire played upon his pale skin and how his indigo eyes met hers.

    "Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked.

    She tilted her head away, her face growing even redder. "Nothing," she replied.

    "Whatever," he waved it off. "You''re a real strange girl, Piper. You say I''m strange, but when you''re around, you can''t make an ounce of sense."

    She sneered at him and wrapped her arms around herself, turning her head away. She heard him chuckling as he pointed his outstretched hand towards her. She glanced at his armor.

    It was old, a relic from a time long gone. It wasn''t any pattern she recognized, but she knew from her research that the people of Mars had been fixated on various types of mechs and armor in the past. This was power armor, but it was designed to resemble the Knight Suits of old Europe, harkening back to the Xeno Days. Each of the Sons of Mars had a unique suit, tailored to their preferences and needs on the battlefield.

    Henryk''s battle plate was made of a strange metal, weathered and scarred from countless battles. It was polished but bore the marks of triumph and defeat. The main components were crafted from old Red Bronzium and Martian Steel.

    His helmet, Piper''s favorite part, looked ancient yet oddly full of life. It bore the marks of time, and the bronze faceplate had developed a rich, earthy patina, radiating timeless strength. But what set it apart were the formidable deer antlers protruding from each side, giving it a primal and fearsome appearance.

    Yet, it was skull painted, mirroring Fleeboy''s own. Piper''s heart sank as she realized the significance, and her eyes traveled down to his bloodied gauntlets, where the grim truth lay.

    "I''m sorry," Piper whispered, her voice laden with sorrow. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt selfish and miserable in that moment. As she gazed at her friend of two years, she realized just how much had changed between them. The heartbreak and the ache within her might never heal.

    Henryk wrapped his arms around her, his embrace warm and comforting. "I don''t know why you''re crying," he murmured.

    She sobbed harder. "Because I don''t know why I''m crying. We''re hardly even twenty, and we''re here right now, on an impossible mission. There are so many things to do and say, and I haven''t had the courage to say them, and I... I..." Her words stumbled out as Henryk held her tightly. She looked up at him and realized how close they were. She felt small within his embrace, as if a comforting shadow had been cast upon her.

    "I don''t want to die here," she admitted, the words slipping from her lips without a sob or a tear. The painful truth hung between them, but Henryk continued to hold her, his grip reassuring. She noticed his trembling, sensed his urgency, and knew he smoked to cope. Henryk was no invincible hero; he was scared, just like her. But he would never show it.

    She broke free from his embrace and looked into his eyes. "Henryk, please don''t..."

    "Don''t what?" he asked, smiling.

    She winced. "I... I care about you." She hesitated as she looked at him. "Join us at House Mercury. You''ll be treated well, and you won''t be under Edward''s control."

    "What?" Henryk moved away from her abruptly, his eyes widening. He gripped the pommel of his sword, his gaze narrowing at her. Piper raised her arms defensively.

    "What are you talking about?" he snapped.

    "Zep, he... he..." Piper began, but guilt was written all over her face. He already knew what she was asking, and the revolting notion made him sick. His features twisted, as if he had swallowed something foul. Piper took a step forward, but he raised his hand to stop her.

    "Zep sent you to talk to me," he snapped.

    She hesitated, then nodded. "They''re thinking of mutiny, Henryk," she confessed, her words echoing in the space between them.

    "Mutiny?" Henryk scoffed, his head whirling in amusement. "What the hell is this? This isn''t a democracy. Edward''s the one who got everyone''s shit together during the boarding and led us through the evacuation."

    Piper shrugged. "You know how the houses are. It doesn''t help that the teachers favor you... but a house getting such favors is..."

    Henryk paused for a moment, his eyes drifting to his blood-stained gauntlets. Beneath them, his uniform bore the mark of the empire¡ªa symbol of disgrace and the last remnants of a dying race. They were the Last Sons of Mars.

    "Should''ve known," he muttered, his scorn evident. "You and your damn politics, houses and all."

    Piper shook her head. "What''s your problem, Henryk?"

    "Oh, I think I''ll play this," he retorted. "You tried to recruit me into your damn house. What the hell is wrong with you? And don''t even get me started on Zephyr. That damn bastard... after what he did to Edward!"

    Henryk shook his head wildly. "The audacity."

    Piper''s features contorted into a fearful expression. She reached for his arm, but he pulled away, stepping back and narrowing his purple eyes at her.

    "This isn''t like you," he said, his voice laced with suspicion. His eyes began to shift, brightening into a lighter shade of indigo, and he stared at her intently.

    "You''re afraid," he declared.

    She hugged herself, her hair casting shadows over her face as she looked up at him.

    "The Houses are all arranged against you," Piper declared. Her words caused Henryk''s eyes to widen, and for a moment, she saw fear etched across his face. "Who?" he shot back.

    "You know the houses," she snapped, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her tone resembled that of a reprimanding teacher or his mother scolding him. But he only grimaced in response.

    He paused for a moment. "Is this going to get bloody?" he questioned.

    Piper herself hesitated, and Henryk''s gaze fell to the snuffed-out joint on the floor. He was already regretting ingesting the substance.

    He turned around, throwing his gun across his back and gripping his blade. He placed it on his shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the antlers of the helmet. Piper heard the hiss of air being locked within the suit.

    "Why?" he snapped.

    "You know why," she stammered, and Henryk understood all too well.

    "So, after all the crap we''ve been through saving you lot," he said with a humorless snicker, looking at her now, "you damn core world dogs still don''t like taking orders from Mars. Even after our disgrace and censorship, you still think you''re better than us."

    Piper''s eyes shot open. "Zephyr is not doing this out of spite," she protested. "He wants you to join us and..."

    Henryk scoffed. "You want me to betray all I''ve known for two years. You''re asking me to betray my cousins and my loyalties to Mars. Zephyr, that disgusting little rat. Even after what he did to Mars... even after what happened between him and Edward. He still hopes to recruit me?"

    "Loyalty to Mars?" She scoffed in annoyance and anger. "There is no Mars anymore."

    Henryk registered the hurt on her face. She paused, her hands going to her face as she struggled to find an apology for the shock of what had slipped from her lips.

    "You know who to blame for that," he snapped.

    Piper fell strangely quiet. Her eyes widened as the tears stopped flowing. "Henryk, don''t..." Her words were veiled in shock and exhaustion. The type of exhaustion not willing to fight, but the shock of hearing such words from him.

    Henryk scoffed at her. "You''re too damn afraid to speak his name, his true name?" He chuckled, and this time, the distasteful humor in his words and tone was evident. He pointed at her. "Even after all the things he''s responsible for, you''re still too damn afraid to say his name."

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "He is... the emperor," she stuttered out.

    His laughter erupted within his helmet, echoing in the tunnel, as she merely stared at him in embarrassed silence. "The false emperor sits on the throne."

    Her eyes widened at that revelation, causing her to take a step back from him. She realized just how much that boy had changed. "Henryk, please, stop," she begged. "This isn''t you."

    "This... is... me," Henryk spat back at her, each word piercing her heart like an arrow. She moved closer to him, watching as his gloved hand touched his knight tabard. He was no ordinary soldier of the empire; he was a Knight of Mars.

    "I am a Knight," he whispered, the words carrying a chill that seemed to resonate through the ages. In a time when knights had become a relic of the past, their remnants and the memory of Mars itself still whispered in cold, silent echoes as these sons fought against the dying of the light.

    His hand tightened on his tabard, clutching the insignia. "I am Henryk Fitzgerald of the order ''The Red Templars'' and a Druid," he declared, planting both feet firmly. Piper stared into the obscured eye slots of his helmet, realizing the gravity of the situation. "My lineage stretches back to the dark days of the Krill and their xeno infections. In those days, the evisceration weapons on my mech cleaved through legions of aliens until they were rendered extinct under humanity''s might. My spikes are descended from my very forebearer. Now, you think I will join you for what?"

    "To live," she implored as she reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.

    He scoffed. "Have you no shame, begging me like this to join your cause?" he snapped, slamming his metal hand against his chestplate. Each word dripped with poison. "Shame, honorless, soulless, disgrace," he hurled at her like bullets. "You do not know Edward, and if you truly did, you would know that he would never commit such things."

    He raised a finger, though. "However, your president of your house is all these things."

    "Henryk, please, I am begging you," she grabbed his arm, but he snatched it away. Her hands flew to her mouth, and fresh tears began to flow. "Please, don''t do this. Don''t throw your life away for him!"

    She screamed those words so loudly that everyone in the tunnel heard the aftershock of her cry. Edward, who had just removed his armor, and Melissa, the appointed doctor, were among those who turned their gazes toward the commotion.

    Henryk stared back at her in cold, calculated silence. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist, his gaze locked on her. "Is this what you''ve been planning?"

    "What?" she responded in surprise, her grip on him slipping.

    "You know what I mean," he said. "Was this the plan all along? You''ve been trying to get me to your house for years, and now that the heat is on, you and Zephyr are trying to turn me."

    This time she fell silent. Her eyes widened, no tears escaping, her lips trembling. For a moment, her heart seemed to pause. "Is that really what you think?"

    A heavy silence settled upon him, and he turned away from her. His finger pointed deeper into the tunnel, where their peers and friends waited, along with their rivals and allies in such close proximity.

    "You speak of Edward, but you do not know Edward," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

    She scoffed but remained silent.

    "Piper," he spoke her name with conviction, his voice a declaration of his identity. She turned to him, and in that moment, she saw him for what he had become ¨C the armor, the eyes, the weapons ¨C all stripped from relics, from friends, from the dead. Physical changes aside, the boy from the frontier was gone, replaced by the Druid of Mars.

    He gestured into the darkness, and she could hear Edward. "Do you hear him, Piper?" he asked, and she nodded. "That''s Edward, the best man I know, and... the man I''m going to hell for."

    The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving her stunned. She tried to fight it, but she couldn''t save him. Slowly, she turned and walked away into the darkness, making her way to the center. All eyes were on her as she wiped away her tears and found a corner of the building to retreat to.

    The underground space was large, most likely a bunker due to its size. There was little to note except for the destroyed furniture and a massive barrel filled with wood, providing a much-needed fire for the academy students.

    They were scattered about, few mingling between houses. The students stuck with their respective houses, and Edward watched Piper from a distance. His armor lay beside him as he grunted in pain, almost screaming as Melissa stitched his open wound. "That... really hurt," he stammered.

    "Really?" Melissa retorted. "Maybe if you had told me hours ago that you had a massive cut, I wouldn''t have to keep double-checking and making sure it''s clean."

    Edward sighed. "Keep sighing," Melissa shot back.

    Arthur voiced his concern. "Is he going to be okay?" His gaze drifted across the room, settling on the presidents of the other houses.

    Zephyr''s pale skin was touched by the firelight as his housemates crowded around him. House Mercury members enjoyed their rations and relished in the much-needed warmth, each bearing their unique arrangement of weapons and gear.

    The other houses were similar, distinguished by their colors and equipment, representing planets from within and outside the solar system.

    Edward, however, was no fool. His narrowed eyes sensed the tension in the room. Eyes darted toward him, thinking they were being subtle, but he saw through it. Two years, or more for the senior students and graduates, had seen plenty within the academy.

    Edward''s eyes began to close, his right hand sweeping across his tired face, marked by exhaustion. The academy ¨C the place his father wanted him to be ¨C now felt different, foreign. His mind wandered to flashes of red, green, and white, contrasting his inner turmoil. Brief memories danced across his thoughts, and a quiet sadness settled upon him.

    His fingers clawed at his face, a momentary lapse of composure that didn''t escape Arthur''s notice. But Edward quickly regained his cool, his gaze returning to the presidents and their houses. Guilt, anger, hate, vengeance, manipulation ¨C emotions swirled within him like a tempest. Why would his father have sent him to a place like this? He had witnessed friends maimed and murdered, and he had seen unspeakable acts committed by humans, mutants, and even things he couldn''t fathom.

    Edward''s eyes fixed on Fleeboy now, observing how the crowd regarded him with a palpable sense of dread and unease. People huddled around the fire, seeking desperate warmth from the factory''s furnace. Flames danced upon Fleeboy''s armor, casting eerie shadows, and Edward watched.

    Fleeboy was squatting, hands on his knees, absorbed by the flames. Edward remembered the old August, around the same height, thanks to the spikes in their backs that maintained their firm Martian genetics. Back then, August had been scrawnier, and he looked out of place in the grey and gold Martian uniform. Even marked with censure, the uniform of their homeland still clung to him.

    Tired, quiet, and shy brown-greyish eyes met Edward''s gaze for a moment. Now, August had changed. He had acquired many names ¨C The Flayer, Cursed One, but Edward''s favorite was Fleeboy. Simple and strange, yet terrifying in the worst possible ways.

    Edward''s eyes were drawn to the painted gauntlets stained with red. The Emperor had shamed them with one gauntlet, but the Martians had shamed them with two. An exhausted groan escaped Edward''s lips as he hardly recognized him amidst the chaos of battle, but now he saw August''s condition. Maybe it was the flickering firelight that made it all seem so dramatic, but Edward saw it clearly.

    August''s skin had an uneven pallor, some parts darker, some lighter. His body had filled out, and he looked stronger. His posture had improved. His armor, similar in pattern to Henryk''s, bore old Martian metals with archaic designs. The rim of the plates had a light blue trim, while the main plate was a murky dark greenish-black. His gloves brushed against his kneecaps, bathed in the firelight.

    Like Henryk''s, August''s armor displayed runes, glyphs, and strange symbols. One pauldron on his left shoulder featured these symbols, while the other held spikes for ramming into enemies.

    The pauldron bore strange iconography, once a symbol of the lone Martian wolf, now twisted into something grotesque. Its tongue, stretched and splayed like a whip, seemed more like an instrument of flaying than honor.

    In contrast to Henryk, Fleeboy sported a sinister array of spikes on his right kneecap, stained with grim fragments of blood and grime. On his other leg, bolts were visibly inserted into the metal, serving as extra plating. His helmet, reminiscent of Henryk''s ornamental design, had a vaguely religious undertone. Avian in its beak-like shape, it also featured a skull motif. But, unlike Henryk''s, the white substance on Fleeboy''s helmet bore traces of dried blood, lending it an eerie quality.

    Edward turned towards Arthur''s voice, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and discomfort from his stitched-up wounds. "The plan?" Arthur inquired, his hand resting on a heavy light machine gun that felt more like a high-caliber rifle. "They''ve been eyeing us suspiciously for a while now. You know how the other houses must feel about this."

    "Taking orders from a Martian," Edward muttered with a dry scoff. "I know."

    "So, what''s our move?" Arthur pressed.

    "Damn it, Arthur," Edward spat.

    "I''m just worried," Arthur admitted, his eyes darting toward the members of the other houses gathered around them ¨C allies, enemies, rivals, and grudge-holders, all mingled within the ruins of the dead city and this forsaken factory. They watched House Mars closely, their intentions veiled.

    "Edward," Arthur tried again, reaching for his bare arm, but Edward pulled away abruptly. The action didn''t go unnoticed by those around them, and Edward drew Arthur closer.

    "Listen to me," he snapped, his quiet rage commanding attention. Arthur fell silent, gripping his armament, his eyes wide as Edward seized his face. "Stop behaving like a mindless brute for a moment," he snarled. "Look around us. We''re deep in the wolf''s den, miles away from our objective, and it''s absurd. We don''t even know if our fellow house members are still alive, and there are many houses that want our heads."

    "Then what..." Arthur began.

    "I''m thinking," Edward interrupted, pushing himself away from Arthur with a sidelong glance.

    Fortune had smiled upon them, as it appeared that only a few had witnessed the unsettling incident. Still, the treatment had left Arthur hardened. "We can''t afford to show fear," he cautioned. "We''re in the company of lions, wolves, or sharks, call them what you will. The moment they sense division or weakness, they''ll pounce."

    Arthur nodded, his gaze returning to their comrade lounging by the fire. "What about him?" he asked.

    Edward shrugged. "He''s not doing anything," he replied.

    "Yet with Fleeboy, it''s often a guessing game. What kind of trouble is he brewing today?" Arthur retorted, his words laced with contempt.

    Edward sighed. "Fleeboy is¡ª"

    "A psychopath," Melissa interjected, her eyes darting between the two boys. "I don''t know why you put up with him."

    Edward fixed his stare on her. "He''s saved us countless times. He''s one of our best warriors and mech pilots, and we don''t leave a Martian behind. Ever." His words came out curt, but Arthur shook his head.

    "He''s repulsive," Arthur snarled.

    "Aye," Edward acknowledged.

    "Quit playing the fool," Arthur snapped. "He''s dangerous. Just look at him. This is not the August I remember. The August I recall was timid, but something''s terribly amiss with that boy. You''ve seen it; you''re not blind."

    Edward lowered his gaze to the ground. "We don''t have time for this."

    "Have we even checked his spikes?" Arthur inquired, turning his attention back to Fleeboy. "They must have mutated for him to undergo such physical changes. Look at his skin, his mannerisms, his weapons. August wouldn''t have cared for such things."

    "I know," Edward replied, his voice louder than he intended. "Ali examined him, and¡ª"

    "This is unnatural," Arthur interrupted, pointing at Fleeboy. "Examine his arms."

    Edward did as he was told. He observed the blood splatters and grime, the patches of torn flesh, and the unkempt hair. His eyes met the abyss-like gaze of Fleeboy, and Edward found himself involuntarily shutting his eyes. But even with his eyes closed, his mind conjured images of the weapons, the arms, and the eviscerations.

    Fleeboy bore three weapons. His primary one, the Cleaver Axe, held great historical significance. The handle, designed for single-handed or two-handed use, was crafted from a combination of synthetic wood and a reddish-brown material. The polished metal blade featured an unusual curve along its metallic edge, capable of rending both bone and flesh with ease.

    An ominous presence hung about it, an unholy amalgamation of axe and chainsaw. It stood as a merciless instrument of war, its serrated teeth engaged in a relentless, mechanical ballet, driven by an insidious engine pulsating with malevolent energy.

    In the days when humanity first clashed with the invaders, such weapons and arms were within reach. However, as centuries slipped by, the knowledge of such weaponry faded into obscurity.

    His second, a ritualistic Martian gladius, and third, a massive, hulking pistol holstered to his thigh, now complemented his arsenal. New additions had surfaced as well.

    Stitched-up, alien skin formed a cloak draped across his back, concealing unknown secrets. A holster for his pistol adorned his form.

    "He murdered a woman," Arthur uttered, breaking the silence that hung over the trio. Melissa and Edward exchanged wide-eyed glances as they listened to his accusation. Arthur, seated amidst the rubble, cradled his imposing weapon in his lap, his helmet cast aside. His eyes bore into them as he continued.

    "He ripped her in half," he repeated, his gaze laden with disgust, focusing squarely on Fleeboy.

    Edward sighed, seeking clarification. "Was she¡­?"

    "An enemy," Melissa murmured.

    "Then¡­" Edward began.

    But Arthur cut him off with a scornful scoff. "That is not acceptable," he snapped. "There is a way to kill, and there''s a way to kill. You''ve witnessed August''s transformation, and I''ve held my tongue for too long. Something must be done; he revels in this."

    Edward countered with a question of his own. "What do you propose we do? Come on, you''re the problem solver. We''re the remnants of a vanishing race, clad in armor and equipment nearing obsolescence. And now you want to eliminate one of our most capable members?"

    "He''s a monster," Arthur growled.

    "Perhaps monsters are what we''ll require to prevail in this war," Edward retorted.

    A disquieting pause settled between the two men, while Melissa watched their exchange. Edward slowly turned toward Arthur, his mouth nearing Arthur''s ear.

    On the opposite side of the room, Piper wiped away her tears as she leaned against a metal wall. Zephyr approached her, his olive skin shimmering in the light, enveloped by his oversized jacket.

    "I assume it didn''t go well," Zephyr remarked.

    Piper nodded, struggling to quell her sobs. "Y-yes," she stammered, attempting a feeble chuckle. "He''s a real stubborn bastard." Her voice wavered, but Zephyr offered only a sigh as he leaned against the wall beside her.

    "Are you ready for what we''re about to do?" Zephyr inquired.

    Piper''s features contorted with a blend of anger and annoyance. "What exactly are we going to have to do?" She scoffed.

    Zephyr wrapped his arms around himself, a near-dismissive gesture, as though he could wave away all her concerns. "We must do whatever it takes for our survival."

    His words carried a tone of unwavering determination, as if he held the moral high ground. Piper scoffed once more. "This is what we are doing for survival," she retorted, her eyes shifting toward Arthur and Edward. Their gazes, too, roved across the room, sensing the palpable tension that had descended upon them all.

    Some of the division leaders glanced at Edward with hope, while others looked upon him with shame and disdain. How many of the houses would align with House Mars, and how many would stand against them? The outcome remained uncertain.

    "Do you pity them?" Zephyr inquired.

    Piper paused, her gaze fixed upon him. "Do you?"

    Zephyr sighed, his eyes momentarily reflecting regret before once again assuming that razor-sharp leadership persona. A man who appeared to have everything under control, but Piper knew the true depths of his character.

    "Why do you persist in trying to recruit him?" Piper questioned.

    Zephyr fell silent. "Do you regret your choice so deeply?" Piper scoffed at him, and he accepted her judgment. "The ignorance that once clouded my judgment, even after all that transpired between Mars and Mercury, I still believe it''s the right thing to do. Perhaps it is selfish."

    "Maybe, Piper," he admitted, turning to face her with weary eyes. "But for now, I''ve given Henryk a second chance. Now, it''s up to us to see it through."

    Piper scoffed once more. "Do it yourself."

    Zephyr scratched the back of his head, his gaze drifting to his holstered pistol. "I expected as much," he sighed. "I can''t blame you. I know your history with House Mars, especially Henryk..."

    "Please, Zephyr," Piper implored, grabbing the cuff of his jacket, tears streaming down her face once more.

    "It''s out of my hands now," he sighed, witnessing Piper''s heartbreak before him. He watched as her eyes filled with shame, dread, and an impending sense of doom. Yet, she remained bound by the loyalties she had forged. Her gaze returned to that dark tunnel, wondering what thoughts raced through Henryk''s mind at that very moment.

    "Fleeboy," Zephyr uttered.

    All eyes converged on Edward. Arthur had resumed his seat, but those with a discerning eye would''ve noticed his heightened vigilance. Melissa busied herself packing and decontaminating her medical tools, while Edward wasted no time. He began donning his armor, securing his weaponry. Fleeboy turned toward him, his presence eerily silent.

    "I want you to go on a round," Edward ordered, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Make sure we''re truly alone. While you''re at it, head up to the roof and scout the place."

    Fleeboy didn''t utter a word; he simply nodded. To those nearby, it might have appeared as if his tongue slithered across too many teeth, but they were too distant to perceive the peculiar action. "Okay," Fleeboy responded plainly.

    He rose from the shadows, donning his ceremonial helmet. A satisfying click secured it in place. His axe gripped firmly in his hands, and his helmet adorned with skull paint and blood smears, Fleeboy''s eyeplates concealed any emotion. His presence felt as cold and unforgiving as metal as he departed, descending further into the factory''s depths.

    Meanwhile, Edward had fastened his armor, clutching his helmet beneath his arm, and his rifle strapped to his back. He turned and navigated the narrow, dimly lit tunnel. "Henryk," he called out to the boy on watch.

    Henryk turned to face him, his helmet secured, hands resting on the pommel of his blade. The metal helm swiveled to meet Edward. "Can I go now?"

    "We still haven''t established a schedule," Edward replied.

    Henryk scoffed. "I''ve been freezing my butt off over here while you guys have been doing nothing," he retorted, peering down the hall. "What''s happening down there?"

    "Talks of mutiny," Edward disclosed, the words hanging heavily in the air.

    Henryk sighed, and Edward approached, towering over the still-seated Henryk. "What happened with you and Piper? She seemed rather upset," Edward inquired.

    Henryk scoffed once more. "The nerve... for her to cry."

    Edward shrugged nonchalantly. "Is this another one of those ''Henryk and Piper'' things, or should I make an effort to understand it?" He flashed a wide grin, his lips curling playfully. "Because, one day, you''ll make her cry, and then I''ll have to listen to you two..."

    "Enough," Henryk snapped.

    Edward''s eyes widened. "Whoa, you''re seriously pissed."

    "No shit," Henryk snapped back, his hand gesturing around. "We''re stranded in a frozen wasteland on some backwater planet that''s clearly uninhabitable. Edward, what''s the plan?"

    "''Edward, what''s the plan?''" Edward echoed, shaking his head and ruffling his hair. "That''s the question on everyone''s mind, isn''t it?"

    Henryk sighed. "You''re our leader."

    Edward''s shoulders shrugged with uncertainty. "Haven''t you felt it? Not much of a leader if the headmaster and the academy heads put me in charge, but now, with this looming threat of a..."

    "Mutiny," Henryk interjected, his voice hushed. A heavy silence descended upon them as the word hung in the air.

    "Yes, a mutiny," Edward acknowledged, his voice tinged with concern. "How did you know?"

    Henryk inclined his head down the dimly lit hall.

    "Piper warned you?" Edward inquired, a sly smile curving his lips as he wrapped his arms around himself. "What a gal, Henryk. She''s from a completely different house, and even after all the trials you two have endured together, she''s still trying to save you."

    "I am a loyal servant of Mars, a knight," Henryk asserted, his dark eyes piercing Edward''s with an intensity that matched the blue of Edward''s own. He gestured down the hallway. "Especially, for these disgusting dogs of the emperor."

    Edward sighed, seeking to bridge their understanding. "Listen, I get what you mean, but..."

    "They were trying to convert me," Henryk confessed.

    Silence descended once more, but there was no peace in it. Henryk watched as Edward''s brow arched and a vein throbbed on his temple. Edward paused, tilting his head and body to face the distant light at the end of the corridor.

    "You''re kidding?" Edward looked on, his shock undisguised.

    Henryk scoffed. "Would I really lie about something like this?" he countered.

    Edward shook his head, his fingers curling into tight fists, and his jaw clenched. "Zephyr, that fucking bastard. Even after all the things that have happened between us, the nerve."

    Henryk shook his head, but Edward pressed on. "The nerve," he repeated with venom lacing every word. "Even after what happened with Sarah, with you, and with..." He trailed off. "That bastard is going to try and poach my ace, even after all of that. He''s dead."

    Throughout their conversation, Henryk remained silent. Edward finally turned to face him, the anger dissipating from his features as he let out a heavy sigh. "What are we going to do, Edward?" Henryk asked again.

    Edward, now irritated, turned to Henryk. "What do you think we should do, druid?" he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "I wanted to leave them behind and complete the mission on our own."

    "Ed, you''re not a fool," Henryk interjected, one hand still resting on his blade''s hilt while the other gestured down the corridor. "One lone house can''t stand against what''s out there. That''s why we were able to gather so many allies."

    "...and, like the core worlds do," Edward turned back to Henryk. "They fight, they bicker, and they don''t accomplish anything. Henryk, we should gather our allies and leave this place."

    "Then what?" snapped Henryk, his tone filled with skepticism. "Do you really believe they''re going to let us leave?" He scoffed at the notion. "Everyone here harbors grudges or rivalries. Within the desolation of a world that nobody watches, there''s ample room for things to go wrong."

    Ed''s laughter was dry as he responded, "Then we eliminate those who stand in our way."

    "You want to slaughter dozens of people," Henryk retorted, his voice laced with incredulity. He pointed emphatically at the distant light at the end of the tunnel. "Let''s not forget that the houses here have brought their own assortment of aces and sanctioned wizards and witches from the empire," he said, listing names on his fingers. "They are all skilled in firearms, mechs, and blade combat. We may kill many, but we will undoubtedly fall due to their skills and numbers. Logan the Paladin of Neptune, Miya The Witch of Venus, and Aedan The Warmaster of Pluto."

    Henryk''s breath grew heavier as he ran through their weaponry, their armaments, and their skills in his mind, trying to calculate the odds. Ultimately, it all boiled down to numbers. Whichever side had the strongest houses on their side would emerge victorious, and the losers... decimated.

    "Why are you so fixated on violence?" Edward asked. "You share the same grudges and rivalries. You should..."

    Henryk cut him off with a shake of his head. "I won''t attack them like this," he declared. He tilted his head slightly. "They''re all frightened and trying to make sense of this. This mission was never meant to unfold like this, and now they''re all..."

    "It doesn''t matter," Edward interjected, turning towards him. "Are we seriously going to continue acting like any of this will matter? That those in the room will survive what''s coming?"

    Ed didn''t need to see Henryk''s face to sense the shock that washed over him. Henryk''s fingers trembled on the sword hilt, but he steadied himself.

    "No," he asserted resolutely.

    Edward sneered. "You''ve known where this path was leading, and now you lack the resolve to see it through?"

    Henryk''s grip tightened as he locked eyes with Henryk. "Don''t speak like that," he retorted, his voice quivering.

    "Edward, this path¡ªI acknowledge that I''ve been aware of it¡ªbut in shadows and darkness. I never knew that..."

    "You knew enough," Edward cut him off.

    "Edward, this is something that can''t be undone once it''s set in motion," Henryk argued fervently. "This will be felt not only on the core worlds but throughout the entire galaxy. There has to be another path. There must be another way!"

    Before Edward could respond, they heard it¡ªa woman''s scream, prompting them into action. They sprinted down the corridor until they emerged into the sparse light of the factory interior. Above them, they heard the clattering of something on the scaffolding of the factory.

    The eerie echoes of power armor boots reverberated through the rusted, worn metal steps. Two figures raced down those unforgiving stairs. One was a girl in a tattered, stained dress, her disheveled brown hair resembling a storm raging across her features. Her bare feet gripped the chipped metal steps with a tenacity born of desperation, while her wide, fearful eyes cast haunting echoes through the sprawling ruins.

    With each frenzied step, she let out piercing screams that resonated within the vast expanse of these desolate ruins. Pursuing her, a male figure closed the distance in a blur, a playful smirk dancing across his features as his obsidian eyes bore down on her.

    Fleeboy''s predatory gaze was locked on the trembling girl, his dark eyes fixated on the pulsating veins of her exposed neck. The scent of her fear wafted toward him, and he savored it like a connoisseur savoring fine wine.

    Descending the steps, the girl darted away from Fleeboy as House Mars and its allies scrambled to their feet. Hands reached for weapons, some out of the heightened tension in the air, some in a show of solidarity with House Mars, and others with a resolve to put an end to the political machinations unfolding before them.

    In her frantic escape, the girl slipped and sprawled onto the metal plating. Henryk and Edward watched in stunned silence as she lay there for a fleeting moment, her bloodied hand releasing a shard of glass that soared through the air before their eyes returned to Fleeboy.

    "Where are you running, sweetheart?" Fleeboy taunted with an unsettling mixture of mirth and malevolence in his voice. The girl''s eyes widened in sheer terror, her heart constricting as she scanned the growing crowd of onlookers.

    "Help me!" Her desperate plea pierced the room once more, and all eyes fixated on the girl as she frantically clawed her way backward, seeking refuge among the crowd.

    "No one is going to help you," Fleeboy''s words slithered from his lips, his gloved hand descending to the hilt of his axe strapped to his back. He drew the weapon, its warm light casting eerie reflections across the room, crafted from an unknown metal of a bygone era.

    Fleeboy''s smirk deepened, and the girl''s eyes widened in sheer horror as she inched backward, still facing her tormentor. She watched him thumb a button on the axe''s handle, and her scream tore through the air, chilling the souls of those who bore witness.

    It was a blood-curdling cry that sent shivers down spines, raised hairs on necks, and made some step back in shock and disbelief. Yet, as Fleeboy lunged forward, he was intercepted.

    In a swift, overhead chop, Fleeboy aimed to cleave the hapless girl in two, but salvation arrived in the form of Logan. His disheveled, short blond hair appeared like a wild tempest as the sound of his glaive clashing against Fleeboy''s archaic blade ignited a battle in earnest.

    Fleeboy executed a graceful pivot, leaping backward to create some distance. Logan maintained his battle stance, wielding the glaive with one outstretched arm, the rapid unfolding of events dawning on the spectators.

    With his hood pulled back, Logan''s junior status within the academy became apparent. It was a formality some houses adhered to, while others, like Mars, saw little use for such conventions.

    His power armor gleamed with sporadic, ethereal blue luminescence, casting eerie glimmers through the shrouded coverings. Logan was cloaked in a heavy duster, concealing his armor, and his gloved hands firmly grasped the glaive. His narrowed gaze remained locked on Fleeboy, whose intentions were shrouded in darkness.

    "What are you doing?" Fleeboy''s voice pierced the tense air.

    "I could ask you the same," Logan retorted with a tone laden with bitterness. He glanced briefly at the terrified girl huddled behind him before returning his scorching gaze to Fleeboy. "You seem hell-bent on killing this woman."

    Fleeboy''s demeanor shifted, his playful visage giving way to an expression devoid of mirth. Logan could sense the annoyance and suppressed rage seething beneath the surface, yet, to his surprise, Fleeboy donned a smirk.

    Raising his axe toward Logan, Fleeboy stated, "She is mine to deal with. This factory likely served as the base of operations for those bandits. Are you truly willing to play the knight in shining armor for a gang of filthy bandits?"

    Logan''s grip on the glaive tightened. "We don''t know that for certain," he replied.

    Fleeboy shook his head in dismissal. "¡­and I''m not interested in finding out," he retorted, refocusing his axe on Logan. "Are you going to protect my enemy?"

    "Enemy?" Logan snapped, his free hand hovering protectively over the trembling girl. "She''s just a girl. Clad in a dress, not in the attire of the bandits we''ve encountered. You can''t possibly¡ª"

    "I don''t care."

    The room fell into a stunned silence at those words, and all eyes turned to the unexpected source. Arthur had risen to his feet, feeling the weight of his substantial firepower, his helmet adorned with aces and champions of rival houses.

    Henryk and Edward both tensed, their hands inching toward their weapons.

    "August!" Henryk''s voice cut through the tension.

    All eyes shifted to him, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The temperature had changed, and they could palpably feel the impending storm. Two years of regrets, rivalries, and animosity formed within the crucible of their alma mater, a powder keg now primed to explode in the ruins of this desolate world.

    Fleeboy never turned away from Logan, his finger aimed at him like the barrel of a loaded gun. "Your life or hers," he intoned, his words hanging in the air like a sinister verse.

    A bead of sweat trickled down Logan''s temple, his heart pounding fiercely. The weight of the glaive felt crushing as he slowly lowered it. Yet, amidst the tension, he heard her¡ªa frightened, weary voice.

    "Logan!" the voice called out.

    Startled, Logan spun around to find Stella, their president, her rich chestnut hair concealed beneath her hood, her piercing blue eyes locked onto his. "Stella, what..."

    A sharp, stinging slap jolted Logan''s senses, causing him to wince in pain. An amused snort emanated from Fleeboy as the room''s tension hung thick in the air. Stella''s voice, filled with a mixture of anger and frustration, snapped through the growing turmoil.

    "What the hell are you doing!" she snapped, her fingers latching onto the cuff of Logan''s jacket, forcefully pulling him down to meet her gaze.

    "Why are you acting so irrationally?" she continued, casting a withering glance toward the trembling girl. "We don''t know this girl, and you''re willing to risk your life against the Flayer for what?"

    But Logan''s resolve remained unyielding, his grip on the glaive growing tighter. "Stella," he began, taking a deep breath before speaking, "I can''t just let this happen."

    "Yes, you can, and you are, right in front of you," she lectured him.

    But Logan remained steadfast. "No, this is wrong," he snapped, surprising himself with his calm expression.

    "I can take him," he declared.

    Stella couldn''t help but stifle a frustrated response. "Maybe," she conceded. "But are you really willing to risk life and limb?"

    "We''ll duel with blunted edges," Logan announced, directing his words toward Stella but clearly loud enough for Fleeboy to hear. In response, Fleeboy nonchalantly slung the weapon over his shoulder, sneering.

    "No," Logan echoed.

    "No?" Stella responded, sneering herself. "The Flayer seeks blood," she stated, turning back to Logan. "Don''t do this, Logan. I thought you had friends in House Mars. Do you really believe that killing one of their members in combat will preserve your friendships?"

    Logan shook his head. "It doesn''t matter." He shifted his attention to Fleeboy, his determination reignited. "It''s the right thing to do. That''s all that matters. As Logan of House Neptune, I can''t allow such an injustice to proceed. Come and fight me."

    A sly grin spread across Fleeboy''s lips as he reached for his helmet, which dangled from his belt, emitting an audible click as he fastened it in place.

    "No helmet," Fleeboy taunted.

    Logan scoffed in response. "You damn animal," he retorted. "A warrior''s face serves as inspiration to his comrades. Why would I hide behind such a thing?"

    Fleeboy''s laughter filled the room, causing a vein to throb on Logan''s brow. "That''s the fool''s response," Fleeboy retorted, placing his hand proudly on his chest before addressing the surrounding crowd. "I assume we''re following the academy''s rules on this."

    Logan nodded solemnly. "A duel to the death."

    Fleeboy chuckled, his amusement unbridled. "The moment I taste blood, I lose control," he declared, throwing his head back in raucous laughter, an unsettling sight that left the onlookers uneasy. "Very well then," he concluded, slamming his hand against his chest in agreement.

    "I am August of ''The True Sons,'' my genetic lineage stretches back to one of the first Knight Houses of Mars. We have earned the right to be called ''True,'' and you''ve earned the right for my axe to eviscerate you with its chains and rows of teeth," August declared with a fervor that echoed through the tense chamber.

    "Oh, really?" Logan responded coolly. "You''ve got such a nice and big speech. It makes me..."

    But sparks flew like ignited tempers in a powder keg. The battle raged with an intensity that adorned the grim scene with a deadly dance of sparks, amidst the remains of old and newly forged metal, all serving the will of the empire. Their movements were swift, a blur of arcs, cleaves, and slashes that left even seasoned warriors astonished by their speed.

    Henryk watched the furious combat unfold before him, the clash of blades and the clash of wills between two young men, now engaged in a duel that would determine the fate of a stranger.

    "This is wrong," Henryk muttered to himself as he began to move toward the tumultuous showdown. His hand rose, fingers splayed, ready to unleash a pacification spell. Yet, Edward''s hand settled on his shoulder, staying his magic.

    "Don''t try to stop me," Henryk snapped, his frustration evident.

    But Edward shook his head. "No," he replied, pointing toward the ongoing battle. "We can use this."

    Henryk stared at him, his confusion palpable. "What?" he stammered. "No, no, no, that''s Logan! He''s our friend. We''ve fought beside him. He''s just trying to save the girl."

    Edward shook his head once more. "Don''t interfere. Fleeboy may be a monster, but a monster is what we need right now. If Fleeboy defeats Logan in front of everyone, we might be able to turn the situation to our advantage."

    Henryk could feel the shock and disgust not only in his expression but also in the tremors coursing through his body. "That''s wrong, Edward," he snapped. "We should have intervened earlier."

    "Do not interfere, damn you if you do."

    "Then I''ll be damned," Henryk declared, raising his arm to cast the spell toward Logan and Fleeboy.

    Edward shook his head again. "You know damn well the spell won''t affect Fleeboy. You''ve seen him shrug off worse. You know what? Do it. Let it hit Logan and let Fleeboy be the monster. We can control the crowd and..."

    "You''re a real damn bastard," Henryk growled, and the spell dissipated in his hand. He thrust his arm down, his finger gripping his sword''s hilt, but he hesitated. His gaze remained locked on the fierce battle before him as Edward''s words washed over him.

    He watched as the axe came to life in motorized fury, its chains whirring with menace. Logan''s glaive, its tip crackling with energy, met it with fierce determination. The two weapons clashed, and Logan, his features now glistening with sweat, met August with unblinking eyes, reddened from the intensity of the battle. His heart raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he fought to overcome his adversary.

    Fleeboy was a savage beast, his teeth bared like a feral dog, growling beneath his breath as his blade sliced and cleaved through the air with a deadly grace.

    "What''s your plan then?" Ed asked, his voice edged with tension. "You''re going to charge in there and stop this battle? They''re already looking at us like we''re fools, and now they''re plotting a mutiny. I know they won''t let us escape."

    Henryk''s gaze remained fixed on the unfolding carnage. "And what do you suggest we do?" he snapped back.

    Ed''s grip on Henryk''s shoulder tightened, his voice as cold as steel. "Let Fleeboy finish him," he said. "Watch as Logan gets torn apart."

    Henryk''s eyes remained locked on the gruesome scene, unable to tear himself away. Logan, once strong and confident, was now wheezing, his breath growing shallow with each feeble thrust of his spear.

    Fleeboy''s blade hummed and roared with its unholy engine, its deadly song a haunting crescendo in the stifling air. The glaive and axe clashed and rattled through the battle, a mesmerizing dance of death.

    "We can control the situation with this," Ed whispered, his voice pulsing with authority in Henryk''s ears.

    As Ed released his grip, Henryk couldn''t help but remember the better days¡ªthe times he and Logan had spent together, the camaraderie forged through shared experiences and moments when death had hung over them by a thread. For a fleeting moment, he recalled the confident smile and the glaive that had once filled him with pride.

    Now, he watched as that friend, his fellow warrior, was reduced to nothing but a pawn in Fleeboy''s cruel game. With an avian helmet that seemed to dodge a final thrust, Fleeboy''s chainsaw teeth tore into Logan''s body, rending flesh from bone, and spraying blood in a gruesome arc.

    With a shudder, Logan stumbled and fell, his gaze unfocused as he stared down at his mangled body. Blood flowed freely from the gaping wounds, and his glaive clattered against the factory floor.

    Struggling to rise, Logan''s breaths came in ragged gasps as he staggered. He saw his House, his comrades, and he knew he had fallen in battle. How had it come to this? He heard the girl in the tattered dress crying and screaming, but it all felt distant and surreal. His ears grew heavy, his vision blurred, and he watched in a daze as they wailed his name¡ªLogan¡ªeach thump of his heart growing quieter.

    In the distance, Zephyr watched in stunned silence, and Henryk could imagine the other division leaders and their houses, all witnessing his comrade''s death. And there, among the onlookers, stood Stella.

    Disappointment hung heavy in the air, and Stella''s arms were wrapped tightly around herself. Her heart skipped a beat, and she cast a sidelong glance. In that fleeting moment, her immovable queen, bore a tear down her face.

    "I-I''m sorry, Stella," he stammered, but before any further words could escape, Fleeboy struck.

    With a brutal kick, he sent Logan sprawling onto his back, his roaring axe poised for the final blow. Logan winced, pain and fury etched across his features, but he was helpless. His gaze darted toward his glaive, his fingers clenching around it.

    However, Fleeboy''s power-armored boot came crashing down on his bare hand. Bones shattered, a scream filled the desolate factory, reverberating in Logan''s ears as Fleeboy grinned beneath his mask.

    Piper winced, her face contorted with horror, her hand instinctively reaching for her pistol. Yet, Zephyr''s grip tightened around her hand, a quiet urgency in his voice. "What are you doing?"

    "This is wrong, he''s going to..." Piper began, her voice trembling.

    Zephyr vehemently shook his head. "Don''t play the hero. The moment he senses any threat, he''ll turn on you. I am House Mercury, and I don''t intend to die at the hands of the ''Flayer.''"

    His words were stern, his resolve unyielding. It took a moment, but Piper sighed, her hand slipping away from her pistol. She couldn''t bear to watch any longer as the roaring teeth of the axe were about to rend flesh.

    Logan...

    He was about to die. In the ruins of a factory, sons and daughters of influential figures from across the galaxy honed their skills¡ªengineers, warriors, and politicians in the making. Yet, not one of them would step forward to help him now.

    Except... for one.

    Henryk brushed past Edward''s restraining hand, his determination set in motion. All eyes turned to Henryk as he charged forward, both feet pounding the ground. "Henryk!" Edward screamed, and Fleeboy''s helmeted gaze shifted, the avian visage sneering.

    "August!" Henryk''s voice echoed through the factory, piercing the tense silence. Piper and Zephyr swiveled their heads to see him, and even Stella couldn''t look away.

    With a burst of martial prowess, Henryk ignited purple bolts of lightning that cascaded across his body. He leaped into the air, his eyes radiating that same purple hue as he soared above. The revving of his sword became a blur of sound, and he clutched the hilt with both hands.

    Ripping the blade from its scabbard, he poised it with both hands, and a collective gasp escaped from the onlookers. Henryk chanted a spell, his voice ringing through the factory.

    "Hiorle!"

    Fleeboy recoiled, his legs sweeping backward, and the cold bore down on him instantly. Frostbite kissed his skin as his helmet''s eyeglasses frosted over. He struggled to catch his breath, perched on one knee, his axe now bereft of its menacing hum. Between them stood Henryk, eyes ablaze, as the bitter winds began to relent.

    A makeshift barrier of spikes sprang up, separating Logan from Fleeboy. Henryk yanked his blade from the chilled floor, his gaze locked onto Fleeboy''s wild eyes. The whirling storm ebbed away.

    Fleeboy scoffed and chuckled, his derisive tone slicing through the frigid air. "Really, Henryk? I know you''re fond of theatrics, but this, right here, in front of everyone?"

    "Me?" Henryk''s incredulous response spilled from his lips. He gripped his blade firmly with his one good hand, aiming it at Fleeboy. "This has gone far enough. Stand down, August."

    Fleeboy sneered, but Henryk paid him little heed. "Melissa!" he shouted, and the girl was still as ice. Her gaze fixed on the battle, while everyone else remained struck by shock.

    Henryk sighed, eyes never leaving Fleeboy, whose grip on his weapon grew tighter. "Melissa, I need you!" he bellowed into the crowd, finally prompting Melissa to spring into action. She dashed toward them, clutching her medical bag.

    "Christ," she muttered to herself, eyes wide, as she observed the blood gushing from Logan''s visceral wound. "Christ, Henryk," she said. "I don''t know if I can do anything about this."

    Henryk watched, his hand resting on her shoulder as a soothing purple light radiated from him, slowly reducing the size of Logan''s wound. His breaths were heavy behind his mask, his wide eyes darting, black spots dancing on the edges of his vision. "I''m healing him, but I''m not sure I have the skill to do more."

    She witnessed the wound shrink somewhat, but blood still spurted as skin stretched, and Logan cried out in agony. "Release him, Henryk," she implored, her hand on his trembling one as the purple light shimmered. "I''ll do what I can."

    Henryk steeled himself, moving over the crude ice defenses he had conjured earlier. Sword clutched in his right hand, he fixed his gaze on Fleeboy, whose actions grew increasingly erratic. His head bobbed back and forth, and he seemed to froth at the mouth.

    "August," Henryk said his name, but at the sound, he saw Fleeboy slam his palm against his helmet with such force that it startled everyone in the room.

    Stella stood with her house, urgency in her voice. "Someone grab Logan!" Several housemates rushed over, some doctors, others mere residents attached to the mission.

    Henryk felt it, something off and unsettling about August on a psychic level. He couldn''t pinpoint its origin or when it had begun, but it loomed like a gathering storm, dark and foreboding, threatening to engulf him.

    "Get¡­out of m-my way!" He screamed, his voice reverberating with feral, animalistic intensity. Henryk observed as Fleeboy''s left hand clutched his chest, where the gladius was housed. The blade was torn free, revealing its shimmering aquamarine surface, caught in the fiery moment. "August, enough!" Edward''s desperate plea rang out, but Fleeboy refused to acknowledge him.

    "Move out of my way, half-breed!" Fleeboy howled, but Henryk merely shook his head. He fastened his helmet securely and grasped his sword with both hands, the thud of his plasma pistol echoing in his awareness. He silently cursed himself for leaving his rifle behind but steeled himself for what lay ahead.

    "So, you''ll be the meat tonight, druid?" Fleeboy taunted with a perverse delight. "I''ll swallow your blood and gnaw on your bones!"

    With those ominous words, Fleeboy launched himself forward, and Henryk met his charge with a clash of blades. All around, spectators watched, poised like birds of prey, ready to swoop in at the right moment to seize victory or perhaps even obliteration.

    Arthur and Edward observed the escalating confrontation while Melissa and the other members of House Neptune struggled to staunch the bleeding. "This is getting ridiculous!" Arthur snapped, taking a step forward, but Edward halted him.

    "You want to wade into that?" Edward questioned, and Arthur sighed in resignation.

    They became a whirling dance of metal, their weapons clashing, and their armor absorbing the blows. Two sons of Mars locked in a deadly confrontation.

    Henryk deftly evaded a slashing attack and pounded his gauntlet against Fleeboy''s helmet, sending the boy stumbling back, head ringing. Henryk tightened his grip on his sword, cleaving an arc in Fleeboy''s armor.

    "Enough of this!" Henryk snapped. "Control yourself, August. Do not force my hand."

    Lifting the blade once more, he sliced off a piece of Fleeboy''s armor. Fleeboy, nimble and agile, dodged the next three blows and delivered a kick to Henryk''s midsection. Henryk gasped but regained his footing just in time to deflect Fleeboy''s subsequent attacks.

    Fleeboy''s left hand guided his gladius into the gap in Henryk''s armor, puncturing metal and drawing blood. In the next moment, the axe descended. A jagged piece of metal protruded from the fractured helmet.

    Henryk rolled away with his sword in hand, and for a brief moment, shock gripped the onlookers. The axe had pierced the helmet''s plating, rendering the right side, especially the eye area, into a twisted void. Fortunately, Henryk had escaped unharmed.

    Fleeboy raised himself breathlessly, pointing his axe once more at Henryk. "This is still a duel to the death," he sneered, determination etched in his gaze.

    Henryk''s gaze scanned the assembly of onlookers, landing on Arthur, Edward, the other houses, Piper, Melissa, and the residents of House Neptune. The air crackled with tension and the unsettling sense that this duel might culminate in a symphony of blood and metal.

    With purpose, Henryk rose once more, adopting his sword stance, his grip firm and determined. It felt like he held a spear, poised for a fateful strike. Fleeboy snorted dismissively and readied himself, brandishing his axe in one hand and the glaive in the other.

    "You''re not going to interfere!" Henryk declared, his voice firm and unyielding.

    Piper approached, her eyes glistening with near-tears, her fists clenched. Arthur and Edward turned to her as the clash of metal echoed through the area. She winced at the cacophonous symphony of war raging around her.

    Fleeboy charged with his axe and glaive at the ready. "Briskia!" Henryk''s command sent a forceful wave of air hurtling toward Fleeboy, who was flung backward, landing flat on his back. The wind was knocked out of him, but before Henryk could descend upon him, Fleeboy was back on his feet.

    Henryk''s blade grazed Fleeboy''s armor, but the glaive and gladius swiftly found their way through the gaps in Henryk''s armor. Fleeboy savored the irritation in Henryk''s expression as their weapons clashed.

    Edward scoffed at Piper. "You really think so little of Henryk?" He turned away from her, his gaze locked onto the duel. "You never really knew him. Maybe that''s always been your problem."

    Piper watched as the axe descended, but Henryk parried it with his sword. "Al Briska!" Henryk shouted once more, his voice now fierce and commanding. Fleeboy was hurled into the air, his eyes darting wildly within their sockets. His fangs protruded as green fluid oozed from his lips. "I''ll... eviscerate you!" he screamed, his body contorting with gruesome bone fractures and muscle convulsions.

    The onlookers averted their gaze, unwilling to witness the brutal transformation. Fleeboy landed gracefully on a nearby scaffolding with an astounding display of aerial prowess, and Henryk knew what was coming next.

    With a potent blend of his unique abilities and the might of his power suit, Fleeboy launched himself into the air, teeth clenched and determined. The scaffolding and railings shattered beneath him, sending bystanders fleeing to escape the impending chaos.

    Fleeboy''s scream filled the air, a wretched sound that forced those around to cover their ears. Blood trickled from Henryk''s own ears, but he remained steadfast. As the ground crumbled beneath him, he pivoted his body to swing his blade in response to the purring of the axe. The two combatants, one with a blade charged in purple electricity, the other with a flying power suit, met in a deadly clash of metal and will.

    Fleeboy arced through the air, and Henryk slashed with resolute defense. The very ground beneath them trembled and cracked as their bodies collided, a tumultuous clash of metal and lightning. Fleeboy found his footing in mid-air and propelled himself away from Henryk.

    Another swift exchange of slashes followed, and then, in stunned silence, Piper witnessed a pivotal moment. Fleeboy''s pauldron struck Henryk''s helmet with a sickening thud, the sound of blood sputtering into the air.

    "You bastard!" Henryk''s enraged voice reverberated through the tumult.

    Once more, Henryk''s blade locked with Fleeboy''s axe. "Yield or die!" Henryk demanded, but Fleeboy''s axe was sent even farther, and he soared through the air with the momentum of his strike. In that fleeting moment, they all saw it¡ªthe indigo eye shining within Henryk''s strange helmet, adorned with antlers.

    "Finish this, Henryk," Arthur uttered, his eyes closed in contemplation. His thoughts drifted to the August he once knew, that timid boy, and the questions that haunted them all¡ªwhere had it all gone wrong, and what had changed? Could it have been prevented? Where had the seeds of their downfall been sown?

    "No matter," Arthur mumbled as he opened his eyes. He watched as Henryk found an opening, his blade slicing through Fleeboy''s power armor, blood oozing from the wound. Fleeboy erupted in a fit of rage.

    The next blow was fiercer, an astonishing display of power as Fleeboy''s axe pounded upon Henryk''s guard. The room''s inhabitants narrowly dodged the blade as it impacted the wall.

    All eyes remained transfixed on the duel, witnessing Henryk''s relentless assault. He slammed his pauldron into Fleeboy''s helmet, sending him crashing to the floor. Fleeboy struggled to rise, but Henryk thrust his leg into Fleeboy''s body, sending him sprawling to the side.

    "Yield, or I won''t ask again!" Henryk''s scream filled the air.

    For a moment, nothing happened. Henryk stared at Fleeboy, his patience waning. He had asked the question repeatedly, but now it seemed Fleeboy was playing games.

    Fleeboy''s hands moved across his chest, drawing the ritualistic gladius. He lunged at Henryk, but this time Henryk was prepared. Fleeboy''s gladius was no match for the powered two-handed blade. It clattered to the floor, rendered useless.

    "Enough!" Henryk''s roar filled the chamber. In one swift motion, he drew his plasma pistol, and a scorching orange beam blazed through the air, severing Fleeboy''s hand from his body.

    Fleeboy''s scream was no longer that of a man; it had taken on a demonic, guttural quality. His remaining hand clutched at his wrist, while Henryk, breathing heavily, stood amidst the chaos, riddled with shallow cuts. Lost in the heat of battle, he hardly realized the extent of his own injuries.

    His sword was jammed into the earth, his posture slouched as he kept his gun hand steady. As Fleeboy writhed in agony on the ground like a creature possessed, hands went to weapons all around them. Henryk and the others watched as House Mars prepared to make their move.

    "You bastards!" Stella''s voice pierced the tension. Her hand moved towards the rifle slung across her body, aiming it at Henryk''s figure. House Mars observed with wary eyes as she held the weapon steady.

    "Stella, Stella, Stella," Henryk repeated, his gaze fixed on her. "Do you really want to play this game right now?" He snapped, ripping his blade from the earth and pointing it at her. Members of her house raised their weapons in response.

    Henryk didn''t make a move, but he scoffed, readying his blade. Fatigue hung heavy on his muscles, and the well of his magic was running dry. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the footsteps of approaching figures echoed in his ears.

    Edward aimed his rifle at another house, his knight ornate power armor gleaming in the flickering light of the room. The other houses hesitated, either backing away or remaining on the sidelines. Yet, a handful of influential figures among them waited, eager to turn this volatile situation into a golden opportunity.

    Arthur held his weapon level, a deterrent against anyone considering rash actions. The room crackled with tension, with every eye and weapon trained on the others. Some aimed their arms at House Mars, while others found allies and enemies in different quarters.

    Motivations ranged from the pettiest of grudges to age-old conflicts that transcended the stars and time itself. From the lowly offspring of industrial workers to the sons and daughters of planetary rulers and diplomats, all arms were at the ready.

    Amidst the ruins of this desolate world, Edward knew what loomed on the horizon. His eyes darted to his comrades and brothers from House Mars. He watched as Fleeboy retrieved his sword and moved towards them, taking a stance against their adversaries.

    "So, you''ll stand with us now?" Arthur quipped.

    Fleeboy sneered, his response dripping with defiance. "I am a Son of Mars."

    Edward observed, fully aware of what was at stake. Two teams, allies to be found within their own houses, or foes to grapple with and eliminate. In this complex political game of the academy, two years'' worth of rivalries and grudges were finally coming to a head.

 Chapter 2 - Mercurians See No Evil

    <u>Chapter 2 - Two Years Earlier</u>

    House Mercury had stood as an enduring pillar of the academy''s history, a house ingrained in its very soul for centuries. Through the changing tides of time, their culture thrived, unyielding. It was a place where the legends of the past met the heroes and heroines of the present, destined to carve their names into the annals of the solar system.

    Through revolts and wars, House Mercury had been unwavering, serving their emperor with distinction and pride. Their glory had resonated far and wide, as the planets of the Deacon System offered climates similar to Earth, transitioning from the warmth of summer to the encroaching chill of fall, both under the sun''s gaze and the enigmatic cloak of night.

    The heart of House Mercury, their main house, had withstood centuries, its architecture reflecting the passage of time while retaining a core design that carried the weight of tradition. It was a vast structure, an interconnected series of buildings resembling an expansive apartment complex, its red brick fa?ade punctuated by numerous windows offering glimpses into the lives of the house''s inhabitants.

    Yet, one window loomed larger and taller than the rest, more akin to a tower than a mere dorm room. It was from here that Zephyr, the president of House Mercury, surveyed the scene within.

    "Is she almost here?" Zephyr inquired, his gaze wandering from the room to the individuals gathered around him.

    Two distinct reactions met his question¡ªa scoff and a sigh, each originating from a different source, and each, Zephyr noted, revealing the respondents.

    "Margaret," he called out to the pair.

    Piper was the one to scoff, her wild orange hair cascading in unruly locks that reached down to the juncture of her neck and back. She clutched herself tightly, her blue eyes fixed in a fierce glare as one leg crossed over the other, a display of impatience.

    Margaret, on the other hand, exhaled a weary sigh, less annoyance and more the fatigue of one worn down by anticipation. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, draping gracefully over her chest. Her skin, pale and cold like a porcelain doll''s, contrasted Piper''s warmer ivory complexion.

    Both were petite, Margaret slightly taller than Piper, and freckles adorned their features, scattering across their chest and shoulders, though their identical uniforms concealed these subtle variations. These uniforms were in the colors of their house, the colors of Mercury.

    They donned jumpsuits reminiscent of old astronauts, the harmonious blend of orange and yellow hues reflecting the spirit of their house. Pockets adorned their coats and pants, and black military boots encased their feet. But a single detail set the three apart: a patch worn proudly on their right shoulders.

    They all wore patches, crudely sewn into their uniforms. Piper''s patch bore an eagle descending upon the moons nestled among the rings of Mercury. Melissa''s patch featured something similar, but with a significant change: the eagle morphed into a mechanical cog, entwined within the rings of the planet. Zephyr''s patch was distinctive, a lone figure hovering over the planet. The pilot, the mechanic, the leader¡ªeach of them brought together to confront impending threats.

    "Did you really need us all here?" Piper quipped, skepticism lacing her words.

    "Take it easy, Piper," Zephyr dismissed her concern with a casual wave of his hand. He left the window and moved to his desk, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. Piper and Margaret turned to face him.

    Zephyr lingered in his chair for a moment, his gaze returning to the window, which was perilously close to his desk, almost as if it were about to swallow the furniture. Through the glass, he could see the sun descending over the academy, casting its warm glow over the mountains of the world on which they found themselves.

    Settling into the plush red chair behind his desk, he ran his fingers along the real wood surface. The entire room was furnished with genuine wood, from the table and the chair to the flooring. The lights were dimmed, offering a toasty atmosphere with a fireplace attached to the right wall.

    Margaret and Piper observed him in silence. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden desk, and his deep brown eyes measured the pair.

    Finally, Zephyr spoke, his voice deliberate. "Yes, I did." The weight of his words hung in the room, permeating the air. Though Piper scoffed softly, her annoyance felt more subdued this time.

    Piper queried, "What do you need both me and Margaret here for?"

    Zephyr shrugged nonchalantly. "I imagined this was going to get a bit...complicated."

    "A bit complicated?" Margaret repeated, her voice now tinged with exasperation. "Stella, the president of House Neptune, is pacing toward our halls as we speak, followed by her champion, Zephyr."

    Her words carried a frigid chill, but Zephyr responded with a smirk that seemed to irk her more than she initially realized. "Let them come," he declared with a flick of his wrist.

    Piper didn''t hide her concern. "You''re not worried? You basically gave them a blank check to bring all their firepower and muscle."

    Now Margaret joined in with her own dose of sarcasm. "Yeah, how generous of you, letting them bring their full arsenal into our house."

    Zephyr waved off their worries once again. "...and they only brought their president and Logan."

    Piper and Margaret shared a questioning look. "You''re really not worried?" Margaret inquired, her voice laced with disbelief.

    "If I was worried, our people would''ve had it under control," Zephyr stated with an air of confidence.

    Piper chuckled at his response. "You really think our guys could handle Logan?" she quipped.

    Zephyr grinned. "With enough of our people... we can take on anyone."

    A moment of silence settled in the room as both Melissa and Piper turned their attention back to Zephyr. He brushed it off and shifted his gaze to Margaret. "Did you do what I asked before coming here?"

    Margaret nodded. "Every door is closed and locked," she responded with a resigned sigh. "I don''t know how you plan to get out of this one, Zephyr."

    Zephyr shook his head. "We''ve been through worse. Having everyone lock their doors for a couple of hours won''t do much."

    Piper scoffed. "It will if some of them are stuck in dorms without power, running water, or even bathrooms, forced to share a two-person room with six others."

    Zephyr shrugged. "We all had to go through it, Piper," he said, casting a meaningful glance at the two girls. "We all had to endure it. This will pass, but to forewarn..."

    Piper rolled her eyes. "You already know the pilots won''t be happy about this."

    Zephyr turned to her, a note of frustration in his voice. "Spoiled brats."

    "Hey," Piper shot back, her tone sharpening at Zephyr''s comment. "Try telling everyone to stay in their rooms when some of them have to endure dorms without power or bathrooms. You''re asking us to support this?"

    Margaret nodded in agreement. She turned to Zephyr and said, "You know how you live, Zephyr. It''s easy for you, and it''s easier for me and Piper. But for some of our senior mechanics, they''ll be forced to share rooms with freshmen. We need a better solution to bridge the gap."

    Zephyr leaned back in his seat, sighing. "Look, this is all we can do for now. They can keep their doors closed for a few hours."

    Margaret hesitated but eventually nodded in agreement. "Fine. But why is Stella even here? What''s going on?"

    Zephyr''s silence was unsettling. Piper repeated his name, her voice tense. "Zephyr, what happened?"

    "Remember Simon?" Zephyr finally spoke.

    "Simon?" Margaret repeated, looking puzzled. "I can''t say that I do."

    Piper stood abruptly, her eyes wide and alert, focusing intensely on Zephyr. "You can''t be serious," she began, directing her words at Margaret, but her gaze remained fixed on Zephyr. "He was one of my people. He left a few days ago for a different..."

    Piper fell strangely quiet. Her eyes widened, and she fixed Zephyr with a piercing glare. "You didn''t," she uttered, the words laden with a potent mixture of anger and menace.

    Margaret was caught in the tension between the two. Her black hair spilled over her face as she tried to make sense of the escalating situation. "Piper, what''s going on?"

    Piper''s eyes grew wider, her temper flaring. With a sudden burst of energy, she pushed her chair back, sending it clattering across the floor. She stormed toward Zephyr''s desk, her gaze locked onto his. "You didn''t," she repeated, her voice trembling with fury.

    "I did what I had to do," Zephyr replied, his tone deceptively composed.

    "You heartless bastard!" Piper shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I wrote his transfer papers for Neptune."

    This revelation drew a chuckle from Zephyr. "What''s so funny?" Piper snapped, her anger unabated.

    But Zephyr waved her off. "And you didn''t discuss this with me?"

    Piper''s blood ran cold, and her eyes darted between anger and confusion. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "I didn''t think I needed your permission for a transfer."

    Zephyr scoffed, leaning back in his chair and pointing at Piper. "Don''t you understand how we operate?" He extended his hand, forming it into a clenched fist that quivered. "We are House Mercury, an unbreakable fist. But to remain strong, we need numbers."

    Piper shook her head. "Even if they''re just average?" She scoffed. "I found us a recruit as good, if not slightly better than Simon because he''s from Neptune."

    Zephyr leaned forward, his smirk intact. "You want me to be pleased? If you truly wanted my approval, you could''ve traded Simon for two new recruits."

    Margaret interjected with a hint of skepticism. "Is it all about manpower to you, Zephyr?"

    Zephyr nodded, his eyes locked on Piper. Her look of disdain bore into him, her lips trembling with pent-up irritation.

    Piper jerked her head back and let out a laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. "You''re a damn fool, Zephyr," she spat, raising her fist and extending her fingers in quick succession, as if each raised finger was a punch aimed at him. "There are hardly enough beds or rooms to go around, the lower floor bathrooms are useless, and I''ve been hearing reports that some boys have taken to using the girls'' bathrooms. Don''t get me started on our mech situation."

    Zephyr''s smirk remained as Piper continued her tirade. "There''s a severe shortage of mechs, and the parts we need to repair them are even scarcer," Piper declared.

    She paused, pressing her fingers to her temple, and her voice softened. "Zephyr, what are you thinking?" She inquired, her frustration barely contained.

    Zephyr rose slowly from his seat, his eyes locked on the two girls. He let out a heavy sigh before he spoke. "Have you lost all faith in me?" he questioned, the weariness of his voice permeating the room.

    Piper''s eyes widened at his words. Her lips quivered as anger flared in her gaze, but she held her tongue when Margaret chimed in. "Never," Margaret declared, her tone laced with loyalty. "But you can''t keep us in the dark, Zephyr. We''re your division leaders, and you''ve left us in the dark about why Stella and Logan from Neptune are coming here."

    "You can''t blame us for having questions," added Piper.

    Zephyr nodded, acknowledging their concerns. "Alright, fine," he conceded with a dismissive wave. "Stella and Logan are coming because of what I believe happened with Simon and his girlfriend, or more specifically, Simon''s girlfriend."

    "What happened with them?" Margaret inquired.

    A bead of sweat rolled down Zephyr''s temple as he hesitated. His hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, and he avoided direct eye contact. "What happened, Zephyr?" Piper pressed, her annoyance flaring again.

    "Clive and his gang spotted her," Zephyr uttered softly. He strode over to his desk and retrieved a bottle of ale he kept for moments like these. As the bottle thudded on the desk, he noticed the two girls with open mouths, their stares of shock locked onto him. He popped open the bottle and poured himself a drink.

    "Clive!" Piper exclaimed, her voice thundering as she lashed out at the desk. Her palms slapped against the wood. "You fool!" she snapped.

    "Careful, Piper," Zephyr retorted with a cold, calculated tone. "We may be friends who''ve known each other for years, but I am Zephyr, the president of House Mercury. Don''t forget that."

    "You speak highly of yourself," Margaret snarked. "Even though your position was granted by those who surround you. You still don''t heed the advice of those who care for both you and this house you hold dear."

    Piper looked at Zephyr with concern. "What did Clive tell you?"

    Zephyr let out a weary sigh. "He told me that he and his gang were out drinking or whatever they do. They saw her walking back from class, and they..."

    "Jesus Christ," Melissa interjected, rising to her feet. "Did they..."

    "They didn''t rape her, if that''s what you''re asking," Zephyr clarified.

    "Christ, Zephyr," Piper exclaimed. "That''s beside the point."

    Zephyr turned toward her, his voice gaining an unexpected intensity. "You understand the price of leaving Mercury."

    Piper''s words erupted in a shout. "Logan left because I approved it!" she screamed back at him.

    "...and that''s not the primary issue here," Melissa chimed in, redirecting their attention. "Logan''s girlfriend had no part in this. She''s a true descendant of Neptune, isn''t she?"

    Zephyr sighed, and his sigh said more than words ever could.

    A rare smile played on Melissa''s lips. "So that''s why the president of Neptune is coming with her champion," she mused, taking a determined step forward. "Clive''s really done us in."

    The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, and Piper clutched her head with both hands. "We''ll have to hand over Clive," she declared.

    Zephyr''s fist came down hard on the desk, causing both girls to startle at the sound. They snapped their attention back to him.

    Zephyr raised a finger. "Clive is a loyal son of Mercury. True, he may act..."

    "Monstrous and nearly psychopathic," Margaret interjected, her sarcasm evident.

    Zephyr shot her a warning glance and continued. "He''s a formidable warrior, a true son of the planet. He craves a challenge."

    "Some challenge," Piper remarked. "A challenge that led Clive to beat a girl half his size. Such a big, proud man," she sneered, her smirk revealing her scorn.

    Zephyr sighed. "I''ve already imposed a punishment on Clive," he explained, gesturing toward the empty chairs. "That''s why he''s not sitting with you now."

    Piper inquired, "Where is he?"

    "Out on a mission with the rest of his group. I''ve sent him and his crew to the far reaches for a more demanding mission along the rims. They won''t be back for a while."

    Melissa and Piper both breathed sighs of relief, but Piper couldn''t help but confront Zephyr. "So, we''re dealing with all this... and he''s not even here to face the consequences."

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    Melissa scoffed. "You''re protecting him."

    Zephyr turned back to them, took a sip of his drink, and savored the fiery sensation on his tongue and lips. "Things are going to change this year," he declared, drawing the full attention of the girls.

    "What do you mean?" Piper asked.

    Zephyr looked at her, raising his fist and dropping a finger with each word he spoke. "This year, I plan to fortify our house. Manpower, comfort, weaponry, mechs¡ªeverything. I believe we can strengthen House Mercury."

    Melissa and Piper exchanged glances, one of curiosity and the other, suspicion. "How so?" Melissa inquired, drawing everyone''s attention. "What makes this year different? What has changed?"

    "First off... Clive," Zephyr began, and he anticipated their groans of annoyance, but he dismissed them. "I know you two don''t like him, but Clive serves a purpose."

    "Doesn''t every tool have a purpose?" Margaret interjected.

    Zephyr shook his head. "This one does." He extended his hand behind him, and the girls'' eyes followed, gazing out of the window into the endless cosmic abyss. "Clive may be a beast, but in this power struggle, he''s a valuable asset. Since he arrived, he''s been a fierce warrior and pilot, leading countless successful missions into the depths, bringing back treasures and knowledge. Everything you see around us, the reason our lives aren''t in shambles, it''s due to this."

    He paused, gesturing around him. "Listen, this is a challenging time with the new arrivals looming, but we can''t just discard someone who''s trained and capable of handling level five missions." His gaze sharpened on Margaret. "Come on, Margo," he said softly, and she felt a moment of weariness but strengthened her resolve. "Remember how hard it was for us in the beginning. We can utilize his skills to achieve our goals. He''s eager and willing to take our house''s banner to the stars. He''s willing to¡ª"

    "Harm, kill, steal," Piper interjected, her voice dripping with acidic disdain as she confronted Zephyr. "Quit sugarcoating the kind of man Clive is. You know perfectly well why you keep him around."

    Margaret sighed. "Zephyr," she spoke softly, her eyes locked onto his. "You''re very focused on what a person brings to the table, but not on the nature of their soul. You''re too afraid to let go of these broken or dangerous individuals who do more harm than good."

    A heavy silence settled in, and Zephyr offered a smirk. "Thanks for your advice," he retorted. "But I know what I''m doing."

    With those parting words, the trio was on the verge of responding, but they heard a knock at Zephyr''s office door. They exchanged knowing looks, recognizing who had arrived.

    Zephyr turned to them with a purposeful gaze, and their previous arguments quickly faded. Piper''s annoyance, Melissa''s skepticism, and Zephyr''s warmth were replaced with an icy chill. Their adversaries had arrived, and there was no time for discord.

    The envoys of the ocean planet sought them, and they had come with demands. Zephyr pressed a button on his desk and spoke into it. "Let them in," he commanded, and within moments, the door swung open.

    Piper observed Rahiel, the vigilant guardian stationed by Zephyr''s door, as he watched them with a firm grip on his rifle and clad in rugged protective gear. Following them, Logan and Stella entered the room, and the door snapped shut behind them.

    An uneasy silence settled over the five occupants. Stella and Logan, the Neptune intruders, had arrived. Piper''s gaze shifted to their forms, taking note of Logan in his full battle armor, the metal of his power suit gleaming, and the trident firmly gripped in his right hand. But it was their composure that seized her attention. Logan exuded confidence, and his power-armored boots creaked ominously on the wooden floor, far more pronounced than Stella''s delicate steps.

    Stella, with her long black hair, donned a deep blue pilot uniform. Every cuff meticulously arranged, and each crease and seam painstakingly ironed, all framed by her cold blue eyes. They both wore the unmistakable blue of Neptune.

    "Stella... Logan," Zephyr greeted them, resettling behind his desk.

    Logan approached the table, his gaze briefly scanning Piper and Margaret, then fixing on Stella. Meanwhile, Stella neared his desk, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes piercing as she gazed down at him.

    But it was Logan who broke the silence. "Clive isn''t here," he declared.

    "Indeed," Zephyr responded. "Clive left on a mission quite some time ago."

    Stella''s laugh, forced and ironic, echoed through the room. "Really?" She questioned, her gaze shifting away from Zephyr to focus on the girls by his side, the weight of her scrutiny palpable. "You understand the difficulties we''ll face with the incoming students, I assume. The need to cover expenses for food, necessities, and utilities, and the most efficient way to do that is..."

    "Yes, yes, I''m aware," Stella''s interruption cut Zephyr short. "But you sent out Clive on a mission just hours ago, when he and a few members from your house attacked one of my female members."

    Zephyr fell into silence. His hand moved to his chin, and he turned to Logan and Stella. "What''s all this about?" he inquired, his finger pointing toward Logan. "Why is your champion armed and prepared for battle?" A forced chuckle escaped him, even more strained than he had realized. "Let''s have a conversation..."

    "I believe it''s far too late for a conversation in light of what has occurred," Stella remarked.

    Zephyr nodded in agreement, but he felt a slow trickle of sweat along the side of his face. "It seems like you''re protecting him," Logan suggested, taking a seat on the bed''s edge. "Seems like you''ve sent him on a lengthy mission to keep him occupied until this blows over."

    Stella''s smirk returned as she turned back to Zephyr. "Zep, you know what I detest most in this world?" She inquired.

    Zephyr met Stella''s defiance with a casual shrug. "How about you enlighten me," he suggested, placing the bottle on the table and beginning to pour drinks. "How about you enlighten me, but over a drink."

    Logan''s eyes widened, forming an intriguing ''o'' at the proposition. "I wouldn''t mind a drink," he said, raising a hand to signal his agreement.

    Stella, however, promptly shot him down. "You will do no such thing," she asserted.

    Logan sighed heavily and dismissed the idea with a wave of his free hand. Although the gesture was subtle, everyone in the room caught it. Zephyr''s thoughts held a faint trace of a smirk at Logan''s reaction. "Something for later," he whispered under his breath.

    All eyes remained locked on Zephyr, but there was one person in the room who differed in her approach. Piper asked, "Is Simon and his girlfriend okay?"

    Stella scoffed in response. "How would you feel if you got attacked in the middle of the night by a gang of boys?" She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Zephyr, give us Clive, now."

    Zephyr shrugged his shoulders. "Stella, he''s on a mission deep in the core. You know how challenging it is to reach people out there..."

    "Try it," Logan interjected.

    Zephyr scoffed and attempted to brush it off. "What do you intend to do?"

    "Administer justice," Stella declared, gesturing around the room. "I''m not going to let the academy, especially as new students are about to arrive in the coming hours, perceive us as weak just because when a house struck us, we didn''t take action."

    Margaret''s eyes widened at Stella''s words. Her gaze settled on a particular chair, and she scowled at the spot. Clive, the rascal, had caused them countless problems before, and now he was gone, leaving them to face the consequences of his actions.

    Zephyr mused aloud, "What would hypothetically happen if I didn''t give you Clive..." He paused and gestured around them. "What could Mercury House offer Neptune House to make amends for this transgression? Trust me, I sympathize."

    Logan chuckled. "Your sympathy means nothing, Zephyr."

    "I''m actually being quite generous considering you poached one of my teammates," Zephyr retorted.

    Stella winced. "You have the audacity to talk about poaching teammates, roster-stealer," she fired back at Zephyr. However, a heavy sigh escaped her. She leveled her gaze at him. "Enough of this," she commanded, sweeping her hand around the room once more. "Give us Clive, and this is the last time I will ask you."

    "...and what if I don''t?" Zephyr dared, his tone unwavering.

    Stella''s countenance darkened, her features etched in steel. She leaned forward, resting both hands on the desk, and her gaze pierced deep into his eyes. "You want war?" she challenged.

    Piper and Margaret watched in disbelief. Their eyes darted to Logan, catching the sharpness of his words, but it was the frigid acceptance that sent shivers down their spines.

    "Are you willing to go to war with Mercury?" Zephyr parroted her question, his own eyes narrowing as he saw something. A subtle flicker of wavering resolve, and he knew he had her. He rose from his seat, now towering over Stella, and he had her right where he wanted. "You think you can win a war against us?" he asked, surveying the room. Logan''s frozen expression caught his attention. He wondered if their champion had drawn blood¡ªa useful leverage.

    Logan sneered, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We''ve heard tales of House Mercury. Rumors that you''re doing some strange things to your house to cope with your bloated roster. I wonder how many of your members are any good."

    Zephyr quipped back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Funny, I''ve heard things about you, Logan of Neptune. Strange things with your housemates, especially the men."

    Logan''s eyes widened in fury, his grip on the trident tightening. He pushed off the table he had leaned against. "You have something to say, say it!"

    Piper and Margaret were ready to defend Zephyr, but Stella intervened, running toward Logan. "That''s enough!" she shouted into his face, leaving Logan stunned and staring back at Zephyr''s triumphant smirk.

    Margaret couldn''t help but marvel at Zephyr''s talent for riling people up. She had known him for years, with all the facets of his personality, but she couldn''t deny that he had an uncanny ability to provoke others.

    ''Get them angry, point out their weaknesses, and coax them into exposing themselves. That''s the key to campus politics and, more importantly, our survival.''

    Hot-headed, impulsive, and perhaps harboring secrets. Zephyr now possessed newfound insights into Logan''s character. He briefly regretted not taking the time to get to know Logan. After all, one should understand their friends as well as their enemies.

    "What''s your decision, Stella?" Zephyr asked. Stella paused, and Logan began to regain his composure. Zephyr wrapped his arms around himself, a sardonic grin reappearing on his face. He spread his hands wide. "We can do whatever you want," he taunted. "War, beatings, or brawls... the choice is yours. Mercury will endure, and you know you can''t afford this battle."

    Stella lashed out at him, her words sharp and biting. "How do you know our strength?" She snapped. "You have no idea what we''re capable of, you dogs of Jupiter!" Her furious gaze swept around the room, locking onto the two girls. "What about you two? Aren''t you his advisors?" She yelled at them. "Do you have no shame for what Clive did to her? They found her... not with Simon, they just recognized that she and Simon were together. They hurt her, gave her black eyes and a beating."

    Stella took a breath to compose herself, then turned her anger back towards Zephyr. "You''re lucky she didn''t end up in the hospital," she continued. "And if she had ended up dead... you''d have an army on your doorstep right now."

    Zephyr nodded solemnly. "Exactly," he agreed, turning his gaze to the two girls. "There''s been far too much bloodshed, pettiness, and disagreement. We shouldn''t be pointing fingers, but seeking a solution."

    "Solution?" Logan scoffed. "You think you can just fix this mess?"

    Zephyr shot a glare at Logan, still harboring anger over his earlier comments. They could use Logan, but not at the moment; it was too heated. They''d deal with him later.

    "What do you want, Stella?" Zephyr asked again, his patience wearing thin.

    Stella grew exasperated. "You keep asking," she retorted, pointing at him.

    Zephyr sighed, determined to get to the heart of her anger. "I want to know the real reason you''re angry."

    Stella''s eyes burned with fury. "You still don''t get it," she spat. "Imagine being a girl in the middle of the night and having a bunch of men beat you. For what? For nothing!"

    "So, you want consequences for Clive," Zephyr deduced.

    Stella fell silent, her gaze shifting to Logan. Logan returned her look. "Is it what I want?" Stella spoke, sighing. She then turned her attention back to Zephyr. "I want peace, but my house won''t accept it... and you can''t change what Clive did."

    A sudden knock on the door disrupted their conversation. "Who is that?" Margaret asked, and the door swung open on its own.

    All eyes locked onto the newcomer. Simon, taller than most, had a slender but muscular build, wearing a Neptune pilot suit with a sense of identity. Glasses rested on his nose, and his chestnut skin complemented deep brown eyes. Curly hair adorned his forehead.

    Simon surveyed the room. "I want revenge for what he did to my girlfriend," he declared, striding inside.

    "Hah, the traitor returns," Zephyr taunted, but Piper shot him a warning look.

    Simon simply shook his head and approached Margaret and Piper. Zephyr extended his hand toward Simon, snarling, "I didn''t realize you brought lowly pilots to such important meetings."

    Stella shook her head, frustration written across her face. "Unlike you, I believe that my ''lowly pilots'' have a right to be heard, especially when it pertains to what''s happening."

    Simon stayed silent for a moment, and Zephyr''s piercing gaze bore into him. Eventually, Simon shook his head, exclaiming, "Traitor!" His voice dripped with disdain. "Even after all these years of serving you and this house, all the people who''ve died, friends along the way, you call me a traitor?"

    Zephyr casually shrugged his shoulders. For a brief moment, Simon''s gaze drifted toward Piper, but he sneered and redirected his attention to Zephyr.

    Simon let out a sigh, the weight of his proposal hanging heavily in the room. "Me and Clive," he announced, the words landing like a thud. "A trial by combat, a duel to the death."

    The room fell into stunned silence, then erupted with shouts. Zephyr shot up from his seat, and even the typically apathetic Logan was momentarily taken aback. Simon had delivered a heavy blow, and the message was clear: Clive''s fate would be decided through deadly combat. The question now was who would emerge victorious?

    "Christ, Simon," Zephyr muttered, and Piper sneered at the sight of Logan munching away in the corner. Zephyr always had a tray of food on the table, mainly for show. But it appeared they had bitten off more than they could chew.

    Logan joined Simon''s side, who still maintained that unwavering, cold expression of truthfulness. Everything was out in the open now, and it was understood that Clive''s destiny would be sealed in a battle to the death. The only remaining question was: who would come out alive?

    Zephyr whipped his head toward Stella, who appeared just as dazed as the rest. "Did you put him up to this?" He stood and slammed both hands on the desk. "Do you really want bloodshed? Do you want the newcomers to witness Neptune''s brutality?"

    Stella was about to respond, and Logan was as well, but then Stella shook her head. "What do you mean?" Logan inquired.

    Stella sighed, recognizing the determination etched into his features. "It''s his choice; they should have thought twice before attacking one of our own," Stella concluded.

    "And if he refuses?" Zephyr asked Simon, his confidence wavering as he gestured with his hand.

    Simon rolled his eyes, nonchalant. "This is Clive... he''s practically itching for a fight."

    Zephyr''s face lost some of its color, and Piper and Margoret exchanged knowing looks of concern. They had believed, if only briefly, that they had won. However, they knew the true nature of Clive. Who was Simon to believe he could challenge such brutality heroically?

    "So, you''ll just wait for him to return?" Zephyr inquired, attempting to put on a brave front.

    He clapped his hands together with a resounding thud, silencing the entire room. "Well, if that''s it, then..."

    Stella raised both her hands, a scoff escaping her lips. "Hold on," she asserted. "You''re not getting out of this one, that''s for sure."

    She extended her fingers emphatically. "I want a third, no, half, of whatever Clive hauls out from deep in the core, my choice. Then, I want to see a substantial amount of cash."

    Stella concluded her demand with a self-satisfied smile. Zephyr was about to voice his thoughts when the resounding clank of Logan''s spear striking the table echoed through the room. "If you feel that strongly about it," he spoke in a grave tone, "we can always bring the whole of Neptune down upon you. Fill this place with bullets, cut you all down with swords."

    Logan scoffed, clicking his lips and shaking his head as if reprimanding ignorant children. "We could always carry out a house execution. Mercury, like Mars, knows a whole lot about that."

    Zephyr, Piper, and Margoret winced at his words, contending with deep pain and intense anger, yet burying it beneath the surface.

    Following that, silence settled over the room. Zephyr reluctantly nodded, the gesture visibly causing him pain. He slowly knelt. "I accept these terms," he conceded.

    Stella''s smile widened, and she clapped her hands in delight. "That''s what I''m talking about," she declared. She gestured for Logan to join her side, with Simon trailing behind. Simon, however, spared Piper a final, fleeting glance, but she concealed her face, grappling with an overwhelming sense of shame. Her fist clenched momentarily before falling uselessly.

    Logan''s voice reverberated through the room. "Nonetheless, we can''t simply leave it at that. A show of force is necessary; we don''t want people thinking Neptune can be pushed around."

    Stella chimed in, her voice laced with venom. "Yeah, and I have an idea." Her eyes fixed on Piper and Zephyr as she raised a pointed finger.

    With a wicked smile, she continued, "A duel. Not one to the death, but a true academy-style victory."

    She turned to Simon, who exchanged a quick glance with her. Then, Stella swiveled her gaze towards Zephyr, who was grappling with the situation. "Our ace," she pointed toward Logan, who responded with a smirk. "Your ace," she concluded, turning her attention to Piper.

    Piper clutched her arms around herself, her eyes locked on Zephyr. "We''ll settle it in the field of battle. Logan and Piper will face off amongst the stars for the new recruits to witness. Whoever wins will undoubtedly earn far more fame than the other."

    "Isn''t that right?" Zephyr retorted.

    "Absolutely," Logan added. "You won''t be able to rely on that inflated roster, you Mercury dogs."

    "Easy with that!" Margoret snapped back.

    Stella shot Logan a meaningful glance, who played along with a mock irritation. She sighed and shook her head. "So, what happens if I win?" Piper inquired, taking a few steps forward to underscore her challenge.

    Logan couldn''t help but chuckle, his voice tinged with a mocking tone.

    Piper''s sneer deepened. "What''s so funny?" she retorted.

    "Well," he leaned in closer to her, dropping down on his knees, a wicked grin dancing across his face. Piper felt a vein pulsating on her forehead, his taunts grating on her last nerve. "Do you genuinely believe that a core world girl from Mercury," he continued, his tone condescending, "can defeat the pride and joy of Neptune?"

    "Such arrogance," Margoret growled, wrapping her arms around herself. "Have you no shame?"

    Stella dismissed their objections with a casual wave of her hand. "You''re fortunate we''re even still talking. I was half-tempted to act, and your decision to send Clive away says a lot."

    Simon intervened, his voice commanding. "Enough." He sliced his hand through the air and pivoted back toward the Mercury trio. "I will offer my father''s shield to Mercury, if they win," he declared. His gaze shifted to Piper, who attempted to muster a smile, but he swiftly averted his eyes. "Forged during the time of Old Night, and Old Men. It possesses a unique mechanism¡ªfully retractable."

    Zephyr turned to Piper, then to Stella. "Is this truly necessary?" he inquired once more, a plea in his tone, but Stella had her hands raised in finality.

    "Duel, money, a share from the raid, and Simon and Clive get their duel," she stated as she addressed the other Neptune members. "It''s time for us to go, as well as the rest of you."

    Logan rose from his chair, draping his trident over his back. Clive moved to stand behind Stella as she conversed with the others.

    "Zephyr, and all of you, used to be honorable," Stella began, placing a hand over her heart. "I''ve heard the rumors of how things have deteriorated within these walls, Zephyr. People are suffering, and your willingness to accept anyone with a sob story only deepens the problems."

    Zephyr remained uncharacteristically silent, prompting Stella to continue.

    "Have you ever considered that the academy implemented the rosters and admissions process for a reason?" Stella''s voice grew impassioned. "This rigorous selection process separates the champions from the undesirables. But what are you doing? Allowing the emperor''s domain to be overrun by undesirables and scum."

    "Lowlifes and scum!" spat Zephyr, pointing a finger at her.

    "Should''ve expected no less from a high lady of Neptune," Piper snarked. Stella could only offer her a look of utter disgust.

    "Zephyr, you bear the true blood of Mercury, of the core world, and yet you fill your house with these wretches," Stella shook her head, her eyes closing briefly. "Perhaps that''s why we have despicable men like Clive sullying the halls of what''s supposed to be an esteemed institution."

    A heavy silence enveloped the room. The prestige was undeniably misplaced, but the man had a point.

    Stella seemed about to speak again, but the room''s occupants could only gaze at her in wordless contemplation. "Why do I even bother?" she muttered, and with a flick of her cloak, she exited the room. The Neptune group followed suit, and Simon lingered for a moment before finally departing.

    Zephyr and the others remained in contemplative silence for a moment, their thoughts lingering in the heavy air of the room. The echoes of their heated discussion still resonated, the remnants of a turbulent negotiation that held the fate of two houses in its grip. But now, as they delved into the intricate political machinations of the meeting, a sense of dread settled over them, like a dark cloud casting shadows on their uncertain future.

    Meanwhile, beyond the walls of their house, the members of Neptune gathered to dissect what they had learned and to strategize for the months ahead. The impending duel with a notorious member loomed like a specter, an ominous foreboding of potential doom. The stakes were high, and the cost was honor itself. The arrival of new recruits added yet another layer of complexity to the already intricate power dynamics. None among their peers, the initiates of the year, could fathom what lay ahead. The death of innocence was a cruel awakening, a harsh reality in the cutthroat game of houses, and they knew they had to be hungry to survive.

    For within the vast galaxy, there were champions aboard this vessel, their destinies woven into the rich tapestry of legends and tales. This was the story of Edward the II, and at its heart stood Henryk.

    Loyal friend, valiant warrior, and bearer of a great lion''s heart, Henryk was a man of many facets. But there were those who would describe him as a villain, a mutant, a cold-blooded killer. A human man, yes, but within his hands lay the power to shape the destiny of Mars and its people. This was the legend of Henryk of Mars, known as the Martian Eviscerator, or perhaps, ''The Druid of Mars.''

 Chapter 3 - Hick and King

    The Deacon system stretched its sprawling expanse across the imperial sector, an anomaly amidst the colossal factory cities, feudal dominions, and vast worlds that cradled the grace of the Empire. While the Empire projected might and power through most of its dominions, the Deacon system was unique in its mission.

    Here, one found worlds that evoked the memories of ancient Earth, untouched by the looming specter of bustling metropolises that choked the skies with darkness and smog. These planets were paradises of pristine beauty and remarkable technological advancements, known as Cyber Worlds, a testament to the empire''s grandeur.

    In an era when Earth''s vision of future had taken flight among the stars, Argo II was a prime example of this breathtaking beauty. Its vast expanse of fertile land might deceive one into thinking it an agricultural or feudal world, but it harbored a grand city on its sprawling continent. Even from the vantage point of space, the city''s towering skyscrapers and centuries-old protective wall stood as majestic monuments, a sight to behold.

    The first month of the year brought with it the approach of a special ship through the cosmos, a massive freighter adorned with the royal insignia of the empire. But instead of carrying royalty or the empire''s military elite, this vessel bore the sons and daughters of the empire¡ªyoung men and women between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one. Most of them were pure humans, untouched by the changes wrought by space travel and genetic modifications, but some bore the stigma of being undesirables among the empire''s ranks.

    The ship was as immense as a military behemoth, its docking bay vast enough to accommodate the mechs of these young men and women, alongside smaller craft. All were scions of the empire and its countless systems.

    One young man found himself huddled in the tight quarters of his cabin, reminiscent of the ancient Earth trams that used to crisscross continents. He had not brought many possessions, his belongings lay scattered around him, and his back reclined against the cushioned seat. His forehead rested against the thick plasteel glass, and he gazed upon the deep green world beyond with striking blue eyes.

    Taller than the average, he possessed a thick mane of brown hair and piercing light blue eyes. He couldn''t tear his gaze away from the unfolding cosmos before him, so enraptured was he by the magnificent sight.

    Beside him, a bulging rucksack remained zipped, containing all he possessed. He wore the utilitarian uniform assigned to him when the notice arrived in his holomail, and while he bore it with a sense of quiet pride, he couldn''t help but wonder how his people back in his home colony would feel. To know that their dreams and hopes rested upon his shoulders, while his peers back home had cast them aside with indifference.

    The occupants of the vessel hailed from different backgrounds, and their attire reflected their origins. Those of stable and mid-births donned their plain, everyday clothing for the long voyage. In stark contrast, those of higher birth paraded around in the rich vestments reminiscent of Old Earth nobility. They draped themselves in long, uniform dresses, elegant captain cloaks, or the most opulent veils procurable within the Emperor''s Imperium.

    The boy, however, found his thoughts drifting momentarily as he looked down at himself. He shared the simple uniform with those of lower births, and it made him ponder what the folks back in his colony would think about this.

    The creaking sound of his cabin door being pushed open snapped him back to the present. He sat upon his couch, which doubled as a bed, and shifted his attention to the intruder. His eyes roved over the newcomer who had taken a step into the room, appearing to be around his age or perhaps a year older. With jet-black hair and piercing emerald eyes, the stranger wore the same uniform they were all assigned. However, his attire appeared slightly more rugged and worn compared to the boy''s nearly immaculate outfit. Each crease in his uniform was neatly pressed, fresh from washing and drying, while the interloper''s had a scent that vaguely hinted at oil and machinery, like the grinding gears of the space shuttle itself.

    The interloper, who had just entered, ran his fingers through his hair to wipe away some of the faint oil residue, then turned his gaze toward the seated boy. "Hello," he greeted, his voice carrying an intriguing calm and composure that belied his youthful age.

    The interloper offered a warm smile and extended an oil-dappled hand toward the boy. "My name is Edward, but people call me Ed or Eddie," he introduced himself. "And what about you?"

    The boy, his blue eyes flicking between the proffered hand and Edward''s intense emerald gaze, maintained a guarded expression. "What''s it to you?" he retorted, his voice dripping with defensiveness.

    Edward paused, lowering his oil-stained hand with a sigh. He brushed back his tuft of red, ginger hair and let out a chuckle. "Nothing, friend," he responded.

    "I ain''t your friend," the boy countered, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. "What''s your deal?"

    Edward looked out the window for a moment, as if lost in thought, then turned his attention back to the boy. "No deal," he replied. "I just wanted to know your name."

    "Well, you ain''t gonna get it," the boy snapped, his defenses still firmly in place.

    Edward''s emerald eyes stayed fixed on the breathtaking view beyond the window pane. "Good view," he remarked.

    The boy, a touch of apathy in his shoulders, struggled to wrench his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight. "Nothing much," he mumbled.

    "Nothing much," Edward echoed, disbelief lacing his voice. He approached the window, drawing an odd, stern look from the boy, and pressed his hand against the glass, leaving a visible handprint. "You''re gonna tell me, friend, that you''ve seen something better."

    The boy remained silent, clutching his rucksack tightly, but not yet daring to reach for it. A wide smirk graced Edward''s face as he took a seat opposite the boy, keeping his distance from the bag.

    Still sporting his wide grin, Edward pushed on. "Where are you from, friend?"

    "I ain''t your friend," the boy retorted swiftly, but the gaze of the interloper bore down on him. He let out a groan and reluctantly muttered, "Rideen."

    "Rideen," the stranger repeated, tasting the word as it rolled off his tongue. "Rideen, I''ve never heard of such a planet. Is it..."

    "It''s a frontier, a new planet," the boy explained. "Discovered about five to ten standard years ago. It''s not much, but we''re making our way."

    Edward nodded thoughtfully. "Frontiersman," he chuckled to himself.

    "What''s so funny?" the boy asked.

    "Nothing," Edward replied. "Was your colony the one that sent you here for military certification?"

    The boy stayed silent, his eyes locked onto the stranger as he tried to gauge his intent. Edward continued. "Many parents and organizations send their children to the academy. It''s quite a big deal if you can produce a true soldier of the empire, but a real hero? That''s something else."

    The boy shrugged his shoulders. "It''s not a bad group to be a part of, I suppose."

    "I guess not," Edward agreed, leaning into his seat. His hands danced in the air as his mind flitted back to the looming planet. "So, you''re here to pilot a warcasket."

    The boy nodded.

    "Not much of a talker, are you?" Edward remarked.

    The boy scoffed. "I talk when I need to, Ed."

    "I still don''t know your name," Edward pointed out. "So, are you going to be coy, or can I actually call you something?"

    The boy scoffed again. "Call me what you will."

    Edward clasped his hands together and let out a hearty clap. His eyes shone like twin beacons as he pointed at the boy. "So, I can just call you a country hick then?"

    The boy shot up, his muscles coiling like a sprung trap, his fingers curling into tight fists, ready to strike.

    "Easy," Edward said, edging back into his seat, anxiety now smearing his features as he remained hunched, ready to escape if needed. "I was just playing around, honest," he stammered, quick to make amends.

    The boy''s breaths came in heavy, agitated waves, his eyes wide and vigilant as he finally released his clenched fists. With an audible thud, he sank back into the couch, the tension draining from his body.

    "Henryk," the boy muttered, his voice firm. "I am no hick."

    "Henryk," Edward said, tasting the name on his tongue as he turned to face the boy. "That''s quite unusual. I didn''t expect to find someone with a name originating from Europe."

    "Europa?" Henryk responded, his words punctuated with a lack of formality. "I don''t know any waterfolk from Europa," he retorted.

    "Europe," Edward corrected, saying the word more deliberately and firmly to emphasize the difference.

    Edward shrugged. "You don''t encounter many folks like that, especially not those born in the frontier. Most names these days are new-age, but Henryk...what''s your family name?"

    "You don''t¡ª"

    Edward raised his hands, understanding. "I know," he replied. "It''s none of my business, but I''m just the curious sort. I''ve been cooped up in the cargo bay since the start of this journey, and maybe I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit."

    Henryk retorted, "Well, you could''ve found a different place to stretch your legs, friend," his arms wrapped around himself. But then a look of surprise crossed his face. "Wait, you''ve been in the cargo bay?"

    Edward''s eyes widened momentarily before he regained his composure. "Yeah," he responded quickly.

    "I didn''t know people could stay there," Henryk commented. "This is the worst one. No bathroom, no kitchen. I''ve just been sleeping on the sofa. I would''ve preferred the cargo."

    "You would''ve preferred the cargo?" Edward asked in disbelief. "This setup might not be great, but it''s better than sleeping on the steel floor, hearing all the machines."

    Henryk sighed. "Even this, everything we''re going through now...it was the cheapest we could find, and we still had to dip into the colony''s treasury to afford it."

    Edward watched as Henryk''s gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees. But then he looked up, and a spark of pride filled his eyes.

    Edward shrugged. "Your colony must believe in you a great deal."

    It was the first time he saw Henryk smile. It was a bold, confident grin that lit up his face as he wrapped his arms around himself. "I am Henryk. I bear the dreams of my people on my shoulders. I won''t fail, and I''ll bring glory to my family."

    Ed smirked at Henryk''s declaration. "That''s interesting, but that''s quite the heavy burden."

    Henryk paused for a moment, his smile wavering briefly. "We all have our burdens," he began to explain. "I choose to bring honor to my family and make my home a better place. Like you said, becoming soldiers of the empire or even heroes would bring prosperity to my world. If it means my mother and sister can be happy, I''ll do whatever it takes."

    The smile, that charming smirk, made Edward smile in response as well. It was a moment filled with a certain strangeness, a connection neither could fully grasp at that moment. But in the future, Henryk would come to understand the significance of this meeting and the kinship that arose from it. He was unaware of Edward''s past or the trials that awaited them down the road. Yet, the shared weight of heavy burdens, the desire to fulfill dreams, to improve their world and protect their loved ones, created a bond between them.

    "I can understand that," Edward replied, scratching the back of his head. He observed Henryk''s gaze, fixated on the planet outside the window. Rising from his seat, Ed approached to check on him.

    "You okay?" he asked, offering a false chuckle.

    Henryk did not turn away from the window; his eyes remained locked on something beyond the glass. Ed leaned in closer, curiosity piqued.

    "You''ve never seen a cluster belt before?" Ed inquired with a shrug. He leaned against the window. But Henryk''s focus went deeper within the belt, beads of sweat forming on his face.

    Henryk stepped away from the window, shaking as he pointed a trembling finger at the glass. "There''s someone within the cluster ring," he declared.

    "What?" Ed responded with alarm.

    Now fully alert, Ed scanned the space outside but saw nothing unusual. A cluster ring typically consisted of large debris or machinery in orbit around a planet. He could spot the remains of deactivated mechs and the spent training rounds from the great mechs. However, he couldn''t see any sign of a person out there.

    "What are you talking about?"

    Henryk''s expression twisted into a scornful frown. "I know what I saw," he snapped and rose from his seat. He flung his heavy rucksack over his shoulders and unceremoniously headed for the door. "I''m going out there," he declared.

    Ed watched Henryk''s determined departure and the echoing of his heavy footsteps in the corridor. He glanced back at the empty seat, his gaze returning to the vast expanse of space outside. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he decided to follow Henryk''s lead. He moved to the cabin door and stepped outside.

    "Why are you following me?" snapped Henryk, his steps purposeful as he walked ahead.

    Ed only chuckled. "I want to see what you''re going to do," he questioned playfully.

    Neither Ed nor Henryk had ventured through the upper levels of the ship, home to the middle class and high space nobility. They remained oblivious to the luxuries, fine fabric of beds, gourmet treats, and delectable cuisine enjoyed by those fortunate passengers. Ed had even less experience, having confined himself to the cargo hold for most of the journey, subsisting on stashed morsels of bread and cheese.

    Exploration of the ship was limited for Henryk. Early attempts had earned him reprimands from the stewards and guards, and he was all too aware of the perils of agitating the ship''s nobility. Reluctantly, his blood boiling, he retreated to his room, determined not to yield to the privileged class, not after all his colony had sacrificed to send him here.

    The boys walked on bare metal and steel, surrounded by the cacophony of orders being shouted. They soon found themselves approaching the ship''s kitchen. It seemed ironic that the finest cuisine was prepared here while they crammed boys and girls without the means to afford even a crumb of it.

    Amidst bustling stewardesses carrying plates of pastries, goblets of drinks, and various other luxuries, they walked past the dorms and rooms where their fellow passengers resided, some improvising their sacks as makeshift pillows.

    "You want one?" Ed asked, holding out a donut for Henryk.

    Henryk hesitated but ultimately gave in to the rumble in his stomach. He glanced around to ensure no one was watching and quickly devoured the donut. As they continued on, he managed to mumble a "Thank you."

    "Really?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "I thought ''thank you'' wasn''t in your vocabulary."

    Henryk scoffed and continued to follow Ed through the vast vessel. The air thickened with the scent of oil, and the sounds of machinery and tools filled the space. Henryk and Ed came to a stop in front of a large door.

    "Is this it?" Henryk asked.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Ed nodded, but just as Henryk reached for the door, Ed raised his hand. "What now?" Henryk inquired.

    "You need special privileges to access this area," Ed explained.

    "What kind of privileges?" Henryk scoffed. "Weren''t you planning on staying here?"

    Ed rolled his shoulders and dismissed Henryk''s concerns. "Over here, this is the real entrance."

    Henryk observed Ed as he led the way to the side of the hallway. Though they wore the same uniform, Ed''s attire appeared more weathered and stained than Henryk''s, who had only a few scattered marks.

    Edward knelt and began prying a panel from the wall. It came free with a grating of loose screws and slid aside.

    "Here," Henryk said simply.

    Ed nodded. "This is how I''ve been navigating the vessel. You''d be amazed how few people actually check for others within these vast ships."

    The realization struck Henryk. "You''re a stowaway," he exclaimed.

    Ed paused and rubbed the back of his head, waving his hand dismissively. "Well, don''t get me wrong. I have my entrance papers to attend the academy, but I don''t have the funds to travel to the planet."

    Ed shrugged it off, though his features remained tense. He was hidden away, and Henryk hadn''t noticed. A heavy sigh escaped Henryk. "You''re planning to... snitch?" he finished the sentence.

    Ed nodded.

    Henryk sighed. "You''re already a student, and we''re at the end of our journey. There''s no point in doing something malicious."

    Edward laughed at that. "What are you laughing at?" Henryk asked.

    "Nothing," Ed replied with a dismissive wave. "It''s just that there are many who wouldn''t care. They''d see me at the back of the vessel, sleeping among the rats with hardly any food. They''d still report me to the authorities without hearing my side of the story."

    "Well, I''m not like others..." Henryk muttered.

    Edward smirked. "I see that now." He knelt and began to crawl into the dark expanse of the air ducts. Henryk sighed but followed him inside. Just before they left, he replaced the panel over the opening, letting the screws fall into place.

    "What''s your plan?" Edward asked. As Henryk turned to respond, he saw Ed on all fours, disappearing deeper into the ship.

    Henryk''s eyes struggled to adjust to the dim space. Even when he narrowed his vision, he could only discern the outline of Ed. He watched as Edward moved through the cramped air ducts with an uncanny agility and ease, leaving Henryk in awe.

    Henryk sighed, his origins rooted in the frontier. He had ventured through the wilderness countless times with little more than his wits or traversed the plains of his colony. However, what made this situation unsettling was the pervasive absence of light. Here, there was nothing but the void of space, a realm bereft of artificial or natural illumination. No sun bathed the mountains near his colony, no starlight twinkled in the sky, only darkness enveloped this space.

    Henryk raised his eyes to Edward. "Planning?" he echoed.

    Edward''s voice resonated in the tunnel''s dark abyss. "Can you understand the Emperor''s language, or do you just repeat words you fancy, you hick?" he said.

    "You bastard!" Henryk snapped, and his retort was swallowed by Edward''s echoing laughter.

    They continued to crawl in silence for a solid minute until Ed stopped. "Hold on a second," he declared.

    Henryk kept moving, and then he felt something strange. His hand reached toward the ceiling, but instead of feeling metal, it met with open space. The scent in the air had shifted from oil to tobacco.

    "You can stand if you want," Ed suggested, and within those words, Henryk heard the striking of a lighter.

    Ed leaned over and snapped his wrist to ignite the lighter. The sudden glow illuminated their surroundings, and Henryk realized Ed had been living here all along.

    Henryk''s gaze explored the cramped confines of the chamber they found themselves in. To call it a room was an overstatement. There was barely enough space to stand, and Henryk and Ed crouched low due to the low ceiling. However, it was the contents of the chamber that truly intrigued Henryk.

    A sleeping bag was nestled against the wall. Henryk noticed the cigarette butts and rolled tobacco scattered around it. Empty cans formed a perimeter around another sleeping bag on the floor. Two open rucksacks revealed their contents: one brimming with Ed''s clothes and the other holding memorabilia and electronics.

    A game system sat near Ed''s pillow, surrounded by a couple of gallons of water.

    Henryk was astonished. "How long have you been here?" he inquired.

    "Since they picked up the rich kids from the mid-worlds," Ed replied. "A friend managed to get my ''warcasket'' into one of the hangars at the academy."

    "Nearly a week?" Henryk uttered as he glanced around the chamber once more. He paused, then inquired, "How have you managed to stay hidden here? Doesn''t maintenance or the ship''s crew check these vents?"

    Ed shrugged. "There are vents all over the ship. They loop around, but there are a few like this one they just don''t use," he said, gesturing toward the narrower section of the tunnel. "I figured this vent system would be used if the door between the hangar and the main ship were damaged, and the engineers needed to cut through here."

    Henryk shrugged his shoulders, a casual grin dancing across his face. "Nice find," he chuckled, and for a moment, Ed caught a glimpse of Henryk smirking and chuckling. "Sure, it''d suck to be found here. Think they''d boot you from the academy or something?"

    Ed shrugged in response. "Doesn''t matter because we''re already here," he replied. "You still need to get to the hangar, right?"

    Henryk nodded, and Ed waved him on as he flicked his lighter, casting a warm, orange glow around their surroundings.

    However, before he proceeded, Henryk halted. Ed noticed this and turned around, crouching. "What''s the holdup, countryman?" he asked with a smirk, but Henryk remained still.

    "Why are you helping me, Edward?" Henryk inquired.

    A pause hung in the air, and Edward simply shrugged and smiled. "I find it interesting, and I want to see what happens."

    Henryk stared at him, taking a step back in astonishment. "That''s why you''re following me outside?" he questioned.

    Ed raised both hands. "Look, I''ve been cooped up in here for the last few days. Do you know, Henryk, what it''s like to go number two when everyone''s asleep on this vessel?"

    "Sounds rather peaceful," Henryk replied with a smirk.

    Ed scoffed. "You have no idea. All I''ve got in here are chips and sodas. I should''ve listened to Lin and brought actual food and more water. You don''t know what it''s like being constipated in this tight room, doing nothing except playing video games and watching videos on the console. Then, you have to wait until everyone''s asleep to escape and use the bathroom."

    Ed huffed, his expression softening. "Honestly, maybe I just want to talk to another human being," he confessed, and Henryk''s smile began to fade as Ed turned to face him. "I''ve been stuck here for nearly a week, sulking like a damn rat within this crappy vessel. Maybe I wanted to talk to someone."

    "Is that why you went bonkers about that view earlier?" Henryk asked.

    Edward nodded, causing Henryk to sigh. "I''m just a country boy from some backwater world, and I understand that," Henryk said. "There''s nothing like it. You know, there''s nothing like being among the stars."

    "Well, that''s why you''re here," Ed said. "We''re going to be trained to serve the Emperor in his army. Trust me, countryman. You''ll see a whole lot of stars if that''s what you desire..."

    Ed chuckled as he saw a smirk gradually appear on Henryk''s features. "Still, what did you see, Henryk?" Ed asked.

    Henryk''s eyes widened for a moment, his gaze briefly averting. The subtle movement might have gone unnoticed by others, but not by Edward, who focused intently on Henryk.

    "You won''t believe me," Henryk replied.

    "Try me," Edward challenged.

    Henryk let out a sigh. "There''s a person out there within the cluster ring." Ed''s eyes narrowed in surprise and shock.

    "How do you know?" Edward inquired. "I was stuck to that window, and I couldn''t see a damn thing out there."

    Henryk began to explain but hesitated, shaking his head. "Listen, I''m not asking for your help. You''ve already done a lot. I can make my way to the hangar on my own."

    Ed stared for a moment, then threw his hands down. "Whatever, I''ve been cooped up for too long." He and the light vanished into the tunnel. As Henryk''s eyes roamed around the room, he noticed something while Ed continued to speak. "Let''s go find this girl. You have a warcasket here or something?"

    Henryk nodded. "I''ve got old reliable waiting in the hangars," he said. "Aren''t you worried they''ll send you packing if they catch us?"

    Ed waved it off with a snicker. "If they find us, they''ll probably boot me all the way back to the midworld I boarded from. I''ve got all my papers, and my mech is at my house."

    Ed and Henryk returned to the vents. "You already have a house waiting for you?" Henryk asked.

    Ed nodded with a proud smirk. "The best house out of all the others," he replied.

    Henryk''s lips curved into a smile. "You gonna use the piss jugs as room decorations, or..."

    "Okay, hick, shut up!" Ed''s voice echoed, but Henryk''s own voice reverberated even louder through the vent system.

    It took a moment for Henryk to regain his composure. "You done yet?" Ed inquired.

    "In a minute," Henryk replied as he wiped away faint tears from his eyes. Ed, realizing the futility of getting angry, let out a chuckle.

    "Whatever, hick, you''re all right," Ed said into the void.

    "Well, Eddie, I''m honored," Henryk replied mockingly. They descended in silence for a solid minute before Henryk''s voice filled Ed''s ears.

    "What was that?" Ed asked.

    "What house?" Henryk questioned.

    Henryk trailed behind Edward, his view limited to Ed''s rear and the beacon of light he held in his right hand as they navigated the tunnel. But it was Ed''s eyes that were now aglow with surprise.

    Ed coughed into his fist. "Doesn''t matter," he spoke with a smirk. "It''s gonna be a real shock."

    "I bet," Henryk played along. And before they knew it, they reached the vent entrance leading to the hangar.

    "Be quiet," Ed commanded. "We''re getting closer and closer to the hangar."

    Henryk fell silent, holding his breath as Ed turned to face the vent. The other side now resonated with noises far more volatile than the tranquil quiet they''d grown accustomed to in Ed''s hidden domain.

    Taking a deep breath, Ed carefully removed the vent''s loose screws, allowing a burst of light to flood their once-dark enclosure. "Stay quiet," Ed whispered as he gently set the plating aside, and both boys emerged from the vents.

    The hangar bay loomed before them. Henryk heard Ed muttering quiet curses as he wrestled with reattaching the vent plating. But Henryk''s attention was drawn to their surroundings. They were inside the vast hangar.

    The vessel was already larger than most other spacecraft, but due to the academy''s prestige, they had managed to secure a massive vessel to accommodate their student body and their mechs. Henryk could see the academy''s specialized vehicles and spaceships, but what truly seized his attention were the mechs¡ªthose colossal, humanoid machines known as warcaskets.

    These machines, developed centuries ago during the first war against the aliens, served various purposes across the empire. Some for heavy lifting, others for personal exploration, and many for the emperor''s army. To pilot one, an individual had to attend a sanctioned imperial academy for years. That''s why they were all here.

    Of course, not all students had the same motivations. Some aimed to become warriors, mercenaries, or technical experts. Henryk marveled at the rows of mechs, some suspended from the ceiling, others secured to the floor with locks.

    "This is insane," Henryk started to rise, but Ed seized him by the cuff of his uniform and pulled him back down.

    "What are you doing?" Ed hissed with quiet anger.

    But Henryk was no longer paying attention to him. His eyes were locked onto the machines, the warcaskets. They came in all shapes and sizes, displaying various armaments, metals, and designs. Henryk could identify the new X032 variant with its sleek utilitarian look, but he also spotted ancient models that seemed to hail from decades, even centuries, past.

    Amidst the hangar, Henryk''s gaze wandered across the old, weathered platforms that bore the scars of time. The rusted metal hinted at machinery that had been retired, either through recall or neglect. Yet, there were those ancient structures that wore their rust and decay like a badge of honor. It was a vivid testament to the ongoing conflict between the past and the future.

    Turning toward Ed, Henryk couldn''t help but smile. "This is insane," he said, his excitement palpable. "I''ve never seen so many mechs before. Sure, I''ve seen them on TV and the internet, but nothing in real life."

    Ed let out a weary sigh, his own gaze directed at the sprawling array of mechs. However, his attention soon shifted to the engineers working diligently around the hangar. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the docking bay''s plating was wide open, offering a clear view not just of the planet''s surface but the void of space beyond.

    "That''s not allowed," Ed murmured to himself, casting a wary look around the expansive hangar. Though there were people present, it seemed oddly vacant. Several technicians bustled about, attending to various components, but they all appeared to be fixated on something else.

    Ed''s eyes widened as he spotted it. The gravitational locks that held the vessel in place allowed them to gaze out into space and observe the docking procedures and events unfolding in the cosmos. Most of the engineers were doing just that.

    Cloaked in the overalls bearing no allegiance to any of the academy''s houses, they cheered and jeered as a celestial battle raged before them. Missiles, lasers, and gunfire crisscrossed the cosmic canvas as two mechs clashed.

    "What the hell?" Edward muttered.

    Henryk extended his gaze, and it became clear that they were witnessing a duel¡ªa fierce skirmish amongst the stars. Sounds of exhilaration filled the air as the engineers pointed and hollered in support. "Are they trying to kill each other?" Henryk asked, bewildered. Ed, however, had an answer.

    "The Academy allows duels between the different houses," he explained.

    Henryk''s eyes widened in shock. "Why on Earth would they do that?"

    Ed shook his head, rising from his crouch. "We don''t have time for this. Remember you said you saw something out there. Don''t you still want to get it?"

    Henryk sighed and nodded. They began to walk, and after a while, he couldn''t help but voice his concern. "Should we be worried?"

    Ed paused, his gaze shifting between the ongoing duel and the jubilant engineers. "I don''t think so," he said, sounding unsure. "But we should be careful. I doubt we''d get caught up in their duel, but as long as we go around and head straight to the cluster field, we should be fine."

    Henryk''s head nodded in agreement with Ed''s words, and they continued their journey through the rows of mech suits. They stood there, aligned in orderly chains or locked into place, towering like mechanical sentinels. Both Henryk and Ed scanned the rows of armored giants until a triumphant grin stretched across Henryk''s face.

    "There''s my old reliable," he announced, pointing with pride.

    Ed turned his attention to the large mech, its size akin to a house, and more human-like in appearance compared to other mechs he had encountered. Like Henryk, this relic of a machine bore the rough, rugged look of wear and tear. The plating was sparse, hardly ideal for combat, and it bore the scars of a hodgepodge of repairs. One pauldron was missing and seemingly replaced with makeshift bolts, while one of its boots was more akin to a frog''s splayed foot. The other, however, was a standard-issue mechanical foot.

    "How old is this mech?" Ed inquired.

    Henryk couldn''t suppress a chuckle. "Old reliable," he repeated, savoring the name on his lips. "I''ve had it since I was a kid. We found it in the ruins of our colony."

    Ed continued to examine the armor and slowly raised his fingers to inspect the armaments. He couldn''t help but be drawn to the helmet perched on the mech''s back. The realization struck him, and he directed a question toward Henryk.

    "Where did you get this helmet?"

    Henryk''s response was casual. "We bought it from a trader," he said, his focus fixed on the screen. Unbeknownst to Henryk, Ed''s fingers were tightly clenched, his gaze focused on the helmet. "Got it for a decent price¡ªjust a thousand imperial credits."

    "A thousand credits¡­" Ed mumbled in disbelief, his voice barely audible. His eyes remained fixed on the helmet as he raised a trembling hand toward it. "That''s Martian quality, and you used petty change to buy it."

    "Hey!" Henryk snapped, turning to face Ed. He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. "For your information, that ''petty change'' was a considerable sum in my colony. I don''t know where you''re from or what high horse you''re riding, but don''t you dare belittle my colony''s hard-earned money."

    Ed fell silent, his gaze still fixed on the helmet. After a moment, he nodded. "I apologize," he said softly.

    Henryk hesitated, then returned his focus to the screen, his teeth clenched. He muttered, "I don''t know where you get off calling it ''petty change.'' Sleeping in the vents because everything''s so expensive. Don''t you dare dismiss my colony''s hard work as insignificant."

    "Alright," Ed conceded, raising both hands in surrender. The tension in the air was palpable, and there was no trace of humor or jest. He was genuinely sorry. Ed heaved a sigh of relief as Henryk didn''t pursue the argument further. Of all people, he should understand what it meant to have nothing¡ªno money, no home, not even control over one''s own life.

    As they continued to inspect the mech, it appeared to lack laser or munition-based weapons, shields, or backup armaments. Edward couldn''t help but wonder if Henryk was exaggerating his claims about joining the empire''s army. But then, his eyes widened as he saw it.

    With a hand, Ed raised his arm as Henryk operated the console next to them. The rhythmic tapping of keys echoed as the massive mech gracefully descended onto one knee, its main pilot cockpit slowly creaking open.

    Edward was on the verge of sharing his discovery, what he had observed on the mech''s back. His lips parted, ready to voice the question, wondering if Henryk comprehended the significance of it. The boy, in all likelihood, wouldn''t recognize Martin pattern ornaments, but did he have any inkling about the ripper blade? The evisceration weapon concealed on the mech''s back¡ªa blade composed of unbreakable teeth that could unleash a roar at the wearer''s command. It was funny, really. He had delved into the lore of such weapons within his house years ago, but he had never imagined he would encounter one in person. Did the little country-bumpkin understand the historical weight of the blade looming behind him?

    Ed cast a sidelong glance toward Henryk, who had adopted a knowing smile. He ceased all activity at the console and turned his gaze toward Edward.

    "It''s all set," Henryk declared.

    Ed nodded in affirmation. "So, where are we headed?"

    Henryk''s eyes drifted out to the escalating battle in space. His attention was drawn to the crowd of engineers who ought to have been diligently tending to the ship but were instead transfixed by the aerial combat outside.

    "A space duel," Ed muttered to himself. Henryk''s gaze returned to him.

    "I''ve heard that the academy hosts duels between different houses and schools," Edward explained. "Winning one can elevate your reputation, earn money for your house, and potentially secure sponsorships."

    "Sponsorships?" Henryk repeated.

    Ed regarded him, a mix of astonishment and surprise on his face. "What do you know about the academy?"

    "I can''t say I know much," Henryk admitted.

    "Well, that''s essentially how you plunge headlong into it," Ed declared, raising his fist triumphantly. He made his way to the cockpit as he continued to explain, "There are diverse individuals in the academy, Henryk. Ordinary folks who excel in all respects, set to serve the empire with valor and distinction. But there''s another path."

    "Another path?" Henryk echoed, and Ed nodded.

    "Indeed, another path," Ed emphasized. "Aces, champions, and remarkable individuals who you may only meet once in a lifetime but will later grace the big screens. They rise to become planetary leaders at the far reaches of the empire, advisers and champions for their houses, or¡ª"

    "They forsake the emperor''s service to pledge allegiance to one of the noble houses," Ed completed the thought.

    "Exactly," Ed confirmed.

    Ed formed a surprised "O" with his mouth, a sputter escaping before a chuckle burst forth. "Really," he snarked, "I didn''t expect a country hick like you to piece that all together."

    "Shut up," Henryk snapped, though his tone softened. "But why would anyone want to serve one of the houses instead of our emperor?"

    Ed paused, pivoting to face Henryk, his expression one of disbelief. "You really don''t know much, do you?"

    Henryk was on the brink of sour retort, but Ed raised a hand, silencing him. "Serving the emperor is akin to regular military service. You''ll receive your rank, your pension, and fulfill your duty. It''s not a bad path, and you can either walk it wholly or sprinkle some mercenary service in there. But what you should strive for is working for one of the houses."

    "I just don''t¡­" Henryk began, but Ed''s tone grew harsher.

    Ed scoffed. "Listen, hick. You want honor, fame, and fortune. Serve one of the noble houses from the core worlds. Don''t settle for being a small-time fry or an average footsoldier. Sure, you''ll have the knowledge of piloting a mech, and that''s cool. But the emperor already boasts millions in his armies. The true champions are the sons and daughters handpicked by the house presidents at the academy."

    "What do you mean?" Henryk inquired.

    Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he redirected his gaze behind him. "You okay?" Edward asked, though Henryk seemed too distracted to acknowledge it. Vigorously shaking his head, he spun his body around and fixed his gaze on his cockpit.

    "I''m going out there now," Henryk declared.

    "Well, don''t let me stop you," Edward replied as he squeezed into the cramped space of Henryk''s cockpit. But Henryk eyed him strangely.

    "You''re still coming with me?" Henryk questioned.

    Ed stared at him for a moment once more. "I did mention I was going to do just that."

    Henryk sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, then," he conceded. "But you''d better not be dead weight. If we''re heading out to rescue that person, then I need to¡ª"

    Ed groaned. "You''re wasting time right now."

    Henryk snapped out of his daze as he saw Ed''s piercing gaze fixated on him. "Let''s go," he said, with a tone as if it were his own mech they were climbing into. The boys descended into the dark belly of the mech, the ancient machine humming a mechanical chorus around them. Now, the time for sitting was over; it was time to act.

 Chapter 4 - The Weight of Piper and Rescue from The Cluster Belt

    In the vastness of space, two solitary warcaskets confronted each other. Humanity had left Earth behind, journeying among the stars, while old Earth nations crumbled, giving rise to the Empire. And despite the cataclysmic battle with the xeno race that had nearly wiped them out centuries ago, one thing endured: the ever-persistent drums of war and battle.

    In the distant future, honor, tradition, and a warrior culture thrived. And now, two young adults grappled with this warrior culture. They floated in the cosmic abyss, moving like ships tossed in a maelstrom of black waves.

    Their warcaskets crackled with energy as they locked eyes with their adversary in the endless dark of space. But it wasn''t just the abyss that surrounded them. It was the radiant light of the sun, the scarred moon hanging in the sky, and the vast blue orb they called home.

    "Piper..." Her name resonated in her ears.

    Piper''s eyes widened. "Margoret," she responded through the intercom. She sat inside her mech, nestled in the lonesome void of space within her warcasket. The cockpit was snug, and her head reclined lazily on the cushioned pilot''s seat.

    Her mech, ''Delilah,'' was a "Striker X-900." This mechanical marvel was a fusion of the swift strider class and the sturdy heavy class. It stood at an average height of 8.5 meters, offering a balance of protection and mobility.

    The humanoid machine had splayed, mechanical feet resembling those of a predatory beast. Its armored plating, thicker than usual, housed intricate wires and cogs. The metal bore a militaristic desert paint scheme, adding to its imposing presence.

    Piper sat at the controls. Her thick bobbed hair was tied up in a tight ponytail secured at the back of her helmeted head. Her blue eyes surveyed the boundless expanse, fingers gripping the controls with the weight of the machine''s very soul.

    "When is this starting?" Piper inquired, irritation seeping into her voice.

    Margoret''s sigh echoed through her earpiece. "You know how Neptune wants it," Margoret chided, her disapproval clear even in Piper''s mind''s eye. "They want all the new students to see this."

    A silence settled in the cockpit, and Piper''s gaze drifted from the planet and the academy to her opponent. Logan, the Trident of Neptune.

    She scoffed at the sight, her eyes tracing over other elements. Her gaze lingered at the edge of the space elevator connecting to the massive space station of the academy. The assembled fleet remained at the ready. But in the distance, the academy''s main vessel came into view.

    How much time had passed since her arrival? Piper pondered the changes and how quickly she''d come to understand the abnormality of this school. A place where one could aspire to become a champion of the empire, where dreams of wealth, fame, and nobility could manifest into reality.

    Yet, none of these rewards seemed to be within their grasp. For Piper, graduating without causing harm to others would be nothing short of a miracle. The same, however, couldn''t be said for her peers.

    "Piper," Margoret called her name softly, a gentle nudge to start a conversation.

    Piper sighed and shut her eyes, seeking a moment of respite. "Yes?"

    "How are you holding up?" Margoret asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

    Piper paused, her skepticism peeking through her response. "What do you think?"

    Margoret huffed. "Don''t get all snippy, Piper," she chided. Piper could practically hear the exasperated sigh escaping Margoret''s lips. "Who does all your cooking and cleans up the dorm for you?"

    Piper hesitated, knowing Margoret had her in a corner. "You do," she admitted, her voice resigned, as though confessing a childhood transgression.

    Margoret likely wore a triumphant smirk on her face. "You''re darn right I do," she retorted. "So don''t get all worked up. I''m asking as your friend, Piper. How are you really holding up?"

    There was a moment of silence, and Piper gazed out into the vastness of space. Finally, she spoke. "I don''t really know," she admitted.

    Margoret paused briefly before responding, "Really? So, you''re feeling something, but you can''t put your finger on it?"

    "I said I don''t know!" Piper''s reply was curt, her irritation palpable. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her grip on the console loosening. But her eyes were drawn back to the cockpit, where she saw it.

    The vessel was closing in rapidly, a brilliant streak of light cutting through the void as it hurtled toward the planet. And Logan was there in the distance, bathed in the vessel''s radiant glow.

    His ''Warcasket'' was a pure strider variant, not a hybrid like hers but known for its aerial agility and enhanced mobility compared to the standard mechs. Yet, Logan''s mech had a trade-off, excelling in agility but lacking the protection of other models. Piper refocused on the console; she couldn''t afford to lose her concentration.

    But lose it she did. And now she knew why.

    "This duel," she suddenly spoke, but her words trailed off before she could continue. Her fingers tightened around the controls, and a chilling calmness washed over her. Her apprehension shifted into a fleeting moment of anticipation.

    "You''re nervous," Margoret observed, a sense of satisfaction lacing her words. Piper had closed her eyes, nodding slowly in agreement before she responded.

    "Yes¡­of course I am. He''s Logan of Neptune."

    "Yes, and who is our Mercurian Ace?" Margoret countered. It was a question that momentarily wavered Piper''s doubts.

    She sighed, then replied, "Me." But she quickly returned to a fa?ade of indifference. "I get what you''re trying to do, but it''s not going to be of much real help..."

    Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes tracing the planetary edges. "You are our ace," Margoret''s voice whispered softly but reassuringly.

    Piper was on the verge of tears. "There''s so much weight on this battle," she confessed. "If I fail..."

    "Give it your all," Margoret retorted firmly. Piper''s eyes snapped wide, and she felt the surging power of the mech within her. "He may be the ''Spear of Neptune,'' but you are our ''Mercurian Ace.'' You''ve faced greater enemies than some rich pretty boy from the core worlds. You''ve got this, Piper. Unlike others, you''ve worked so much harder."

    A solitary tear streaked down Piper''s face, and she instinctively reached to wipe it away, only to have her fingers clink against the glass of her helmet. She winced audibly, prompting a hearty chuckle from Margoret.

    Margoret laughed heartily. "Did you just bump into your own helmet?" she asked with a hearty laugh.

    "Shut up!" Piper snapped back. But before long, laughter began to bubble from her lips, and they shared a hearty laugh for several minutes. "Thank you, Margoret," Piper eventually said, and there was a moment of silence on the other end of the radio.

    "For what?" Margoret inquired.

    "For calming me down," Piper replied.

    Margoret remained silent for a moment before taking a deep breath. "You''re my friend, and I''ll be by your side every step of the way. This is just like the dozens of duels you''ve won before. Don''t break your winning streak yet."

    Piper''s laughter brought confidence as she tightened her grip on the controls, and that trademarked smirk of hers returned. "You''re right¡­this isn''t any different than before," she affirmed.

    The sounds of the other mech became audible just as their ship made its way to the crescent of the planet, giving them a view of the spectators. Zephyr and Piper''s main rockets left a blue trail of fire in the cosmos. Even from afar, Piper could see the swarm of people gathered at the windows, their faces flickering with anticipation.

    "Are you ready for the duel, Piper?" Logan''s voice crackled through her second radio.

    Piper took a moment of silence, then sighed before activating the intercom. "I am," she replied, determination etched in her voice.

    She could hear the sound of Logan shuffling within his seat in the other warcasket. It ceased a moment later. She was preparing for the duel, but then, unexpectedly, Logan''s voice broke the silence.

    "I don''t understand why you fight for him," he said, his words echoing within her mech. Piper''s eyes widened in shock but narrowed with irritation. "Shut your mouth," she snapped, her tone stern. "Don''t speak as if you know Zephyr."

    Logan''s scoff reverberated through the radio, followed by a hearty chuckle that boomed within her cockpit. Anger surged within Piper, but a small seed of doubt wormed its way into her confidence.

    "I know enough," Logan retorted. "I know that Zephyr is a slimy little weasel trying to play this game as neutrally as possible. Funny, to think that Stella was ever actually considering allying with Mercury."

    Piper gasped in surprise, and her reaction only seemed to amuse Logan further. She could feel his smirking presence through the radio.

    "You all really messed it up for yourselves, but..." He paused. "Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly inquired.

    Piper turned her mech toward Logan''s, only now realizing he had already armed himself. His mech was equipped with an oversized shield that looked almost too big for his machine''s arm, and in the other, he wielded a massive trident.

    "Sure," Piper responded with dripping sarcasm, raising her own mech''s arms. Her robotic hands firmly gripped her beam rifle, a large laser rifle aimed at Logan. She made sure the weapon was set to a safe beam level to avoid any accidents; House Mercury was already on thin ice with Neptune.

    "Why is Zephyr protecting that guy?" Logan asked, a disturbing calmness in his voice. Piper hesitated, wincing and shaking her head, and she found it difficult to respond.

    Logan''s tone grew increasingly relaxed, and it was clear he was trying to rattle her. Piper turned to the side, realizing this duel had to start soon. But Logan continued to speak.

    "I''ve heard what Clive can do, and I understand the advantages of having a guy like that in your house. House Mercury is untouchable right now, with a mission streaker like him. But, Piper, does it not bother you how he openly disobeyed your house and your own authority? Think about it, wasn''t it you who filed Simon''s form to join us?"

    Piper winced and quickly swiveled toward her microphone. "How did you know that?" she snapped, and Logan''s laughter reverberated in her ears. Her hand slammed down on the console in frustration.

    "Stella and Zephyr talked before the duel," he replied, his words dripping with smugness. "You''re lucky we have our own rivals to deal with, but I doubt they''ll be thrilled with House Mercury expanding their already substantial roster."

    "What do you mean?" Piper inquired, her confusion apparent in her voice.

    However, she heard Logan now chuckling. The sound echoed through the silence, a slow, mocking crescendo, like a shadow creeping across a room. Piper''s heart quickened as she envisioned him leaning in his seat, his breath hitching near the microphone.

    "You really think the other houses didn''t notice what happened?" Logan''s voice was a dagger concealed in honeyed words. It slithered into Piper''s ears, hissing with a venomous truth. "You beat a Neptune, not some frontier nobody, but a true-blue core-worlder. Sure, Simon is one of ours, but I doubt Stella would care. The fact is, you attacked her out of the blue, brazen as sin, in broad daylight. Other houses don''t take kindly to those who think they''re invincible."

    Logan''s words crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in an onslaught of ridicule and scorn. Piper''s fingers clenched with a vice-like grip on the controls. Her eyes locked onto the console before her, her suit responding to her focused determination.

    "Are you here to talk or duel?" Her voice was a whip-crack, a promise, a threat. Her resolve was a blade of vengeance sharpened by his taunts.

    Logan''s laughter receded, giving way to a seriousness that unsettled the turbulent waters between them. "Fine," he spat, the tension in his voice palpable. He gestured frantically within his cockpit, the exasperation clear in his body language. "Remember the rules, Mercurian Ace."

    Piper felt the ember of a smug smile ignite upon her face. The title was a banner she would unfurl in the looming battlefield.

    "Don''t cross the line, Piper. Professors won''t intervene. You spill blood, I''ll draw yours."

    "Mutual ground, then," Piper replied, her voice like a knife honed to a razor''s edge. The intercom hummed, a portal to their impending showdown.

    "Are you both ready?" Stella''s voice sliced through the tension like a surgeon''s scalpel.

    "I''m ready, Prez," Logan answered, his voice unwavering.

    "Me as well," Piper responded, her voice a mirror to Logan''s determination.

    "Then pledge your oaths, guardians of your empire''s realm."

    Piper inhaled deeply, her hands releasing their vise grip on the controls. Her right hand covered her heart, fingers trembling slightly.

    "Within this duel, I test myself," Piper began, her words slipping from her lips with an ease that spoke of repetition, an oath etched into her very soul.

    Logan followed suit, a deep breath anchoring his words. "Within this duel, I risk my life in service to the truth."

    Piper''s oath gathered momentum. Her words tumbled from her lips with a hurried rhythm, her heart pounding like a drum. "This truth will unveil who is greater, who is better, who is stronger. It will reveal who stands in the grace of the emperor, in whom his favor resides."

    Silence loomed, and Piper felt a bead of sweat trickle down her nose, each drop carrying the weight of anticipation. Logan was biding his time, weaving the threads of his oath. Then, he paused, parting his lips, and his voice erupted like a tempest.

    "For the emperor!" His voice boomed with fervor, a war cry that pierced the veil between them.

    Piper knew better than to succumb to the battlefield''s siren song. Her mech glided backward through the inky cosmos, following the unwritten rules of the duel etched into every pilot''s heart. Pylons loomed, their electric maws waiting to snap shut on any misstep, zapping them out of the contest. She couldn''t ignore the looming threat of the Cluster Belt either; one too close encounter, and she''d be ensnared in its razor-sharp embrace.

    But Logan wasn''t one to be left in the dust. His mech streaked through the void, a relentless storm in pursuit of her. Piper gripped her oversized pulse rifle, aligning it for a shot at Logan''s approaching machine.

    She squeezed the trigger, and her weapon belched purple beams of light. The stakes were high¡ªthe contest was a duel of wits and cunning, where the first to destroy the other''s pole affixed to their mech''s head would claim victory. Alternatively, a lifeless pilot would declare a grim triumph.

    Logan danced between her shots, each evasion a calculated move. It was like he was plugged into an adrenaline matrix, evading with an almost preternatural precision. His nimble stryder outpaced her machine, making her task near impossible.

    "Shit," she cursed, watching Logan''s mech close in on her position. But just as he was about to make his move, something bizarre occurred. A burst of movement, so swift and unpredictable that Piper had never witnessed the like.

    "Piper, dodge!" Margoret''s voice sliced through the chaos, piercing Piper''s adrenaline haze. Instinctively, she pitched her mech downward, evading the imminent strike.

    The trident''s blade danced against her mech''s pauldron, leaving superficial damage in its wake. Orange paint and fragments of metal dispersed into the yawning abyss.

    "What the hell was that?" Piper snapped, her voice crackling with urgency.

    "We don''t know," Margoret stammered, her voice laced with uncertainty.

    "Logan upgraded his mech?" Piper''s question quivered in the void, a shout torn by the tempestuous conflict. Her focus turned back to the battle as she twisted her machine, narrowly evading another strike from Logan''s trident.

    "It appears so," Margoret analyzed, her voice laced with surprise. "Seems he added more thrusters to the stryder. I had no idea they could pack more boosters into it."

    "What do you mean?" Piper''s question was a crescendo, a desperate cry that reverberated through the chaos. Her beam rifle fired again, the searing energy lancing toward Logan, disintegrating his pauldron into molten slag.

    "Yes!" Piper''s victory cry echoed through the cockpit.

    "Good job, Piper!" Margoret''s jubilant response filled her ears. Piper''s thoughts wandered briefly, painting a vivid picture of House Mercury and their reactions. Some were huddled in their dorms, others congregated in their lounge, and many watched the duel on holo screens.

    Piper was the Mercurian Comet, bearing the weight of her house''s expectations. Victory was her solemn offering to Mercury, and she intended to keep their streak burning brightly.

    "His specs!" Piper''s voice crackled with urgency.

    "Specs?" Margoret repeated, her tone laced with confusion. "You knew what to expect, Piper."

    "Christ, Margoret!" Piper''s frustration flared. "Those thrusters, they weren''t in the specs. This isn''t right," she snapped back into the intercom.

    Logan was closing in, growing dangerously fast and too close for comfort. Each slash from his trident was a breath away from her mech, leaving shallow gashes etched in the metal. Margoret chimed in, her voice analytical.

    "That''s no standard strider booster," Margoret mused, followed by a series of whispers and hushed speculations. "Can''t be a Mark II or Mark III; those boosters can turn pilots into jam from the g-force alone."

    Margoret''s analysis droned on as Piper groaned in exasperation. With a wild scream, Piper piloted her mech into a daring maneuver, spotting an opening.

    Logan''s mech erupted once more, perhaps the third or fourth burst by this point. "He''s gotta be out after this," Piper yelled.

    Margoret leaned into the intercom, her voice a chilly whisper. "How can you be sure?"

    "Fuel''s running thin; he can''t go past five bursts with the spare booster pack," Piper retorted. "He''ll have to consolidate these quick bursts and monitor his fuel gauge."

    Margoret chuckled with a hint of triumph. "Logan''s underestimated you, Piper. Show him the price of underestimating us."

    Piper grinned and roared back, "Okay!"

    Both mechs closed in, and the lights of the cosmos revealed the colossal battle to onlookers aboard the ship. Their eyes were riveted to the pulsating beams carving through the void, two mechs battling for the glory and honor of their respective houses.

    Logan lunged, his trident slashing through the expanse. They were closer now than ever, and Piper''s rockets had ceased. Logan initially thought it a blunder, but Piper had other plans. She parried his attack.

    Spectators watched in awe as her mech''s massive hand closed around her pulse rifle. She wielded the weapon with power and precision, bringing it down with a tremendous force. The trident''s blunt end met the pulse rifle''s hilt.

    For a brief, disorienting moment, both mechs were stunned. But Piper had a plan, a fraction of a second quicker than the "Spear of Neptune."

    "Eat this!" Piper bellowed in her cockpit, squeezing the trigger.

    A brilliant stream of high-powered light erupted from her rifle. Logan acted on instinct, raising his shield to point-blank range. Yet, even the master-crafted shield, forged on another world, proved insufficient. The pulse pierced it, molten bits flying as the once invincible spear was challenged by a girl from a different planet. The pulse carved into the metal, leaving behind a unique metallic residue on the shield''s surface. Through that small gap in the chaos, Piper glimpsed the truth: Logan''s mech had been hit.

    "Yes!" Piper''s triumphant scream reverberated through her cockpit as she leaped within her seat.

    She had crippled his mech, the pulse beam hitting its mark with unerring accuracy. The beam had penetrated the shield, piercing deep into the shoulder''s joints and mechanical innards. Every breath in the audience caught in their throats as Logan''s thrusters roared to life, propelling him away, the shield falling from his mech''s grasp while electricity danced in loose, erratic patterns from the wound.

    Piper toggled her intercom. "Logan," she purred with mischief in her voice.

    She heard a heavy sigh on the other end, followed by Logan''s groaning laughter. "You think I''d surrender?" She questioned, and his laughter only deepened.

    "Surrender, never!" He snapped back, his voice dripping with defiance. Piper shifted her gaze to Logan''s mech, observing as he maneuvered his trident through the void. Now, it was his turn to chuckle. "Stella was obsessed with that damn shield, but she never realized how useless it truly was." His mech moved away from the discarded shield, its utilitarian avian head looming over Piper''s own machine. She tightened her grip on the controls.

    "Do you honestly believe a midworlder can defeat a core world champion?" Logan''s voice resounded through the intercom. "Don''t make me laugh!" His words were a battle cry as his engines roared to life, flames trailing behind him, and they hurtled back into combat.

    Logan wielded his trident with grace, each swing painting arcs and dashes across her mech''s frame as she struggled to dodge and evade. "What the hell is happening? He''s moving faster!"

    Margoret''s voice offered an explanation. "It was the shield. Without it, he''s lighter and faster. He dropped the shield." Understanding crept into her voice, but she pushed that thought away. This was not the time. "He hasn''t gotten faster, Piper; he''s been this quick all along. You just need to¡ª"

    "He''s too fast!" Piper screamed in return, her panic overtaking her.

    With no shield and Logan''s trident rapidly bypassing her mech''s base energy defenses, Piper was in disarray. She had never faced an opponent of this caliber. His speed was staggering, and they danced through the skies.

    A cascade of beams and the whirl of the trident cut through the cosmic void. It was a battle watched by the inhabitants of a new year under the radiant stars. Two warriors locked in combat, a battle coming to its climactic close.

    "Shit!" Piper''s scream cut through the chaotic clash, her intent clear ¨C but Logan was a master of evasion. He deftly sidestepped a blow aimed directly at his vulnerable pylon, maneuvering with a grace that sent metallic groans reverberating through the battlefield.

    But Logan wasn''t satisfied with mere evasion. His mech pitched, flexing its metal sinews in an almost inhuman contortion. Metal grated against metal, a discordant symphony of strain. Piper felt a shiver down her spine, for Logan was far from finished.

    With deadly precision, Logan thrust his trident beneath Piper''s mech, a serpent poised to strike. His weapon poised for a calculated strike aimed directly at the right wrist of Piper''s machine.

    In those perilous seconds, Piper''s instincts took over. She strained her mech to the side, a desperate attempt to evade the impending disaster, but time betrayed her. With the taste of bitter inevitability, she sacrificed her pulse rifle in a desperate bid for victory.

    The grating clamor of metal on metal was the first harbinger of the disaster. Piper gazed upon her now mutilated weapon. The trident had cleaved through it with an unrelenting fury, severing it in two. Electric sparks and lights danced around the severed metal like malevolent fireflies.

    Yet, the revelation was more than visual. Her wide eyes darted to her mech''s right hand. The gruesome reality of the situation struck her before she even raised her hand to inspect it. Her right fingers, from pinky to index, were gone ¨C their absence replaced by jagged, chipped remnants that exposed her mech''s inner workings.

    Margaret''s piercing scream snapped Piper from her stunned reverie. Piper''s left hand darted behind her, where she glimpsed the gleaming terror of Logan''s trident hurtling toward her. The cosmos illuminated their frenzied duel, a shower of sparks painting their grim ballet.

    The knife she wielded was more survival tool than weapon, often regarded as a relic of a bygone era. Most mech pilots considered it a useless relic or discarded it, favoring more conventional armaments for close combat.

    Their weapons clashed in a cacophony of sparks, a symphony of steel, and fury. The trident met her knife in a clash of wills, and the once-pristine blade bore scars from the relentless onslaught.

    Logan laughed, a cruel mirth. "You''ve done well for someone not of true birth."

    Piper''s retort carried a sting of defiance. "Oh really? Pay attention."

    Piper responded with a venomous laugh. "You lost an arm and your shield to a girl younger than you. Imagine how your house will treat you, even after this win, knowing you gave me an inch."

    Logan''s silence was a brewing tempest. The anger simmered within him, a force that threatened to erupt at any moment. "You''re done," he muttered, his words belying the impending storm.

    The two mechs were locked in a struggle, the battle hanging in a precarious balance. Piper made a split-second decision, wrapping her free arm around his pylon, ready to make the final push.

    As her metal fingers clamped down on his pylon, sparks cascaded overhead from Logan''s trident cleaving through her own pylon. Victory was within her reach. She needed to be faster, to be more determined, and to claim the triumph she desired.

    But as she strained against the pylon, the friction and resistance, she felt the power of her mech draining away. The battle was approaching its climax, the outcome on a razor''s edge.

    Her limbs felt lifeless, heavy as stone. Panic gripped her as she glanced around, taking in the eerie scene. The mechs stood frozen in time, suspended in some mysterious stasis. Piper''s heart pounded in her chest as she wondered if the nearby cluster ring or the academy''s pylons that anchored them had somehow short-circuited their systems. It was as if time itself had come to a standstill.

    Then a voice, not Margaret''s, but one she recognized, broke the otherworldly silence. "You did good, Piper."

    Zephyr''s voice resonated, words carrying a solemn weight. "We are all so proud of how hard you fought, and I know that Neptune failed within their humiliation."

    Piper couldn''t fathom the meaning behind his words. Confusion laced her voice as she asked, "What are you talking about?"

    Zephyr sighed, and Piper could hear the mechanical release of Logan''s grasp on her mech. He retracted his trident to his mech''s back as he floated away, leaving Piper free. "Logan''s lights are still on, but mine are..."

    Margaret''s voice chimed in, heavy with disappointment. "She hasn''t lost before. She doesn''t..."

    Piper felt a lump constricting her throat, threatening to choke her. It was a moment of shock, followed by a deep, nauseating turmoil in her stomach. She forced back the bile, refusing to disgrace herself within the confines of her spacesuit. Tears welled, hovering in her helmet.

    The unbeaten Mercurian Ace had met her match, and a weight of defeat bore down on her. "I lost," she admitted, the words coming easier than she would have ever imagined.

    She had stood undefeated in countless duels, but now, facing Logan of Neptune, she had been bested. Despair consumed her as she grappled with the reality of her loss.

    "Piper," Zephyr''s voice offered consolation, seeking to ease her pain. "You''ve done excellently. There''s no shame in losing. You''ve vanquished champions before, and Logan simply outmatched you. There''s no dishonor..."

    "Honor!" Piper interrupted with frustration, her gaze turning to her camera, knowing Zephyr was watching. "I lost!" she yelled.

    Tears streaked down her cheeks, her eyes heavy with regret. Her hands pressed against her helmet''s glass, as if to hide from the bitter truth.

    Logan''s voice crackled through the intercom, and Piper couldn''t hide her anger. "What do you want, Logan?" she snapped, her voice tinged with fury.

    Logan''s condescending tone grated on her nerves. He spoke with an air of arrogant confidence, his words piercing like barbed arrows. "Don''t be ashamed," he said. "You''ve done very well, especially for a midworlder, and might I add... a woman."

    An eerie silence hung heavily in the air, a stifling shroud that settled over Piper, its weight almost suffocating. Her face contorted in a mixture of anguish and disgust, a visceral reaction to the virulent words that had been unleashed.

    "You... you''re a real..." Piper began, her voice trailing off, unable to find the words to encapsulate her feelings.

    Margoret, her voice laced with a stern disapproval, intervened, urging Piper to refrain from further dialogue. "Don''t even try and speak to him, Piper," she warned, her words a palpable reflection of the depths of their shared frustration.

    For a brief moment, the vast expanse of space revealed nothing but the haunting emptiness between the stars. Piper''s mechanical eyes, along with Logan''s unrelenting gaze, scanned the cosmic canvas, searching for a glimmer of hope or threat among the sea of debris.

    Then, in the distance, a solitary warcasket emerged from the cosmic void, rocketing through the field of debris. It was a lone marvel, an anomaly in the unforgiving expanse of the universe.

    Piper''s breath caught in her throat, and she hesitated. "Is that..." Her voice trailed off, disbelief coloring her words.

    Logan, his piercing blue eyes hidden beneath a determined brow, monitored the celestial spectacle. "Is he one of your guys?" he inquired, his voice laden with suspicion.

    Piper''s reaction was swift, her indignation palpable. "What!" she snapped, her words laced with incredulity. "You really think that we''d do something so underhanded like that?"

    Logan''s response was shrouded in cynicism. "Well, maybe... you know Zephyr isn''t the most trustworthy sort," he mused aloud, his tone laced with rumors and doubt. "I''ve heard many things about you, Piper. And I know something about bullheaded loyalty. The thing that I hate the most is that you embody this loyalty to your house, and that''s fine... admirable, really. However, you are not of Mercury. Your parents are not from that world but are rather serfs. You will forever be viewed as untrustworthy and disloyal."

    Piper''s anger flared, and she challenged his divisive rhetoric. "Don''t use that planetary dissonance mumbo-jumbo racial hierarchy crap on me!" she yelled, her words resolute. "I may come from a midworld, but I am a part of House Mercury. I am their ace, and I know that when I graduate, I will serve my house with pride."

    Logan, unyielding in his prejudice, continued his tirade. "Pride," he scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension. "You''re a woman. You''re better at cleaning pots and pans, and this just proves it."

    Piper refused to let his sexist views go unchallenged. "You''re really so proud of being a sexist?" she retorted, her frustration boiling over.

    "I''m proud of being of superior stock," Logan dismissed her with a wave. "Do you not understand the hierarchy here? You challenged me, a worthy, proud son of Neptune. My father is heir to the first line that wields the all-powerful ARC cores. The blood of great kings and queens, of great warriors and a great line await me. Who are you?"

    Logan''s words struck a nerve, and Piper winced at the unspoken truths he wielded as weapons.

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    "I know you midworlders usually enjoy democracy and many amenities, better than industroworlds and even those damn dreaded feudal worlds," Logan continued, condescendingly. "However, you don''t understand truly what is going to happen to you. Right now, you have lost to me... you know that deep down, the way you will look at yourself now. A pitiful failure."

    The weight of his words bore down on her, and doubt began to erode her self-assurance. The thought that maybe he was right, that she was indeed a failure, seeped into her core.

    But she couldn''t afford to falter. Her sense of purpose demanded her resilience. She redirected her attention from their petty dispute, realizing that they had been squabbling while more significant matters loomed.

    Piper sighed, not yet comprehending the true gravity of the situation. The profound implications would become clear in time, but for now, action was her only recourse.

    Piper understood the urgency of the situation and the need for action. She took command, her voice firm and resolute. "Number one, I am going to try and connect to the comms of the mech to figure out what''s happening. Number two, you are going to then radio the presidents. And... finally, number 3. You are going to be silent."

    Logan''s response was a gruff snarl, irritation dripping from his voice as he addressed Stella, the leader of their House. "Stella, there is an issue here..."

    While Logan continued with his conversation, Piper busied herself with the controls, flipping switches and adjusting dials to establish a connection. It took her a couple of minutes, but eventually, she succeeded.

    "Hello?" Piper spoke into the comm, her voice trembling faintly, her throat still bearing the rawness of recent tears.

    The response she received was far from comforting. A moment of silence, then an eerie burst of static and unintelligible whispers seeping through. The unusual hush that had fallen over the duel''s aftermath seemed to stretch into eternity. It was akin to being the last one on a sports field after a game, an eerie solitude lingering.

    "Hello!"

    The sudden, urgent voice jolted Piper in her seat. Startled, she instinctively recoiled, clutching her head as she cringed at the piercing volume.

    "Who is this!" she hissed back, her voice a harsh whisper.

    After a pause, the voice on the other end replied, this time with more humility. "Sorry."

    The accent and dialect in the voice piqued Piper''s interest. It carried an older, more archaic quality, reminiscent of a bygone era and hardier people. Her anthropologist father would have appreciated the nuances, but in the moment, Piper needed answers.

    "My name is Henryk F. Fitzgerald, junior pilot certification number E739," he introduced himself, and then there was a hushed conversation between him and someone named Edward, who questioned his choice to reveal his full identity.

    Henryk persisted, inquiring about Piper''s intentions. "What''s your deal?" he demanded.

    Henryk and Edward found themselves floating in the vast expanse of space, the emptiness around them stretching into infinity. Their conversation held an unusual blend of camaraderie and tension.

    "You really have a knack for talking to women," Ed remarked, his tone lighthearted.

    Henryk chuckled, his words filled with a hint of nostalgia. "Some lady that was, we call them banshees from my neck of the woods."

    "Some neck of the woods," Ed replied with a chuckle. "You speak like some damn hillbilly, like one of those old movies."

    Henryk waved off the comment, brushing it aside. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Did you put on the suit yet?"

    Ed confirmed with a nod, adjusting his glove. "A bit dirtier and an older pattern that I''m not really a fan of. But, it will get the job done."

    "It better," Henryk retorted.

    As they continued their journey through the vast, unforgiving space, turbulence struck their warcasket, sending Henryk scrambling to regain control, while Ed held onto a nearby railing to steady himself.

    "Damn it!" Henryk cursed. "It''s a damn minefield out here."

    Ed questioned the turbulence, and as Henryk inquired whether he had ever been on a cluster belt before, Ed hesitated momentarily. His almost-negative response was replaced by a nod.

    "What was that?" Henryk pressed, his eyes locked on Ed.

    "Huh?" Ed mumbled, fumbling for a response.

    Henryk''s gaze remained on Ed, and he probed further. "You were about to... I just don''t get why you got so strange. But you''ve always been strange."

    Ed could only stare, his unease showing. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, unable to find words to explain.

    Henryk continued, his words laced with a touch of sarcasm. "You have this weird manner to you, and I don''t know if you''re just strange or a mad individual."

    Ed smirked at that. "My father said that every man is at least a bit strange, or at least a bit mad to say the very least."

    "Really?" Henryk questioned, his tone tinged with skepticism. The words, delivered with eloquence, struck a chord that would resonate in their minds later.

    "It''s our strangeness that defines us, it''s what makes us act when the time is right," Ed continued. "It''s because we are special, and for the things we do that are deemed mad are truly acts of courage. For we, the swords of the empire, truly shoulder such a burden."

    The words hung in the cockpit, leaving both Henryk and Edward momentarily silent. "Your father, he sounds like a soldier," Henryk remarked, his tone softened.

    Ed let out a chuckle, but his tone grew more solemn as he responded. "A soldier," he repeated incredulously, dismissing the idea. "My father was not a measly soldier on the battlefield; he stood far taller than that. He was a knight, Henryk, a true warrior who served our emperor with distinction. He lived for the past emperor, and he died for the new and true line of the throne."

    Henryk absorbed the weight of those words, the image of such a remarkable man as his father took shape. It felt like having a beacon of inspiration to guide one''s path, to strive to meet the unattainable standards set by a hero.

    For a fleeting moment, Henryk''s own memories resurfaced¡ªbrief, fragmented visions of violence and brilliance, tinged with psychic potential. A desolate world among the stars, the echo of his mother''s voice, and a blistering sight of a lone ''warcasket'' standing against an army, guarding their loved ones. His father, Nathaniel, a warcasket pilot, had given them not just freedom but redemption. He had wielded a mighty blade for his family and his people, passing the torch to his son.

    A surge of emotion overwhelmed him, and he confessed, "You speak like he''s..." but the words didn''t come, the sentiment swallowed by an unspoken understanding.

    Ed nodded, the smile fading, and he glanced at his wrist, tightening the glove around his arm. "My father was a knight. There''s a saying: you live by the sword, you die by it. That''s what happened to my father, and to his father before him. I know that fate will follow me as well."

    The silence grew heavy, and Henryk found himself staring into Ed''s eyes as he began to speak again. "We are the sons of dead fathers. My father was a great man, but that means his shadow looms even larger on me to live up to." He paused and turned the question toward Henryk. "Does your father''s shadow loom over you, Henryk?"

    The question hung in the air, casting its shadow. Henryk found himself at a loss for words, caught in an unfamiliar web spun by the evolving Ed. The earlier smile had vanished, and green emerald eyes bore into him with a half-smirk. It felt like a test, as if Ed were trying to gauge his response, and Henryk was unsure of the intentions behind it.

    His reaction was a sneer, a defense mechanism to push back the probing scrutiny. "What are you trying to get at?" he scoffed, pointing his hand at Ed.

    An enigmatic tension hung in the cockpit, and Henryk''s emotions became a swirling mix of annoyance, anger, and confusion. It was as though a mysterious game was unfolding before him, and he was an unwitting participant.

    For a moment, Henryk pondered whether their earlier exchange had somehow offended Ed. Then, to his surprise, Ed erupted into a mighty torrent of laughter, slapping his knee and extending both hands toward Henryk.

    "Look at your face!" Ed roared with laughter, reveling in the moment.

    Henryk''s earlier feelings of annoyance, confusion, and hesitation melted away. It was as though Edward had cast a spell, and Henryk couldn''t quite decipher it. Whatever Ed was trying to discern, it felt like an attempt to gauge the depths of Henryk''s soul. Like wolves sizing each other up, deciding whether to be foes or allies. And as Ed turned away, the scent of alliance hung in the air.

    The intercom crackled to life, a sputtering voice breaking through the tension. Henryk turned his attention toward it, his curiosity piqued.

    Yet, Ed''s features quickly returned to neutral, and he focused on the back of Henryk''s raven-black hair. "I''ve got my eye on the type of guy you are, Hen. You can''t forget the ones that came before, and seeing this disgust through your eyes tells me something about you. You can''t ever forget or forgive; regret is the purest of sins."

    "Piper?" Henryk called out her name, puzzled. "Like a pipe?"

    A moment of silence settled upon them. "A pipe..." Piper repeated, not in shock but with a hint of bafflement at the unexpected question.

    "Your name is a bit strange is all," Henryk explained. It was a casual observation, and he imagined the unknown boy in the other cockpit simply shrugging.

    "What the hell are you going on about!" Piper''s yell echoed through both cockpits. "Shut up!" came her retort, a bit quieter.

    "We''re not getting anywhere like this," Ed scoffed as he headed for the comms.

    "What are you doing?" Henryk questioned.

    "Signaling them to help us," Ed replied, pointing toward the two large humanoid mechs. "We''ve got to maneuver through that cluster belt. They''ve got rifles and melee weapons that could just as easily cleave through the debris and rock."

    Henryk sighed and dismissed the idea. "We don''t need a bunch of nobles and coreworlders," he said with a sigh. "I''ve been navigating debris since I was nine, in space and deadly conditions around my colony. Trust me, we''re in good hands."

    Ed rolled his eyes at Henryk''s confidence. "So, I''m meant to leave it in the hands of the expert?" he asked sarcastically.

    "Yep," Henryk replied simply. "Smooth sailing from this point onwards."

    Henryk flipped on the intercom. "Hello again."

    "Yes," Piper replied, her tone reflecting the enigmatic nature of their ongoing situation.

    "There''s someone within the cluster belt that I was able to detect."

    The words hung heavy in the air, casting a dark shadow over the cockpit. Henryk could feel the weight of the revelation pressing down on both Piper and Logan. The vast expanse of the cluster belt, a graveyard of technology and debris, stretched out before them, and they all shared the knowledge of the imminent danger.

    The eyes of the midworlder and the coreworlder, though marked by differences in noble lineage and common blood, held a common understanding of the peril that loomed around them. Humanity united them in the face of an ominous threat.

    The academy had witnessed countless duels, failed experiments, and abandoned remnants swallowed by the cluster belt''s tumultuous embrace over centuries. At its heart lay a unique machine, an enigmatic source of infinite electricity, akin to the pulsing heart of a mighty battleship. But this heart possessed a dangerous gravity, pulling all metallic objects into its relentless orbit like a ravenous storm.

    The danger lay in the sporadic pieces of debris orbiting this central power source. A mere touch from a warcasket or a space suit could spell doom, causing their systems to short out completely. This peril extended to both mechs and space suits, making the cluster belt a deadly labyrinth of potential destruction.

    Touching one of its metal surfaces would render an astronaut''s suit powerless, leaving them gasping for air with no hope of survival. Henryk glanced at the suit that Ed had finally donned, leaving only the helmet untouched.

    The antiquated suit held the echoes of Earth''s forgotten past. Unadorned by any heraldry or unique design, it was a relic of a bygone era. While Henryk may not have grasped its significance, Ed revered it as a precious artifact. He treated it with utmost care, savoring the feeling it invoked within him.

    Piper''s voice broke through the moment. "What are you planning on doing? I''ve already reported this to the academy''s rescue services, and..."

    "It won''t work," Henryk interjected, shaking his head with determination, teeth clicking in defiance.

    "What do you mean?" Another voice joined the conversation, more pronounced this time, and Henryk realized Piper had granted him access to their comms. The urgency in the voice was palpable. "There is someone within the cluster belt?"

    Logan''s voice dripped with concern, a depth that Piper had underestimated. From Henryk''s cockpit, Logan''s mech hovered above him, an uneasy presence in the confined space.

    "Yes," Henryk responded succinctly.

    Piper sighed, her throat parched by anxiety. Before she could utter another word, Logan preempted her.

    "That''s not going to be enough time," Henryk''s words sliced through the tension-laden silence. They hung in the air like a guillotine''s blade, and Piper''s throat went parched, leaving her speechless. But before she could gather her thoughts, Logan intervened.

    "Alright then," he declared, clapping his hands with such force that the echo reverberated through the mic. "We''re going to save them."

    "What!" Piper''s voice trembled with disbelief as she grabbed her mic. "Are you all out of your minds? Have you boys ever ventured inside a cluster belt before?"

    Silence lingered, and Henryk''s voice broke it with a terse affirmation. "Yes."

    Piper''s frustration manifested in a vein throbbing on her forehead. "You''re willing to throw your lives away like this?" She snapped, her accusatory gaze aimed at Henryk''s mech. "You just arrived from the vessel, you''re the new kid, right? How in the hell could you have seen her?"

    Henryk felt the pressure mounting, the need to concoct another lie, but this time, it was different. They were in the unforgiving depths of space, and spinning a yarn seemed impossible. How could his human eyes have perceived what he saw? The lie quivered on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out.

    Ed''s presence loomed behind him, and he watched Henryk intently. Piper pressed on, her questions relentless. "You can''t escape this, you know," she hissed. "How the hell did you see inside that cluster belt?"

    Henryk''s eyes widened, showing the whites, but before he could attempt another fabrication, Ed intervened, his voice calm and resolute. "Doesn''t matter," he uttered, his words curt and final. Ed''s tired sigh doused the flames of the heated conversation. "Are we going to waste time, or are we going to save a life?"

    Logan''s chuckle punctuated the standoff. "Alright, then," he conceded. "Come fly with us, and Neptune''s arms shall embrace you."

    Ed nodded in agreement, his face bearing a cryptic smile. "Indeed, you shall have Henryk the Hick and Edward the nobody." He playfully slapped Henryk''s shoulder.

    The trio''s laughter resounded through the depths of space, carried by the weight of uncertainty and the impending dangers. Henryk''s lips curled into a small, ironic smile, revealing the shadows that lurked behind their camaraderie. Logan chimed in, a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes.

    "Such titles," Logan jestingly prodded. "Fine, then. You, common lot, shall be deemed worthy enough to witness the ''Spear of Neptune'' amidst the stars."

    Piper couldn''t resist but join in the banter, her voice layered with dripping sarcasm. "Oh, we can hardly contain our excitement," she quipped. The room echoed with their laughter, a dissonant symphony amidst the void, while Logan grudgingly bore the annoyance of their mirth. The levity, however, felt like a temporary reprieve, as their journey into the cluster belt loomed, bearing the weight of unknown perils.

    The warcaskets set their course towards the cluster ring''s front. Henryk turned to Ed, curiosity etched on his face. "Why did you do that?" he inquired.

    Ed gazed at him with a quizzical expression. "Do what?"

    Henryk locked eyes with him, seeking an explanation. "You knew I didn''t want to answer the question, but you stepped in and changed the subject."

    Ed considered for a moment, causing Henryk to wonder if he was either insane or foolish. But then, Ed broke into laughter. "Oh, that," he dismissed with a wave. "Don''t sweat it, Hen. It was pretty obvious you didn''t want to answer, and that''s your prerogative."

    Edward paused, his gaze fixed on Henryk in the same manner he did during their earlier discussion about fathers. "We all have our secrets, Henryk," he mused, his voice shrouded in contemplation. "It seems unfair that you, the one who witnessed this missing person and actively seeks to reach her, must be the one to bear questioning."

    Henryk let out a weary sigh, his head bobbing in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Edward."

    A mischievous smirk crept over Edward''s lips. "What''s so funny?" Henryk inquired.

    Ed couldn''t help but chuckle, his hands tightening around his frame. "I don''t know," he shrugged, grinning. "Didn''t imagine that ''thank you'' was part of your vocabulary."

    Henryk smirked in return. "Well, you learn new things every day, I suppose." Both boys shared a lighthearted laugh, the tension of their situation momentarily forgotten. Henryk found himself unexpectedly enjoying this camaraderie. What began as a rocky encounter with Edward now seemed like a budding friendship.

    However, a sigh punctuated the moment as Henryk realized the gravity of their situation. Two teenagers, chasing after a missing person through the cosmos, risking their lives. The courage and resolve beneath Edward''s cheerful facade became clear.

    Their intercom buzzed as they drew nearer to their destination, the cluster ring looming ahead. It was not yet too perilous, but more challenges lay ahead. Logan''s voice resonated with tension, though he tried to mask it. "We''re getting closer now," he announced. "Everyone, draw your weapons. Except you, Piper." He waved his hand dismissively.

    Piper was already armed with her knife, while Logan maintained his trident. Her voice was laced with a snicker, mocking Logan''s unease. "You sound scared, Logan? I''m just a measly woman with a little knife, and I''m not shaking in my seat like you."

    Logan''s response was a thunderous "Shut up!" The animosity between them was palpable, extending beyond a mere academy duel. Henryk and Ed exchanged perplexed glances, a silent agreement that more information was needed to understand their history. While they had dueled, the depth of their malice hinted at personal strife.

    Henryk let out another sigh, focusing on his mech''s artificial limbs as if they were an extension of himself. All eyes were drawn to the imposing weapon in his mechanical hand.

    Piper''s eyes widened, and she leaned forward in her seat. "Henryk, is that¡­"

    But Logan provided the answer, his voice laden with the weight of history. "That''s a two-handed ripper weapon. Neptunian Pattern." His words echoed with the dark, ancient stories of times long past.

    Henryk''s eyes widened, his grip on the intercom tightening as he leaned in as close as possible. "You know the pattern, you know where this blade comes from?" he urgently asked.

    Logan nodded, all traces of humor vanished. This was a matter of grave import. "The blade must have been forged centuries ago," Logan began, pausing to carefully consider his words. "It''s of Neptunian Pattern, but it wasn''t crafted on Neptune."

    "What?" Henryk''s voice trembled with a mixture of shock and confusion. "So, you''re saying that it was..."

    "Examine the design of the weapon," Logan interjected, directing Henryk''s gaze toward the formidable blade. "I''ve studied at many schools prior to attending the academy, and I possess knowledge of ancient history. That weapon, or more accurately, its pattern, was originally created for a warrior who would later serve the blue planet¡ªmy planet. That was before the discovery of the world''s terraforming capabilities. The weapon you now wield in your hands is a testament to history."

    A sense of awe and reverence enveloped Henryk. He was momentarily rendered speechless as he gazed at the weapon. This centuries-old masterpiece, meticulously restored and refurbished, felt remarkably comfortable in his mech''s grip. Its long bronze handle featured ribbed black sections, ensuring a secure hold. The pommel, constructed from the same material, was complemented by a superficially unique inverted crossguard. In terms of size, the weapon fell into the category of a bastard to greatsword for a warcasket. Its teeth, adorned with black tips, could be set in slow rotation, while its protective shielding bore a deep crimson hue.

    After a brief pause, Logan inquired, "Do you comprehend the significance of what you hold?"

    Henryk took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding, "Yes, I do."

    Logan seemed poised to share more but decided to remain silent as they continued their journey through the cluster belt. Henryk''s mind buzzed with the weight of Logan''s revelation. While he was no stranger to the importance of such weapons, he had never known their true origin. Still, he knew he couldn''t afford to lose himself in introspection at this moment. The task at hand demanded his full attention.

    Several minutes passed as they navigated the increasingly turbulent ride.

    "How is everyone doing?" Piper''s voice pierced the silence.

    "Fine," Henryk promptly replied.

    "Fine as well," Logan added. He then queried, "So, what''s the plan?"

    "I''ve got one," declared Henryk, tilting his head as he glanced at Ed, who responded with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Me and Ed talked about it before we radioed, but there may be enough space to fit one person. Ed is going to breach and clear that ship, and then he''ll extract whoever is trapped in there."

    "That''s... a pretty decent plan," acknowledged Logan.

    "I agree," chimed in Piper. "I''m geared up in a spacesuit. I can assist Ed in navigating the wreckage and provide as much help as possible."

    "What about us?" queried Logan.

    Henryk sighed. "Whether we like it or not, we''re going to have to deal with the debris and whatever''s floating out there in space. Fortunately, we''ve avoided anything that could have fried our systems. Nevertheless, we''ll remain outside to address anything that might hinder or harm the main craft."

    Logan nodded in agreement. "Good, alright then."

    With those words, they plunged into the sea of space debris, each second bringing them deeper into the labyrinth of floating wreckage. What was once negotiable in the open cosmos became a claustrophobic nightmare. Navigating these tight confines was a challenge beyond measure.

    "I''ve got this," Henryk''s voice crackled through the intercom. The whirring of his ripper blade echoed in their ears as its long-dormant engines roared to life. Once a weapon designed to annihilate mankind''s greatest adversary, it was now a powerful tool for clearing rubble and debris.

    With bated breath, they watched as Henryk, wielding his ripper blade with both mech hands, sliced a massive boulder in half, sending the fragments spinning in different directions through the vacuum of space. Their progress continued, various members opting for the brute force of Henryk''s sword or the reach of Logan''s trident to forge a path through the wreckage.

    Piper let out an audible sigh, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion as she muted her intercom. Her hands clenched the controls as she gazed at her mechs'' mangled hand and her subpar blade, questioning why she was even here.

    "Found it," announced Henryk, after cleaving through the last substantial piece of debris. Beyond this final obstacle, they could see it¡ªthe eye of the storm.

    In this open space within the cluster belt, sporadic flashes of light illuminated the surroundings, revealing the crackling prongs of electricity that struck the ship''s hull. The discharge tore through the metal, sending fragments hurtling in all directions.

    "Is that it?" inquired Logan.

    Henryk hesitated, his eyes playing tricks for an instant. They momentarily appeared slightly brighter before he closed them. "Yes," he responded as he nodded. "We''ve wasted enough time. Let''s locate them."

    Ed nodded in agreement, and Piper''s mech came to a halt.

    "Be careful out there," cautioned Henryk. "This entire section won''t hold for much longer."

    "How long are we talking?" Edward inquired.

    "Think minutes," Henryk replied, emphasizing the urgency.

    Ed''s expression tightened, and he sighed as he heard the hiss of air and the click of his helmet connecting to his main suit.

    "Remember, I don''t have an actual jump suit. All I can do is get you really close," Henryk reminded him.

    Ed nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. As he entered the narrow confines of the airlock, he contemplated the looming challenge. Inside the mechs, these airlocks were modestly sized, primarily used for minor maintenance operations or emergency exits. In this case, it was the universal way for the pilot to disembark, but Henryk would remain inside his mech to defend against potential environmental hazards.

    Ed navigated through the labyrinthine interior of the mech until he reached the airlock. It was more of an emergency exit for an emergency exit, far harder to reach. As he opened the door and examined the tight space, he felt a wave of discomfort. There was barely enough room for a second, smaller person, and he couldn''t help but wish it were someone slim or, better yet, a girl. Anybody too large to fit would have to be left behind.

    With a sigh, Ed eased his glass helmet into the confined space, which required precise positioning for it to fit. There was only enough space for one, and he silently prayed that it would be sufficient.

    "You okay?" Henryk''s voice came through the intercom.

    "Never been a big fan of tight spaces," Ed admitted. He could hear the metallic clank of the door sealing shut. If all went as planned, when Piper was ready, Henryk would seal the door he had entered through and release the other, propelling Ed into the void and toward the ruined ship. If he failed, he''d be flung into the depths of space, lost forever.

    Ed heard Henryk manipulating keys and dials, presumably preparing the launch sequence. "You ever done anything like this before?" Henryk asked.

    "Are you asking if I''ve jumped out of a ship and used my own momentum to navigate space?" Ed''s voice dripped with sarcasm, eliciting a chuckle from himself. "You make me feel like one of those old-timey astronauts."

    Henryk joined in the laughter. "Well, astronauts back then had machines to propel them in one direction at least. Listen, all you need to do is kick off with your feet and angle yourself properly. You see those bars around you? Grab onto them. Don''t get sucked into the void; instead, push off with your toes and glide through the emptiness. Keep an eye out for anything to grab before you make the jump, and¡ª"

    "You speak as if you''ve done this before," Ed interrupted, sensing a hidden story.

    "Once," Henryk admitted, his voice heavy with a mixture of experience and regret. "I was with a mining crew on my colony for a while. It was just honest work, but things went sideways, and we had to space jump to another ship."

    Ed''s eyes widened. "Really? That sounds like quite the adventure."

    "Jumping with a lack of equipment is dangerous, but it''s very common amongst the frontier. If it helps, not a single soul that was with me when we did the jump died that day. Stay calm, and stay in control," Henryk advised, his voice tinged with the wisdom of experience.

    Ed''s breath hung heavy in the air. His fingers gripped the narrow bars within the cramped airlock so tightly that he could see the fabric covering his fingertips strain under the pressure. "You know, I''ve heard that Martians did something like this for their advanced squires, a moment of truth, a leap of faith."

    "Squires?" Henryk chuckled. "Aren''t squires the students of knights?"

    Ed nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "How does a hick like you know about knights and such?"

    Henryk let the slight insult slide and joined in Ed''s amusement. "My momma had old Earth storybooks. You''d be surprised by the treasures you can find in the garbage heaps of these core-worlders."

    Ed raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?" he asked.

    Henryk let out a deep sigh, reflecting on his mother''s lessons. "I know that, with ''planetary dissonance,'' humans feel an innate loyalty to their planets of origin. But my momma always taught me that we must never forget Earth because that is our one true home. Our bloodlines and lineages originate not from Neptune, Pluto, or even the frontier... but from old Earth. We all come from the same place."

    Ed was momentarily lost for words. He hadn''t expected this level of introspection from Henryk or his mother''s teachings. The depth of Henryk''s perspective on their shared origins was puzzling, yet intriguing.

    "All right, I''m ready!" Piper''s voice cut into their conversation, signaling the need to act. "What are you boys waiting for?" she shouted impatiently.

    Henryk snapped into action. "You heard the woman. Edward, are you ready?"

    Ed let out another sigh and closed his eyes for a brief moment, battling his claustrophobia. His ancestors had once gone to battle with great weapons and navigated the galaxy in an age of strife. Now, as the last of his lineage, he grappled with a fear of tight spaces. Despite his anxiety, he steeled himself for what lay ahead. "Ready!" he shouted with wide eyes.

    The door whisked open, and Ed sprung into action, clutching the bars with an iron grip. His legs bent awkwardly above his head as he braced for the leap into the vast emptiness of space. His breath quickened as he was thrust back into the vacuum, his body momentarily transformed from an eighteen-year-old to a frightened boy.

    A whirlwind of images and harsh memories enveloped him. He witnessed the death of a planet, saw the red world burn beneath his feet. His mother''s lifeless form floated in the expanse, her features grotesquely distorted, her eyes wide and bloated. Amid the chaos, he glimpsed the lone visage of a colossal ''warcasket'' in the distance. This war machine stood tall, eclipsing all others before or after its construction¡ªthe Arc of Mars, a testament to the last sons'' dreams of their birthright and the impending conflict.

    The boy saw a looming war on the horizon, a future where worlds would burn, and the lives of friends and foes alike would be lost. He didn''t know the specifics of what was to come, but he felt the weight of that uncertain future bearing down on him.

    Ed didn''t even realize that his hands had slipped, and he was hurled into the unrelenting expanse of space, limbs flailing without control. His helmet muffled a scream that echoed within it, but the panic in his movements was unmistakable.

    "Shut up!" Henryk''s voice came sharply, breaking through the chaos.

    But Ed couldn''t heed the command. His limbs fought the emptiness, as if he could swim or claw his way back to safety. "Piper!" he cried out, the name strangled by the suffocating void.

    The cold metal of the ship collided with Ed, wrenching him back and sending his eyes wide with terror. Desperation drove him to grasp at rods and bars, but they offered no salvation. Just as a wild scream threatened to burst from him, Piper appeared, her arms encircling him tightly, arresting their erratic trajectory.

    Silenced by the shock of his near escape, Ed clung to the bars, regaining his composure as the trio resumed their course. Gasping for air, Piper, Ed, and Henryk clung to life within their metal coffins, their breaths matching the rhythmic tremors of the vessel.

    Logan''s voice, agitated and exasperated, sliced through the intercom. "What the hell was that? Do you simple lowlifes have no knowledge of how to execute a space leap? You lot shouldn''t even be in this academy!"

    "Shut up, Logan!" Piper retorted with a sharpness in her tone, though Logan''s words were edged with resentment. He finally relented, shaking his head, and the tense silence settled between them.

    "Okay," Piper said, her voice quivering slightly. She gripped the bar before her with a white-knuckled grip, her other hand still heavy with the touch of Ed''s spacesuit. "Are you okay?"

    Ed''s pride remained unyielding, and he brushed her hand aside. "Thank you, but I''m fine," he replied, his pride masking the shiver that coursed through him.

    Piper wanted to say more, to offer reassurance or perhaps apologize, but time was slipping away, and they could ill afford further delays. They heard the ominous sound of metal grating against metal, their eyes drawn to the panels of shielding on the shuttle as they tore away and scattered into the abyss.

    "What is that?" Piper queried, her voice tinged with unease.

    "Gravity disturbances," Henryk explained, urgency etched in his tone. "It''s getting worse than I thought."

    Piper pressed for answers, "How long do we have?"

    Now alone in the vast expanse of space, Henryk''s eyes began to glow, a lighter shade overtaking them. "Five minutes," he replied, voice firm. "They are deeper within the vessel, and from what I can see, you''ll have to find a way in."

    Piper nodded, and Ed followed her lead. They navigated through the broken pipes and openings, Piper reaching the ruined airlock door and initiating the emergency protocols. In a matter of moments, they were inside, ready to confront the challenges that lay ahead.

    The intercom, driven to life by its automated logic, emitted a recurring feminine voice that resonated through the airlock, blaring, "Purification," in eerie repetition. Cyclones of artificial air spiraled within the confined space. Piper, her voice tinged with distrust, declared, "Don''t take off anything. Even though it''s claiming that this area is cleansed, don''t buy it. These damn machines, the whole shuttle''s falling apart, and it''s still going through its robotic rituals."

    As the grinding door swung open, revealing the unlit abyss of the ruined space shuttle, Piper flashed a knowing grin. "Told you," she quipped, her smirk cutting through the grim atmosphere.

    "Are you guys in?" Henryk''s voice pierced the tension, edged with urgency. "Logan and I are cutting through anything that gets too close to you, but you guys need to leave, like right now."

    "We''re in," Piper affirmed into the intercom, but her wary eyes darted in every direction. Three adjacent hallways branched out before them. "Do any of you have an idea where we should be heading, or some sort of beacon to follow?"

    Piper''s question hung in the air, echoing in silence, before Henryk''s voice once again infiltrated her consciousness. It was as if it came from the intercom, yet it felt strangely internal. Piper''s eyes shifted from a pale azure to a deep, oceanic blue as she leaned against the wall, her limbs feeling weak and her head heavy.

    "What...is this?" she gasped, her voice trembling. She could hear Henryk''s response, almost a whisper within her mind, guiding her. "Keep heading down that hallway, and there''s a door on the other side. Knock on it and identify yourselves as a rescue team. Be cautious, there''s someone inside who''s frightened and scared."

    Piper was about to reply, but the intercom abruptly cut off. The whole exchange had unfolded in mere seconds, leaving Piper bewildered, her senses returning as she shook off the daze. Her weariness from the duel had been compounded by this unexpected twist.

    Shoving aside the disorienting thoughts, Piper focused on the door and joined Ed in pounding on the grating. "Where are we going?" Ed questioned with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "How do you know where to go?"

    Piper, her frustration building, didn''t have time to offer an explanation. The urgency of their situation demanded immediate action. However, her silence only fueled Ed''s apprehension, which was justified considering the stark contrast between their knowledge and Henryk''s. But the floor beneath them was rapidly deteriorating, making any further questions seem irrelevant.

    "Piper..." Ed called out her name, his voice laced with unease, as he gestured down the hall.

    Within the vessel, electrical currents surged, creating a chaotic web of arcing energy. Prongs, gears, and wires were flung upward, revealing the endless expanse of space beneath their feet. Piper crashed her closed fist into the door with a resonant bang, her voice echoing through the vessel. "Rescue team!" she cried out, the urgency in her tone unmistakable.

    For an agonizing moment, the world hung in limbo, wrapped in the shroud of uncertainty. Then came the mechanical symphony of the door''s release, and the trio was met with the unmistakable glow of the academy''s modern yellow spacesuits. Piper''s initial surprise turned to shock as she recognized the emblem of her family, a lineage that held a unique distinction in the heart of the galaxy.

    As they stared, bewildered, at the figure before them, a student who had ventured into the unforgiving belt, the urgency of their situation was thrust back into the forefront. "We''ve gotta move!" Ed''s voice snapped them out of their reverie, his strong hands seizing the girls.

    With Ed''s guidance, they were propelled back the way they had come, the screeching cacophony of metal against metal echoing around them. The gravitational tug intensified, as if the very ship itself sought to reclaim them.

    But their futile struggles against the relentless pull eventually yielded to a frantic, weightless tumble. In a chaotic swirl, they slipped into the void, their voices a chorus of terrified cries. Each of them, disoriented and dispossessed, spiraled into the unforgiving reaches of space, spiraling in separate directions.

    Piper''s body spread-eagled as she sought to quell the wild spinning, defying the disorienting zero-gravity that played havoc with her senses. Unlike Ed and the newfound girl who continued to shriek in the unrelenting darkness, Piper''s lips remained sealed. Instead, she stared into the abyss, her gaze tracing the sparkling constellations.

    Each star a pinprick in the velvety canvas, a reminder of the unattainable dreams that had drawn her away from home and family. The desire to be a hero, a pioneer, part of an age where colonization and empires were born. Yet, ambition came at a cost, especially when you ventured too far into the unknown.

    In the dreams of individuals, they are the central characters, but Piper now pondered her role in the grand narrative. The girl who left behind the embrace of her family and the comforts of her home to chase the elusive dream. The universe had a way of sifting the strong from the weak, and she found herself paying the price in the unforgiving vastness of space. A place where survival depended on tenacity and the ability to endure the unknown.

    Piper''s thoughts shifted to Margoret, a dear friend who had entered her life in the most unexpected of ways. Her musings drifted to simpler and happier times. It was funny how clarity often came too late, just hours before one''s inevitable fate¡ªwhether it be collision with an object, fiery reentry into a planet''s atmosphere, or an agonizing drift through the endless expanse of the cosmos.

    Tears welled up and streamed down Piper''s cheeks, a single, involuntary sob escaping her. In this dire moment, she faced the stark reality of her life, the realization that she had built walls that kept friends at a distance. Save for Margoret, she had never allowed anyone to get close. Romantic connections were but a distant dream. Now, as she hurtled through space, alone and vulnerable, she couldn''t escape the bitterness of her choices.

    As her thoughts dipped into more painful memories, Piper recalled the haunting image of her family¡ªher sister''s tearful visage, her parents'' desperate pleas. She remembered clutching her bags with selfish determination as her family''s scornful glares pierced her heart. Her sister''s sobs echoed in her ears, and her parents knelt, begging her to stay. But she was driven by her dreams and her own selfish desires, and she couldn''t deny the ultimate price of her ambition.

    In the cold void of space, a sense of despair enveloped her, and the weight of her imminent demise pressed heavily on her heart.

    In the vast emptiness of space, Piper succumbed to the pull, her eyes sealing shut as she surrendered to the infinite unknown. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she prepared herself for the end. But the silence she craved was soon shattered by the persistent cacophony of shouting, echoing through her earpiece.

    "Shut up!" she bellowed into her microphone, her voice a desperate plea amidst the void. "Before I die, I''d gladly appreciate it if you two would just shut up and stop screaming into my ear!"

    A moment of silence hung heavy once more. But the peace was fleeting as they witnessed a distant figure hurtling their way, carving through the vacuum in a flash of electric blue streaks. Henryk and Logan, nose-diving like avenging angels, descended upon them with relentless speed.

    Piper''s eyes widened, and Ed''s triumphant laughter mingled with the exhilaration of their improbable rescue. As the newcomers closed in, Piper watched the girl they had saved celebrate with Ed. She couldn''t help but notice that Henryk''s imposing mech had safely cradled both of them in its enormous, metal fingers, like a giant cradling a fragile insect in its palm.

    When the duo was securely held, Henryk retracted his mech''s hands, carefully cradling the rescued girl. Piper couldn''t help but wonder why Henryk, now that his mission was complete, lingered. There was a subtle question in her mind ¨C why?

    Logan''s towering strider mech approached Piper, and she acknowledged him with a touch of bitterness. "Hello, Logan. Nothing to say now?"

    Logan released an audible sigh. "Piper, you always find something to say. You''re lucky Henryk spotted you beneath the ship. Who knows what might have transpired."

    Piper sneered at the suggestion. "This might have been your plan all along, huh?" she questioned, her back resting gently against the strider mech''s metallic palm. She gazed intently at Logan''s avian-like cockpit, her eyes narrowing.

    Logan''s silent response was laden with meaning. "Is it because of Henryk?"

    "Henryk?" she echoed, her voice tinged with incredulity. "What''s that redneck got to do with this?"

    Logan contemplated her words for a moment before explaining. "Henryk stuck around to ensure your safety. He didn''t want anything untoward to happen. If I hadn''t saved you, he might have reported me to the authorities."

    Piper managed a dry chuckle in response. "Can''t blame him, can you?" she mused, and could picture the shrug in Logan''s body language. "He and Edward are fresh students, still green as grass. You remember what your first day was like, and I do too."

    A silence fell between them, an unexpected camaraderie forged amidst the lingering tensions. Piper may not have liked Logan for various reasons, but in that moment, she felt a peculiar connection. They came from different houses, they were rivals, yet they shared a bond formed through the crucible of shared experiences. Despite their enmity, they were both human, and that commonality held a strange allure.

    Logan''s voice broke through the tension like a distant thunderclap. "Henryk is a frontiersman from some backwater world, but I don''t know much about Ed," he mused, trailing off into a brooding silence.

    Piper observed him from her precarious perch on the mechanical fingertips against the backdrop of the blue planet. His uncharacteristic silence hung in the air, a leaden weight on their shared misadventure. "Neptune has dibs on Henryk," he finally declared.

    Piper''s eyes widened in sheer surprise. "What?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of astonishment and curiosity.

    Logan attempted to explain his perspective. "I understand the ways of Zephyr and the recklessness of your Mercury comrades," he began. "But I also have knowledge about the girl that Henryk just saved."

    Piper''s eyes briefly flared wider, only to return to their normal state seconds later. A heavy sigh escaped her, and she turned to face the towering figure of Logan''s mech. "Logan, I''m not particularly invested in the politics of pilot recruitment," she confessed. "You know very well why I dispatched Simon to your faction."

    Logan pressed his lips together, then ventured, "For one of your own, perhaps?"

    Piper shook her head slowly. "Simon volunteered because he''s in love with his girlfriend, and the girl who left Neptune has aspirations of joining our house, considering it''s easier for her family to obtain citizenship on Mercury."

    Logan lapsed into silence, and this unusual quiet from the brash pilot raised Piper''s eyebrows. He almost sneered, and his next words were tinged with cynicism. "Both of you know exactly what Henryk and Ed have just accomplished," he acknowledged, sounding a note of wary anticipation. "Their actions will throw the houses into chaos. Leaving the transport is one thing, but saving the daughter of the planetary headmaster? That''s bound to make quite the impression."

    Piper held her tongue, but her mind whirred with thoughts about how she would need to brief her house''s leader, Zephyr, on the turn of events. Having Henryk on Mercury was no small concern. Logan, with his reputation and renown off-world, could command respect and loyalty from the residents of Stella, but Henryk, bearing Neptune''s blue colors, was a wildcard that could transform a valuable ally into a treacherous adversary.

    However, now was not the time for such contemplations. "Piper?" Logan''s voice called to her, closer now to the small cockpit airlock. It would be a tight squeeze, but it would save them from the tedious return to the academy.

    "Yes, Logan?" Piper replied, her tone crisp.

    "Did you not hear what I said when we boarded that damaged vessel?" Logan questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

    Piper maneuvered herself through the slender airlock, her fingers dancing across her keyboard as she navigated the tight space. "Nope," she admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "Usually, I tune you out. It''s mostly either sexism or childish insults, as far as I can tell."

    A laugh erupted from Logan in response, and Piper rolled her eyes, hardly amused as she continued with her tasks. "I could hear Henryk, though," she added, a hint of intrigue in her voice. "Say what you will, but I need to meet him in person and express my gratitude. I don''t know how he managed it, but he pinpointed her location with uncanny accuracy. I''m not sure about his technical specs or whatever, but¡­"

    The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit cockpit with Logan perched in his chair. He swiveled his head toward Piper, arm draped over the seat, his brows furrowed in bafflement.

    "What are you talking about?" Logan''s words sliced through the air, laced with confusion.

    Piper let out a derisive snort, shaking her head in disbelief. "Don''t play games," she snapped. "You must''ve heard Henryk. He had her location down to the inch. If we''d taken any other route, Ed and I might still be intact. But that girl, she''d have..."

    Logan interjected, his voice direct and disconcertingly calm. "Piper, Henryk never spoke a word to you. We lost all contact the moment you two entered that vessel, it was as if all communications had gone dark."

    Piper''s gaze remained locked on Logan, but for a fleeting moment, her eyes seemed to cast their sight far beyond. Out into the expanse of space, into the academy, and even deeper into the secrets harbored by the houses that directed humanity''s course throughout the solar system. A brewing tempest of mysteries and dark forces churned, unknown to the unsuspecting students of the academy.

    The Martians Had Come.

 Chapter 5 - The Choices of Houses

    The futuristic train of the far future glided above the holographic tracks, an ethereal streak of neon blue against the backdrop of a landscape unfamiliar to those who watched from below. Creatures, remnants of old Earth, raised their curious heads to catch a glimpse of the hovering train, their primitive instincts awakened by the pulsing power of the churning chemical engine.

    Margaret¡¯s dark brown eyes remained fixed on the world beyond the window. The heated argument between Zephyr and Piper played out in the background, their voices escalating into a discordant symphony of annoyance and anger, their arms gesticulating wildly in the confined space.

    Yet Margaret¡¯s attention remained steadfastly on the world passing by. She sighed, chin resting on the knuckles of her right hand as she leaned against the window. The train had ventured into the planet''s countryside. The academy planet had its central city, the hub of the campus, but it was still a world abundant with lush landscapes nestled in the heart of the cosmos. The Deacon System and its hardworking inhabitants chose to till the soil and dwell in quaint towns, far from the bustling epicenter of futuristic cities, where the greatest warriors, heroes, and leaders underwent their training.

    For a moment, Margaret found herself questioning the worth of it all, especially with Piper and Zephyr''s fiery exchange intruding on her thoughts.

    "Go fuck yourself!" Piper''s voice pierced through the cabin.

    Zephyr stared at him, momentarily taken aback. His gaze darted around, and he released a soft breath of relief upon realizing the privacy of their surroundings.

    His shock soon gave way to anger. "Really?" Zephyr retorted, stepping closer. "This is all your fault!"

    "My fault?" Piper echoed, a chuckle lacing his incredulous words.

    "Yes, your fault," Zephyr snapped. "Who the hell told you to go after the girl?"

    Piper''s laughter grew louder, defiant. "Are you really going to reprimand me for saving a girl who would''ve been torn apart in the cluster belt?" he retorted.

    Margaret tilted her head, curious to witness Zephyr''s reaction. He glanced at her briefly but then did a double-take, realizing her focused gaze was on him.

    Zephyr took a deep breath, his hands sliding down from his face. Sighing, he looked at his palms. "Your whole ''WarCasket,'' Piper," he lamented, his back making contact with one of the train''s chairs. "It''s completely gone."

    The weight of those words hung in the air, causing the fight to drain from both Piper and Margaret. While Margaret had only recently acquired a mech upon joining House Mercury, she understood the hefty price tag associated with them. The cheapest "WarCasket" models cost hundreds of thousands of imperial currency, and there were some so ancient, their production methods had been lost to history, rendering them priceless by comparison.

    In House Mercury, a place where even their lowest-ranking members were crammed into tiny dorms designed for two or three and stretched to accommodate five or more, Piper could feel the fight gradually draining from her.

    Margoret let out a weary sigh. "We''ve got replacements," she remarked.

    Zephyr raised his head to look at her. "Replacements?" he echoed, stretching a hand between the two girls. "Supplies, resources, mechs, guns, food, and water. These are amenities the academy won''t pay for, so, missions!"

    Piper and Margaret winced at the thought. Zephyr had an energy to his argument now that was hard to ignore. "Before, you were giving me a hard time about Clive, but at least Clive isn''t squandering thousands of dollars'' worth of equipment."

    Margaret snapped back, "Clive also enjoys beating up defenseless girls."

    Zephyr was instantly silenced, and he struggled to regain his composure. However, Margaret pressed on. "This is your problem, Zephyr," she lectured, advancing from her seat. "You try to excuse events, to make excuses if they benefit you in some way. Clive is busy being a terror, and you''re not doing anything to rein him in. You''re willing to yell at Piper, but the moment push comes to shove, you''re ready to dig into¡ª"

    "Do you even hear yourself?"

    It was Zephyr who posed the question, halting Piper''s impending anger. As Margaret and Piper watched, Zephyr''s face revealed the exhaustion of a young man truly burdened. He turned to face Margaret, and she saw the genuine weariness etched into his features. "Do you really believe that I can control Clive?"

    He clicked his lips, running his fingers through his beard, his exasperation palpable. Neither Piper nor Margaret was pleased with the way this conversation was heading. Zephyr sighed and took a seat on one of the train''s cushions, burying his face in his hands as he looked at them.

    "He''s a useful tool," Zephyr admitted.

    Piper winced at the words, but it was Margaret who spoke defiantly. "Even tools get discarded at some point," she chided. "Clive is nothing more than a rabid dog. Yes, he''s effective, but he doesn''t possess a trace of morale."

    "You don''t think I know that?" Zephyr retorted, his hand slicing through the air to emphasize his point. "He''s a feral dog, fueled by malice and cruelty. The moment he arrived here, he managed to save the house, and I know it, but please, you have to¡ª"

    He paused, and the room fell silent, as if he''d suddenly surrendered. Then he sighed.

    "I can''t control him," Zephyr admitted, locking eyes with both girls. "Clive is not just what you think he is. What he''s been doing out there for years, what he''s been searching for is¡­"

    Zephyr''s voice quivered, his lips quaking as he spoke. Margoret noticed it, and she was on the brink of interjecting, but Piper''s vision remained clouded by earlier anger, allowing frustration to seep into the space meant for understanding.

    "If you can''t control him, Zephyr," Piper said with a sharpness in her tone, "then just kick him out. We don''t need some abusive jerk who beats up girls. Think about that for a second. Sure, you''re mad at me, but the only reason we''re in this mess with Neptune is because of Clive. He''s the one causing trouble, and it''s unfair to everyone that he''s out there in the stars on a mission, evading responsibility."

    Everyone fell into silence, and Zephyr sighed, his hand covering his face for a moment.

    Margoret was poised to speak, but Zephyr acted before she had the chance, raising his hand to signal her to stop. "It''s all right, Margoret," he said. He sighed and glanced at both girls. "You''re right, Piper. Honestly, this is all my fault."

    Piper''s self-assured smile faded, and she crossed her arms, looking at Zephyr. Margoret remained silent, waiting for Zephyr to continue.

    Piper let out a sigh, her arms now wrapped around herself as she spoke to Zephyr. "But there''s something we need to discuss."

    All eyes turned to her.

    "Sirine," Piper said, her voice carrying an unexpected power. "She was the person we rescued."

    Margoret''s jaw threatened to drop. "Sirine?" she repeated in disbelief. "Are you sure it was Sirine?"

    "Yes," Piper confirmed, her gaze fixed intently on Zephyr. "Sirine Helmberg, the daughter of the headmaster and ruler of the world."

    Zephyr made a sound and buried his face in his hands. "So, it was just you and Logan," he muttered.

    But Piper and Margoret both shook their heads. "Actually, they didn''t even realize she was there," Margoret explained. "It''s hard to believe, but those cluster rings...if she''d stayed any longer, she would''ve either been ripped to shreds or lost in space."

    A puff of air escaped Piper. "What a way to go," she mumbled, slowly shaking her head. "I''ve been a pilot for years, and if there''s one thing that terrifies me, it''s the idea of that."

    "Didn''t you mention that you enjoy the quiet of space?" Margoret asked.

    Piper shot her a look. "Yeah, I did, but there''s a big difference between enjoying the serenity of the ocean from your boat and floating helplessly in the debris of your wrecked boat."

    The analogy drew a chuckle from Zephyr, and the girls fell silent. "So, what was it, then?" he inquired.

    Piper delved into the harrowing details of the recent events, her words painting a vivid picture for her audience. The duel was briefly mentioned, but her focus gravitated toward the intervention of Henryk and Ed, and their alliance with Logan to rescue Sirine.

    Zephyr wore an analytical expression, absorbing Piper''s narrative. "Henryk and Edward," he mused, turning his gaze towards Piper. "...and Logan''s interest lies with Henryk?" he inquired.

    "More like Neptune has a keen eye on Henryk," Piper clarified, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. "Henryk''s a bit rough around the edges, but he''s got something going for him. His mech is a little worn, but he''s equipped with a mech-patterned evisceration weapon."

    The revelation sent shockwaves through Zephyr and Margoret. "What?" Margoret finally exclaimed, struggling to wrap her mind around it.

    "Yeah, an evisceration weapon," Piper confirmed, her words holding an air of reverence. "He''s just a frontier guy. How the heck did he manage to get his hands on that kind of hardware out there in the deep frontier?"

    The trio remained in stunned silence, but Zephyr was the first to recover. "So, Neptune has claimed dibs on Henryk. He sounds genuinely talented. We could''ve used someone like him in the house."

    Piper sneered, her tone dripping with malicious intent. "And where would you have put him? Stuffed him in the closet with our cleaning supplies? Or maybe make him do shovel duty in the basement and carve his own room."

    Her words left a bitter taste in the air, but Zephyr was too weary to engage. He simply turned his head toward Margoret.

    Margoret chimed in, "The real question is whether the headmaster will meet with Henryk and Ed."

    Zephyr shifted his focus. "Speaking of Ed, what about him? Is he of interest to any other house?"

    Piper began to answer, but Margoret cut her off. "Nope, he mentioned that another house is already claiming him."

    Zephyr sighed deeply. "What a mess for the new year," he said with a dry chuckle. "But, hey, maybe there are a few other recruits interested in House Mercury. It might not be all that bad."

    Margoret couldn''t help but facepalm as she listened to the ensuing debate between Piper and Zephyr. Her mind, however, was preoccupied with other concerns. The conversation about Clive had unsettled her. The fleeting moment when Zephyr seemed distressed, as though he tried to reach out to them, had left her with a nagging sense of disquiet.

    But the discussion had reached its conclusion, and Zephyr would soon reassemble his fa?ade. Piper appeared smug and self-assured. Margoret sighed and rested her head against the window. The background noise of yet another argument gradually ignited. As she stared into the twilight outside, Margoret was acutely aware that the challenges ahead would test them in unimaginable ways.

    Eres III, the planet that turned boys into men¡ªor well, potentially women if you were on the liberal side of the cosmic spectrum.

    A planet of transformative tales and divergent paths, where the line between men and more was drawn in the margins of ideology. Henryk had been raised on the echoing whispers of this realm, a realm that teased at imagination.

    A realm where bluish walls, adorned with spectacles of light, radiated an almost ethereal glow, casting a natural yet otherworldly radiance upon the conversing souls within. The streets were sleek, paved with a promise of prosperity, and graced by the presence of opulent vehicles that seemed to flaunt their million-dollar status.

    Majesty''s drone-clearer bots would perform their dutiful ballet, sweeping across the surface, reducing even the tiniest imperfections to metallic confetti. Yet, the scattered remains of these tireless automatons lay strewn about like the discarded shells of a forgotten reality.

    Amidst this orchestrated opulence, the denizens moved, their attire modest yet distinct from Henryk''s accustomed sphere. They bore an air of elegance that set them apart from the mundane inhabitants of Henryk''s world.

    The common folk of his reality were tethered to the fringes of luxury, trapped in a suspended present like so many other worlds within the empire''s grasp. While some chose to embrace the technological splendor of spacertech living, others clung to archaic ideals, avoiding the siren call of medieval domains that flourished under the umbrella of the empire''s expansive dominion. These medieval bastions fueled the wheels of commerce, rejecting the relentless march of industryworlds, colossal workshops churning out the empire''s formidable arsenal.

    Above the serene hum of this society, the distant rumble of ancient earth train tracks resonated in Henryk''s ears. It wasn''t the train''s wheels that propagated the sound, but the haunting echo of their chemengines, a cerulean glow threading through the rails like lost spirits seeking refuge. Gravity spikes, those anchors to reality, punctuated the tracks, curbing the intangible wanderings of the engines.

    Henryk''s gaze fell upon himself, his academy uniform a tangible link to his surroundings. For the first time, his eyes met those of his peers. Some wore the attire of mid world, their numbers superior to the ragtag assembly of undesirables.

    Others bore the marks of industry or warfare, their stooped forms and weary eyes belying their pasts. Harsh light prodded them, coaxing them to the center of attention, where they huddled and recoiled, observed by the curious gazes of the commoners.

    Among them, a girl slapped an ironworlder, her disdain evident in her disgusted murmurings about these supposed remnants of humanity.

    In her midworld attire, the girl bore herself with an air of nonchalance, a product of the core and mid worlds'' privileged lineage. It was a stark contrast to the frontier life that Henryk knew ¨C a life carved by nature''s hand, untouched by the relentless machinery of the empire. Amidst the opulent woods and untamed waters of his colony, he saw the truth that defied the empire''s iron grip.

    Yet, an itch gnawed at his thoughts, like a persistent insect fluttering at the fringes of consciousness. Edward ¨C that enigmatic figure who had followed him, who had aided in the rescue of the girl. And there she stood, that girl, her gaze aflame with a fury that Henryk couldn''t fathom. She turned away from him, her focus seized by the window''s offering, leaving Henryk to sigh and listen to Edward''s animated banter as he engaged with his peers, his laughter weaving through the air like the rising notes of a haunting melody.

    The relentless assault of noise grated on Henryk''s nerves, loud and ceaseless. It wasn''t just Edward who bothered him, but the whole cacophonous scene before him. Henryk squinted, his gaze fixed on the sprawling expanse of urban wilderness that lay ahead. This place wasn''t where he wanted to be, that much was certain.

    All those tales of Eres, mere fabrications, a web of deceit spun to lure unsuspecting souls like his. Perhaps they were aged yarns, faded legends masking the true face of this place ¨C a sprawling, imposing academy, a monument to bygone eras. The Zachariah Sphere''s crown jewel, aptly named The Academy of The Zachariah Sphere, cradling the core worlds of Zachariah in its embrace. This institution, steeped in prestige, was the very first academy to grace the sphere''s space.

    It catered to an eclectic mix ¨C soldiers-in-training, sculpted into efficient instruments of war to fend off the cosmic others, those xenos and traitors. Here, engineers, mechanics, and green mech jockeys received instruction, not just for military endeavors, but also for a life as mercenaries or private guns for hire, their skillsets ripe for the galaxy''s picking. They were primed to serve the empire while training within these echoing corridors.

    Yet, Henryk''s purpose here deviated from the norm, a thread intertwined with many others within this train. Gathered from the nooks and crannies, the hovels, midworld boulevards, forge-world factories, or wherever the imperial mold labeled them and their kin. They congregated here for a singular reason ¨C the elusive dream of piloting a warcasket, those cosmic chariots of war. To ascend the heavens as empire-borne soldiers, to stand among those brave souls who aimed to claim the stars and expand humanity''s dominion. It was the dream that quickened Henryk''s pulse, the prospect he couldn''t help but relish.

    His reverie snapped like a taut string at the reverberations of hearty laughter cascading through the room. Irritation clawed at Henryk''s patience, his gaze shifting sharply back to Edward, the magnetic nucleus around whom camaraderie and feminine admiration swirled. Edward''s laughter danced, a boisterous tune that echoed with leadership and charisma. Yet, for all his magnetic charm, Henryk regarded him with a peculiar unease.

    Henryk''s focus wavered as a rustling beside him drew his attention. "Sorry... sorry," a soft voice, as if carried on a whisper, reached his ears. He turned, his gaze falling upon an approaching figure threading through the sea of bodies. The newcomer eased into the seat beside Henryk, a simple greeting breaking the awkward air.

    "Hello," the newcomer offered, a single word like a hesitant footstep in this buzzing landscape.

    Henryk responded with a nod, a slight, awkward tilt of his head in acknowledgment. The newcomer appeared about his age, perhaps a year junior. Disheveled brown hair crowned his head, a thick pair of glasses perched on his nose. A lanky frame bore the evidence of a growth spurt, and his boots seemed borrowed, their fit questionable. The stains adorning both boys'' attire spoke of shared experiences.

    Henryk''s gaze skittered away from the throng, his focus grazing his own garb. While the others appeared dapper and pristine, his clothes had been relegated to the realm of discarded relics, marred by dirt and neglect. He shook his head, a quiet inner monologue churning ¨C no use lamenting what couldn''t be altered.

    "Where do you hail from, partner?" came the soft query, an attempt to bridge the silence between them.

    The chatter flowed like a restless river. One voice, persistent and sharp, cut through the stream, directed at Henryk. They sat, facing each other, two disparate souls sharing a space. The boy opposite him knelt, his spine curved, not the sagging of the inlanders but a simple case of wretched posture.

    ¡°Mind your own business, pal,¡± Henryk shot back, the words snapping like a whip.

    His narrowed gaze shifted from the kid to Edward, the rambunctious epicenter of noise and energy. Henryk watched as Edward''s hands wove an intoxicating dance, a bewitching display that lured a girl from the sea of faces. And oh, how she swooned as his touch ignited her heart.

    Henryk''s retort quivered on his lips, but his mind traced the trail of events that had spiraled from his disregard of Edward''s actions, a neglect that had birthed this chaos. His thoughts flitted to the girl tucked in the corner, raven-black tresses resembling the ominous wings of death, her emerald gaze a raptor''s focus zeroing in on him from the far reaches of the room.

    "Looks like you''ve got a few foes and a few allies," the boy remarked, his voice a thread in the tapestry of noise.

    A sigh escaped Henryk''s lips, his spine conforming to the train''s fabric, a weariness enveloping him. His fingers found his brow, the touch a fleeting respite. Planetfall had yet to occur, and already some enigmatic girl was brimming with fury toward him, and now this boy had intertwined his fate with Henryk''s impulsive intervention.

    Amidst the cacophony of laughter that reverberated around Edward, Henryk witnessed the siren''s spell in action. Men vied for Edward''s attention, and women clamored for more ¨C from the modest girls who quivered in obscurity, their cheeks tinted with hidden blush, to the noblewomen who elbowed their way into proximity.

    "You and I share a ship, partner," the boy offered, a hint of camaraderie lighting his eyes as his hand extended toward Henryk. "Name''s Jose... Jose Torray, hail from colony world Tovian."

    "Frontier kid, huh?" Henryk inquired, the echo of recognition resonating within him. A connection, albeit fragile, linked their histories ¨C but such a kinship could easily crumble under the weight of life''s harsh whims.

    A small smirk played on Jose''s lips, the gesture conveying the shared sentiment, that delicate kinship, which often held little value beyond its fleeting nature. Henryk exhaled, his fingers hesitating before they finally met Jose''s extended hand.

    "Henryk," he stated, the name a bridge between them.

    As conversation ebbed and flowed, the two exchanged tales of their homelands. Yet, their discourse swiftly veered toward the events that had set this stage.

    "Tovian''s a sunny paradise, beaches and rainforests sprawling across scattered islands," Jose recounted, his words an invitation to a far-off world.

    Henryk nodded, his gaze distant. "My place is along the new edges of the frontier, a lone continent stretched wide. Forests as dense as forgotten histories, creatures echoing old Earth ¨C wolves, crows, and..."

    Mark''s voice broke in, hijacking their narrative. "Fascinating, Henryk. You come here with company?"

    A beat of silence hung before Henryk slowly shook his head. Bitterness briefly contorted his features, then dissolved into resignation.

    "I was the shining star of my colony, earned my ticket to the academy," he explained, his tone tinged with a mix of pride and regret.

    "Fame and fortune for your home, huh?"

    Henryk teetered on the precipice of speech, his mind caught in the undertow of Ed''s earlier words. His molars ground against each other, a desperate hold against the torrent of emotions that surged within him. The air grew taut, charged with unspoken words and fragile intentions. Jose raised his hands, a peace offering adorned with a mocking grin, an attempt to defuse the impending storm.

    "Hey, no shame in fighting for more than yourself, partner," he retorted, and the raw tension that once gripped Henryk began to shift, mutating into an inward battle.

    A nod from Jose directed Henryk''s gaze toward a figure. A girl, modest in stature, her features full and soft, yet her eyes held a quiet resilience. Fingers brushed her lap, the floor''s pattern capturing her attention. "Mags," Jose introduced, voice gentle. "Only us from our neck of the woods. No fancy scholarships, but we''re here to turn the profit wheels for our home. No disgrace in that."

    A grunt punctuated Henryk''s annoyance, his arms folding tightly across his chest. He sought refuge in the window''s vista, hoping the city''s sprawling panorama might provide solace. Alas, it didn''t.

    But the internal turbulence drew his mind back to times when the clash of metal on metal had echoed in his senses. The moments that ignite a soldier''s soul, that ignite the core of a warrior, a glimpse into what his father must''ve experienced within that fleeting instance. The intoxicating thrill of piloting a warcasket, a deadly dance in the theater of war.

    "We''re here to carry the banner of honor and legacy for our worlds," Jose mused, his voice a distant echo. His lean silhouette mirrored the metropolis beyond the window. "But it''s a heavy load, isn''t it, Henryk?"

    As Henryk''s focus swung back to Jose, a pointed piece of advice fell from his lips. "We each have our reasons for being here. I''d recommend steering clear of that girl over yonder."

    Henryk''s interest piqued, his gaze returned to the girl in question. "Why''s that?" he inquired, a thread of curiosity lacing his tone. "Not gonna lie, she''s got an attitude bigger than the horizon, but what''s the story?"

    Saliva splattered the train''s floor, a disdainful punctuation. His action rippled through the onlooking crowd, a spectacle that drew both repulsion and amusement. Jose caught the faint chuckle concealed within Henryk''s act, an act that seemed to thrive on the chaos it summoned. It left Jose contemplating if Henryk grasped the chaos he sowed, or if he reveled in it unawares.

    For Henryk, it only compounded the enigma. A sigh parted Jose''s lips. "That''s the planet lord''s daughter you rescued from the ring of chaos," he divulged, his words a revelation that shattered Henryk''s composure.

    "What?" Henryk''s eyes widened, and a solitary word sprang forth. "How?" But before the query could find its reply, the train shuddered to a halt, the clicking of thrusters harmonizing with the holographic rails. The doors yawned open, and the AI''s automated voice ushered safety protocols, a herald for their disembarkment.

    Duffel bag hoisted over his shoulder, Henryk joined the procession, a sea of colors, shapes, and sizes melding as they flowed from the train. They coursed like a river of bison weaving through mountain gorges, their collective presence an awe-inspiring spectacle as they converged upon the academy''s threshold.

    He stepped into the embrace of the open sky, his footfalls grounding him in this new terrain. The campus surged with vibrant life, a hive of activity, and the older students directed their hollers and gestures toward the newcomers ¨C boys and girls alike. Catcalls and jeers erupted like raucous music, a chorus of brash voices accompanying their passage.

    Among the throngs, Henryk navigated, propelled forward, and by his side stood Jose, an unspoken bond forming in this sea of chaos. A brief backward glance revealed Mags, halted amidst the tide, a trapped bird about to be consumed. Yet, Henryk found himself drawn onward, driven by an unexplainable impulse, and Jose clung close, a silent sentinel.

    But a moment''s consideration shifted his focus back to Mags. He called out over the din, "Your acquaintance, is she¡ª"

    "Not exactly my friend," Jose interjected, urgency lacing his voice. "We need to move, now."

    Henryk faltered, his pace slowing as he pivoted to glimpse Mags. She stood, fragile amidst the commotion, her hands clamped over her ears as if drowning in the clamor. Helplessly, she swayed, buffeted by the currents of their peers.

    Resolve surged within him, a fleeting impulse compelling him forward. He reached her side, his grip firm as he enveloped her in his protection. Her gaze met his, an unspoken bond forming in the shared silence, gratitude and admiration emanating from her eyes. A glance toward Jose revealed his initial skepticism melting away into a more benevolent expression.

    "Guess you''re sticking with me," Henryk sighed, as much to himself as to the newfound companions beside him.

    He led them onward, their journey guiding them through the crowd. Suitcases scraped against the ground, a symphony of rustling and clinking. Privileged ones, burdened by opulent baggage, some hauled by servants, paraded their status. A cavalcade of possessions, each bag laden with the weight of four years'' confinement. Henryk, his lone duffelbag slung over his shoulder, watched in stark contrast, the frayed edges and patches telling tales of battles it had endured, a testament to his mother''s labor.

    His uniform, once a badge of honor, had dulled in this sea of opulence. Regret rippled within him, a sense of inadequacy as he embodied his colony''s image in worn and tattered attire. Could he evoke pride when he presented himself in this state of disrepair?

    A voice called his name, a buoy in the sea of faces. Henryk''s gaze followed the sound, landing on Edward ¨C a familiar visage amidst the crowd. A smirk played on Edward''s lips, his backpack hanging loosely. "Nice to see a friendly face!" he hailed.

    "Is it really?" Henryk retorted, a sigh blending with his words, his demeanor unburdened by false enthusiasm.

    Edward''s inquiry shifted toward Mags and Jose, his curiosity evident. "Who''re these two?" he prodded, his gaze lingering on them. Then, a wry grin danced on his lips. "You''ve got a knack for finding company."

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    A scoff slipped past Henryk''s lips, his arms folding defensively across his chest. "More like they have a knack for finding me," he shot back, his gaze gravitating toward the raven-haired silhouette in the distance. "Edward, did you have any inkling about¡ª"

    "The girl we pulled from the chaos?" Edward finished, his tone reflective.

    Ed''s nod was a measured agreement. "Yeah, I got the lowdown," he acknowledged, casting a quick, surreptitious glance at her. "Athleen Clezal. Desmond Clezal''s only child."

    Henryk''s eyes seemed to bore into the depths of Athleen''s dark tresses. "What was she doing out there?" he mused aloud. "Trapped in that wreckage. If we hadn''t shown up, who knows what¡ª"

    Ed''s nonchalance cut through Henryk''s train of thought. He shrugged, hands raised in a dismissive gesture. "Not our business," he stated, his hands waving for Henryk to follow. Resigned, Henryk exhaled, his steps tracing the path Ed had set. The echo of two more pairs of footsteps followed in their wake.

    As Ed continued, the words poured from his mouth, a stream of advice and caution. "Henryk, you seem like a decent enough guy. Grounded, you know. But here''s the thing," he paused, pivoting to face Henryk without slowing his stride. They surged through the crowd, their destination a looming main building. Warcaskets, formidable machines of military design, stood sentinel, guiding them forward.

    "Listen up," Ed urged, his voice firm. "Be careful ''round here, especially with these space girls. A simple frontier kid like you," he motioned to Henryk, "might wanna think twice ''fore messin'' with someone like her."

    Henryk''s expression tightened, heat spreading across his features. "Got somethin'' to say?" he snapped, his words a defiant challenge. "Spit it out, or¡ª"

    "Easy there," Ed waved off, his patience bordering on exasperation. "It''s like every word you hear''s a chip on your shoulder. I ain''t sayin'' you ain''t up to par. Just that sometimes, bigger fish to fry than gettin'' tangled up in someone else''s mess."

    Henryk''s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. Ed was mildly perplexed; he wondered if Henryk misconstrued his words as a slight. Perhaps he took Ed''s advice as a commentary on his lowly birth, implying he stood no chance with Athleen.

    Ed''s sigh was heavy, his head shaking slightly. "Forget it," he muttered, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. "All I''m sayin'' is, a girl like that, she can be a storm waitin'' to break. Sometimes, you gotta focus on your own battles ''fore takin'' on someone else''s baggage. But you do you."

    With a dismissive wave, Ed concluded his piece of advice. They finally reached their destination, a sight that unfolded before them like a revelation. A grand coliseum stretched out, reminiscent of ancient Earth''s sporting arenas. Its vastness was awe-inspiring, a testament to the spectacles of a bygone era.

    The warcaskets, stoic sentinels with their single, unyielding eyes, glistened in varying shades of green and auburn, each a unique amalgamation of weaponry and armor, a reflection of the individual pilots who manned them.

    The entrance opened, ushering them in. Dim lighting painted intricate games of shadows along the walls as they followed a narrow passage, restricted from splitting off to the sides. A few moments later, they emerged into a scene that unfurled like a dream.

    Before them sprawled a field, a vivid expanse of synthetic grass that seemed to stretch beyond the horizon. They basked in the glow of intense lights, momentarily adjusting to the luminance. Gradually, Henryk''s eyes focused, and the spectacle crystallized before him ¨C a massive circular area delineated by a peculiar deep red barrier.

    The focal point radiated a powerful luminescence, drawing their attention to its epicenter, while the rest of the assembly was cast into shadows, mere observers on the periphery. "Sit," a firm command sliced through the air, and they obediently complied, finding their designated places. Henryk found himself beside Edward, Mags and Jose taking their positions nearby.

    The seats were not seats at all, but rather synthetic turf that pricked against their legs. Edward swiveled, scanning the faces around him, while the illumination gradually dimmed, plunging them into a twilight realm. An elbow nudged Henryk''s side, and he scowled, unleashing a retaliatory punch that landed with more force than intended. Edward raised his hands in playful surrender, rubbing his arm where the blow had landed.

    A feigned smile tugged at his lips. "You hit harder than you need to," he remarked.

    Henryk''s response was curt, his annoyance palpable as he took a deep, steadying breath. "You didn''t have to touch me," he retorted.

    Edward raised an eyebrow, realization dawning a beat later. "Touch issues, huh?" he inquired, the words slipping from his mouth before he fully processed them.

    Henryk''s arched eyebrow held a challenge. "Listen up, partner," he snapped, his tone tinged with irritation and a touch of cynicism. "I ain''t into that kind of stuff, so if you don''t wanna get punched again, keep your hands to yourself."

    "Woah, hold on," Edward backpedaled hastily, hands lifted in defense.

    "You said what you said," Henryk reminded him, his tone carrying a dry humor.

    Edward exhaled, his frustration mingling with exasperation. "I like girls," he sighed. "I''m into girls, really."

    "Sure thing, partner," Henryk chuckled. "Just remember, touching guys and acting all confused when they ain''t thrilled about it ain''t a winning strategy."

    "I wasn''t thinking," Edward admitted, his tone more genuine.

    "More like you were thinking about the wrong things," Henryk quipped.

    Edward opened his mouth to protest further, but a smirk from Henryk deflated his resolve. "You''re too damn easy to mess with," he conceded, waving off the conversation.

    Edward sighed, glancing around to ensure no one had overheard. The last thing he needed was a rumor spreading on his first day that he was leaning a different way than he actually did. However, as his eyes refocused on the center of the room, a darkness clouded his gaze.

    To Henryk, it might have appeared as nothing more than a random stone platform bathed in the spotlight, adorned with unfamiliar glyphs and markings. Yet Edward understood. He knew the weight such symbols carried, a significance far beyond the grasp of someone born in the fringes. These symbols held tales, legends, inscribed in the sands of Mars ages past, bearing a legacy that still resonated.

    "My old man pushed me to be here," Edward confessed, his voice carrying a trace of resignation.

    Unbeknownst to Ed, his words slipped from his lips, casting Henryk''s gaze in his direction. The other two individuals who had gravitated to Henryk''s side engaged in their own chatter, their voices blending into a distant hum. Ed struggled to make sense of the girl; something about her rubbed him the wrong way. As for the boy, an unidentifiable disquiet simmered within Ed, a feeling he couldn''t quite place.

    "Your father?" Henryk echoed, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words. "Seems like a lot of folks'' fathers share that ambition."

    A faint chuckle escaped Ed. "Yeah, guess you''re right," he conceded, a sigh lacing his response. His attention oscillated between the crowd and the stage. The red marking at the center still held a peculiar allure, a mark of history maintained, whether in honor or mockery of past glories. The false emperor''s morbid sense of humor seemed to persist.

    His gaze settled once again on the girl from earlier, another first-year like himself. Her infatuation remained undiminished, prompting Ed to offer a small wave. Her blush and the hushed conversations among her friends only fueled his smirk.

    However, a shadow crept over his features. "My father was in this very place, too," he began, his tone tinged with a mixture of reminiscence and bitterness.

    "Your old man came to the academy?" Jose''s voice interjected, drawing both Ed and Henryk''s attention.

    Ed hesitated, then nodded slowly as if weighing the words. "Yeah," he finally confirmed. The revelation triggered Jose''s awe, directed now at Mags. "You must be swimming in wealth, huh?" he remarked, his voice ripe with admiration and envy.

    But it was Henryk who slapped his thigh with gusto, erupting into a hearty bout of laughter. "This guy, rich!" he proclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Ed. "This poor kid right here didn''t even make it to third-class luxury. He was bunking in the garage of the¡ª"

    "Enough," Ed cut him off, a dismissive wave of his hand accompanying the command. "It''s just... it''s weird, you know? Being back here. So much has changed."

    Henryk brushed off the topic, his gaze locked straight ahead as a lone figure traversed toward the center of the room. "What matters is the here and now. Right at this moment, I won''t let anything or anyone derail my goals," he stated resolutely.

    Ed regarded him for a beat, then sighed. "You''re one stubborn son of a gun, Henryk," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

    "I figure my old man would''ve liked you," Ed mused.

    Henryk''s shrug spoke volumes. "It is what it is," he responded, a touch of melancholy beneath the casual tone. "My old man''s gone too."

    The lights dimmed fully just as their conversation was poised to continue. Henryk''s eyes widened, taking in the unfolding spectacle before him.

    In the midst of the shadows, a lone figure emerged. A man of intriguing stature, his hair a cascade of silvery strands, his eyes a striking shade of luminous blue. Clad in a commanding uniform that bespoke high-ranking officer status within the empire.

    Definitely feelin'' that," Henryk responded with a touch of dry humor. "There''s this..." His words trailed off as a bead of sweat traced his brow. He sighed and dismissed it with a wave. "Never mind," he muttered, detecting the disappointment etching Ed''s expression.

    Ed¡¯s gaze lingered on Henryk for a moment, then returned to the enigmatic man. As the man began to speak, an undercurrent of anxiety churned within Henryk. His thoughts skittered to the girl and Henryk¡¯s peculiar interaction with her. How did Henryk know her whereabouts when no one else did? A girl who, by all accounts, should have perished in that wreckage. But they intervened, and the cluster array, designed to block any entry or exit, was disrupted. Edwards features darkened as he forced his attention forward, withdrawing into himself, his knees drawn to his chest.

    The girl''s fate should have been sealed, yet his interference altered that fate, allowed him to see and sense things that defied explanation. An underlying power, a hidden realm...

    "Hello," the man''s voice reverberated, startling Henryk with its volume. Whipping around, he realized the man was speaking into a microphone. Yet, others were far more affected. A boy cowered, curled into a ball, while a companion attempted to console him against the auditory onslaught.

    "What the hell?" Henryk whispered, perturbed by the volume but perplexed by the extreme reaction.

    "He''s probably from a feudal world," Jose chimed in beside him, nodding toward the distressed boy.

    "Feudal world?" Henryk queried, his brow furrowing in confusion.

    Jose chuckled softly. "Man, you really are a country bumpkin. I''m from the frontier, but at least I''ve got a decent grip on the empire''s history."

    Henryk''s voice cut through the hum of the assembly, his words imbued with a matter-of-fact quality. "Our majesty''s got a sprawling army and planets. A single man can''t grasp it all."

    Jose''s dismissive wave held an edge, his narrowed eyes betraying an underlying irritation at Henryk''s tone. To Jose, it seemed Henryk''s words lacked the veneer that many wore while conversing. Jose opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated. He glanced at someone by his side, a swift exchange of whispers imbuing him with an unexpected calmness, his fingers flexing in rhythm.

    "You got the basics down?" Jose''s question was pointed, his finger now aimed at a particular student. The prior tension had subsided, replaced by an air of authority.

    Henryk shot him a glance loaded with skepticism. "Don''t you think I already do? Don''t play coy with me."

    Jose waved off his response. "Never hurts to be sure," he quipped. "So, let me school you on feudal worlds. They''re like time-frozen planets."

    That proclamation earned an arched eyebrow from Henryk. "Feudal worlds? Don''t hear about ''em often. What''s the deal?"

    "I bet," Jose chuckled knowingly. "These planets are trapped in a technological era reminiscent of ancient Earth. But they carry echoes of Earth''s old customs and cultures."

    Pausing, Jose''s expression turned enigmatic, as if wrestling with a secret. With a sigh, he directed his finger toward the lone circular glyph at the center of the field. "That right there... it''s House Mars. One of the famous feudal worlds, and quite possibly the one to kick it all off. Legend has it they hailed from Old Earth''s Europe, calling themselves the Knights of The Empire."

    "Knights?" Henryk echoed, puzzled. "Not soldiers?"

    "Ever heard of the Knights of Mars?" Jose inquired, intrigued.

    But the words were fading as Henryk struggled to focus. The figure at the center had started speaking, droning on about the mundane aspects of the school orientation. Congratulating arrivals, delving into fragments of history, and predominantly extolling the immediate induction into the houses¡ªsingular?

    "I¡¯ve heard a bit, but not much," Henryk admitted, his curiosity piqued.

    Jose paused, genuine shock crossing his features. "You''re seriously behind the curve," Jose quipped, his tone edged.

    "Henryk," Jose sighed. "You''ve got to broaden your historical knowledge. The Knights of Mars? They were the imperial sword for generations."

    A contemplative pause followed as Jose gestured to their surroundings. "Funny, isn''t it? The way Mars used to be... the solar system''s houses would''ve vied for the royal family''s favor."

    Henryk''s curiosity surged. "So what shifted the tide?"

    Amidst the wild cacophony of chants, clapping, and revelries that enveloped them, a sudden pallor swept over Jose''s face, turning his complexion ghostly white. He cast anxious glances all around, his confidence dissipating into thin air. "What happened?" Henryk questioned, his agitation mounting as the day''s tribulations compounded. A beautiful girl''s disdain, Ed''s incessant pestering, and now this peculiar behavior from Jose ¨C a cocktail of circumstances he''d rather avoid. Yet, he was being dragged into it all.

    "Jose," Henryk''s voice grew harsher, a tinge of impatience seeping in.

    "Fine," Jose relented, his voice quivering as he averted his gaze. "They were banished, censured..."

    Henryk''s eyes widened at the revelation. "Banished... censured?" He paused, his gaze drawn back to the enigmatic glyph. "But why? I''ve heard of such punishments, but I''ve never..."

    "It was due to a civil war within House Mars," Jose explained, turning to face Ed. Unbeknownst to him, the way he looked at Jose now caught Ed''s attention. Jose continued, his words flowing. "Upon the death of the previous emperor, his adopted son ascended the throne. However, House Mars launched a bid for power, orchestrating an assassination attempt on the emperor and plotting to seize control of the empire."

    Ed''s scoff echoed, cutting through the air. He turned to Jose, his expression laced with skepticism and a hidden anger that barely veiled his contempt. "Do you truly believe that?" Ed''s question hung heavily, and the silence that followed was tense, the unspoken tension between them palpable. Henryk watched, an unwitting spectator to their verbal fray.

    Jose stammered in response. "Y-Yes, because... why would our benevolent emperor act in such a manner? To resort to assassination, after years of unwavering service?" Jose''s voice carried an almost reverential tone as he spoke of the emperor, casting him as an almost godlike figure. Yet, the words dripped with a reverence that was no more than a pretense, as though Jose was aware that this "god" would scorn him if he stood before him.

    "You deify him," Ed''s words dripped with venom, a bitterness he might not have intended to reveal so openly. He couldn''t help himself.

    "Edward, enough," Henryk''s intervention was swift, his raised hands a plea for ceasefire, a desperate bid to quell the mounting confrontation.

    But Ed pressed on. "The emperor broke his own rules in regards to the use of nuclear arms."

    Jose''s sneer was palpable. "The rules were etched in history centuries ago... and the Martians acted dishonorably."

    "Dishonorably?" Edward snapped, his restrained fury bursting forth. "Centuries of loyal service, the bulwark against the insect onslaught in the past, they carried the moniker of knights, shouldering the sacrifices that paved the way for this empire''s ascendancy. And in return, the emperor showered nuclear fire upon them... he obliterated an entire planet and branded them with censure marks."

    Jose only grunted. "Traitors, the whole lot of them."

    Turning to Henryk, he summarized, "That''s the essence of the Martian transgressions."

    Edward seethed, a simmering anger uncontained, his gaze locking onto Henryk. Yet, a sigh slipped from him, a concession of sorts, as he shook his head slowly.

    "What''s your take on this, Henryk?" Jose''s question hung in the air, expectant.

    "I reckon, our emperor..." Henryk sighed, his voice weighed down. "Our emperor''s got his plan, and if he says traitors are traitors, I''m here to heed and serve the royal line."

    Ed''s disappointment was plain to see, the shift in his expression saying more than words ever could.

    But then, a sound, a swell of laughter echoing like a choir of madness, erupted from both sides. The Houses were ascending. Those from the core worlds, at least. Amidst this surge of life, the simple-minded looked ahead, eyes wide with anticipation. Young men and women, forged on the fringes of humanity''s most ambitious endeavors, hailed from distant corners of the cosmos. Just like Jose and Henryk, who bore the weight of archaic Earth names, relics of worlds long gone, carried forth on the crest of nobility.

    Yet, watch for Sirine¡ªremember that name, let it seep in. She''s a figure from epics, a name to heed. As the Houses ascended, as the distinguished scions of empire''s high lineage, the din of jubilation swirled like a tempest. The grand lords of worlds, those who led humanity''s first crusade, culminating in the annihilation of the ancient insect warriors, now saw their legacy carried forth by their kin.

    Ed swiveled to face them, his masked disdain concealed amidst the cheers. Wide-eyed, incensed, and calculated¡ªlike a beast on the brink. Cheers and ovation rang out, mirthful and careless, and while the applause swelled, Ed sat, his heart racing like a captive bird in his chest. An arrow strung, aimed at his target.

    Sirine, the symbol of Helen in this narrative, though the irony would reveal itself later.

    Henryk, swept away by the hysteria, beamed with joy, his gaze absorbed by these exalted figures. While Ed glared in loathing, Henryk adored them.

    Such sentiment was shared among the underbelly of the galaxy, where the downtrodden sought camaraderie. Meanwhile, the middle echelons stagnated within their hierarchical trappings, while the elite vied among themselves for greater ascendancy.

    A realization dawned on Ed, crystallized in that moment as he looked upon Henryk with a blend of sadness and realization. Not the disappointment of a friendship fraying, but the lament of one who saw the truth, while the other clung to shadows.

    "Enough of this,"

    The choir silenced almost instantly. Xarl ¨C a name etched in memory ¨C ran his fingers through his hair, a casual gesture.

    Henryk glanced around, colors of the houses, their insignia embedded on the chairs, obscured by the throng.

    However, Henryk tilted his head upward, gazing at the balcony overhead. Shadows cloaked the figures perched there, their uniforms a bold, blazing orange. His vision strained to make them out¡ªa trio of shapes, two girls and a guy.

    Among them, a cascade of golden hair framed the face of one girl. Henryk''s eyes fixed on her, entranced by the glint of her mane, but before his thoughts could complete, a voice¡ªcommanding, powerful¡ªrattled through the air.

    "Welcome to the academy."

    His spine tingled as he spun around to confront the source. Xarl stood before him, close enough that their breaths could mingle in the cool air. Silver eyes bore into him with an intensity that sent a shiver down Henryk''s spine, matching the silver thread adorning the hilt of a blade.

    Surprised, Henryk yelped, almost colliding into the person behind him. A ripple spread through the crowd, parting them like water to reveal the void in their midst. All eyes turned toward Xarl, expressions a mix of astonishment and fear. Even Ed felt a tremor of dread wash over him.

    The man before them was lithe, his uniform almost too large for his frame. Yet, an otherworldly quality clung to him, a strangeness that unsettled Henryk more than he cared to admit. "Did your momma forget to teach you manners?" Xarl''s voice carried, the words an echo in the hushed space.

    Henryk stammered, frustrated at the slip in his composure, feeling as though his teeth might shatter from the clenching. He wasn''t accustomed to stuttering.

    "Then why ain''t you paying attention?" Xarl''s voice boomed, filling the space with its commanding presence. A sea of eyes locked onto Henryk. Fellow students, peers, and a select few dignitaries¡ªall directed their gaze toward him.

    "Y-yes, she did," Henryk forced out, the words tasting like vinegar on his tongue.

    "Then tell me why you look like a calf at a slaughter. In the fifty-eight years I''ve served this academy, you''re the first hick who seems more lost than a worm in a whiskey bottle." Xarl''s words, though harsh, held an odd humor.

    Ed''s jaw practically hit the floor. His eyes darted to Henryk, not quite believing the display unfolding before him. Henryk spat on the floor¡ªa brazen, unexpected move. Xarl recoiled, a look of surprise flitting across his face, but the curve of his lips remained enigmatic.

    "Ain''t got much interest in this show," Henryk retorted.

    A stunned silence blanketed the scene. The noble attendees were aghast at the utter lack of respect. Yet, amidst the gasps, a flicker of something different emerged.

    Sirine, the girl with the blond hair, burst into uncontrollable laughter. She doubled over, her mirth echoing through the hall. Even her father couldn''t help but sigh, a hint of exasperated amusement.

    "Have a seat," Xarl commanded, moving away. The peculiarity of the interaction still clung to Henryk, a residue of unease as Xarl returned to the center of attention.

    Xarl''s voice filled the hall like a swell of thunder, each word resonating with the weight of authority and history. The houses of the solar system emerged from the shadows like players on a cosmic stage, each step forward a revelation of their unique essence.

    "Behold, the Houses of the Solar System," Xarl''s proclamation echoed, a cadence of power, but felt robotic and . "From the blistering heart of Mercury to the enigmatic realms of Neptune, every house carries its own saga, its own narrative, and its own destiny."

    Neptune House stepped up, led by the charismatic Stella ¡®Isadora¡¯ Solaris. Dressed in garments that glowed like molten gold, Stella¡¯s eyes blazed with a fire that matched her confidence. A grin split her lips as she met Xarl''s gaze head-on.

    Logan was next to her, draped in white garment and a bed of feathers formed a crown amongst himself. He rose his hand and the audience roared his name.

    "Close to the sun we may be, but our ambition ignites even hotter," she declared, a sharp edge to her words. "Within Neptune¡¯s crucible, destinies are forged."

    Venus House followed, captained by the enigmatic Seraphina Lysander. Their attire was a canvas of vibrant hues and intricate designs. Seraphina''s hypnotic gaze locked onto Xarl''s, her presence magnetic. "Our allure is insatiable, our sway undeniable," she purred, her voice dripping honey and intrigue. "Venusians thrive amid elegance and mystery."

    With grounded pride, Earth House made their entrance, led by the unwavering Atticus Evergreen. Their clothing bore the imagery of landscapes and nature''s embrace. Atticus emanated an aura of solidity and warmth. "Rooted in the very soil beneath us, we stand as stewards of life''s tapestry," he stated with conviction. "From the earth to the heavens, unity and diversity are our mantle."

    Jupiter House burst forth with joyous grandeur, helmed by the exuberant Caspian Oberon. Their garments were opulent and Caspian''s booming voice resonated like thunder as he slapped Xarl on the back. "Largest among the gas giants, we personify expansion and abundance," he roared. "Joviality reigns supreme in the domain of Jupiter!"

    Saturn House followed in disciplined elegance, guided by the poised Elara Thorne. Adorned with rings reminiscent of their planet''s beauty, they exuded an air of calculated grace. Elara''s wry smile lingered. "We are the architects of order, the guardians of equilibrium," she asserted. "Saturn''s poise resides in structure and discipline."

    Uranus House advanced, led by the innovative Lucius Starforge. Their attire spoke of invention and progress. Lucius'' eyes sparked with curiosity as he raised a quizzical eyebrow at Xarl. "Uranians challenge conventions, pushing boundaries and embracing the winds of change," he announced. "Innovation and ingenuity carve our path."

    Last to make their entrance, Neptune House graced the stage, steered by the enigmatic Aurora Selene. Their garments flowed like ocean waves, mirroring their planet''s enigma. Aurora''s gaze held a depth of introspection as she whispered, "From the recesses of imagination, we seek truths veiled to others. Neptune''s realm is woven with dreams and intuition."

    In the midst of these introductions, jest and repartee danced between the houses, a testament to both camaraderie and rivalry that bound these powerful entities. Laughter and playful remarks punctuated their interactions, unveiling the intricate relationships woven among the solar system''s noble clans.

    However, there was a pause. ¡°Pluto?¡± Questioned Xarl, and he heard the snicker arise from a couple of members from the scattered houses.

    An eyebrow arched. ¡°So, that¡¯s what your doing?¡± Xarl looked into there eyes. And a heavy sigh erupred from his core.

    Ed leaned toward Henryk, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Quite a show, huh?"

    Henryk''s gaze remained locked on the unfolding spectacle. "Feels like Shakespeare took a cosmic road trip, don''t it?"

    As the echoes of Xarl''s voice faded, the room trembled with anticipation. House introductions had ignited a fire of curiosity within the assembled students, but now, the air was thick with tension. The room had become a theater of destiny, and every gaze was locked onto the unfolding drama.

    Xarl''s eyes gleamed with a mixture of authority and intrigue. He paced the stage, every step imbued with purpose. "It''s time to unveil the paths that fate has woven for you," he proclaimed, his words carrying weight. "House picking, my young scholars, will determine your journey within these hallowed halls."

    The presidents and peers of the houses stood like kings and queens upon their thrones, adorned in regal garments that seemed to blend with their very essence. Yet, amidst the grandeur, the rest of the crowd, the frontiersmen and the less privileged, struggled in their own metaphorical rags, each heart weighed by the knowledge of their place.

    Henryk felt the weight of his own dreams and desires in the midst of it all. A fleeting smirk danced upon his lips, a momentary rebellion against the boundaries of reality. But dreams were fragile things, and he quickly let the smirk fade, lest he be consumed by his own yearnings. And yet, his eyes betrayed a stolen glance at the headmaster''s daughter, a dream he couldn''t shake.

    As individuals began to rise from the sea of faces, moving with purpose, Henryk''s gaze fixated on the few that stood apart. They were the chosen ones, the ones who bore the promise of scholarships and early entry. Their steps, though different, seemed to echo the same rhythm of fate.

    Xarl''s voice pierced the silence like a conductor guiding an orchestra. "Alright, then."

    Amidst the rising camaraderie, a silent question gnawed at Henryk''s thoughts. Where would he fit into this intricate web of houses and destinies? As the tension mounted, a figure emerged, like a shadow weaving through the crowd¡ªEdward. His presence was undeniable, wrapped in an aura of self-assured confidence that bordered on audacity.

    Jose''s disbelief cut through the air like a sharp blade. "I never thought that guy had a scholarship or something," he mused aloud.

    Henryk responded with a simple shrug. "His father did mention wanting him here."

    Jose''s skepticism lingered. "Still, remember when he used to crash in the garage? Hard to believe he got a ticket to this show."

    His gaze swept over the crowd, scanning faces of various origins and backgrounds. "Look at them," Jose remarked, and Henryk followed suit. "A medley of fronter folks, midworlders, and the odd industrial soul. It''s like we were just plucked from the void for this spectacle."

    And then, a collective gasp spread through the room, shattering the hum of conversation. All eyes converged upon one figure, Edward. His stance, like a coiled spring, hinted at something unspoken¡ªa silent defiance that seemed ready to erupt. His eyes, normally veiled, now burned with a mixture of fury and determination. His fists clenched, a reflexive response to a fight he hadn''t yet fought.

    As if locked in a trance, Edward stared ahead, his gaze piercing the light as if searching for answers in its brilliance. And then, in a moment that felt like an eternity, he closed his eyes, a gesture of surrender or maybe introspection.

    Meanwhile, Edward stood like a lone sentinel amidst the sea of high nobility. The disdain emanating from the core world elite was palpable, as if their gaze could scorch his very soul. The same girl who once coveted his attention now turned away, a subtle rejection that cut deeper than a blade.

    Jose''s voice wavered, betraying his own bewilderment. "He was a traitor all along?"

    Henryk''s gaze was locked on the transformation unfolding before him. Edward, once radiant with a carefree demeanor, stood alone now, his countenance darkened by the shadows of his past. Xarl''s smirk, a twisted reflection of amusement and derision, was like a spotlight trained on the scene.

    "So, the Sons of Mars endure, huh?" Xarl''s words pierced the air, laced with disbelief and a hint of cynical amusement. The weight of the revelation hung heavy in the room, an unspoken truth that had been cast into the light.

    Edward''s face shifted, the playful smile wiped away, replaced by a stern and serious expression. He was prepared, poised to face whatever scrutiny lay ahead. Xarl''s arms crossed behind his back, his gaze unwavering on the solitary figure before him¡ªa figure that had once represented the empire''s pride but now embodied its deepest shame.

    Once revered as the epitome of honor, now shamed as its greatest disgrace. A voice from the heights of the assembly cried out, branding Edward as a "mutant." Anger flashed across Edward''s features, a spark ready to ignite into a blazing fire. But before he could react, Xarl''s voice thundered, a command that cut through the room like a blade.

    "Silence!" The word echoed with an authority that quelled even the most defiant whisper. Xarl''s gaze shifted back to Edward, the tension thickening. "The Martians bear their burden of disgrace, yet the emperor has not stripped them of their fundamental rights."

    "He ought to have," a muttered voice carried on the currents of the crowd''s discontent.

    Xarl pivoted back to Edward, his gaze a piercing inquiry. "Tell me your name, boy."

    A steadying breath, a moment of defiance against the weight of scrutiny. "Edward the II of House Wolfsheim," came the response, delivered with a resolute tone that matched the gaze he fixed upon Xarl.

    A chuckle, devoid of genuine mirth, escaped Xarl''s lips. "Ah, House Wolfsheim. I''ve heard of you. You and your gene-brothers at the Battle of New Edis. I was present¡ªsaw your valor, your slaughter."

    Henryk''s eyes widened, caught in the revelation. "Gene-brothers?" he whispered, the term foreign and yet strangely familiar. His query remained unanswered, lost in the sea of the unfolding drama.

    Edward''s snort, a mix of defiance and disregard, was a testament to his resilience. Henryk observed as the crowd''s reactions rippled like water in response to the newfound knowledge. Scorn radiated from the high nobility, Jose''s eyes held disbelief, their earlier camaraderie shattered by this revelation.

    Yet, others regarded Edward with a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy, seeing in him a relic of bygone conflicts. A living testament to a turbulent past, marked by battles now forgotten. He stood as a lone warrior, a solitary link to a once-vibrant chain.

    Respect emanated from some quarters too, a recognition of his past and the role he played. Xarl''s grin widened, his eyes dancing from Edward to Henryk in a fleeting, cryptic exchange.

    Xarl''s hands came together, a resounding clap that redirected the room''s focus. "For those still in their seats, those who''ve yet to make their move," his voice carried the weight of a final decree. "Your first assignment awaits."

    The air crackled with anticipation as bright lights cascaded down from the lofty canopy. Henryk''s gaze stretched, following Xarl''s pointed finger, and a holographic ring of students'' faces materialized in the air like eerie apparitions. Xarl''s voice pierced the charged atmosphere, every word chiseled with gravity and challenge.

    "A week remains before the semester''s awakening, a mere seven days to secure a sponsor within the hallowed houses. Whether your skills pivot on intellect, luck, or mastery of a warcasket''s controls, you lowbirths must seek out a house''s embrace." The words thundered, echoing in Henryk''s ears, beads of sweat already dotting his brow as his gaze scanned the unfolding scene.

    Jose voiced the collective disbelief. "Is he sayin'' what I reckon he is?" Mag''s widened eyes mirrored the shock that ricocheted through the students, a gasp of disbelief and trepidation sweeping through them, catching Henryk in its grasp.

    Xarl pressed on, his words unwavering. "For those blessed with house sponsorship, your path is clear, leisure awaiting you till the semester''s dawn. But for those without..." Xarl''s gaze shifted, quelling the unrest within the lowbirths. "Exile is your fate."

    Laughter erupted from the houses, a cacophony that clashed with the lowbirths'' discontent and arguments. Henryk''s voice resounded, a clenched fist punctuating his outrage, a cry against the unfairness that cloaked this edict. He''d entered with a bang, an indelible impression, and doubt gnawed at him, wondering how this rigged game would play out.

    Amidst the turmoil, Edward remained a stone amidst the waves, arms folded, eyes distant, watching as lowbirths wrangled and bickered. A solitary figure cloaked in the boundary of his isolation. A pang of shame coursed through Henryk, inexplicably stirred by this sight, though he quickly brushed it aside.

    "Now then," Xarl''s voice cut through the din, drawing attention back to him. The crowd hushed, their collective breath held. "It''s time for the ritual."

    Xarl''s thumbs pointed upward, a signal to the canopy above. Like pilot lights ignited, flickers of flames danced and swirled, culminating in eruptions of brilliant fire. Students embraced by the houses shed their previous attire in a blaze of transformation. The flames painted them anew, reimagining their identity in the hues of their chosen house.

    Yet, all eyes gravitated to Edward, watching his metamorphosis. Henryk observed as Edward''s grimy, grease-stained uniform dissolved in radiant light, reborn as a crisp officer''s attire akin to the instructors'' and academy officers'' garb. The Knights of Mars, synonymous with authority, radiated strength in their new uniform¡ªa gleaming emerald, cuffs and collar adorned with gilded accents that pulsed with fiery intensity. Edward''s arms stretched out, his hair stirred by an unseen force, a gust of empowerment. A smirk played on his lips.

    As if drawn by the spectacle, the lowbirths'' laughter mingled with Edward''s unrestrained exultation, forging a connection, an alliance among those who stood on the fringe of nobility.

    "But let''s wrap this up. I reckon you are all starvin'' after that journey. The first task ahead will take time," Xarl''s steps carried him nearer to Edward, a pawn in the academy''s game. Others cast curious glances Edward''s way as Xarl''s fingers snapped, summoning another figure¡ªa fellow academy member, bearing a can of crimson paint. Xarl placed it ceremoniously before Edward, the gesture thick with intent.

    Amidst the charged atmosphere, Ed''s eyes locked onto the can as if it were a venomous serpent. A sense of impending doom seemed to coil around him, and his gaze flickered towards Xarl, whose demand hung heavy in the air. "Paint your right arm," the command cut through like a blade.

    A step backward, a twitch of muscles, and then Xarl punctured the can with a sharp kick, releasing a torrent of red liquid. It was red, but not the kind that inspired poetry. No, it was a crimson tainted by the hues of suffering, a color that evoked the brutality of spilled blood and the marks left behind.

    "The martians were censured," Xarl''s words lashed out, carrying the weight of condemnation. "To join House Mars, you must bear the mark of shame," he stated with a satisfaction that danced on the edge of sadism.

    Ed''s face contorted, an orchestra of emotions playing across his features. To Henryk, it was a symphony of anger, frustration, and a simmering rage that threatened to erupt like a volcano. The turmoil within Ed was palpable, a stormy sea churning beneath a fa?ade of bravado.

    Xarl''s smile, the constant thread in this bizarre tapestry, remained unbroken. He wore that smile like armor, unyielding to the tumultuous emotions around him. Even the assembly seemed to share a collective consciousness, delighting in the spectacle before them. Their expressions ranged from disgust to smugness, and all eyes converged on Edward, the last Martian, tainted by the brush of shame.

    Once revered as the empire''s valiant champions, now cast aside as pariahs, branded by their own past. Henryk watched Ed''s internal struggle play out like a drama, his clenched fists betraying his inner turmoil. The blood of his own body mingled with the paint, the physical manifestation of the stain that now marked him.

    In the midst of this silent struggle, Ed''s gaze flicked downward, as if the paint can held the answer to his dilemma. The weight of his decision bore down on him, the pressure of a choice that held far more significance than the painted symbol on his arm. The tension in the room was palpable, a collective breath held in anticipation.

    A deep exhalation, a sigh that carried the weight of a thousand burdens, escaped Ed''s lips. It echoed like a forlorn trumpet, a sound of surrender. His shoulders slumped, the defiance slowly draining away. His gaze lingered on the can of paint, a symbol of his concession to a fate he didn''t ask for, a role he didn''t choose.

    "Okay," the word hung in the air, a resignation that signaled the end of a silent battle. The paint was claimed, the deed was done, and the mark of House Mars was borne on his right arm, a mark both literal and metaphorical, branding him as both a member and an outcast.

 Chapter 6 - Henryk and Tyson, Two Rejects.

    The campus pulsated with life. The arrival of the new year was a time of joy and expectation for many. During the warmer months on Earth''s calendar, some students would journey back to their homeworlds. However, some chose to stay, either by choice or necessity.

    Henryk perched on the stone rim of a fountain, eyes half-lidded as he wrestled with the exhaustion that clung to him like a shadow. He attempted to rub away the fatigue but found it to be more stubborn than he''d anticipated.

    He looked around, the people chattering and milling about, and he couldn''t help but feel a bit disheveled. He hadn''t had a chance to bathe after the meeting, and the public showers weren''t an appealing option.

    There was no communal dormitory on campus, and while that didn''t sound like a problem initially, the restriction was clear: if you weren''t a member of a house, you couldn''t enter. He lifted his arm, caught a whiff, and grimaced as he ran his hand across his face. He sneaked his fingers into the water and splashed it over his armpits. He was essentially bathing like a homeless person.

    As he looked at the people around him, he realized that it was the second and older years who were engaged in conversation, reuniting with friends and acquaintances they hadn''t seen for a while.

    However, there was an undercurrent of tension, and something didn''t sit right with him. People seemed to be sticking to their groups, and those groups were divided by colors. It wasn''t about the elegance of the attire but seemed more about loyalty. He felt like an outcast, standing there with his unaffiliated grey attire, a color that didn''t seem to fit in anywhere.

    Scornful glances and glares were exchanged among these divided groups, and the atmosphere grew more charged. Henryk couldn''t help but wonder, "What kind of school is this?"

    His thoughts returned to the earlier tension between Logan and Piper. He found himself thinking of Ed, the way he had walked proudly, the insignia of his house displayed boldly. Despite the insults and animosity thrown at him, Ed remained steadfast and self-assured.

    Henryk stood up, pushing the stray locks of hair from his face. Ed was an enigma, a reliable companion who had helped him when he needed it most. He barely knew the guy, yet he played a crucial role in Sirine''s rescue.

    But how could a hero come from a world that had betrayed the imperial family? The question hung in the air, haunting his thoughts.

    Henryk paused, the weariness of it all pressing heavily upon his shoulders. Did it even matter? He barely knew Ed, and the accusations ricocheting around his head felt robotic, regurgitated from Jose and amplified by the reactions of others.

    "Core world problems," he muttered, shaking his head, and he made his way toward one of the campus''s dining halls. The place was strange, no doubt, but it beat the old town of his colony by miles.

    As he traversed the campus, taking in the early morning sun rising upon the crescent, he couldn''t help but feel a sense of excitement. Everyone he saw was new, every face unknown. Despite the strangeness, it was a chance for a fresh start, a new experience to grow. A bizarre sort of thrill coursed through him.

    Entering the main dining hall, he found himself amidst a sea of new students, all dressed in the distinct colors of their houses. He felt a little out of place in his drab, unaffiliated uniform, but it was a minor detail. He loaded his tray with food and sought out a table.

    Jose and Mag''s waved him over, and he took a seat across from them. "Hello, Henryk," Mag''s greeted him with a soft voice, nearly a whisper.

    Henryk nodded, acknowledging their presence. He began to eat the unseasoned eggs and dry biscuits on his tray, oblivious to the watchful eyes of his two companions.

    "You know there are forks and knives, right?" Jose pointed out.

    Henryk looked up, noticing the cutlery at last. "It''s just eggs and bread," he replied.

    Mag''s lightly smacked the back of his arm, causing Jose to wince. "Leave him alone," she defended him. "Let Henryk do his own thing."

    Jose chuckled. "I''m just trying to teach him how to eat like a civilized man."

    Mag''s rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. You always think you have the right to tell people how to act."

    Jose raised his hands in surrender, offering a sarcastic apology. Henryk rolled his eyes and continued eating.

    Mag''s appeared to be the quiet, sweet one, while Jose had a slimy, overbearing air about him. Henryk doubted that Jose would do anything drastic, but there were more important matters to address.

    Henryk inquired, "Are you guys planning to visit any of the houses today?"

    There was a brief silence among the three of them, and Henryk''s gaze wandered to the students around them. Practically his entire year group was now donning the grey of houselessness. What would they do next?

    They stood on the precipice of expulsion, their destiny hanging by a thread. In a matter of days, they had to secure a house or face the merciless expulsion from the school. For the eclectic mix of students who had ventured here, survival meant adapting, joining a house, and whatever it took to remain within these hallowed halls.

    Jose nonchalantly shrugged, his noncommittal demeanor on full display. "I''m planning to explore the area today," he declared.

    "Really, Jose?" Mag''s retorted with a hint of exasperation. "By the end of the week, you need to have a house willing to sponsor you. You can''t afford to dawdle."

    "For God''s sake, Mag''s," Jose muttered under his breath, momentarily resentful, but he quickly regrouped with a resigned sigh. "I know, but I don''t want the houses I''m interviewing with to think I''m too desperate."

    Mag''s rolled her eyes yet again and refocused her attention on Henryk. What started as a simple breakfast had taken a turn for the interrogative, casting a shadow over Henryk''s mood. He particularly disliked the way Mag''s scrutinized him.

    "What''s your plan for the day, Henryk?" Mag''s inquired.

    Henryk set down his fork for a moment and met their gazes. "I''m heading over to House Neptune," he revealed.

    "House Neptune?" Jose echoed, skepticism oozing from his voice. "You think you''re cut out for that?"

    "What...?" Henryk mumbled, fixing a challenging stare on Jose. "What''s that supposed to mean?"

    Jose tried to backtrack, but Mag''s was quicker to intervene. "He''s just saying, Henryk, that guys like us from the frontier don''t typically make it into the big-name houses."

    "But isn''t that the very reason we''re here?" Henryk responded, a smile of determination spreading across his face. "To earn honor and glory, to bring pride to our families and hometowns. Don''t you both aspire to the same?"

    Their eyes widened briefly before narrowing in contemplative silence.

    "You''ve got quite a bit to say about honor, Henryk," Jose noted.

    Henryk merely shrugged and resumed eating, addressing them with a mouth full of food. "Honor is everything," he said between bites. He swallowed, and with a more contemplative look, continued, "It''s our reputation and the traces we leave behind in the sands of time. It''s the only proof that we ever existed."

    An awkward silence descended upon the trio, punctuated by the surprising introspection in Henryk''s words.

    "Then you''re a better man than both of us," Mag''s chimed in with a surprised chuckle. "I mean it."

    Jose hastily interjected, "Hey," but Mag''s dismissed his protest with a wave, turning back to Henryk.

    "We left home to provide for our families, to bring money back to our colony. Sure, our colony will benefit, but you''re here to make your hometown proud. That''s a noble goal."

    Henryk paused, his gaze drifting from his tray to those around him.

    "Noble?" Jose queried, turning toward Henryk. "Is that truly what you want, Henryk?"

    Henryk faced Jose, lips poised to answer, but his words remained unspoken. He wore his thoughts on his sleeves, leaving Jose to interpret the silence.

    Wrapped in self-contemplation, Jose gathered his arms around himself, his voice bearing the weight of unspoken questions. "What are you fighting for, Henryk?"

    Rolling his eyes, Henryk muttered, "I''ve already told you that..."

    "I don''t believe that," Jose cut him off, leaning closer. An uncomfortable hush settled in their midst, and even Margoret''s wide-eyed curiosity couldn''t breach the eerie stillness. "That whole honor mumbo jumbo might be what you said, but I don''t buy it."

    "Excuse me?" Henryk blinked, bemusement eclipsing his initial confusion. But soon, Jose''s words bore meaning.

    "Don''t get me wrong," Jose began, shaking his head and clutching his arms, "You seem like a good guy, but I don''t believe that people can be so selfless. I''m not saying you don''t care about your family or your town, but are you really telling me, Henryk, that you''re only here for that? What about yourself?"

    With a shrug, Henryk let out a groan. "Well, my town thrives, and so do I. Of course, I want to provide for my family and give them the life they deserve. What''s your problem with that, Jose?"

    Sighing, Jose elaborated, "I''m just saying, you don''t come off like that kind of person."

    Rolling his eyes, Henryk abandoned the conversation, rising from his seat. Casting a brief glance at Margoret and Jose, he announced, "I''ve got to start my house interviews. I''ll catch you guys at lunch or dinner."

    "Assuming we''re even accepted into any," Jose added, though by that time, Henryk had already begun his departure.

    Margoret''s hand smacked Jose''s shoulder, causing him to wince. "What was that for?" he protested.

    Mag''s sighed, her gaze fixed on Henryk''s retreating form. "I don''t understand why you had to provoke him," she said.

    Jose shook his head. "I didn''t mean to provoke him, Mag''s. Besides, he''s the guy who worked with those two champions. I''ve heard stories about how they saved the lord''s daughter."

    "Exactly," Mag''s responded. "I appreciate Henryk for saving me from that stampede, but we should tread carefully in our interactions with him."

    As she spoke, Jose watched her closely, his fingers interlaced and his gaze discerning. Mag''s caught his look, and with a heavy sigh, she divulged, "There are rumors about Henryk. Some houses say he''s a bad omen."

    Those words elicited a hearty chuckle from Jose. "Bad omen?" he repeated, his laughter now infused with amusement. Mag''s exasperation only deepened his amusement. "What are we, a bunch of superstitious tribesmen? Omens, seriously?"

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The words, stripped of their vigor, barely resonated, but Mag''s stoked the embers, her voice weaving a web of intrigue.

    She shook her head, imparting a sense of gravity to her words. "I''ve overheard a few of the first-years talkin'', and they''re sayin'' this year is gonna be a tough one. There are houses wieldin'' way too much power, overshadowin'' the rest."

    Jose offered a nod in concordance. "Well, then, we''ve got to find the top dogs of this school."

    Mag''s exhaled, the sound filled with weariness, and Jose swung his attention back to her. "You really think it''s that simple?" She scoffed, her eyes rolling with doubt. "Jose, you ain''t thinkin''. You honestly believe those house presidents are gonna make it that plain as day for us?"

    "So what''s your take, then?" Jose countered, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, but Mag''s, undeterred, met his gaze.

    "I''ve spoken to some folks who entered this place on scholarships," she began. "The ones who made it in, they all warn to be cautious, not to ask too many questions."

    "Huh?" Jose''s brow furrowed.

    Mag''s nodded, her voice low and cautious. "This academy ain''t your regular school. I''ve been delvin'' into its history, and I''ve never found a trace of this expulsion threat for folks who don''t pick a house. And remember that fight between House Neptune and House Mercury when we got here?"

    Jose''s eyes widened, recalling the scene. "Yeah, I remember," he replied, the memory''s vividness returning, along with the intrigue surrounding it. In the car with Mag''s and other students from across the galaxy, they had witnessed the academy''s mech pilots duking it out. But as their knowledge of the academy deepened, so did the revelation of the complex political machinations they had unwittingly become embroiled in.

    "It seems like we ain''t alignin'' with Mercury," Jose muttered.

    Mag''s breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the heavens for that," she said, punctuating her words with a dry chuckle. "Word is, Mercury''s got the biggest roster in the school, or that''s what most folks seem to believe."

    "Huh?" Jose inquired, his confusion unabated. "How does that relate to¡­"

    Mag''s cut him off. "I heard that if you join up with Mercury, they''ll let you stay at the academy, but you essentially become their servant."

    "A servant?" Jose repeated, incredulous. "That''s¡­"

    "I guess for many, they''d rather take the abuse than get shipped back home. Everyone''s got family and where they come from, and they''re real worried about lettin'' ''em down."

    "True," Jose said, giving Mag''s a friendly pat on the back, snapping her out of her contemplation. She turned toward him, and he wore a sly grin, causing her cheeks to redden. Yet, she managed to conceal her blush. "Thanks, Mag''s. It''s good to know we''ve got a backup plan if things get real desperate."

    Mag''s sighed as they both rose from their seats, ready to tidy up. "But still," Jose murmured, his voice laden with disbelief, "I can''t fathom it''s really that bad."

    Mag''s nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I get it, but I''d rather have you in the loop."

    "Appreciate that," Jose added, and together, they began their stroll.

    Unbeknownst to them, Henryk was on his way to House Neptune. His boots clapped against the freshly paved campus street as he traversed among fellow students. On occasion, folks approached him with high-fives and fist bumps, a recognition he couldn''t deny brought a warmth to his chest. Yet, something tugged at his soul, a hidden facet he hadn''t ventured into. The ideas of honor and pride intertwined within his ego, but he resisted the allure of false strength. Or was it?

    Henryk sighed, the weight of his thoughts trailing him as he walked. Minutes later, he reached the dormitory of House Neptune, and it was an impressive sight.

    The building, a five-story structure, resembled two L''s fused together, adorned with rows of windows on each floor. Lights and shadows danced across the rooms. The house members tended to the gardens, painting the scenery in various shades of blue, from the flowers to the walls.

    The wind tousled his unruly hair as he approached the entrance and¡ª

    "Stay in line! Keep it straight!" a house member barked.

    Groaning, Henryk dropped his hands to his face, regarding the lengthy queue that snaked out the door. Innworlders mingled with the sons and daughters of intergalactic nobles, all equally bored as they endured the wait. Henryk joined the back of the line, his fellow aspirants eyeing one another with intense curiosity. Human and imperial species mixed, and mutants even applied here. The term "mutant" resonated in his mind, a deep secret he''d easily let go when the girl needed his help. He berated himself for his foolishness.

    Time dragged on, possibly thirty minutes to an hour. Henryk observed and absorbed the strange customs of the school. Some interviews concluded swiftly, applicants darting out either in tears or shambles. Others endured hours of grueling interviews, exiting with stony expressions.

    This school bewildered him, its complexity and opacity unraveling before his eyes.

    Then, something furry bumped into the back of his uniform. He sighed, his patience waning. The Henryk of the past might have lunged at someone from his colony for such an intrusion, but¡ª

    It happened again, and this time he spun around. What he saw sent his eyes into saucer-like astonishment.

    Homo Terresterial...

    They called them the Homo Terrestrials, a name that labeled the bold souls who ventured among the stars. However, as one delved deeper into the core, the terraforming process took on an increasingly bizarre and alien flavor. With each stride humanity made into the uncharted reaches of the cosmos, they discovered worlds that defied every established notion of what a colonizable planet should be.

    Henryk hailed from the deepest frontier, a place where, when the extraterrestrials came, they left not only their colonies but also the enigmatic remnants of their presence, a legacy wrapped in riddles and enigma. These worlds, cloaked in the allure of strangeness, held within them profound mysteries and unsettling questions.

    There, the mark of the alien etched itself upon the fabric of humanity, leading to transformations, mutations, and the erasure of threads that once defined what it meant to be human.

    Henryk spun around, a peculiar sensation tugging at his senses. He found himself face to face with a student, tall and imposing, a figure whose uniform drew his initial attention. Yet, it was the eyes that arrested him. Brown eyes, brimming with humanity, but there was something more, something different. They held a gaze that expanded beyond the borders of their features.

    Henryk''s eyes widened, then narrowed as he locked onto the figure. "Stop bumping into me," he declared, punctuating his words with a pointed finger pressed against the broad chest of the imposing young man. "Or you''ll live to regret it."

    This towering fellow exceeded Henryk''s own height, a substantial six feet, but he stretched closer to six-foot-four or five. Muscle rippled across his youthful frame, a sight to behold even for someone his age. Henryk attempted to divert his focus from the less human attributes of his companion.

    He concentrated on the human features¡ªthe brown eyes, the recognizably human layout of his face. In another life, under different circumstances, he might have appeared handsome. Without the mutations, perhaps he would have inspired awe or respect for his size and strength. Yet, the reality offered snickers and insults.

    "I apologize," the young man said with formality, his tone carved into the contours of politeness. The voice emanating from his larger-than-life frame was smaller, softer, more akin to the gentle narrators in school audio books.

    A fleeting thought of Ed flitted through Henryk''s mind. Ed, who''d been the way he was with Henryk and Jose, who could be brusque at times. It was the only way he knew how to be. His mother had always called him a solitary spirit.

    It had been an accident. An apology had been offered. So, with a sigh, Henryk nodded and turned back around, refocusing on the queue.

    Then, it happened again. He pivoted, prepared for another confrontation. However, it was not at him that the strange young man stared but at the person who had been pushing him.

    "Save my place," Henryk instructed.

    "Um, sure," stammered the young man, momentarily taken aback. "But what are you going to..."

    Henryk had distanced himself from the line, but his steps led him to the pair, or rather, the duo of trouble. Both of them were smaller in stature compared to the young men, but having brushed shoulders with the harsh winds of frontier racism, Henryk could easily envision the nature of this confrontation.

    As the young man watched Henryk melt into the bustling crowd, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. He wondered whether Henryk had left the line to use the bathroom or grab a snack. It had been a rough first day, narrowly escaping a physical altercation, and now these two newcomers were already giving him a hard time.

    "Mutant, move up," barked the shorter of the two, the malicious mirth lacing his words apparent.

    The young man refrained from turning but instead offered a retort. "Firstly, my name isn''t ''mutant,'' it''s Tyson." He twirled around briefly, revealing his rows of fangs that had replaced conventional human teeth. "Secondly, that guy wanted me to save his spot."

    A hush lingered for a moment, then snickers crept in, followed by hearty laughter. "Move up," they chorused, urging him forward, but Tyson''s legs remained unyielding.

    "Move up," they repeated like a mocking incantation. Fists began to pummel him lightly at first, escalating in intensity as he stood resolute.

    "I told you," Tyson lectured, exasperation lacing his words. "The guy who just left asked me to save his spot, and I''m not going to give it up."

    "To hell with that guy," the taller one spat.

    The shorter one nodded vehemently, his mop of black hair resembling a bowl cut bobbing with his enthusiasm. "Yeah, screw that guy," he chimed in.

    Tyson endured the rain of light punches, mostly just an annoyance that would probably leave him bruised later. He''d suffered worse. He was grateful that the person in front of him hadn''t swung around and¡ª

    Just as laughter filled the air amid the flurry of punches, Tyson caught sight of Henryk, and his heart raced.

    Henryk approached with measured steps, each footfall resonating on the stone beneath. Ty observed how Henryk''s fingers curled into clenched fists, his eyes locked onto the confrontation before him.

    "Abomination, what are you even doing here?" taunted the shorter one, contempt and arrogance lacing his words. "This is one of the galaxy''s greatest and most prestigious schools. What is a genetic anomaly like you doing here?"

    Henryk had drawn closer, his hand swinging towards the shorter boy''s shoulder. Ty turned his head slightly to gaze at Henryk. The short student stared, baffled, about to utter a response¡ª

    But then teeth, blood, and saliva exploded into the air as Henryk''s fist struck. The short boy''s body crumbled, flopping over himself like a lifeless sack of potatoes. Silence descended in the aftermath of the shocking punch, and for a moment, nothing was said.

    The other fist came, and Henryk''s head snapped back, his body stumbling but soon finding its footing. A bloodied grin crept across his features, and those who bore witness to the wild fight remained frozen, the students and agents of Neptune included, their reactions sluggish in the face of this unforeseen brawl.

    Both the tall boy and Henryk drew heavy breaths, their fists clenched as the darkness of violence engulfed Henryk''s mind. He had tasted blood, and unknowingly, something deep within him awakened. A fleeting, savage smirk etched itself onto his features. With a sudden swift maneuver, he ducked and darted away.

    The taller boy lunged with a side punch, but Henryk nimbly evaded the attack, his body shifting like a seasoned brawler. He coiled himself around the taller boy, grasping his long mane of black hair, and forcefully pulled them both to the ground.

    "What the fu¡ª" the taller boy managed to sputter, but his words were cut short as Henryk''s fist collided with his bespectacled face, shattering the glasses upon impact. Henryk secured his legs around his opponent, delivering a barrage of powerful blows.

    The taller boy attempted to shield his face with his arms, and Henryk relentlessly assaulted him. He drove his knee into the man''s midsection, causing bile to rise and drench his collar. The frenzied fight carried on, but Henryk was now disturbingly composed in his savagery.

    "Enough, Henryk!"

    The voice of Logan pierced through the violent haze, but it wasn''t the garbled transmission of a ''WarCasket'' Radio; it was real, tangible. Henryk froze, his grip still locked around the bloodied and bile-covered collar. He was aware now that they all stared at him, the onlookers having retreated to form a protective circle around the skirmish.

    The shorter boy lay there, dazed and unmoving, while members of Neptune rushed to check on him. Henryk retreated, releasing the taller boy who fell to the ground with a thud, his chest rising and falling.

    "What the hell is wrong with you?"

    Another voice entered the fray. A figure with wild orange hair and a freckled face confronted Henryk, his clenched fists testifying to his anger as he towered over the shorter boy.

    Henryk took a step forward, his fingers coiling into fists. His eyes darted around, and the atmosphere felt fraught with tension. His teeth clenched tight as he spoke through them.

    "Should''ve not tested me," his words were chilling and purposeful, laced with a declaration of force and violence, because to him, it was the only way to make things right.

    "You¡ª" the imposing young man advanced, but someone stepped in to intervene.

    Logan strode into the scene, his attire starkly contrasting the chaos around him, clad in a heavy blue sweater and a well-fitted pair of black jeans. A recent haircut had reduced his blond locks, and he wore that distinctive smirk that was uniquely his.

    "Franklin, I''ve got this," Logan asserted.

    Franklin halted, his gaze tracing the aftermath of the altercation. Members of House Neptune had hurriedly wheeled the shorter boy inside, while the taller one was receiving splashes of water to rouse him. Franklin''s teeth clenched, and he turned to face Logan. "This, he just assaulted two of our guys," Franklin stated, but as he attempted to spot Henryk, Logan moved to block their view.

    Logan shook his head. "Two of our guys?" he repeated with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around himself. He surveyed the line, his laughter echoing through the crowd. The bystanders couldn''t help but feel that piercing gaze on them.

    "You think this common lot of fools and whores is worthy of bearing the blue of Neptune?"

    A silence fell, and for a brief moment, even the members of Neptune paused. Then, they resumed attending to the injured men. The line, however, remained fixed, caught between shock, repulsion, and a burgeoning frustration. Some recoiled, others heard the words but chose to stay put.

    Henryk''s gaze bore into them, his eyes narrowing. He had the impulse to yell "Cowards!" at the lot of them. First, they stood idly by as Tyson was targeted due to his racial background, and now, they sought to prioritize their own self-interest. Their arrogance and...

    Henryk was about to turn away, but then he felt an arm encircle his throat. Not in a hostile manner, but like a friend hugging him close. Logan wore that smirk again, spinning Henryk around to redirect the crowd''s attention away from the line and towards them.

    "Henryk, he''s the only one here worthy of bearing the blue," Logan declared.

    Henryk froze for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. It was over; he had feared what might happen, but now it was all working out. On his very first day, he would wear the blue of Neptune, leading his family and home to glory.

    "Come on, Henryk," Logan beckoned. "Let me show you around."

    Henryk followed him, and a smile graced his features as he observed his surroundings while being led through the elegant glass doors of House Neptune. The House looked regal and inviting. Yet, in its reflection, he saw Tyson.

    Unlike the envious glances from the others, Tyson was smiling at him. The feelings emanating from him were not those of jealousy; rather, he seemed genuinely happy for Henryk. It was as if he felt a sense of pride, knowing that Henryk was worthy of acceptance. In that moment, a kinship formed between the two mutants.

 Chapter 7 - Monster

    The factory lay frozen and desolate, its steel door shivering under the assault of rampaging winds. Inside, a diverse assembly of individuals from various classes, houses, and allegiances stood waiting in silence. Uncertainty loomed like a heavy fog in the room, and the question on everyone''s mind was: What would happen next?

    Henryk, breathing heavily, surveyed the expectant crowd. Their weapons remained clutched close to their chests, and their eyes, filled with tension, bore into their respective house leaders, eagerly awaiting commands.

    Henryk''s lone indigo eye swept across the room as he felt the throbbing reminders of wounds and bruises etched upon his body. With a grunt, he slammed his plasma pistol back into its holster and directed his gaze toward the writhing form of Fleeboy.

    A crimson river flowed from the stump of Fleeboy''s severed limb. Henryk''s eyes widened as he observed the scabs forming along the burnt skin, a peculiar healing process. He backed away, and the others from House Mars watched in morbid fascination. The blood gradually ceased to flow, sealing the wound with a purplish-blackish goo.

    The onlookers had witnessed the inexplicable, their eyes reflecting a mix of shock and curiosity. Henryk, however, was the one to break the silence. As Fleeboy clutched the gladius in his left hand, Henryk unclipped his helmet, attached it to his belt, and turned his attention to the writhing ''True Son.''

    With a heavy breath, he raised his left finger and pointed the blade at Fleeboy. "What are you?" he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. August, with his sharklike eyes, met Henryk''s piercing indigo gaze but remained silent.

    An eerie silence enveloped them all. Henryk''s features tightened as he drew the blade closer, eventually resting it against August''s chin and drawing a drop of blood. "Speak. What are you?" he growled, his gaze shifting to the self-healed wound.

    "Mutation," Arthur interjected as he advanced, leveling his weapon at Fleeboy''s form. "The mutation within his spikes is too evident. To preserve the honor of ''The True Sons,'' I say he dies."

    "We''re taking a vote now?" Edward queried as he approached their group.

    Arthur maintained his unwavering focus on August but slowly nodded in response. Ed sighed, and Arthur shot him a smirk. "You''re allowing this?" Arthur expressed his surprise.

    "You brought it up," Edward replied calmly.

    "Indeed," Arthur scratched his head, his uncertainty evident. "...but are we making this decision on our own? Just the druid, me, and you? Normally, declaring a Victius involves the entire house."

    Edward nodded thoughtfully. "You bring up a valid point. An event of this magnitude should be brought before the other members of the house. The purge of an entire bloodline, especially one as esteemed as the ''True Sons,'' demands a collective decision."

    "So, you suggest we tie him up and drag him through this forsaken wasteland?" Arthur turned to gaze at the writhing figure of Fleeboy. "We''re on the brink of a mutiny, and time''s not on our side."

    "August," Henryk called out once more.

    Edward sighed, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "This is getting us nowhere. The mutation in his spikes must be so severe that it''s affecting not only his spine but also his brain."

    Arthur shrugged and turned to Edward. "I have an idea."

    "What is it?" Edward inquired.

    Arthur pointed at Henryk''s outstretched sword. Edward raised an eyebrow. "We''ll harvest his spikes after we dispose of him. Then, we''ll test these spikes for mutations," he explained. Edward glanced momentarily at August but quickly averted his gaze from the boy''s sight. "If they turn out clean, or if we can remove the mutations, we''ll keep them. But when we''re back at ''House Mars,'' we''ll put it to a vote."

    "Bastard!" Fleeboy''s voice filled the room, his dark shark-like eyes filled with loathsome hatred as he pointed a shaky, bloody finger toward Edward. "You know that this goes against the rules and rites of Mars. A Victius can only be declared when the other Knight Houses are present."

    "We no longer have that luxury," Edward snapped.

    "August," Henryk called out with a hint of warmth in his voice, though the two-handed grip on his sword aimed at the boy''s neck contradicted that warmth.

    "You can''t reason with the brute," Arthur sneered.

    Henryk shook his head. "No, I saw something during our fight, or rather, I felt something," he said, pausing and turning back to his companions. "You saw it too, you had to. Remember the duel, the bizarre nature of it? Fleeboy''s vocal cords stretched, and he unleashed a primal scream. There was something when he was launched, the way his limbs contorted and he was flung back during the fight."

    Arthur groaned. "You''re new, druid," he said, shaking his head. "You don''t know the tales and legends surrounding the true capabilities of those spikes. Fleeboy''s spikes have mutated, and he''s given us the final reason, on top of a mountain of reasons, to put an end to this."

    Arthur scorned at the writhing form, clicking his lips and shaking his head. ¡°Our only regret should be how long it took for us to get this done.¡±

    ¡°New?¡± scoffed Henryk, his tone sharp without needing to face Arthur. ¡°I''ve been a halfbreed for two years. We''ve fought together, studied together, honed our skills together. Don''t lecture me on the rites of Mars. This is my duty as a druid.¡±

    ¡°That''s enough, Arthur,¡± interrupted Edward, glancing once more at Fleeboy. ¡°Enough,¡± he repeated, his words weary.

    For a beat, there was nothing, until Henryk''s widened eyes scanned House Neptune, his sword still held tightly. ¡°Melissa,¡± he said, eyes wide. ¡°Where is she?¡±

    Edward shrugged, his eyes widening as he scanned the crowd. Melissa was nowhere to be seen, his gaze scanning through the groups of houses seeking shelter.

    ¡°Stella, where is Melissa?¡± Edward asked, looking to the proud president of House Neptune.

    She sneered, and a moment later, Melissa emerged from the crowd, her hands bloodied and her expression distressed. She quickly rejoined them, standing by Fleeboy for a moment, her medical bag gripped tightly, before taking three steps away from the injured boy.

    ¡°Henryk, do it,¡± snapped Edward, but Henryk didn¡¯t move. Sweat beaded on his brow as he stared into Fleeboy''s dark eyes.

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Edward called, softer this time. ¡°He¡¯s out of control. You want to rein him in. I''ve known how you and the others have felt about Fleeboy for a long time. Don''t you want him dead?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Henryk snapped back at Edward. ¡°¡­but there¡¯s something so strange about him that I never expected. There''s this black smoke around him, and I can feel its malevolence¡­¡±

    Henryk paused, lips pursed, his eyes returning to Fleeboy. ¡°What are you going on about, Henryk?¡± questioned Arthur. ¡°Kill him,¡± he paused, positioning the massive calibre in front of him, the barrel aimed at Fleeboy. ¡°Or I will,¡± he said, chilling coolness in his voice.

    ¡°Why are you hesitating?¡± Edward asked. ¡°Hesitation is unlike you, Henryk.¡±

    ¡°Hesitation. I heard August scream from within him,¡± snarled Henryk, gripping the blade with both hands, raising it behind himself.

    ¡°What are you lot talking about!¡± Zephyr screamed.

    The man turned to face them, much like the others, uttering words of power, but to Henryk and his friends, the mystical incantations made no sense. Hidden within their chants lay cryptic secrets, shrouded in obscure legends. The trio understood that these enigmatic words would remain unfathomed.

    They chose to ignore him.

    Henryk, however, had no intention of turning a blind eye. He scoffed, his voice laden with anger. "I don''t know what you are¡ªsome alien fungus infecting my friend''s brain or something else entirely¡ªbut I''ll hack off your limbs until you release August!" His words reverberated through the chamber.

    "Whoa, Henryk!" Edward intervened, appearing right in front of his enraged friend.

    "What are you doing? Move!" Henryk''s voice roared with wild intensity, his eyes ablaze.

    Edward raised both his hands and shot a sidelong glance, not just at August, but also at the other houses. Weapons were still brandished, and the atmosphere remained tense. Now, they had an injured comrade, and one of their own had harmed the pride and joy of House Neptune.

    Stella, on the brink of tears, watched the scene unfold, and Arthur turned his attention to Melissa. "How is he?" he inquired, his gaze darting between Ed and Henryk, who continued to argue.

    Melissa sighed, her annoyance palpable. "How do you think?" She retorted, disbelief underpinning her words. "Fleeboy''s axe nearly ripped him in half. It''s a miracle his organs or stomach lining weren''t torn apart."

    "Is he¡­" Arthur began to ask, but Melissa nodded slowly and sighed.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Awkwardness pervaded her as she felt the collective eyes of onlookers upon them. House Mars was known for its flair for the dramatic, and she shot a brief glance at their quirky president.

    Clasping her arms around herself, she continued, "I did the best I could, Henryk did the best he could, and the rest is up to Neptune and their wizards and healers."

    Arthur''s chest constricted as he gazed at the sea of people from Neptune surrounding Logan as their medics worked on him. It didn''t sit well with him that his house was responsible for this. What was meant to be a cooperative mission had turned into a disaster. Fleeboy, in his madness, had nearly killed Logan, the pride and hope of Neptune. Mars would undoubtedly face the consequences.

    He couldn''t help but reflect on the possible solutions, his mind drifting briefly to Clive. How many problems might have been averted if their enemies had been eliminated earlier?

    His gaze settled on a girl within the crowd, and he narrowed his eyes, directing his attention towards her. "Girl!" he bellowed, every eye turning toward him. The young girl, clad in a ragged dress, crouched among the members of House Neptune, her eyes filling with fear at the sound of his voice.

    "Damn brutes," another girl muttered, taking the hand of a companion. A tangle of blond hair framed striking blue eyes as she cast her gaze their way.

    "Hello, Callie," Arthur scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain.

    "Hello, Arthur," Callie retorted, her grip on the girl tightening. "You boys of House Mars have done enough. Deal with your own issues and stop getting the houses muddled within it."

    Arthur sneered. "You think we''re the ones getting involved in everyone''s business?" His gaze turned icy and penetrating, like a laser scanning the room.

    "We''re the ones that started playing politics?" he continued with a deranged laugh. "Are you that much of a fool?"

    "Who else can it be?" Callie retorted with frustration.

    Arthur shrugged. "We all play politics to survive, girl," he hissed the last word, infused with venom. His voice grew harsher, his gaze steeled, as he surveyed the room.

    "Some more than others," he added, glancing around the room at their allies and adversaries, the sons and daughters of the rich and poor. They were weaponizing the situation. Arthur had to remember that House Mars had the fewest members, and they would try to weaponize this conflict to turn the others against them.

    His fingers curled into fists. "Do you realize that girl was amongst the bandits?" he challenged.

    Callie looked down at the girl, stunned. "Look at you, making friends with the enemy!" Arthur exclaimed with an unrestrained laugh. "You dogs of Neptune, you always make the poorest decisions."

    "You speak!" A fiery-haired boy emerged from the crowd, unruly brown hair framing his defiant eyes. Franklin, his lips parting as he aimed his rifle at Arthur. "You watch your tongue, or I..."

    "You watch your tongue," Melissa snapped, silencing the room with her command. Her hand hovered at her side, concealed pistol ready.

    Melissa''s gaze turned toward the members of House Neptune. "You speak to the Knights of Mars, the proud sons of the red sands. Do not hurl lies upon them."

    "A bunch of disgracers, a bunch of traitors!" Franklin snarled back. "You damn lot have been causing trouble at the academy for nearly two years at this point. How many damn duels and battles have started because of you lot!"

    "...and how many duels were issued against them on their own accord?" Zephyr countered, his voice cutting through the tense air.

    "Shut up," Edward''s voice reverberated through the room, and Zephyr and the others turned to him. His hands were at his sides now, his loathsome gaze fixed on Franklin.

    Edward unsheathed his sword, and a few members of House Mercury followed suit to protect their president. But Zephyr remained still, silent, taking it all in.

    "You shut your damn mouth," Edward spat, his narrowed eyes dripping with venom. "Don''t you dare rush to my defense to play the friend after what you did to Natalie. I should gut you like the damn lying pig you are!"

    "Enough of this!" Arthur screamed, leveling his massive caliber in his grip. The crowd took a few steps back to distance themselves from the confrontation. "Enough talk. Do you want to resolve this with words or lead and steel?"

    Melissa''s eyes widened, and she whispered, "You''re really going to do this now?"

    "We don''t seem to have a choice," Arthur replied.

    Franklin scoffed and raised a pointed finger. "I''m a senior, and I was at this academy as a sophomore before you all showed up. House Mars was already a mess before my time, but I never expected it to be a broken world, a house in ruins. I never expected that some would betray their own planet loyalties to become a Martian!"

    He pointed at Melissa, and for a moment, she hung her head in shame. "You damn dogs have brought so much trouble."

    Arthur chuckled and laughed at Franklin. Franklin took a step forward, but before anything could escalate, another voice cut through the tension. It was Bracken, the president of House Pluto, his power armor adorned with the deep orange pulsing lights.

    "Are you really going to blame House Mars for everything that''s happened in these two years?" Bracken stepped forward, his warrior ace Tobias holding an empty laser blade hilt at his side.

    Franklin winced, and Bracken scoffed at his reaction. "You talk about betraying your planet loyalties, but both you and Henryk hail from the frontier, don''t you?"

    Franklin shook his head. "I aligned myself with House Neptune. There is¡ª"

    Bracken clasped his hands together and smirked. "So, a hypocrite."

    Franklin scoffed and glanced at Henryk, who was still standing over August with the blade in his hand. The others wondered if Henryk would finally deliver the long-delayed judgment with his divine blade. Their thoughts echoed the same: it was time to pass the final verdict.

    But Bracken wasn''t finished. He scoffed and surveyed the room. "Maybe House Mars had an impact on everything, but let''s not confuse facts with fiction. Let''s find out what truly started all of this."

    Stella couldn''t help but scoff. "What are you going on about here?"

    Bracken shot her a look. "Really?" He tilted his head toward her. "Maybe because there are people in this room who need to own their sins." He gestured toward everyone, his mighty Warhammer resting on the steel floor.

    "You think this is really the time for that?" Zephyr said, drawing his pistol as the others from House Mercury followed suit.

    The room erupted as everyone reached for their weapons. Even Fleeboy managed to get up and stood with the ranks of House Mars, his black eyes peering from the helmet''s red eyeholes. His fingers tensed on the gladius as the fear and distrust permeated the room.

    Piper''s hands trembled on her gun, and her gaze darted toward Henryk, who was nursing his wounds, his blade at the ready.

    "What are we going to do?" Henryk asked.

    Edward shook his head, hearing a derisive snicker from Henryk. "Do you really think we can shoot our way out of this?" Arthur snapped.

    Edward scoffed. "Why don''t you say that a bit louder," he retorted, gesturing to their sides. "Our allies might rally with us."

    "I think they''re more focused on taking out their enemies," Arthur finished.

    They watched as Henryk''s hand moved to his back, slamming his blade into the metal floor. He pulled out his book, his fingers tracing the pages.

    "W-What are you doing?" Fleeboy asked, his gladius at the ready. The feral member of House Mars was under scrutiny.

    Bracken regarded it with shock and pointed it out to his house. Silent mutterings spread through the crowd. "It still fights with them?" someone remarked. "His body has healed even after such an injury?"

    Stella watched in astonishment. "Even now, the beast of Mars fights with them."

    Zephyr snickered, standing close to her. She scowled at him. "You have something to say, Zephyr?"

    "Say what you will, but the Martians have no loyalty," he remarked.

    Stella pondered the words for a moment and repeated them under her breath. "The Martians know loyalty." As she spoke, her mind wandered to the past and the present, and her gaze settled on a small group of about twenty, remaining silent, with their own hidden motivations and agendas.

    Her eyes drifted to the figure at the center of the room. A tall man, muscular and imposing, appeared in his prime, concealed beneath futuristic, milky-white armor. She looked away, focusing her attention on Logan. Doctors surrounded him, making it hard for her to see past his shoulder. Yet, the mysterious white knight remained on her mind.

    Stella clicked her lips and shook her head. "Martians know loyalty," she scoffed, turning away from Zephyr''s gaze. "You really are an idiot, Zephyr," she concluded.

    Bracken''s chuckle echoed through the room, stealing everyone''s attention. His Warhammer rested over his shoulder with one hand, and the members of Pluto had their weapons ready, but seemingly off safety.

    "You wish to speak of the past?" Ed inquired.

    Bracken seemed surprised. "You want to talk, Eddie?" He replied with a playful tone, laced with a hint of drunkenness. "I''ve had many conversations with Henryk, and he''s told me that the past, present, and future are often open to interpretation for good old Ed."

    Edward burst into hearty laughter. There was a moment of pause as he composed himself. "No," he said, waving his off-sword hand dismissively. "I just think it''s a good idea for people to understand who they''ve really been following. Honestly, I could have a conversation with some of the folks here..."

    Ed''s gaze shifted to the white knight. The attention of the crowd followed suit. Even Fleeboy harbored intense disdain for the white knight, who gazed menacingly in their direction. But another voice arose from the crowd, stealing the spotlight, as the story of the white knight and the ensuing issues would be addressed later.

    A man made his way through the crowd first, pausing within his house. He wore power armor concealed beneath a heavy coat, with an elegant dueling sword secured in a leathery scabbard, adorned with intricate runes and artwork of pagan design. A lone snake slithered amongst the illustrations, coiling around the scabbard''s tang. A snake devouring itself, surrounded by other symbols: the viper, the snake, the devil. Humans, intertwining in a dance of their own desires. Man and woman, man and snake. To them, Darwin was wrong.

    He had tanned skin and a regal purple coat, accented with golden strands that lined his jacket. His long, jet-black hair cascaded wildly down to his neck. What caught the eye was the purple of his irises, a shade slightly lighter than Henryk''s own mutation.

    He approached Henryk, who had driven his blade into the steel floor of the ruined factory. Both of them locked eyes, the malice and camaraderie between them palpable. Two warriors who had crossed blades and shared battles.

    "Hello, Jace," Henryk greeted.

    ¡­and the pain was in the names.

    Ed observed the two young men for a moment, their exhaustion apparent. It wasn''t the weariness of the planet or the recent duel that weighed them down. No, it was the burden of mutual loathing they had carried for too long. They had crossed paths one time too many.

    Jace moved closer, his gaze struggling to meet Henryk''s. He found it hard to look him in the eye, as Henryk''s once bright blue eyes now bore a deep indigo shade. The height difference was another striking change¡ªwhere Jace had been shorter by a head, he now towered over Henryk at a formidable six foot five, with greater muscle and strength. Still, Jace harbored no fear of the Martian halfbreed.

    Taking another step forward, Jace locked eyes with Henryk. "If you want to revisit the past, Henryk, I''ll oblige," he declared. "Do you recall the first time we clashed? The things you''ve done... what you did to Marri."

    Henryk started to respond, anger etched across his face, but then he hesitated and fell silent. "No words, Henryk?" Jace taunted. "You''ve always been a coward, never had the guts to face me and..."

    "Shut your mouth!" Henryk snapped, turning to face Jace. "I''ve apologized countless times for what happened with Marrinette. I think of her every night before I fall asleep. I see her when I think of my sisters and mother. Do you have any idea what I do to even dream without seeing her face in anguish, burning in that..."

    "Quit pretending you care!" Jace screamed.

    "You weren''t the one who cared!" Henryk shouted back, jabbing a finger at Jace. "She died because of you!"

    "Enough of this!" Jace bellowed, his gaze sweeping across the room. His next words burst forth like a triumphant cannon. Tears streamed from his eyes as he vented his anger on the hero of the story, the tormentor of Mars.

    "Tell them!" Jace screamed, and shame enveloped Henryk''s soul. His mouth went dry as he stared at the floor. "Tell them!" Jace repeated, but Henryk remained silent.

    "Tell them, tell them what you did to Marrinette. Tell them how you murdered her!"

    "No!" Henryk snapped, his head turning away as he tried to shut them out. "Enough of this... you know what..."

    "Tell them!" House Venus demanded, and Henryk closed his eyes, clutching his head in his hands.

    "Do you remember, Henryk?" Jace spoke calmly, overriding the chaos with malicious intent. Henryk slammed his eyes shut, and horrifying images flooded his mind''s eye. A young woman with purple eyes, her jet-black hair cascading in curls as she waded...

    "Do you remember how you murdered my little sister?"

 Chapter 8 - The So Called Master Race of The House of The Blue Dragon

    Chapter 8 - The So Called Master Race of The House of The Blue Dragon

    As Henryk strode through the bluish-tinted doors of House Neptune, led by Logan amidst their peers, an overlooked memory resurfaced. It was a dream he''d long left behind, the yearning to traverse the stars armed with sword and shield. To be counted among the emperor''s elite, a bringer of honor and glory to his planet, his kin, his name. He was his father''s son, and that shadow loomed large over Henryk''s soul.

    He pondered his father''s journey¡ªfighting amidst the fading light, triumphant in death, spoken of in hushed reverence even after his demise. Henryk wished to grasp his father''s essence, to comprehend him as one might understand the pages of history. Yet, he didn''t fathom how far he''d surpass that legacy, like Phillip to Alexander.

    The entrance to Neptune exuded regality. Greek and Romanic artworks adorned the narrow walls, paintings and stone carvings casting a spell upon Henryk''s gaze. His attention fixated on the allure surrounding them all, lost in their splendor.

    "You know we control the sunroof?" Logan interrupted their stride, turning back to Henryk.

    "Didn''t have that luxury where I come from," Henryk replied. "Maybe for some fancy crops, but not in my colony''s budget."

    Logan chuckled. "If you align yourself with Neptune, you''ll have such luxuries."

    They continued, Henryk still entranced by the hall''s artistry.

    "You like art?" Logan queried.

    Caught before a statue, Henryk reddened and shook his head.

    "We at Neptune value the arts," Logan continued. "Venus might outclass us in that."

    Henryk shrugged, but Logan persisted. "Do you create art?" he prodded.

    Henryk hesitated, nodding and then shaking his head¡ªa moment that nearly sent Logan into fits of laughter.

    "Whoa," Logan exclaimed, slapping his knee. "Never seen someone both nod and shake their head at once. Looks odd."

    Henryk sighed in fatigue. The eccentricity of the academy''s affluent and enigmatic individuals puzzled him. Edward, a Martian defector; Logan, who seemed overly formal; and Piper, seething with frustration.

    His thoughts flitted to others he''d encountered. Finally, he admitted, "Drawing and music," embarrassment tinging his words.

    "Drawing and music?" Logan echoed, his tone carrying a hint of doubt. "Henryk, your dyslexic pencil scratches and your fiddling don''t exactly qualify as skilled arts."

    "What the hell did you just say?" Henryk responded, a quiet and cold anger simmering beneath his words. The tension was punctuated by Logan''s wild laughter.

    "Christ, Henryk," Logan managed between fits of laughter. "Don''t you know when someone''s yanking your chain?"

    Banter. They''d been bantering with him, perhaps more than he''d realized. Henryk sighed, facepalming in response as he and Logan continued down the hallway.

    The hallway soon came to an end, revealing the entrance''s surprising sparsity. Henryk''s assumption about the number of House Neptune members proved wrong. Stepping into the main entrance, he was utterly stunned.

    The house''s main entrance mirrored the hallway''s sunroof, casting down natural light. As Henryk observed, the panels of the roof started to shift and contort.

    "What''s that?" Henryk asked, genuinely curious.

    "Ah, a hick wouldn''t know such things," Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying his own words. "You see that roof? Billions of dollars," he proudly stated.

    "What''s it do?" Henryk questioned, flashing a smug smile. "Billions for a roof seems a bit extravagant."

    "Billions for a roof is cheap when you have trillions back home," Logan bragged.

    Henryk shrugged, remembering the scarcity of meals back in the colony. To him, billions seemed like a distant dream. Now, surrounded by nobility, he was determined to make his name known.

    Laughter erupted from the Neptune members, their uniforms adorned with the blue of their house. Henryk and Logan turned to see a reunion, introductions flowing in celebration. Henryk glanced around until his gaze was captured by a large room.

    In front of him was a mural, spanning the entire wall that met his view at the entrance. Henryk took a few steps forward, captivated by the artwork. He heard Logan start to speak, but the mural held him in a silent reverie. The painted masterpiece stretched from floor to ceiling, capturing his attention with its aged brilliance.

    "You can touch it," Logan remarked, breaking the spell.

    Henryk raised his hand, but there was a momentary pause. Logan sighed, leaning against the mural, almost challenging Henryk''s hesitation. "It was painted centuries ago during the..."

    "Xeno wars," Henryk finished.

    His eyes traced the rich blue and black hues of the artwork, frozen in time like a historical masterpiece. As his hand grazed the surface, he connected with a piece that had witnessed the flames of war, outliving even his grandparents. The power it held surpassed that of mere architectural significance; it resonated with a force that transcended both force and fire.

    A lone ''WarCasket,'' perhaps faded with time or artistic intent, took center stage. In the middle of a dark field, misty figures with tentacle-like limbs surrounded it. The evisceration weapon in its hands gleamed with gold as it rose.

    "What''s so special about this WarCasket?" Henryk inquired. "It seems to be the focal point, but it looks like an older mech pattern. Was it Neptune''s ARC core?"

    Logan shook his head. "No, this is basically our first champion, Rickert of The Chain. He wielded an evisceration blade when it was common and gained great prestige, fame, and honor. After the war, he even became an advisor to the king, back when we still had kings and queens."

    "You know a lot," Henryk commented.

    "Of course," Logan replied with a smile. "He''s an ancestor of my family."

    "Sure," Henryk retorted with an eye roll. "Lately, I''ve been hearing a lot about people with wealth and famous families. It''s starting to get annoying."

    Logan laughed. "I suppose someone like you usually talks to commoners and lowlifes of societies."

    "For someone who claims not to be led by a king, you sure sound like a classist," Henryk observed.

    "Maybe," Logan chuckled, starting to walk away. Henryk hesitated, contemplating his options. His gaze lingered on Logan, and though House Neptune seemed appealing, something about them felt off, a bit peculiar.

    Older than him, they shared striking features¡ªblond hair, deep blue to green eyes, and porcelain skin.

    Henryk sported wavy black hair that cascaded in front of his features, a rebellious dance that only a quick brush could tame. His deep azure eyes reflected the stories etched in the ruins of Europe, blending with the rich Indi stock heritage from his father. Standing beside Logan, the contrast struck him¡ªthere wasn''t much diversity in this place.

    As they lingered in front of the mural, the air grew tense, and Henryk couldn''t ignore the odd fixation on his presence. Reunions unfolded around him, but the whispers and glances seemed to orbit him, a gravitational pull of suspicion. Turning, he caught the gaze of a young man, slightly older, with a buzzed head. The hate in those narrowed eyes pierced through, leaving Henryk baffled.

    "What in the world," he mumbled.

    Logan, attuned to the shift in atmosphere, turned around. Their expressions dropped, and though the young man hesitated, he redirected his focus. Logan sensed Henryk''s unease. "You okay?" he asked.

    "No," Henryk retorted. He narrowed his eyes and spoke louder, calling out to the glaring figure. "That bald fucker over there has a problem with me."

    All eyes turned toward the commotion, Logan feeling the weight of second-hand embarrassment. "Yo," snapped Henryk. "You got a fucking problem or something."

    Logan intervened, gripping Henryk''s shoulder and steering him away. They retreated in silence, the tension lingering. Henryk''s mind replayed the encounter, recalling the echoes of his name mingling with annoyance. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "What was that all about?"

    "That prick was staring at me from across the room," Henryk explained.

    "So what?" Logan retorted, waving his hand dismissively. "You can''t just start problems with random people."

    "¡­only if we can''t feel their killing intent," Henryk murmured.

    A memory surfaced, bloodstained fists against the backdrop of a crumbling spaceship in the gravity belt of an impending planet. Henryk remembered the visceral feeling of another''s killing intent, now mirrored in this moment. A final backward glance revealed nothing conclusive, but a nagging thought lingered. No one could have known his secret, and as his mind churned, he shook away the intrusive notion. Piper, Logan, and even Ed might have had their suspicions, but only Henryk held the complete truth.

    The corridor stretched ahead, laced with the strange and expectant glances that followed Henryk. His mind swirled with the possibilities and the doubts, contemplating the odd encounter with the young man sporting a buzzed head. A fleeting thought grazed his consciousness, a notion he quickly dismissed¡ªthe prestigious academy of Neptune couldn''t house such prejudice. Or could it?

    Logan halted at the dormitory, donning his trademark smirk, undoubtedly signaling the continuation of their tour. As they navigated the hallway and rode an elevator to the second floor, Henryk observed the curious stares that never seemed to cease.

    "Here are the dorms," Logan announced, pushing open a door. "WarCasket pilots get the luxury of a single room."

    Stepping inside, Henryk was met with a space that resembled two combined janitorial closets. But surprise painted his face, forming an ''O'' as Logan leaned against the door, grinning at Henryk''s reaction.

    Henryk explored the room, fingertips gliding over the desk, trailing the fabric of the chair, and finally resting upon the neatly made bed. The room''s d¨¦cor, in shades of blues and teals, resonated with a depth reminiscent of the ocean from his childhood.

    "A decent dorm," Logan remarked. Henryk, fixated on the window, marveled at the view¡ªa sprawling expanse that encapsulated not only the academy but also the distant river marking the boundary between the campus and the city.

    "Such a breathtaking view," Henryk whispered, awestruck by the sight.

    Logan chuckled, but Henryk swiftly tried to retract his words. "Sorry about that, that was a bit... you know," he muttered.

    Logan burst into laughter. Yet, he composed himself and turned to Henryk. "There''s no shame in appreciating a good view." He joined Henryk at the window, as the sun began its descent, painting the city and the horizon in hues of warmth and cold, merging into a breathtaking display.

    "If admiring this is ''gay,'' then call me a ''homo,''" Logan quipped.

    Henryk shot him a look of surprise, to which Logan laughed, shaking his head. "You''re a peculiar one, Logan," Henryk retorted. "This place is filled with a bunch of oddballs."

    "Hey!" Logan recoiled playfully. "If we were on Neptune, I''d be the coolest person on the planet. And if you were on MidWorld, you''d be begging for my autograph."

    Their banter echoed through the room, blending with the captivating vista outside, momentarily suspending the weight of the unfamiliarity that surrounded Henryk.

    Henryk''s laughter echoed through the dormitory, a release of tension in the face of Neptune''s peculiarities. "Thank god for that," he quipped, "I''d take living on my backwater shit world than dealing with that crap."

    Logan, initially bristling with frustration, let out a weary sigh, his blond hair falling over his features. A calm settled over him, leaving Henryk pondering why Logan invested so much time in his company.

    The room had hushed now, both men gazing through the window at the mesmerizing sight outside. "Such a beautiful sight," Logan mused, throwing a glance at Henryk. "If Stella lets you in, you may wake up to me in here painting this stellar view."

    Henryk, nonchalant, took a seat along the window''s edge. "That''s how you end up getting punched," he remarked.

    Logan chuckled. "Oh, really? You assume you''re quicker than me."

    A smile graced Henryk''s face. "I saved your life out there."

    Logan''s eyes widened briefly, annoyance flickering across his features. He shook his head, wounded pride evident for a moment. "You practice the arts?" Logan inquired.

    Henryk hesitated, eyes drifting to his lap. "Music..."

    "What was that?" Logan pressed.

    "Music!" Henryk reiterated, initially red-faced. He sighed, realizing his volume had exceeded expectations. "Drawing... no, I am not a fancy painter. Illustrator, no, rather a drawer."

    "Drawing and music," Logan repeated, pride emanating from him. He turned towards Henryk. "Why are you so upset, Henryk?"

    Henryk remained silent, caught in a moment of introspection.

    "Henryk, the greatest warriors tended the most beautiful gardens. There''s no shame in having passions outside of warfare and destruction."

    The words struck Henryk, finding a place within his mind''s eye. They clung, threatening to plague his thoughts in the sleepless nights to come. Henryk sighed, acknowledging the lingering impact. But he turned to Logan. "Why did you bring me here?" he queried.

    Logan shrugged with a smile. "Don''t you understand why you''re here?"

    "I reckon you and Stella are interested in me joining the house," Henryk ventured.

    Logan paused, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he nodded. "Then, you''ll be correct," he admitted. "Me and Stella were impressed with how you acted, and likewise, we appreciate how you hid what happened out there to Piper and Ed."

    Henryk''s eyes widened, then narrowed back to normal. "I didn''t do it for you and Stella to get into your house. Piper and Ed didn''t need to know inside that damned shuttle that I saved you," he declared, arms crossed. "It was not the honorable thing to do."

    "Honor?" Logan repeated, a smile stretching across his face. He liked that word. "What does a frontier hick know about honor?"

    "You''re speaking of my honor," said Henryk.

    "Touche," Logan replied. He sighed after a pause. "Have you ever heard of the trident of Neptune?"

    Henryk shook his head, but then a memory surfaced. "I''ve heard people call you the trident."

    Logan raised his hand with a smile. "No, no, and no," he repeated with false sincerity, prompting a glare from Henryk. Logan, to Henryk, moved like a slimy eel, and it was becoming more apparent that there was something more here. "The Trident, it wasn''t a name but rather an organization of three. These three were the greatest of Neptune, but the group has fallen through, and now we shoulder the name onto the champion."

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    "Why did it fall through?" Henryk asked.

    "They died," Logan said, but Henryk caught the hesitation in his response.

    "Yeah, years ago, but you would''ve..."

    Logan''s sigh and groan cut through the air, silencing Henryk. "This wasn''t something that happened years ago, but possibly over ten years ago."

    Henryk''s eyes widened. "Woah," he said. "I thought it was something that was decades ago, not so recent," he admitted.

    Logan nodded, a lingering sadness in his eyes that Henryk could feel¡ªan unhealed wound from the past, a responsibility shouldered by an heir who was never meant to be.

    Yet, Logan fixed his gaze on Henryk. "My ancestors were a champion of not only Neptune but of the emperor. I wish to restore the trident, but the trident must have two other members who are worthy enough to bear the mantle."

    Henryk''s eyes were wide now. "Are you asking me to..."

    Logan remained silent, softly nodding. "If Stella allows you to join, me and our trainers will personally hone your skills to the max that is possible. The work will be tough, but the honor and glory will be..."

    "Worth it," Henryk rose from the seat, nodding along. He extended his hand towards Logan, who looked at it with a mixture of shock and strangeness.

    "I accept," Henryk declared. "I''ll become a warrior of Neptune and..."

    "Whoa, Henryk!" Logan interrupted with a surprised shout.

    "Oh, damn," Henryk replied as he scratched his head. "Forgot about Stella."

    "Yeah," nodded Logan, but Henryk felt Logan''s hand on his shoulder. "So, let''s go up and see her."

    Henryk and Logan exited the room, shutting the door behind them, and took the elevator to the fifth floor of the building. This section was far sparser than before.

    "This floor is usually utilized for our leadership, aces, and champions," Logan explained as they continued walking.

    The hall was in pristine condition, and maybe...

    "The first person that isn''t pale is the one mopping," Henryk whispered.

    A student of Neptune was seen cleaning the floor, with deep chestnut skin and wild tousled hair. Headphones played in both her ears as she continued her task. Others around her, however, all had pale skin and blue eyes. The floor felt even more devoid of those with differing features. Just differing strands of yellow.

    As they walked, the pretense of a dorm hall started to fall away, and the place felt far more regal. There were fewer people, and the strange looks of superiority were aimed at Henryk. Maybe it was the coat, but that wasn''t okay. His mama taught him to treat everyone equally, regardless of who, or rather what, they were.

    Continuing their journey, Logan brought them to a stop in front of two massive wooden doors, throwing Henryk a final look. "Ready?"

    "Yes, ready," Henryk responded.

    "Remember, I''m on your side to let you into the house. Stella usually backs me up, but she has a way of surprising me at times," Logan explained.

    Henryk nodded, but Logan still paused. He let go of the door and stared at Henryk for a moment. "Stella does not know what I am planning on doing, rebuilding the trident and all. You''re a good bunch, Henryk. Can you keep this a secret between me and you?"

    Henryk felt the weight of the request, but who cared? Being a part of the trident was a hell of a way to get noticed by Neptune. Citizenship for his family, if they wished to go through the emigration process for Neptune, and he would bring honor and funds to those back home. For a moment, he thought of the idea of growing into an advisor for his planet, but he was just some hick struggling to read correctly. He sighed.

    "Of course," Henryk said.

    "Atta guy," Logan said, swinging open the doors.

    Stella was draped in a long, narrow room, the shock hitting Henryk hard as his gaze drifted upward. "Woah," escaped from his lips, eyes absorbing the mesmerizing dance of blue and green lights that surrounded him.

    Stella sat there, her porcelain skin almost skeletal to the touch, eyes narrowed into black pits. Clad in a tight outfit, a crescent over a trident marked her status as the president of Neptune. The ceiling, taller than expected, held crystal blue waters with fish swimming above, to the sides, and underneath. Henryk was astonished, colors playing over his features while Logan smirked, taking it all in.

    Maybe Henryk was what they sought. Not of Neptune stock, but perhaps that was enough. Logan''s eye twitched, his skill paramount, yet his other qualities needed consideration by others. His mind flickered to the boy staring at Henryk. Henryk''s kind could be a bit... but an empire needed its men.

    Stella typed aggressively on the computer, oblivious to their presence. Henryk watched a strand of her silky black hair dip along her chin, and his gaze traveled farther, discovering a dimple along her round breast.

    Growing red-faced, he shook his head, redirecting his attention to her eyes. "Hello," she greeted with a smug smirk.

    Henryk nearly jumped in surprise, growing even redder as Logan remained unaware. "Stella, this is Henryk, the guy that saved me from the cluster belt."

    Logan clasped his hand against Henryk''s shoulder, leaving him awkwardly in place. "He''s from the frontier, from some backwater world along the deep frontier. I know, I know, we usually don''t pick from his type of stock, but I''ve just got a good feeling about him."

    Stella''s expression shifted from smugness to blankness, a near disappointment. Henryk welcomed it; he aimed to transform that blankness into something more.

    "This is the best you''ve got?" Stella mused, sighing.

    "Best?" Henryk chuckled. "I saved him," he added with a thumb jerked toward Logan.

    Logan breathed heavily for a moment but found his calm. He gestured between the two with raised hands. "Enough of this," he said, glancing at Stella. "Stop acting all coy and smug, Stella. Henryk is good, and I personally think he''s a good fit for the house."

    Silence hung in the room, and Henryk felt Stella''s eyes narrowing as she scrutinized him. She shifted her gaze to Logan, who leaned against the desk. "Then have a seat," she instructed.

    Henryk complied, drawn to the unique glass chairs. "Made in Neptune," Logan boasted, pointing with an outstretched finger. "Both, actually. We got the new furniture a couple of years ago. My family chipped in a good portion of the cost."

    "Yes, we remember, Logan," Stella said, looking at Henryk, though her words were directed at Logan. "It''s been a long while since we''ve had nice things for Neptune. Been a real long while."

    "Yes, exactly," Logan chimed in, rising and gesturing upward with a smile. "We''re doing amazing now, Henryk, as a planet, I mean. Sure, there was a dark time, but we''ve recovered from it."

    "Mind if I ask about this dark time?" Henryk spoke, not particularly interested in the history or the rivalry. However, he felt prompted to ask a question.

    "I''d expect you don''t know about the conflict between Pluto and Neptune decades ago," Stella replied, looking at Henryk. "Logan mentioned you were from the deep frontier."

    Henryk shrugged, and Logan took the opportunity to explain. "Years ago, Neptune and Pluto had a bad war. It was before any of our real times, but I was told the stories by my great grandfather," Logan''s eyes had a glint, a sense of honor. "Pluto came upon our soil and fought against us for years. Even when we dropped bombs on their cities, they polluted our streets, claiming to rein in our government."

    Stella sighed, her gaze turning toward Henryk with a tired expression. He found himself assessing who was okay with being treated unfairly and who wasn''t. But those questions could wait; a greater revelation was on the horizon.

    "Well, my grandmother was alive around that time too," Stella said. "I remember the brutality of Neptune, and I also remember the effects of what happened on both sides. Henryk, please don''t listen to what this stone-headed boy has to say."

    Henryk chuckled, and Logan rushed to his defense. "Hey, Stella," he spoke, "my grandfather resisted Pluto when they acted dishonorably without the emperor''s approval." He spoke firmly.

    Stella sighed and shook her head, turning to face Henryk. "Tell me about yourself, Henryk. Think of this as a job interview." She paused, a smug smile playing on her lips, and Henryk found himself gazing more at the pink of her lips. "Try not to disappoint me."

    Her focus was intense, like a hawk honing in on its prey. "Where are you from?" Stella inquired.

    "Frontier, a backwater world," Henryk replied honestly.

    She chuckled. "I was asking for specifics."

    Henryk regarded her with a plain look. "Not really worth naming something so backwater something specific."

    The words brought a smile to her features. "Your accent is interesting," she spoke.

    "Funny," Henryk rose. "Seems like you''re more interested in me than what I can do."

    Stella''s mouth pursed for a moment, and Henryk found himself drawn to her mane of black hair, wondering how it would look free from its ponytail and preferably splayed along his bed.

    "Logan spoke highly of your skills," Stella proclaimed.

    "I was trained by a great many people," said Henryk with a smirk. "Pirates, mercenaries, and champions of the empire."

    "Oh, a mighty fine roster," proclaimed Logan.

    "There was a rampaging boulder heading straight towards your champion, and it was me and my eviscerator that cleaved it in two and rend it. I am Henryk, I pilot WarCaskets that are brutish and strong. You take me in, and I''ll power through any of our enemies'' defenses."

    "What a mighty proclamation," spoke Stella with a smirk.

    "I serve God, Emperor, and my family," Henryk added.

    "...I bet you do, a good little soldier," said Stella.

    Silence followed, Stella staring at him. Then she sighed, leaning against her chair, and both Henryk and Logan watched her.

    "I wish we could, because you honestly seem like a great and skilled person. However, I have a good question. What would you be willing to give up to become a member of Neptune?"

    Henryk was about to speak, feeling the change in the air¡ªthe room''s intensity and banter drained. This was strictly business now.

    "What are you asking of me?" questioned Henryk with a smirk. "I''m not going to say anything. Who knows what kind of bunch you are to be saying anything to," he regarded.

    Logan stayed silent, and so did Stella.

    Then, she spoke. "Your Evisceration Weapon," she said, her hands splayed along the glass of the table. She eyed him with coldness etched.

    "What about it?" spoke Henryk, and Logan wished to facepalm.

    "What are you doing, Stella?" questioned Logan, but Stella raised her hand.

    Stella paid no attention to Logan, her eyes driving straight into Henryk. "Technically, that weapon is an artifact of Neptuneian culture. It was forged on Earth during the times of the alien wars, but now it''s a relic that can never be replaced or salvaged. If you wish to join Neptune, you''ll need to sign away your rights to the house heads."

    Logan slammed his hand along the table. Henryk was too frozen to think, and his earlier thoughts of all the good things that could come from Neptune swiftly draped away like a curtain along a table, but snatched away.

    Logan eyed Stella. ¡°I rarely ever make suggestions in regards to who we recruit, and now you deny me this,¡± spat Logan.

    Stella shook her head. ¡°This was not on me; the house heads saw the video and saw Henryk slashing with that blade. It¡¯s historical, and technically, your family is the most outright that lays claim onto it.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes went wide and drew towards Logan.

    ¡°What the hell is going on,¡± proclaimed Henryk.

    Stella sighed, and her expression quickly drove back towards exhaustion and stress. ¡°Henryk, have you ever heard of the law dubbed, the accord of heroes?¡±

    Henryk stared at her. However, he sighed and slowly shook his head. ¡°Like, I¡¯ve got an idea of it,¡± he confessed. ¡°Property law or something?¡± he guessed.

    Stella nodded. ¡°Property law is a more simple estimation. Basically, within the realm if a great hero falls in battle and the weapon is dubbed lost, without certain restrictions, it will stay lost. However, if years pass and it makes its way towards the hand of someone¡­ maybe, it was god that decided it.¡±

    ¡°God?¡± Henryk looked at her in question.

    Logan chuckled at that. ¡°Over here in the Deacon system, there''s a bunch of pretty religious worlds. You see a lot of zealots, especially those that still praise Mars here.¡±

    ¡°Mars?¡± questioned Henryk.

    ¡°Tough manner of business that was,¡± Stella regarded, and she looked towards Logan. ¡°Wasn¡¯t the boy that helped you save Sirine, wasn¡¯t he a Martian?¡±

    Henryk watched the exchange. His eyes were wide, and now he was finally getting insight into how Edward has been doing.

    Logan shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Last I heard of him, he and a couple of other first years were actually of Martian stock.¡±

    Stella¡¯s eyes went wide at that. ¡°Really, how much?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Twelve to fifteen from what I heard,¡± Logan spoke in a dismissive wave. ¡°Funny, there disgraced shameful bastards, but they''re pitiful to look at.¡±

    ¡°Twelve to fifteen,¡± repeated Stella, and she hummed the words again. ¡°Mercury has a roster in the hundreds; compare that to Mars now it¡¯s pitiful.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve known even before that the Martians were too proud, and they rarely ever poached teammates,¡± Logan said.

    "Only champions," Stella affirmed, mockingness etched within the gesture. "You still hear talk from Pluto in bated breaths of their disgraced prince."

    Yet, before they spoke, Henryk interrupted them. "About my sword, are you saying that if I give it up¡­that you will sponsor me and turn me into a member of the house?"

    Stella had paused, and a smile graced upon her face. She slowly and softly turned to face Henryk. "Yes, that is exactly what I am trying to say to you. Give us the sword, and I guarantee you that this blade will find its hands in a champion of Neptune."

    For a moment, Henryk thought about it, honestly. Secretly, deep down, he wanted this more than anything he ever wanted and more. A dream to fly amongst the stars, to grow, to become a great man just like how his father was.

    Like Edward, he understood; they could never escape their father¡¯s shadow. For Henryk¡¯s father¡¯s shadow stems from a shadow along the back of a WarCasket, a lone warrior that faced a horde of slavers. He killed them, and within his death, his son, his family, his people found a home and freedom.

    He bore that blade, and alike to that of his name, he stared upon them all and looked at them simply¡­

    "No," he said.

    They looked at him; there was not a peep or a sound for a moment, but then Stella stared at him. "No," she repeated, and she stared at him. "Listen, if you hadn¡¯t come with that sword, my higher-ups wouldn¡¯t have cared about me letting you into the house. However, they''re using this as an excuse to strong-arm you. Henryk, this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer."

    "There are other houses," Henryk stated plainly.

    Stella chuckled at that. She stared at him blankly, and there was an unsettlingness to it. "None of the houses are perfect," she regarded. "Mercury is a cesspool of people; I¡¯ve heard that boys and girls from Venus find their vices at the end of a bottle or the tip of a rod, and House Mars''s secrecy is still even apparent now. Do not throw away something like a weapon that could be replaced, with the lives and future of your family."

    Now, Stella was starting to slightly annoy Henryk. He narrowed his gaze at her. "Excuse me," he spoke as he rose out of his chair. "Do not tell me what you think me and my family need," he threw his gaze towards Stella, who merely stared up at him, and then towards Logan. "I do not know anything truly about that sword; all I know is the name and how many times it has saved me from the brink of death. I¡¯ve fought countless enemies on my colony with it, and my father wielded it in his same hands. This sword is mine; it¡¯s practically an extension of myself like my name, and no man should ever barter their own damn name."

    Stella¡¯s eyes widened at that. "A man should never barter his own name," Stella repeated in her own words. She eyed Henryk. "That¡¯s a pretty poetic thing to say."

    "It¡¯s real," Henryk announced. "Bad things come from men bartering things that can never come back. That is why that sword was his, and now it is mine. I won¡¯t ever part with it."

    Stella sighed loudly. ¡°Well then, Henryk. I am sorry to tell you this, but you are going to have to find a different house.¡± She rose from her seat and stuck out her hand to face him; he looked at it and felt a pillar of shame course through him. He was greedy earlier, thinking it was going to be that easy. Now, he was faced with the reality of it all.

    Henryk sighed, and he rose out of the chair and took her hand. ¡°I hope for the best,¡± Henryk said.

    Stella¡¯s eyes widened for a moment, but then she sighed and scorned him now like he was a disappointment, but the earlier charm had now faded. Stella shook her head. ¡°If you are not expelled or killed and actually join a different house that opposes Neptune, do not expect me or Logan to show you any candor. This ends now.¡±

    ¡°Kill?¡± Henryk repeated, and his mind churned at why she had gone that way. This was a school and¡­and¡­

    Henryk shook his head. They were salty due to the fact that he wasn¡¯t going to give them a priceless family heirloom. Fuck Logan¡¯s distant ancestor; his father died with it in his hands; it was his birthright to bear.

    Henryk turned to leave and started walking away. ¡°Stella, wait, Henryk¡­come back!¡± Logan yelled, and Henryk¡¯s mind whirled towards what Logan had talked to him about earlier. Looks like his earlier talk of reforming the trident was not going the way he wanted it to.

    There was quick dialogue between Stella and Logan, more alike to Logan trying to convince Stella to just let it slide and just lie. However, she dissuaded this. Henryk was already going down the stairs as he heard Logan holler his name.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Logan called out.

    Henryk paused within the white staircase. It was afternoon now, and¡­no, it wasn¡¯t. Henryk watched as the dying light of the sun dipped over the horizon. In the distance, on the artificial plating of the campus, he could see the lights shine of students'' photos blaring upon the false atmosphere. The pride and joy of the frontier, good enough to get realized into the legions of the houses to potentially bring honor and glory.

    ¡°Today is just not my day,¡± Henryk thought. His mind churned with the days, but this was the first real day. He knew he was skilled; he knew that he had this, but his own mind was so confident that Neptune was going to be it, but it wasn¡¯t, and that scared him for what led into the future.

    ¡°Henryk, what the fuck was that!¡± Snapped Logan.

    Henryk shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want from me, man,¡± said Henryk. ¡°I am not going to give away my father¡¯s sword.¡±

    ¡°You mean my family''s sword,¡± Spoke Logan in an aura of importance, and that aura caused Henryk to sneer and stare at him.

    ¡°My father¡¯s sword, Stella spoke of it in imperial law,¡± Henryk thrown back into his face.

    Logan wrapped his arms around himself and stared at Henryk. ¡°If you give it up, you will have a great place by my side. Think of the luxuries of Neptune, think of what you can bring home with us backing you.¡±

    ¡°Why do you want me so much?¡± Henryk asked, speaking with pure honesty.

    Logan sighed. ¡°You know that I wish to reform the trident, and I need people like you. The way you speak of honor, and the way that you maneuver your ¡®WarCasket¡¯,¡± He paused and stared at Henryk, flashing him a teeth-filled grin. ¡°All we need to do is a combat module and show Stella and the rest of the house how good you are. They¡¯ll let you in in no time.¡±

    Henryk paused, momentarily intoxicated by Logan¡¯s enthusiasm. He felt swallowed by it, finding it akin to the charm of a politician or a lord. However, something caught his attention on the side.

    ¡°Gee, they¡¯re still wailing on him,¡± Logan remarked.

    Henryk was staring, mouth partly agape, eyes fixed through the glass. Logan was taken aback. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he questioned.

    ¡°Am I okay?¡± Henryk echoed.

    He whirled towards Logan, pointing out the window. Tyson, his body splayed along the alleyway between two buildings. Henryk could only glimpse the scene from the window as he lashed out at Logan. ¡°You¡¯re watching him get his ass kicked, and your smile is getting really freaking irritating, man,¡± Henryk said.

    Logan brought his gaze up. ¡°Are you speaking of the mutant?¡±

    ¡°They wear the blue of Neptune,¡± Henryk said, malice etched deep into his voice. ¡°What the hell did Tyson do to get beat up like this?¡±

    Logan merely brought both hands up. ¡°Existing,¡± he stated.

    ¡°Existing,¡± Henryk repeated, staring at him.

    ¡°I do not understand why you feel sympathy for the mutant. You do realize that these abominations merely plague our emperor¡¯s empire. Imagine a perfect being, a being that will unite us all in a¡­¡±

    ¡°A master race, I¡¯ve heard the same spiel from cultists within deep frontier bars,¡± spat Henryk, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°What a disgusting racist lot you are.¡±

    ¡°Racist you¡­¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Logan,¡± said Henryk. ¡°I know how you people looked at me, and the only real people you have working here of notice are students that are colored. What were you planning on doing, huh? You wanted to toss me into a closet, right?¡±

    Logan merely stared in silence, then in anger. ¡°My great-grandfather,¡± he proclaimed a moment later, ¡°he was a mutant hunter, when it was legal, of course. He purged the unclean filth from the rat nest they called homes. He snapped their babies'' necks like twigs and gutted the mothers like hogs. He took the men and wrested their rods from their bodies so they¡¯d never spread the unclean. I come from that long line, Henryk.¡±

    Henryk was frozen, letting the words reel in. In that moment, he was angry and disgusted by Logan, but even more disgusted by the idea that he had allowed Logan in and actually admired him slightly. His mind drifted towards Ed, but he shook it away as Logan continued.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the sorcerer burn at the stake, and let me tell you, Henryk, it makes me feel pretty damn proud to be a part of God¡¯s master race amongst the stars. Purging the wicked is in my blood.¡±

    Henryk stared at him, then looked towards Tyson. He sneered and took a step forward with a clenched fist. Staring at Logan at eye level, he finally spoke.

    ¡°You are disgusting. I am ashamed to have even stood by your side.¡±

    Henryk turned around, walked down the steps, whirled open the door, and broke into a sprint. Before, Henryk might have thought twice, but he was fuming over what Logan had said, and his senses had lost him. As he rushed to aid Tyson with a clenched fist, he realized just how abnormal the school was.

    In the heat of the fight, as Henryk''s fist slammed into a bully''s face and Tyson rose to stare upon him with a bruised face, Logan, the spear of Neptune, watched on in a strange contemplative silence.

 Chapter 9 - Different Men

    "Are you okay?"

    The words hung in the air, and Tyson slowly opened his salty and bloodied eyes.

    "Are you?" Tyson mirrored the question back, struggling to rise from his belly. His muscles and senses flared with pain as he fought against gravity to pull himself back onto his feet. The boy with the strange name, Henryk, still had his hand leveled in front of him.

    Tyson''s gaze shifted in different directions. They were in the back of Neptune House, the door nearly thrown off its hinges by the wild winds of the setting sun, slamming loudly into the adjacent wall. Tyson wondered how Henryk could see him, and his eyes drew towards the many windows of the house where people were now staring at them.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Tyson noticed a pair of boys who looked like they were stimming, practically jumping from the excitement of the fight. They waved behind them, and a third friend joined the show. Groups of party girls, sons and daughters of high Neptune nobility, and champions and famous individuals stared upon them.

    The alleyway that bordered House Neptune, or rather the halfway, held their garbage cans and recycle boxes, feeling more like a loading dock than an alleyway. There were a couple of cars, older models than expected, but a student did what he had to do.

    Henryk sighed, drawing Ty''s gaze back to him. Henryk had a few bruises on his form, nothing too severe, but the pain in his voice was palpable. The three other students of House Neptune either lay in exhaustion or passed out from the fury of the fight. Henryk had gone to each one, freeing them from Tyson''s assailants. The injuries made Henryk want to keel over, his eyes stinging with tears, but he shook the thought away.

    Tyson rose slowly with Henryk''s help, their hands clasped upon each other. Henryk released his hold to wipe debris from his pants, and with a sigh, he began walking. Tyson followed after him.

    "Hey, where are you going?" Tyson questioned.

    Henryk didn''t turn back, maintaining his pace forward as bruises started appearing across his features.

    "Hey," Tyson called out, quickly storming in front of Henryk, effectively cutting him off.

    Henryk paused in his stride, raising his gaze towards Tyson. In that moment, Ty saw the anger and pain etched into Henryk¡¯s face, still bearing the bug-eyed adrenaline that flowed through his veins.

    "What do you want?" Henryk questioned.

    Tyson paused, exhaling a sigh. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

    Henryk stared at him in silence, prompting Tyson to continue. "People don¡¯t do that. Not for us, not for mutants."

    Henryk slowly shook his head, then locked eyes with Tyson. "Why did you do that?" Tyson asked again.

    Henryk clenched his teeth, wrestling with the decision. He knew he didn''t owe Ty anything, but for a moment, a sense of kinship crept in. Perhaps someone like Tyson could understand the weight of being a reject, of harboring a hidden truth. Henryk''s thoughts wandered to the cluster belt and his recent foray into powers and oddities beyond his usual realm.

    His mind replayed memories of House Neptune, a place that started out fine but soon revealed its peculiarities. The odd house where everyone seemed uniform, and those who stood out were relegated to less favorable roles. It reeked of racial undertones, yet in the post-Xeno wars era, discussions of colored racism or superiority had dwindled.

    Due to his birth circumstances, Henryk suspected he descended from Indi stock. But it wasn''t that straightforward. His features were a blend of various influences, with dark blue eyes, messy curly black hair, and medium tan skin. He pondered the uncertainty of his lineage, realizing he could have roots in ancient Africa, the Middle East, or perhaps his father hailed from one of the core worlds. The son who knew his father through his greatest achievement grappled with his inability to comprehend the man and his journey, faults, and trials that led to that pinnacle.

    A fleeting memory of his mother''s words surfaced in Henryk''s mind. In the vast expanse of the universe, humans, no matter their origin or advancements, found ways to discriminate based on ideology, race, or creed. Even as they spread through the stars, humans clung to hatred for the unknown. Now, Henryk understood why he intervened.

    He sighed. "They were ganging up on you, three on one, and I¡¯d be damned to let some crap like that slide."

    Tyson stared at him, a silent pause enveloping the two men until Tyson broke it.

    "Who are you?" Tyson questioned, snorting. "A real weirdo to be helping a freak like me."

    "Hey," Henryk replied, but Tyson chuckled heavily. Blushing with embarrassment, Henryk turned a corner with Tyson following after him.

    ¡°My name is Henryk,¡±

    ¡°Henry?¡± repeated Tyson. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty rare name, haven¡¯t met a dude named Henry in years.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± spoke Henryk. ¡°Henryk, there is a K at the end.¡±

    It took a second for Tyson to realize, and then he chuckled. Henryk noticed something interesting about Tyson during their walk ¨C he was one who always smiled.

    ¡°Rare name still.¡± There was a point at which Ty paused, almost like a sign of resignation arose from him. Yet, it faded away, leaving a lingering sadness etched into it.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Henryk asked.

    Ty smiled. ¡°It¡¯s Tyson, but people just call me Ty for short.¡±

    Henryk nodded as the pair of boys started to walk down the street together. They waded within silence through the crowd of students. There were fewer people than when Henryk had originally arrived, but there was a static to the night air.

    ¡°You know there¡¯s meant to be a party tonight?¡± Tyson raised.

    Henryk raised an eyebrow. ¡°A party?¡± He looked around and realized it. He turned his gaze forward and saw a group of people. They bore the brown of Pluto. No, Henryk shook his head, Pluto was an all-male body. Brown was of Earth, humanity¡¯s birthplace.

    Henryk watched as they hollered drunkenly. There were five in the group; some tried to hide that they were already drunk, while others screamed and were puking to the side. ¡°Lucky bastards,¡± spoke Ty. ¡°They can actually party and enjoy the mini break before classes. Damn it, I really need to find a house.¡±

    Ty turned his gaze towards Henryk. ¡°Henryk, why are you still houseless?¡±

    Henryk turned to Ty, and maybe it was the confusion upon his features, but Ty stared at him. ¡°You were in Neptune for hours, Henryk. You have to understand people were waiting out there for hours, and then you show up for like thirty minutes, beat the crap out of someone, and Logan of Neptune himself personally escorts you into the building. That¡¯s insane,¡± Ty commented with pride and astonishment laced into his voice.

    Henryk stared at Tyson for a moment. ¡°Didn¡¯t realize that it was that big of a deal,¡± said Henryk.

    ¡°It¡¯s a major deal,¡± retorted Tyson, eyeing up Henryk. ¡°That accent of yours, it¡¯s got me thinking that you¡¯re from the frontier.¡±

    ¡°Deep frontier,¡± Henryk cemented. ¡°¡­and before you ask, I¡¯ve talked to quite a bit of people, and yes, I know I hardly know my shit when it comes to the universe.¡±

    Tyson sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not that big of a deal. Look, when you get the time out of all of this¡­¡±

    Henryk rolled his eyes. ¡°You really assume that we¡¯re going to get out of this,¡±

    Tyson continued. ¡°¡­I''m just saying, open up a couple of your house''s books. Whether it¡¯s Neptune, Mercury, or Mars, you have to learn about the people you are serving and surrounding yourself with. Learning their culture, adhering to their traditions, becoming part of a bigger being. That is what it means to serve not only your Planet Lord but also your emperor.¡±

    The words visually pained Tyson to form and came out cold.

    Henryk stared at him for a moment, nodding along. He sighed, unsure of what to make of Tyson¡¯s words. They strangely mirrored his own thoughts and opinions, but perhaps it was the way they were said.

    Tyson spoke of it like it was something to be ashamed of, but Henryk did not see anything wrong with it. Wasn¡¯t that the path he wanted to take, to gain the experience he needed and set out upon the stars? Whether as a mercenary, working for a Planet Lord, or even just fighting as a foot soldier. It didn¡¯t matter to him whom he served; rather, if they provided him the means to care for those back home.

    Because, in the end, when all else fails, family was all they ever had in this cruel universe. Maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why Henryk would grow to hate the Emperor so harshly. But to hate is to love, and to love is to hate. Henryk did not realize it then, but the coming tribulations would awaken the violence within him.

    Henryk paused to say something, to speak, but the words he was looking for were in his head, and he refused to speak them. Instead, he opted out. ¡°Sure.¡±

    The simple word caused Tyson himself to pause, but he coughed into his fist, and they kept on going. From a young age, Henryk knew that talk of the emperor, lords, and especially higher-ups was a big no-no.

    His mind whirled to a simple memory. Young, maybe eight or nine. His mother held him tight, as well as his little sisters, as the planetary head whipped a stealing beggar. Another boy, a couple of years older than him. He could remember the sound of whip against flesh, and there was a point to it all that the planetary head stated that he lost control, and the boy ended up dead. Shockingly, they replaced him with a new head, and he was arrested.

    Henryk did not know what was plaguing him so to be thinking so much. ¡°So, Henryk, where are you planning on going?¡±

    Henryk shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t really know. I am not too keen on finding a nice isolated place to sleep, thank you very much. Maybe,¡± Henryk paused and saw the faint lights of the diminishing sun still playing along the edges of the sky. ¡°Maybe, there is still a chance to turn this opportunity into gold.¡±

    ¡°Into gold?¡± Ty repeated.

    ¡°Think about it,¡± Henryk whirled excitedly to Tyson. ¡°This is the first real party of the semester. Think about it; there will probably be a good chance of networking with the houses. Maybe, I can throw around what I did at the cluster belt.¡±

    Tyson, almost like light bulbs appearing in his eyes, spoke. ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me about what happened at Neptune?¡±

    Henryk grew silent, his hand instinctively moving to the back of his head. ¡°I...I didn¡¯t get in,¡±

    Tyson paused at that, and a smirk crept onto his face. ¡°Well, it is what it is,¡± he sighed. ¡°Sure, don¡¯t get me wrong, it sucks, but like you¡­¡±

    ¡°Tyson, it¡¯s not that,¡± Henryk interrupted, scrunching his eyes together. ¡°I do not even know why I am telling you this.¡±

    Ty shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because we¡¯re both a bunch of rejects today.¡±

    Henryk shot him a look, and Tyson instantly started to sputter and stammer. ¡°Woah,¡± he backpedaled. ¡°I-I wasn¡¯t¡­I meant that you aren¡¯t a mutant, but that today you are a reject. I am a mutant so the L is always on me, I guess.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Tyson forced a smile, but Henryk only shook his head. ¡°I am not angry,¡± said Henryk.

    Tyson calmed down, and Henryk¡¯s mind whirled at what Tyson had said. ¡°Two rejects,¡± Henryk whispered to himself, sighing. There was kinship here. Even though Tyson did not realize it, Henryk knew.

    They found themselves around a corner. The campus road was relatively sparse, and there were hardly any people around. Sounds of partying and revelry echoed on both sides, but for now, they could speak.

    Henryk groaned, but that groan trailed along his voice and turned into a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s not ''it is what it is,'' especially when your family needs you. Especially if you had the chance to have everything, would you be willing to give something very important up?¡±

    Ty paused at that. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty heavy question.¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Henryk simply replied.

    Ty paused for another moment, taking a minute before he turned to Henryk to speak. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I would,¡± said Ty.

    Henryk, for a moment, parted his lips in shock, then a smile formed. That unknown kinship; for a moment, he had wavered in his decision. Perhaps, it was selfish. Sure, the weirdness and possible racial tensions of House Neptune. If he dealt with it, they could change his life.

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Ty spoke.

    Henryk sneered and shook his head. ¡°That bastard, Logan of Neptune,¡± he paused to take a breath. ¡°He¡¯s a real prick, you know. He was seeing you getting wailed on, and he was laughing at you, bringing up this racial hierarchy crap, and I was sick of it. I told him off and ran to help you.¡±

    Ty paused and looked towards Neptune, and Henryk, for a moment, forgot what Ty was experiencing. He had waited on that line with him. He had wanted to be a part of those eager halls and promises of what Neptune could offer.

    Henryk eyed him for a moment. He was a mutant, and he had seen others within the stock of the houses. Some scattered bore houses, but they bore patches of strange designs that noted their other, more important statuses. However, many more were houseless.

    Henryk wondered if they knew, the other sanctioned wizards. Sure, he was probably trained better than others, but some of these guys probably had tutors.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Tyson spoke. ¡°It¡¯s a hell of a reason, but¡­¡±

    ¡°They asked for my father¡¯s WarCasket evisceration weapon,¡± Henryk spoke honestly.

    Tyson paused at that, and Henryk saw the reserve in his eyes. Tyson looked at him. ¡°I understand fully.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Questioned Henryk. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I feel relieved but¡­¡±

    ¡°Henryk, are you a fool?¡± Ty chuckled at the question. ¡°Those weapon designs have been lost, and it¡¯s a damn miracle to restore them. That was something from your father, your blood, your family. There is an honor in that, and honestly, it seems like you didn¡¯t really like Neptune.¡±

    Henryk paused at that. ¡°They were still a real weird lot.¡±

    ¡°Well, from the way it sounds, they seem like they''re a bunch of anti-mutant pricks,¡± Spoke Ty.

    Henryk shook his head. ¡°Yeah, maybe, but it felt different,¡± Henryk didn¡¯t know what to make of it; he felt uncomfortable, but he didn¡¯t really know how to gauge it.

    Ty threw him a questioning glance. And Henryk sighed as he explained. ¡°It¡¯s just there was this weird guy and the way that Logan spoke to me a couple of times. Sure, the president was alright, but that guy was a bit off.¡±

    Henryk thought about him for a moment. ¡°They all bore blond hair and porcelain skin, and the only ones working were people of color.¡±

    Henryk raised his hand, catching the fading light. He eyed the nicks and contours of his right hand and the dark tan of it. ¡°My mother never knew where my father truly was from. I know he was from Earth, but the continents are many. A knight errant told me that in his opinion he could¡¯ve come from the Middle East, South America, or even certain parts of old Europe.¡±

    Ty rubbed the back of his neck. Henryk continued. ¡°It¡¯s just, I don¡¯t know, that guy with the buzz cut felt like he just hated me,¡± Henryk paused, his hand going towards his chest as he felt his breath rise and fall. He tried to keep himself steady, but the days prior events started to reel into him.

    The save from the cluster belt was clutch, but it worked, then the ramifications of what Edward was and the choosing. He had been sleeping in a park for two days. There was a public bathroom system, but no one dared to enter the showers. Henryk¡¯s clothing was spotty and getting grimy and dirty. He felt sticky within his skin.

    His breath came out hurried. ¡°I felt it, killing intent,¡± Spoke Henryk in a fevered breath. Ty approached him and rose an outstretched hand.

    After the alien came and battled humanity, hatred towards other humans was focused on the new threat, and for a time, that hatred, even after their extinction, still lingered in the form of the mutant.

    However, there were pockets of some that believed another man¡¯s skin or creed defined their existence. Sure, they were the minority now upon humanity''s domination of the stars. Yet, the minority could always appear in the positions of the top.

    Ty rose to speak. ¡°Henryk,¡± Ty rose to speak, but Henryk was gone, and a frenzy emerged.

    Henryk spoke, and the words came out rushed and hurried, and he felt like he was going to be upon tears. ¡°When I was younger, there were these bandits that surrounded my colony when it was real small. They came in packs of three and descended upon us, there was a time in which¡­¡±

    Henryk brought his eyes to a close, and a memory appeared within his mind''s eye. His small hands covered in the grime of red carnage. Woods surrounding him as limbless men of claws descended upon him and his sister. He could remember the way she clutched to him, the tears filling his eyes as the purple ghastly shadows moved towards them. His hand clutched the revolver, outstretched, and he opened his eyes as the shot echoed within the present.

    Henryk let out a bone-chilling exhale of breath. ¡°Let¡¯s just say, I know a thing or two about reading when someone or something is out to kill me.¡±

    Tyson paused at that, and Henryk for a moment felt horrible for doing that to him. But Tyson smiled and nodded. ¡°Well then you got a point about this place,¡± Tyson paused. ¡°This place is not a normal school.¡± He said.

    Henryk and him were both silent, and the air was tense. The wind hitched along their ears, and the impending semester hung heavy. Classes haven¡¯t even started, and they were dealing with their first assignment that could get them expelled. He had till the end of the week, or he¡¯d have failed.

    ¡°This assignment is bullshit, Henryk,¡± Tyson stated.

    Henryk nodded.

    ¡°¡­and we¡¯re still going through with it.¡± Tyson spat.

    Henryk paused, and there was hesitation within his lips. ¡°They are trying to¡­¡±

    ¡°Weed out the weak from the strong?¡± Spat Tyler at the inquiry. ¡°Yeah right, I am getting real sick of this shit, Henryk. I know that you''re not a mutant, but you¡¯ve done right by me and I don¡¯t forget my debts.¡±

    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Asked Henryk.

    Tyson paused, and he contemplated, but he turned to Henryk. He shook his head as he drew his attention to the floor. ¡°I am a damn mutant, Henryk,¡± He snapped. ¡°I ain¡¯t no pretty one either, and all I¡¯ve got is my strength and my abilities as a pilot.¡± He spat out the words.

    His fingers rolled into fists as he eyed Henryk. ¡°They won¡¯t do a damn interview with me for shit. Neptune is a bunch of anti-mutant pricks, Earth told me that they have a damn list for mutants to join and I¡¯d be at the bottom. And I¡¯ve heard that Venus House does a bunch of weird stuff to their mutants.¡±

    ¡°Weird stuff?¡± Questioned Henryk.

    Tyson paused at that. Henryk chuckled. ¡°Come on now, you¡¯ve got to tell me.¡±

    Ty put his hands together, but Henryk continued. ¡°Dude, come on,¡±

    Tyson sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t really know. You hear, I mostly know things from hearsay from the other mutants and undesirables at the academy.¡±

    ¡°You lot all stick together like a crew,¡± Bantered Henryk.

    Tyson chuckled at that. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re a real tight band of fellows and rejects,¡±

    They both enjoyed a hearty laugh at that. Tyson interrupted it as he spoke. ¡°A guy told me that he went into there. Honestly, I was thinking of joining the house too,¡±

    ¡°¡­and this is before you figured this out?¡± Henryk commented.

    Ty nodded. ¡°So, this guy, he basically goes into the house and he states that this thing looked really nice. He stated that it was like a manor inside,¡±

    ¡°A manor?¡± Henryk repeated in disbelief. ¡°I thought it was all dorm houses.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Said Ty plainly. ¡°Some of the houses don¡¯t have dorms because they usually have a selective number of people in their dorms at times. I know that House Mars and Venus do it, but those are the more secretive houses.¡±

    ¡°Let me continue,¡± Spoke Ty. ¡°Basically, he went in there, and they were doing all these weird tests on him. He has gill mutations, and he was telling me that they¡¯re a weird lot. They touched him all over, played with his gills and his willy. Pushed the fucker off of him and ran through the house nude, and he saw this real strange mural.¡±

    ¡°Mural?¡± Henryk repeated. ¡°That¡¯s funny, you know that House Neptune got a mural. Got some old guy on a WarCasket.¡±

    However, Henryk paused for a moment, his mind went towards the mural. And for a moment he¡­

    Tyson chuckled at that. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll love to hear about the mural then for Venus. Weird lot, they had this weird thing inside of their house. From his eyes and words, he stated that they were doing a lot of weird stuff in that.¡±

    ¡°Weird stuff?¡± Repeated Henryk

    Tyson eyed him. ¡°Things that the ten abhorrents forbid,¡±

    The air grew eerie along the cusp of their conversations. ¡°I know you¡¯re a hick from the frontier, but you must know of the abhorrants.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Henryk replied. ¡°My momma taught them to me as a boy.¡±

    ¡°So did mine,¡± Tyson said. ¡°He stated that the mural depicted strange acts and figures. Within the mural, there was this three-headed snake, a basilisk¡­he called it. It slithered around and ate itself and the other heads, but the mural depicted the snake crying out in joy. Then, there were people around it. They were the worst he said, they were naked, man and woman. They were¡­fornicating together around the snake and he said that there was blood, fires, and weaponry. Some even making their own holes inside of the snake to¡­¡±

    Henryk''s voice cut through the disturbing descriptions. ¡°Jesus Christ, enough,¡± he snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t need all that information. Just a bunch of freaky art people,¡± he spat.

    ¡°Yeah, a bunch of freaky art people, and they''re one of the only ones willing to take a mutant,¡± Tyson replied, the words escaping like venom. He turned away briefly in frustration.

    ¡°These houses, this damn universe. Ever since I started showing mutation, I¡¯ve been persecuted my whole life. Now, when I''m in a place where my skills should matter and be shown, they won¡¯t even give me a damn chance to even show my face.¡±

    Tyson clenched his fists, then seemed to find a calmer annoyance. ¡°Henryk,¡± he said, calling out his name. ¡°What¡¯s your opinion of Mars?¡±

    Henryk turned, arms wrapped around himself. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°You worked with Ed,¡± Ty said. ¡°¡­and you are different.¡±

    ¡°Different?¡± Henryk questioned.

    ¡°Yes, different,¡± Ty repeated. ¡°You defended me when I needed it. You still didn¡¯t give me an answer except kinship, but there is more¡­¡±

    ¡°Listen, Ty,¡± Henryk cut him off, stepping forward. He grasped a fundamental truth now.

    They all needed to shine. To attract desirable attention to stand out, and within this attention, they would be inducted into one of the houses. He''d tried with Neptune and failed. Yet, his reputation still glimmered. Tyson knew it, and he was a stranger until today. He could use this. Yet, there was something else. Something that people would scorn him for. A tool, a skill that could mark him as an adept. With proper training, maybe he could make something of himself.

    ¡°Whatever you hear and see, I want you to know that I helped you today because you are another person. It was wrong for them to hurt you because you are a mutant. You didn¡¯t choose this, and it¡¯s wrong for the empire to allow this. That is why¡­¡±

    Henryk paused, and Tyson looked at him.

    ¡°I was beside Ed, and he did not hesitate to follow me to save Sirine. He enjoyed it, but he was pivotal and risked his own life to save her. That was a leader. Stella, the leader of Neptune, stated that if the house we joined were enemies, she wouldn¡¯t hesitate to scorn me.¡±

    Tyson paused, his gaze locking onto Henryk¡¯s.

    ¡°I am a Martian.¡±

    Henryk stammered, and Tyson studied him. The weight of the harsh words¡ªabhorrent, traitor, disgraced¡ªechoed in Henryk''s mind. He, burdened with the right hand of the emperor, conversing with another like Ed who concealed his identity.

    As a loyal, conditioned servant of the empire, Henryk''s jaw locked, his fingers coiling into fists. But then, he stopped, a sudden calm settling upon him.

    Tyson looked at him and spoke, "You''re an alright bunch, Henryk. So, I''ll be honest with you. Are you familiar with the loopholes of being accepted into a house?"

    Henryk shook his head in response.

    "If you are accepted into the academy, you can join a house if you originate from it. There are sometimes restrictions, but House Mars has the lowest roster. I have my¡­" Tyson hesitated but continued, "I have what I need to be a full member, and I know that they need all they can get, especially now. They''ll take me begrudgingly."

    He spoke the words with a smile, but then sighed, "I wanted a life in one of the nice core worlds. Mars is practically an irradiated pit. Oh well, mercenary work was always an option to begin with," Tyson said.

    "So, you''re just going to give up?" Henryk asked, the anger laced within his voice evident.

    "Henryk, this is getting a bit ridiculous," Tyson replied.

    Tyson raised his hand towards the houses. "My mother passed away recently, and my father died when Mars fell," he hesitated at the words, but pressed on, "My mother was a scribe; she knew the intricacies of Martian culture and imparted said wisdom onto me. All that wisdom is currency now. Sure, I don''t really know well the house of the academy, but I know enough of the culture and enough of the Knights of Mars to know the type of weird stuff they''re getting up to."

    Henryk rolled his eyes. "More weird stuff," he said.

    Tyson smirked. "I''ll take that weird stuff rather than the type of stuff that Venus is on."

    It earned a laugh from Henryk as Tyson slowly started to walk away. He spoke in a wave, "See you next time, and unlike Stella, I hope we''ll be able to stay either good acquaintances even though I align with Mars."

    "Likewise, Tyson," spoke Henryk.

    Tyson turned to walk away, but hesitation laced his movements. He paused and turned back to face Henryk.

    "Henryk, you really are something else, you know that."

    "This is meant to be a compliment?" asked Henryk.

    Tyson shrugged his shoulders. "It is what it is, but you''ve really impressed me. After all the stuff you''ve had to deal with, you''ve shown candor and kindness."

    Henryk waved it off with a smile. "It''s fine," he spoke.

    As Ty began to walk away, Henryk was left standing, the echoes of their conversation resonating within him. His mind churned with the words that had been exchanged, Ty''s laughter echoing through the space, until it was replaced by a profound silence.

    But in that silence, Henryk was met with the warmth of Ty''s gaze, a gaze that felt like it was burrowing into his soul. "You are different than other men, Henryk," Ty said.

    "Probably stupider," Henryk retorted, a self-deprecating quip.

    Ty shook his head, his steps leading him further away. Even at a distance, his voice carried back to Henryk, a soft yet resolute tone. "A different mind is not a stupid mind, Henryk. It is because you think differently, that you act differently. That makes you unreadable... and that is a strength."

    Henryk watched Ty''s figure fade into the distance, contemplating the weight of those words. Part of him yearned to delve deeper into that conversation, to unravel the thoughts Ty had stirred within him. Logan''s talks of honor, mirrored now by Ty''s insight, resonated within him, resonated within House Mars.

    The two boys diverged, each walking their own path, Ty acknowledging his Martian heritage with reluctance, while Henryk ventured towards the party, a gathering that seemed to carry the weight of destiny. Unbeknownst to them, their fates were destined to interweave and converge on this coming night.

 Chapter 10 - Tyson and The House of The Red Moon

    The room was veiled in silence, a gathering of sons haunted by the shadows of their departed fathers. Rain painted the windows with its melancholic strokes, and Tyson found himself entranced by the watery dance outside.

    His visage, a juxtaposition of beastly features and human-like eyes, turned toward the rain-soaked panorama. In this moment, the thoughts of the frontier-born Henryk flickered briefly through Tyson''s mind. But now wasn''t the time for contemplation; it was the time for decisive action.

    "So, you wish to join House Mars?" The question lingered, echoing within the room. Tyson hesitated, and an unexpected shiver coursed through him. A peculiar occurrence, considering the season was summer, and they stood within the halls of House Mars. Or what remained of it.

    No, Tyson corrected himself mentally. This wasn''t truly House Mars; it was the specter of what once thrived. A graveyard now, the corpses cleaned but the scars of battle left to fester.

    The Academy, a revered institution in the vast expanse of the solar system, drew myriad aspirants. Some sought bureaucratic roles within the empire, while others yearned for a transfer to different worlds, chasing dreams of a better life.

    Tyson''s thoughts danced through the memories of House Neptune''s entrance, the grandeur of Venus''s manor, and now, the desolation of his home planet''s mansion, bathed in the emperor''s nuclear fire. He surveyed the faces around him, the boys who might determine his fate.

    For a fleeting moment, he pondered their birthrights but promptly checked himself. He, a mutant, had no grounds for scorn. The possibility of acceptance remained distant. Seated on a worn-out couch, or the remnants of one, Tyson observed the room. Its former grandeur, now ravaged by war, spoke of a desperate need for recruits.

    As five pairs of eyes fixated on him, Tyson sighed, a heavy exhale laden with the weight of uncertainty.

    "Yeah," he replied.

    "Why''d you sigh like that?" Ed inquired.

    Tyson lifted his gaze to meet Ed''s, surrounded by eyes that held a spectrum of emotions¡ªfrom neutrality to annoyance and distrust. Unlike his reception at Neptune, he hadn''t faced harassment here, yet the air was charged with a mixture of curious glances and guarded expressions.

    Ed''s words danced with jest, a smile etched on his face, as Ty perched on the remnants of a decaying couch. Before him, Edward had assumed the role of spokesman for House Mars. A peculiar bunch, thought Ty, observing the varied faces that lingered behind Edward. There was an oddity in their midst¡ªa deviation from the typical Martians. Secrets were once their allies, but now, survival demanded exposure.

    "This obviously is not his first choice," remarked a voice, harsh and bearing an unfamiliar accent, as if echoing from ancient Earth.

    A young man stepped into view, wild curls resisting the constraint of a brush, freckles scattering across his olive-pale skin. Emerald eyes, vibrant as moss, locked onto Ty through the fireplace''s flickering flames. Clad in the signature grey of House Mars, the uniform painted with lines of gold and crimson red, they all bore the emperor''s mark¡ªthe right arm, from shoulder to wrist, dyed in the red of dishonor. The unmistakable insignias on their shoulder pads hinted at lineage, revealing a truth Tyson had discerned.

    These were not mere recruits; they were squires or knights who had, like Ty, crossed a line in their infancy. They carried the Gene High-Lord spikes, mankind''s closest brush with divinity.

    "Vinnie," another voice emerged, belonging to a tall man with brown skin, a shade mirroring the vast void of space. Towering over them, his muscle mass hinted at genetic influences beyond mere spikes. "You should be the last one talking about wanting to be here," he chided.

    "Arthur," Edward interjected, cutting off the impending dispute. "I''m not a fool. I know many of you didn''t choose to join House Mars. I was there, and I was the only one who declared my heritage."

    Eyes shifted towards Edward, then dropped to the floor, a collective discomfort settling over them. Edward, seated in a semblance of a throne, rested his hand on the armrest, a cold smile playing on his lips¡ªa smile without warmth, a crispness that echoed coldness.

    "You lot should all be quiet," Ed declared, his words hanging in the charged atmosphere of the room.

    ¡°We have been,¡± a voice emerged from the crowd.

    ¡°Maybe with your voice,¡± Ed nodded, pausing. ¡°But your eyes, I can see what you are all thinking about. Now, what is the deal?¡±

    The question hung in the air, stark and honest. Silence draped over the room as Ed''s eyes darted individually toward each member. They found themselves averting his gaze, except for one¡ªAxel.

    Axel stepped forward, casting a sidelong glance at Ty as he circled behind him. Ty observed Axel closely¡ªan athletically strong figure, not as imposing as Arthur, leaner and shorter, with long blond hair stopping at the nape of his neck. His striking purple eyes, a genetic mutation from the spikes or a product of Mars'' scouring, gave him an otherworldly aura. The boy Ty believed could hail from a different world.

    ¡°He¡¯s a mutant, simple as that,¡± Axel declared, casting a hush over the room.

    Ty rolled his eyes, realizing he shouldn''t be surprised by the turn of events. Contempt flickered in his gaze as he eyed Axel. The boy''s regal clothing, a blend of purples and whites matching his eyes, lacked heraldry. Axel continued, ¡°We¡¯ve already been disgraced; we do not need a mutant running around here, and the other houses seeing how weak we truly are.¡±

    A groan erupted from the side, a boy with unruly black hair. "Always a racist prick around,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± Axel sneered. ¡°You''re going to defend the mutant?¡±

    The black-haired boy rose, locking eyes with Axel. ¡°I just think you should shut up,¡± he retorted.

    ¡°Really,¡± snapped Axel, pivoting. In the dimly lit house, illuminated only by the crackling fireplace, Ty failed to notice the short ceremonial gladius wrapped in rich fabrics and stars along Axel''s thigh.

    Joseph stared at Axel for a moment before lifting his gaze. ¡°Is that a threat?¡±

    ¡°A threat?¡± Axel repeated with a cool smile. ¡°I am just reminding you who you are trying to raise up against.¡±

    Joseph rolled his eyes once again. ¡°¡­and¡­who¡­are¡­you to raise up against?¡±

    Axel felt a vein pulsate on his forehead, wrenching his gaze toward Joseph. ¡°Really,¡± he spat. ¡°Do you wish to be educated on who I am?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Joseph. ¡°I wanna know what type of a prick you really are.¡±

    Axel''s demeanor darkened. ¡°You common lot,¡± he sneered at Joseph, ignoring the pointed glares from the others. Had he forgotten he was now their equal? Rules could bend in the right places, especially for those who hadn''t spent their entire lives on that feudal world.

    ¡°I am Axel Wolfsheim the III of ¡®The Red Templars.¡¯ My lineage stretches from the Xeno Wars of old, and likewise, of the first men of Mars.¡± Axel¡¯s proclamation rang in their ears, his hand rising into a tight fist, closing his eyes as the echoes of his words lingered in the air.

    Even Tyson, a mutant whose memories of Mars came in fractured flashes of light, warm yet soured by the taste of loss, couldn''t escape the weight of those words.

    ¡°Wolfsheim,¡± one of the boys spoke, a reserved tone in his voice.

    ¡°House Wolfsheim still lives,¡± Edward said, facing Axel. Axel, anticipating annoyance or anger, was met with Ed''s familiar smile. ¡°That¡¯s nice to know.¡± Ed rose from his seat, making his way toward Axel.

    For a moment, Tyson thought a confrontation was imminent. Ed''s hand moved toward Axel''s face, but instead, Ed wrapped an arm around Axel''s head and another around his back, pulling him close before turning to face the others.

    Tyson stared, the contrast between Axel¡¯s frizzy hair and Ed''s composed appearance striking. Ed spoke, ¡°It is nice to know that one of the Great Houses of Mars still draws breath. House Wolfsheim served even before the colonization of Mars; it is an honor and a relief to see you again.¡±

    Axel paused, his purple eyes locking onto Ed¡¯s green. In that moment, the smile felt eerily familiar. It triggered a distant memory within Axel¡¯s mind¡ªan oath broken, a young boy, and now, a journey through the stars. Homeless, dishonored, and lacking direction.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of your house,¡± Arthur spoke, the flames casting a flickering light on his features. Arthur addressed the crowd, ¡°My name is Arthur.¡± Pausing, he sighed and rested his hand on his chest. ¡°My father was Franklin of The Gun of ¡®The Dark Brotherhood.¡¯¡±

    Arthur''s words carried a muted somberness. Tyson observed the reactions in the dark¡ªthe ruined pool outside House Mars beginning to fill up, the scar beneath Edward¡¯s lip, a strange herby smell emanating from Joseph, and the silhouette of Joseph himself.

    In the darkness, Tyson perceived it all¡ªthe mane of black hair, the cuts on Joseph''s face, the scent of blood, with two distinct sources. One from Joseph and another...

    Tyson shook his head. It was becoming overwhelming, and his thoughts shifted to Henryk. The bruised features, the ruined uniform¡ªshockingly, everyone bore a similar mark of ordeal.

    "My father died on Mars," he spat out plainly. "My mother was a healer, and we found refuge on Irona II. Everyone there is either a healer, a healer in training, and¡­"

    Ed shook his head at that. "Oh, so you have good medical experience." Before Vinnie could respond, Edward took a step forward and extended his arms. "Does anyone here in this crowd have medical experience?"

    A few hands rose. Ed''s features soured in annoyance. "I''m not talking about patching yourself together after some stab wound from some crappy knife or maybe getting shot by some rebel grunt or imperial peacekeeper, knowing how some of you probably roll after the fall of Mars."

    There were open mouths at the comment, but some laughed it off. Ed returned a smile to those who brushed it aside. Vinnie merely stared at Ed as more arms started to fall.

    "Come on, raise it," spoke Ed, and Vinnie looked around, realizing he was the only one present with actual medical expertise.

    "Raise it," Ed repeated, and Vinnie reluctantly raised his hand, staring at Ed through narrowed eyes.

    "Good then." Ed clasped his hands together in a mighty clap. "You, Vinnie. You will be my Master of Medicine and Poisons."

    "Wait, what?" Vinnie took a step backward. "Wait, are you promoting me?"

    Whispers spread through the group as they observed the unfolding conversation. Tyson, understanding Vinnie''s reluctance, wondered if they truly needed a standard medic. Didn''t the school have doctors and a hospital within the city?

    Vinnie shook his head. "No," he stated flatly.

    Ed shook his head at Vinnie''s response. "No," he repeated, wrapping his arms around himself. "You are going to be the chaplain of the house. I am going to need someone who knows how to carefully remove and administer the spikes."

    Vinnie sneered. "Administer?" He scoffed. "Look around us, Ed. We are the best of the best of the ones that are already dead. There will be nothing more or nothing less that comes. We are all..."

    Ed''s audible groan cut through Vinnie''s words, and he sneered. "Bullshit," Ed plainly stated.

    "What?" Vinnie spoke, anger etching across his face.

    "You heard me," Ed said with an added chuckle. "Bullshit," he repeated.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Vinnie sneered, loathing that gaze now. "My spikes descend from ''The Retributors of Mars,''" he scoffed. "We were one of the greatest knight orders. I come from a long line of warriors in both the melee and the WarCasket. Do not dishonor me like this."

    Vinnie spoke those words, etched in malice and cold as a blade. Yet, Tyson could feel it¡ªthe last portion of the sentence. His mind drew toward the talk of honor from Henryk, and he pondered about it a second longer. Was Vinnie in the right?

    Tyson''s memories of Mars were hazy, but the Martian customs lingered in the air¡ªhonor, oaths, and the lingering presence of the Old Gods, even after their world had been obliterated. Vinnie, however, seemed more inclined to be a warrior than a chaplain. Ty understood the weight of the responsibility that came with healing, especially the recovery of their spikes. Vinnie held the crucial knowledge, and as Ty surveyed the large crowd, he realized the importance of Vinnie''s role.

    Within the shattered remnants of House Mars, Tyson could feel the weight of secrets veiled in the once great house and planet. Mars might not have been his first choice, but for Edward, it seemed like the only real choice, especially after the public shaming. Edward tried to defuse the situation, but Vinnie''s face reddened, and the tension in the room escalated.

    "Fuck you," Vinnie snarled, storming out of the room with purpose. Tyson watched him slip on his shoes, his departure drawing the attention of others in the room.

    "Where are you going?" Arthur questioned.

    "Away from here," snapped Vinnie. Tyson''s gaze shifted to Edward, who rose and moved toward the hallway that led to the massive aged wooden doors of the red house.

    "Really," Edward stated. "And where are you going to go?"

    Vinnie remained silent, continuing to dress. Edward persisted, "So, you¡¯ve got nowhere else to go, like everyone else here."

    Ed sighed. "Call it what you will, but honestly, I really don¡¯t give a damn outside of the survival of House Mars. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re a mutant, an offworlder, or that you didn¡¯t stand with me during the shaming. Honestly, my pride can be kicked through the mud if it means that we¡¯ll be able to survive, and that our lines do not end with the destruction of Mars."

    He paused, eyes fixed on Vinnie. "Do whatever you will, but if you leave this house, you will not be allowed to attend. My pride may be able to get wounded, and I¡¯ll take it. However, I won¡¯t be disrespected twice."

    Edward''s speech halted Vinnie in his tracks, emotions playing across his features. Ed knew Vinnie wasn¡¯t stupid; he had seen the boy¡¯s transcripts. Ed''s features soured as a low groan erupted from him. "Another piece of damned Martian pride," he snarled to himself.

    Vinnie''s growl erupted as he threw his jacket down. "Fine," he announced, whirling toward Ed. "I am only going to do this because you need a medic."

    Ed snickered. "Alright then," he spoke, and Vinnie, still fuming, ascended the stairs with trembling fists and a vein pulsing along his forehead.

    Axel''s voice slithered through the air, disdain dripping from his words. "Not sure how I feel about that low life nutcase treating my wounds," he muttered. Arthur shot him a disapproving look, rolling his eyes as Ed returned to the group. The towering figure paused in front of Ty, then loomed over the rest. "Do you all bear the spikes?"

    A heavy silence lingered, broken only by nods and sporadic comments. Joseph sighed, his admission carrying the weight of uncertainty. "Some of us do. There are others that do not know where their genetic heraldry comes from."

    Ed sighed, waving off the tension, and settled into a seat among them. "Okay, fine," he conceded. "So, we¡¯ve got a pretty nice roster." His gaze moved across the assembly¡ªTyson, Vinnie, Arthur, Axel, Joseph, Isaac, Gabe, and a handful of others who found their way into House Mars. The groundwork was laid; now, it was time for action.

    "I am Edward," he declared. "Let''s address the elephant in the room. We need money." A palpable silence enveloped the group. "Huh?" questioned Joseph.

    "Look around you," Ed stated, and they observed the cracks in the walls, felt the biting cold, and heard the scurrying of small creatures. "There is no water, there is no electricity, there is no wifi," he chuckled, his hand covering his face. "I¡¯ve been trying to play games on the school wifi." Ed stretched his hands, smirking. "Do you guys know how crappy the wifi is in the school?"

    Chuckles bubbled up from the group, but Joseph cut through the levity. "So, what are we going to do?" he asked.

    "I''ve got an idea," Ed replied, catching everyone''s attention. He revealed a box hidden behind the chair, laying it down for all to see. "It won''t be much, but it will teach you a lot about responsibility. To stay in House Mars, you''ve got to contribute. Whether it''s a job on-world or a gig from the academy''s guild, we need bread."

    Axel''s protest filled the room. "You expect me, the blood of noble knights, to degrade myself with peasant work?" he snapped, fixing a piercing gaze on Edward.

    "If you wish to stay," Ed retorted, "you will need to contribute in some way. Whether it''s combat or financial. We do not have the room to spare for people who merely wish to wade through their four years."

    Axel huffed in response, this time withholding his words. Ed continued, "The year is going to start soon, and House Mars, for the first time in over two hundred years, is weak. We do not have the power we used to have."

    A melancholy undertone hung in the air, a shadow cast by the weight of their shared destinies. The boys, sons of once-great fathers, now faced an unexpected turn of fate. Promised a place in humanity''s grandest crusade, they found their dreams shattered, their futures unraveling. Funny how life played its tricks, weaving paths that led them all back to this moment, to each other. But, as Ed knew, one cannot escape their past.

    Ed sighed, his gaze drifting across the room. "I''m going to focus on forming allies, however, you all must help me."

    "Help you?" Axel interjected with a sneer. "Our big president doesn''t have it all together," he added, feigning shock.

    Ed met Axel''s gaze with narrowed eyes. "Who even made you the leader anyway?" Axel challenged.

    "I was made leader when I was shamed in front of the school," Ed snapped, pointing accusingly at Axel. "Even you, who boasts and throws his lot around with talks of Martian nobility, didn''t even stand with me. No, the whole lot of you merely watched, and I bet many of you only came back here because there was no other option."

    A heavy silence fell upon them, the truth of Ed''s words hanging in the air. Ed thrust a thumb toward his chest. "It was me that did it. None of you, not a single one, had the pride to bear your colors. But it''s okay. I do."

    Tyson couldn''t shake the unease settling within him. Ed''s tone shifted, from leader to something more, something that made them feel guilty. Ed had a knack for forcing them to confront memories they''d rather forget. Tyson wondered if Ed was unlocking something buried within them.

    Silence lingered, and Ed sighed, realizing he had quelled Axel''s attempt at rebellion. Small sparks needed swift extinguishing; otherwise, the flame of defiance would spread. It was a lesson passed down from Ed''s father, a lesson of strength and leadership.

    "I''ll talk to each of you individually later. We have much to discuss, and I want to get to know you all. We have a long four years," Ed concluded.

    As the others began to disperse, Ed rose from his chair. "Arthur, can you show Ty to one of the spare rooms?" he requested.

    Arthur nodded. "Come on, Tyson," he called out.

    Yet, Tyson hesitated. "Thank you, Edward," he said with a smile. "Even though I''m a mutant, I really appreciate it."

    Ed smiled in return. "No need," he replied. "If you want to thank me, bring honor to this house."

    Tyson beamed. "I will," he declared as he and Arthur left the room. As they ascended the stairs, another figure lingered behind.

    Ed found himself locking eyes with Joseph. "Can I help you?" he asked.

    Joseph paused, and Ed''s gaze shifted downward to find Joseph standing there. Ed studied him for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked.

    Ed''s eyes narrowed; they were alone now, and Joseph just stood there, gazing at him. Did Joseph lie about his identity? Did he come for something else, something more malevolent?

    Ed was well-versed in the histories of the universe, knowledgeable about the conflicts that Mars had within the galaxy. Whether within the emperor''s court, conflicts with the CoreWorlds and MidWorlds, or perhaps a boy from Pluto daring something nefarious.

    Ed''s hand slowly moved toward his pocket, feeling the tension of his fingers unlocking the switchblade. A quick flick of his wrist, and he''d have him. Yet, Joseph spoke. "The boy..."

    Ed tilted his head like an owl, but Joseph continued, "The boy must die."

    Ed still stared at him. "What?" he announced, ready to holler because the situation was getting weirder. Joseph continued speaking, "And in his death, the knight is born. For the flesh may die, but the soul lives on..."

    "...Within the spikes of the sons," Ed finished the sentence. His eyes grew wide and alert as he took a step forward. "Are you?"

    Joseph quickly shushed him, taking rapid steps toward Ed''s right ear. "You''re the contact?" Joseph questioned.

    Ed looked at him, then vigorously nodded. "Yes," Ed stated, and a relieved sigh erupted from Edward. "Come on," Ed said again, "let''s find a more private place to discuss matters."

    Ed and Joseph both grabbed their jackets as they ventured outside. The door creaked open within the harsh torrent.

    "Are you sure you don''t want to just find a room?" Joseph asked. "There are dozens of empty rooms within the manor. We could probably..."

    Ed shook his head. "The walls are thin from the damn rats and mice sulking, eating, and... engaging in other activities ever since the fall of Mars. Joseph, I get that it''s cold and raining, but I''d rather us discuss our plans in the most private place imaginable."

    Joseph paused at that and sighed. "Yeah, you''re right."

    Ed narrowed his eyes. "What is he even thinking? Is this guy foolish enough to discuss political matters in the open? What a joke of a roster!" Ed''s thoughts echoed as he opened the door, greeted by the harsh torrent of the storm.

    Ed''s hair flew wildly, brown, nearly reddish clumps decorating his features as the rain prickled his face. They left from the backdoor, and now he faced the backyard of the House, once a grand relic of a powerful era.

    The House of The Red Moon stood at its weakest, a shadow of its former self. It was Ed''s responsibility, and that of the others, to rebuild it, their birthright more palpable for some than others.

    The backyard sprawled large and almost unfenced. A once-grand pool lay ahead, next to the ruins of an open gym, and a storage shed to the right, each structure in a different state of decay.

    The pool, filled a mere third with brackish water, revealed unsettling movements beneath its surface. The wooden fence, beaten and battered, now appeared rotting and exposed, flies swarming around it like a decomposing corpse.

    Descending the worn wooden steps, they navigated slippery rocks and mud, seeking shelter against the rain and cold by leaning on the faded red-orange shed. In the corner where the roof extended, the boys gathered to discuss their politics.

    Ed''s breath visible in the cold air, his mind briefly wandered to the woods and the hidden hangar. Would they find any Martian Pattern WarCaskets? He dismissed the thought; if his suspicions were correct, the devastation was due to Martian pride. They''d rather see their world destroyed than let its secrets fall into weaker hands.

    The clicking of a lighter interrupted Ed''s thoughts, followed by the scent of herb wafting into his nostrils. "You smoke?" Joseph inquired, taking another drag.

    Ed looked at him and sighed with a smile. "No, I''m all good," he said.

    "Sorry if it bothers you," Joseph stated, eyes on his hand as he toyed with the smoke. "After we left Mars, I settled down on a world deep in the frontier, and this was one of the many exports of that place."

    Ed chuckled. "I can handle you being chill and cool," he remarked. "I''d prefer that to what was going on inside."

    "You mean Vinnie and Axel?" Joseph questioned.

    Ed nodded. "That damned Martian pride. Our house is practically in tatters, and Axel questions my authority. Vinnie, with proper medical experience, drags his feet to become a chaplain."

    Joseph shrugged. "Remember how it was growing up on Mars. After its destruction, many of us scattered across the galaxy to different worlds. However, some did not forget what happened and their original creeds."

    Ed shook his head, but Joseph persisted. "If you''d told Vinnie you wanted him as a warrior, there wouldn''t have been any problems."

    Ed shot him a look, but Joseph pressed on. "However, you can''t blame him for this. A lot of people here are clawing to get in, and Vinnie was told he can''t do what he wants to do."

    Ed sneered. "Tough luck," he snapped. "After the fall of Mars, many of us had to adapt and adjust to our situation. Vinnie is the only one with medical training. You''ll all be thanking me when one of us is bleeding to death, and Vin saves his life."

    Joseph nodded. "You aren''t wrong, Ed," he stated. "I''m just offering how Vin probably sees it. He was destined to be a warrior, but now he''s a doctor?"

    "Chaplain," Ed corrected. "He''s not just some doctor left on the ship. He''s going to be a warrior, tasked with healing us and recovering spikes from our fallen comrades. What greater honor is there than rebuilding the red house of the moon?"

    Joseph''s eyes widened. "You... you wish to rebuild House Mars?" he asked.

    Ed paused, then nodded. "Isn''t that why you joined the rebellion?" Ed questioned, and Joseph tilted his head. "Isn''t that why you are here?"

    Joseph hesitated, taking a long hit from his smoke before dropping it to the floor and stomping out the flame and ash. His eyes were fixed on the act, and when they rose, they were a cherry red.

    "Of course," Joseph spoke.

    Edward noticed the delay. He sighed, fingers to his features. It didn''t matter; he was here and knew the code. Perhaps Joseph had other goals, fine. Ed could work with that as long as it didn''t jeopardize the safety of his house and the grand plans they were destined to orchestrate. Everyone had to pull their weight. House Mars didn''t have the luxury of free servants or regular donations. There was no time to argue; now was the time to focus and do what had to be done. Ed refused to let his house crumble. There was always hope, no matter how dim ¨C hope in the ability to rebuild.

    "How are you feeling about Tyson?" Ed asked.

    Joseph paused, then shrugged. "He seems like a good guy. When I let him into the house, he had good manners."

    Ed shrugged. "Axel had something to say about his mutation."

    Joseph sneered and shook his head. "Rotten business that was," he snapped. Anger flared on his features, yet he kept it hidden. Ed knew Joseph was being cautious. They were still relatively strangers, and the majority were untested. But the spikes spoke of power, and that power was almost divine. It could forge weapons to restore the honor of his home.

    "Tyson," Joseph repeated. "Ember Knights. They were a proud knight order. Skilled in battle. My father spoke of them."

    "My father as well," Ed replied.

    "I''ve heard rumors that their spikes had this passive mutation, like a wizard feeling the emotions of others. They could take away pain, even rid those of..." Joseph paused, his hand moving to his face, fingers tracing the corners as his eyes slowly opened, revealing a shade of red. Joseph removed his hand and looked at Ed. "You know that Tyson got saved."

    "Huh?" Ed questioned. "Not many people would help a mutant."

    Joseph shrugged. "This guy did," he said. "He saved Ty twice, once from a pair of bullies, and another from a group of three. Beat the crap out of all of them."

    Ed whistled. "Must''ve been a guy. Would''ve killed to have someone like that on the team."

    "Really?" said Joseph. "There''s a difference between street fights and actually being in the thick of it all."

    Ed shrugged. "Look at Axel. He''s got the spikes, descends from one of the greatest warriors, yet he''s dressed in the richest of silks."

    Joseph''s eyes widened. "You think that..."

    Ed shrugged. "As president, it''s my duty to make sure the House stays safe. Right now, I''m keeping everyone at arm''s length to know who I can trust and who I can''t."

    Joseph looked at him. "Am I on that list?"

    Ed nodded, and Joseph smirked. "Then, you''ll make a good leader. I could already imagine what you know of my purpose."

    Ed nodded along, and Joseph smirked with a smile.

    "What was that guy''s name, by the way?" Ed asked, and Joseph turned to look at him. "I know, I know. People are only coming to the house as a last resort. Heck, I''ve even heard of people who already went back home due to not getting accepted into any of the houses, but they never even checked ours."

    Joseph chuckled. "Sucks to be them," he stated. "I''ll take the emperor''s right hand rather than be sent back."

    "Still, what was the name?" Ed asked.

    And Joseph turned to him, uttering a word that caused Ed''s eyes to widen. "Henryk."

 Chapter 11 - The Machinations of The Vice Headmasters

    In the shadowed annals of Orcan, a world named for Ser Wayde Orcan the First, a lord distinguished in the throes of war, the planet''s future lay entwined with the echoes of its past. A cosmic tapestry woven with threads of futuristic medievalism unfolded across the sprawling expanse, where the Orcans held dominion. A colossal central city stood as testament to progress, while on the untamed frontiers, the land bore witness to a darker age. Carts traversed the plains, drawn by horses and peculiar creatures that lurked in the planet''s depths.

    But within the heart of Orcan''s legacy, the Academy emerged as a beacon of knowledge. Rain slashed across the plains as Headmaster Wayde Orcan the Sixth gazed pensively through the opulent window of his expansive chamber. His steel eyes fixed upon the violet streaks that marred the sky, the ominous portent of a shifting destiny.

    Draped in a crisp, bluish-white suit, Wayde occupied his chamber, its walls embracing a deep blue fireplace and a companion in a velvet red suit. Both men boasted finely groomed beards as they contemplated the future.

    "Xarl, how do you find this year''s selection?" Wayde''s voice cut through the silence, his eyes probing the gathering storm within the academy grounds.

    Xarl nonchalantly shrugged, "Not many pique my interest."

    "Really?" Wayde spat, turning slowly to face his companion.

    Shrugging again, Xarl rose from his chair. "If you''re referring to the boys who saved your daughter, perhaps."

    A taut silence hung between them as Wayde''s piercing gaze bored into the depths of the academy. Xarl watched him intently, noting the signs of exhaustion and sweat etched across Wayde''s countenance.

    "Do not underestimate me, Xarl. I''m well aware of the whispers below," Wayde chuckled, stepping away from the window.

    Xarl regarded him with a blank expression. "Something ails you, Wayde. What is it?"

    Wayde paused, breath hurried. "Don''t revel in my weakness," he snapped, coughing into his fist.

    A sly smirk crept across Xarl''s face. "I''m not a fan of this particular flavor, Wayde. There''s something distinctly wrong with you, isn''t there?" he questioned, his breath hot and hurried.

    Staring into Xarl''s narrowed eyes, Wayde could only mutter, "Abomination. You won''t inherit my family''s legacy." He coughed once more, the fragility of his condition laid bare.

    "How''s it feel, knowing your body''s turning traitor on you?" Xarl sneered, the venom in his words dripping like acid. "Instead of biting the dust in some honorable battle, you''ll be kicking it in a damn bed. Pathetic, like a feeble old man, leaving your kid to become an orphan..."

    Anger surged through Wayde, and he balled his fist, ready to strike. But weakness nearly crumpled him. Here, in his own damn home, it had come to this. The legacy of his family, the heroes who stood against extraterrestrial threats, now tainted by his defeat at the hands of an abomination.

    The door creaked open, and Xarl spun to face the intruder. A sardonic chuckle escaped him. "The dwarf," he mused.

    The dwarf ambled in, the door swinging shut behind him, and the distant crackle of lightning punctuating the tension. Shorter than the average man, his confidence overshadowed his stature, even making Xarl''s smirk falter a bit.

    His silvered smirk held as he gazed with his lone eye, the other concealed by bandages. Faint burns adorned his face, a testament to battles fought, but his features remained relatively unscathed. His well-placed features and tidy beard bespoke a seasoned warrior.

    Clad in black power armor with a shimmering indigo gleam, an SMG resting casually on his shoulder, his cloak''s tips flickering like a bright fire, the dwarf spoke with deliberate intent. "Been on a mission for three months, didn''t even get to see my family. Now I''m back to deal with this mess."

    His words hung in the air as he locked eyes with Xarl. The room fell into a charged silence, the trio pausing in their steps.

    Orcane, recovering from his near-collapse, wheeled himself back toward his desk. The two men faced each other as they advanced.

    "Wondering why you''re here?" Orcane spat the question out.

    Xarl shot back, "You''re dying."

    "Yeah, way to make it creepy," Des quipped, turning toward Orcane. "So what? You''re old. We knew you''d croak one of these days."

    Orcane''s sweat glistened, but he sighed and chuckled. "Nah, that''s not what we''re discussing here." He rolled his eyes and sank deeper into his chair. "I''m dying."

    Silence swallowed the room, lightning crackling in the distance as the bronze lights of the great headmaster''s office flickered. Desmond rose, the question lingering on his lips.

    "One to two years," Orcane answered before Desmond could voice it. "Not much time." Xarl cut in, "Now, the real question is..."

    "What''s gonna happen to the academy? You bunch being off on your little escapades, not keeping us in the loop, I reckon I gotta spill the beans," Orcane declared, his presence looming over the two men like a storm gathering on the horizon.

    "The succession race is gonna play out a bit differently this time," he revealed, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thick fog.

    Des rolled his eyes, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. "Really?" he scoffed, eyes dancing with self-assurance.

    Xarl shot him a glance, a snicker escaping his lips. But Orcane wasn''t done laying out the new rules. "We ain''t diving into a vote for the new headmaster this time. No, I fancy a more old-fashioned approach," he announced.

    "Old-fashioned?" Desmond echoed, an incredulous look directed at Orcane. Des shrugged, but Xarl relished the dwarf''s wide-eyed surprise. This was a curveball he hadn''t seen coming.

    Des pressed on. "So, you''re telling me we ain''t all chipping in for a vote. No candidacy or¡ª"

    Orcane waved off Des''s protests. "No more of that. We''re gonna harken back to the ways of the academy''s forefathers."

    A silence settled among them. "What do you mean by that, James?" Desmond inquired, sensing the gravity of the impending change.

    Orcane rubbed the back of his neck, bracing for their reaction. "In the days of yore, the headmaster''s seat passed down from father to son, a neat little tradition. But due to some pesky imperial laws, it got a bit more... discreet. Now, with my impending demise, the vice headmasters are throwin'' their hats in the ring. Whoever snags the spot inherits the planet and all my belongings."

    Desmond fell silent, eyes widening as if the weight of the revelation nearly knocked him off his feet. "You''ve been arranging marriages?" he uttered in disbelief.

    Xarl''s eyes widened as well. "Orcane, you sly dog. Even you, breaking imperial taboos," he remarked with a sickly smirk.

    "What?" Des asked, clueless.

    Xarl shot him a pointed look. "How do you think we''re gonna inherit the world and the loot? Through the daughter." His smirk twisted, first at Des and then at Orcane. "Through your daughter."

    Des stared, jaw dropping, while Orcane could only stare down at his desk. The mutterings began, either apologies or excuses, but Des didn''t wait for either.

    "No," he spat, shaking his head. The word hung in the air, an abhorrent rejection. "No!" he yelled, his voice escalating into a vehement protest as he turned sharply toward Orcane.

    "What are you playing at, Orcane?" Des half yelled, half loathed the words that hung in the air. How could he? Why would he? "Orcane, she''s your flesh and blood... your only kin."

    Orcane remained silent, while Xarl chuckled to himself. "She can''t lead, and if someone else can..." he trailed off, leaving Des grappling with the shocking revelation.

    "Setting up your own flesh and blood for an arranged marriage," Des spat, his hand thrusting accusatorily toward Orcane''s chest. Each word dripped with disdain as he rose from his seat, fixing a piercing gaze on the headmaster.

    Xarl chuckled, his attention shifting back to Orcane. "And the rest of the vice-headmasters are on board with this?" he inquired.

    Des shot him a disdainful look. "Yeah, are they okay with it?" Des snapped, wheeling back toward Orcane. "If any imperial heralds or, gods forbid, the inquisition catch wind of¡ª"

    "The moment the eunuch emperor ascended, the game changed," Orcane interrupted, his tone weighted with the burden of history.

    They eyed him skeptically, but Des erupted, slapping Orcane across the face with a force that sent the taller man reeling, nearly colliding with his desk. In a swift motion, Des had climbed onto the table, locking eyes with Orcane in an intense standoff.

    "Do you grasp the enormity of what you''re about to unleash? Damn Sirine''s recklessness. She''s been wild since she was a kid, but marrying her off to one of us? It''s disgusting," Des seethed.

    "I understand," Orcane conceded, and his words tumbled out in a sigh. "Sirine, she''s more than just wild. There''s something about that girl that defies reason. She ain''t right, and lately, she''s been scaring the hell out of me with her actions," he confessed.

    Des studied him, but Orcane pressed on. "She''s from the elite, pampered and cared for. Yet, she''s running off into space. I''m sick, battling cancer, and my own daughter knows it but chooses to wander the outer reaches. I''ve even heard whispers that the only reason she''s alive is thanks to some frontier yokel."

    A somber weight hung in Orcane''s words. "Do you really want her to inherit my throne, the academy?" he posed to Des.

    Des held his gaze but released the graying strands of hair from his grip. "That''s the easy way out," he spat, settling back into his chair. "There''s always another solution."

    "Well, it seems good old Orcane is too ill to seek another solution," Xarl interjected, shooting an amused look at the ailing headmaster. Xarl lounged in the recliner, hands clasped behind his neck, his gaze fixed curiously on Orcane. "How about you spill the real reason Desmond and I are here? Why he''s not snuggled up with his warm wife, and why I haven''t indulged in the red-light district."

    Orcane touched his nose, turning to Des. "Inheritance is taking a different turn this year. With no heir apparent, whoever wins gets the chance to marry my daughter for power and the keys to the planet. Does that pique your interest?" he posed to Des.

    Desmond kept his arms wrapped tightly around himself, his gaze like frozen heat rays trained on Orcane. "You don''t have to marry her if you don''t want to," Orcane suggested. "It could be you, or a brother, or perhaps... a son."

    Desmond''s eyes widened at the revelation, a flicker of surprise and then a slow relaxation settling into his posture. A brief, quiet chuckle escaped Xarl, swift and subtle, going unnoticed by the others in the room.

    Orcane delved beneath his desk, producing a cauldron. It sprawled across the surface, not deep but wide, its darkness seemingly bottomless as Des and Xarl peered into its depths.

    "What is this?" Xarl inquired.

    "A pot," Orcane retorted, a hint of sarcasm tainting his words. He continued, "This year, each of you will be assigned a house. Your task: forge a new champion."

    "A champion?" Des echoed. "You wanted us to train heroes, and¡ª"

    "Heroes," Orcane interrupted, shaking his head. "Yes, I wanted you to train and mold the next generation. However, for these two years, not only will you guide your students, but within this goblet lies the name of a specific house. Seek out a champion, one who outshines their peers, and refine their skills."

    "How do we determine the winner?" Xarl huffed.

    "Well, the day I breathe my last, you''ll need to appoint a new headmaster. That will mark the end of the competition. As for the winner, the rankings will unveil the truth."

    "The rankings?" Des questioned, eyes widening. "You want to revive the rankings?" he asked.

    Orcane nodded solemnly. "It''s the only true measure of the best of the best. The champion in the top three, or better yet, holding the golden spot, after my demise will be declared the winner. Whether it''s them, or one of you. The academy, the planet, and my bloodline entwined... everything shall be yours."

    A cold silence settled, like a blade cutting through the air. The only sounds were the wind''s wild dance against the windows and the subdued crackle of the distant fireplace casting its amber glow over those present.

    Des''s annoyance lingered on his features, but the talk of inheritance dulled the earlier apprehension. The academy, a legacy passed down for centuries, had mostly followed a patriarchal tradition¡ªfather to son, son to father. Now, it shifted to father to daughter. Des found Orcane''s reluctance to let his daughter lead more repugnant than the prospect of her marrying someone like Xarl.

    "And what''s inside the goblet?" Xarl pressed.

    "Fate," Orcane declared.

    "Fate?" both men echoed. Des took the lead in the conversation. "So, are we allowed to pick our champions and such?"

    Orcane nodded solemnly. "Yes, you can, but the house will be chosen at random," he clarified, directing his attention toward the cup.

    "The goblet," Des spat, injecting a sharp note into his voice.

    Orcane acknowledged with a nod. "Due to your ongoing missions and responsibilities, you were excluded from the earlier discussion and the grand meeting."

    Des chuckled to himself. "Sounds like a real snooze fest," he remarked with a smirk, a surprising chuckle escaping even Xarl, who displayed an unusually toothy grin in silent amusement.

    Orcane dismissed the comment with a wave. "There are only two other planets, and please refrain from discussing or revealing anything. Secrecy is paramount in this matter."

    "Thought this was just a little game," Des said. "Didn''t realize we''d have to keep this on the down-low," he added, a silver gleam in his smile.

    "Is anything at the academy ever normal?" Xarl commented, his fingers diving into the goblet. He retrieved a slender piece of parchment, held it between both hands, and without hesitation unfolded and scrutinized its contents.

    Xarl''s laughter reverberated within the room. His eyes widened, and he rose from his seat. "Now, this is truly cause for celebration," he declared.

    Des merely snickered and shook his head. "You''re acting all excited, but I bet you drew Earth or Pluto..."

    Xarl''s features momentarily shifted into a visage of anger, but he swiftly replaced it with his characteristic smirk. "Okay, dwarf," he spat, making his exit from the room.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Now, Des and Orcane were alone. The goblet stood like an invisible barrier between them as Des stared at the older man.

    Des''s small hands raked through his unruly black hair. "Why are you doing this?" he questioned. Orcane remained silent, mute, observing him with his brown eyes.

    Des''s hand descended to his lone right eye, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Your daughter, your only child, your only daughter. I could never... Amelia and I have our disagreements, but I could never fathom going to her with Mycah in my arms, telling her he''ll never be allowed to shape his destiny, not even in matters of the heart."

    Orcane stayed silent, and Desmond realized it only fueled his anger. His fingers curled into fists. "Do you not comprehend the consequences of what you''re about to do? Has the cancer spread to your brain, robbing you of reason?"

    Orcane tilted his head to meet Des''s gaze. "I am doing this because Sirine needs someone strong and capable to guide her and lead the academy. I love my daughter, but..."

    Des slammed his hand across the table. Photos and the black goblet were sent crashing to the floor, and the remaining wine at the edge spilled in a dark red stain on a priceless rug.

    "Don''t you dare," Des snapped, a pointed finger aimed squarely at Orcane''s features. "There''s always a choice, and you''re choosing to risk marrying your daughter off to someone like Xarl."

    Orcane''s eyes widened, his hand instinctively reaching to the side of his head. "Willful as your daughter, does she deserve a husband like Xarl... and what of me if I win?" he snapped back.

    Silence fell over Orcane, the fight drained out of him, leaving only a vulnerable man. Des went in, verbally demolishing the older man. Orcane deserved every word for contemplating something viewed as abhorrent, a violation of the ''Imperial Abhorrants.''

    Des''s next words emerged heavy and contorted, rage barely held at bay. "An arranged marriage," he uttered with a chuckle that held a darker undercurrent. "Do you not realize just how wrong this will be if someone outside the academy''s circle finds out? God forbid a house like Earth catches wind of it and brings it to the Emperor!"

    Orcane attempted to wave it away, but Des pressed on.

    "No, you don''t get to wave it away," Des snapped. "You don''t get it. You, Sirine, and the poor sap who marries her. If they find out this was arranged, they''ll cull the bloodline from the start, purging what''s deemed pure and what isn''t. The gods of Old Earth, the Gods of The New Universe¡ªall view this as abhorrent. If you go through with this, the universe, the gods, old or new, will come for you and your kin. Your line will burn, the gods will rend any kin as illegitimate or malformed."

    In the colonization and cleansing of the stars, the Emperor had emerged with his royal family, establishing laws across planets that touched the light of his realm. One law, fundamental to his majesty''s imperium, explicitly outlawed arranged marriages. Gods and religions did not endorse such practices, and stepping outside this law would render any bloodline illegitimate. Grave consequences loomed. Yet, in the shadows of the galaxy, where eyes didn''t pry, abhorrent deeds were mere play.

    "Even if I did win," Des interrupted Orcane''s thoughts, sighing and wrapping his arms around himself. "I am already happily married. So, I guess I have to be excluded from this whole thing."

    "Really?" Orcane repeated. "You have the opportunity for riches beyond your wildest dreams, and you¡ª"

    "Orcane, I''ve been married for years. I have a home, and I''ve served an empire that loathed me due to my dwarfism since I was a boy. I''m sick of the politics, the machinations, and the death."

    Des paused, his hand going to his heavily bandaged eye. A grimace etched across his face, and he slammed his hand once again on the table. "Before all this, I was planning on handing you my two-week notice."

    Orcane remained silent for a moment, a heavy air lingering between him and Des. The latter sighed, standing up from his seat. "I have no interest in going through with this."

    "Des, please," Orcane begged, desperation seeping into his voice.

    Des stared at him, a shift in his emotions evident. The desperation in Orcane''s plea struck a chord within him. "What''s going on with you, James?" Des asked, eyeing the sickly headmaster. "Is this truly all about the cancer and..."

    Orcane shook his head. "Des, you are the only one that I trust. You are the only one I''m willing to trust with the academy. If we hadn''t lost contact during the mission, I would''ve..."

    "You would''ve just named me as your successor," Des finished with a facepalm.

    "Correct," Orcane admitted.

    "...and I''d still throw it all away," Des spoke, turning his gaze out the window. "I have a happy life, Orcane. I am a dwarf, but I can live and teach here. I am a dwarf, but I have a wonderful wife and now a beautiful son. I''m not going to throw my life and blessings away¡ªobvious blessings from the gods and the universe¡ªfor what? To marry a girl that''s not even half my age, a girl that''s old enough to be my daughter practically."

    "Someone that could''ve been an older sister to your son," Orcane randomly remarked.

    Des''s earlier arguments fell silent as an eerie quiet settled upon them. "What are you talking about?" Des questioned.

    "She''s too young for you, but not too young for your son," Orcane said.

    Des''s eyes widened. "My son is five years old," he snapped.

    "If you win, then you can..."

    Des was already walking out. "Enough of this, I''m done with this petty argument. No, I''m not going to let your eighteen-year-old daughter marry my five-year-old son."

    Orcane rose from his seat. "I won''t pressure your son into anything. If anything must happen, they can wait until your son reaches his eighteenth birthday."

    Des shot him a look. "Does this not disgust you, the way you speak?" Des spat, inching closer as his words radiated malevolence. "There''s disgust in how you treat and speak of your daughter like a sow, but you, James Orcane, are taking it too far by involving my own son in this."

    Des had risen, but Orcane seized the cuff of his power armor. "Please," Orcane begged, his back slouching. "You are the only one I can trust in this. You are the only one I believe should inherit this academy."

    Des fell silent. "Then, why didn''t you..."

    Orcane''s eyes fell downward, and Des glared at him, slowly grasping the grim reality unfolding. "Even after we reached the stars," Des began to monologue, a dissonant smile forming. "Us humans always need violence and combat to prove our strength."

    "No one would follow a dwarf," Orcane spoke, hesitating. "But a dwarf that..."

    "A dwarf that proved himself in his superiority as a teacher, then, it is shown his truth. Only one who is able to train a champion deserves to be Headmaster."

    Orcane delivered those words, leaving Des utterly silenced as he narrowed his eyes at his mentor. "So, this whole game is meant to test me. Well, sorry, James, I have no need or any wish to get involved in this pissing contest," he paused and sighed. "You still are going to pay my tenure and pension. This was the last mission, and now you orchestrated this... for what, to lure me into being a pawn in this big game of yours?"

    Des was disgusted, and a yawn erupted from the base of his chest. James rushed to speak, but Des instantly silenced him with a lone raised hand. "James, I am sick and tired of it all," his words were cold, and his brown eye locked onto James. "I have been fighting for years, I have been in combat for years. I only took this teaching job for the benefits it provided, but I am getting older... I have a family now. I know that in this big galaxy, there are many things that one can lose and never reattain, and do you want to know what it is?"

    James paused, and he stared at him. "What?" Orcane asked.

    "Family," Des finished off, tapping his palm along the table once again. "Whether by blood or by trust, family. I have lost brothers, sisters, and paternal figures in my life. I have no wish to die within some political machination that I was a pawn of; I have no wish to risk my family''s lives. Orcane, just write me my final paycheck... please."

    And Orcane truly saw him now¡ªthe dwarf, once proud, who had risen through the ranks on skill and merit alone. Now, look at him. Burn wounds adorned his body, a matted bandage covering his left eye. Had he lost it?

    Orcane realized the selfishness and wrongness of it all. Conversing with his friend and prot¨¦g¨¦ about marrying off his daughter, threatening her with a forced union if Des refused. He was no fool; he knew about his staff members, difficult to control and often vying for power within the academy. An image of Xarl flashed in his mind. Could he let someone like Xarl marry his daughter and inherit the family''s wealth and fortune?

    No, Xarl was too weak to control the academy and his daughter. Orcane raised his gaze toward Des, and his grip on his hand tightened. He didn''t know. No one would believe him, even if he did. Sirine, that monstrous daughter¡ªhow had he created such a thing?

    Des sighed, the will to fight and argue draining from him. The toll of his earlier mission weighed heavily. He still had to heat up his dinner in the fridge and double-check the nest of wounds across his form.

    "Please, Des," Orcane begged one final time. However, the man''s form halted, and he raised his gaze towards Des. "You can leave, but at the very least, see what''s inside the goblet. See what house you would choose."

    Des''s features contorted into annoyance. "I don''t give a damn what planet I get stuck with. Orcane, you are asking me to break one of the founding laws of our empire. Are you even thinking of the¡ª"

    Orcane flashed a smirk. "It just sounds like you''re scared," he spoke, regarding Des with a timid smirk. "Let the gods decide. I won''t force you into anything anymore, but you''ve got to wonder about what you''ve got."

    Des stared into the goblet for a moment, then shifted his gaze back towards Orcane. "Do you take me for such a fool?" Des spoke, almost tiredly.

    "No," Orcane spat out just as plainly, and he raised the black goblet towards Des. "However, I''ve always known you for a betting man."

    "A betting man?" Des repeated with a chuckle and a sigh. His small hand went along his features. "Have you gone mad or something? Am I going to wake up with an apology call due to you¡ª"

    "Des," Orcane interrupted, staring heat rays into the opposite man. "Take it... whether or not you wish to join, take it."

    Des stared at the pot, his eyes rolling as he felt around the bottom of the goblet. His eyes widened as he could only feel one slip of paper.

    "Where are the others?" asked Des. "I could feel only one."

    Orcane sighed. "Due to you and Xarl not being here for the earlier meeting, you already missed out on the main chunk of planets, and Xarl already picked his, so there is only one last one..."

    Des rolled his eyes as his fingertips locked along the strand of paper. "So, who''s the last one then?"

    Orcane stared at him as he rested the goblet back down. "You want me to tell you?" Orcane asked.

    Des shrugged his shoulders, speaking as he started to unfold the piece of parchment. "Yeah, there is only this one. What do I got?"

    Orcane shook his head. "That''s not how this works. I wanted to keep this fair and make it a secret, but it''s your decision if you tell the others about which house you''ll find your champion in."

    Des shook his head. "Even if I was interested in all this. You''d think those pricks wouldn''t utilize the information I give them and weaponize it?"

    Orcane was silent at that, and Des''s lone brown eye went wide as he read the contents within the paper. A violent groan erupted from his core as he shook his head wildly. "What''s wrong?" questioned Orcane, but Des had already turned around and started marching.

    "Thank you, Mr. Orcane," spoke Des sarcastically. "By this time, I could''ve had warm food in my belly alongside a nice warm beer, and my beautiful wife would''ve been sleeping next to me. However, you just wasted my time. Prepare to see my letter of resignation first thing tomorrow on your computer."

    Des slammed the massive wooden doors shut as he departed from Orcane''s manor. His footsteps reverberated in the empty halls, resonating with the storm''s echoes. The vibrant lights of the students had dimmed, lost in the night''s revelries.

    The weight of choosing pressed upon him yet again. The hollowness of lost students haunted Des as he ventured outside. Clark, his blond-haired driver, awaited with car keys in hand and a deep blue valet jacket. "Hello, Sir Desmond," greeted Clark.

    Des offered a tired smile, etched with pain. "Come on, Clark," he said, sighing, opening the door, and sinking into the bright red cushions of the car. "Get me out of here. I want to see my family."

    Clark nodded, and they sped off into the rain-drenched night. The city''s towering structures and neon lights stretched into the sky, offering a breathtaking sight.

    To Des, the city held an allure that filled him with childlike wonder. Clark chuckled at his fascination. "How was the meeting, boss?" he inquired.

    Des groaned, drawing another laugh from Clark. "Did the big man give you any trouble or complaints?" Clark glanced at Des''s heavily bandaged eye. "Can''t believe he''d hassle you after coming home with that."

    Des''s groan deepened, words tumbling out. "Tell me about it," he replied. "Sometimes, a man just needs a bit of peace, but those around him drag him into their troubles."

    "Boss, anything troubling you?" Clark asked, turning momentarily.

    Des chuckled, a smirk forming. "What are you smiling about?" Clark questioned.

    "Well, Clark, my dear boy. If I told you about the mess of a meeting I had," Des leaned back, hand resting on his holstered sidearm, "I''d have to kill you," he joked.

    Clark sighed, Des chuckling in response. "You''re not funny, boss," Clark retorted.

    "Really?" Des dismissed. "I find myself a bit witty and humorous at times. Surprise is a powerful tool."

    "Really," Clark responded, amused. "My dad raised me not to be a clown or act like one, period."

    "Yes, my dear boy," Des mused. "But there''s a distinction between acting and truly being a clown. Sometimes in this world, we don''t have the luxury. But maybe, in acting, you can make your reality something more."

    The car idled in the silence that gripped it, and Clark broke the quiet with a thoughtful remark. "That''s an interesting piece of advice, boss."

    "Yeah, but trust me...sometimes, acting can turn you into something more than what you actually are," Des replied, his words hanging in the air like an elusive promise.

    Clark nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "A lie is still a lie, and such a big lie like that...won''t that hurt the people you surround yourself with? Wouldn''t that have them not trust you?"

    A lingering silence clung between the two men, severed only when the car powered down abruptly. Des turned to gaze out of the window; they had arrived. The small complex differed from the city''s towering skyscrapers, resembling a more modest mid-world. Des opened the door, and the rain intensified, its ferocity doubling.

    "What''s your plan for tonight, Clark?" Des inquired with the door still ajar.

    "Aw, boss," Clark dismissed with a grin. "The usual!"

    Des smirked and chuckled. "You''re going to make your way to the red-light district?"

    Clark flexed his arms in mock bravado. "Well, there''s a reason why they love you over there," Des retorted as he walked away after closing the door. His cloak, torn and bedraggled in the rain, hinted at the challenges he faced. Yet...

    "Boss," Clark called out.

    "Yes, Clark," Des responded.

    Clark hesitated, his gaze momentarily dropping to the wheel. As Des approached, Clark''s eyes rose to meet his. "I don''t know, boss," he confessed, shrugging his shoulders. "Ever since we touched planetfall again, I haven''t exactly been feeling all right."

    Des sighed and shrugged. "What you''re feeling is the new year jitters; everyone gets them," he tried to reassure, sensing the turmoil in Clark''s eyes.

    Clark shook his head. "Maybe, boss, but I''ve heard word from the populace about what''s been going on here. They''re saying that this new year is different than the last couple."

    Des fell silent. They had returned from a mission not long ago, and while Clark had more opportunities to engage with people, Des had retreated to lick his wounds for a reason.

    Clark continued, "I''ve heard that Sirine, the headmaster''s daughter of all things, ran away, and some students had to come rescue her. I''ve been hearing all manner of weird things from the academy."

    Des sighed, shook his head, and Clark pressed on with his revelations, only to be silenced abruptly by a curt clap from Des. And then, silence reclaimed its dominion.

    "Clark, I appreciate your unwavering loyalty these past two years. You''ve been an invaluable ally. But I can''t fathom why you persist in this," Des muttered, his voice strained.

    "Mary Grace..." Clark whispered, his words carrying an undercurrent of something unnerving.

    "Mary Grace," Des echoed, memories of a woman and darker recollections flashing through his mind. "Clark, you can''t possibly..."

    Clark''s silence was punctuated by the relentless rain, yet his fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. "You once said you admired my stubbornness," he replied, a hint of desperation in his voice.

    Des sighed, a chilling chuckle escaping him. "It''s landed you in more trouble than you realize."

    "Yet, I won''t stop," Clark insisted, determination resonating. "There are students in that school who need us, who need me, who need you." His words hung in the air like a haunting melody.

    Des fell silent, the weight of the unspoken truth stifling the atmosphere. "We''ve discussed this before," he said, lifting both arms in an attempt to dispel the looming discomfort. "Clark, this was our last mission, our final obligation to this wretched world."

    Drawing closer, Des leaned in, trying to escape the unseen shadows creeping around them. "You''re too young to be stuck in this. This job usually doesn''t lead to a life of love or family. It''s not too late to lead a normal life, Clark."

    Yet, Clark remained silent, an unsettling stillness in the car. "Did... did something happen to you on the mission?" Des inquired cautiously, sensing the disquiet.

    Clark''s eyes remained fixed on the wheel before shifting back to Des. "I''ve already told you..." His words dripped with an unsettling intensity. "I''ve told you what I saw, what changed everything."

    Des''s gaze hardened, desperately attempting to dismiss the haunting revelations. "Enough," he interjected, his tone cutting through the eerie silence. The rain intensified, a spectral shroud enveloping them.

    Clark remained defensive, raising a finger. "I know what I saw."

    Des shook his head, turning halfway to face Clark. "What you saw was likely a nightmare, a manifestation of a weary mind. An illusion, nothing more."

    "I saw something before we left for that mission. The Darkness, I saw something within it," Clark''s voice quivered with a chilling certainty. "That boy, that damned boy, of scales and fire and spikes. And that golden horde that followed after him..."

    Des swallowed hard, his mind racing to comprehend the unsettling visions that seemed to emerge from Clark''s consciousness. The rain cascaded over the car like a spectral veil, distorting the world outside.

    Clark''s eyes gleamed with an eerie intensity. "I wasn''t dreaming, Des. It was real. I felt it¡ªfelt him. This boy, with eyes that held the abyss and a presence that defied explanation."

    Des shifted uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to dismiss the disconcerting images painted by Clark''s words. "Clark, it''s not uncommon for our minds to play tricks on us after a mission. Stress, fatigue¡ª"

    Clark''s laughter, tinged with a touch of madness, cut through the air like a discordant melody. "Stress and fatigue don''t birth visions of hell. I saw a place, Des, a place I can''t unsee."

    The car pressed forward, a vessel navigating through the surreal landscape of Clark''s revelations. "I was in a city, engulfed in flames. The sky, was red and black. The boy, surrounded by an army of grotesque creatures, his eyes alight with fire."

    Des felt a shiver crawl up his spine, the words weaving an otherworldly tapestry around them. "A city in flames?" he questioned, his voice barely audible over the relentless rain.

    "Fire and chaos, Des," Clark continued, his gaze unyielding. "And there was this voice, a whisper that echoed through the abyss. It spoke of destiny, of a cosmic balance disturbed. The golden horde, they were the harbingers of a reckoning."

    Des''s hands gripped the edge of his seat, his attempt to dismiss Clark''s words fading like a fleeting dream. "Clark, we''re not equipped to understand the mysteries of the universe. Our reality is grounded in the tangible, the pragmatic."

    The rain painted shimmering patterns on the pavement as Clark''s steely resolve crumbled like a forgotten monument. Des watched, his silent plea echoing in his eyes, and, for a fleeting moment, he glimpsed surrender in Clark''s gaze. A sigh slipped through the air, a weighty exhalation carrying the remnants of a conversation veiled in cryptic visions.

    "Never mind," Clark muttered, his words a defeated retreat.

    "Okay then," Des awkwardly replied. "Well, have a good night. I hope you..."

    But Clark was already gone, the car vanishing into the labyrinth of the city, leaving Des with his lone raised arm suspended in the rain. He sighed, a subtle release of tension, and turned toward the looming specter of his house. Each step on the rain-soaked stairs resonated with a melancholic rhythm as he approached the large door that guarded the entrance to his refuge.

    The foyer welcomed him with the creaking sigh of the hinges, and Des, soaked and weary, stood in the threshold. He let the door close behind him, shutting out the tempest that still raged beyond. In the flickering glow of the hallway light, his eyes sought the warmth of his family, yearning for the solace that resided within those familiar walls.

    Yet, as the door sealed off the night, Des''s mind churned, a tempest of its own. The unsettling talk of spikes and darkness, of an enigmatic boy, and a golden horde that would follow¡ªan ominous echo that seemed to foretell a consuming force that threatened to unravel the very fabric of the universe. In the confined silence of his home, Des grappled with the enigma that now clung to the shadows, casting doubt upon the semblance of normalcy he desperately sought.

 Chapter 12 - The Party of Destiny (Part I)

    In House Venus, opulence was the air they breathed. It flaunted its wealth and might through every intricate detail of its manor. Exterior walls, hewn from the very stones of Old Greece, stretched endlessly, adorned with statues that seemed to whisper tales of ancient grandeur.

    Two elongated mirrored platforms flanked the estate, revealing roads leading in and out of the academy, circled by a grand parking area. To an outsider, it was a peculiarly ostentatious abode.

    From the marble balcony atop the grand estate, a solitary figure stood, presiding over the scene. The upper chamber, a vast expanse of limestone craftsmanship, boasted a richness unmatched. The bed, swathed in luxurious crimson linens, mirrored the room''s opulence.

    The lone figure, Jace, possessed a cascade of shaggy hair brushing his neck, his porcelain skin basking in the sun''s fading embrace. With indigo eyes tracing the distant waves, he smirked, tightening his robe as he lounged in the glow.

    Below, his peers, House Venus graduates, reveled. Amidst the descending sun, laughter echoed, accompanied by the mirth of girls drunkenly immersed in the fountain¡¯s purple hues.

    As Jace soaked in the view, a soft click interrupted his reverie. ¡°Just woke up?¡± The voice prodded, and Jace, pantless, turned to face his sister, Hannah.

    ¡°Hey, sis,¡± he greeted with a grin, brushing off her arrival. ¡°Gorgeous day, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Hilarious,¡± she retorted, arms wrapping around herself. ¡°Would¡¯ve been nicer if you actually came out to enjoy it.¡±

    Jace, unfazed, roamed the room while Hannah¡¯s eyes swept the chaos: scattered clothes, kitchen clutter, and¡ª

    Her gaze landed on Jace¡¯s bed, an enigmatic woman lying there, her porcelain complexion and dark hair striking against the sheets. ¡°Who''s she?¡± Hannah inquired.

    ¡°My friend,¡± Jace casually answered, raiding the fridge for sustenance.

    ¡°A friend?¡± Hannah echoed, a trace of mockery lacing her voice.

    ¡°Can''t a guy have friends who aren''t his little sister?¡± Jace shot back.

    In a swift movement, Hannah stepped forward, gripping Jace''s chin with a fierce determination that froze him in place.

    Hannah unleashed a storm. Her rage crackled in her eyes, blazing with the intensity of a tempest. ¡°Don¡¯t dare act coy with me,¡± she seethed, her eyes wide, almost bulging. ¡°The entire House is buzzing about our name, and here you are, sloshed and gallivanting with whores.¡±

    Jace met her gaze for a fleeting moment before averting his eyes, his jaw tensing. ¡°Hannah, for¡ª¡± His words were cut off by her ferocious grip.

    ¡°Don¡¯t Hannah me,¡± she snapped back. ¡°You¡¯re up here fooling around, and for what? We have the party in a few hours.¡±

    ¡°Well, sis,¡± Jace replied with an irreverent smile, ¡°I was merely sampling the local delights.¡±

    ¡°Gross, Jace,¡± she retorted, her features wrinkling in disgust. ¡°This party has to be flawless.¡±

    ¡°It will be,¡± Jace assured, moving closer to her. His hands found her shoulders, grazing her skin beneath the v-neck, and he studied her¡ªrealizing how much she¡¯d grown. It pleased him.

    Jace¡¯s fingers trailed from her shoulder to lift her chin, meeting her gaze. A faint crimson bloomed on her cheeks as she looked at him. ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to go awry tonight,¡± he promised. ¡°For days we¡¯ve prepped, and now everyone will see our greatness. A party¡¯s spark to ignite the semester.¡±

    Hannah¡¯s hand hovered near her cheek, contemplating that perhaps her sibling had invested more thought than she¡¯d assumed. Jace smirked and playfully flicked her forehead.

    ¡°Ouch!¡± she exclaimed in pain.

    Chuckling, Jace sauntered back to the kitchen. ¡°What¡¯s your breakfast wish?¡±

    ¡°Breakfast?¡± Hannah echoed. ¡°For heaven''s sake, Jace, it¡¯s practically afternoon.¡±

    Jace rolled his eyes. ¡°The team took me out drinking after practice.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you skipped your classes,¡± Hannah scolded.

    Rummaging his stocked fridge, Jace pulled out a loaf of bread, ham wrapped in parchment, holey cheese, chopped tomatoes, salt, pepper, vinegar, and, of course, a beer. Assembling his sandwich, he cracked open a beer, offering one to his sister, who accepted with a sour expression.

    She shot him a glance, and Jace felt the tide turn. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he paused, butter knife in hand, bewildered by her sudden change.

    The air in the room hung heavy with familial tension, like a charged thunderstorm threatening to unleash its tempest. Hannah sighed, her lips pressed to the rim of the beer bottle. "Jace, you''re so absorbed in your antics, you fail to see what''s unfolding within our own walls."

    Jace groaned, recoiling. "Christ, Hannah," he protested, "I''ve just assumed the role a few days ago. Is it such a crime to take a moment to relish the position?"

    "Don''t play the fool, Jace," she shot back, her tone sharp. "There are sharks circling. Once they sense the vulnerability of our house, they''ll sink their teeth in and devour us."

    Hannah delivered those words with a fierce proximity, but Jace, ever the nonchalant provocateur, merely rolled his eyes and flashed his trademark smirk. "You worry too much, sis," he quipped, running his fingers through her hair.

    She swatted his hand away. "I''m serious, Jace," she insisted, an unexpected edge in her voice. "Whispers are spreading about you. They say the way the president lost his position was unjust."

    Pausing, she hid her eyes behind her hand, but her voice soldiered on. "Father was right. We shouldn''t have ousted him like that."

    Jace shook his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "The president¡ªdon''t make me laugh. Yes, he was a competent leader, which is why he''s reluctantly my right-hand now. People need a reality check. Would you rather have some frontier fool or the rightful heir to the planet lead you?"

    Hannah stared at him, shaking her head. "Your pride will be your undoing," she warned with a wry chuckle. "I''m not disputing your rightful place, but there''s a time and a method to eliminate your enemies."

    Chuckling, Jace retorted, "So, you agree." He took a step towards her, closing the gap to a mere inch. The indigo shade of her eyes was laid bare before him, and he smiled. "You think Maxtn and his faction are our enemies?"

    Hannah hesitated. "They are our enemies, but we need to be strategic in dealing with them."

    "Ah, poison, then," Jace quipped, his amusement echoing through the room. Hannah joined in, revealing a twisted truth in their jest.

    "No, maybe," Hannah teased, drawing a laugh from her older brother.

    "That''s the smirk," Jace observed, separating from her after tousling her hair. He returned to the sandwich, assembling the condiments.

    Hannah, now in an observer''s role, appeared more subdued, smaller. Jace studied her; since childhood, she''d always regarded him as the authoritative figure. However, in moments like this, she assumed the parental mantle between them.

    "Are you genuinely not concerned?" she asked, her tone shedding the earlier anger and disapproval.

    In the quiet confines of the room, Jace replied, ¡°Of course, I''m worried. But I won''t spend my days trembling in fear of my throne. We are the heirs of Venus, Hannah. There''s power in our blood.¡±

    She exhaled. ¡°And Maxtn?¡±

    Jace rolled his eyes. ¡°Maxtn¡ªfather and you both took issue with my ousting him from the presidency and appointing him as my advisor.¡±

    ¡°But he had only a few years left in his term, and the expectation was for you to study under him,¡± she reasoned.

    Annoyance etched his features. ¡°You think I should learn from a backwoods leader how to run this house when I''m destined to rule over him, his world, and our planet?¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± Hannah persisted. ¡°Maxtn was revered back home, and there''s talk among the high ranks surrounding father that they aren¡¯t pleased about this.¡±

    ¡°They should observe,¡± Jace declared, twirling the knife at his wrist. ¡°They should all watch, for now, it''s the reign of Jace the II of Venus. I''ve been in the WarCasket since I was nine, trained by some of the finest minds in this system. Don''t you think I have what it takes?¡±

    ¡°Christ, Jace,¡± Hannah sighed. ¡°I support you, but others doubt you. On your first day, you demanded the president resign.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ¡®demand,¡¯¡± he argued.

    ¡°It¡¯s a demand if the president''s son requests it,¡± she countered.

    ¡°I told Maxtn his contributions would be remembered and repaid in full. He''s a full citizen and will have a place by father''s side once he graduates.¡±

    Hannah remained unimpressed. As Jace stepped closer, she didn¡¯t recoil this time. His hands rested gently on her arms, just above her elbows.

    ¡°What''s troubling you?¡± he inquired.

    She hesitated. ¡°I...we''re finally at the academy, and our lives are beginning. I don¡¯t want anything bad to happen to us, to you.¡±

    ¡°You worry too much, Sis,¡± he reassured, drawing her close. His words whispered near her ear.

    ¡°Don''t fret, sis,¡± he murmured. ¡°Trust in me. The Martians are history, the Emperor is favoring House Venus, and now, we''ll rise even stronger.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± she queried, hope and pride reflected in her gaze.

    "Yeah," he replied, gazing into her indigo eyes, a mirrored universe reflecting back at him as he smiled. "I will be the one to lead our house into greater advancements and a brighter future. Hannah, I will bring the house of The Purple Snake into its true glory."

    Hours slipped away from that moment, and now the skies bore the cloak of darkness. The stars outside winked, and speculation stirred¡ªdid life thrive on these distant celestial bodies, colonized by humankind, or remnants of an ancient civilization?

    Groups of young adults, ranging from eighteen to twenty-four, ambled through the forest encircling the academy. Most adorned the uniforms of their houses, but fewer donned the gray of houselessness. Drunk or high, they weaved through the woods, their laughter and string of curses forming the melody of the night. Some seemed intent on draining the moon for their own fix. Divergent destinies guided them on their unique paths, yet the shared objective at the night''s end remained the same.

    The Sons of Mars trod the forest grounds, bumping into other groups, exchanging greetings, and forging ahead into the darkness, flashlights warding off the shadows. The woods stirred with the vibrant pulse of the academy''s student body. The distant hollers of peers, the crackle of brush under critters'' feet, all underscored the liveliness of the night.

    The Sons of Mars roared their own cheers, a concoction of excitement and inebriation as they anticipated the night ahead.

    Uniform-clad, Ed sported an additional coat covering the paint along his right sleeve and shoulder, a gray zip-up sweater protecting him from the summer chill. Axel joined them, his deep purple cloak matching his eyes. Another companion, Vinnie, completed their trio as they ventured toward the party.

    A puff of smoke escaped Edward¡¯s nose, the cigarette held with no hands as they navigated the path. ¡°This is going to be great,¡± Vinnie exclaimed, his gaze rosy, a wide smirk illuminating his features. ¡°This is going to be amazing,¡± he affirmed.

    Vinnie took a swig from his water bottle¡ªoutwardly a standard sports bottle, unknown to the observer, it now held Mercurian Ale.

    "Amazing," Axel rolled his eyes. "More like a bore."

    Vinnie chuckled. "Pretty boy doesn''t like simple parties," he responded with a daring smirk. "What, you''re too good for a party like this?"

    Axel surprisingly nodded. "Yes, I am too good for a party, or rather, a measly get-together. I''d find more enjoyment and productivity polishing my sword skills or running a combat sim in my WarCasket."

    The banter seeped venom as Vinnie prodded, ¡°Yeah, I bet. You''d love polishing off your sword. You hardly do anything back at the manor, leaving the chores to the common lot. If you¡¯d stop playing with your sword, maybe you¡¯d get more done.¡±

    Axel''s countenance darkened, catching the veiled insult. "Polishing my sword, you dare..." His voice dripped malice, fists clenching. Vinnie''s laughter filled the air, and Axel, imagining a swift, clean cut, felt his expression wane as Ed joined the mirth.

    ¡°Are you just going to let this slide?¡± Axel¡¯s tone swung between questioning and self-pity, wrapping his arms around himself as if shielding from the jibes.

    They continued walking, the conversation rolling on. ¡°He''s not entirely wrong,¡± Ed interjected.

    ¡°Entirely?¡± Vinnie echoed.

    ¡°You don¡¯t do anything, Axel,¡± Ed stated flatly. ¡°I told everyone they needed to contribute. The semester hasn''t begun, so the academy''s guild isn¡¯t fully operational yet. Tyson landed a job delivering pizzas, Vinnie¡¯s tutoring upper-class kids in chess, and you''re the only one not doing anything¡­¡±

    An audible groan escaped Axel. ¡°So what?¡± He retorted. ¡°I come from Martian royalty, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°No one cares about your ancestry or your daddy''s titles,¡± Vinnie interrupted, his annoyance palpable. He gestured around them. ¡°None of that matters anymore. All those privileges vanished when Mars got flung across the cosmos.¡±

    ¡°So what?¡± Axel jabbed a thumb toward himself. ¡°People like me are here to boss around people like you.¡±

    ¡°That''s quite the mindset,¡± Vinnie retorted. ¡°Keep that thought alive when reality hits. It''s just a way of saying you''re useless.¡±

    Axel turned, but Ed quickly stepped between them. ¡°We''re going to keep moving,¡± he declared, both boys fixing their stares on him.

    Axel grumbled, reluctantly relenting. ¡°Fine,¡± he spat, and they resumed their walk.

    ¡°What''s the point of us being out here?¡± Axel grumbled.

    Ed sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve discussed this. We need to socialize, show our house''s true colors, make alliances, fix the damage the emperor did to our reputation, remind people of our House, our planet.¡±

    ¡°Sure, Ed,¡± Axel scoffed.

    ¡°Yeah, Ed, that¡¯s going to be a real walk in the park,¡± Vinnie quipped, his smirk tight-knit.

    Vinnie pressed on, his words cutting through the wild night. ¡°You think they don¡¯t know, that they''ve forgotten all the good our grandfathers did. No, they remember and resent. The hatred''s deep, always was, but now, it''s just easier for them to show it.¡±

    A hushed silence enveloped them, interrupted only by the symphony of the forest: creaking branches, distant animal calls, and solitary streams now swelling with rain. The storm was upon them, a tempest that sliced through the air, chilling them to the bone.

    Ed''s gaze met Vinnie''s, searching for the truth. What did Vinnie truly think of Mars''s fall? Was he like Axel, wrapped in his lineage, or had he clawed his way through the ruins? There was a distinction, Ed realized, recalling Henryk''s words and his conversation with Jose.

    "Our emperor''s got his plan, and if he says traitors are traitors, I''m here to heed and serve the royal line," Henryk''s words echoed, and Ed recoiled at the notion. Axel, here only due to the spikes along his back, and even then, Axel...

    Ed scrutinized Axel, noting the well-groomed appearance¡ªclean nails, silvery-white hair, and indigo-purple eyes. Yet, Axel''s pristine exterior only accentuated the tarnish of betrayal that marred his uniform.

    Ed narrowed his eyes, contemplating if they truly needed him. A traitor to the Martian line and the true Empress, Axel''s loyalty was uncertain. In the face of adversity, would he stand firm or crumble? Could anyone be trusted, or was their brotherhood doomed, the last remnants of a dying race?

    His gaze shifted to Vinnie, a potential knight of old, his most trusted. But they were different now. Ed took a deep drag, considering the danger, the loopholes in the academy''s rules, and the need for caution.

    The argument between Vinnie and Axel drew Ed from his musings. As Axel vented, Ed felt a surge of frustration. The laughter, the insults¡ªthey all stood in silence as their brother was ostracized. Now, they expected an easy entry into their house, claiming privilege due to their Core World births.

    "I¡¯ve had enough of this!" Axel''s yell cut through the storm, snapping Ed back to the present.

    In the secluded realm of their argument, the verbal brawl between Axel and Vinnie escalated into a physical clash. Vinnie''s taunting and Axel''s fury culminated into a maelstrom of fists and curses.

    "Enough!" Axel''s cry pierced the air, igniting a brawl Ed struggled to contain. He lunged toward them, arms outstretched, attempting to grasp at flailing limbs, but his efforts were futile. He heard the venomous insults spat between the boys, felt the sting of dirt in his eyes as their struggle raged on.

    Vinnie, blood trickling from his lips, flung dirt into Axel''s face, a gesture of grim defiance. Axel retaliated, kicking away from Vinnie. Ed, exhausted and resigned, moved to a nearby fallen tree, observing the tumult while puffing on his cigarette.

    As the brawl persisted, Axel''s boot landed a decisive blow to Vinnie''s stomach, temporarily halting the skirmish. "Had enough?" Ed interjected, a trace of unintended venom lacing his words. He chided himself internally; he had to tread carefully.

    Gazing at the battered pair, once envisioned as the next generation of noble knights, now reduced to boys in a sordid scuffle, Ed exhaled a plume of smoke. Vinnie and Axel, disheveled and gasping for breath, attempted to regain their bearings.

    "What the hell''s wrong with you?" Vinnie spat, clutching his stomach. His cough was audible, his demeanor laced with disdain.

    Axel retorted, "What''s wrong? You''re the mindless one here!"

    "Mindless?" Vinnie scoffed, listing his accolades in retort. "I''ve been through high school medical training, scholarships across the solar system. Who''s the simpleton now?"

    Vinnie''s laughter echoed, his finger pointed mockingly at Axel. "The shameful knight!" he jeered. Axel, perplexed, glanced at his attire, the regal fabric that draped him. His eyes locked with Vinnie''s, searching for the source of the mockery.

    "Dressed like an emperor''s concubine," Vinnie continued, chuckling at his own jest, while even Ed couldn''t help but watch the exchange. "Maybe if you weren''t so feeble¡­ maybe, just maybe, he''d take a liking to you."

    In the midst of the chaos, Axel¡¯s sudden strike took Vinnie by surprise, spewing bile and shock across the tense scene.

    ¡°Holy crap!¡± Axel chuckled incredulously at his own audacity.

    But fury consumed Vinnie; his eyes burned with pure hatred. With a swift crawl, he lunged toward Axel, determined to unleash hell. Thunder rumbled in the sky, matching the fury in Vinnie¡¯s heart.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Ed snapped, leaping off the tree and grappling with Vinnie, a force like wrangling a rampaging beast. ¡°You¡¯re not doing anything of the sort!¡± he ordered firmly, holding Vinnie in a vice grip.

    ¡°Let me go, I¡¯ll throttle him!¡± Vinnie screamed, a tempest of anger echoing through the storm.

    ¡°You¡¯ll calm the hell down!¡± Ed insisted, his voice low and authoritative. ¡°Take a breather. We¡¯ll find a stream to clean up your dress shirt.¡±

    Vinnie fell silent, but his seething anger simmered beneath the surface. ¡°It¡¯s not over,¡± he seethed.

    ¡°It¡¯s over now because I say so,¡± Ed shot back, his gaze shifting between the two boys. Axel smirked through a bloodied lip, riling the air with tension.

    Ed sighed, fingers pressing into his forehead, striving to ease the rising pressure. He couldn¡¯t afford migraines from this turmoil.

    ¡°You¡¯re better than this,¡± Ed lectured Vinnie, trying to appeal to reason. ¡°You studied at the finest medical schools in the galaxy¡­¡±

    ¡°At the finest fucking schools!¡± Vinnie spat at Axel, a triumphant smirk dancing across his lips. ¡°While you pranced around like a pansy, I saved lives and made a meaningful¡­¡±

    Before Vinnie could finish, Axel charged. Ed lunged, arms outstretched, trying to keep them apart. ¡°Enough! I am the damned president!¡± Ed''s voice surged, surprising even himself. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, now mostly burnt out.

    ¡°Damn whore!¡± Vinnie sneered, a smirk painting his face, but Axel¡¯s restrained punch found its mark, snapping Vinnie¡¯s head backward.

    ¡°Idiot!¡± Axel retorted sharply, retaliating as Vinnie gripped and yanked Axel¡¯s silvery-blond hair, eliciting a cry in the moonlit night.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Ed screamed, his voice cutting through the chaos. In a flurry of movement, they were each struck twice, Ed pulling them back before things escalated further.

    In the moonlit gloom, blood trickled from Vin and Axel¡¯s nostrils, a reflection of the storm brewing between them. Ed cast a sharp glance at the pair. ¡°Ready to start acting like grown men?¡± His voice cut through the night, met with faint nods. ¡°Fine.¡± He pushed them both away with a decisive thrust. Vinnie regained his balance, but Axel stumbled, falling back into the mud.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Ed stood, chest heaving with each breath, fists clenched, blood smeared and a bruise blossoming between his knuckles. Silence fell, and the boys stared, especially Axel, who couldn¡¯t fathom what just happened. He¡¯d never known Ed had martial skills like that.

    Before more fights could erupt, insults hurled, or the night could spiral further, a beacon emerged in the darkness. ¡°Hey!¡± Joseph¡¯s shout echoed from afar, crimson censure visible even in the darkness.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Ed responded, a smirk playing on his lips. Vin and Axel couldn¡¯t fathom how quickly he had them on the ground, let alone smirk while they were still catching their breaths, the adrenaline pounding in their chests.

    Joseph approached with a joint in hand, his braided hair draped across his chest. Another figure trailed behind him. ¡°Isaac came along too?¡± Ed inquired.

    Isaac waved casually. ¡°Yeah,¡± he replied with a shrug. ¡°Was either go to the doctors or take my shift. Boss wouldn¡¯t let me work after the doc visit.¡±

    ¡°So, you didn¡¯t get paid?¡± Ed pressed.

    Isaac shrugged off the concern, stepping forward into view. ¡°Forget it. One day won¡¯t hurt. I¡¯d rather miss work today than miss the party.¡± He glanced at Joseph. ¡°Mind if I have some?¡±

    Without a word, Joseph passed him the joint. Isaac¡¯s smirk widened, his eyes reddened and relaxed, as if he might cry. He glanced around, noticing Axel and Vin had joined.

    In the moonlight, Isaac stood tall, a latecomer to the Sons, marked by the ascendancy spikes. His origins were a mystery, but he bore the Sons¡¯ signature height, a mane of light brown hair slicked back with pomade, and brown eyes so deep they appeared black. Athletic and with a robust posture, he surveyed the scene.

    ¡°You guys too¡­¡± Isaac grimaced, observing their injuries. ¡°What the hell happened to you lot?¡± he inquired.

    Ed let out a sigh, his gaze shifting between the others and the two embroiled in conflict. ¡°Just a little roughhousing,¡± he fibbed, sighing again. ¡°Nothing more, nothing less,¡± he assured as the pair struggled to regain their composure.

    Axel bounced back quicker, but Vinnie was still wrestling with the effects of his drinks. ¡°Are you still heading to the party?¡± Joseph asked, gesturing to the commotion. ¡°After all of... this?¡± He gestured vaguely.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ed declared firmly. ¡°We''re all going, and this¡­¡± He glanced pointedly at Axel and Vinnie, ¡°is not acceptable,¡± he warned sharply.

    Both Vin and Axel rolled their eyes in unison, but Ed kept his focus on them. ¡°I''m serious¡­ If you two can''t keep it together, and you''re just going to bicker and brawl all night, do it within the walls of House Mars. I don''t want the other houses witnessing our discord.¡±

    Groans and sighs escaped Vin and Axel. ¡°Fine,¡± Vinnie grumbled, ¡°I''ll behave, while this pretty boy¡­¡± he jabbed.

    ¡°Pretty boy!¡± Axel echoed. Joseph and Isaac exchanged eye rolls and facepalms. ¡°Watch your mouth before I¡­¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± Ed''s voice rang out, silencing even the forest''s creatures. He pointed sternly at the pair. ¡°Enough. Sort it out at home or leave, because if you bring this nonsense to the party, I''ll¡­¡± He left the threat hanging.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Axel acquiesced, and Vinnie let out a resigned sigh, more composed now, hand resting on the back of his head.

    ¡°I''m good,¡± Vin replied.

    Ed paused, observing them. Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the threat, or maybe sheer exhaustion had cleared their heads, making them realize the foolishness of their squabble. Exhaustion had a way of sobering men¡¯s minds.

    With a sigh, the group began to walk. Ed found himself flanking Joseph and Isaac, realizing he''d distanced himself from Vin and Axel. The two, still simmering with restrained fury, avoided each other, sticking to opposite ends of the path, a wide gap between them. Ed noticed and sneered, redirecting his attention ahead.

    ¡°Dramatic lot,¡± Ed muttered under his breath.

    Isaac glanced at Joseph, their eyes and hands communicating silently. Isaac responded with a series of gestures, Joseph''s hands quickly replying, and then nodded towards Ed.

    ¡°I''m only doing this because you''re too high to handle it,¡± Isaac muttered to himself, turning towards Ed.

    Ed remained silent for a moment, feeling the weight of Isaac''s gaze on him. ¡°Everything alright?¡± he inquired. He hadn''t known Isaac and Joseph were fluent in sign language, a skill that might prove useful.

    Isaac sighed, choosing not to speak, but instead motioned across his head. Maybe a direct approach was more effective than beating around the bush.

    ¡°So, what went down back there?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Will you just¡­ shut it,¡± Joseph interjected hurriedly, his red eyes scanning the surroundings. ¡°I thought this was supposed to be a simple party¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a party, I guess¡­¡± Ed began, but he sighed. ¡°Listen, you guys really don¡¯t understand how this school operates. I know it''s hard to believe, but things aren¡¯t always as they seem. You have to be cautious around the other houses. If only there were upperclassmen left in our house, we could¡¯ve¡­¡±

    Isaac smirked. ¡°Yeah, a party,¡± and suddenly all the color drained from Ed''s face. Amidst all he had said, Isaac had fixated on just one word: party. ¡°I''m really excited for this party. I¡¯ve got a new job, and the semester hasn¡¯t even started. I don¡¯t have to wake up early or eat ramen for breakfast¡­ I have a whole week to just mess around. Now, you ugly lot,¡± He paused, turning to the two boys trailing them. ¡°I won¡¯t let you ruin the chances of meeting potential women, suitors, or lovers, whatever you call them. Quit¡­the¡­nonsense.¡±

    They all stood shocked at Isaac''s outburst. Vin and Axel exchanged glances, then redirected their attention to Isaac. Axel was about to speak, but Vin beat him to it.

    ¡°Fine, whatever,¡± Vin replied, hurrying to catch up. ¡°I¡¯ll behave,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Good,¡± Isaac said, smirking as Ed noticed the bookbag he carried. His smirk widened as Isaac unveiled its contents for the others to see.

    ¡°Whoa,¡± Vin exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

    ¡°Behave and you''ll get your share,¡± Isaac said, leering. He nodded toward Ed with a suggestive grin. ¡°Even the prez gets a piece, free of charge.¡±

    Ed offered a small smirk and breathed a sigh of relief. They continued through the dense undergrowth and...

    ¡°What''s this?¡± Ed asked, holding an object in both hands. It was a flask, metallic and about the size of a small plastic water bottle. He took a sip, only to have bitterness and fire scorch down his throat, causing him to spit it out.

    Coughing, Ed looked up to find the others staring. Isaac was smirking, taking a hearty gulp without flinching. Joseph followed suit, and Vin took a swig, while Axel''s attempt seemed more awkward and hesitant than the rest.

    "What the heck was that," Ed muttered as he wiped the spit from his lips.

    "That''s some good old-fashioned Argo I moonshine," Isaac declared with a gleeful smirk, one hand on his hip. "Taste it, you lot. That''s the taste of my home."

    "Is that why it tastes like shit?" Joseph quipped, quick on the retort.

    Isaac shot him a look, met with eye-rolling and a smirk from Joseph.

    The boys began drinking the potent liquor as they collectively veered off the path, cutting through the raw wilderness of the forest. Ed''s mental reverie was disrupted by the curses emanating from shoes meeting mud or, unfortunately, animal droppings. The chatter, the banter, and the laughter made him smile. They were a ragtag bunch, but they seemed tough, and more importantly, they seemed alright.

    Turning around, Ed noticed Axel, dirtied and bloodied, clutching the flask with both hands.

    "You good?" Ed asked, sensing the awkwardness in the question that seemed more presidential than compassionate.

    Axel sighed and nodded. Ed hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

    "Listen, I know Vinnie wasn''t in the right, but you two can''t be fighting like that," Ed started, and Axel rolled his eyes at the lecture. Ed cut him off with a stern glare. "No, Axel. Yes, you come from a noble lineage, both paternal and genetic, but that doesn''t inherently make you superior to others or your fellow knights."

    Axel grimaced. "So, you''re not going to say anything to..."

    Ed cast a glance toward Vinnie. "I''ll deal with him later," he said, turning his gaze back to Axel. "...however, you''re talking with me right now. I don''t approve of this infighting within the house. It will only breed lousy morale and show weakness to the other houses. We must stand together."

    Axel looked at Ed, and for a moment, Ed thought he might argue or become more defensive. However, Axel sighed, and his gaze fell. He didn¡¯t speak, but it felt like a non-verbal concession.

    "Cheer up," Ed said, a hint of a drunken tone seeping in. "These are your brothers. We''re going to eat together, shit together, and fight alongside each other. I''d rather you be a friend or ally than some dude I''ve got to keep an eye out for."

    Axel started to raise his head to respond, but...

    "Hey, look at this," Joseph exclaimed, drawing their attention to the cries of the group ahead.

    In the midst of the dense forest, shrouded by harsh fog and persistent rain, the Sons of Mars stumbled upon an enigma. Vinnie, taken aback, knelt before it in astonishment, beckoning Ed and Axel to join him.

    "Whoa," Ed murmured, his words swallowed by the eerie silence that surrounded them.

    A massive tree stood before them, its trunk obscured by the unforgiving weather. Nestled within the intricate roots of the colossal arboreal giant was a suit of armor, rain-soaked and neglected, yet emanating an air of undeterred resolve.

    "Is that a whole suit of power armor in the forest?" Isaac questioned, his smile fading as he gazed upon the discovery. He raised an incredulous thumb. "Who was the idiot that lost it?"

    "More like abandoned it," Ed retorted, striding closer for a thorough examination. He observed the design and turned back to the group.

    Advancing cautiously, Ed found his feet sinking into a concealed pit, bringing him eye-level with the suit. Seizing the helmet by its throat, he wrenched it free, the hiss of released air accompanying the eerie silence. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he discerned a barcode.

    "It''s not Martian plate, if that''s what everyone''s thinking. It''s old, like training plate," Ed explained.

    Vinnie, inebriated but entertained, laughed heartily. "Training plate could still put someone through the wringer. I remember during football, we used lightweight training power armor for conditioning. One guy nearly plowed into another unarmored teammate. Coach went ballistic, could''ve torn straight through the poor lad."

    "A grim tale," Joseph noted. "The kind that makes a man ponder his existence."

    "No need to tell me twice," Vin responded with a smirk, taking another hearty gulp from his flask, followed by a fit of wheezing and coughing.

    Edward secured the helmet back in place, but before they continued, his gaze fixated on the battle-scarred suit. The chest displayed dings and scorched marks, as if it had weathered a storm of slashes and burns. But what caught his attention were the bullet gashes along the thighs and shoulders.

    Yet, it was what lay near the armor''s right leg that surprised him. Placing it in both hands, the Sons of Mars, a mix of shock and surprise on their faces, laughed nervously as they stared at Edward.

    "Whoa, Eddie!" Vinnie exclaimed.

    "Yeah, Ed!" Joseph added. "What the heck, that''s not a toy."

    In Edward¡¯s hands rested a two-handed sword, distinct from the conventional blades of the empire. This was an energy sword, a weapon with a special battery that, when activated, enveloped the blade in a potent energy coat capable of slicing through the thickest WarCasket plate.

    Edward''s was a standard variant, handled with practiced finesse. "You''ve got good control," Isaac remarked.

    Edward shot back a smirk and twirled the weapon effortlessly, a graceful dance that spoke volumes. "Oh, indeed," he replied, playing with the blade, moving faster and more agilely, relishing the attention from the others as he let the sword lead him.

    "Too slow," he silently challenged himself, quickening his pace to a dash of silver. With a flick, the blade lit up from guard to tip, a faint, ethereal blue hue enveloping the edges.

    "The blade''s no good," Axel snorted dismissively.

    "Isn''t the blade good enough for you, pretty boy?" Vinnie retorted, but Axel shook his head.

    "Explain," demanded Isaac, silencing them all. "Why do you say it''s bad?"

    Axel sighed. "The potency of the blade is revealed through its color." As they observed the display in the dark, the slightly inebriated Ed pushed the button, and once again, the weapon flared in fiery blue light.

    Axel continued, capturing everyone''s attention in the nocturnal dance. "That blade is strong. Blue is the weakest...but the soul of the blade burns."

    "The soul?" Isaac echoed, a surreal quality in his tone. "What do you mean by that, pretty knight?"

    Yet, Axel was lost in the spectacle, in the vivid memory of a long-forgotten time. His mind took him back to a distant past, memories intertwined with the aroma of meat pies and fresh beers. He could recall the strange things from his life before Mars fell¡ªlarger-than-life moments, his mother cradling him, his proximity to the Queen, and the honeyed scent of her perfume. Amidst these fleeting recollections, one image remained vivid: the dazzling dance of swords performed by the golden boy.

    Axel shook his head, battling the turmoil within. He had been adrift for years. Prophecies lay shattered in the recesses of lost galaxies. The loss of their golden boy had condemned them to failure. Yet, they were still alive, and that counted for something.

    "The damned blade is fiery and explosive. Ed, you be damn careful with that thing. Don''t crank that past ten...damned stub maker," Axel warned, with a tinge of concern.

    "Stub maker," Arthur, the quiet one, added with a snort. His gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. "The mines I worked at loved using plasma armaments," he explained, his brown eyes betraying a hint of grief. "Stub makers..." He shook his head in dismay.

    The air thickened, charged with anticipation and sweat clinging to their skin. The sword''s energy flickered, its edges singed, and as Ed rested it against his shoulder, a swift burn stung him. Axel''s eyes remained fixated on the blade, his thoughts transcending mere admiration¡ªsomething more, something ancient and Mars-like.

    Axel shot Edward a look, his mind echoing with doubts and distant possibilities, a whisper of something unbelievable, yet compelling.

    "Guys!" A scream sliced through the forest, a chilling sound that jolted everyone into immediate alertness. Some were high, others were drunk, yet each instinctively adopted a combat stance. Joseph readied his fists defensively, Axel positioned himself in a martial stance, even Ed and Arthur adopted a ready posture.

    The rest, however, lacked any semblance of preparedness or skill. Ed recognized their need for improvement, a pressing concern in case they were dispatched on missions. Time was short, and their deficiencies were a looming threat.

    "August?" Isaac was the first to address him.

    August, with his dark hair and shorter stature among them, bore the insignia of his knight order like the others. Despite his slight frame, he possessed a modest amount of muscle. His brown-rimmed glasses accentuated his light green eyes, shining like lush moss. His hair, a wild mop of rich black, fell unevenly in a bowl cut, at times unruly.

    "Hey, guys," August spoke, his words a stuttering whisper.

    "Jesus Christ!" Axel snapped, his impatience evident. "After screaming for us, that''s all you got?"

    "Enough, Axel," Ed interjected sharply.

    Turning his attention to August, Ed inquired, "What happened?"

    August stuttered, visibly distressed and teetering on the edge of tears. Some among them lacked empathy, their impatience palpable. "Me and Tyson, we were walking here. He had work and agreed to show me the way. And I, I..." His words stumbled, trapped in fear.

    Edward observed August''s distress, empathizing with the boy''s plight. However, not everyone shared this sentiment. "Spit it out!" Axel jeered mockingly.

    "Yeah, pretty knight, I agree!" Vinnie chimed in, the two laughing heartily. "Come on, guys," Joseph chided curtly, trying to calm himself from the sudden anxiety triggered by August''s distress.

    "Me and T-Tyson, we were..."

    Edward watched as tears welled in August''s eyes, recognizing genuine distress, not the antics of a boy crying wolf. August struggled to articulate his words, the effort etched on his face, while Axel and Vinnie mercilessly taunted him.

    "You''re a freaking spazz. Sputtering like a bee. No, rather like a fly. Fly¡­Flee¡­Fleeboy!" Axel hollered, reveling in the newly coined nickname. "Fleeboy''s got a nice ring to..." Vinnie mused, cut short as Edward seized him by the shirt cuff, wrenching him towards him.

    "Enough!" snapped Ed. "I am getting real tired of this." He turned his attention back to August. "Speak up. What''s got you so scared?"

    August, now resolute, gulped before revealing, "Tyson agreed to show me where the party was, so I wouldn''t get lost. We planned on meeting up with you there, but a bunch of guys came out from the brush...they¡­"

    August broke into tears, and Ed released Axel, turning to face the distressed boy. "What happened?"

    Breathing heavily, August recounted, "Me and Tyson tried to fight them off, but there were more than we expected. I escaped, but Tyson..."

    "Jesus Christ," Vinnie muttered.

    Isaac nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that''s fucking barbaric."

    "Patch colors. Tell me what colors their houses were," Ed demanded.

    "Blue," August stammered. "I couldn''t see everyone''s individual shoulder patterns, but there was this crazy bastard with a knife. When me and Ty saw him, we froze up. That''s when the real bastards got the jump on us. I remember his badge."

    Ed signaled for him to continue. "A blue trident within the crescent of a blue moon."

    Ed chuckled at that, drawing curious looks. "Something funny?" Axel questioned.

    "Nothing," Ed brushed it off, striding in the direction August had come from. "This way, huh, August?"

    "Um, yes," August replied.

    "Wait, where are you going?" Arthur questioned.

    Ed snorted. "Well, as you can see, the trident heraldry, that''s Logan of Neptune we''re talking about here. A bunch of Neptune cronies jumped August and Tyson, and now they pulled out a knife," Ed sneered at the harsh reality. "We didn''t start a damned thing. And now they want a war?"

    Axel shot an accusatory glare at Ed. "I bet it was because he had issues with them because he was a mutant."

    "Watch yourself, Axel," snapped Arthur, his brown eyes piercing. "Tyson may have mutations, but he is still a person and shall be treated as such."

    Amidst the inky shadows of the forest, Axel''s smirk played on the edge of cruelty. "Oh really?" he said. "From what I¡¯ve heard, he¡¯s been fighting Neptune cronies with that country hick, what¡¯s his name? Hen something, Henry, but it¡¯s..."

    "Henryk," Ed finished. "You speak of Henryk and Tyson. From what I¡¯ve heard, Henryk was defending Tyson from a bunch of bullies, and now it seems that those same bullies are trying to strike him again."

    On the other side of the woods, deep within the sinister corners that only the brave dared tread, drunken groups waded and hollered through the night, leaving this particular spot untouched. Illuminated solely by hololights, they were allowed to act.

    Logan gripped the knife, the others watching as they encircled the battered and bruised mutant in a macabre dance. Tyson, his arms resting on his knees, head hung low, bore the marks of a brutal exchange. Blood seeped from his nose, a popped lip sending a trickle down his throat. His matted hair framed his defeated posture, and those gleefully observing smirked at the brutal spectacle. Although his hands were clean, he clutched the knife, yet it trembled within his grasp.

    Logan''s azure eyes blazed a surreal fiery blue as he stared at Tyson, who raised his head only to receive a brutal kick across his face. Dazed and battered, he coughed, bile staining his uniform, the ominous red stain marking his fall onto his belly.

    The once-antagonist now lay limp as Logan turned to face the aggressor. Jaicob, the man with the buzzed-off head, stood with an air of intimidation. Even in the midst of Logan''s pride, Jaicob''s presence struck fear. His pale skin seemed ghostlike, his eyes beady and black, reminiscent of a shark lurking in the depths.

    "Do it, Logan," Jaicob urged. The knife wavered in Logan''s hand as he struggled for control. Jaicob sneered and loomed over him. "Hand over the blade...I¡¯ll slit the abomination¡¯s throat!"

    In the distance, someone approached. Rain battered Simon''s glasses, and the rims almost appeared like bubbles. Logan wondered how he could see. Simon raised his hands, questioning their actions. "What the hell are you two doing?" he demanded, glancing at the unconscious Tyson. He understood the gravity of the situation, recoiling as he released the pair.

    "What...what is this?" Simon sputtered at first, his voice then roaring like a lion. "What have you done to him!"

    Jaicob scoffed. "Dealing with mutant scum on academy grounds." Simon, visibly horrified, stared at Tyson''s motionless form, resembling a corpse. "Are you trying to start a house war between Mars and Neptune?" Simon scoffed, casting his gaze through the woods and then back at the gruesome scene. "I will be speaking to Stella about this!" he proclaimed.

    In the moonlit shadows, Logan''s eyes widened with a hint of remorse as Jaicob, with unabated aggression, confronted Simon. Pointing a forceful finger against Simon''s chest, Jaicob uttered, "Listen here, you fucking border hopper..."

    "Leave him alone," Logan unexpectedly interjected, surprising the others. He sighed, "We traded for Clive, and now he is one of us."

    Ignoring Logan''s plea, Jaicob seized Simon by the arms, lifting him slightly and pushing him harshly against a wooden log. Simon''s eyes flared at the bizarre turn of events, and he pushed Jaicob away, meeting the narrowing glare with defiance.

    "Enough of this!" Logan''s voice echoed through the tense atmosphere as he grabbed Jaicob by the shoulder and forcefully turned him around. "If you attack him, you are attacking a future citizen of Neptune! Listen to me, you damned mad dog! Until he graduates, he is a citizen. It doesn¡¯t matter that he was born on either Mercury or a backwater world along the frontier. He is one of us now!"

    The pause was broken by the sound of rustling from the woods. Franklin emerged, eyes deep within the darkness, mechanical overholes glinting. His teeth gleamed white as his gaze swept over the scene, including the struggling Tyson. Approaching Tyson, who was trying to crawl away, Franklin addressed the group.

    "What are you lot doing?" he asked, shaking his head slowly. Drawing a pocket knife from his pocket, he played with it between his fingers. "My daddy told me stories about things like this. A purge, ridding the mutant and anything truly alien for our perfect society." His fingers touched the coat of fur along the back of Tyson''s throat. "Abhor the mutant, the galaxy shall be purged from any source of corruption caused by the alien. We are God¡¯s species, and who else but we¡­"

    Turning back to the men, Tyson attempted to run, but Franklin gripped him firmly by the shoulder. "Shh, don''t fight it," Franklin leered at Tyson as his claws clawed desperately into the dirt. Looking at the others of Neptune, Franklin maintained his grip, a sense of ominous authority in his demeanor.

    Simon, unaware of their ways, watched with confusion, while Logan and Jaicob regarded Franklin with a superstitious awe, recognizing his status as Franklin of The Moon. As Tyson begged for mercy through pain, Franklin remained resolute, uttering, "I did you lot no wrong. I didn''t even raise a hand to you. Please, I am begging you. Just let me go. I won''t tell a soul."

    In the darkening abyss of the forest, Logan''s eyes widened, and for a fleeting moment, his tongue struggled to articulate the gravity of the situation. As Logan of Neptune, he understood that Stella might be furious, but they had crossed a line. What began as a mere drunken jest, upon Jaicob''s unexpected arrival, morphed into something far darker¡ªa war. Aware of the crippled state of House Mars, Logan dreaded the potential consequences of their actions.

    "Do you remember the tenets of the blue moon?" questioned Franklin, locking eyes with them.

    Jaicob affirmed, "We deny the mutant."

    "Yes," Franklin continued, his gaze shifting to Tyson. He elegantly wove the blade through the air, illustrating their creed. "We deny the mutant. We cull it...exterminate it before it¡¯s given the chance to breed and spread across the universe. Can you imagine that, any of you? Humanity''s purity, corrupted and spreading throughout the known realm?"

    "What is your name?" Franklin inquired, directing his focus back to Tyson.

    Silent and battered, Tyson struggled underneath the weight of it all. Franklin hummed a verse of a prayer. "The moment man emerged victorious in evolution, the moment we reached for the stars. Mankind''s divinity was assured; we were tested against the alien metal once, and now we''ve weaponized their tools. We are the conquerors, the hunters. Let them come, and they will be destroyed."

    Tyson, breathing heavily, felt a surge of despair as Franklin''s smile widened. "No name?" Franklin spoke firmly, clicking his lips and shaking his head. Raising the blade, he declared, "Then you''ll die, abomination... I''d read you your rites, but without a name, it''d be a damn folly."

    Yet, as Tyson closed his eyes, preparing for the fatal strike, he sensed an unfamiliar stomping. It reverberated like a roaring horde cutting through the brush. The sons of dead fathers, the Sons of Mars, descended upon them, screaming and hollering like a wild horde. They severed the head of the blue moon god, indulging in the bloody spectacle with crimson blades and armor. The Sons had arrived, descending upon the scene.

    "You psychopaths!" screamed Arthur, charging toward Franklin. Arthur, towering at an astounding six-foot-five, unleashed a powerful blow, slamming his fist into Franklin''s pale face. The battle commenced, as Tyson, battered but fueled by adrenaline, joined his comrades in the chaotic fray.

    Ed''s mind churned like a relentless engine, the active part of him that never seemed to sleep, keeping him awake and weary. His thoughts danced in a unique rhythm, a strength that set him apart. In the company of Vinnie, Joseph, Axel, Arthur, Isaac, and August, Ed found himself face to face with Logan of Neptune. A familiar prick in the dance of chaos.

    Amidst the chaos, Ed found himself grinning at the odds, relishing the satisfying thud of his fist striking Logan of Neptune''s gut. Those wide blue eyes betrayed surprise as Logan gasped for air. A smirk spread across Ed''s face; hitting that infamous brat felt beyond good. He might not have known the names of the others, but their intentions were clear. The retaliation would be swift. Logan, Simon, Jaicob, and Franklin¡ªHouse Neptune had provoked the smallest roster, and how small they looked now.

    Isaac, Jospeh, and Vinnie rallied around Simon and Jaicob. They launched themselves at the pair, a cacophony of punches and kicks echoing through the chaos.

    Ed landed another punch on Logan, watching the boy drop to his knees, struggling to suppress the bile rising in his throat. "Remember, you asked for this," Ed muttered before delivering a final blow that sent Logan crashing face-first into the dirt.

    While Arthur wrestled Franklin into a headlock, Jaicob retaliated with a knife in hand. Jospeh''s warning alerted Isaac, who dodged just in time. "Oh crap!" August''s swift kick caught Jaicob off guard, sending him sprawling.

    "Thanks, Fleeboy!" Isaac acknowledged, rising just as Jaicob charged back into the fray. "This bastard can''t stay down!" Arthur yelled.

    "And neither can this guy!" Axel retorted, their focus fixed on the relentless Jaicob, bloody and knife-wielding.

    "We''ll make him stay down," Vinnie spoke, a hint of malice underscoring his words.

    Amidst the chaos, Tyson joined the fight, running toward Jaicob. Vinnie tried to dissuade him, "Tyson, you can''t fight; you''re injured!" But Tyson disregarded the caution, launching himself into the confrontation.

    The clash unfolded with a series of slashes and dodges. Jaicob aimed to spill Tyson''s bowels, slash his throat, and strike at his privates, but Ty maneuvered with agility, dodging every lethal blow. Sneering, Tyson knew what had to be done.

    The decision made in anger and rage clawed at Tyson''s conscience, but the searing emotions, the mistreatment, demanded retribution. His hands, coated with fur, harbored hidden claws, retracting and revealing steel knives in the moonlight. A single slash downward, a bloodcurdling scream, and Jaicob''s face bore the marks of Tyson''s fury, the skin resembling scratches on a chalkboard. Horror etched on the faces of both Neptune and Mars, Tyson stood in resolute silence, his breath heavy, eyes fixed on Jaicob''s anguished form.

    "Jesus Christ¡­" Vinnie''s voice cut through the shocked silence.

    Meanwhile, Arthur''s booted foot slammed against Franklin''s face, a sickening sound of breaking bone reverberating. Arthur winced at the blood seeping through his fingers, turning away from the gruesome scene. "Damned dirty business," he muttered, longing to dull his ears to the haunting screams.

    Clive, battered but standing, helped Logan to his feet. Ed, having distanced himself, faced the others. Axel questioned their next move. "Are we going to let them go?"

    "Yeah, I agree," echoed Vinnie, his gaze hard on the beaten figures. "They come in here, beat one of our own, even brought a knife."

    Isaac considered the situation. "There''s a time and place for this¡­"

    "A time or place?" spat Axel, his gaze on Ed. "Ed, what do you want to do?"

    Ed pondered the lessons his father might have imparted, the advisors guiding them through the dark expanses of space. When was enough truly enough? When did righteous justice turn into paranoid cruelty?

    Sighing, Ed looked at Jaicob, now crying and wailing, the others in various states of retreat. His gaze shifted to Tyson, perplexed by Ed''s actions. "We won''t do a thing. Let them go," Ed declared.

    "What!" Axel''s protest rang out. "Edward, are you serious? They¡ª"

    "Put a sock in it," Ed interrupted, addressing the group. "That guy will forever bear the mark of Tyson''s rage. Any more, and it''s overkill."

    As his sentence concluded, the Neptune crew scurried out of the clearing, leaving Ed to exhale a weary sigh. The night had only begun, and it had already unfurled like a dark tapestry of chaos. Ed, still grappling with the unsettling turn of events, addressed his companions. "Neptune is an enemy now. Before, I might have striven for neutrality or positive ties, but this..." He shook his head, casting a glance at the terrified and trembling Tyson.

    Axel, wide-eyed, queried, "Was this really all because he was a mutant?"

    Ed, choosing silence as his initial response, loomed over Tyson. "August," he called out, prompting the apprehensive August to turn toward him. "Can you take Tyson and head back to the manor?"

    August groaned, "But there isn''t anything to do there?"

    "Then go and dip into the treasury and find something to do," Ed retorted. Arthur raised an objection, "You''re letting them dip into our house money for a hangout session?"

    "Look at him," Ed snapped back, directing their attention to the trembling Ty. He turned back to August. "You and Ty have been through a whole lot today. We don''t have running water, an ounce of Wi-Fi, or even any damn power yet. Money? We''ll get more soon."

    Although still hesitant, August sighed. Ed pressed on, "You guys can''t go to the party. God forbid they return and do this again to Ty, maybe then..."

    "Okay," August replied simply. "Come on, Ty."

    "...and August," Ed called out as they turned away, gazing at the Sons of Mars. August and Ty paused, meeting Ed''s eyes. "Get Ty a drink." With that, they resumed their path, disappearing into the night, leaving behind the aftermath of a housemate brawl, a peculiar sighting in the woods, and a confrontation with the Neptune boys. The night brimmed with mounting excitement, but likewise¡­conflict.

    Ed smirked, a sense of irony coloring his expression. "Get Ty a drink," he repeated, snickering to himself at the manner of it. Like hell a drink is going to fix what happened tonight. And within those thoughts, the ventured back into the party of destiny.

 Chapter 15 - The Kindness of The Soldiers of Pluto

    "I''m sorry, Henryk. You''re a decent guy and talented enough, but you''ve got to grasp that those Venus boys ain''t fond of you. The big cheese, Jace... I don''t see eye to eye with him..."

    Geral''s words slithered through the cramped space of his presidential quarters, a room devoid of comfort or frills, just a spartan cot and a stark desk under the glare of a solitary window, its panes barricaded with bars, casting a harsh, sterile light.

    Perched on the edge of the cot, Geral''s gaze fixed on Henryk, whose eyes seemed lost in the worn wooden planks beneath his feet.

    Henryk had ventured into House Pluto, a stronghold of orthodoxy and utilitarianism. Compared to other dorms, it felt more institutional, more militaristic¡ªa stark contrast to the vibrancy he had hoped to find. Its corridors stretched like bleak arteries, windows ensnared in metal grids.

    It unsettled him, this aversion to color, even his own drab uniform held more vitality than the monotonous surroundings.

    Their attire, reminiscent of soldiers, lacked the flair of flight suits, adorned instead in deep green fatigues, each patch marking hierarchy. Doors remained sealed, denying him the customary glimpse into potential accommodations. It dawned on him how swiftly his fortunes had shifted.

    Once courted, now shunned¡ªa damning consequence of his own folly. Memories surged, of his clenched fist meeting Jace''s jaw, the ensuing chaos a tempest in his mind.

    Henryk''s breaths came ragged, weariness etched in every line of his face. Geral''s voice pierced the heavy air, drawing his attention.

    "Listen, Henryk. You''re a decent fella, but you gotta figure out your next move."

    Geral''s words hung, tentative. Henryk''s narrowed gaze bore into him, a silent challenge. Geral sighed, a flicker of regret passing over his features. They could have had Henryk, before it all went to hell.

    His mind flickered back to the footage, Henryk''s prowess in the cockpit undeniable. He was an asset, but Jace''s disdain loomed large.

    Henryk''s lip curled. "This about what went down between me and..." His hand gestured vaguely, and Geral nodded.

    "Jace," he interjected, the name heavy on his tongue.

    "Jace," Henryk murmured, the name heavy on his lips as he rested his hands on his knees. "I just don''t see how I''m the one in the wrong here."

    Geral let out a weary sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Jace and Sirine... now, there''s a tangled web," he muttered.

    Henryk shook his head, frustration etched in his features. "Sirine mentioned something about her and Jace... something more."

    "It''s complicated," Geral interjected, his tone weighed down with uncertainty.

    "I''ve got time," Henryk insisted, his determination unwavering.

    Geral studied Henryk''s face for a moment, a mixture of admiration and concern flickering in his eyes. "You sure don''t give up easily," he remarked, clicking his teeth. "I don''t know what you see in Sirine. Sure, she''s a looker with that white hair, but there''s a storm brewing beneath that pretty facade."

    "What kind of trouble?" Henryk pressed, his curiosity piqued.

    "Oh, you''ll find out soon enough," Geral replied cryptically, shooting Henryk a meaningful glance. "Helen, that''s the kind of trouble a girl like her brings."

    Henryk fell silent, mulling over Geral''s words.

    Geral sighed heavily. "It''s not official yet, but the Headmaster''s on his deathbed," he revealed, watching Henryk''s reaction closely.

    Henryk''s eyes widened in shock at the news.

    "Someone''s gotta take over the academy," Geral continued, his voice grave. "And word is, Jace''s old man and Sirine''s father are cooking up some marriage scheme."

    Henryk''s disbelief was evident. "How can they get away with that?"

    Geral shrugged. "You head deeper into the system, you''ll find folks with some mighty peculiar customs. Martian castles, tribal alliances... and tales of alien origins," he added with a hint of irony.

    Henryk chuckled skeptically. "You really believe in all that?"

    "Believe it," Geral retorted sharply. "I''ve seen things out there, Henryk. On guild missions. It''s a dark, twisted universe. But you already knew that."

    Geral pointed a finger at Henryk, who winced at the gesture. "How''s the eye?" Geral inquired, his tone softening.

    Henryk sighed, gingerly touching the bruised skin around his blackened eye. "Not from Jace," he growled, his resentment palpable.

    "His lackeys," Geral surmised, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You''re talking to the president of House Pluto, Henryk. I''ve been around the block. I know things."

    "So, it''s common knowledge, then?" Henryk asked, a glimmer of realization dawning in his eyes.

    Geral shook his head, his expression grave. "No, but having been in this position, I know how the game is played."

    His words hung heavy in the air, and Henryk sensed the weight of them before he even spoke. Eyes still fixed on the floor, he ventured, "You know it wasn''t me, right?"

    Geral remained silent for a beat, then sighed, lifting his mismatched gaze to meet Henryk''s. "I don''t know," he admitted.

    "You don''t know?" Henryk echoed, frustration seeping into his voice as he locked eyes with the president. "Why would I have any reason to mess with Jace''s sister? I wasn''t even near her. And a tournament? I''ve never wielded a sword in my life!"

    "What do you want me to say?" Geral shot back, annoyance creeping into his tone. "It doesn''t matter what I believe. It matters what the other houses believe, and..."

    He trailed off, rubbing his brow with a weariness that seemed out of place on a man in his twenties, his features etched with stress.

    "Christ, what a mess," he muttered, rising from his seat. Henryk watched him, a silent standoff of anger and frustration brewing between them. Henryk for being shut out of the house, and Geral, who seemed torn between wanting Henryk and the fallout from the previous night''s events.

    Geral sighed, regaining his composure. "Henryk, you have to be careful now. You''ve already drawn Venus''s wrath, and they won''t stop coming after you."

    Henryk sneered, his lip curling in defiance. He examined his bruised knuckles, a reminder of the scuffle with the Venus boys outside the dining hall. Tough as nails, those core worlders, but he had held his own. Still, the pain lingered, a reminder of the futility of it all. It wasn''t him, couldn''t have been him. Yet a flicker of doubt danced in his mind.

    He made to leave, his mind racing, replaying the chaos of the previous night.

    Geral nodded solemnly. "Jace thinks you''re the Antlered Knight. Funny, they call you that, you know?"

    Henryk scoffed, dismissing the title with a roll of his eyes. "I couldn''t care less about titles. Geral, I''m here for one reason¡ªto provide for my mother and sisters. Neptune''s too..."

    "I''m not surprised," Geral interjected, his eyes narrowing. "Word travels fast. Heard about your exploits in space. Rescuing the headmaster''s daughter and Logan of Neptune."

    Henryk met his gaze evenly. "It was a team effort. Edward of Mars, Piper of Mercury... couldn''t have done it alone."

    As the words left his lips, a realization dawned on Henryk. He remembered his reckless charge into the WarCasket, his initial annoyance at Ed''s interference. Now, he understood that without their help, he and Sirine would have perished in space.

    Sirine... her big, sad gray eyes haunted his thoughts, her white locks like a beacon in the darkness. When had she become so prominent in his mind? And why?

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    But Geral''s smirk hinted at a deeper understanding. "It was your WarCasket that carved a path through that asteroid," he remarked.

    Henryk''s words caught in his throat, choked by surprise. "How did you..."

    Geral reached into his pocket, retrieving a phone. Bathed in the blue glow, he continued, "Neptune tried to bury it, but someone leaked the footage. Perhaps they saw it as a chance to claim you..."

    Henryk''s gaze fixed on the screen, his own exploits replaying before him. The grainy quality of the video did little to diminish the memory¡ªthe pounding of his heart as he and Logan cut through the asteroid field with sword and trident.

    He watched, transfixed, as his battered WarCasket sprang to life, its makeshift weapon cleaving the colossal rock in two. Geral pocketed the phone as Henryk absorbed the gravity of his actions.

    "You saved Neptune''s spear," Geral affirmed, turning to face Henryk. "Have you approached them?"

    A fleeting grin crossed Henryk''s face. "Don''t want me anymore?"

    Geral waved off the jest with a smile of his own. "You''re not half bad," he admitted, his eyes tracing Henryk''s form. "You remind me of my brother. Maybe that''s why I''m feeling generous today."

    "What if I wasn''t like your brother?" Henryk wondered aloud.

    Geral chuckled. "Then we wouldn''t be having this conversation," he confessed, rising from the bed. "You and my brother, both first-years, both with that same restless spirit."

    "Restless?" Henryk echoed, searching Geral''s face.

    "Yeah, restless," Geral confirmed. "Henryk, you arrived at the academy during a tumultuous time. Neptune holds the cards in this game, and Logan, well, he''s got his own brand of honor. If you went to Neptune, demanded a spot, they''d at least listen."

    Henryk met Geral''s gaze, a flicker of pain in his eyes. "I already did," he admitted.

    Geral shrugged, the smirk fading from his lips as he settled back onto the bed. "Well, that''s quite the story," he remarked.

    "No kidding," Henryk replied dryly.

    Geral chuckled, a wry twist to his lips. "So, you''ve managed to botch your chances with two houses. Neptune and Venus, Henryk. That''s not exactly a glowing resume."

    "You don''t have to tell me twice," Henryk replied, weariness seeping into his voice.

    "Damn," Geral muttered. "You really are a chip off the old block, Henryk. My brother''s just like you¡ªhot-headed, quick to throw a punch before using his brain."

    Henryk''s sneer deepened. "Are you seriously laying this at my feet?"

    Geral fell silent, his gaze lingering on Henryk''s worn form. A flicker of regret danced in his eyes, momentarily overshadowed by a sense of pity. He hadn''t fully realized the toll Henryk had paid.

    Henryk spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes, bloodshot and weary, told a story of sleepless nights and endless trials. His uniform, a drab canvas of gray, bore the marks of his struggles¡ªstains, tears, and bruises.

    "Every fight I''ve been in, it''s been because of the screwed-up things happening here," Henryk confessed, his mind flashing to the chaos at Neptune, the recent debacle at the party. "You were right. I went to Neptune, hoping Logan would give me a chance."

    "And did he?" Geral inquired, surprise evident in his voice as Henryk nodded.

    "That''s odd," Geral mused.

    "How so?" Henryk prompted.

    "Neptune, both here and on their planet, they''re known as the blue-blooded house. They value independence, wealth, religion. But they''re not too keen on outsiders," Geral explained.

    "You mean beyond the core worlds?" Henryk clarified.

    Geral shook his head. "Nope. Last I heard, they recruited someone from Mercury. But they''ve got a reputation for xenophobia. I''ve even heard rumors they don''t get along with their own kind."

    Henryk fell silent, mulling over Geral''s words. Sensing his hesitation, Geral pressed on.

    "So, you had a shot at citizenship for yourself and your family. Why didn''t you take it?"

    Henryk''s lips were dry as he spoke. "They jumped someone..."

    Geral scratched his head, a sigh escaping him. "Henryk, I know what the galaxy thinks of this place, but it''s all a load of crap. This isn''t your typical school, and if you..."

    Henryk''s sneer sliced through the tension like a knife. "You sure like to talk, don''t you?" he snapped at Geral, jabbing a finger accusingly at the president of Pluto. "Those Neptune boys didn''t lift a finger. It was me. I stood alone as those animals attacked him. And you want to know why, Geral? Because he was a mutant."

    Geral, struck speechless, slumped against the wall behind his bed, exhaling heavily. Thirty seconds of silence hung in the air before he found his voice. "Henry, I know you mean well, but you can''t go about it like this."

    Henryk''s sneer deepened, and he turned his head away, prompting an irritated scowl from Geral. "Stop playing dumb, Henryk," he chided, jabbing his finger once more. "There''s a right way to do things and a wrong way. If you want to make it here, you''ve got to play by the rules."

    "Make it?" Henryk nearly shouted, incredulous. "This is supposed to be a damn school, but all I''ve seen is assaults and racism. People getting attacked over the color of their clothes. Sticking to their own kind like it''s some damn tribal ritual. We''re all students here, and all that heraldry does is divide us."

    "Wrong, abhorrent, pointless?" scoffed Geral, gesturing towards the window that overlooked the sprawling campus. "Those were my thoughts when I first arrived. Don''t get me wrong, Henryk. The system here is messed up, but I''ve used my position to do what''s right, to keep my men in line so they don''t stoop to..."

    "Logan and Jace?" Henryk interjected, wrapping his arms around himself, his gaze piercing.

    "Goddamn right," Geral snapped back instantly, meeting Henryk''s glare head-on. "I''ve heard things about Logan, but Jace? He''s a real piece of work."

    "Tell me about it," Henryk muttered.

    Geral''s sneer was palpable. "Venus and Pluto used to have a decent friendship," he reminisced.

    "Really?" Henryk''s interest piqued.

    Geral nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips as he recalled brighter days. "Yeah. The last president was a stand-up guy. Tactical, honorable. He kept the Venusians in check. But now, with Jace in charge, his first order of business? Hurt and attack the boy who saved Sirine from his clutches."

    Henryk''s gaze dropped, a heaviness settling over him. Yet, Geral pressed on. "I was there at the party all night," he revealed.

    "So, you saw everything," Henryk acknowledged.

    Geral nodded solemnly. "Every damn bit. Jace catcalling Sirine, then drunkenly grabbing her and pinning her arms. I can still hear her scream for help..."

    "...and not a soul moved," Henryk finished, his voice heavy with resignation.

    Geral lifted his gaze, catching the stormy tone in the air, a perfect reflection of Henryk''s anger. Lips sealed, eyes ablaze with a white-hot fury, Henryk had abandoned his seat, fists clenched in restraint.

    "Not a single soul moved," Geral echoed, the weight of those words hanging in the room. The soldiers of Pluto, witches of Jupiter, knights of Mars, First Men of Earth, Spears of Neptune, Uranus''s innworlders, and Mercury''s pilots¡ªall frozen in silence.

    Geral''s beard softened into a semblance of sorrow as he continued, "My brother and I are descendants of the old kings of Pluto." The shock etched on Henryk''s face was undeniable.

    "At that party, sons and daughters of kings, emperors, sultans, presidents, ambassadors, conquerors, raiders, slavers¡ªthe elite of lineage. Yet, when faced with the challenge, it was only you who stood your ground, acted honorably and fearlessly against Jace. The rest of us just stood there in silence."

    Henryk''s fist unclenched, taking a step back. "I didn''t act honorably," he countered. "There was a girl in trouble, and Ma raised me to help those in need. So, I helped."

    Geral smirked and chuckled, his response laced with cynicism. "Simple ethics, Henryk. They''ll get complicated as the years go by in a place like this. There are other academies, different institutions where it''s nothing like this. You don''t have to stay."

    Silence hung between them, and then Henryk''s eyes met Geral''s. "Then why are you still here?" he challenged, narrowing his gaze. "Why bring your own damned brother? You know damn well this is the only option, and I''ll be damned if I don''t take this opportunity."

    Geral sighed, rising from his bed. "Okay, obviously, you can''t join our house, but you can bathe, eat, and I''ll get someone to tidy up your clothes."

    Henryk paused, realizing he had avoided the dining hall, wary of the Venusians still hunting him. He had to tread carefully.

    "Do you know where you''re going after this?" Geral asked, a heavy sigh accompanying the question. "Today''s the last day."

    "I know. What happens if I don''t have a house?" Henryk inquired.

    Geral sneered. "They''ll send their own guys to find and recover you, send you back home. Some have fled to the countryside, avoiding the real crappy positions."

    "The country?" Henryk repeated.

    "Oh, yeah," Geral affirmed with a smile, sweeping his hand to emphasize his point. "The Academy''s nice, but sometimes it''s too much. If you can get a house before the day ends, tour the grounds. There''s a massive city rivaling old New York, and the countryside is drop-dead gorgeous. The women, too, prefer Academy boys and are not part of this pesky pissing contest."

    Henryk remained silent, his gaze lifting to meet Geral''s. "Thank you," he said softly.

    Geral shrugged, dismissing the gratitude. "It''s nothing, really. You seem like a good lad. But where to now?" he inquired.

    Henryk shrugged in response. "I''ve visited or spoken to the presidents of most houses. Some extended invitations, but others had their own strange agendas. Now, it''s just Mercury and Mars left."

    Geral sighed knowingly. "You''ll encounter plenty of that, Henryk. The house you choose will entangle you in its politics. Whether it''s Earth or Venus, you''ll be drawn into their schemes. It''s the way of life here."

    Henryk sighed in resignation, but Geral raised a cautionary finger. "...and don''t think about switching houses."

    Henryk''s eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he questioned. "I''ve heard switching houses isn''t that big a deal."

    Geral shook his head adamantly. "Listen, there are few things all houses agree on. Deserters and flip-floppers are universally despised. You''ve heard of that traitor Simon from Mercury, right? Now, imagine if someone of my rank wanted to switch from Pluto to, say, Earth. You may not grasp the full consequences now, but my position gives me access to critical information."

    "You''d be a security risk," Henryk concluded, his understanding dawning.

    Geral nodded approvingly. "Quick learner," he remarked. "That''s a strength in itself. Adaptability¡ªthe ability to blend into any environment or role. Many don''t survive beyond their familiar surroundings. But you, you''ve been through battles and scars. When was the last time you slept?"

    Henryk fell silent. Geral chuckled softly. "You''re a feisty one, Henryk of..."

    "Henryk Brown," Henryk supplied.

    "Henryk Brown," Geral repeated, his fingers combing through his beard. "An old Earth name. You don''t hear much of those anymore. What does it mean?"

    Henryk shrugged. "It''s my father''s family name. He said it was a name feared by slavers, conquerors, and even emperors."

    Geral studied the boy before him, catching a glimpse within Henryk''s eyes¡ªthe present locked in one, the future in the other. A berserker''s gaze, a hint of madness that left Geral wondering if this was the first time he''d witnessed it.

    "Well, Henryk Brown," Geral said, rising from his seat. Henryk extended his hand, meeting Geral''s grasp firmly. "I am Geral of Pluto. Take care of yourself. Today''s the last day. Get yourself dolled up enough so those damn Mercurians can take you. With someone like you, I feel you''ll do some good."

    "You think so?" Henryk chuckled, his tone tinged with humor.

    Geral wrapped both arms around himself, a smirk playing on his lips. "I know so."

 Chapter 16 - Mercurian Pride

    Margaret savored the taste of her ham and cheese sandwich, relishing the way the flavors melded together, sticking to the roof of her mouth. It was a simple pleasure, one she enjoyed on this bright Sunday afternoon. She found herself seated in the expansive bleachers surrounding the shielded walls of the arena. The sunlight cast a warm glow over the scene, and the sparse crowd hinted at the calm before the storm of the upcoming semester. With a sip of water, she discarded the aluminum foil into the brown sandwich bag, sighing softly.

    Beside her, a sudden bang echoed, causing Margaret to startle, nearly dropping her sandwich and water bottle. Quickly donning her headset, she snapped, "Watch where you''re hitting, Piper!"

    The arena''s shields were formidable, capable of repelling almost anything thrown at them. Whether it was training lasers, cartridges, missiles, or even the occasional WarCasket hurled into the walls, they held firm. Piper, clad in a different suit from her old mech lost in the cluster belt, stood in stark contrast. Her upgraded Mercurian Unit, more humanoid in shape, boasted impressive stats, weaponry, and upgrades within a versatile WarCasket ''Medium'' template.

    Margaret couldn''t help but notice the fresh paint job on Piper''s mech, adorned with the emblem of House Mercury¡ªa lone red rocket against the backdrop of a dark planet, now encircled by a ring signifying loyalty. The vibrant emerald eyes gleamed with determination, reflecting the fire burning deep within the machine''s core. Margaret could feel its energy pulsating, hoping it would ignite something within Piper herself.

    A Mercury ''Paladin'' 2.5: WarCasket Model¡ªa formidable force on the battlefield, capable of lightning-fast maneuvers and armed with a minigun, a weapon Piper wielded with skill. Piper bit her lip, feeling the rhythmic thump of her own WarCasket as she erupted into laughter at the sensation, even amid the cacophony of gunfire and missile dodging.

    Sweat trickled from beneath her helmet, and with a frustrated gesture, she ripped it off, allowing her shoulder-length, orange-brown curls to cascade freely. "Damn you!" she screamed into her microphone. "You''re dead, so dead!"

    Margaret''s eyes narrowed as she observed the opposing mech, its insignia emblazoned proudly on the right shoulder¡ªa Mockingbird of Earth, its wings outstretched, but marred by a chain that disappeared into the metal depths.

    Armed with a beam rifle, the opponent charged forward, weaving and dodging as he closed the distance. Meanwhile, Piper soared into the sky, thrusters blazing, raining down gunfire from her minigun. Margaret winced at the close calls, muttering beneath her breath, "Be careful, Piper."

    A shuffle of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned to see two figures approaching, clad in the unmistakable orange jumpsuits of Mercury. They exchanged a glance before smirking at her, and despite herself, Margaret felt a smile tug at her lips.

    "Hey, Margaret," Lucas Solaris greeted, his mop of untamed blond hair peeking out from beneath his beanie. Marcus Emberly remained silent, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, radiating an aura of quiet intensity. Margaret''s heart quickened as she took in his sturdy build and the darkness of his skin, his afro impeccably maintained.

    "So, Luke will say hi, but you won''t?" she quipped, meeting Marcus''s gaze.

    "Hi¡­I guess," Marcus replied with a shrug.

    Lucas chuckled, keenly sensing the tension between his friend and Margaret. "We just got back from Academy City, grabbed some burgers," he explained, his gaze drifting toward the ongoing battle. Despite the chaos, the arena''s shield technology muted the sounds, creating a surreal atmosphere more akin to a stadium than a battlefield.

    "I thought I saw Piper duel someone already today?" Lucas piped up, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

    "Oof," Marcus chimed in. "Does that mean two losses now?"

    "In a row," Lucas confirmed, and the boys burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the empty bleachers.

    Margaret shot them a reproachful look. "Oh, shut up. Do not tease her."

    "Come on," Lucas retorted, his grin widening. "You know I''m just joshing her. Heck, everyone knows how much I love our pilot..."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Margaret waved off, her attention returning to the arena. Piper soared through the air, executing graceful spins as she closed in on the mockingbird of Earth. But the enemy mech, its engines ablaze with green fire, suddenly shot upward.

    Piper''s smile faltered as she throttled her own mech forward, flames billowing from its engines in pursuit. Higher and higher they climbed until...

    "Huh?" Piper exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

    The mockingbird paused, revealing hidden compartments brimming with missiles. In a split second, they launched toward her.

    "Oh, shit!" Marcus exclaimed, instinctively stepping back and grabbing his bag. Even Margaret was stunned. "It''s a medium chassis, how the heck is he able to..."

    But Margaret''s attention shifted to the enemy''s arsenal. A unique energy pistol and a missile launcher adorned his mech, showcasing its deadly capabilities beneath its sturdy exterior.

    Piper dodged and weaved, evading the barrage of missiles. "Woah," Marcus murmured, pointing with a smirk. Margaret''s heart fluttered at the sight, and she allowed herself a faint smile. "She''s actually dodging it."

    "Five, six¡ªoh, good job, Pipes!" Lucas cheered, but his praise was short-lived as Piper''s mech took a direct hit to the shoulder, followed by several more. Margaret winced with each impact.

    "Ten-thousand dollar thrusters, hundreds of thousands on that chassis, and now that missile system along her back is spent and going to be junk," Margaret observed grimly, her eyes fixed on the dueling center as it blipped. Time seemed to freeze as the mechs were enveloped in an invisible electrical field, gradually descending to the ground over the next five minutes. As the duel ended, the trio made their way toward the gate, the weight of defeat heavy in the air.

    "Woah, it''s really not been Piper''s week," remarked Lukas, his tone tinged with a hint of disbelief.

    "Lukas, shut up, man," Marcus snapped, his frustration palpable.

    "It''s true," Margaret surprisingly agreed, her voice heavy with resignation. The arena was slowly returning to normalcy, the crackling electrical currents fading as the defeated mechs lay scattered on the floor, Piper''s once-proud suit now reduced to little more than scrap metal.

    Margaret''s hands moved to cover her face. "This report is going to be a nightmare to write," she muttered.

    Marcus scoffed at her remark. "Yeah, right," he retorted.

    "What do you mean?" Margaret inquired, her curiosity piqued.

    "A report, that''s all she''s going to get out of this," Marcus explained, his tone bitter. He gestured toward himself. "If it was me or Lucas and we lost two to three duels in a row, Zephyr would''ve either traded us for someone else or simply booted us."

    "Bro, don''t say that," Lucas interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension.

    However, Margaret couldn''t help but acknowledge the truth in Marcus''s words. "He''s not entirely wrong," she reluctantly admitted, her mind already racing with thoughts of the financial repercussions of their defeat.

    "We''re going to have to get new parts to swap out," she announced, her voice heavy with resignation.

    "Whose account?" Marcus demanded, his tone accusatory.

    Lucas sighed. "...we can always switch parts out of WarCaskets," he suggested, trying to find a solution amidst the disappointment.

    "Good," Marcus replied curtly, his earlier joviality replaced by a somber seriousness. "So, after class tomorrow and when everyone heads over to the guild for missions and networking, we''ll cannibalize your own parts, for our ace."

    Lukas attempted to protest. "Hey, I wasn''t..." but he trailed off with a heavy groan, realizing the futility of his argument.

    Lukas turned to Margaret, his expression grave. "How bad is this?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

    Margaret let out a heavy sigh, her voice laden with frustration. "The last duel with Logan changed her. You have to remember that all the first years saw that, and she¡­Zephyr blames her for our lack of new recruits."

    Marcus snorted derisively. "How the hell is that her fault?" He sneered. "The only reason why she had to get involved was because she had to clean up Clive''s mess. If Simon only stayed here and¡­"

    Margaret cut in, her tone matter-of-fact. "Piper allowed for him to transfer to House Neptune. It was a fair and good trade. Clive got drunk with his cronies and attacked his girlfriend, that was wrong¡­"

    "I don''t understand why Zephyr protects him," Lucas interjected, his voice tinged with frustration.

    His gaze darted between Marcus and Margaret, who remained silent, their thoughts unspoken.

    "Come on, guys," Lucas urged, his irritation palpable. "I go on missions all the time with our guys, but we don¡¯t leave behind a mess like Clive does."

    Still, they remained silent, their expressions inscrutable. Lucas sneered as he pressed on.

    But it was Marcus who broke the silence. "A man like Clive has his uses, and I imagine that someone like Zephyr doesn¡¯t mind having him around."

    Lucas continued, his tone growing more ominous. "Someone like that," he paused, wrapping his arms around himself as if warding off a chill. "Someone like that¡­they are going to do something, and they are going to take it too far. Heck, this interaction with Simon¡¯s girlfriend already speaks volumes."

    There was a moment of silence as they walked, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, it was Margaret who spoke up tentatively.

    "She lost against Logan and had to be saved by some hick, and now these losses¡­Atticus," Margaret hesitated, "I honestly believe that she''s just rattled. The loss from Logan, maybe she just needs a good win to shake her from her slump."

    Marcus sighed heavily. "Maybe," he conceded. "But, Zephyr¡­if she keeps on going on like this, Margaret, you''re not na?ve. We have hardly enough money to house our own guys, he''ll strip her of being our ace, and he''ll just hand it over to someone else."

    Lucas sneered bitterly. "Maybe, Clive¡­knowing how much Zephyr loves him." He snapped his fingers, the anger draining from him. "Yeah, she really was our ace," he acknowledged, turning towards the mech corpse. "I couldn¡¯t imagine in a million years this happening. She¡¯s a damn headhunter. Marcus, remember that time with Aria Stardust."

    Marcus snapped his fingers, a sly grin playing on his lips. ¡°I remember that time. She shot through both her legs at the same time.¡±

    Margaret rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips as she reminisced about the past. ¡°Yeah, those were the times, but Piper is just in a little rut right now.¡± Marcus responded with an eye roll of his own.

    ¡°When is that going to end?¡± Lukas inquired, a sense of concern in his voice.

    ¡°We don¡¯t got that many mechs to be expunging like this, Margaret,¡± Marcus replied curtly, cutting to the core of the matter. ¡°Whose was this one pulled out of storage?¡±

    Margaret narrowed her eyes, a hint of defensiveness in her gaze. ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡±

    Lukas, sensing an underlying tension, glanced between them. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he questioned, realizing there was something more beneath the surface, a silent standoff.

    ¡°A rotten rumor,¡± Margaret dismissed with a scoff.

    But Marcus, unyielding, sneered. ¡°Really, so you don¡¯t think it¡¯s impossible for Zephyr to have resorted to this,¡± he turned to Lucas, sharing the unsettling revelation. ¡°There has been talk of Zephyr taking WarCaskets off of Mercurian dead.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Lukas''s eyes widened, taking a step back. ¡°Woah,¡± he muttered, shaking his head and turning towards Margaret. ¡°Woah, Woah, Woah¡­¡± he repeated, his disbelief evident. ¡°You can¡¯t be doing that.¡±

    Margaret, arms wrapped around herself, shot a defiant glare at the pair. ¡°It¡¯s a rotten rumor, that¡¯s like desecrating someone¡¯s gravesite. I can understand taking parts and weapons, but Zephyr¡­he¡¯s just stressed out.¡±

    ¡°Stressed out?¡± Marcus repeated, rolling his eyes. The door began to open, gates winding, and Marcus took the lead. ¡°He¡¯s as sly as a rat,¡± he declared firmly.

    The three walked toward Piper¡¯s ruined mech, the setting sun casting long shadows.

    "Why does she keep pushing herself like this?" Lucas queried, his voice tinged with concern.

    Marcus shrugged, his gaze flicking toward Margaret before he spoke. "Piper has always had a penchant for fighting," he remarked, pausing for effect. "She once told me there''s honor in battling from a WarCasket."

    Lucas erupted into laughter, incredulous. "Really?" he exclaimed. "I''d expect that from some feudal Martian warrior, not Piper. She''s the last person I''d imagine to have such warrior honor."

    ¡°Thought she was smarter than that to.¡± Stated Marcus, not paying attention to the look Margaret was shooting at him.

    Margaret shrugged, offering her perspective. "She grew up in a town on a relatively safe world, had a decent education," she explained. Their conversation halted abruptly as the cockpit was pried open, Piper emerging, breathless and sweaty, her hands trembling as she sought balance.

    "But you know what being a Core-Worlder means," Piper asserted, her tone determined. "You can become an elite, even a king in some places. Graduating to a house here can change your life, and the lives of those around you."

    "So Piper''s chasing that dream," Lucas concluded.

    "Family," Margaret murmured softly.

    "Family," Marcus echoed, his voice tender. "Many people here are chasing that dream. Have you noticed the number of students leaving the house, the stress they''re under? That''s what they''re after."

    Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. "It''ll separate the weak from the strong," he remarked to Marcus, a smirk playing on his lips. "Mercury''s already got too many freeloaders. Let them go; maybe we''ll get something better in return."

    Margaret rolled her eyes. "They need to tough it out and finish their years here," she insisted.

    "Damn it, Margaret," Marcus interjected. "This place is tough. You know that. This school isn''t like any other."

    "But you''re still here," Margaret countered.

    "Yeah, and..." Marcus trailed off, his tone heavy.

    He fixed her with a glare. "Like you said, this is a different kind of school. We''re among the best of the best. We rub shoulders with royal heirs, the offspring of democratic leaders and dictators, famous figures like Logan of Neptune. If one of them recognizes our talent, our lives are changed forever," he emphasized, his words hanging in the air.

    His gaze narrowed as he turned away, watching as Piper struggled to climb out of her WarCasket, then rushed to support her. His final words drifted back to Margaret. "I''ve taken lives, Margaret. I never had to do that until I came here," he confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of his revelation. "Giving up is the hardest thing to do."

    And with that, silence descended upon them.

    Marcus helped Piper down, noting the strain in her breathing. Despite knowing he''d get a punch for saying it, he couldn''t ignore the traces of tears on her cheeks.

    The other WarCasket pilot emerged from his cockpit, light brownish hair tousled and glasses perched on his features as he observed them from a distance.

    "Good game!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with happiness.

    "What''s wrong with you, bro?" Lukas shouted, his laughter echoing through the air as Atticus stood in shocked surprise. "Dueling etiquette, man, dueling etiquette!" he felt compelled to reiterate.

    Atticus looked at them quizzically. "What''s wrong?" he inquired.

    "She''s already dueled twice today!" Lukas bellowed back. "You think you won? You beat an exhausted female pilot, big man. How does it feel to beat a tired and worn-out girl? That''s probably how you win all your victories!"

    And Lukas''s laughter rolled on.

    "Man," Atticus replied solemnly as he turned away. "Sick of this shit. I didn''t know it was her second duel!" he snapped, storming off toward the garage section beneath the bleachers, into the underground recesses.

    "Well, Piper, that makes five," Lukas remarked, turning to Piper as heat radiated from her gaze.

    Piper snorted, her anger and annoyance palpable as they began to walk.

    Marcus chuckled at Lukas''s words. "How are you doing, Piper?" Margaret inquired, though Piper was only shooting daggers at the two boys who had joined them, casting her looks.

    "Come on, Pipes, we''re just joking," Lukas said.

    Marcus continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "A Martian would''ve respected you enough to grant you a single loss, a Plutonian would''ve simply shot you dead, but a Neptunian?"

    Piper practically seethed within Margaret''s grasp. "You bastards, you''re the worst!" she shouted, but when they turned back to her, their faces a mix of shock and concern, all the anger melted away into irritation.

    "Piper, are you okay?" Lukas asked.

    Marcus nodded in agreement. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said.

    Piper''s breath still came in heavy, a testament to the toll the duel had taken. Margaret sighed, turning her gaze to them. "Piper''s going through a rough patch, like I said."

    "Maybe, if you win a duel..." Lukas began, but Piper raised her hands to speak. He quickly continued, cutting her off. "Maybe winning another duel is all you need to get back into the flow of things."

    Piper stared at him, her expression aimless. Lukas shrugged. "Maybe your confidence is just a bit bruised. You went up against Logan of Neptune."

    Marcus turned his gaze toward Piper, a sneer tugging at the corners of his lips. "Piper, I care about you... I care about all of you. I want us to graduate together, to one day work side by side and shape the Mercurian Sector into something magnificent. ''We Hammer The Nails''¡ªthose are our words. That''s our mission. But pay attention to the ''we'' in that sentence. Don''t be so fixated on this duel that you lose sight of those around you. We''re all in this together," he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of determination.

    With those words, Marcus turned away, and the others followed after him, the gravity of his message settling upon them like a heavy fog.

    The campus sprawled out before him, a verdant expanse stretching to the horizon. It was a marvel, flanked by the serene countryside on two sides and the bustling metropolis on the others. But none of that mattered now. Henryk was trapped in a world of grey uncertainty, and today marked his final chance.

    If he couldn''t secure a place in one of the houses by day''s end, expulsion awaited him. His jaw clenched with determination. Only two options remained, despite not having explored every possibility. He had seen enough.

    As he paced through the throngs of students, he noticed a shift. Where once he swam in a sea of grey, now he navigated a kaleidoscope of colors. His thoughts drifted to the recent party, where Mag had proudly joined Mercury and Jose had conspicuously avoided him. Before, Jose had seemed slippery, but could Henryk really blame him? The realization seemed to flicker in the eyes of those around him. They knew, or at least the house leaders did.

    Neptune was out of the question after their treatment of Ty. Venus was tainted by Jace and his deceitful sister. Pluto had already rejected him based on his reputation. Earth House was preoccupied with political discussions, offering little interest in recruitment.

    Other options existed, like Jupiter and Uranus, but rumors swirled about their exclusivity. Jupiter''s witches only accepted females, while Uranus remained aloof, rarely reaching out beyond their own mutated ranks.

    Henryk paused, his gaze fixed on the imposing red-bricked structure of House Mercury. Standing before its massive wooden doors, he noted the absence of guards, a sign that they were winding down for the day. His thoughts drifted to his family, his world, in need of his success here. He couldn''t afford to falter now, not after the time that had passed since he last saw them. It felt like ages, though it had only been a week. Returning home empty-handed was not an option.

    With a heavy sigh, he pushed open the doors and stepped inside House Mercury.

    Meanwhile, Piper lounged on her bed, lost in the solace of her white T-shirt and underwear, music flooding her ears through black headphones. A summons from Zephyr interrupted her tranquility, prompting a frustrated groan. Reluctantly, she pulled on her pants and made her way to his office, sensing trouble brewing.

    Sharing a dorm with Margaret, Piper made her way through the familiar space, past their adjoining beds, toward the bathroom they were fortunate to have. Once dressed, she steeled herself, reminding herself to keep her cool and apologize. As she approached Zephyr''s door, her pulse quickened.

    Opening the door, Piper was met with an unexpected sight. Margaret stood beside Zephyr, a smile playing on her lips. Zephyr himself leaned forward, fingers interlaced, his demeanor unreadable. But it was the third person in the room who caught Piper''s attention, his mop of black hair obscuring his face. When he turned to her, she was struck by his piercing dark blue eyes, his presence commanding attention, and drawing her in with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

    A flush of embarrassment tinted Piper''s cheeks momentarily, but she swiftly pushed the feeling aside, steeling herself for the situation at hand.

    "What''s this all about?" she demanded, her voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as she spoke. With hands planted firmly on her hips, she approached with a cautious smile playing on her lips.

    Zephyr took the lead, introducing the mysterious figure seated before them. "This is Henryk," he began, glancing over at the young man for confirmation.

    "Henryk Brown," Henryk clarified.

    Piper''s eyes widened in recognition. "Henryk?" she echoed, a sudden realization dawning on her. "It was you!" she exclaimed, the pieces falling into place.

    "Yeah," Henryk replied, his words drawn out, his gaze shifting between Piper, Zephyr, and the enigmatic Margaret. "It was you," he added plainly.

    A proud smirk graced Piper''s lips as she wrapped her arms around herself. "You''re the ace of Mercury," Henryk observed.

    "...and don''t you forget it," Piper retorted with a hearty laugh, her chest swelling with pride as Margaret observed with a sigh.

    "Pride doesn''t suit you, Piper," Margaret muttered to herself, recognizing the shift in her friend''s demeanor.

    As the conversation unfolded, Piper realized something she had overlooked during the chaos of recent events: she and Henryk had never met face to face. Now, in his presence, she found it hard to tear her gaze away.

    Margaret, catching onto the dynamics at play, resisted the urge to facepalm at the revelation.

    Zephyr interjected, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. "Piper, I''ve called you down here to discuss something," he announced, his eyes fixed on her. "Henryk Brown believes he has what it takes to be a member of House Mercury."

    "I do," Henryk affirmed, his determination evident in his voice.

    "As you mentioned, today is the final day for selection," Margaret chimed in, turning her gaze toward Piper. "If Henryk doesn''t secure a house by then, he''ll..."

    "I''ll be expelled," Henryk finished, his gaze sweeping across the room, a sense of urgency in his words. "I''ve already given you all my debriefing."

    "...and it''s pretty good," Zephyr interjected, his tone carrying a weight of authority. "Henryk Brown, nineteen years of age. You''ve been piloting WarCaskets since you''ve been..."

    "Eleven," Henryk cut in.

    "That''s quite young," remarked Margaret.

    Henryk shrugged, dismissing the comment. "My father was a pilot, and I followed in his footsteps."

    Zephyr pressed on. "...and these aren''t merely rescue or salvage missions," he chuckled wryly. "We''ve got tons of applicants who swear they know how to shoot a gun, but it''s just some frontier boy boasting about his grandfather''s old rifle."

    "Yes, I do know what I''m doing in a WarCasket," Henryk asserted. He nodded toward Zephyr''s phone. "If you don''t believe me, play the records of the duel between Logan and Piper... better yet, look up on the internet how I saved Logan with my blade."

    A silence fell over the room. Margaret''s gaze lingered on Henryk, his confidence triggering a faint smile. Zephyr, momentarily taken aback, managed a small, slow smile. Meanwhile, Piper''s cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and admiration for Henryk''s audacity.

    After a pause, Zephyr spoke, his voice measured. "Well, everything across the board looks excellent and well." He turned to Margaret and Piper. "I like him... what do you two think?"

    Margaret nodded, offering Henryk a warm smile. "He seems like an alright fella," she said, then added with a hint of concern, "We don''t have much space. I hope that doesn''t bother you."

    Henryk chuckled, his easy demeanor breaking the tension. "All I''m asking is to be let in so I won''t be expelled... you can give me a closet for all I care."

    Margaret sighed inwardly. Sadly, in Mercury, many would have settled for a closet over the basement.

    Zephyr sighed heavily, his expression growing serious. "Well, that''s all fine and dandy, but that''s not going to cut it..."

    The atmosphere turned tense as Henryk fixed his gaze on Zephyr. "Then what is going to cut it?" he demanded.

    Zephyr leaned back in his chair, his demeanor grave. "Are you familiar with what''s been going on with Mercury?"

    Henryk held Zephyr''s gaze for a moment, then shifted his eyes to Margaret. This felt different...

    "No, I''m from the frontier," he stated firmly. "We''re just colony cities."

    Zephyr regarded him intently. "You seem skilled. So, how about this," he proposed, turning his attention to Piper. "How are you feeling, Pipes?"

    Piper blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... fine."

    "Well, that''s good," Zephyr mused, stroking his chin. "I was thinking we could do a test. You''ve got your WarCasket from the video, right?"

    Henryk paused, his eyes narrowing. This was talk of battle and WarCaskets, something he was trained for. Something he understood from his father''s final moments¡ªa warrior''s spirit.

    "Yeah, I do," Henryk replied bluntly.

    "I''ll let you into House Mercury. I''ll even give you a nice dorm with another guy. Our numbers are smaller, but if you''re able to defeat Piper, you''ll obviously be worth it," Zephyr proposed. "I think you''d be a good fit for WarCasket-operated guild piloting missions."

    "Hey, if you can beat Pipes," Margaret chimed in, "you''d be good in human engagements too."

    "I didn''t realize the academy was so heavily fixated on missions," Henryk remarked.

    "This is how we test ourselves," Zephyr explained, a smile playing on his lips. "Don''t get me wrong. Some people''s talents lie elsewhere. I can lead, Margaret can fix a machine, and Piper can pilot... she''s killed people before."

    Henryk''s eyes widened at that revelation. He felt momentarily stunned, his gaze darting around the room. This was true. He''d heard of academies like this before¡ªhonor, glory, and creed, everything he wanted. But the risk to life and body...

    "Are you willing to risk life and limb in the arena?" Zephyr asked pointedly. "Beat Piper, and you''re in. But it''s the last day. We''d have to move you in and set you up with your own mech. Someone skilled is going to be moved lower, and there are many who crack under the pressure of the academy. Are you one of these people? I don''t know. But the duel will prove it."

    Henryk pondered for a moment. There had been times when he''d aided the other men of his colony with his WarCasket, but this was a real WarCasket-on-WarCasket fight. Yet, he sighed, his mind flashing to his weaponry.

    How many days had he trained with that blade? How many hours had he spent poring over videos on the internet, and how many more hours had he pored over textbooks? In that WarCasket, encased in his suit... he could fight. He could...

    For a moment, his mind''s eye whirled with a memory. His mother''s gentle touch through his hair as he cried. He towered over her now, but he would always remember holding her hands, her eyes urging him to look up.

    "Fly, Henryk, fly high," she had whispered, the first time the men from his colony pressed WarCasket controls into his hands. "Fly high above the clouds... You are your father''s son. You''re special. And only you can. That is your gift, that is your miracle."

    Henryk smirked, rising and turning to Piper as he approached her. He raised his hand towards her, and for a moment, she realized just how small she seemed. His smile gleamed white, and her heart thumped in response.

    "I guess you''re going to be my opponent," he said.

    She eyed his hand, a newfound vigor coursing through her as she reached out and grasped it firmly.

    "Let''s begin then," declared Zephyr, and with a clap of his hands, the deal was sealed.

    Soon, he and his WarCasket would face off against Piper and her mech. If he won, he''d become a member of House Mercury, and technically, a citizen of the planet. It was the first step on his path. But little did he realize then just how challenging it would be to carve out his own way, especially in this game of houses and rats.

 Chapter 17 - The Eye of Piper

    The dueling arena, as Henryk first laid eyes upon it, was a marvel to behold. In his nineteen years of life, he had never imagined he would actually witness such a spectacle. Yet, here he was.

    In the undercurrents of it all, he stood, duffel bag still in tow, leaning into the cockpit of his mech. House Mercury, he thought, was being rather generous. Allowing him to fight and showcase his mettle, even sending one of their own to fetch his Warcasket from the hangars.

    His hand traced along the console of his mech''s cockpit, a tight smile gracing his features as he flicked on the machine. Everything, within this mechanical behemoth... everything in his life just got so much simpler.

    Amidst the talk of witches, wars, magic, and destiny, as he gripped the controls with determination, he knew what he had to do. Within the controls of a Warcasket, life was simple, and his objective was clear: defeat Piper and emerge victorious. Better than going on some scavenger hunt to find a piss-poor house to sponsor him. At least these Mercurians knew how to get the blood pumping.

    He smirked, but his reverie was interrupted by static breaking in through the side of him.

    "Hello?" Henryk queried.

    "Hey, this is Henryk, correct?" The voice on the other end inquired, its tone distinct from the others he had heard.

    "Hello, my name is Marcus," the figure introduced himself, offering some clarity to the voice. "I am going to be your contractor for this duel."

    "Contractor?" Henryk echoed, his brow furrowing. "I''ve never had a contractor before."

    He could almost sense Marcus shrugging through his voice. "At the academy and during missions, you''re likely to have a contractor or a handler. My job is to serve as a technical advisor to you."

    Henryk fell silent for a moment, mulling over the implications. Did he truly want another voice dictating his moves during this high-stakes battle? After all, this was one of their guys. He wasn''t of Mercury just yet. Who''s to say this guy wouldn''t sabotage him, ensuring Piper''s victory?

    Yet, Marcus''s next words cut through Henryk''s train of thought like a knife through butter. "Zephyr wants to make things fair. I don¡¯t really have much experience with being a contractor, but I¡¯ve been a pilot for a good while here."

    "So, I am in good hands then," Henryk replied, his tone carrying a hint of reassurance.

    Marcus chuckled, a sound that echoed through the digital abyss. "You''ve got a weird manner about you, but you seem to be alright," he remarked, the rhythmic tapping of keys filling the background. "Got it, do you know the exact specs of your Warcasket for me?"

    "Why do you need my specs?" Henryk inquired, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.

    "Because Piper is going to be coming at you with all she''s got. You''re new, but that''s not going to stop her from holding back. Maybe that''s a good thing or a bad thing..." Marcus''s voice trailed off, his words hanging in the air like a foreboding mist.

    Henryk''s chuckle reverberated through the cockpit, causing Marcus to momentarily freeze. "Hah, I don¡¯t need someone to pull their punches," Henryk retorted, his confidence palpable.

    Marcus paused, his eyes fixed on the glowing screen before him, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "This is going to be a good one," he mused silently, anticipation coursing through his veins.

    Meanwhile, Henryk busied himself with the controls, his fingers dancing across buttons and dials as the cockpit blazed to life in an array of deep greens. "I honestly don¡¯t know what sort of parts I have," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the console.

    "But that sword..." Marcus interjected, his curiosity piqued.

    Henryk shrugged nonchalantly. "I¡¯ve had the thing for years, and I realized from Logan himself that it came from some factory on Neptune," he explained, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of mystery.

    "An evisceration weapon," Marcus muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he peered at the screen before him.

    "What are you typing?" Henryk''s voice cut through the silence, breaking Marcus from his reverie.

    Marcus hesitated for a moment before responding, his fingers still tapping away at the keyboard. "We are able to sync into your Warcasket. I am merely trying to figure out what parts and what we are going to be working with," he explained, his focus unwavering.

    As Marcus continued to delve into the intricacies of Henryk''s Warcasket, a sudden realization dawned upon him. "Okay, you''ve got an evisceration weapon, but..." His voice trailed off, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Henryk, where are your ranged weapons? The only thing that I see is on your mech¡¯s right shoulder, and it''s a..."

    Henryk¡¯s expression darkened as he brought his hand to his face, the frustration evident in his gesture. ¡°A harpoon,¡± he muttered with a heavy sigh. ¡°Along the frontier, we don¡¯t just use Warcaskets for battle. Sometimes clearing out asteroids or just¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, a harpoon,¡± Marcus interjected, his tone tinged with impatience. ¡°What are you going to do with that against Piper?¡±

    Henryk shrugged, a sense of uncertainty lingering in his movements. ¡°I was figuring that I was able to overpower her with my sword and¡­¡±

    ¡°Henryk, she has missiles and a minigun,¡± Marcus interrupted, his voice firm. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, that sword is impressive, but you better know how to use it. Your mech is pretty mobile from its lack of weight, so I would advise you to stay on the move.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s grip tightened around the controls, his mind racing with a flurry of thoughts. He needed to regain his focus.

    Marcus pressed on. ¡°How much do you know of the arena?¡± he inquired.

    ¡°Not that much, honestly,¡± Henryk admitted with a hint of uncertainty.

    ¡°It was built hundreds of years ago, and there have been many important people who have fought within it,¡± Marcus explained. ¡°But right now, you are going to be battling against Piper in a one v one. This is merely a scrimmage, and Zephyr does not want to see blood¡­ so, your inner shields are going to protect your cockpit while the main source of your target¡­¡±

    He trailed off, a sudden realization dawning upon him. ¡°Henryk, I know that old models liked to put Warcasket pilots in the head. Is that¡­¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Henryk replied, cutting him off sharply. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, my Rusty is old, but at least I wasn¡¯t that desperate.¡±

    Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. Some people forget about that piece of information because the arena needs to ¡®know¡¯ where the shields are going to go. Warcaskets now put sensory knick-knacks in where the head should be, and by ¡®cleaving¡¯ off the head or by overwhelming damage you win. Now imagine if you were in that head?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened at the thought, the gravity of the situation sinking in. ¡°Is that common?¡± he inquired.

    ¡°No, but when it does happen¡­ it¡¯s always messy,¡± Marcus concluded gravely.

    A heavy silence settled between them as Marcus continued to type away on his computer, leaving Henryk to grapple with the harsh realities of the academy. People have actually died here¡ªmen and women with his same dream. And he thought he would not only survive but thrive? The pride!

    His fingers tightened around the controls, the weight of doubt and uncertainty pressing down on him like an invisible hand. Then, a voice, distant yet familiar, whispered inside him.

    "Fly, Henryk, fly high."

    The words of his mother reverberated through the expanse of his mind, carrying with them a bittersweet echo of longing. But he pushed the sentiment aside, focusing on the task at hand.

    "I am ready, Marcus," Henryk declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

    "Oh, just like that," Marcus chuckled, the sound echoing with a hint of amusement. "Well, we don¡¯t have time to fuss over your kit. But I¡¯ll give you a quick rundown of this duel. Don¡¯t expect all the duels to be the same, but this is more¡­ informal."

    "Informal?" Henryk questioned, a note of curiosity creeping into his tone. "How is this informal?"

    Marcus sighed, a weariness lacing his words. "Usually, there would''ve been stakes involved. And typically, one-on-one battles are more publicized, but I can imagine people have better things to do than watch some country kid face off against our ace. Heck, that duel between Logan and Piper had spectators from far and wide tuning in to see the outcome."

    "...and Piper lost that one," Henryk interjected, his memory flickering back to past events.

    Marcus fell silent for a moment, his thoughts lingering on the past. "Piper is very skilled. Honestly, I believe she could''ve beaten Logan."

    "Then why didn¡¯t she?" Henryk pressed, his curiosity piqued.

    "Well, funds play a significant role in Warcasket construction. And sourcing parts from other worlds can be expensive and time-consuming," Marcus explained, his voice trailing off as if he had stumbled upon a realization.

    "It''s no real matter," Marcus dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. "Listen, Henryk. If you heed my advice, I''ll get you into Mercury. But you can''t underestimate Piper. It doesn''t matter how many years you''ve been fighting in a Warcasket."

    "Skill beats..." Henryk began, but Marcus cut him off.

    "Maybe you think like a Martian¡­ ever been told that?" Marcus chuckled, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. But Henryk''s eyes widened in response, his gaze locked on Marcus with an intensity that spoke volumes.

    "Skill, honor, and such," Marcus sighed, shaking his head in resignation. "Henryk, in these battles with Warcaskets, I''ve seen skilled Mercurians fall to Neptunians who win simply because of their parents'' wealth. Some of those kids end up dead. Don¡¯t be a fool, play it safe, and use everything at your disposal."

    Henryk stood tense, his palms slick with sweat, but he refused to let his nerves unravel him like a thread pulled too taut. He needed to be as unyielding as forged steel, unwavering in the face of impending conflict.

    "You''re right," Henryk''s voice cut through the tension, surprising even Marcus. "I may be a hick, a frontiersman," he continued, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the keyboard punctuating his words like a drumbeat, "but I won''t back down before the fight begins. Your money won''t save you when the blade of an evisceration weapon is at your throat."

    Marcus let out a sardonic snort. "I suppose you have a point. In the end, we all meet the same fate."

    "Some with more courage than others," Henryk countered.

    A faint smile tugged at Marcus''s lips as he regarded the young man before him. There was something distinct about Henryk, a stark contrast to the others he had encountered at the academy. Clive, for instance, exuded a predatory aura, his presence suffocating like the jaws of a beast ready to snap shut. But Henryk... Henryk exuded an unexpected calmness, a sense of composure that belied the chaos of the impending duel.

    Marcus found himself drawn to Henryk''s demeanor, a refreshing departure from the usual recruits. Zephyr and House Mercury didn''t need more bodies; they needed individuals with skill and character, and Henryk possessed both in abundance.

    With a smirk, Marcus realized he rather liked this one. Perhaps, if Henryk emerged victorious, there could be a chance for a connection beyond the confines of the academy.

    Meanwhile, across the arena, Piper prepared herself within her Warcasket, eschewing her casual attire for the practicality of her flightsuit.

    "He''s adorable, Margaret!" Piper exclaimed, a blush painting her cheeks a rosy hue.

    Margaret, as always, stood by as her contractor, overseeing the proceedings from the platforms perched above the arena, ready to guide her pilot through the upcoming duel.

    "Uh huh," Margaret murmured, her eyes fixed on the screen displaying the updated model of Piper''s Warcasket. It was a sleek, new version, equipped with a minigun and shoulder replacements, a far cry from the scrapped prototype.

    "He looked like a prince," Piper remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice. "All broad-shouldered and dark-haired. Sure, he''s got a rough way of speaking..."

    "Who knows..." Margaret interjected, her attention divided between the screen and her conversation with Piper.

    "Do you know anything more about him?" Piper pressed, her curiosity piqued.

    "As much as you do," Margaret replied, her tone clipped. "But don''t let him distract you. You''ve got a duel to win, Piper."

    Piper rolled her eyes. "What''s your problem? This is just a scrimmage to test Henryk."

    Margaret mirrored the gesture, her patience waning. But before all of this...

    "You want to use him to rattle Piper?" Zephyr''s voice floated through the hallway outside his office, where Margaret and he stood, observing Henryk seated within.

    "One good win," Margaret asserted. "Piper''s faced raiders, pirates, and champions from other houses. Logan shook her, but maybe facing someone like Henryk..."

    "Someone like Henryk?" Zephyr echoed, intrigued.

    Margaret crossed her arms, a determined glint in her eyes. "He''s skilled with his Warcasket, but he''s just a country boy. Think about it. He''s a mid-tier opponent at best, and Piper just needs to..."

    "...work her way back up," Zephyr finished, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced at Henryk. "Who exactly is this Henryk Brown, anyway?" he mused.

    "I''ve heard his name mentioned in the mess hall," Margaret replied. "But I couldn''t tell you if it was in a positive or negative light."

    Zephyr''s eyes widened at the revelation.

    "Really?" he murmured. "Well, let''s hope it''s good things."

    Margaret shrugged, a mix of uncertainty and amusement flickering in her eyes. "A bit of both, I suppose. But I''ve been keeping to myself lately..."

    "Hungover," Zephyr interjected, a smirk playing on his lips.

    Margaret shook her head, a wry smile forming. "Call it what you will."

    Zephyr sighed, his expression growing serious. "Let''s hope it''s good news. But regardless, I''m not betting our future on Henryk."

    "Maybe it''s still about Piper and Logan," Zephyr persisted. "People are still talking about her defeat."

    "What nonsense," Margaret spat. "That was ages ago. No one cares anymore. It''s got to be something else..."

    Zephyr brushed off her skepticism. "Whatever. Call Piper. We''re settling this before the day''s out," he declared, turning away.

    "I have a feeling about Henryk," he added quietly. "There''s something special about him."

    Margaret fell silent, her gaze lingering on Henryk as she followed Zephyr out, the door closing behind them with a soft click. Meanwhile, Lucas lurked nearby, hidden from view, his curiosity piqued by the political maneuvering unfolding before him. As he watched, an epiphany struck him, prompting him to veer in a new direction.

    "Lucas?" Marcus''s voice broke through his reverie.

    From his vantage point, Lucas noticed a growing crowd gathering at the overlook. The balconies, once deserted, were now teeming with spectators eager for the upcoming duel. Lucas couldn''t fathom why so many were eager to watch Piper face off against a mere newcomer.

    "Lucas," Marcus repeated, drawing his attention back. "We''ve got our own duel to prepare for, and..."

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Margaret and Zephyr are playing Henryk," Lucas announced, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

    Marcus blinked, absorbing the revelation. "What?"

    "Listen," Lucas pressed on, his tone urgent. "I overheard them scheming. They''re banking on Piper crushing Henryk to boost her own standing."

    Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, grappling with the implications. On one hand, he grasped the strategy behind it. A decisive victory might shake Piper out of her slump. But Henryk? He seemed like a decent guy caught in the crossfire of their power games.

    As preparations dragged on, the sun climbed higher, casting the arena in a hazy orange glow. Time was running short. If Henryk didn''t secure a house before sundown, he''d be...

    "They''re exploiting him," Marcus concluded bitterly, his gaze sweeping over the mismatched group surrounding Henryk. "Piper''s already got the upper hand with her weaponry."

    Lucas nodded, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Maybe we should throw a wrench in Zephyr''s plans."

    Marcus''s lips curled into a smirk. "Exactly. If Zephyr won''t play fair, why should we?"

    He flipped on his radio. "Henryk, you there?"

    "Yeah," came the reply.

    Turning to Lucas, Marcus outlined his plan as the stands filled with spectators, each section a riot of house colors punctuated by the occasional flash of gray.

    "That''s the kid from the party," Arthur observed bluntly, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. Beside him sat Axel, while Edward occupied the other side. Arthur''s cheers drowned out the murmur of the crowd.

    "This is a different kind of skirmish," Ed mused, his voice cutting through the chatter.

    Axel shrugged, nonchalant. Arthur jumped in, his eyes distant as he reminisced. "Back in my hometown, Warcasket showdowns were rare treats. Only the highborn could afford the spectacle."

    "Talking about Mars?" Ed interjected, his tone curious.

    Arthur shook his head, a shadow crossing his features. "No, I remember fragments... After Mars crumbled, I wound up on Tyyian II, a patchwork of feudal domains."

    "A realm of brutes," Axel scoffed, earning a reproachful glance from Ed. Arthur chuckled, unperturbed. He popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth, his gaze scanning the crowd.

    "Strange to think... we could''ve been the savages," Arthur mused, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ever wonder what life would''ve been if Mars stood?"

    The question hung heavy in the air, each man lost in his own thoughts. Arthur gestured at them, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "My father, my brother, my grandfather... all knights. I inherited my brother''s spurs."

    Axel raised an eyebrow. "You inherited your brother''s spurs?" he quizzed. "Usually, it passes from father to..."

    "Nothing left of my father to inherit," Arthur cut in sharply, the bitterness evident in his tone. Ed shot him a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before Arthur averted his gaze.

    As the holographic map flickered to life, Arthur marveled at the display. "Amazing, isn''t it? The wonders of technology woven into our world," he exclaimed, his eyes alight with wonder.

    Axel grinned proudly. "Impressed? In Venus, duels are our pride. We strive for perfection in our craft, honing our skills..."

    "Lot of ''we''s in there," Arthur noted dryly.

    Ed fixed Axel with a penetrating stare, a silent accusation in his eyes. Axel sighed, a hint of remorse in his voice. "My knightly lineage traces back to Venus... The Red Templars. After Mars''s fall, I joined my brethren..."

    "Cowards," Arthur muttered under his breath.

    "Easy, now," Ed cautioned, his tone soothing.

    Axel''s gaze bore into Arthur''s, a simmering tension between them.

    "Should''ve stayed in the fray... joined Venus, now they''ve got their own Martian hunt squads," Arthur jeered, his voice cutting through the air. "And what would you know, Red Templar, if those cursed spikes could speak? A yellow-bellied coward on the Martian sands."

    Before Axel could respond, the familiar strains of the imperial theme flooded the arena, drowning out their exchange. The massive screens flickered to life, casting Henryk and Piper''s images for all to see. The holographic map shimmered into existence, anticipation crackling in the air.

    Then, the whirring began, emanating from around Henryk''s mech. Logan, from House Neptune, had entered the fray, his voice laced with amusement at the sight before him. "Looks like he''s still being pieced together by the maintenance crew," he remarked, his tone dripping with mockery.

    As the screens went dark, leaving only their voices echoing in the chamber, shock rippled through the members of House Mercury.

    Lucas doubled over with laughter as Marcus answered the call, Zephyr''s enraged voice blasting through the radio. "What in the hell were you thinking?" he bellowed.

    Marcus let out a resigned sigh. "We found out about your little scheme with Henryk, and Margaret''s not innocent in it either. So, we leveled the playing field."

    Henryk''s mech remained the same¡ªa rugged, rusted relic¡ªbut now bristled with new weaponry. A two-shot grenade cannon adorned his right shoulder, replacing the old harpoon. On the left, a stack of six missiles stood ready for launch. In his left hand gleamed the Neptunian chainsaw sword, while his right gripped a standard-issue mech assault rifle, its magazine extended with a modified upgrade.

    Piper''s mech mirrored Henryk''s design¡ªbipedal and midweight. However, hers was a deadly fusion of weaponry. An assault rifle in her left hand, a menacing minigun in her right, with a missile launcher and an orbiting sentry gun perched on her shoulders.

    The duel kicked off. Piper, her smile sly, taunted, "Any parting words, Henryk?" His response was a matching grin. Guns loaded, Piper surged forward, the two mechs colliding in a spectacle of flying sparks and clashing metal that held the onlookers in rapt attention.

    Jose, representing the purple of House Mercury, watched the chaotic ballet unfold. The arena, a dilapidated city, bathed in the fiery thrusters'' glow¡ªPiper''s vivid blue contrasting with Henryk''s dark orange charcoal.

    Henryk''s assault rifle spat a cascade of bullets in orange and red lines, captivating the audience. Dodging Piper''s incoming missiles, he cried out, "Damn it!"

    "Center yourself, Henryk!" Marcus''s voice echoed. Evading another rocket, Henryk maneuvered skillfully, whirling around corners and unleashing a barrage. Piper, in hot pursuit, intercepted his grenades with precision.

    Quick and nimble, Henryk gained momentum, swooping down in a blazing arc. A powerful kick sent Piper''s mech hurtling toward the ground. Henryk, rising, launched a salvo of six missiles aimed at her, prompting a gasp from the mesmerized crowd.

    "Look at him go," Arthur murmured. The clash ensued, sparks flying as the mechs collided in a spectacular dance. Piper skillfully evaded another missile onslaught.

    "Nice try, country boy," Piper taunted with a smile, her comms buzzing with the imminent threat of missiles. She thrust upwards, deftly avoiding the rockets as her minigun tore through the incoming stream, a dance of destruction and defiance.

    Ed was taken aback. "Strange," he pondered.

    Axel turned to him. "Is there something amiss, President?"

    Ed shrugged. "When Henryk and I went to save Sirine, he wasn''t decked out in all this hardware."

    "Probably got lucky and scavenged it off someone," Axel replied nonchalantly.

    Arthur shook his head as he chimed in. "Can''t be," he declared, eyeing the new Mercurian parts adorning Henryk''s mech. "Those are Mercurian parts."

    "Mercurian?" Axel scoffed. "Maybe they want to keep things fair."

    As Ed processed this revelation, so did the others. Some pointed and shouted in confusion. House Mercury, finding their place in the bleachers, expressed a mix of curiosity and concern. Why did this country boy possess their much-needed mech gear?

    Piper soared into the air, bullets whizzing around Henryk. Sweat dripped down his face. "Come on¡­ come on," he muttered repeatedly, a mantra to steady himself as he throttled hard, Piper in pursuit.

    Piper erupted into laughter. "So, this is what it''s like to fight you, Henryk?"

    "Maybe," Henryk replied, attempting a strained smile. Initially in control, Piper was swiftly wearing him down.

    Henryk landed his mech amid the ruins of a destroyed street, bullets and rockets tracking through the night sky. He powered his thrusters, dodging and dipping.

    Whirling around, he released another full payload. "Christ, Henryk!" Marcus screamed over the comms. "Stop firing your missiles; you''ve got one last layer left¡­ use your grenade launcher!"

    The payload created an original smoke screen, Piper''s mech struggling to track Henryk. Everyone strained to see through the smoke.

    "Did he just disappear?" Stella''s voice rose from the crowd. Having witnessed Henryk''s capabilities, she recognized this as true combat. There was nothing but smoke.

    Piper''s breath came in heavy gasps, sweat lining her brow, and droplets obscuring the viewport of her helmet. She flicked the helmet off, trying to manually scan her surroundings.

    "Piper, get your helmet back on," snapped Margaret, but Piper sensed the girl''s lack of full attention.

    "Seriously, Piper... you''ve been..."

    Piper throttled back into the air. Her bipedal midweight warcasket hovered over the ruined city, her emerald eyes trying to trace where Henryk might have gone. The destroyed skyscrapers, the multi-colored rainbow of the Noble Planets, but no sign of Henryk Brown.

    "It''s the damn sweat, it''s been getting in my eyes," Piper replied. "I''ll be fine."

    Margaret sneered. "That shield can protect you against nearly everything, Piper, but even in arena-approved duels, it''s difficult to get out without a bruise or a scrape or a..."

    "You worry too much," Piper retorted. "Now, we''ve got to refocus. Can you try and scan to find Henryk?"

    Margaret nodded, and Piper heard the rhythmic tapping of her keyboard. As an observer, Margaret had certain privileges that a duelist didn''t, but strangely...

    "He''s underneath you, Piper," Margaret stated plainly.

    "Huh," Piper replied, drawing her gaze downward. "There isn''t anything underneath me except for the road or..."

    She started to wind down, keeping her guard up on all angles. Yet, she didn''t expect that Margaret''s words held the truth of the true struggle.

    Henryk emerged from the ruined road, worn rubble breaking apart and snapping like twigs as his warcasket urgently rose. For a moment, all Piper could see was the lone light of his Warcasket, and horror washed over her.

    "Hell fury and more!" screamed Henryk. Even against overwhelming odds, he smiled and fought with all he had.

    The duel grenade launchers fired two slugs. Both made devastating impacts that echoed and shattered the glass of the ruined complexes. One found its way along Piper''s chassis, the impact causing her to slam hard into a splayed mess against the ruins of a fallen building.

    The second slam against Piper''s mech helmet reverberated through the cockpit, where all the sensory and mechanical ''brain'' aspects of a warcasket were held.

    Piper''s head struck hard against the back of her chair, usually padded and comfortable. But the force of Henryk''s attack sent her spiraling, striking her head hard twice involuntarily, like a Piper-themed yo-yo.

    "Christ..." Piper stammered and whispered, instinctively tracing along her head and finding a forming bump as...

    "Piper!" screamed Margaret.

    "W-..." But Piper saw it. She geared herself forward and throttled upwards in an emergency maneuver. However, she could hear the way her machine thumped and pulsated. In red: Right lower leg compromised! It screeched.

    Moments before, Henryk had charged at her with thrusters blazing and rockets behind him. The engine of his evisceration weapon was purring, the teeth of the chain humming for blood. She dodged at the last moment, losing her leg in the process...

    The blade chewed through the spot with relative ease. Henryk stretched his gaze, throttling himself forward as Piper watched from below.

    With widened green eyes, Piper kept rising and rising, going along in a circular motion around the skyscraper. A trail of blue and orange, the onlookers stared in shocked surprise at what was unfolding.

    Piper whirled herself around and fired missiles and both weapons. A stream of attacks arose towards Henryk, as the young man employed maneuver after maneuver to hopefully thwart the onslaught.

    "He''s good," Arthur bluntly spoke.

    Axel snorted. "He may have the ace on the run, but he''s still some mindless hick... remember what he did at the..."

    He was stopped by a glare from Ed. "We do not know who it was," he declared, throwing his gaze back into the fray. He watched as the fight continued, a battle of wills. "I am not going to start deciding the opinions of men and women off of gossip."

    Henryk was close again, however, with a stream of bullets... Piper clipped his wings.

    The minigun, from far away, was manageable. But by trailing after him with it, and his other perceptions attuned to either the missiles or the assault rifle in her hands, it was just too much for someone to handle.

    The left arm took the hit, the minigun chewing up metal and servo as the once powerful Warcasket arm was rendered useless and hung slack. It nicked his fuel reserves, and one of the rockets along his back.

    "Your quick, country bumpkin. But the skies and clouds belong to me," replied Piper as she watched him fall back to the Earth, her thrusters still keeping her in the air. Almost like a biblical scene, Henryk plummeted to the dirt. "You''re fast, but not fast enough..." she added smugly.

    Henryk''s Warcasket UI screamed danger image after danger image. He was a mess, sparks arising from where the minigun struck deep and hard. There was loose smoke, and even...

    "Henryk, you need to stabilize yourself!" shouted Marcus.

    "What do you think I''m doing!" snapped back Henryk.

    Henryk flipped switches and turned dials. "I''m going to start purging and hopefully that can even out my landing."

    The six-shot missile was purged and flew off his back. Following it, the grenade launcher. Then, the mech assault rifle, and the...

    "Purge the sword," spoke Lucas. "You''ll be safe from the shield, but a fall like that is going to completely junk your mech!" he added urgently.

    But Henryk shook his head. His alive right mech arm pried the dead mechanical fingers free from the evisceration weapon. He took it in his right hand. And he smirked, the others watching in surprised shock as his left hand was ejected from his body.

    "You can purge body parts?" Lucas asked incredulously.

    Henryk only snorted. He started to recalibrate his Warcasket, realizing they were going slower and slower through the air. It would be a rough landing, but at least he would still have a mech to fight with.

    "If you recall, older Warcaskets had the ability to purge their body parts into the void... I imagined it was all that deep space mining. It''s easy to get stuck there."

    In Henryk''s closing words, his thrusters guided him downwards upright, his legs landing squarely with sparks.

    Atticus of Earth House watched ahead from atop the school''s music building. He cleaned his glasses and beside him, a burger awaited as he observed the unfolding spectacle.

    He looked down, and he knew Clarissa was part of that crowd. His hand traced down to his cheek, red, and he winced from the sting. His fingers rolled into a fist and frantically shook for a moment, but Atticus found his calm.

    They all observed as Piper descended upon Henryk. "Henryk, evasive maneuvers!" shouted Marcus.

    "You don''t think I know that!" Henryk snapped, half tempted to mute them.

    "Don''t be afraid to rip and rend with that blade of yours, Henryk," Lucas spoke. "I''ve seen what evisceration weapons are capable of in capable hands. Show us what you''re made of, show us why you deserve to be in our house."

    Henryk whirled around, slashing with a blast of martial might. The chains ate away at the barrel of Piper¡¯s minigun. Piper¡¯s legs locked to the earth as Henryk was about to charge.

    But then...

    "No," he could simply say as the missile payload was unleashed at him.

    Piper¡¯s box missile launched six heading towards him in an arc. All present watched with bated breath, expecting the inevitable.

    Yet, Henryk¡¯s mind flashed, traveling to all those moments. The times he noticed Sirine when the others couldn''t, the times he spoke with bated breath as the talk of mutants was drawn up.

    "No, I won''t lose!" shouted Henryk.

    His voice magnified, and even the crowd felt his defiance. Edward watched in silence, amongst the others as Piper could only stare.

    Henryk¡¯s eyes blazed an intense light brown. Powerful orange sparks radiated along his body, consuming the exterior of his Warcasket. "Que Fortify!" The arcane spell left his lips in a thunderous command.

    His Warcasket was caked in orange volts of lightning, a shield. As the missiles found their mark, the explosions didn''t knock Henryk away. Instead, the fires rode along him now.

    Piper watched in stunned shock, eyes widened and lips ajar.

    Everyone did.

    There was a mute silence as the sudden realization came upon them all at once.

    "Henryk¡­" Jace spoke, his purple eyes glaring at the radio in front of him, with his sister by his side and advisors gathered around, listening intently.

    Logan sneered, muttering, "That bleep mutant," his eyes fixed on the warcasket. "That disgusting freak¡­I can¡¯t believe he even touched me." Logan was relieved that the magical oddity didn''t taint their house any further.

    Piper glanced through the viewport, murmuring, "He is¡­"

    "He¡¯s a wizard," Margaret exclaimed, her voice shocked and echoing. She fidgeted nervously. "I never knew they could utilize their magic through their warcasket."

    "I assume it¡¯s like a medium," Piper speculated, a hint of excitement in her tone.

    "Never fought against an actual wizard before," she continued, clicking on the main mic.

    "You''re real interesting!" Piper taunted over the airwaves. "A hick from some backwater world¡­and you''re even a magician this whole time. Who knew!"

    Edward reacted with shock, followed by a thunderous laugh that drew the attention of the entire arena. "You really are something, aren¡¯t you, Henryk?"

    Yet, Henryk didn¡¯t grant her any grace. He charged forth, thrusters and legs moving, while Piper discarded the remnants of her gun. She drew her mech¡¯s melee weapon, a moderate-sized sword, and they clashed.

    However, Henryk activated the teeth of his chainsaw sword, brutally eviscerating Piper''s blade and impaling it through the side. Piper struggled to create space, attempting to aim with her free hand, but Henryk quickly kicked her away.

    "I-I¡­will¡­fly above the clouds!" Henryk shouted.

    The arena erupted with screams, excitement, and energy as they charged for a final time. Henryk hurled his weapon at Piper¡¯s mech, the activated teeth clawing through her gun arm.

    They screamed in horror as Piper charged with her remaining hand aiming for Henryk¡¯s head. Yet, Henryk raised his hand, his words filling the stage and resonating with all who heard, "Fire¡­," the magical verse continuing as he exposed his palm, a ball of brilliant orange fire churning within.

    "P-Piper¡­," Margaret roused as she saw the charging round. And they all did.

    ¡°Fireball!¡± Screamed Henryk, and the brilliant churning energy came crashing in a stream of blazing fury towards Piper. Piper was hit head-on upon her cockpit.

    She was thrown hard backwards, the weight of the blow carrying her warcasket through a building. The blow was blocked by the shield, but the damage through the building. Piper slammed hard against the console, blood decorating her vision, splattering across her features, and then the world around her grew dark.

    Henryk watched with heavy breaths. His Warcasket ceased to a halt, his right knee buckling from the damage, and the splayed, animalistic robot foot came splayed to support. He planted his evisceration weapon into the earth, and as the sun came down¡­

    It was Ed, that Arthur realized, a faint look of realization streaming down across his features. But, he smiled as the lone warcasket was touched upon by the setting sun of victory.

    ¡°Holy crap¡­,¡± Makena spoke into the phone, Atticus watching with green eyes.

    ¡°He did it,¡± spoke Atticus.

    ¡°The mutant did it,¡± replied Logan, and he and the rest of Neptune glared ahead.

    Franklin was around, and Logan would find him for later. He turned to the faces on the screen. Through supreme damage, Henryk proved his superiority. He eyed his features, the olive of his skin, the waviness of his hair, and the deep blue that one could swim in for his eyes¡­he¡¯d lynch him to a tree like the days of old.

    ¡°Henryk, you won¡­,¡± spoke Marcus in shocked surprise.

    ¡°You¡¯re a damn good handler,¡± Lucas spoke as he clasped Marcus by the shoulder. ¡°Say what you will about Zephyr, but he rose you up due to your roles as an officer. He knows how to utilize peoples'' talents.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± sighed Marcus. He cracked his neck and yawned.

    ¡°Let¡¯s celebrate after this,¡± spoke Lucas.

    He clicked on the microphone. ¡°Henryk, you¡¯re the victor!¡± he spoke loudly.

    Henryk was breathing hard. ¡°Henryk?¡± Lucas repeated questioningly. ¡°Are you okay, man?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± replied Henryk squarely, but he wasn''t fine.

    He was hunched over his console, stripped out of his jacket, wearing only pants and boots. Yet, blood trickled from his nostrils. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were a wizard, that was a damn good element of surprise,¡± Marcus spoke.

    ¡°Piper did not see that coming,¡± Lucas replied squarely, his eyes fixed on the camera.

    ¡°You ever had pizza, Henryk?¡± Lucas asked.

    Henryk paused, then shook his head. ¡°Really?¡± Marcus repeated. ¡°Well, we know a spot¡­a hard-fought victory deserves a reward for itself.¡±

    ¡°Well, that will come after the crowning,¡± Lucas said.

    ¡°The crowning?¡± Henryk repeated. His breathing steadied now, blood ceased. Luckily, they hadn¡¯t realized just how much that exhausted him. He was a mutant, some liked him, and others scorned him. He needed to be careful.

    ¡°You¡¯ll bear the uniform of your house¡­and you¡¯ll be finally admitted into an academy student,¡± Lucas explained.

    Henryk steadied his breath and smiled. Finally! Through all the drama, politics, and disappointment during his tenure at the academy. He had finally done it. He was a member of House Mercury!

    If he completed a certain number of years of service, his family would be allowed citizenship to leave for the core worlds, and he could gain fame and reputation to grow his colony and original world. He did it, but there was this¡­

    He stretched his gaze towards Piper¡¯s mech, still on the floor, chest to the air. ¡°Piper, you alright?¡± he questioned.

    ¡°He-n¡­¡± Pained and gasping for breath, Henryk heard Piper. He geared his mech forward. ¡°Henryk, what are you¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Piper!¡± he shouted, feeling something deep within¡ªa deep pain, the same deep sorrow he felt when he utilized his powers to find Sirine during the cluster belt incident.

    He geared his warcasket to a kneel and ejected. He ran towards Piper¡¯s mech, his heart thumping in his chest. Whatever happened was his fault¡­he didn¡¯t realize the strength of his powers, he didn¡¯t realize that the shields weren¡¯t¡­

    He grasped with gloved hands, wrenching upon the emergency opening as he peered into the cockpit. Piper¡¯s hair lay splayed along the brown cushions of her seat, her body drenched in sweat, the orange setting sun casting a glistening glow upon her pale skin. ¡°H-en¡­¡± she gasped and spoke.

    ¡°I need help!¡± Henryk screamed into the crowd, his gaze shifting back towards Piper.

    ¡°Y-you''re going to be okay!¡± Henryk reassured Piper from outside the cockpit.

    She chuckled anxiously, the shock of it all settling upon her in the moment. She stared up at Henryk through her green eyes, yet the right one held a glass shard the size of a TV remote, piercing her eye and sending blood and eye fluid in liquid tears down her features.

 Chapter 18 - The Wolves of Mars

    Chapter 18 - The Wolves of Mars

    <hr>

    Piper needed a gurney. An ambulance had arrived at the academy. Henryk sat on the edge of Piper''s warcasket, engaging in conversation with her. The shock left her hardly recognizing her surroundings. Meanwhile, in Henryk''s mind, a revelation unfolded¡ªif he had struck a bit harder, he would have been a murderer atop a mountain of horrors. A scrimmage! What had possessed him to use his magic? The guilt weighed heavy, and as his gaze turned to the crowd, the onlookers remained unmoving, silent witnesses to his display of power.

    The crowd pressed forward, and the houses looked on in shock and surprise. Even Logan, prideful and antagonistic as he was, felt a bead of sorrow in his gut. Now, in the green sofa of House Mercury, Henryk sat with Marcus and Lucas on the other end, while Margaret, Zephyr, and a grim-faced Zephyr stood nearby.

    "Piper, is she going to..."

    "She''s stabilized," Margaret interrupted Henryk. Marcus covered his face with both hands, and Lucas stared at the table.

    "What was that with you two," spoke Zephyr. "Why''d you outfit Henryk with more parts..."

    Lucas turned and sneered. "Maybe it was because you guys were trying to use Henryk."

    Silence settled in the room. "You did what," retorted Henryk, glaring at Zephyr. "What are you talking about?"

    Zephyr sighed and leaned back. "Don''t be ridiculous," he paused and turned to Henryk. "This was a scrimmage to test you, but we put you against Piper to hopefully light a fire under her."

    Though Henryk''s gaze sharpened, upon reflection, he found no reason to be angry. Piper was just an opponent they pointed him at. Did it really matter that she was in a rut? Yet, Lucas''s next words challenged his perspective.

    "Hold on for a moment. What was it that you said, Margaret, that Henryk was a mid-tier enemy, someone good enough to hurt Piper, but he..." Lucas sighed and nodded towards Henryk. "But look at you, countryman. You proved us all wrong. What was it you said before? You flew over the clouds."

    Marcus nodded sternly in approval as he turned his gaze to Zephyr. Watching the departing orange sun, a bead of worry followed.

    "Okay, Zephyr, a deal was a deal," and all eyes turned to Lucas. "It''s time for the crowning. Congratulations, Henryk, you are formally a citizen of Mercury after this."

    Lucas tried to smile, but his mind flashed toward Piper, and he gravely swallowed. "About that, Henryk..." and there was a pause.

    "About what," Henryk said, planting his hand on his chest, a smile creeping onto his face. "It''s time. It took a lot, but I am finally..."

    "Henryk, as the president of House Mercury... a deal is a deal, but this deal is made out of words. And like words, they were once spoken, but they are gone to the void. The deal is done... you are not going to be allowed into the house."

    Silence fell like a shroud over everyone. "What are you talking about, Zephyr?" Lucas demanded, rising alongside Marcus. Even Margaret took a shocked step backward from Zephyr.

    "He cannot be allowed into our house," Zephyr stated bluntly.

    Marcus glared at him. "Zephyr, you are going to commit something so dishonorable. A deal was a deal. At the academy, there are rules, ancient rules... you cannot break such a thing."

    "Why can''t I?" Zephyr retorted, pointing at Henryk. "He''s lied about practically everything."

    "What have I lied about?" Henryk asked.

    Marcus sneered. "Are you talking about the party?"

    Margaret''s glare was intense. "So, you''re acting dishonorably, and you''re more angry at the rumors surrounding Henryk... than the fact that Piper was hurt in that duel. Jesus Christ, Zephyr, she can''t see out of her eye!"

    "Don''t you think I don''t know that!" Zephyr snapped, sighing deeply. "I will issue her a top-of-the-line prosthetic, heck, I''ll scour the black markets if I have to. She''ll be whole."

    Margaret sneered. "You can''t be whole after that," she declared, glaring at him again. "Let Henryk into our house. We already have the reputation of Clive, and now you''re going to kick Henryk out for besting Piper... you wasted his time, and there are many that will shun you and even us for this."

    Henryk''s glare bore into Zephyr now. "Are you kidding me?" he spat, approaching and held back by Lucas and Marcus as he screamed. "We had a deal! A deal!"

    "Well... a deal is a..." Zephyr''s voice trailed off.

    Henryk only glared as he fought against them. "Henryk, relax," Lucas urged.

    "Yeah, bro," Marcus attempted to smile, but Henryk brushed them off, backing away.

    Marcus and Lucas exchanged looks. "Zephyr, Henryk is skilled, why are you doing this?"

    Zephyr sighed deeply, rising from his chair and planting his hands on the table. "Okay, fine. If House Mercury allows Henryk Brown into their ranks... they will make an enemy of not only House Venus, but House Neptune itself."

    There was a stillness in the crowd. "Holy crap," Lucas muttered solemnly.

    Zephyr continued, his voice sharp and cutting through the tension. ¡°They are saying they are going to beat our guys, kidnap our guys, interfere with our guild missions. Heck, they were even threatening to do a bit more if we really didn¡¯t back off.¡±

    ¡°So, the question is to make either the honorable or the dishonorable...¡± Lucas began, but...

    ¡°Christ, you military world brats!¡± Zephyr exploded. ¡°Your talk of honor is merely a construct of a bygone age made by the empire to promote a military subculture. A brutal concept that is one day going to be rendered extinct and democratized.¡±

    Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the table, Henryk glaring at all of them. ¡°Guys, come on, please...¡± All eyes turned to him.

    He placed his hand on his chest, speaking from the depths of his being. ¡°I know you don¡¯t know me, but I come from some backwater world... we¡¯re a bunch of slaves and refugees who were lucky to settle upon a world that the empire found and accepted into the fold. They dipped into the treasury for me to fund my tuition for all my years here... I am meant to be trained as a warrior. An ally to a house, someone ready to fight, someone ready to lead. I am meant to stand apart from the rest... look at what happened between me and Piper. Only I can fly above the clouds.¡±

    A profound silence followed. Zephyr stared at Henryk as he breathed deeply.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Henryk,¡± conceded Zephyr. ¡°You truly are someone that can fly high above the clouds. You saved Sirine and for better or worse, you¡¯ve attracted the coming generation of generals, royalty, and leaders. You''re special... and I don¡¯t even mind that you¡¯re a wizard. But you¡¯re a risk... I can¡¯t have another hot-blooded warcasket pilot around here. You¡¯re a good pick no doubt, but you¡¯d get us all killed by association.¡±

    Henryk''s face turned into a glare. He faced them all. ¡°So, you support this decision?¡± he challenged. ¡°Do any of you have any personal shred of honor left?¡± he demanded.

    He turned his head toward Lucas and Marcus, their guilt evident in their eyes. ¡°And what of you? You guys aided me in the fight, and now when I need you... now when that battlefield brotherhood is tested, you are going to deny what is rightfully mine.¡± Henryk spat on the floor. ¡°Damn you all. I won¡¯t forget this!¡± His final words echoed through the room.

    Grabbing his rucksack, Henryk made to leave Zephyr¡¯s office.

    ¡°Wait, Henryk...¡± Zephyr''s voice reverberated down the hall. Henryk paused.

    ¡°What,¡± he spat.

    Their gazes locked, Zephyr¡¯s unwavering. ¡°House Venus are a bunch of snotty rich pricks, but they¡¯ll batter you with bruises. They like to keep things clean. Neptune is alike to that... for normal people, at times.¡±

    ¡°And for wizards?¡± Henryk inquired, gesturing to himself.

    Zephyr¡¯s gaze turned steely. ¡°From what I know... they like to lynch their wizards.¡±

    Henryk''s eyes widened.

    "Be careful, Henryk," Zephyr warned. "Logan is especially pissed, he¡¯s fuming and it¡¯s the type of fuming that he may risk doing something on academy grounds."

    Margaret¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think they won¡¯t,¡± Zephyr retorted. ¡°You know how the Neptunians are with their genetic purity and such. Look at the way they dress. How they shave their heads!¡±

    He pointed at Henryk. ¡°Where are you going, Henryk?¡± questioned Zephyr.

    Henryk paused. ¡°House Mars.¡±

    ¡°Good then,¡± Zephyr said, clapping his hands. ¡°Then run, the sun is setting¡­ and while you have your time. I wouldn¡¯t want the blue house of the dragon to come after you. They believe they are of the master race¡­¡±

    Henryk sneered at that. ¡°I¡¯ve dealt with worse.¡±

    And with that, Henryk whirled around, not even turning to say goodbye. There was no time for sadness, or grief, or honor. Henryk glared ahead as he opened the door leading to the outside. There was only the time to reach House Mars and nothing else.

    He didn¡¯t think as he started running, launching himself down the steps as he felt the biting of tears within his eyes. He couldn¡¯t turn back, he couldn¡¯t look back¡­ those faces. Those damned faces!

    Guilt, shame, anger¡­ and now oathbreakers. They surrounded him like fleas, and when he slept he could feel the enemies around him. He made his way slowly, wiping the tears from his features. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and looked at the sun.

    ¡°Damn,¡± sneered Henryk. ¡°If only I had a watch or a phone, maybe¡­¡±

    Yet, he looked at the sun. He guessed it was the late afternoon¡­ he still had time! Yet, he knew that Uranus would not accept him, and Jupiter with their all-female roster, yet, it led to one person.

    For a moment, Henryk remembered Ed¡¯s glinting smile, a smile like a king''s. He was a Knight of Mars, and through his tenure at the academy, he realized that there were things in this world that needed honor. Zephyr didn¡¯t have honor, Logan didn¡¯t have grace, Gerald was content, and the rest refused him. Yet, it was Ed who aided him selflessly to save Sirine.

    He cut down a path, however, he failed to realize a group of five bearing the colors of Neptune walking. They were talking about something else, but the one with the eyepatch sneered as he saw Henryk pass.

    They were within the center of the campus now. He had planned to cut through the shortcuts that he found. But he failed to realize that they had been there for years while he had been for months.

    They nodded to each other as they separated in pairs while the eyepatch one went after Henryk, the others split in differing directions.

    Henryk maneuvered through the shadowed twists of the campus grounds, acutely aware of the unspoken rules that governed their peculiar society. The facade of civility crumbled behind closed doors, unveiling the true nature lurking beneath.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Within the campus streets, unpleasant memories loitered, like the echoes of the earlier beating he endured at the hands of the Neptune brutes. The party''s aftermath, a brutal reminder etched into his flesh, a stark contrast to the constant struggle he faced as a mutant.

    His senses sharp, he noticed a dip in the terrain. Approaching figures emerged, a girl adorned in the heraldry of Mercury and a boy donning the gray fatigues of Pluto. Their astonishment mirrored his as Henryk descended the small hill, rolled, and sprinted into the unknown.

    Pushing through dense foliage, Henryk''s footfalls reverberated over dead leaves, a testament to the fading summer. The last day loomed, a culmination of events that left Piper maimed, Zephyr''s betrayal unmasked, and only Edward remained.

    In the woods, a chorus of voices erupted, the word "mutant" cutting through the serene air. Henryk halted, eyes scanning the forest''s edge, tense anticipation etched on his features.

    "Mutant!" Another voice, a discordant symphony weaving through the woods.

    "Mutant!" A feminine tone, a mocking dance in the twilight.

    Henryk''s hands scrambled for a branch, snapping it into a crude weapon. He surveyed its contours, a brief recoil of disgust crossing his features before determination set in.

    Counting each step, he raced through the foliage, leaping off a river embankment. He knew he was close, minutes away from House Mars'' sanctuary. The tactics he''d employ there, whatever it took to survive...

    A club swung through the shadows, connecting with Henryk''s back. He stumbled, falling to the ground. Jaicob, the bald assailant with eyes fueled by hatred, loomed over him, his uniform discarded, revealing a mysterious tattoo hinting at twin dragons on his skin.

    Jaicob slouched forward, a wild creature in human form, and Henryk fixed his gaze on the approaching menace. A wry smile played on Henryk''s lips.

    "Quite a makeover you got there," Henryk chuckled, extending his staff and gesturing toward Jaicob. "Eyepatch doesn''t really suit you."

    Jaicob roared, an animalistic symphony that Henryk anticipated, closing his eyes for a moment, prepared for the impending charge.

    "Briskia!" Henryk''s voice cut through the tension. His left palm hovered, controlling the unleashed wind magic. A gust barreled forward, a weighty force colliding with Jaicob, sending him sprawling through the forest floor.

    Breathing heavily, Henryk heard Jaicob''s pained moans. "F-fucking Star Bloods!" Jaicob spat, resentment dripping from his words. "You''re a damn affront to the universe. You and your ilk shall one day be purged!"

    Henryk expelled a wad of spit. "Go to hell," he retorted. "Take your core world racist nonsense elsewhere." He leveled his staff at the struggling boy. "Do not make me ask you again or I will..."

    Jaicob''s strange smile revealed the tightness of the eyepatch. "Should''ve killed me when you had the chance."

    As rustling in the woods intensified, Henryk turned to face three or four Neptune figures, clad in malicious smiles, wielding an array of weapons¡ªbat, club, and knives.

    "Logan sends his regards, Star Blood," the girl sneered, approaching Henryk. He backed away, shifting his focus to the encroaching group.

    "Leave me alone!" Henryk shouted, his voice echoing through the expanse. Jaicob rose to his feet.

    More sounds enveloped him, and Henryk turned with a flash of realization. Now, he was the prey encircled by predators.

    Enter Logan of Neptune, armored in standard metallic plates, a trident in hand. His ocean-blue eyes devoured the scene as he flashed a charming smile to the Neptune ladies.

    "Yo, Henryk!" Logan called, waving casually. "Long time no talk. How about you give me a moment of your time?"

    Breathing hard, Henryk cast a spell toward an advancing Jaicob. The wind carried Jaicob, spinning him into a tree, and he crumpled to the ground. Someone hurried to check on the fallen adversary.

    "Oh, no need for that," Logan drawled, and Henryk wiped a bloody trickle from his nostrils. "Your space witch powers have no dominion over us, Henryk. We''ll rise again, as we always have. Harder, stronger, greater than before... these are the words of Neptune, Henryk."

    Henryk tilted his head, scanning his surroundings. "Well, it sounds like racism to me!" he snapped, a defiant edge in his voice.

    He surveyed them all. "What?" he lashed out. "You feel real proud of yourselves for the way you treated me, the way you beat up on Tyson!" He shouted, a raw intensity driving his words. "I am not afraid to fight you, and I am afraid of using what I am to deal with you."

    Raising the wooden stick defiantly toward Logan, the boy chuckled and leveled his trident. The weapon emitted a strange musical note as it danced through the air, a blade adorned with clear diamond jewels and teal plasteel design.

    "My trident... or your hick staff," Logan proposed, pausing to survey the room. Laughter rippled through the group. "Hick staff," he repeated, chuckling along with others. "You''re a real dowsy, Henryk. Henryk the hick, Henryk the hick with his little dumb staff... you fancy yourself a wizard, you dumb hick?"

    Henryk sneered. "I favor myself more as a pilot. Don''t you remember, Logan, how I saved your life out there when Piper was busy aiding Ed and Sirine? You owe me for saving your life!" he shouted, defiance in his eyes.

    Logan glared. "I don''t owe you anything. Maybe, within the feudal worlds of the empire, this talk of honor and words would mean something, but us midworlders are more sophisticated."

    "I didn''t realize sophisticated societies do ethnic cleansings," Henryk spat.

    "The strong must do what it takes to survive," Logan declared, his gaze filled with intensity. Henryk smirked, pointing at the unconscious Jaicob. "Is that your supreme being¡ªthe ideal human? Well, he''s knocked out cold, and I''m right here."

    In that moment, Henryk shed the identity of a mutant and became the ace pilot that could reform the trident. He sneered at the inherent cruelty, knowing the strong must be strong, and the weak can''t taint the batch.

    "You''ve disrespected us so many times, Henryk, disrespected me," Logan seethed.

    Rolling his eyes, Henryk retorted, "I didn''t realize you placed such high value on me."

    Logan growled. "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer... but you''re right, Henryk, you''re an anomaly, and that''s another reason." Pausing, Logan glared at Henryk, rising his fist, a palpable hate emanating from him.

    "You tried to assault Jace''s sister..."

    "I didn''t do such a thing!" Henryk shouted, a surge of emotion. He steadied himself. "I never had a father... I was raised by a mother and had two half-sisters. I would never commit one of the worst and most horrible crimes imaginable on a human being. Please, I''ve never met Jace''s sister before that..."

    However, Logan''s glare held Henryk in its grip. Unwavering, unyielding. He didn''t listen; he didn''t care. His purpose was clear ¨C to read Henryk his rights and hang him on a tree.

    "You disrespected Jace at his own party... went into his tournament and engaged in that melee. To top it off, you had the nerve to fight him after..." Logan accused.

    Glaring back, Henryk retorted, "You were there, Logan of Neptune!" His voice echoed through the forest, a defiant resonance that left them all in shocked silence as he continued.

    "I was in the bathroom!" he shouted. "I had no idea what occurred during that time. Our build and whatever else is merely circumstantial. But you were there, Logan of Neptune. You saw what Jace was trying to do to..."

    Logan clicked his lips, turning his head away dismissively. "What a man does with his bride is of no concern to me," he declared.

    "They are not to be married until the Headmaster''s demise!" Henryk shouted back.

    Logan chuckled. "...and I bet you''ve got that knowledge locked down. Don''t you, Henryk?" The others joined in the laughter.

    Fuming, Henryk felt the urge to hurt Logan then and there, but he had already cast multiple spells. The world moved on a rigid axis for him, blood streaming from his nostrils and lips. He coughed, feeling his knees go wobbly.

    "Ah... your magic is running out, little wizard," mocked Logan.

    Henryk''s breath grew heavier, the world spinning, blood leaking, and the strain of the magic and the duel pressing hard. All he craved was a warm bed, a great luxury at the academy.

    Trying to balance himself, he faltered. "What are you doing in our woods?"

    The voice, heavy and laced with malice, cut through the tension. A sharpened blade against a chalkboard. All eyes turned toward the sound.

    Past Logan, even he turned around with shocked eyes. On a small hill, about eight feet high, Ed''s leering smile stretched from ear to ear. Henryk breathed deeply, black stars biting at his vision''s edges. Yet, he discerned Ed''s form and the others behind him.

    They wore armor, catching the setting orange sun in steel grace. Bronze, teal strands, and matte black finishes adorned them. Among them, Ed''s plate looked the most noble.

    His armor gleamed in chrome steel, golden bands weaving intricate tales along its lines, though Henryk stood too far to discern the full story. Ed''s hair danced in the breeze, his triumphant smile casting a shadow over the sons and daughters of Neptune below. His left arm cradled his helmet, while the other rested casually on the pommel of his sword.

    By his side stood Arthur and Axel, both donned in armor, though unlike Ed, they remained shrouded. Their armor bore resemblance to old European Knight or Crusader Era suits, but with Martian enhancements evident. Unique packs adorned their backs, humming with power, unlike anything Henryk had seen before.

    "Now, I ask again. What are you doing in our woods?" Edward''s question hung heavy in the air, catching everyone, including Henryk, off guard. His narrowed gaze pierced through the Neptune ranks. "You better give me a good reason for why you''re here. After what you pulled with Tyson..."

    "You''re lucky you''re even allowed to draw breath!" Arthur''s voice thundered, his glare piercing through his battle gear, armed with a formidable two-handed longsword. "We warned you what would happen if you trespassed on our lands again. We warned you and your president!"

    "A deal is a deal, Logan," Ed interjected sharply. "Do you really want to report another conflict with House Mars?"

    Jaicob''s groan echoed into the void. "That''s real rich... this new House Mars thinks they can make threats, like they still have the strength to throw their weight around."

    Ed turned to Jaicob, then back to Logan. "They''re my brothers, Logan. Not just my guys. They''re the ones I''d die for, the ones who''ll have my back in battles and guild missions."

    Logan scoffed. "Guild missions? You believe you''ll still be allowed after your shaming?"

    The words struck a chord, silencing Ed. Jaicob seized the opportunity to continue, his tone laced with disdain. "Once the greatest of the houses," he paused, spitting onto the forest floor. Laughter rippled through the group, but Henryk remained unmoved, a subtle tension brewing among the Sons of Mars. "Do you feel no shame? Protecting a mutant... an abomination."

    "Who cares?" Arthur''s voice boomed with a triumphant laugh, reverberating through the tense air.

    Ed''s smile widened, and he nodded, turning briefly to Logan. "I like to call it aiding a friend in need," he said, his tone confident.

    Henryk observed the exchange closely, noting the subtle dynamics at play.

    Arthur gestured to the crowd. "Who cares if Henryk can cast spells? You do. But it''s his business," he declared, his words resonating with conviction.

    A feminine voice rose from the throng. "He''s a mutant! An affront to us all!" she exclaimed.

    Axel removed his helmet, drawing all eyes to him. His finger brushed the skin beneath his left eye. "He''s a mutant... then what the hell am I?" he challenged.

    A voice from the crowd responded, its tone measured yet firm. "You merely bear the genetic changes of Venus," the speaker, wielding a club, explained. "You are a son of the floating islands... such changes from the sun."

    Axel nodded thoughtfully. "We''ve all undergone mutations, even you Neptunians," he remarked, prompting a collective introspection among the group.

    "There''s no perfect or pure race among the solar systems," Axel continued, his gaze sweeping over the assembly. "Look at the Innworlders of Uranus."

    Some sneered at his words, their whispers reaching Henryk''s ears. "We are pure," they asserted confidently. Logan''s gaze remained fixed on Ed, though he made no move to intervene. The voices continued, their words tinged with fanaticism. "We are the chosen," one proclaimed. "It is within us to bring retribution, to purge humanity of its impurities and achieve perfection."

    For a moment, Henryk''s mind drifted to the pages of an old history book from his high school days. His thoughts lingered on Jaicob''s peculiar dragon tattoo, its angular lines reminiscent of an ancient symbol he''d once read about.

    Axel approached, surprising everyone, including Henryk, who struggled on the ground to stay awake. Axel''s possession of a gun widened Henryk''s eyes. It was unlike any firearm he had ever seen ¨C not an old Earth rifle or a Neptunian submachine gun. This was something entirely different, defying any pattern Henryk had encountered before.

    The firearm in Axel''s hands resembled an assault rifle, elongated and formidable. It lacked a stock, an oddity considering its size, and featured vents along the barrel. A massive magazine and a grenade launcher attachment completed the ensemble.

    Logan, like Henryk, took a moment to grasp the gravity of the situation. His gaze shifted between the weapon-wielding Ed, the downed Henryk struggling to stand, and Axel aiming with precision. A subtle smirk crossed Logan''s face. "You''re lucky, mutant," he uttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Today is your day. Enjoy the luxury of breathing another miserable breath into your abominable life."

    Henryk''s glare met Logan''s snicker. Logan turned away, addressing the Sons and Daughters of Neptune. "You win, Mars!" he shouted, waving his trident. However, his departing words carried a venomous warning. "Next time, they won''t be around to protect you, countrymen. When you''re alone, your ass is ours."

    As the Neptune group retreated, relief washed over Henryk, his fatigue evident in the breath he expelled. The Sons of Mars swiftly approached, concern etched on their faces. Ed, kneeling beside Henryk, offered a hand. "You alright?" he inquired.

    "I''ll live," Henryk responded, accepting the hand. As he stood, the others circled around, keeping a watchful eye on the departing Neptune stragglers.

    Ed, sensing the weight of the encounter, probed further. "They hurt you or anything?"

    Shaking his head, Henryk felt the weight of the unrealized danger. "More like what they were going to do to me," he admitted.

    Ed''s eyes widened briefly, followed by a sigh and a roll of his eyes. "People of Neptune are an old bunch. They believe in dragons and purity."

    "Dragons and purity?" Henryk snorted. "I''ve heard about the futuristic living of Neptune. Are you telling me people who cure diseases and drive sky cars believe in dragons?"

    Ed responded with a shrug. "Some do, some don''t. But sadly, more often than not, it''s the former. Logan of Neptune ¨C ever heard of his family?"

    "No?" Henryk questioned, glancing around. A glimpse of blond amidst the green caught his eye.

    "He''s second in line, a second son," Ed explained. "Neptune may have technological wonders, but they are very old school. His older brother will inherit and rule the planet."

    Henryk''s eyes widened, and his legs grew wobbly.

    "I-I... made an enemy of someone who is going to inherit a planet."

    His stomach churned, and the queasiness overtook him. Ed reached out to steady him. "Ay, relax," Ed stated, gripping Henryk''s arm. "Are you..."

    "I exhausted my well," Henryk gasped. "...casting all those spells gravely exhausted."

    "That''s real interesting and all," Axel''s voice cut through the air, his glare fixed on Henryk. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, adding an edge to the tension.

    Henryk steadied himself, gently pulling away from Ed''s grip.

    "Ed, I want to talk to you."

    "Well, I''m listening," Ed chuckled.

    Taking a deep breath, Henryk forged ahead. "Before we fought together, you witnessed my skills. You know what I am capable of."

    Ed fell into a thoughtful silence, wrapping his arms around himself, nodding for Henryk to continue.

    "I am here because all the other houses have refused to accept me based on a rumor. I have lost prospects due to my beliefs, but right now, on the cusp of expulsion, Edward, I wish to become a member of House Mars."

    A moment of silence hung in the air. Then, Arthur cracked a smile.

    "Oh, how interesting," Arthur mused under his breath. Casting dark brown eyes along the unfolding scene.

 Chapter 19 - Henryk a Squire of House Mars

    The Academy boasted a doctor''s building, but this moment demanded more urgent attention. Margaret found herself whisked away to the Academy City Hospital. Inside, the atmosphere was sterile, the colors bland¡ªa sea of blue scrubs and white coats enveloped her.

    Yet, Margaret''s focus zeroed in on the vending machine''s glass, its tantalizing treats beckoning. She swiped her cash card, selecting the coveted "Blast Em" Cookies. But fate had other plans; the machine jammed, mocking her desire.

    "Oh, come on..." she sighed, frustration mounting.

    Determined, Margaret approached the machine, gripping it with both hands, rocking it back and forth in a futile attempt to dislodge her snack.

    "Margaret, I can swipe to get you what you want."

    "Huh?" Margaret glanced up, startled, as a figure moved past her. With a swipe of his cash card, the same item slid out of the machine.

    Then, realization dawned, and Margaret''s eyes widened. "Simon?" she breathed, watching him retrieve her snack along with his own. "You''re here?"

    Simon nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to visit my girlfriend."

    Margaret opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, her gaze dropping to her shoes. Before she could speak, Simon continued.

    "Margaret, I knew you for a good year before I transferred. We''re not strangers anymore, and I still care about you and Piper. Neptune and Mercury. Does it really matter which planets we herald from?"

    Meeting his gaze, Margaret felt a warmth spread within her. "Zephyr, he always... he just gets so rattled up about everything. Many of the other houses stay friends with each other, but only Zephyr would preach about diplomatic missions instead of personal ones."

    Margaret sneered, crossing her arms. "The fool."

    Simon chuckled, a familiar sound that eased the tension. "Now you understand why I went to Piper for my resignation."

    They shared a laugh, the weight of the moment lifting. "It''s nice to smile and laugh again after all these hours," Margaret confessed. "You were pretty good, Simon Bolize."

    Simon smirked, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Just pretty good? I could handle my own out there. Remember our missions together... handler and pilot."

    "Nothing was safe," Margaret affirmed, a nostalgic twinge in her voice. "How many raiders, automatons, aliens, and whatnot have we shot down together in those missions?"

    "Too many to count," Simon echoed, his voice hollow, trailing off into the silence. He looked up at Margaret, who sighed heavily.

    "How is she doing, Margaret? How is Pipes?" Simon inquired.

    Margaret leaned against the wall, weariness etched into her features. "There''s a silver lining, the doctors said. The glass slammed so deep into her eye it could''ve gone straight into her brain with a few more inches. She can''t see anymore out of it. The ocular lobe or what not was damaged irreparably, and they just removed the eye. What a shit show of a duel that was. I didn''t know that boy was a..."

    "Wizard," Simon finished for her.

    Margaret''s eyes widened. "You heard?"

    Simon shook his head. "I saw it. I was watching along with Neptune when they got her out and placed her on the gurney," he recounted, a shadow passing over his expression. "It was some real rotten business. I don''t know what happened; the shields didn''t react to it or something?"

    Margaret shrugged, a bitter edge to her tone. "I think her inner cockpit sucked up some damage. She never wore her helmet, and when she was getting thrashed around, something broke within her inner cockpit and flung into her screen. The glass fell and it... struck her."

    Straightening herself, Margaret met Simon''s gaze. "It''s kind of a miracle, actually. It''s horrible to say, and I know she wouldn''t want to hear it now, but she nearly died today... this isn''t the 1920s. She can have another eye, a bionic one as well."

    "It won''t replace what was once lost," Simon remarked solemnly. "Look at the Mockingbird."

    "Atticus?" Margaret queried. "Even he is a testament that she can have a life."

    "But he must struggle," Simon affirmed.

    After a pause, Simon shook his head, his expression troubled. "But what of Henryk, of the Mage? What is going to be done with him?"

    "I''ve never seen anything like that before. I''ve never known that Warcasket pilots who were magically attuned could weaponize spells within their crafts," Margaret admitted.

    Simon absorbed her words, contemplating for a moment before responding. "There is much we do not understand after the introduction of magic within our universe. People are still learning... failing but learning. We maybe are just seeing the new strength of this generation of wizards."

    "Well, I don''t want any part of it," Margaret declared firmly.

    Simon let out a heavy sigh. "Listen, it was good talking to you, but I need to get back to my girlfriend." He made a move to leave but hesitated. "Is Clive back yet?"

    Margaret shook her head.

    Simon narrowed his gaze at her. "Was Zephyr lying about when Clive is going to return? I wasn''t under the assumption that Zephyr had access to these special long-running guild contracts."

    "Zephyr was not lying," Margaret replied.

    Simon fell silent, contemplating her words. Then, with a tense undertone, he spoke again. "Piper was the one that signed my letter of resignation. I was able to smoothly transfer over to House Neptune, and now when I officially graduate, I will be able to move there to aid my new home planet and house. I didn''t betray anyone, I didn''t pull a turn cloak... I got permission." His words dripped with restrained anger as he fixed his gaze on Margaret. "Clive is a mad dog."

    Margaret grew quiet, her gaze falling to her feet. "I did the right thing. And he could''ve come after me, but like the cowardly dog he is... he..." Simon paused, his voice lowering.

    He lifted his eyes to meet hers, a darkness lurking within them. "Once he arrives here, we will have a trial by combat. I am going after all his cronies, and once he is within my grasp, his ass is mine."

    With that, Simon turned to walk away, but Margaret''s voice stopped him in his tracks.

    "How did you get those bruises along your face, Simon?" she asked.

    Simon halted his stride, though he didn''t turn back to face her.

    Margaret pressed on. "You aren''t invincible, Simon. Clive is a coward who came after your girlfriend... but Zephyr didn''t send him away into the stars to protect him from your wrath, it was to protect you."

    Simon whipped his head around, anger flashing across his features.

    "You said it yourself," Margaret continued. "He''s a wild mad dog. Lucas has told me about how he gets in a Warcasket and on the ground during missions. I''ve heard horrible shit about him and what he''s done on the battlefield."

    "...and Zephyr protects him," Simon affirmed bitterly.

    Margaret fell silent for a moment, her expression troubled. "He''s a beast in human flesh. I''ve heard tales, and he''s kept his madness primarily off grounds until now. Hopefully, it stays that way."

    "Rumors are rumors, and truth is truth," Simon stated bluntly.

    "...and all rumors have a bit of truth to them. Don¡¯t they," regarded Margaret. She realized she was glaring at him now. Once they were friends, but this game of houses... sometimes it was easier to pay attention to the colors.

    Simon whirled his head away, and Margaret followed suit as they all went their separate ways within the hospital.

    Meanwhile, within the academy, Henryk was approaching House Mars. They cut through the woods now, later explained by Arthur that there were different ways to come through. Henryk was in the middle, and Arthur lagged behind, his sword pressed against his left shoulder as they strode together.

    "You''ve got the front entrance to the main school grounds, but we''ve got to do some repairing for that part," Arthur explained.

    "We were just out here for training," Axel interrupted, his rifle held firmly in both hands as they moved through wild, long leaves of grains.

    "You were very lucky, countrymen," Arthur remarked.

    "Don¡¯t tell me twice. I was planning on running through the forest," Henryk replied.

    "Luckily, when they ambushed you, we were around," added Ed, pausing in his stride. "However, that isn''t it. You wish to join House Mars?"

    Before Henryk could respond, Axel''s voice interjected. "Sounds like he only wants in because all the other houses had rejected him." His laughter echoed.

    Arthur snorted and turned to glare. "Don¡¯t be acting so noble and loyal, pretty knight," he jabbed. "Didn¡¯t you try to join House Venus and were rejected? Everyone has their choices... and Henryk''s path has just led him to us."

    Axel''s humor quickly faded, and he glared ahead. "Don¡¯t call me pretty knight," he spat.

    "...or what?" Arthur challenged.

    Before any more hostility could arise, Ed stepped between them. "Easy, easy," he said. "Save it for training or for future missions. I don¡¯t want us fighting amongst ourselves like House Mercury."

    Arthur snorted and chuckled at that one. Then, they continued for a brief passing in casual talk. Then, Henryk, for the first time, set his eyes upon House Mars¡¯s manor.

    It was a large house, more akin to a faded-away manor. Constructed of dulled red brick and in some segments wood, with many windows¡ªsome broken, some boarded up. Tattered and graffitied, Henryk realized in a glance that there was a beautiful blue stream that rivered around it.

    "Come on," Ed motioned, gripping the strewn-apart fence with ease using his powered armor gloves.

    As they entered, Henryk realized there was a slight hill to reach the manor from this descent. They walked upwards and came upon a wooden patio, with tattered remains of shattered and destroyed wooden seats.

    Welcomed in through the patio door, Henryk found others inside, more than he expected. They wore duller colors of grey, contrasting with the red crimson paint of dishonor. Some were preparing food within the kitchen, shooting him odd glances.

    "Join us in the living room," spoke Ed, who was now ahead of Henryk. They all proceeded, and Henryk paused within the entrance of the living room. His eyes surveyed his surroundings, feeling the dead history within the place, now akin to being in ruins.

    Edward observed Henryk''s reaction, sensing his awe. The size of Mars'' home was comparable to a medium-sized classroom. The floor had been dusted clean, with evident efforts to repair the flooring. A fireplace implanted into the wall rippled with rusty bars, and a heavy chandelier, brimming with rich jewels, hung from the ceiling.

    Taking their seats, more joined them, including a fancier-looking boy stripped out of his uniform, wearing a blue and white tracksuit with his chest popped out. He exuded confidence, smelling of cigarette smoke, with gelled and freshly combed hair, perpetually smirking, as Henryk observed.

    Then, Tyson arose, a beast-like presence but human within the eyes. For a brief moment, Ty¡¯s eyes widened in wonder and astonishment at seeing Henryk there. Henryk nodded towards him, offering a smile of his own.

    They were mutants. There was a kinship within that, and even in the silence that followed, Henryk felt it.

    Another one arrived, dark hair and tanned skin, his hair tied into a long braid with brown golden eyes tinted a deep red. Alongside him strode a brown-haired boy with freckles spotted along his features. Both of them had eyes tinted a cherry red, and a faint herbal smell wafted around them.

    ¡°What¡¯s this all about?¡± Isaac queried.

    ¡°We¡¯re having a meeting,¡± Ed replied, turning to Arthur, who coughed into his fist.

    He gestured towards Henryk, who had yet to take a seat. ¡°Henryk Brown, the druid, wishes to become a ¡®Son of Mars.¡¯¡±

    Silence hung heavy in the air as others began to chatter around them. More pushed through the crowd, and Henryk noticed the room quickly filling at the edges.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Thirty-five boys, thirty-five young men¡ªthe house''s manpower. Footmen, soldiers, pilots, and special units, true individuals harnessing their innate prowess to overwhelm the enemy, for the emperor and the royal family!

    For a moment, no one spoke, but Arthur''s gaze fixed on Henryk. ¡°I like your manner, Henryk. You''re brash, impulsive, and rugged¡­¡±

    ¡°Gee, thanks,¡± Henryk muttered.

    But Arthur continued, turning his head towards the crowd. ¡°We don¡¯t need some pansy boy from Neptune or a green boy from Earth,¡± he proclaimed, gesturing towards Henryk. ¡°Henryk is¡ªI recognize your accent¡ªa wizard. Where are you from?¡±

    Henryk paused, trying not to stutter under the scrutiny of all eyes. ¡°Nowhere,¡± he replied. ¡°I am from some backwater world that¡­¡±

    ¡°Good then!¡± Arthur interjected loudly, his voice booming with a smile. ¡°Tough planets breed tough men, and to rebuild the glory of our house, we need tough men!¡± He cheered, eliciting loud murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

    Ed nodded in approval. ¡°That¡¯s a good point.¡±

    However, Axel sneered. ¡°Being tough doesn¡¯t necessitate being a Knight of Mars,¡± he spat, glaring at Henryk. ¡°This Henryk of yours. I¡¯ve heard of him. We don¡¯t need some mindless brute that likes to brutalize¡­¡±

    ¡°Say that louder!¡± Henryk screamed, almost charging at Axel.

    But Henryk was held back, and Axel snickered, pointing. Ed did nothing, his gaze fixed on the exchange as others restrained Henryk.

    ¡°We need passionate knights, no doubt, but being tough or resilient isn¡¯t all that matters,¡± Axel countered.

    ¡°A strong knight wins the war,¡± Arthur insisted.

    ¡°And what of after the war?¡± Axel retorted. ¡°What of the people, of the culture that needs to be protected, and the mastery of discipline? Tough brutes need to be taught, but this Henryk has shown us this week that he may be incapable of being taught into a proper knight¡­he will surely dishonor us.¡±

    Isaac groaned audibly. ¡°Enough. We don¡¯t know who Henryk truly is. All I¡¯ve heard about the party was a mix of claims,¡± he paused, fixing his gaze on Henryk. ¡°Are you the antlered knight, Henryk? You fit the similar build and¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Henryk screamed. ¡°I was in the back, drunk as shit, and I could hardly remember¡­¡±

    ¡°If you could hardly remember parts of the night, then that could be¡­¡± Joseph began to interject but softened his voice as he noticed Ed¡¯s glare from across the room. He widened his eyes in realization, backing away and resting on the couch.

    ¡°What skills do you have?¡± Vinnie demanded, arms crossed, glaring at his comrades. ¡°What are we doing here? Let¡¯s get to the practicals.¡±

    Henryk straightened his back, words tumbling from his lips uncontrollably. ¡°I was the one who saved Logan from that boulder with my Warcasket. I spotted and aided in the recovery of Sirine. Hell, I saved them in that damn maneuver when the ship dug within itself! I know basic survival skills from my time on my backwater world, and I know how to shoot. I fought Piper and¡­while she was injured, my victory still stands, and I¡­¡±

    ¡°You were victorious,¡± Ed interjected.

    Ed¡¯s words silenced the room. All eyes turned toward him, and Henryk realized Ed had his own seat, a mini throne in the middle of the room, his words commanding attention. He was their leader, and Henryk remembered that feeling¡ªthe feeling of a leader, someone great with his own ideals.

    "Henryk, do you have any true idea what you''re going to be doing here?" Ed''s question hung heavy in the room, casting a shadow over the conversation.

    Henryk glanced around, wondering if Ed had posed the same query before, perhaps to others. "Yes, but I''ve been surprised by the new things I''ve learned since my arrival."

    Ed sighed, the weight of history heavy in his voice. "House Mars... it''s a different house than others, well, it was before the scattering."

    "The scattering?" Henryk echoed, intrigued.

    Arthur''s lip curled in disdain. "It''s what our people call the devastation of Mars. When the Empire and the Armies from the Houses descended upon us. They destroyed... and our world was reduced to ash."

    "Reduced to ash..." Henryk repeated, the gravity of those words sinking in.

    "It''s a severe punishment," Vinnie interjected, his gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to meet anyone''s eyes. "The King... or rather, the old king. He tried to attempt a coup when the old Emperor died."

    "The Eunuch Emperor..." Arthur spat, bitterness lacing his words.

    Henryk''s eyes darted between them, shock and disbelief mingling within him. He had never imagined the depth of their shared history. As he wrestled with his thoughts, he felt Ed''s gaze upon him, the unspoken acknowledgment of his inner turmoil.

    Ed pressed on, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Before, even then our ranks were quite exclusive, and we usually picked from our own stock, but there aren''t many Martians out there... fewer that survived the crucible, and now here we remain." He gestured around the room, encompassing them all.

    "You are speaking to the sons of dead fathers, young men who can hardly even remember what the red planet looked like..." Ed''s words hung in the air, a somber reminder of their shared loss.

    Axel''s sneer broke the heavy silence. "I remember."

    "Oh really, pretty knight," Arthur mocked. "What do you recall so much about it?"

    Axel''s gaze met theirs, his purple eyes shimmering beneath flowing blond hair. Surprisingly, he smiled, not with arrogance but with genuine warmth.

    "I remember the meat cakes... and I remember the festivals," he reminisced, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes.

    "I can remember things," Isaac replied, his voice trailing off into the depths of his memories. "Bits and pieces, but mostly sounds and figures. I was so young, and everything felt so much grander back then... makes you wonder how much was real and how much was imagination?"

    Ed paid no heed to Isaac''s musings, nor did anyone else. They chose to ignore the haunting whispers of the past, burying them beneath the weight of their present reality.

    "Our roster was small, but we''ve got a good number of engineers and our own guys with their own miscellaneous skills. However, we need pilots and soldiers. You''d be trained in both," Ed stated, his tone carrying a sense of urgency.

    "Trained?" Henryk echoed, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he surveyed the room.

    Ed locked eyes with him, determination flickering in his gaze. "You''re hardy, and your mind and body are young. They can be molded, and underneath the right temperature... a true knight of Mars is born."

    Henryk paused, the weight of Ed''s words sinking in. He had expected physical exertion, but the prospect of becoming a soldier was daunting. He had no aspirations of facing the horrors of war firsthand.

    "What does the training mean?" Henryk inquired, his gaze darting around the room in search of answers.

    Isaac raised his hand, offering a glimpse of insight into the harsh reality awaiting Henryk. "Have you ever fought in any real serious conflicts, Henryk?" he asked, his tone grave.

    Henryk shrugged, recalling the skirmishes of his youth. "When I was a young lad, I had to protect my baby sis, and sure there were fights and I was trained on how to use a..."

    "No," Isaac interjected, his smile tight but firm. "That is not the type of training I am talking about."

    Isaac turned to Arthur, drawing attention to the seasoned warrior among them. "You see Arthur there? He''s the oldest out of us, twenty-two. He''s six-five and was raised as a ward for a lord renowned for warrior strength. How many wars have you fought in?"

    Arthur''s sneer spoke volumes of his experience. "I''ve been fighting since I was fifteen," he declared, his eyes gleaming with the fire of battle.

    "Fifteen?" Henryk repeated, aghast at the revelation.

    Arthur''s smirk widened, his pride in his prowess evident. "Midworlders and coreworlders forget the beauty in a melee. When two blades create sparks, that is the light of the gods watching for their renown."

    Joseph, unimpressed by Arthur''s bravado, challenged his assertion. "You say that only because you inherited your spikes," he accused.

    Arthur''s laughter reverberated through the room. "You mean to call me a coward?" he taunted, his confidence unshakeable in the face of doubt.

    "No, I don''t," Joseph retorted, his words laced with a hint of resentment. "However, you inherited your spikes young. You know of the abilities and great strengths it gives us. You must''ve been a great warrior amongst your people."

    "And to my liege lord," Arthur acknowledged with a nod. "That is where I learned more about our Emperor''s realm. I also gained knowledge of space combat, boarding, and..."

    Isaac chuckled, his amusement evident. "I got that education pretty heavy-handed."

    "The military brat," Axel chimed in, earning a smirk from Isaac.

    "Now do you see?" Ed interjected, his tone grave. "Henryk, we are going on the real difficult missions. We''re going to be eviscerating and rooting out the space insects from their core, fighting and pledging our independence and warcaskets to the individual nobles of the houses. We aid them, we get money. But we are doing the difficult missions... it is not uncommon for those that go for the role of eviscerator to sometimes meet an early demise."

    "What?" Henryk exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

    Arthur added his perspective. "Dying in your warcasket is an honorable thing, but you die nonetheless. To some individuals, this prospect is ill-rewarded. The deeds of warrior honor carrying your name throughout the galaxy seem to not appeal to midworlders."

    "Gee, I wonder why," Vinnie quipped sarcastically.

    "We are going on missions into the darkest corners of the galaxy, Henryk," Arthur reiterated, his tone serious.

    Henryk glanced around at his companions, his expression souring, muscles tightening. This was his only practical option, for his family, for his colony, for the memory of his father. "I can accept any burden," he declared, determination burning in his eyes.

    Ed''s eyes widened at Henryk''s resolve, a flicker of guilt and hope stirring within him. "I''ll vouch for you, Henryk," he affirmed, drawing the attention of the room.

    Axel snorted, his disdain evident. "You''ll vouch for this... this... hick!" he spat.

    Arthur shot Axel a warning look. "What is your issue, pretty knight?" he demanded.

    Vinnie rolled his eyes. "Here we go again," he muttered. "Axel and another one of his tirades."

    "How about you shut your fucking mouth," Axel snapped, his tone curt, silencing the room with its intensity.

    The air hummed with tension, each breath thick with anticipation. Axel''s purple eyes pierced through the charged atmosphere, locking onto Vinnie''s defiant gaze.

    "...And what if I don''t, pretty knight?" Vinnie retorted, his voice steady despite the crackling energy between them.

    Axel''s sneer faltered, his anger redirected toward Ed. "The other squires were midworlders, possessing a hint of class and grace. This hick... what does he know beyond tilling and simple labor? What fool like him could comprehend the essence of piloting a warcasket?"

    "...And also," August interjected, his voice hesitant. He stood apart from the others, the shortest in the room, yet his words carried weight.

    With dark glasses obscuring his eyes and dark hair framing his pale face, August hesitated as he voiced his agreement. "I... I don''t agree with letting Henryk in as well."

    Axel seized upon August''s wavering stance. "Even Fleeboy agrees with me," he declared triumphantly.

    Henryk shot Axel a scathing look, but before he could speak, Fleeboy, visibly trembling, continued the dissent. "He has made powerful enemies within the houses. I''ve heard tales of Logan of Neptune and him being at odds."

    Arthur acknowledged the truth in Fleeboy''s words, prompting Henryk to shoot him a questioning glance. "What, Henryk? We must be fair," Arthur explained. "The other houses, aside from Mars, of course, each have their uses. It''s like an ecosystem. We can''t afford someone who disrupts our balance."

    "Sounds pretty bureaucratic," Isaac scoffed, stepping forward. His gaze fixed on Fleeboy, and with a swift motion, he struck him hard across the head. Fleeboy crumpled to the ground, clutching his injured head.

    "You''re a coward," Isaac spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "All of you are!"

    He turned to face the room, his words cutting through the silence. "Do you not remember Mars? The glory, the honor, the beauty of our planet. We fought for years, with distinction, with glory. How many Sons died on foreign worlds in service to our Emperor? How many of our knights lie on the scattered rims of the red moon? And our planet... dashed away by the Emperor. That, and the houses, they are equally at fault..."

    Axel''s sneer cut through the tension like a razor. "You choose to blame the other houses?" he taunted, his gaze flickering upward with disdain.

    Isaac''s sneer mirrored Axel''s. "We were the Emperor''s loyal dogs, and our master turned against us. They should''ve felt fear and turned against him. We served them for generations, and this is how we were repaid. Stabbed in the back by the Eunuch Emperor!"

    But Isaac''s tirade faltered as Ed''s glare bore into him, a silent warning. Henryk, bewildered and stunned, found himself thrust into a moment of history he hadn''t known existed.

    Then Tyson rose abruptly. "I think Henryk can become a Knight of Mars."

    A hush fell over the room, all eyes turning to Tyson. "You do?" Vinnie questioned, his skepticism palpable.

    Tyson nodded, addressing Ed. "I believe that if Henryk passes his trial, he can endure the crucible and become a Knight of Mars. Perhaps, he can bring honor to the Executor position."

    "The Executor..." The whispered words carried weight, laden with significance.

    "What is that?" Henryk interjected, his curiosity piqued.

    "It''s not merely a tale," Arthur interjected sharply, cutting off Vinnie. "It''s real."

    Vinnie gritted his teeth. "Believe what you will, Arthur. Mars was a world steeped in bloodshed, more than we should ever feel proud of."

    Arthur''s laughter rang out, raw and untamed. "Your history is my history, Vinnie. Never forget that. We''re all the sons of savages. If fate had tilted just a bit differently, we''d have borne our fathers'' spikes into battle, wielded the sharpest swords, and blazed forth with the mightiest guns."

    Vinnie''s sneer deepened. "There''s no honor in being a conqueror or a killer."

    Isaac chuckled, a dark edge to his smile. "But there is honor in being a soldier," he countered, Joseph joining in with a smirk and a clap on Isaac''s back.

    "Amen to that," Joseph chimed in, his voice carrying a weight of agreement.

    Tyson pressed on, his words dripping with conviction. "Henryk embodies the true values of a knight. You all heard of how he saved Sirine at the party. But there''s more. Remember when those Neptune cronies had me pinned down? Beaten and bruised on the floor? Henryk came charging in, fighting tooth and nail to protect me. He''s just a countryman, a hick, but he''s shown more chivalry than any of us. While we stood by, he acted."

    Silence descended like a shroud, guilt hanging heavy in the air. They were the sons of knights, yet when trouble arose, it was Henryk who stepped up to the plate.

    "I''ll cast my vote for Henryk," Tyson declared. "The Executor''s blade, he bears one."

    "Indeed," Ed agreed.

    Isaac''s curiosity piqued. "Where''d you get something like that?"

    "It''s a family heirloom," Henryk replied simply.

    "A knight''s sword," Arthur mused. "That''s a good omen. Who was your father?"

    "I don''t know much about him. He died when I was young, freeing us from a slave vessel."

    A solemn silence enveloped them. Henryk''s truth hung in the air, unyielding. He wouldn''t allow doubt from those lacking in honor. His thoughts turned to Zephyr and the others, to the injustices he''d endured. His heart hardened, forged in the fires of adversity.

    Arthur''s gaze shifted to Henryk. "He''s got my vote. An interesting character indeed. Perhaps songs will be sung of you, Henryk Brown."

    "A druid in the truest sense," Isaac mused. "I''ve never fought alongside a wizard, but as long as you stay clear of my line of fire, we won''t have a problem. Let him prove himself."

    Tyson stood tall. "Me, Ed, Isaac, and Arthur. That''s our vote for the piloting and soldier division. Some of us aren''t pilots, but our bodies are enhanced. We stand apart from the rest. August and Axel said no. Joseph and Vinnie, it''s your turn. What say you?"

    Joseph cast a scrutinizing gaze at Henryk, his expression clouded with uncertainty. Turning to Edward, he emitted a resigned sigh, a silent communication passing between them. "Fine then, let''s give it a shot..." His words carried a weight of hesitation, the haze of indecision evident in his features.

    Vinnie''s nonchalant shrug belied the gravity of his words. "You seem decent enough. We''ll have to whip you into shape, get you on a regimen. You''re at the academy, but you''re also a squire in training... you''ll need to be ready."

    "Get ready to sweat," Isaac interjected, his tone serious. "I went through a grinder after the fall of Mars. We''ll need to sharpen you and the other squires."

    "Squires?" Henryk questioned, a note of confusion in his voice.

    "We''re preserving our heritage," Edward explained solemnly. "Mars may be gone, but its people endure, Henryk."

    "That''s a wrap," Isaac declared, glancing at the fading sun.

    "And just in time," Joseph added, his gaze following the descent of the sun.

    Approaching Henryk, Ed''s demeanor was somber. Henryk noticed the object Jace had used during Jose''s crowning ceremony. Had Ed been wearing it all along? Did he already know the outcome?

    Lifting the gauntlet-clad hand, Ed placed it on Henryk''s shoulder. "I, Edward Wolfsheim of House Mars, of the lineage of ''The Vapor Swords,'' as acting president of House Mars, hereby name Henryk Brown of The Frontier. Let him serve as a squire... and one day, rise to bear Mars''s blessings. On that day, they shall be true brothers."

    In an instant, Henryk''s uniform shimmered and transformed. The drab gray fabric morphed into a sleek gunmetal gray, adorned with golden bands on the cuffs. Though the process was fleeting, Henryk knew he would never forget that moment.

    "Welcome, Henryk," Ed said, clasping Henryk''s hand. "Welcome to House Mars. You''ve earned it."

    For a moment, Henryk felt as though he were soaring among the clouds, unsure if it was reality or a dream. His legs trembled with exhilaration, a surge of triumph coursing through him. He wanted to shout to the heavens, to celebrate his newfound achievement.

    The sound of paint hitting the walls shattered any notion Henryk had of presenting himself decently to his mother. Axel stood there, a grin etched across his face, his helmet casting a shadow over his features as he held out a can of thick crimson paint.

    "Douse it," he commanded, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

    Henryk''s gaze hardened as he heard the muted voices swirling in his mind. "You''ve got to do it," someone urged.

    Another voice chimed in, its tone heavy with resignation. "We were marked, condemned, disgraced. To remain at the academy, we must wear the red of our shame..."

    Amidst the cacophony of voices, Henryk couldn''t shake the echoes of Jose''s accusations and the relentless pounding of the crowd. "Traitors, murderers, outlaws..."

    What had he just become a part of? A brotherhood of steel... or a band of rebels and renegades?

 Chapter 20 - Dreams of Spikes and Knights

    Henryk found himself in the embrace of a dream, a vision of home. The winds whispered tales of familiarity, and the sun hung like a radiant orb in the bright blue sky of his planet, Ares III. Back on familiar ground.

    "Diana... Jennie!" His voice echoed over the small cliff, reaching his sisters engaged in an energetic game of tag below. Laughter and delight filled the air, and Henryk observed with a smirk, securing his hunting rifle with a seasoned grip.

    An old Earth design, primitive perhaps, but not meant for the true beasts of his planet. They returned from a successful hunting trip in the forest, the memory of five rabbits bagged in a single day lingering with satisfaction.

    His mouth watered at the thought of the rabbit stew his mother would whip up. "Diana and Jennie, don''t stray too far!" he called out, one hand raised, perched on the mountain''s edge.

    The towering oaks reached for the sky in the expansive forest below. The walls of his colony city stood on the horizon, bathed in soft lights from the setting sun. Yet, an anomaly caught his attention ¨C the shattered moon of Ares III looming overhead.

    His breath hitched, a realization surfacing that this had to be a dream, a peculiar waking dream. Over the years, he had experienced a few of these, dreams where he could exert some semblance of control. But they were infrequent, strange occurrences, these waking dreams.

    This specific dream held a weight, an unspoken heaviness in the air. As his gaze turned toward the sky, a night sky? Impossible. The large crescent of the shattered white moon adorned the planetary canvas. He would never have taken his sisters out so late. But strangeness permeated the scene.

    A bitter cold sliced through the wind, forcing him to tighten his coat. His teeth chattered as he surveyed the surroundings. The towering pines bowed and swayed against the harsh breeze. He exhaled, visible in the frigid air. Yet, before he left for the academy, it was late summer...

    "A dream," Henryk muttered into the vast expanse before him. It had to be nothing more than a waking dream, a twisted figment of his subconscious. Yet, the urge to wrench himself from its clutches clawed at him, though it held him fast in its grip.

    Then, the piercing sound of his sister''s scream shattered the surreal tranquility. Bianca''s voice, unmistakable and filled with terror, sent a chill down Henryk''s spine, freezing his blood in its veins. Without hesitation, he hurled himself over the edge of the cliff.

    His boots crushed the crumbling earth beneath him as he sprinted, a cloud of ash and dust billowing in his wake. "Bianca!" he roared into the desolate landscape, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. "Jennie!" he called out, desperate for any sign of his other sister.

    But there was only silence, save for the howling wind that whipped through the skeletal trees. The forest around him withered and decayed, consumed by flames that flickered and danced amid the dying foliage. Undeterred, Henryk pressed on, his eyes scanning the scorched earth until they fell upon a trail ¨C the unmistakable tracks of his sisters'' shoes, mingled with another set that sent a shiver down his spine.

    "Wolves..." he growled through gritted teeth, his grip tightening on the rifle slung over his shoulder. With practiced efficiency, he readied the weapon, loading fresh bullets into its chamber as he sprinted forward.

    Then, amidst the chaos, he heard it ¨C Bianca''s voice, distant and fraught with fear. "Henryk!" she cried out, her desperate plea cutting through the roar of the flames.

    "Bianca, where are you?" Henryk bellowed in response, his heart pounding in his ears. And as the words echoed into the abyss, he saw it ¨C perched upon a distant cliff, a creature unlike any he had ever encountered.

    It was no ordinary wolf, but a Peyton ¨C a savage beast native to the harsh terrain of his planet. Standing as tall as a horse, with the formidable frame of a wolf and the delicate features of a deer, it was a grotesque amalgamation of nature''s most fearsome predators. Yet, it was the antlers that crowned its head that filled Henryk with a primal dread, a chilling reminder of the untamed wilderness that lurked beyond the borders of civilization.

    They both halted at the ghastly sight. The Peyton bared its pale teeth, glinting like razor blades under the sickle moon. What struck Henryk more were the antlers, jutting out on either side of its head, reminiscent of the majestic creatures from Earth''s ancient past.

    His mind''s eye echoed with accusations, the shouts of the antlered knight. Why did this dream haunt him? For a fleeting moment, the creature''s features became a distorted blur, whether a trick of the dream or something far more sinister.

    In the distance, Biancia and Jennie clung to each other, paralyzed by fear as the creature shifted its attention from Henryk to them. With a renewed sense of urgency, he sprinted, splashing through a small river in his desperate pursuit.

    Unbeknownst to him, the once-clear water turned brackish and dark, swirling with the remains of rotting fish in the undercurrents. Henryk, however, remained fixated on a singular objective.

    The creature lunged toward his sisters with unnatural speed, but Henryk, propelled by sheer determination, collided with it like a football player on a tackle. The impact sent both of them hurtling in opposite directions, the Peyton crashing into a tree with a pained gasp.

    As Henryk lay on his back, his gun sprawled in front of him, the beast recoiled and thrashed its head in search of its assailant. With a forceful yell driven by a pounding heart and surging adrenaline, Henryk unleashed a powerful tackle.

    Thrown into disarray, the Peyton slammed against the tree, attempting to regain its bearings. The creature moved with bear-like ferocity, its entire body descending upon Henryk, who writhed to avoid being crushed beneath its weight. "Diane!" he screamed, his sister frozen in terror.

    The Peyton clamped its jaws around his wrist, teeth tearing into flesh and muscle. Though the dream was a construct, the pain felt all too real. Henryk''s anguished scream reverberated through the night as he grappled with the agony, reaching for his belt and extracting...

    The hunting knife, its glint catching the moon''s stark illumination. "Diana, grab your sister, and run!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the night air. Diana clutched Jennie and held her close, but they remained frozen.

    "To hell with it!" Henryk roared, the expletive escaping his lips as he brandished the blade, slashing and stabbing. Blood and entrails spilled, a frenzied onslaught as the beast slowly succumbed to the relentless assault.

    He aimed for its side, the knife sinking deep into the creature''s flesh, a spray of black blood coating his torso and neck. A grim smile played on his lips as the beast''s grip weakened, its coughs mingling with the trickle of blood from its lips as it slumped to the ground.

    Breathing heavily, Henryk felt the sting of the cold air on his open wound, blood dripping onto the parched earth like crimson rain. "Diania... Jen..." he gasped, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. "You''re safe." Relief flooded his features, his eyes closing briefly before snapping back to the dying creature. There was still work to be done.

    With a decisive motion, he withdrew his blade from the creature''s stomach and slit its throat, his hand running along its mane as it gasped its final breaths. He knew the carcass would fetch a hefty sum back at the colony, a welcome boon for his struggling family. But as he turned to his sisters, his heart clenched with fear.

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    They were gone, vanished without a trace. Panic seized him as he surveyed the desolate surroundings, the scent of decay and smoke filling his nostrils. "What sorcery is this?" he growled, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with unease.

    Footsteps echoed behind him, and he whirled around, knife at the ready. The dream felt too real, the pain from the Peyton''s wounds still fresh in his mind. Henryk''s unease deepened as a voice, cold and ancient, spoke from the shadows.

    "Hello, young knight."

    The words reverberated in his mind before reaching his ears, and Henryk searched frantically for the source. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice trembling. "My sisters... they..."

    Yet, his words were swallowed by the wind, his breath visible in the chill air. Henryk scanned the surroundings, the rustling leaves, the whisper of the breeze. "A dream''s test, a trial for what lies ahead, Mars''s forsaken child," the voice echoed, dripping with a sinister edge.

    Henryk scoffed, his movements deliberate as he retrieved his rifle. With practiced ease, he cleared the chamber. "You don''t trust me," he muttered, his tone laced with skepticism. "Good. That''ll serve you."

    "Who are you?" Henryk demanded, the silence thickening around him. The wind ceased, the stream''s murmur silenced. Even the salmon froze mid-swim, suspended in time.

    "What sorcery is this?" Henryk''s voice wavered as bones ground against bones, the Peyton rising from its decayed form. Flies buzzed around its festering flesh, but Henryk''s focus was drawn to its antlers, pristine amidst decay.

    The creature shrugged off Henryk''s shot, its neck twisting unnaturally. As fleas and flies erupted in flames at the touch of its antlers, the truth dawned on Henryk. The antlered knight.

    "Good," the Peyton rasped, its voice like gravel. "Good that you strike first. Violence is your key, your blessing."

    Henryk shook his head, temples throbbing with confusion. "You were born from violence, Mars''s bastard," the creature continued, its words unsettling. "But you are special. Rise up, fight till the bitter end."

    With a shudder, Henryk clutched his head, the Peyton''s words echoing in his mind. "You need a teacher," it intoned, its message leaving an ominous weight in the air.

    But his words were drowned by the wind, his breath forming mist in the chilly air. Henryk scanned the surroundings, the rustling leaves, the haunting whistle of the wind. "A test in the dream, a trial for what lies ahead, Mars''s forsaken offspring," the voice echoed, its tone laced with malice.

    Henryk snorted, halting his frantic movements to retrieve his rifle. With a deliberate motion, he cleared the lodged bullet from the chamber. "You don''t trust me," he muttered, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Good. It''ll serve you well."

    "Who are you?" Henryk demanded, the silence hanging thick in the air. The wind ceased, the stream''s gentle flow silenced. Even the salmon froze mid-swim, suspended in time.

    "What sorcery is this?" Henryk''s voice wavered as bones grated against bones, the Peyton rising from its decaying form. Fleas crawled from its rotting skull, and more flies buzzed around its putrid corpse. Henryk took a step back, eyes widening in horror, and he pulled the bolt of his rifle back and fired. But the creature remained unfazed, the bullet passing through its neck with no effect, leaving Henryk staring down the smoking barrel.

    The Peyton merely shook its head, its neck grinding with loose bones. Its antlers, still a pristine bone white amidst decay, caught Henryk''s attention. As flies and fleas burst into flames upon touching them, Henryk realized where he had seen such antlers before. The antlered knight.

    "Good," the Peyton rasped, its voice like gravel. "Good that you shoot first. In this confusing and dangerous time, for the battles ahead that will shape your destiny. Violence is your key, your blessing."

    Henryk shook his head, his thoughts throbbing as he grasped his head in his hands. The creature continued. "Born from violence, forsaken son of Mars, but I see your potential. Magic is new and unknown, but you may be one of the greats. Rise up against your peers, fight till the bitter end, and beyond!"

    The words twisted from chilling to invigorating, and Henryk lifted his bright blue eyes to meet the hollow sockets of the Peyton''s skull, now the domain of spiders and flies.

    "Remind those core world dogs the power of Mars!" the Peyton declared, circling Henryk. But fear had melted away, replaced by a grim understanding. Henryk examined his bloodied wrist, the realization dawning that this was a test, a dark test of strength. He gritted his teeth and met the creature''s gaze.

    "What do you want of me?" Henryk snapped, his sneer a challenge. "I''ve been tutored by traveling witches and wizards, novices though they may be. They taught me enough to understand the dangers of dreaming... you invaded my mind."

    The Peyton snickered. "Good, you''re educated. Proud we didn''t need to awaken your magical potential. You have the power of a cat, but even cats descend from great lions. One day, you''ll tap into your full potential."

    "What?" Henryk retorted, his frustration boiling over. "Leave me alone!" he screamed, feeling the surge of magic within.

    But the Peyton only clicked its bony lips, a dry laugh escaping. "No, I cannot, young son of Mars. I see honor and loyalty etched within you," it continued, and Henryk''s expression darkened. "Ah, the shame," the Peyton mused. "Even though you''ve known them briefly, the debt you owe them is great. How will you repay Ed''s generosity? By rewarding them with treachery!"

    Henryk recoiled. "Quiet, beast!" he snapped. "The Martians betrayed the emperor and the royal family. They bear the brand of censure and..."

    The Peyton interrupted with laughter. "Traitors willing to accept a backwater hick into their house? Traitors whose ancestors defended humanity for generations, only to see their homeworld incinerated. Men, women, children... all burned that day."

    Henryk fell silent, his thoughts churning. The Peyton continued, "You, Henryk, I see you... the dark and the light within your soul, the choices that will define you. But when the time comes, when you must kneel before your gods... what will you say?"

    Henryk stood frozen, unsure how to react to the surreal words echoing in his mind.

    "Blood is power, Edward knows this better than anyone," the voice intoned. "You, Henryk Brown, are the son of a slave, but blood is power. You must choose between violence and peace, between becoming the slaver or the abolitionist. A choice made by your father''s ancestors, a path that will define you and the galaxy."

    "What are you saying?" Henryk snapped, his frustration palpable.

    "Blood is power, Henryk," growled the beast. "Never forget. I see your future, your battles, a million and three sons for Henryk, a burning galaxy on the edge of a dark future. You may be our last hope, our dying light, our last flame."

    Henryk''s mind raced, the weight of the implications settling heavily upon him. "No," he muttered, staring at his wound in horror. "You... you bloodmage, you damned dog!"

    The Peyton chuckled, but then the dream began to normalize. Henryk heard the wind whistle through the trees, saw the ground start to repair itself. Yet, the Peyton remained.

    "Oh no," it spoke.

    "What?" Henryk retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. "You''re losing control. Illusions fade, you''re not invincible..."

    "Silence, Henryk!" The Peyton snapped, and Henryk realized the world around him was restored, but the creature remained fixed in place, its withered form staring at him with anger and fear.

    "Another has come," it warned.

    "What?" Henryk stammered, overwhelmed by the unfolding events. He was lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with no clear path forward.

    "Enough, Henryk," The Peyton snapped, its voice cutting through the air with chilling calmness. "Listen, boy... a dreamer has invaded. We do not have much time." Its gaze fixated on Henryk''s bleeding wrist, urgency etched in its hollow sockets.

    "We do not have time, and whatever has come must not touch upon your blood. Later, we shall meet again, but now is not the time," The Peyton turned its head, and Henryk followed its gaze, spotting a figure.

    A girl, near his age, stood before him. Her oversized yellow robe seemed out of place, its sickly hue reminding him of urine. Light brown curls framed her face, freckles adorning her cheeks, but it was her moss-green eyes that held his attention.

    "Henryk!" The Peyton''s voice trembled with fear. "A witch from Jupiter!" it snarled.

    The girl stared, equally bewildered by her surroundings. Henryk wondered if she realized they were in the past. The Peyton whirled its head back to Henryk.

    "Henryk, we shall meet again, but you must never forget... bastard son of Mars, the blood of abolitionists flows through you. To free the galaxy from the tyranny of the Enuch Emperor, you must be ready for blood on your hands. Violence is a gift, rage is a gift, martial prowess is a gift... honor them with violence. For within this universe, violence is absolute, and violence is truth..."

    With a powerful stomp, the Peyton shook the ground, throwing Henryk backward. His eyes widened at the display of strength, questioning the creature''s nature. What was it? Or perhaps the better question was, who was it?

    For a moment, Henryk noticed something along the Peyton''s spine¡ªfive strange protrusions, sharp and angled, unlike anything he''d seen before. As the world around him contorted, stars fell from the sky, shattering and exploding.

    Bright explosions of black and red engulfed them, fire licking at the edges of Henryk''s vision as the ground crumbled beneath him. He plummeted into the void, a silent scream echoing in his mind, his hands grasping at empty air as the light faded. Through the darkness, the Peyton''s gaze remained fixed on him.

    "Never forget my words, Henryk," the Peyton''s voice resonated in the abyss. "Till we meet again, violence is your strength. It is your truth, and that is why they have taken you. Show the galaxy what some mutated hick is made of. Never fear your strength, never shun it. Men like you have been defined by violence for thousands of years. Revenge shall be your armor, let hate be your shield... and let violence be your sword."

    The words reverberated in Henryk''s mind, haunting him as he thrashed within the darkness, his scream swallowed by the void. The Peyton''s final decree echoed relentlessly:

    "Violence shall grant you strength."

 Chapter 21 - The Witches of Jupitar

    The dream dissipated for Henryk, but not for the young witch.

    The Peyton''s snicker greeted her. "¡­and who might you be, little witch?" the beast inquired, its voice a sickening mixture of mockery and malice.

    Turning toward the sound, the young witch faced a grotesque creature, its decaying form twisted into a grin adorned with too many human teeth. As its skull inclined toward her, she sensed the weight of unseen eyes upon her, an unnerving presence she couldn''t quite grasp.

    Amidst the river''s crimson and black currents, as the once-abundant fish chose death on the shore over the tainted waters, she demanded answers. "What is this?" she demanded, her voice echoing with a boldness that belied her youth. With each step she took, the Peyton''s smirk followed, a macabre dance of decay and defiance.

    "What are you trying to do?" she pressed, seizing the silence as an opportunity. "You invaded Henryk''s dream and showed him a perversion of his home world."

    For a moment, there was nothing but the distant cacophony of destruction. She scanned the desolation, realizing Henryk was nowhere to be found. The dream should be unraveling soon, yet...

    "The pot calling the kettle black," the Peyton retorted. "You invaded his dream as well. I mean no harm to the boy, unlike you Witches from Jupitar."

    Her resolve hardened. "Yet, I know who you are," he countered. The little witch met the creature''s gaze head-on. "The yellow of your robes marks you as a light mage, correct?" The Peyton''s smirk widened at her recognition.

    "You know of our¡­" she began.

    "Yes, I know how you witches categorize yourselves. Blue for water, Green for Earth, but yellow¡­not good enough for orange?" the Peyton interjected, relishing in the subtle jab.

    She felt his presence now, a sensation akin to encountering the most powerful mages she had known. He exuded age, his voice gravelly with years of hate. And it was that hate she felt, searing beams of animosity aimed directly at her.

    "No pity," he muttered, his words barely audible. "My apologies, little witch, but stay clear of Henryk. You shouldn''t even care. From what I recall, you witches prefer empty laps instead of staffs."

    The girl sneered, her disdain evident. Retrieving a steel cylinder from behind her, she transformed it into a staff with a click of a button. A faint jewel atop the staff emitted a subtle yellow glow as she gripped it tightly.

    "Our business with Henryk is none of your concern," she retorted, her voice dripping with defiance. "But I''d warn you about the bloodlust you''re feeding. Like you said, I may come from the weakest order, but I am a mage nonetheless. This isn''t your dream, your power wanes here, this isn''t your domain."

    The Peyton chuckled at her bravado, his eye sockets now alight with blazing light, each containing a different pair of eyes¡ªone cyan, the other a deep red.

    "It isn''t yours either, little witch," he countered.

    Before she could react, a powerful blast surged toward her with startling speed.

    "W-what!" she stammered, wide-eyed and caught off guard.

    Frantically, she attempted to cast a spell with her staff, but it was already too late. "H-how could you cast a spell like that in someone else''s dream?"

    With the feeling of impending doom looming over her, she awoke. But instead of finding herself in the rugged comfort of a familiar bed, she was submerged in water.

    Gone were the witches and their assessments. Instead, she found herself surrounded by women in robes of varying colors, manning machines and surrounded by a massive metal tank at the center of the room.

    As she stirred within the expanse, the unsettling reality of her situation began to sink in.

    Naked and submerged in deep, brackish waters, she floated, her only lifeline a rebreather within reach. Her long hair cascaded around her like tendrils in the abyss, her eyes closed in a deceptive peace, until chaos shattered the tranquility.

    With a resounding thud, she slammed against the tank''s interior, jolting everyone present to attention. The rhythmic tapping of keyboards ceased as all eyes fixated on the source of the disturbance. The little witch was thrashing, her screams muffled by the water flooding her lungs, her desperate struggle to reach the hatch evident to all.

    "Get it open!" a woman in a green robe screamed, urgency lacing her voice.

    Two young women dashed to opposite sides of the tank, climbing the ladder and attempting to turn the massive wheel of the hatch. But their efforts were in vain.

    "It''s not working, it''s jammed!" one of them cried out in frustration, panic mounting in the room.

    Amidst the chaos, one figure remained composed¡ªthe senior witch, twenty-five years of age, with dark hair and sun-kissed skin. Draped in a heavy deep blue cowl, she stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the thrashing girl. Taking her place in front of the glass, she clasped her hands together and began to mutter incantations, her words weaving through the air like an eerie melody.

    As she chanted, the temperature in the room plummeted, a frost forming on the glass, and the air grew colder with each passing moment. Raising her hands, she conjured a bullet of ice, its surface jagged and spiked, tinged with faint black edges.

    "Now, everyone, move!" the senior witch commanded, urgency in her tone.

    With a sense of urgency, those present scrambled to safeguard vital equipment, shutting down computers and laptops. With a swift motion, the older witch released the ice bullet, watching as it struck the tank with force. For a tense moment, it seemed as though the spell might not hold, but then the glass began to crack, splintering and collapsing in a deluge of glass and water.

    Amidst the chaos, the little witch was swept out with the tide, coughing and sputtering as she collapsed onto the floor. Others rushed to her aid, their voices filled with concern.

    "Brilya," one of them said, her tone laced with relief.

    "What happened¡­ did she¡­" Someone attempted to rouse around her.

    "No," someone bluntly defended. "Did you see that? How the heck could she have flung herself into the¡­"

    "Enough, enough, give her room to breathe!" yelled out the senior witch. She pushed and shuffled everyone away, her gaze fixed on the shivering, coughing form of Brilya. And only one word escaped her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks.

    "Bri."

    It took fifteen to twenty minutes for them to gather everything they needed to leave. Bri was wrapped in towels, still shivering. Her hair was tangled, and she winced at the pain in her lower right back, as if she had been thrashed upon¡­

    Her eyes widened with sudden recollection, her breath growing heavy.

    "Brilya," spoke the same voice, drawing Bri''s gaze back up.

    "H-hey, Senior Witch Esava," Bri replied, her eyes drifting to the remnants of the room.

    Water pooled in the corners, the glass of the tank shattered, leaving behind a dripping, massive pod. It would be a mess to clean up, and it was all her fault.

    Esava groaned and rolled her eyes. "Relax, the others are gone, and we don¡¯t need to keep up appearances right now. How are you doing, seriously Bri? You had us all scared."

    Bri stared at her as she spoke, but¡­

    "What happened?" Esava inquired.

    Bri lowered her head. "I¡­I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t know what to make of it. For a moment I was fine, and then, and then¡­"

    Esava ran her fingers through Bri''s hair, observing her closely. The girl''s eyes were wide, the redness evident, and her back, though covered in towels, bore a bruise.

    "Take your time," Esava said calmly, extending her hand. "Was this Henryk? Did he do something to you¡­ I''ve heard that he was skilled in the magical arts, man or not. Is he¡­"

    But Bri shook her head. "He didn¡¯t have any protection spells and didn¡¯t have anything to properly protect his mind. Yet, he did have a protector."

    Esava stared at her, then sighed. "Did you learn anything useful?" she asked.

    Bri grimaced as she tried to untangle her locks. She had nearly drowned because of this dream. And when she put it into words, she didn¡¯t have a damn thing to show for it.

    Bri shook her head after a moment. "No," she replied softly.

    Esava sighed. "Fine," she said. "The mission was a bust, but don¡¯t worry¡­ we¡¯ve got more plans in store."

    "More plans?" Bri repeated, sneering. "I messed up, failed the mission, and nearly died in the process¡­ and you''re telling me not to worry."

    Esava sighed. "You''re too hard on yourself, Bri. This isn¡¯t the army. Report to me what happened in full tomorrow, but get some rest and something to eat. Today you¡­" But Esava paused at the word.

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    "I nearly died today," Bri remarked, a loathing pain evident in her voice.

    "Y-yes," Esava found herself stuttering, the shock of it all evident. Bri, too, seemed stunned.

    Esava sighed, her curt tone returning. "Go and rest, Brilya. There are more things coming in the future, no use worrying about it now," she said. "Is Himari and Bellanne here tonight? I don¡¯t want you to be alone."

    Bri rose from her seat, her legs unsteady but beneath her nonetheless. "Himari and Bell are here tonight. Heck, we were supposed to get food tonight," she said, attempting a smile. But her voice choked, her mind¡­

    For a brief moment, she remembered the strange beast. Her blood ran cold at the memory, and she was certain she would never forget. "Little Witch," the monster had called her. What kind of monster was he? And she watched as Esava said her goodbyes and left the room, leaving Bri to pack up and head back.

    And she did, but for a brief moment, she paused. Her blood ran cold as she felt the eyes of the Peyton still upon her, that laughter, that smile. She whipped her head around with widened eyes, breathing heavily, her hands clenched in fists shaking. She¡­ she¡­

    She exhaled sharply as she realized there was only darkness. She scolded her fear and turned away, hoping the laughter echoing in her head and ears would soon fade. But it didn¡¯t, it only echoed.

    The Witch¡¯s of Jupitar dwelled in one of the campus''s smallest residential areas, a selective series of apartment complexes reserved exclusively for witch business. The buildings were of a dark, inky stone, absorbing light as if it were nothing.

    Briya found her apartment door and entered. The lights were off, a breath of relief escaping her lips. She was still drying her hair, dressed once more in her robe, when she made her way to the kitchen.

    ¡°Hello, Briya,¡± Himari greeted, her voice cutting through the once quiet and dark space. She sat at the wooden table pressed against the window. Himari, of East-Asian descent, was taller than most, her raven hair flowing down her back in a ponytail. Out of her robes, she wore shorts and a t-shirt, her smirk both alluring and dangerous.

    Bellanne flicked on the light. Like Himari, she was also out of her uniform, exhaustion evident in her red-tinted eyes and the faint smell of burnt wood clinging to her. Slim-waisted, with glasses perched on her nose and dull blue eyes, she stood at Bri¡¯s height.

    ¡°Where have you been for these many hours?¡± Himari inquired.

    Maybe on a better day, Bri would have played along. But after the night she had¡­

    She sneered and headed into the kitchen. ¡°Really, Bri?¡± Himari feigned hurt. ¡°No ''Hi'' or phone call to let us know where you were¡­ or that you weren¡¯t going to make it for dinner?¡±

    Bell rolled her eyes. ¡°Himari, leave her alone. She¡¯s obviously not in the mood,¡± she interjected, turning to Bri.

    Himari snickered, but they all fell silent as they beheld Bri''s tear-streaked face.

    ¡°Bri,¡± Bell was the first to reach out, touching her shoulder. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    Bri shook her head, tears streaming down her face at the exchange. ¡°Bri, what happened?¡± Himari inquired.

    Belle shot a look towards her. ¡°I told you this was a bad idea. You know Bri always has a good reason for being late,¡± she said pointedly.

    Himari rolled her eyes. ¡°You always tell me to leave her alone¡­ and Bri really doesn¡¯t mind the teasing. Come on, Bri, you can tell us anything.¡±

    Bri made her way to the table and sat down, the others pulling chairs to be by her side.

    ¡°Bri, do you want us to get you food?¡± Bell asked, a glimmer of concern in her eyes, prompting a weak smile and a chuckle from Bri.

    ¡°Ah, feeling a bit better,¡± remarked Himari.

    Bri wiped away the tears. ¡°I¡­ I can do with some food, I think. I haven¡¯t eaten all day,¡± she admitted.

    Bell went into the fridge, rummaging through its contents. ¡°Listen, we don¡¯t have much, so we ordered, and we didn¡¯t know what you want, and¡­¡±

    ¡°Bell made an executive decision,¡± Himari interjected.

    ¡°Again,¡± Bri replied, another chuckle breaking through her tears. ¡°You¡¯ve got to stop letting her have the final say. Did you get¡­¡±

    ¡°Chinese food is very affordable, and the place in Academy City runs for twenty-four hours,¡± Bell cut in. ¡°You were gone for the day, so we were just waiting to pull the trigger.¡±

    Bri shook her head. ¡°No, honestly¡­ I don¡¯t want to eat,¡± she sighed. ¡°Listen, just sit down. I¡¯ll tell you where I was.¡±

    Then, she gathered them around and recounted the events of her day, focusing on the incident in Henryk¡¯s dream.

    ¡°He flung you!¡± Himari exclaimed, rising from her seat, her hands planted firmly on the table. ¡°How could he be so strong?¡±

    Bell''s eyes remained fixed on the table throughout, but now she raised them to meet theirs. ¡°It could¡¯ve been a familiar or a spirit, or something else. There''s a lot of magic that we don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°There''s a lot of magic that the core worlders don¡¯t know,¡± Himari affirmed, ignoring the disapproving glance from Anne.

    Bri shook her head with a groan. ¡°Himeria, Bell, it wasn¡¯t no familiar or spirit. He had to be a human.¡±

    ¡°He?¡± repeated Bell. ¡°It was a man?¡±

    Himeria chuckled at that. ¡°A man? How could you lose to a male wizard of all¡­¡±

    However, Bri¡¯s glare cut her short. Himeria only sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. ¡°All I am just trying to say is that it¡¯s a bit¡­strange. You know that men can¡¯t connect to magic like how we can.¡±

    And she cocked her head towards Bell. Bell hesitated for a brief moment, then slowly nodded her head.

    ¡°Himeria is right,¡± Bell agreed. ¡°A novice male wizard will lose to a weak female mage. It¡¯s genetics and biology, it should¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, it didn¡¯t,¡± Bri replied sternly. ¡°He had taken the form of this strange beast, but it was nothing like I¡¯ve ever experienced. He was old, I could feel it. And it was his hate aimed at me... I could feel it, that sort of hate was raw and unfiltered. It was archaic, it was bloodthirsty, and as a junior light mage¡­ I was defeated. The dreamer has more strength within his dream, but this man even after Henryk was gone¡­ he was able to keep the strength of the dream, and he¡­¡±

    Bell sighed. ¡°I just don¡¯t understand that part, but your bruise shows the truth of it¡­¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡± Himeria asked.

    Bell continued, annoyed. ¡°It shows that she isn¡¯t lying or imagining it. Himeria, come on. There are very powerful male wizards out there.¡±

    ¡°But what do they want with Henryk?¡± Bri asked sternly. ¡°He might¡¯ve beat Piper, but by that means doesn¡¯t say anything about his aptitude.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Himari¡¯s voice trailed off. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you know that? Didn¡¯t the senior witch herself ask you for this?¡± she queried.

    Bri nodded slowly. ¡°She just tells me what to do and I follow her orders. It was a bit difficult to get in and his mental strength is stronger than I expected, but there is always a way in. But I don¡¯t ever want to go back there.¡±

    ¡°So, this thing was talking to him?¡± Bell asked. ¡°What was it about?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall. I came at the end of their conversation,¡± Bri replied.

    Bri sighed and leveled her eyes at the table. ¡°I can¡¯t believe tomorrow is the first day of classes, and this is what I¡¯ve got to deal with.¡±

    ¡°Just skip,¡± remarked Himari.

    Belle rolled her eyes at that. ¡°If you are really not feeling good, by all means, you should just stay. I know, I know, but you¡¯ve got to be careful¡­ especially in regards to your health. Just email them.¡±

    Bri paused and glared at Belle. ¡°How am I meant to email my professors that I hijacked into some boy¡¯s dream, that I was violently expelled from it with such force that my real body dented the side of a metal container, and thirdly¡­¡±

    ¡°Okay, enough is enough,¡± regarded Belle urgently. ¡°Classes start tomorrow, but I¡¯ve got nothing for tomorrow. Do you need anything else, because I am quite exhausted. We can continue talking about this in the morning though.¡±

    Bri sighed. ¡°I¡¯m fine Belle. Go get your rest.¡±

    Belle hesitated before she left, but as she was about to open her door she paused and glanced at the pair of them. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more about this tomorrow.¡± And with that, she closed her door.

    Himari rose with a smirk gracing her lips. ¡°You want some pop or some¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve still got beer,¡± Bri remarked.

    And Himari nodded with a smile. ¡°You mind if I partake?¡± She replied, testing the waters. For the first time since this encounter, Bri could actually truly smile.

    ¡°Sure,¡± Bri said.

    Himari went to the kitchen, parting through the contents as she made her way towards aluminum cans bound together by plastic, chilled to the touch. The golden bands highlighted the alcohol.

    Himari handed Bri a can, and Bri went to work undoing her robe as she took the beer in her hand.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got any cigs?¡± Bri asked.

    ¡°God, you''re gross,¡± replied Himari. ¡°I¡¯ve got an¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got that nicotine pen you keep talking about?¡±

    Himari chuckled with a smirk. ¡°I picked it from some midworlder boy at the party, they¡¯ve got these in every store I¡¯ve heard. It really is just miraculous what a pretty girl could get with the right type of smile. He practically was drooling over me, Bri.¡±

    Himari dug into her pants and tossed her a pen-shaped item. Bri took a rip as smoke filled her lungs and she expelled it. She then took a sip of her beer.

    Himari chuckled at the action.

    Bri raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯ve been laughing a lot,¡± she observed.

    ¡°Am I not allowed to laugh?¡± Himari countered.

    Bri shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s that you laugh a lot when you¡¯ve got something on your mind. I know you, Himari.¡±

    Himari paused, and then that dashing seductive smirk danced along her features. ¡°Maybe I do¡­¡± she teased.

    She pushed the chair closer to Bri as Bri¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What did you do?¡± Bri asked.

    Himari chuckled, leaning close to Bri¡¯s ear as she spoke. ¡°That boy from House Venus, the new president. I slept with him a couple of nights ago.¡±

    Bri¡¯s eyes widened, and she turned away in shock. ¡°Are you insane?¡± she exclaimed. ¡°We''re the witches of Jupitar¡­ he¡¯s not even of magical proficiency, and you were going to allow him to taint your¡­¡±

    Himari rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you believe in all that celibacy crap,¡± she retorted. ¡°Sure, we may be witches and take our vows. But some vows are more serious than the others, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    And a passing glance settled upon Bri. ¡°Yeah,¡± she muttered, and the action was not lost.

    Himari leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and scratching the back of her head. ¡°Look at Belleanne, a good fucking would loosen her up real¡­¡±

    Bri''s eyes widened at the words.

    ¡°Come on, can¡¯t we just play,¡± replied Himari. ¡°No matter. If it really bothers you¡­ then you can take solace that I was more so, ordered.¡±

    Bri¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Ordered,¡± she bluntly repeated. The ramification of the word and action caused her to feel a sickening churning within her stomach. ¡°Are you telling me that one of the senior witches forced you to¡­¡±

    And Himari raised her hand to silence the conversation.

    ¡°Esava herself came to me and asked what I would be willing to do for the order and the cause. So, I told her anything¡­ and she really pushed me out of my box for my first mission. But like I said, he wasn¡¯t that bad. Smaller than I expected, but still not bad,¡± Himari explained.

    Bri¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Why did Esava ask you for this?¡±

    Himari leaned closer. ¡°You know how strong Jace¡¯s family is. If we can control that, we can gain an iron grip on the inner workings of House Venus. If we can root their power by the source¡­ they may lead, but we¡¯ll be the true ones in control.¡±

    ¡°How are you going to get him in control?¡± Bri inquired. ¡°I was at the party a while back. And from what I can recall, Jace was rude and too pompous to know what was good for him. Henryk¡­ that boy from the dream saved Sirine from his very hands. How can you control someone who isn¡¯t even afraid of the corporations or the social hierarchy?¡±

    Himari chuckled loudly. ¡°Water, blood, or seed¡­¡± She paused for effect. ¡°Once you get one of the three, you can have glaring control over a man.¡±

    ¡°In that order?¡± Bri questioned.

    Himari shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve heard horror tales of people utilizing all three, but you only go for one. Water means sweat and any other water that your body produces. It¡¯s the lowest amount of control, but there is still a degree of it. The blood is more self-explanatory; it gives you a medium amount of control, but it¡¯s sloppy¡­ I know that Venus witches may be trained to see the mental signs this caused. Thirdly, the seed¡­ but I do not have to explain that to you.¡±

    Bri¡¯s eyes widened at the information.

    Himari chuckled to herself, and Bri realized that she was already onto her third beer. This was going to be an interesting night. ¡°Control, memories, dreams¡­ heck, I¡¯ve heard that blood can be utilized in prophecy readings. And once you read them¡­ they¡¯re set in stone and immovable.¡±

    ¡°Yet, why does Esava care about Henryk and why did she have you do this?¡± Bri pressed, but Himari had already started to rise from her chair.

    Himari shrugged at the question. ¡°It isn¡¯t really our job to ask questions, Bri. The senior witches know better; we can¡¯t always know the truth of their wisdom in these darkest times.¡±

    Himari turned to wave, leaving Bri alone within the darkness of the room. The echoing of that strange monster had mercifully faded from her ears. Now, peace settled upon the rising sun along the horizon. But darkness always does return.

    Bri whirled her head to the side; she thought she saw something. However, it was just her imagination. Sweating, reeling, and tired, she fought her way back onto her feet and decided to head to bed. The room seemed to close in on her as she moved, shadows playing tricks on her weary mind.

 Chapter 22 - The Executors and Eviscerators of Mars

    "Last day at the hospital," Margaret cheered, her voice ringing out in the sterile air like a bell tolling in the dead of night.

    Lucas, ever the prankster, punctuated her words with a blast from the party horn, its raucous sound reverberating off the cold walls of the hospital room, filling the space with a discordant melody.

    Margaret winced, her hands instinctively flying to her ears to shield them from the assault. "Oh my God, Lucas, you''re so infuriating!" she exclaimed, her frustration palpable.

    Lucas met her glare with a sneer, his eyes alight with mischief. "If it were Marcus," he taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm, "you''d be giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl."

    A flush crept up Margaret''s cheeks, but she refused to back down. "When is he coming back?" she demanded, her voice tinged with concern.

    With a careless shrug, Lucas replied, "One to two days, maybe. He''s got other priorities, you know."

    Margaret''s brow furrowed in disbelief. "He''s skipping classes for this?" she questioned, her disbelief evident.

    Once again, Lucas shrugged, his indifference bordering on arrogance. "We''re essential," he stated matter-of-factly. "Top-dollar missions, the works. I even heard the Mockingbird''s involved."

    A heavy sigh escaped Margaret''s lips, her worry deepening. "He''s..." she began, her voice trailing off into uncertainty.

    "He''s off on another one of Zephyr''s gigs," Lucas interjected, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Transporting some new Warcasket model. Big stuff."

    Margaret''s eyes widened in awe. "Wow," she murmured, momentarily captivated by the promise of adventure.

    "Sounds like we''re in for a payday," Lucas declared, a hint of triumph in his voice, his words punctuated by a mischievous grin.

    Meanwhile, Piper, ever the silent observer, stood by the sink, her lone eye fixed on the scene unfolding before her. Though her words were few, her presence spoke volumes.

    "And who''s he traveling with?" Margaret inquired, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

    "Todd and Jeremiah," Lucas replied, noting the doubt in Margaret''s eyes. "He''ll be fine, Margaret. Trust me."

    Margaret sighed, her anxiety palpable. "I''d feel better if you were there," she admitted, her vulnerability shining through.

    Lucas chuckled softly. "Don''t underestimate Todd and Jeremiah," he reassured her. "They''re the best of the best. And Marcus will come back with a fat paycheck. Who knows, maybe he''ll even spoil you a bit."

    Margaret fell silent, her thoughts consumed by worry and longing. Adjusting her hair, she cast her gaze forward, a blush staining her cheeks crimson.

    Her breath reverberated within her ears as she scrutinized her reflection. Fortunately, there wasn''t any disfiguring damage. Faint scars, remnants of the glass that had pierced her socket, lingered, but they were minuscule, visible only to her.

    Taking a deep breath, she opened her eye, peering into the darkness of the socket. A faint steel orb nestled within the back of her eye socket met her gaze. Sighing, she retrieved an item from a black box.

    With practiced precision, she relaxed, widening her eye socket, and slid the new eye in. A subtle click echoed, and Piper''s vision flickered momentarily¡ªcolors danced in a chaotic display before settling into a neutral canvas, aligning with her left eye.

    Now staring at herself, her hands once again framing her eye, but with a new one, Piper observed the transformation. This eye would never shed tears, yet it bore a blend of grey and green hues.

    Piper huffed and sighed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she dismissed with a wave. "Come on, let''s get out of here. I''m not thrilled about classes or the judgmental glances," she added.

    Lucas sighed, making his way towards Piper''s packed bags. His gaze lingered on a note. "You got the hospital note," he remarked.

    Piper''s eyes flared a bright crimson. "How did you like it?" she inquired.

    Sighing, her features still veiled in crimson, Piper wrapped her arms around herself. "It was okay, I guess... you all shouldn''t worry."

    "But we were," Margaret retorted sternly. "How are you doing?"

    Piper paused. "Decent, for someone who lost her eye," she replied.

    Lucas winced, exchanging a glance with Margaret.

    Margaret shook her head. "Are you sure you''re ready, Piper?" she asked.

    Piper''s expression shifted quickly to annoyance. "Christ, Marge," she snapped. "I said I''m fine, I''m fine."

    Lucas whistled under his breath. Piper made her way to them, donning a hoodie, slinging a bag over her shoulder, and carrying another.

    "My eye," she paused.

    A heavy silence settled among them. "What do the others say about me?" she questioned.

    "Are you speaking of Mercury and..." Lucas trailed off, his words hanging in the air like mist on a moonlit night.

    Piper eased back, her demeanor shifting. "I know what my house expects, but I was a top contender, and I lost to a..."

    "A hick," Lucas interjected slowly, earning a sharp glance from Margaret. "I was just saying," he added, his frustration evident as he struggled to find the right words.

    Taking a moment to compose himself, Lucas continued, "Listen, Piper, you can''t dwell on this. Who cares what the other houses think..."

    Piper''s gaze drifted to the window, her thoughts wandering. She occupied a lofty room in the prestigious academy hospital, seventy-five floors high. Beyond its facade as a mere hospital lay whispers of darker truths¡ªdungeons, taboo experiments, even rumors of human sacrifice and more sinister practices. But those were merely echoes of the past.

    "It matters to me and it matters to the house," Piper interjected curtly, turning to face them, revealing her mismatched eyes.

    "Is that calibrated correctly, Piper?" Margaret inquired, concern etched in her features. "It should have an adjustment for..."

    Piper sneered, cutting her off. "We''re not Neptune or Venus," she retorted sharply. "Zephyr might not have had the resources for top-notch equipment, but at least he procured a bionic from the black market that doesn''t leave me seeing in grayscale. Let''s focus on calibrating this and integrating it into my Warcasket," she concluded.

    Margaret''s eyes widened in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

    Lucas caught on quickly. "Yeah... Piper, are you seriously considering returning to your Warcasket after this?" he pressed, his tone laced with concern.

    Piper fixed them with a steely gaze, her earlier composure evaporating. "Yes," she stated flatly. "I fully intend to pilot soon... and secure a victory."

    Margaret stared at her, a mixture of disbelief and worry clouding her expression. "So, you won''t seek therapy or discuss your injury, but you''ll willingly climb back into that death machine?"

    Piper remained silent, her resolve unyielding. "What have the other houses been saying about me?" she demanded, taking a step forward, her eyes ablaze with determination.

    "It doesn''t matter," Lucas asserted firmly. "You didn''t know that Henryk was..."

    "First off, enough with how it doesn''t matter. So, you''re telling me that my eye doesn''t matter? I lost it in that duel, and I don''t even get to hear what people have been saying about me?" Piper''s voice sliced through the tension, her words heavy with frustration and hurt.

    Lucas remained silent, his gaze shifting uncomfortably. Piper pressed on, her tone tinged with bitterness. "Would you rather keep me locked up, like the headmaster''s daughter in her little tower?" A sardonic smile flitted across her lips. "No," she drawled, elongating the word for emphasis.

    It was Margaret who spoke next, her voice firm and steady. "Everyone is just in shock," she asserted, her words carrying a hint of reassurance.

    Piper snorted derisively. "Did Logan have anything to say?" she demanded, cutting off Lucas''s attempt to interject.

    Margaret hesitated for a moment before responding. "He did issue a comment," she admitted, clearing her throat delicately. "A woman has no place in a Warcasket. They defile the field of battle. Maybe she''d have an eye if she crawled out of her cockpit... and into a kitchen."

    Piper stared at her blankly, her expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, she turned to face them, her glare piercing. "That bastard is going to pay," she declared, her voice laced with venom.

    She made to storm past them, but Margaret''s stern voice halted her in her tracks. "With what Warcasket?" she challenged, her tone unwavering.

    Piper shot her a withering glare but remained silent, her anger simmering beneath the surface.

    "Marge..." Lucas began, but Margaret cut him off sharply.

    "No, she needs to hear this," Margaret insisted. "Piper, what are you doing?"

    Piper met her gaze, her expression hollow. She uttered no response, her silence speaking volumes.

    Margaret pressed on, her voice tinged with sadness. "I stood by your side after your losses to Logan. We''ve been through so much together, and I love you like a sister... but I can''t watch this anymore!" she exclaimed, her frustration boiling over.

    Piper''s initial rage and annoyance ebbed away, replaced by a sense of melancholy and disappointment. Her eyes fell downward, her resolve wavering under Margaret''s heartfelt plea.

    "You''ve lost to the other aces... Atticus was just the latest, and Logan''s defeat was humiliating. No one blamed you for losing, and Zephyr took the brunt of it. But now, you''re losing more than just battles... I don''t know what''s changed, but if you can''t handle it anymore, you need to walk away," Margaret urged, her voice heavy with concern.

    Piper shot a glare at Margaret. "You think I''m just going to drop out!" she snapped, her voice a crackling mixture of defiance and frustration. "Are you insane, after everything that''s happened and..."

    "Then step down as the ace and shift to one of our regular pilot roles," Margaret proposed, turning to include Lucas in her suggestion. "Lucas can step up and take over."

    Lucas shot her a bewildered look. "Why me?" he retorted.

    Piper sneered and rolled her eyes. "As if he wouldn''t trip himself up on the job day one," she retorted, oblivious to the disapproval that flashed across Lucas''s face.

    "I can''t do that," Piper asserted.

    Margaret huffed, a heavy sigh escaping her. "Piper, then you''re going to have to shape up. You''ve been going through Warcaskets, completely totaling them. Zephyr told me, one last chance. If the next one is destroyed without a win, you''re cut from the role."

    With those words hanging in the air, Margaret let the silence settle. Piper sighed, her fingers combing through wild locks of hair once matted by heavy bandages. It would be a relief to sleep in her old bed again, but as she turned and glanced at her hospital bed, she knew this experience would linger.

    Even now, a horrible icy pain flashed through her, a remembrance of the shard of glass that had pierced her eye, like a heated knife through butter. Henryk''s face lingered in her memory.

    They exited Piper''s room, Lucas handling the hospital checkout, while Margaret sought a snack. Standing amidst the coming and going of people, Margaret''s gaze drifted to a large window. The city sprawled out, reminiscent of Old New York City, with a mix of conjoined buildings reaching toward the sky. Some retained a more rooted, traditional aesthetic amidst the techno-modern landscape. The lights of cars, the sounds of planes and starships filled the air, and in the distance, the Imperial Fleet hovered lazily in orbit.

    Lucas and Margaret returned to fetch her, descending the steps. Yet, Henryk trailed within her mind. Horror etched into her features, everything seemed to slow down, her thoughts consumed by the duel.

    She pondered how she could best Henryk in the next encounter, considering holorecords of wizards and witches. Her focus shifted from the confines of her hospital room to the broader world outside, yet her thoughts remained tethered to Henryk.

    "I... I should tell him it wasn''t his fault," she whispered to herself.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    His voice, tinged with fear, offered her a strange comfort as she slid into the car. Resting her head against the window, the hum of the engine resonated in her ears, propelling them swiftly toward the academy.

    The advisors of House Venus gathered after their classes, a meeting deemed more urgent than the myriad others before it. The planning room welcomed them, a table polished over countless years, its surface adorned with an intricately carved tapestry of the solar system. Jace, the helm of the advisors, presided over the gathering.

    Maxtn, dressed in the crisp uniform, stood with a straight posture, glasses framing his intense brown eyes. His gaze shifted between Jace and his sister, questioning, "Why are we here, Jace?"

    Jace''s shoulders rose and fell, features stern, glaring at the table. The others resisted the urge to roll their eyes, anticipating the reason.

    "Henryk is still here," Jace declared firmly.

    Silence hung in the room for a moment. Across the table, a feminine groan erupted. "Henryk, Henryk, Henryk," moaned the girl, black robes draping over the table. Chuckles rippled through the others. "By the gods, you''d think you were a woman speaking your lover''s name," she teased.

    Jace shot her a sharp glare. "Shut your mouth, Eliza, or I''ll shut it for you," he retorted curtly.

    Eliza stood defiantly, her purple eyes shifting to a lighter, more ethereal shade. "Be wise with your words, man thing," she warned.

    "Stand down, skank," snapped Hannah by Jace''s side. "My brother has a right to be angry at Henryk for what he did at the party, for what he did to m..."

    Eliza chuckled heavily. "Yes, I remember how you were, Hannah," she interrupted. Glancing at Jace, she added, "You were so drugged out, I bet you didn''t know who was even who."

    "Watch yourself," Jace spat again. "I won''t warn you twice."

    Eliza chuckled, sinking back into her seat. A hand emerged from the table, still tinged with the echoes of jokes. Platinum blond hair framed a tanned face with dark purple eyes. "Hello, mind if I raise a point... I know you two are arguing, but how about we discuss the main issues bringing us here."

    Hannah breathed heavily, her hand finding her brother''s. He glanced into her eyes and smiled, a gesture that irked Maxtn. For a moment, he failed to hide it, but luckily, no one else saw it ¨C except for one.

    Jace settled back into his seat. "Listen, Lorenzo, he was the antlered knight... you all remember the party and what he did. He tried to assault my sister, brutalized Lancel, and even attacked me. I am the heir to Venus."

    "It''s true," affirmed Hannah. "If this happened on our homeworld, Henryk would''ve been struck blind or lost his hands."

    Maxtn''s eyes widened at that. "I thought Venus was more midworld in these types of regards."

    Jace smiled at Maxtn. "Our world hasn''t forgotten the old ways, Maxtn. They always return, the Neptunians are proof of this." Jace''s allusion remained enigmatic, and Maxtn chose not to prod him forward.

    "Well, that''s touching," replied Eliza, her eyes returning to their normal color and light. "But you forget, we''re not in Venus space. The Academy is neutral ground, and other neutral worlds wouldn''t care. You''re the minority." She laughed loudly and smiled.

    Hannah looked like she wanted to strangle her. Lorenzo sighed. "Jace, what do you intend to do with this situation?"

    Jace shrugged his shoulders. "I am going to deal an appropriate punishment," he declared flatly. "No one will doubt the strength of Venus ever again." He paused, his glare shifting momentarily to Maxtn. "I don''t know what was going on during your term, that had people believing you could assault the president of House Venus and get away with it. But that ends with me."

    Everything drew to a quiet as Jace and Maxtn both locked onto each other. Maxtn didn''t smile, laugh, curse, scream, or swear. Instead, he merely nodded his head. "Yes, sire," Maxtn spoke. "My apologies, sire."

    And Jace wore the brightest and most expansive smile. "You''re forgiven, Maxtn. You''ve messed up, but my Venus shall be one where people can choose to redeem themselves. Think on that for your further goals on improving our planet."

    Maxtn smiled and nodded in agreement. Yet, Eliza turned, and she sensed it¡ªthe hate bubbling from the depths, the restrained anger, and resentment. But there was something more, something subtle¡ªperhaps a touch of jealousy?

    Lorenzo inquired, "What is an appropriate punishment?" He extended his arm across the room, drawing everyone''s attention. Jace, Hannah, Maxtn''s eyes, Eliza''s gaze, and Lancel, with his arm in a cast and crutches to the side, focused on him. "We all voted on what to do before all of this. The majority ruled in sending people to beat on Henryk... but we didn''t rule on more, and these Neptune..."

    "This is getting excessive," Lancel stated matter-of-factly.

    Jace glanced toward him, and Lancel returned the look, one bright purple eye shining while the other was matted with bandages. "I don''t care that Henryk beat the crap out of me in that challenge. Fair is fair; things happen, and the melee can infect people with a crazy type of vigor. But I was not on the boat to either beat him up or..."

    Lancel paused, sneered, and gritted his teeth. "We should just leave him alone. He''s stayed here; that''s the reason we''re talking about this, right?"

    Silence ensued. Jace sneered. "There are people who want him gone as well," he asserted. "We''d be doing the academy population a favor."

    "A favor?" Eliza retorted sarcastically.

    Lorenzo seconded that with a snort. "We''re not in the place to be doing favors for anyone right now," he added. "This place is going to be fired up in a couple of days. If what you''re saying about Sirine is true and..."

    "Everyone is going to have their champion in the coming days," Maxtn stated.

    Lancel nodded in agreement. "Every good pilot, every good mech, every good weapon. If a member of Venus descent can marry Sirine, we can gain a foothold on the academy and the sector. Imagine the riches and the..."

    "It''s the control, Lancel," Maxtn remarked with a snicker. "It''s difficult to get proper worlds annexed, but if this gamble pulls through and..."

    Hannah smirked. "It''s not a gamble; my brother could do it."

    "Yes," Eliza stated. "...and that is all the more reason not to mess with that boy."

    ¡°You sound more afraid of him than I do,¡± Jace remarked with a smirk and a smile.

    Eliza cast her gaze downward. ¡°Henryk, he is an anomaly¡­¡±

    Hannah snickered. ¡°More like an abomination.¡±

    ¡°With his witch powers,¡± added Lancel.

    Eliza sneered. ¡°That one is strange. Usually, male younger wizards have a knack for being noticed easily, but this one did not. It¡¯s even more impressive, his skills¡­¡±

    ¡°You think you can''t beat him?¡± questioned Maxtn.

    Anger etched across her features. ¡°Of course, I could beat him!¡± she declared. ¡°But his skills must be noted. I¡¯ve never met a man outside of the sisterhood of Jupiter that could, alongside his warcasket, wield spells. This Henryk Brown, they say he¡¯s maimed the red rocket.¡±

    Lorenzo sighed. ¡°Henryk came out on top, but Jace put pressure on Mercury to not accept Henryk.¡±

    Maxtn¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You did what?¡± he snapped.

    Jace threw his arm around. ¡°It¡¯s really not that big of a deal¡­ I warned them that there would be consequences for letting an enemy of House Venus in there¡­¡±

    ¡°You threatened them,¡± spat Maxtn. ¡°What were you thinking? We had good relationships with House Mercury for years since their last house extinction.¡±

    Jace shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t be rubbing shoulders with houses that get caught up in their extinctions,¡± and everyone fell silent around the table. ¡°What, what?¡± Jace spoke. ¡°You know how those Mercury rats are. Stacking up on top of each other, practically living on each other. It¡¯s dirty, and I¡¯ve even heard that some of them don¡¯t even know what the sun looks like.¡±

    A tense silence hung over the room after the racist tirade.

    ¡°Listen, they''re scared of us, and¡­¡± Jace tried to speak.

    ¡°They were our friends and comrades. I led by respect and example¡­¡± stated Maxtn.

    And Jace glanced at him simply. ¡°¡­ and I rule by fear to keep people in line. House Venus has endured; we don¡¯t need rats like that around us.¡±

    Maxtn¡¯s groan arose, joining the groans of Lancel and Lorenzo.

    "You just make enemies wherever you go," stated Eliza, her words hanging heavy in the air. Neither Hannah nor Jace turned to face her or responded.

    "Where even is Henryk?" questioned Maxtn. "You said before that you pressed House Mercury to break their deal off with Henryk, but for him to still be here¡­ what house accepted him?"

    Jace remained quiet for a moment, his gaze briefly flickering to his sister. Even she wondered why he did that, and Maxtn''s heart ached, sensing the impending bad news.

    "The weakest of houses," Jace finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

    A heavy silence descended upon the room as everyone absorbed the revelation. They all thought he''d get away with it. And, for a moment, he did.

    "Henryk Brown¡­ he is of House Mars stock."

    The words hung in the air like a shroud, casting a pall over the gathered advisors.

    "Then he''s untouchable," Eliza stated plainly, her tone betraying a hint of resignation.

    Hannah rolled her eyes. "No one is untouchable. Henryk may be mutant filth¡­ but he still bleeds red, and¡ª"

    "What, are you talking of killing him?" Lancel interjected, his eyes widening in alarm.

    Jace''s gaze swept over them all. "He''s a liability that hurt a lot of us¡­ not just us. He''s going to disrupt the natural ecosystem of this school, and we need to cull his wings before so. He''s a danger."

    "You feel more like a danger," retorted Eliza.

    "Hey," snapped Hannah. "You watch¡ª"

    "Your brother needs to watch his hands," Eliza cut in, her gaze like heat rays directed at Hannah. The room fell silent, Jace sneered, and Eliza held her ground. "You were there. Maybe you were too drugged up, but I doubt this was the first time your brother had this happen. I saw him with Sirine¡­ no one broke them away solely due to your brother''s rank. He was going to commit one of the greatest crimes, and Henryk interfered¡­ you should be thanking him for stopping you."

    Jace chuckled loudly. "What should I thank?" he retorted. "The bruise on my cheeks¡­ or that he interfered with me and my bride?"

    Eliza pressed on, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. "The wedding isn''t final yet. But I saw them together at the party¡­ they''re close, Jace. And this one is different than the others that come and go at the academy."

    "Different!" snapped Jace, his voice laced with contempt.

    All eyes turned toward him as he rose from his seat, his presence commanding attention. "He isn''t different, he''s some mutated hick from the backwoods of the galaxy. He is nothing."

    Eliza nodded solemnly. "Keep telling yourself that. But Jace, be wary, for even stags will fight when they feel threatened. Put a blade to Henryk''s throat, and you may find one within your chest."

    Jace''s purple eyes narrowed, a silent warning.

    Undeterred, Eliza continued. "This fight¡­ or whatever it is, has gone too far. Our relations with Mercury are most definitely going to be strained, and the other houses don''t take kindly to us bullying some meager boy who may or may not have done it. We should just ignore him. We don''t need problems with House Mars¡­ they''ll actually do something."

    Lancel rolled his eyes. "House Mars, maybe, but Jace isn''t that far off either. House Mars isn''t what they used to be. Heck, I don''t even know why they were able to enlist within the academy as well. Mars is dead, it''s gone, and nothing can ever live there. Where is anything of theirs coming from?"

    Eliza shot him a look. "Do not take the Martians for weak, Lancel. History has proven that fact wrong multiple times. Even after their destruction, they are still spread throughout the galaxy. Mars''s time will come, all times shall come. But Henryk''s time¡­ if we keep on trying to decide it, our time will come even sooner."

    "I agree," Maxtn interjected. "Henryk has suffered enough. And we should not make mindless enemies with more houses if we don''t need to. Even a poor house like House Mars has their own claws to bear."

    Hannah sneered. "He''s just a low-ranking member," she replied. "Maybe we can¡ª"

    "Mars doesn''t take outsiders," Lorenzo interjected loudly. "I''ve read histories of them. Henryk must be very special for them to accept him so brazenly."

    Lancel chuckled. "I''ve heard that him and Edward, the president, are really tight. He was along the team that came with them to save Sirine¡­I guess that makes them war buddies now."

    Hannah rolled her eyes, but Eliza continued undeterred. "House Mars very rarely outstretched their wings to take on new members from different planets," she explained. "Planetary Dissonance, a concept in which one shall feel loyalty to their birth homeworld. The Martians always needed obedient soldiers¡­ so it would always be the best of the best that would come from different worlds. Those very few, they were the exception."

    She paused, and everyone felt the ancient quality of her words, as if they were etched into age-old tapestries that the young witch had read.

    "They were called the Executors¡­ or solely The Executor," Eliza responded.

    "Executor?" Jace repeated. "I''ve heard that title before mentioned in Venusian history."

    Eliza nodded solemnly. "There once was a young man from House Venus, Caleb Mayer."

    The room fell into a hushed silence, save for Maxtn with his brown eyes, a lone beacon of confusion amid a sea of purple. "Can I be informed?" he playfully interjected, raising his hand.

    "Mayer, that''s a very proud family of Venus. They''re known for making Warcasket parts. We''re Venusians, you know how good that is," explained Hannah.

    "They''re probably second to us in terms of prestige," added Jace.

    Lorenzo chuckled under his breath. "But first in wealth," he muttered to himself.

    Maxtn shrugged. "Then, why is he so infamous? What did he do to cause such problems?"

    Lancel chuckled. "More like his lack of doing was the cause of his problems."

    Eliza turned to Maxtn, her gaze steady. "Caleb Meyer was the firstborn son of House Meyer. They were very prestigious, as Jace and Hannah said, but Caleb didn¡¯t desire that path. He was scrawny, but agile, fixated on intellectual pursuits like Warcasket development. Some of his parts were even utilized by his family''s company. He had such promise, and his family name secured him a ticket to the academy. There was a great party the night before, and off he went."

    Maxtn locked eyes with Eliza. "What happened?"

    "He boarded the vessel that we all had to board," Eliza continued. "He could''ve sat in your very seat for all you know. But Caleb sat down, and no one knows exactly what happened. But the King of Mars, or rather the future king¡­ the Son, found Caleb, and they talked. When the time for choosing came, before, House Mars used to have the honor of going first. Imagine the shock in that great middle circle, with the great young warriors of Mars, and a scrawny boy rising among them. Caleb Meyer, heir to Meyer Industries, recounted all of that to become a member of House Mars."

    Jace chuckled, a dark edge to his amusement. "My father always told me that story. Caleb lost everything. The moment he joined House Mars, his father practically disowned him and named his younger brother as heir. Keeps all of us noble brats in line when we step out of order when we hear that."

    "You trust fund babies," Eliza retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. "Caleb was better than you, better than all of you rich, snobby brats," she remarked, her gaze sweeping the room. "You know of his early history, but what of his history after he left."

    Lancel sighed heavily. "He would go on personal orders by the King of Mars and the Emperor to put down revolts. My father told me of how my great grandfather fought by his side. He described how Caleb piloted his mech like a red asteroid, ramming and destroying everything... armed with a chainsawaxe."

    "He put worlds in line with his name alone," Lorenzo added. "But I don¡¯t understand, though. He was always described as scrawny, and from the history books... I recall that maybe he had a limp."

    Eliza nodded solemnly. "But after he became a Martian, all of his issues faded away into nothing. He could shrug off blows, pilot his warcasket like no normal human could. He was a Knight of Mars that stood above his Knight brothers... you call him a fool, but to the Martians, he was one of their greatest warriors."

    "He isn¡¯t even of their stock," Lorenzo pointed out.

    Eliza chuckled softly. "Oh, he very much is," she countered, a hint of mystery in her tone. "That is what House Mars believes that Henryk is capable of becoming. And you have made an enemy of him, Jace."

    Jace sneered and locked eyes with her. "Well, thank you for the history lesson, Elizabeth," he replied, his sister Hannah hovering above him. "But Henryk is still a problem."

    Lancel shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, if the other houses don¡¯t care anymore... why should we?"

    Jace''s sneer deepened, and he cocked his head. "What would happen if I had a plan to get rid of Henryk, a way without it getting back to any of us?"

    "Well, that would be perfect," Eliza responded eagerly.

    Hannah shot her a glare. "Haven¡¯t you been saying to just leave him alive?" she retorted.

    Eliza rolled her eyes. "Then you¡¯re a fool. Henryk is an anomaly that, for better or worse, spells disaster for both sides. Getting rid of him is a good option... but your brother wants to be far more public about it than we need to. Remember, the academy faculty or the city can¡¯t know about this. They¡¯ll cut funds, put us on strike, and..."

    "You won''t have to worry," Jace replied smoothly, his voice like honey poured over a blade. With a subtle click of the button before him, the air hummed with static. "You can send him in now."

    The heavy doors swung open, revealing Jose, once draped in the somber hues of gray, now adorned in the opulent linens of Venus. His smile, bright as the sun, swept over the assembly of important advisors.

    "How you doing, Prez?" Jose greeted, his words casual, yet beneath the surface, a current of tension simmered.

    "Doing good," Jace replied, his tone devoid of warmth. "I wanted to talk to you about something." The room fell into a weighted silence, every eye fixed on the unfolding exchange.

    "Yes?" Jose''s voice held a note of uncertainty, a threadbare shield against the palpable intensity in the room.

    And then, like the draw of a loaded gun, Jace posed the question, his smile widening with predatory satisfaction. "What are you willing to do¡­ to bring honor and wealth to your friends and family back home?"

    The color drained from Jose''s face, his expression a cocktail of fear and disbelief, but beneath it all, a glimmer of resolve flickered.

    "I would do anything," Jose declared, his voice firm, fueled by the desperation of familial obligation. "Anything and more to bring wealth to my family. My mama is sick."

    Jace''s smile deepened, a serpent basking in the warmth of its prey''s unwitting submission. "Well, that makes me very happy, Jose."

 Chapter 23 - The Battles of The Abyssal System

    Chapter 23 - The Battles of The Abyssal System

    <hr>

    In the depths of the Abyssal System, where darkness reigned supreme, a lone ship prowled, its blue lights cutting through the black like a blade through silk. This vessel, a medium-sized battle cruiser, bore the proud colors of Mercury¡ªa hulking behemoth adorned with the insignias of war.

    Inside, Marcus''s face contorted with discomfort, his features a canvas of shifting hues. Strapped into his orange flight suit, he sat in the cockpit, bathed in the harsh glow of white lights.

    "You all good, Marcus?" came a voice from behind.

    Marcus grunted, his hand clutching his stomach. "All good, Eric," he replied, his voice strained. "Just... this starlane''s got me feeling sick this time around. And this damned mission don¡¯t feel right."

    "You go home during the summer, right? That¡¯s probably why you''re sick," Eric suggested, his voice echoing through the cockpit. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the mech''s interior filled the space. "Hey, you got any smokes? Mind if I bum one off you?"

    Marcus shot Eric an irritated glance. "You''re busy worrying about smokes while I''ve checked the thrusters twice," he snapped. "And I hear you''ve been lazing away."

    Their mech, a mid-tier Mercurian design, loomed around them, its humanoid form a testament to the house''s military prowess. Through the open cockpit, Marcus could see the familiar colors of Mercury, a symbol of their allegiance and duty.

    "You got any smokes?" Eric persisted.

    Marcus scoffed. "Can''t believe you and Lucas smoke that crap," he remarked.

    "So, you¡¯ll get blacked out drunk, but a cigarette near you... you''ll be a wuss," Eric teased.

    Marcus met his gaze squarely. "I titty-fucked a girl at a party," he deadpanned.

    Eric burst into laughter. "Christ, what a thing to say," he replied. "Was it..."

    Marcus chuckled darkly, his voice low and rough. "Pressed my rod between Margaret¡¯s big fat melons, she was drooling over it and all. Fucking exploded on them too."

    "Jesus Christ," Eric exclaimed, his tone a mix of shock and disgust. "I didn''t need to know all that."

    "Well, you did," Marcus replied matter-of-factly, his expression unreadable. "I''ve got a reason to be anxious."

    Eric sneered, his features contorted with distaste. "I don''t know why they''ve got me as your spotter," he grumbled.

    "Because you''re the best of the best, and I am the best sniper," Marcus declared, a hint of arrogance creeping into his voice. "So, the best of the best needs to do what needs to be done." He took a swig from his flask before tucking it back into his jacket. "You want some?"

    Eric shrugged, his eyes darting between Marcus and the flask. "Damn it all, we''re meant to escort them."

    Marcus tossed the flask to Eric, who caught it deftly in the cramped cockpit. "Not the craving for a smoke, but it will do," he muttered.

    "Don''t chug any of that," Marcus warned sternly. "Like I said, I want to get back to sweet good Marge. Drink that for a bit of courage... I have a feeling that this mission is going to be different."

    Eric handed the flask back to Marcus, who stowed it away in a drawer within his cockpit. "What are we even escorting?" Eric asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

    "Something important," Marcus replied cryptically. "I don''t know much, but the briefing... we''ve got our secondaries for this mission. Piper would''ve been here. And we''ve got that boy from Earth too..."

    Eric scowled. "That Earthian needs to stay in his lane."

    "Ease up," Marcus snorted. "That Earthian would hurl you through a window if he heard you call him that. He''s not just here to help us defend the vessel... I get the feeling that the powers at be, there are bigger things happening here."

    "The mockingbird," Eric murmured, his fingers absentmindedly twirling a lock of blackish-grey hair. "I''ve heard things. Is it true that he fought in..."

    "Yep," Marcus confirmed. "He''s a veteran. Don''t let his age fool you."

    "Then..." Eric trailed off, a frown marring his features. "What does Clarissa want with him?"

    Marcus''s sneer deepened, his eyes flashing with suspicion. "That''s the thing. I don''t know why she keeps him around. You were at the party, and you saw how he was treated. She practically abused him, and he took it. Like an abused dog. I don''t get the feeling that Clarissa keeps Atticus around because she likes him. There is something more here. He''s a weapon, a damned good one in a warcasket. This isn''t even the one that he utilized to best Piper... this is a new one."

    Eric fell into silence, his gaze drifting upward through the bulletproof windows of the vessel. Above them hovered Atticus''s mech, a dark silhouette against the vast expanse of space.

    Through those same windows, they caught a glimpse of the massive escort vessel. It was tasked with containing the parts within, crewed by a dozen or more people.

    Atticus''s mech, a midweight, stood out in the darkness. Its camoed green and grey exterior defied its purpose, its sturdy design contrasting sharply with the void around it. But most striking was the blazing eye and the strange visor, adorned with his signature callsign¡ªa chained mockingbird.

    "The name really suits him," Eric remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

    But before Marcus could respond, there was a blast, distant but audible. Panic rippled through the cockpit as the scanners lit up.

    "Explosion!" Eric shouted, his voice tense as he scrambled to his controls.

    "Marcus, what are we doing?" he demanded, the urgency evident in his tone.

    Marcus''s sneer faltered for a moment. "Do not panic. We do not know what that was yet. Wait till¡ª"

    "Everything is going to be all right," a voice echoed through the cockpit, cutting through the tension.

    Eric and Marcus froze, the voice washing over them. "Sorry, mate," Atticus spoke slowly, his heavy tone tinged with an accent that betrayed his calm demeanor. "But you need to tone it down a notch. We''re not in the army. We''re private contractors, and we have the luxury to¡ª"

    Marcus interrupted, his voice sharp with defiance. "We don''t have any luxury on the battlefield," he scoffed. "There''s always prepared and not prepared."

    Atticus chuckled softly. "And there are those so damned worked up that they can''t see rockets coming towards them."

    Eric''s voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent. "Gents, do I need to remind you that the transport got hit by something!"

    Atticus''s calm tone countered the rising panic. "Relax," he said. "That''s what I''m trying to tell you. We''ve stumbled upon the ruins of what looks to be a battle. The corps have their small vessel, and I think they must''ve picked up some debris."

    "A battle?" Marcus repeated, his gaze shifting to the other pilots who had gathered outside the cockpit. Some were already suiting up and arming themselves, preparing for the worst.

    "It''s a ship graveyard," Atticus explained. "The fires are still burning. This had to be a couple of days ago, at the very least."

    Marcus''s skepticism was evident. "Enough of this. I don''t have eyes to see anything."

    "Mate, I''m telling you it''s just a battlefield and nothing more," Atticus insisted. "I''ve been scanning for the last couple of minutes and haven''t picked up anything. The corps are going in there."

    "Then eject us," Marcus suggested firmly.

    Silence followed. Marcus pressed on. "Eject us and send one of us out there. There should be."

    Atticus considered Marcus''s proposal. "You don''t trust an Earthian?" he asked.

    Marcus shook his head. "Where you were born is no matter to me. But we need to get out there. Think about it, that''s an actual warzone. I know you''re good, Atticus, but we''re a company of warcaskets. We can back you up."

    Eric chimed in, offering his support. "Yeah, Marcus raises a pretty good point. My scanners didn''t pick up anything, but if they''ve powered down their warcaskets, we won''t be able to pick up on them. We can get our guys to reinforce and scout the wreckage."

    "Tell them," Marcus urged, nodding in agreement with Eric. But Atticus hesitated.

    "No," he said finally.

    "No," Marcus repeated firmly.

    "I''m not going to bother them," Atticus insisted. "We have one-way communication. They tell me or us what to do, and I relay it back."

    Marcus''s expression hardened. "What sort of mission is this?" he wondered aloud.

    Eric shot Marcus a warning glance, but Marcus pressed on regardless. "No, I''ve never been on a mission like this before," he began. "We''re in deep space protecting cargo that we hardly know anything about, and we''re being escorted by someone from the academy no less. Now, we''ve stumbled upon a war zone...this isn''t even the bad frontier, we''re in..."

    "The Oceana Sector," Eric interjected dryly. "We''re probably closer to its neighboring planet, Oceana II, or how the locals prefer it, Oceana Prime."

    Atticus remained silent, prompting Marcus to continue. "Enough of this, we''re heading out there," he declared.

    "What a real prick," Eric muttered under his breath.

    Marcus chuckled and secured himself into his seat. "Let''s get on with this," he said, adjusting his radio to a different channel. "Erickson, I want to see green on all channels!" he bellowed.

    Eric smirked. "Green across the board!"

    "Good," Marcus replied, a sense of determination in his voice.

    They felt the great crane connect to the back of their warcasket, causing it to shake slightly as the equilibrium shifted. The mech was attached to a great beam, getting primed for action. Through the viewport, Marcus beheld the silent, fiery ships adrift in the black abyss, a sight that would haunt him for both the best and worst of reasons.

    "Let''s do this, Eric," Marcus said slowly.

    "Aye," Eric nodded, his grip tightening on the controls of the spotter module. "Have no fear, Marcus, the body may die, but the soul lives."

    "Gorputza hiltzen da, baina arima bizi da," Marcus responded solemnly. They heard the clinking of their armaments along their chassis.

    Though it was a similar model, theirs was heavily modified. Where Piper''s helm was basic, theirs was equipped with multiple tools for tracking, surveying, and scanning. The head boasted three telescope-like "eyes" that protruded from the machine, glowing a deep scarlet against the mech''s orange plates.

    Their main mech was stripped down, bearing light armor but devoid of exterior equipment like rocket payloads or grenades. Instead, they felt the reassuring clamp of their mech-patterned knife against their warcasket''s thigh, and within their back, their sniper rifle latched on.

    A weapon longer than a school bus gleamed with a black matte finish and a telescope scope, offering an enhanced zoom and tracking capability through the technical portions of their helm.

    "How are we looking at thrusters?" Marcus inquired, deftly navigating the cockpit controls.

    "Everything is green. Give them a look over... pay attention to the hiss," Eric''s voice resonated as Marcus relinquished control, the slight recalibrating of the telescope audible through their helm.

    Marcus gripped the handle of his mech, moving it in different directions to ensure the tactile response was precise. He knew this routine well, having executed it over a hundred times before.

    "We''re good," Marcus declared. "Discharge and follow behind us!" he ordered.

    A chorus of affirmations echoed through the cockpit as both young men were ejected from the ship, their mechs streaking through the stars. Marcus took control, activating their thrusters, revealing the full scope of the battlefield.

    "Woah..." Eric''s voice trailed off as he craned his neck to view Marcus''s viewport.

    The abyss was ablaze. Three colossal destroyers lay crippled, destroyed, and burning before them. These ships, akin to the size of skyscrapers, were torn in half, while others remained mangled, their wreckage scattered among the stars.

    Below them, Oceana II''s bright blue orb floated, seemingly distant yet strikingly noticeable. Marcus sneered at the thought.

    "What a sight to see, mates," Atticus''s voice flooded the radio.

    "The corps want us to escort the package through that?" Marcus questioned.

    Atticus snickered. "I didn''t realize you lacked a taste for danger. We''re warcasket pilots; we''re expendable."

    "True that," Eric retorted from behind.

    Marcus groaned audibly. "This battle couldn''t have been more than a couple of days old. What do you think we should do?"

    Atticus paused, considering Marcus''s question carefully. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked.

    Marcus pressed on. "Are we the first ones to stumble upon this?" he inquired.

    Eric fell into a solemn silence at Marcus''s words. "Atticus, there are still fires raging here. Three dreadnaught-class ships lie in ruins... We don''t even know how many lives were lost aboard those vessels. Isn''t it our duty to..." Eric''s voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken implications.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Atticus''s sigh weighed heavily in the air. "Marcus, you''re a decent man, but the corps made sure nobody else would know. That''s why they specifically assigned us."

    Marcus surveyed the devastation before him. "So, we''re just supposed to turn a blind eye?" he questioned, his tone tinged with disbelief.

    Atticus lapsed into silence, and Eric remained quiet for a moment before speaking up. "It''s not ideal, Marcus. I understand your sentiment¡ªI''d want to help too if I were down there. But these corps, they can nullify the contract in a heartbeat. Heck, I don''t even think we were supposed to witness any of this."

    Marcus''s mind briefly flashed to Margaret, but he shook off the thought, regaining his composure. "Borroka errazagoa da," he muttered to himself, struggling to settle back into his seat. With a sneer, he turned away. This was a mission, he reminded himself. No room for complaints. His duty was to get the job done and return home¡ªno more, no less.

    However, Atticus''s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at his mech''s microphone. A smirk played across his lips, and he chuckled softly. "Hah, you see something new every day," he muttered to himself.

    Moments later, voices crackled over the radio. The other warcaskets had been ejected from the chute, identical copies to their own. Those from their house were equipped with basic gear: an assault rifle, an anti-mech blade, and grenades. Five of them.

    "Marcus... Eric, what the hell is all this?" Todd''s voice pierced the airwaves.

    Marcus turned his attention to the other two men, Todd and Jeremiah, both older than the rest. Todd, at twenty-two, and Jeremiah, at twenty-four, guided their mechs toward them, their thrusters assisting in their graceful drift through the vacuum of space.

    "Jesus Christ," Jeremiah''s voice crackled over the radio. They could hear the tremor in his voice as he muttered a silent prayer to himself. "What in God''s name happened here?"

    Eric grabbed the mic, his voice cutting through the tension. "We''re flying blind here. But the corps and The Mockingbird want us to keep pushing into that wreck."

    Atticus opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it, exhaling heavily as he refocused his attention ahead.

    Marcus sighed, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "Enough talk. The mission still holds. We protect the cargo from anything that comes at us. This is high stakes, folks... Zephyr picked us for a reason. He didn''t want any screw-ups."

    A pregnant pause hung in the air until Todd broke it with a resigned sigh. "Alright, Marcus, you''ve got a point. What''s the plan?"

    Marcus hummed thoughtfully, tracing his fingers along the debris as he mulled over his strategy. "The wreckage... it''s me and two other snipers. We''ll fan out, pick off any threats from a distance," he explained, nodding toward Jeremiah. "Jeremiah, you take the other three. Get in close to the ship. There''ll be plenty of hiding spots for snipers, and..."

    "They''re probably thinking the same thing," Jeremiah interjected, his tone resigned. "Time to face the music."

    Marcus paused, considering. "Todd, you hang back. Keep a position where you can support the others," he instructed.

    Todd hesitated. "You don''t want me covering your backs?" he queried.

    Marcus shook his head. "Find a spot where you can provide the best support. The snipers will be hiding. Let''s hope this is just a deserted battleground."

    "Let''s hope," Todd echoed, but Marcus couldn''t shake the feeling of impending danger. He flexed his sweaty fingers nervously.

    Swiveling his mech toward the others, Marcus saw the subtle differences that set Jeremiah''s apart. Though the model was the same, Jeremiah''s bore upgrades and modifications, making it distinct.

    "Enough talk," Marcus declared, the urgency in his voice palpable as they prepared to venture into the void. "As Jeremiah said, it''s time to face the music. Find your positions and move out!"

    With streaks of blue and dark orange-black, they navigated the debris field. "No casualties from debris, people," Marcus barked over the radio. "Check those thrusters before you do anything stupid."

    Todd''s voice pierced through the silence. "Chief, I''m in position."

    As Marcus and Eric''s mechs descended, their blue thrusters flickered and died out, the rhythmic clunk of their descent echoing within the confines of the destroyed warship.

    "Eric, flashlight," Marcus commanded.

    "Aye," Eric replied, and the beams of light pierced the darkness.

    "Good job, Todd," Marcus acknowledged. "Power down your mech and hang tight out there for a while."

    "I-I... H-here you... chief," Todd stuttered.

    Marcus winced at Todd''s nervousness. "Damn it, Eric, how deep are we?"

    Eric sighed. "We''re deep inside one of these wrecks. All this debris and the hull around us... it''s causing interference."

    Frustrated, Marcus tried to adjust the radio, but the static persisted. "Fine, but Atticus better have our backs if things get messy. I''ve heard stories of pilots being left high and dry on these missions, or worse..."

    Eric let out a loud groan. "Marcus, I know you''re anxious, but I''ve got a bad feeling about this too. We need to stay focused."

    Marcus''s eyes widened. "You feel it too?"

    "Of course I do," Eric declared firmly. "This whole mission reeks of trouble. We''re out here in the depths of space, navigating through a battlefield. We don''t even know which factions were duking it out."

    Marcus nodded in agreement. "I didn''t see any faction insignias on this ship."

    "It''s possible," Eric agreed. "These frontier worlds often see themselves as independent entities, controlled by corporations or houses."

    "Maybe," Marcus murmured, his gaze fixated on the vast expanse of space. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. His eyes scanned the inky blackness like a predator, and he gripped his sniper rifle tightly.

    With the rifle aimed ahead, Marcus reached for a pair of binoculars, bringing them to his eyes. He squinted through the lens, and finally, clarity emerged.

    The battlefield unfolded beneath Marcus''s telescopic gaze, his eyes melding with the view of his sniper mech. Mercurian weapons were functional, but not of Martian caliber. Marcus pondered the state of their homeland, its shining point being only adequate mechs. Frustration laced his words. "We''ve got the numbers, but look at us¡ªa mere population of adequate mechs. We''re vulnerable. Even the Martians, with their laser weapons, could wipe us out."

    Eric caught wind of Marcus''s discontent. "Marcus, that''s our culture," he offered with a strained smile. The melancholy scene played out around them¡ªthe lone grey corpo ship streaking through the sky, Atticus''s camouflaged mech blending into the cosmic canvas.

    Eric continued, "Every house has its uniqueness. Earth is our birthplace, but Mercury is our home. That''s where our children will be born, where my family has roots for generations. But I''ve seen us grow weaker."

    Marcus''s eyes widened at the revelation. Eric sneered. "We keep letting people in, but we lack the funds for it, Marcus."

    Marcus''s features saddened. "I know," he admitted, his expression fraught. "I aspired to be a warcasket pilot, to honor my house and follow in my father''s footsteps through the military ranks. But we''re struggling. People are living in basements now."

    Eric''s sneer persisted. "Zephyr is a fool. We''re starving, barely meeting our tax obligations, and look at Piper¡ªduel after duel, warcasket after warcasket. Some in the mechanic division wanted to strangle that orange-haired woman."

    Marcus winced at the harsh words but sighed. "Piper is facing her own struggles," he pointed out.

    Eric snickered bitterly. "We''re all suffering. This first mission is a nightmare. That girl better think twice before climbing into another warcasket, or I''ll..."

    Marcus shot him a stern look. "Watch yourself, Eric," he warned. Eric recoiled into his seat. "While you and I are friends, spotter and pilot, I''ve known Piper for a long time. I''ve fought alongside her. I understand your frustrations, but I won''t condone any disrespect toward her."

    Eric turned away, his annoyance palpable as he glared into the electronic hum of his screen. "Fine, then," he muttered, his frustration evident.

    Marcus sank into his seat, weary of the drama unfolding. "So much drama," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Sometimes I just want..."

    His words were cut short as a steel-pale ship, deceptively small from a distance, took a direct hit from above. A purple laser pierced the air, sending shockwaves through Todd, Jeremiah, Atticus, Marcus, and Eric, their eyes widening in disbelief as chaos erupted.

    "What the hell was that!" Eric''s voice rang out.

    "I don''t..." Marcus began, but his words trailed off.

    Atticus''s frantic voice crackled through the comms. "Atticus!" Marcus shouted, urgency in his tone. "Reorient yourself!"

    "I''m trying!" Atticus''s reply was strained as his mech spiraled out of control, a helpless tumble through the vacuum of space.

    Eric''s machines blazed to life, casting his features in a yellow glow¡ªa familiar sight, but one that spelled trouble. "Trouble, Marcus!" he shouted.

    "Tell me what you''re seeing!" Marcus''s grip tightened on the controls. He had a clear line of sight through the hangar. Darting towards the edge, he prepared to take pot shots¡ªthey had no time to waste after the cargo craft''s destruction. Their thrusters roared as they sped through the desolate, debris-strewn hangar.

    "We''ve got three reds approaching the craft from below!" Eric''s urgent voice crackled over the comms.

    "You hear that, Jeremiah?" Marcus barked.

    Jeremiah readied himself, gripping his AK-style mech assault rifle with practiced ease. "I was born ready," he affirmed, his gaze fixed on the approaching threat. As three menacing warcaskets burst into view, he wasted no time. "Fuck them and shoot them!" he commanded, gunfire echoing through the confines of space as they fought for their lives.

    Atticus felt the searing heat of the laser blast, a violent force hurling him downwards. Yet, his instincts kicked in, and with a swift recovery, he retaliated. Growling, he seized his controls, his mid-tier weight descending upon the mech furthest from the group of three. With a powerful kick, he sent the opposing pilot scrambling, reducing their mech to a molten mess of grinding metal.

    Jermiah and the other Mercurian pilots erupted into triumphant whoops as they exchanged machine gun fire with the remaining two mechs. As Atticus descended, he joined the fray, his own machine gun blazing. But amidst the chaos, he spotted more threats below.

    "Marcus!" he bellowed into his mic. "There are more underneath us!"

    Marcus, his eye narrowed with determination, took aim and fired. His bullet found its mark, piercing through the brain of the middle black mech, sending it spiraling into oblivion. Jermiah and the others swiftly added to the onslaught, their bullets sealing the fate of the enemy mech and its pilot.

    Recalibrating himself, Atticus streaked upwards, his gaze drawn to the Corpo ship reduced to slag, hurtling towards Oceana II. "Oh my god," he muttered, anticipating the wrath of Clarissa and Makena. Yet, he couldn''t abandon his struggling Mercurian allies. With a resigned sigh, he plunged back into the fray.

    Meanwhile, Eric''s urgent cry shattered the tense atmosphere. "Marcus, fucking move!" Marcus''s widened eyes caught sight of the impending danger, narrowly dodging a rocket hurtling towards them. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, they were plummeting out of the hangar, a mech bearing down on them, its machine gun firing.

    A shell crashed through the cockpit, sending the enemy mech adrift in space. Marcus and Eric, adrenaline coursing through their veins, exchanged breathless glances. "Good job, Machenzie!" Marcus cheered, relief evident in his voice.

    "Fucker nearly got the drop on us," Eric muttered, still grappling with the shock of the near miss. Then, realization dawned on Marcus. "They''re picking up on our sniper positions," he mumbled to himself, swiftly issuing orders over the radio. "Reporting to every sniper, scatter, scatter!" he commanded, their survival now dependent on their ability to adapt and outmaneuver the enemy.

    And then, Machenzie''s voice, vibrant and alive, was silenced in an instant. A shroud of silence enveloped them, broken only by the echoing boom of an explosion, a grim punctuation mark to her existence.

    "They got Mackenzie¡­they got Mackenzie!" The words tumbled from the lips of one of their junior pilots, the shock reverberating through the cockpit. But Marcus remained motionless, his mind racing. Piper wouldn''t have frozen.

    Eric sprang into action, his fingers flying over the controls as he activated the communication system. "Todd¡­Jermiah!" His voice cracked with urgency. "To hell with the mission. We''re flying blind here, and that craft''s a lost cause."

    Marcus''s eyes locked onto the approaching wreckage, his gaze tracing the emblem emblazoned on the mech''s chassis. "They''re Jacen''s pirates," he muttered grimly.

    "Jacen''s pirates?" Eric echoed, his confusion palpable. "Who the hell is¡ª"

    "They''re a ruthless band of raiders," Marcus interrupted, his voice edged with contempt. "They must have known we were coming."

    Eric''s gaze swept the horizon. "What about salvage?"

    Marcus shook his head. "Forget the salvage. That ship''s going down, heading straight for Oceana II. We need to worry about the warcaskets hunting us down."

    With grim determination, Marcus seized the controls, guiding them along the fringes of the battlefield. "We need to break free," he commanded. "Jacen''s Pirates won''t hesitate to tear us apart."

    But amidst the chaos, Jermiah''s laughter rang out, a discordant symphony of bloodlust. His mech danced and darted, a deadly waltz among the fray. "What''s the matter, Marcus?" he taunted. "Aren''t you ready to do the Lord''s work and rid the world of these heathens?" With a flourish, he brandished his mech axe, cleaving through enemy mechs with ruthless efficiency.

    Meanwhile, Todd''s shots rang out, each one finding its mark with deadly precision. "Marcus is right," he called out. "They''re weak, but they''re swarming us. Mockingbird, how''s it looking?"

    In the heart of the maelstrom, Atticus spiraled, locked in a deadly dance with three enemy mechs. His movements were fluid, his guns blazing, each bullet finding its target with deadly accuracy.

    "Everyone, fall back!" Marcus''s voice cut through the chaos, a beacon of command in the swirling madness of battle. With a chorus of thrusters roaring to life, they kicked themselves away, streaking through the star-strewn void like comets on a collision course with destiny. But amidst the brilliant blue trails they left behind, the ominous orange flames of their pursuers left a grim smog of death in their wake.

    Below them, Todd watched with a grim satisfaction as the enemy warcaskets closed in. His sniper rifle was stowed away, replaced by a close-ranged marksman rifle. Each shot was a precision strike, nicking their armor before delivering the final blow¡ªa symphony of destruction orchestrated by Todd''s steady hand.

    Meanwhile, Atticus danced through the skies, his movements a lethal ballet of evasion and retaliation.

    Marcus, his eyes fixed on the looming ship at the battlefield''s edge, seized the moment to request emergency evacuation. "Riskara, we need emergency evacuation on the double!"

    A gunshot shattered the airwaves, silencing Marcus. Eric, glancing up from his console, received the grim revelation. "Riskara is dead."

    The voice on the other end, belonging to an unknown interloper, spoke with a chilling nonchalance. "I am a sergeant, part of Jacen''s Pirates. We were curious about that nice cargo of yours. If you had just backed off, things wouldn''t have to get that messy."

    "Messy," Marcus ground his teeth together, a feral growl beneath his words. "You murdered our captain!"

    The voice chuckled, unsettlingly calm. "...if you do not cease your hostility. Riskara will not be the only one that dies. Well, I suppose that¡¯s wrong¡­many people have already died today.."

    Marcus fell silent, the weight of the threat sinking in. The man continued, revealing the leverage he held. "I have all of your mechanics, engineers, and anyone that stayed behind at me and my men''s mercy. Give up, and I''ll be cordial...if you don''t."

    Eric, unimpressed, challenged the mysterious speaker. "How do we know that, you bastard? I''m talking to you. You think we''re going to believe a word some pirate''s got to say."

    "How did you get in our ship?" Marcus probed, seeking answers amid the chaos.

    Eric sneered, his defiance unyielding. "Don''t even bother, Marcus. I''d sooner blow up the ship than¡ª"

    "You''d rather blow up the ship and let dozens of our guys die, let them not return back to their families, you do realize that Riskara and¡ª"

    "Todd!" Jermiah''s shout cut through the chaos, the urgency of the moment palpable.

    A different mech emerged from the fray, distinctive with its formidable backpack of missiles. It locked onto Todd, and with a deafening roar, it unleashed its deadly payload.

    "Shit!" Todd''s voice echoed, frantic amidst the turmoil. His mech maneuvered with desperate agility, the blue vapors of the missiles colliding with the fiery orange of his rocket flame. The explosion consumed his mech, leaving nothing but molten wreckage in its wake.

    "Todd!" Jermiah''s cry was drowned out by the thunderous onslaught of enemy fire. Undeterred, he plunged into the maelstrom, fueled by righteous fury. "By the Lord''s wrath, I''ll deliver judgment for you, Todd!" His movements became a frenzied dance of destruction, cleaving through the horde of warcaskets with relentless determination.

    "You''re obviously not working with me," the voice declared once more, its tone dripping with malice. Marcus listened intently, his heart pounding in his chest. "Get me another one this time¡­make it a girl, yeah, again¡­"

    "Wait, stop, hold on¡­" Marcus interjected, his voice strained with urgency.

    "No, you think we''re playing games," the voice retorted, the threat tangible. Marcus tensed as he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. A shot rang out, followed by the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground. "You still fancy that your impenetrable vessel was conquered. You little fuckers want to start playing nice before we overpower you all and rape your corpses."

    Marcus struggled to control his breathing, his mind racing with the grim reality of their predicament.

    "I can hear your breathing¡­what''s your name, boy?" the voice taunted.

    "Marcus," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

    "Well, Marcus, nice to meet you. I guess you''re the one pulling the strings on this assault, but I''ve got to tell you, you''re killing a bunch of our guys and while I don''t care about our guys. You''re starting to be a hassle on me due to the number your killing."

    Marcus fixed a stern glare at the screen. "You''re one to talk, fucker," he shot back, his words laced with defiance. "You murdered some of my underlings and one of our aces. I won''t forget this."

    The man''s laughter echoed loudly through the comm. "...and I am willing to parlay with you. Even though, you know, that you murdered a good chunk of my guys¡­how many, a good twenty¡­"

    "Five!" Jermiah''s voice boomed over the comm. "Twenty-five! We murdered you sons of bitches¡­and I''ll keep coming down on you till."

    "Jermiah!" Marcus''s voice pierced the tense silence, commanding attention.

    "M-Marcus," Jermiah stuttered breathlessly. "What are you¡­"

    "What are your terms if we surrender?" Marcus interjected, his tone urgent.

    "Marcus," Eric''s voice interjected, but Marcus silenced him with a glare.

    "What do you want, Eric¡­what do both of you want?" Marcus demanded, his frustration palpable. "We''re surrounded in front of us, and behind us. They took the escape vessel and we don''t have any proper way to enter the planet."

    Jermiah''s teeth ground together in frustration. "There has to be a way, there has to be a better way!" he exclaimed. "I won''t be someone''s slave or prisoner or¡ª"

    "Get used to it!" Marcus''s words cut through the air with grim finality. "Because that man already executed two of our own¡­girls too."

    The mention of their fallen comrades brought a swift silence to the group. "I won''t forget, I won''t forgive," Jermiah spoke harshly, his resolve hardening.

    "I am not asking for that," Marcus replied calmly. "But right now, if we continue, we are all going to die."

    Marcus''s thoughts drifted to Margaret and the others back at the academy, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "Really, this is how my semester starts?"

    They surrendered, their mechs collected, and Jacen''s pirates took them aboard. Bound with cables around their hands and feet, they were herded like cattle into their uncertain fate.

    "Welcome to your new lives," one of the pirates sneered, his tone dripping with malice.

    Another added with a twisted grin, "I would say to pretty yourself up the best you could. We like to go into the deep frontier and sometimes sell pretty ladies." His gaze shifted towards Marcus, Jermiah, and Eric, the flashlight beam casting shadows across their faces.

    The three young men bore bruises from the scuffle, reminders of the friends they had lost in the skirmish. But the pirate''s laughter echoed hollowly in the confined space, sending shivers down their spines.

    "Sometimes¡­we also like to sell the pretty lads," the pirate jeered, his words dripping with cruelty. "Have a good night, gentlemen. Sleep tight, knowing of the future you are going to have."

    As the rusted door slammed shut, they were enveloped by darkness, consumed by a sense of hopelessness. Unbeknownst to them, the Sons of a Dead World may hold the key to their salvation in their darkest hour¡ªor perhaps, an even greater and harsher fate awaits.

 Chapter 24 - "Whom Are You, Who Dont Know Your History?"

    Chapter 24 - "Whom Are You, Who Don''t Know Your History?"

    <hr>

    "Violence shall grant you strength."

    With those chilling words echoing in his mind, Henryk jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat, gasping for air as if he''d been held underwater. Fingers clenched tightly against the sheets, he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings that enveloped him, a sense of disorientation clouding his senses. But the panic subsided, albeit slowly.

    As his breathing gradually steadied, his fingers loosened their grip on the sheets. Blinking, his blue eyes struggled to focus, slowly piecing together the fragments of reality before him. It was a room, he realized, though not one he recognized. Yet, somehow, he knew it was his now.

    Tearing his gaze away from the unfamiliar surroundings, Henryk''s mind raced, grappling with the remnants of the unsettling experience that had just unfolded. It was no mere dream, he knew that much. His eyes widened, the whites stark against the darkness of the room, as his trembling hands rose to cover his face.

    Henryk searched his thoughts, seeking to unravel the mystery of what had transpired. He had been tutored by a variety of mentors¡ªwizards and witches alike¡ªwho had honed their magical prowess through their journeys as adventurers, mercenaries, and bounty hunters. In the wake of the cataclysm, many had been forced to adapt, relying on their abilities to navigate a world forever altered. His colony, lacking the resources for an Empirical Magical Tutor, had made do with what they had. And now, Henryk recognized the signs for what they were.

    A knock rapped at his door, and Henryk''s gaze shifted, noting the sun''s rays slicing through the window''s slit. "Yo, Henryk," Ty''s voice drifted in. "Breakfast''s almost on, and Ed wants everyone downstairs for their assignments."

    With Ty''s departure echoing down the stairs, Henryk sighed, rising from his bed and shedding the weight of fatigue. His clothes, though worn and soiled, clung to him like a second skin. Thoughts of Jose''s betrayal flickered in his mind, a sneer tugging at his lips as he fingered the fabric of his uniform, the emblem of House Mars gleaming in his eye. Yet, something else caught his attention.

    His gaze drifted to his left wrist, dread coursing through him. There were no visible wounds, but faint, jagged marks marred his skin, remnants of a dream that had seeped into reality. Fear coiled in his gut at the implications, but he pushed it aside. Axel''s insults echoed in his mind, a reminder of his outsider status among the true-born Martians. He''d never truly be one of them.

    Yet, he needed their acceptance to secure his family''s future, to benefit his home. Perhaps, one day, he''d betray these traitors just as they''d betrayed their own. With a determined sneer, he resolved to play his part, to wear his mask until the time was right.

    Thoughts of Ed flickered through his mind. Was he different? Zephyr had promised him a place in House Mercury, but Ed had seen past his reputation, embracing him for his skills and conviction. So, he donned his uniform and ventured downstairs, the aroma of bacon and the sounds of laughter guiding his way.

    Entering the dining room, Henryk found himself amidst the members of House Mars, their numbers greater than he''d realized. The stone table, adorned with strange rivets, stood as a testament to their status, a silent reminder of the power they once wielded.

    Ed sat near the center, a picture of domesticity, while Vinnie presided over a pot of simmering eggs, Axel''s eyes brightened at the sight of pancakes, and Ty and August shared pitchers of orange juice. Isaac and Jacob were engrossed in conversation, while Joseph struggled to contain his laughter between mouthfuls. Henryk hesitated, feeling out of place amidst the camaraderie.

    "Come eat, Henryk," Ed beckoned, and Henryk felt a pang of relief at the lack of rigidity in House Mars. In other houses, such informality might have invited punishment, but here, it was welcomed. He nodded, taking the seat next to Ed, the crackling of the fireplace providing a backdrop to their meal.

    "How''d you sleep?" Joseph''s question pulled Henryk from his thoughts.

    "Better than outside," Henryk replied, the memory of cold asphalt sending a shiver down his spine.

    "Damn straight," Isaac chimed in, twirling his fork between his fingers. "I''d take a house over the street any day."

    "Hear hear," Joseph raised his cup in agreement. "This lineup''s looking good. Got a good feeling about it."

    Axel snorted in response. "Good lineup? More like a bunch of misfits."

    Arthur, rising from his seat, challenged Axel. "Got something to say, pretty boy?"

    "A bunch of undesirables," Axel retorted, his words dripping with disdain.

    Isaac laughed, unfazed by Axel''s scorn. "How''s the job hunt going, Axel?"

    Axel''s cheeks reddened, but before he could respond, the group erupted in laughter. "Oh, it''s going just fine!" they chorused, mocking Axel good-naturedly.

    Axel huffed, burying his face in his food. Arthur, unperturbed, loaded Henryk''s plate, flashing a grin before announcing his new job as a butcher.

    As Henryk observed the camaraderie around him, a sense of belonging washed over him. They were an odd bunch, but there was a closeness among them, a bond forged in adversity. He turned his attention to his meal, content to let the laughter and banter wash over him, feeling oddly at home in this eclectic group.

    The atmosphere at the school was peculiar, Henryk thought. It wasn''t your run-of-the-mill institution; it was a place meant to shape them into heroes of the empire. He understood the weight of their mission, the need to honor their homeland and his father''s memory. They all deserved recognition, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to elevate them within the empire''s ranks.

    "So this job as a butcher is supposed to get us more food?" August inquired, breaking the silence.

    "It''s a start. I''ve never had much experience with money from the midworlders. At the very least, I''ll be doing my part and more," replied Arthur.

    "A real saint, huh?" Vinnie chuckled, turning to Edward. "Hey boss, any luck contacting the Guild?"

    The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Edward. He sighed. "They''re not interested in associating with any Martian groups."

    "Bastards," Isaac muttered, echoing the sentiments of a few others. "Back in the day, our fathers could just show up at their doorstep, and they''d bow to them. Now, you can''t even get a decent contract."

    "There''s no point dwelling on it," Arthur interjected.

    "Maybe not to you, but after Mars, I was raised on a culture that valued honor, loyalty, and creed," Isaac snapped, his voice tinged with bitterness. "As Martians, we are superior. The blessings of the gods of Mars were meant for us to be stronger, faster, and wield true weapons. Our genetic lineage may be from Earth, but it was the seed of Mars that is our true legacy."

    A heavy silence hung in the air. Vinnie sneered. "Ah, you''re one of those Martians."

    "One of what?" Isaac shot back. "What does that even mean?" His temper flared, and he rose from his seat, the chair skidding backward. Henryk noticed the remarkable cleanliness of the room, as if they had been fixing it up.

    "Easy there, Zealot," Vin retorted, undeterred as he continued eating. "Gods of Mars, genetic ancestry, seeds and..."

    Isaac interrupted sharply. "Don''t drag the hick into this. This is between us. Do you not believe in the Martian Decree?"

    Vinnie sighed. "My education taught me a lot about science, philosophy. I don''t buy into tales of Spirit Wolves, sword legends, or great god birds and Martian prophecies. All far-fetched."

    Isaac scoffed. "Far-fetched, like the stories of our homeland. You''re educated, yet you don''t appreciate the triumphs of your culture, your history."

    "That was the problem with Mars," Vinnie interjected, rising to his feet and pointing his fork at Isaac, who settled back down. "We were a bunch of cultists, believing in star constellations, ghosts..."

    "Enough, Vinnie," Ed sighed wearily, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "All this bickering, it''s wearing thin. We''re a team now, and it''s time to start acting like one." He paused, laying down his book and gesturing toward Henryk. "Eat up, we begin training today."

    His gaze swept the room, eyes hardening with determination. "I mean it. Whether you''ve got work or you''re nursing a hangover from a night with a girl, I want to see you out in the yard or library honing your skills. This is your craft, your expertise, and we need to restore the glory of the house. We''ll have to work twice, no, thrice as hard against the other houses."

    Isaac''s eyes flicked to the large windows. "But it''s raining!" he protested.

    "Good, a rain melee always gets the blood boiling," Arthur remarked, rising from his seat. He turned to Ed. "Sir, what do you want us to train with today?"

    Edward was momentarily speechless, but quickly composed himself. "Sword and fist," he declared, as the others finished their plates.

    "Do you know about the guild, the purpose of the academy?" Edward directed his question at Henryk.

    "No, I don''t even know what a guild is," Henryk admitted honestly.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Edward sighed. "You must understand, we''re old enough to enlist in His Majesty''s army, but we hone our talents here. This place, and its sister schools, are different. We train against real threats," Ed said, tapping his temple. "We study to understand the enemy, to go out there and eliminate them."

    Isaac chuckled under his breath. "For the Emperor," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "...and the kings of Mars."

    "Of course, there''s also prestige, honor, and wealth," Axel rambled. "Do well here, and you could serve as an advisor, royalty, or gain great prestige on some worlds."

    "But you''ll see some more than others. Don''t know what kind of person would go to Earth, or a woman to Pluto," Vin commented.

    "The guild tests you. They give you missions of varying difficulty. Assassinations against hostile alien races, settling petty feuds between lords, and sometimes we''re commissioned for military tasks... or forced into them," Ed explained to Henryk. "We Martians were once knights, loyal warriors to the Emperor. Now, we wear our shame," he added, watching Henryk''s gaze drift to his bloodied right arm, marked like paint splatters, shamed by Mars, and shamed as a mutant. "Do you know about the Executor?"

    Henryk slowly shook his head, feeling a chill settle over him. Ed gestured around the room. "The role of the Executor. There have only been six, maybe seven if you pass," Ed paused, sweeping his hand toward the other participants beside Henryk. "None of us can do it. It''s for exceptional individuals who have shown promise, and some of us believe you can do it... However, Henryk, regardless of any precautions in this known universe," Ed''s eyes widened, and Henryk felt a shiver run down his spine as he leaned back in his seat.

    "Whatever precautions you have in this universe, they''ll be twisted upon your fucking axis, and if you''re not careful, you''ll die. Your family will die, your sisters will die, and everything you hold dear will burn around you. We Martians know this," Edward''s voice was as cold and unyielding as Martian steel. "Are you prepared to die on a dead world?"

    Henryk felt the weight of Edward''s words bearing down on him, his gaze locked with those of the others. He realized then that Edward had posed this question before, and they had all accepted it.

    "Are you ready to die dishonorably, to endure a slow and agonizing death, a death that might not even belong to you anymore?" Edward''s tone was grim as he surveyed them, his eyes lingering on Ty, still wincing from his recent encounter. "Look at that evil, Henryk. Ty faced a member of Neptune trying to kill him."

    Vinnie''s lips curled into a sneer. "Those bastards fight dirty. They kidnapped one of our own, Ed. We''ve got to deal with them."

    "Not now, Vinnie," Ed interjected sharply. "That''s just a fraction of the horrors at the academy. The politics here are cutthroat, filled with drama and intrigue. Many here are just looking to advance their own positions. We''ve heard terrible stories about this place. Are you prepared to follow us into the darkness?"

    "We''ll be going on raiding missions and guild assignments. We need to make money and acquire genuine Martian armor," Isaac remarked with a grin. "You''ve said it before, Ed. We can start tearing this place apart. A true Martian keeps his weapons hidden, his armor sealed, and his knowledge close. There has to be more to find here. I don''t need any Neptunian gear."

    "But there is glory," Arthur added, his tone brutal as he narrowed his eyes, Axel nodding in agreement.

    "I agree," Isaac chimed in, and Arthur shot a smirk in his direction. "I remember our Martian heritage. I don''t like you, hick. I see you as nothing but a pest, infesting our house alongside the rest of the squires. You''ll get no love from me, but Ed''s rambling is getting old."

    Ed turned to him, his expression grave. "Death in a WarCasket is a brutal fate," he said.

    "A death in..." Axel started, then faltered.

    Ed''s gaze shifted to Henryk. "You have your mother and sisters. You possess the skills to excel in various aspects of piloting a WarCasket. Your kind can navigate the stars, your magic¡ª"

    "My mutations," Henryk interrupted, his voice dripping with bitterness. "I''m not special. I''m an abomination. I don''t use them, and the only reason I have them is for self-defense." He paused, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at them.

    "But you''re strong," Edward insisted. "I saw you best Piper. She had the upper hand at first, but your magic, your skills with that Executor blade¡ª"

    "You want to take the wizard on missions?" Vinnie interjected.

    "This better not be some pity mission because he''s..." Arthur began, his voice trailing off.

    "He''s not a wizard. His genome has mutated."

    Isaac facepalmed, muttering, "Are we really doing this right now?"

    Vinnie launched into a loud rant, "Genetic mutation, look at Tyson. Random space anomalies, widespread hysteria, humans adapting to different planets. You guys are basically ignoring all the scientific evidence that Henryk is just a genetic anomaly that¡ª"

    "He''s a fucking space wizard," Joseph interjected sharply. "He shot lightning out of his mangled Warcasket. I''ve never seen anything like that before, so no, I do not believe that science can explain that."

    Vinnie sneered. "He''s not the only one; there are thousands that believe in what the main empire preaches. There isn''t anything magical happening. There was no Wonderful Spring. There are just legends, stories, and brute reality."

    Arthur scoffed. "Get real," he declared, throwing his hands down in mockery, earning laughter from the crowd.

    "I agree, Henryk''s kind are a mixed bag of mutants, but hey, you''re the first real wizard I''ve met," replied Isaac.

    "I''ve had a couple," Joseph remarked. "In my tribe, the gene was special. Never realized that they exploited you guys; you come to my world, many women would be very interested."

    "Gee, thanks," Henryk retorted. "What world is that?"

    Laughter erupted. "Funny guy," Joseph replied, and Ed clapped hard. "Enough, you all done eating?" he asked.

    They cleared their plates. "Good, August has plate duty for tonight. Meet me all outside, and we''re going to train."

    As they rushed outside, August shuddered at the sight of the plates. They reached the deck, greeted by a grey sky. Weapons awaited them. Henryk paused, realizing that Arthur had picked up a real sword¡ªthe sound it emitted confirmed it.

    "Come on, Henryk. Get your shirt off; a melee like this... feel the rain against your skin. Your blood will pump harder."

    Henryk slid off his uniform jacket and removed the tie, the grass brushing against them as the wind blew fiercely. Shirtless, he suddenly noticed something wrong.

    Their backs were wrong.

    A primal fear surged through Henryk''s spine. It felt as if he stared into a cave, and something smiled back. For a moment, he was taken off guard by the alien visage that adorned their backs. What was it? It had to be wrong. What were they...

    Isaac''s figure caught Henryk''s eye. Slanted spikes rode along the base of his spine, reminiscent of the spikes of an angler fish. Carbon black, yet alien in design, they extended three inches, five in number, disappearing into their pants. It dawned on Henryk then and there¡ªthey were all of Martian birth. Was this how the people of House Mars mutated from their time in the core world?

    Was he now in a den of mutants? How could he complain? He was more akin to them now than before.

    "Henryk, you''re going to fight Ty!" Ed flagged him over, Joseph and Isaac dropping pieces of rugged armor and wooden swords.

    Henryk stared at the gear. They were training¡ªactually training on how to fight. He donned his own armor and gripped his weapon. "Prepare yourself, Henryk," his mind whispered. This training would hone him into a warrior, someone who would bear the burden of his homeland, bringing honor and prestige.

    He''d grant his homeworld honor and prestige, bearing whatever weight came with it. House Mars seemed the place to do it. Before, he hadn''t realized why he disliked the other houses, but now it made sense. They were lazy, miserable, racist, bickering, indulging¡ªthese were the people who would rule the solar system one day?

    Their house was damned, but not destroyed. They could rebuild, and Henryk sensed their potential. He felt their exhilaration, their call for brotherhood, as he gripped the sword and approached Ed.

    "I accept it, Edward," Henryk declared. "If you truly believe we can gain honor, I''ll be the greatest among us all. I''ll forever remember this debt and how you gave me a chance to stay here and gain said honor. I''ll do whatever you ask of me¡ªtell me when to wake up, work me to the bone, even if it kills me. I will not go home empty-handed."

    They were speechless, then smiled, then cheered. "Excellent then!" exclaimed Edward, turning his gaze toward Ty. "Give a good fight. You all have decent training, but it''s my job to enhance it and turn you lot into murder machines. Turn you into true knights¡ªthough some more than others." He glanced at Henryk.

    Henryk and Ty began their duel, wooden blades clashing with force. Henryk had never handled a sword, but he had strength and height. However, Ty seemed reluctant to hurt him, merely adequate with this sort of weapon.

    Ed glanced at Arthur. "I need you to help me work them out. Get them on regimens, find tutors to train us, or maybe we''ll get lucky. But the point still stands: these missions are going to test us."

    Arthur gave him a nod, and they watched as Ty''s blade slammed hard against Henryk''s body. Henryk spun and hit the floor. "Get up, get up, get up!" Isaac cheered. "You want to be a knight, you want honor and pride. Then get up and give us a good show!" He cried out with fervency.

    Ed continued, "I believe we can go to a private guild corp for our missions."

    Arthur scoffed, his voice a mixture of frustration and resignation. "We''ve been sending out to anything at this point, Ed. Even the private guild corps are denying us."

    Ed rolled his eyes, his attention divided between the conversation and the brutal training unfolding before them. "I''ve been around the city, and there''s a place I want to check out. It''s a privately owned establishment, and I know the owner."

    "Deimos Falconer," Ed exclaimed, a note of recognition in his voice.

    Arthur processed the information, his eyes widening in disbelief. "That old man still lives?" He turned to Ed. "I thought they got all the WarMasters."

    "Hung them all except for a couple," Ed replied. "He''s old, Arthur. I don''t know how, but he managed to have two daughters."

    Arthur shook his head, a sense of ancestral pride creeping into his tone. "The seed of Mars is strong. That''s why so many Plutonians bear the eyes of Damien. Speaking of which, how do you know so much about Deimos?"

    Ed sighed, his gaze returning to the duel between Henryk and Ty. "I was supposed to contact them, but I decided against it. The guy''s got two grown daughters, and he''s battling cancer, Arthur. His spikes... they''ve..."

    Arthur fell silent, his attention focused on the intense training session unfolding before them. Ty was improving with each moment, but so was Henryk. They watched as he adjusted his grip on the weapon, learning and mirroring Ty''s moves.

    "That will be the end of the male line of House Falconer," Arthur said wearily. "They''ve been a lineage steeped in honor and tradition. Now, he''s just an old man playing house before he dies?"

    Ed shook his head. "It''s not our choice, Arthur. He''s fought hard enough... long enough."

    Arthur sneered. "He''s a traitor coward. My father and brother... his true heirs, they kept fighting, and look at what happened. They met unsung deaths. Some heroes of the revolution believe they still draw breath as golden revenants, but I know the truth. We are not like other men."

    Ed''s tone turned stern. "I don''t like the way you and Isaac talk about this. We''re human. The blessings of the spikes make us stronger, yes, but we''re not inherently better or worse. Like Ty with his heightened senses, Henryk with his powers, we just have more access to becoming Knights. We''re not better."

    Arthur croaked out a bitter laugh. "And the emperor made us his hounddogs because we weren''t better. We fought the unsung and bloody battles, bore oaths to protect the realm. Our fathers, our brothers, all dead. Now, we''re all that remains. Centuries of honor, of legends, of songs praising slaying the alien, protecting the innocent, and now we bear a brand of shame."

    "Enough of this," Ed interrupted, his tone commanding. "Scramble everyone up and get Henryk to do firearm training."

    "What?" Henryk snapped back.

    "You''ve got guns in¡­" Arthur tossed him a rifle¡ªa slim training rifle.

    "Good. Well, you''re going to learn. Trust me, you''re going to have to point that rifle down at a seven-foot-tall lizard alien. Better to know now than get jammed up," Arthur spoke, and they watched as Ed took his leave. That marked the first day of the Sons of Mars training.

    Yet, in the back of Henryk''s mind, even as the days passed, even as his grip on his sword tightened, even as he worked out and ate, even as a week passed into his semester, he still had the eerie reminder of the peyton haunting the back of his psyche. Of the blood along its lips, and what it meant.

    Sometimes, in the dark, Henryk would think about those days. But that was when those days were old. He wondered if he could''ve gone back to those times, wondered what could''ve changed if they were more mature. The people that were killed, were maimed¡­had fates that kept him awake at night. Yet, it was the thousands. It was the thousands he had murdered by the bloody tip of his blade. But that would come soon. Very soon¡­

    Henryk could not recall killing anyone. However, that all changed when Edward of House Mars made a connection. And then they were in.

 Chapter 25 - Henryk the Music Major

    Chapter 25 - Henryk the Music Major - Start of ARC II

    Arc 2 - Precipice of Dark Wars

    <hr>

    "So, this is going to help me aim better?" Piper regarded.

    Each of the houses had their own personal hanger. Even House Uranus and Jupiter had theirs, hidden, but they had it. House Mercury''s Hanger was on the edges of the academy''s campus, needing one to go off afar on a stone pathway. A good ten-minute walk from their campus, five if running, which was mostly what they had to do if the carts were gone.

    From the outside, it looked like some dingy old-era hanger, more reminiscent of the great wars of old Earth. Inside, it was motley, but the equipment they utilized was modern. Rows upon rows of ceiling-borne Warcaskets filled the space. On one side was a massive wall containing their armaments. Within the lower levels, they also had an armory of sorts.

    Yet, Piper didn''t care about all that. The early September chill had set in, so while the glazing yellow light of the sun shone through the great ajar of the hanger doors, Piper stared through her opened cockpit at the beauty of nature.

    Ernest sighed, combing through greying black hair upon purple eyes at her. "It''s not that simple, Piper. The eye can only do so much¡­"

    "I''ve heard of Pilots being able to synch robotic limbs into their Warcasket," Piper interjected.

    Ernest sighed. "The machine can, yes, do a lot. But a machine is a machine, Piper. The more you give it control, the more you''ll end up relying on it."

    Piper paused at that, drawing her gaze towards the Warcaskets above them. "Would a sniper type fit me better, then?" She prodded. "Ernest, I can''t be here for too long. I''ve got a music period."

    "A music period?" Ernest chuckled loudly. "What are you doing behind an instrument?"

    Piper rolled her eyes. "It''s called registering for your classes late and being stuck with a class that you don''t like."

    Ernest shrugged, returning to the main conversation. "It''s more of a preference thing. You''ve seen the Sniper Type helmet, where? It''s not all just to zoom into a sniper scope or anything like that. It gives off a pretty good zoom and a good area scan, but to compensate for all that hardware, something''s got to be removed."

    Piper sighed in understanding. "So, the helmet is weaker?"

    Ernest chuckled. "No, Piper," he said, raising his hand towards the cameras. "If that camera gets hit hard, you lose all sight. It''s all in the front camera. Don''t get me wrong, it''s good hardware, but it''s a matter of preference. Marcus and Jeremiah..."

    He paused as their names were mentioned, even Piper''s shoulders slumping within the mech. "How are they doing? Heard anything new?" Ernest inquired.

    Piper''s sigh was heavy, audible. "We haven''t heard from them, and it''s been over a week since they''ve been gone."

    Ernest''s eyes widened. "Over a week? Why isn''t Zephyr doing anything about this?"

    Piper continued, her voice laden with concern. "Guild mission contracts for certain missions can last a while, and from what I understand, this is one of those missions. But, Ernest, I just... I don''t have a good feeling about this one."

    There was a moment of silence. Then Ernest asked, "How is Margaret doing?"

    Piper lifted her gaze to him, and Ernest continued with a small smirk. "We aren''t idiots, Piper. She isn''t the best at exactly hiding it."

    Piper sighed. "She only went to her Monday and Tuesday classes. She''s been in bed this whole time. She fears that he''s gotten hurt, or captured, or maybe... worse."

    Ernest''s eyes widened at the implications. "Pipes, Marcus is one of the most skilled pilots I''ve ever met. Heck, Eric is a bit rough around the edges, but those two always get the job done. Same for Todd and Jeremiah."

    "I know, but maybe if I was there," Piper mused, her voice heavy with regret.

    Ernest shook his head. "Piper, you can''t blame yourself," he insisted.

    Piper shot him a look. "Ernest, I understand what you''re saying, but how can I not blame myself? I am the ace, and while Marcus is good, he would''ve been the second pick and would''ve supported me. Who knows what my time at the hospital cost my house?"

    Ernest shook his head once again. "Piper, I understand your guilt, but, like I said, you can''t blame yourself. Things happen, and no one expects you to leap out of bed, jump into your mech, and soar into the stars after losing your eye. Piper, you need to ease up on yourself."

    Piper sneered, her finger tapping rhythmically along the console. "Ease up on myself," she repeated tenderly, shaking her head and shifting her gaze. "You still didn''t properly answer my question. Can you do it?"

    Ernest seemed lost. "Do what again?"

    Piper shot him a look, pointing at her face. "My eye, Ernest!" she exclaimed, louder than necessary. "Can you sync it to the Warcasket or something?"

    Ernest sighed under his breath. "I don''t know what you''re going to try, Piper, but try to utilize it within your scope," he explained.

    Piper sighed and glanced to her side. She activated her target finder, narrowing her left eye and peering through it solely with her right. "It looks exactly the same," she remarked.

    Ernest thought for a moment, then visibly shook his head. "What?" Piper asked, rising slowly.

    "Huh? What are you talking about?" Ernest replied.

    Piper smirked, leaning forward to peer at Ernest. "You had an idea... and then you shook your head. What was it?"

    Ernest stared at her. "Nothing," he replied curtly.

    "Nothing?" she echoed, sighing as she settled back into her chair. "That''s a real pity, Ernest. Because I think you''re very talented... and if you scratch my back, who knows, maybe I''ll scratch yours."

    Ernest shot her a look. "What do you mean by that?"

    Piper rolled her eyes. "Well, you''re on the first floor," she corrected. "I can get you onto the second floor. You''ll actually have a shower."

    "Communal or private?" Ernest inquired, pausing in front of the cockpit.

    Piper shot him a knowing look. "Ernest, this is Mercury, you know how it is."

    Ernest''s sigh was audible. "Fine, whatever." He drifted towards the edge of Piper''s warcasket. "What''s your opinion on Human and Warcasket connections?"

    Piper shot him a confused look. "I don''t understand."

    "Your ethics, do you believe humans and Warcaskets should bridge together? Human and machine?" Ernest''s voice held a weight, piercing the silence like a knife through fog.

    Piper pondered the question in silence before responding. "I know people have bionics and stuff, but are you talking about syncing prosthetics into a warcasket?"

    "No," Ernest replied, shaking his head. "I am talking about connecting the human brain to the machine, each becoming one."

    Piper''s eyes widened at the concept. Ernest pressed on. "I''ve heard that the Martians were a strange bunch; we''ve got a bunch of stories with them."

    "Really?" Piper''s tone betrayed her curiosity. "In the Midworlds, we don¡¯t hear much about them."

    Ernest paused, recalling tales of old. "Centuries ago, we gave the Martians a bunch of Venus Princesses. I don¡¯t remember why, but I''ve heard tales of what they did with their machines."

    "I keep hearing more and more talk about the Martians," Piper mused. "I get it that they weren¡¯t here the last couple of years, but they''re back... they were a recognized and honorable house."

    "A house with an equally dark history to it," Ernest interjected. "I¡¯ve heard rumors that the Martians uncovered ways for their pilots to better sync to their machines. But not in the way you''re thinking of, not mechanically, but rather biologically."

    Piper''s eyes widened at the revelation, drifting down to the clump of wires in Ernest''s clenched fist. "What are you going to do with that?" she prodded.

    Ernest turned to her, a determined glint in his eye. "You asked me before if I knew a way to connect you to your warcasket. This is the way, complete interface."

    Piper''s eyes widened further. "So, there is a way..."

    Ernest raised a cautionary finger. "Every way has a toll to pay, Piper. The human brain was never meant to connect to a Warcasket. We''ll test it out and put strain on the eye. I can maybe even figure out where this place or model came from. Zephyr got this for you, didn''t he?"

    Piper nodded slowly. "Do you know how to reset the bionic or...?" Ernest prodded.

    Piper let out an audible sigh of frustration. "I didn''t stick around long enough at the hospital to be taught."

    Ernest''s eyes widened at her admission. Piper shot him a pointed look. "I really hated being there, Ernest. I couldn''t bear to be there for them to show me my own damn reality."

    Ernest sighed, accepting her explanation. "Okay, fine," he said, pointing at his own eye. "Universally, all bionic eyes should have a port underneath the ocular lobe. Stretch your eyelid slightly, and we can insert it."

    Piper followed Ernest''s instructions obediently, allowing him to insert the wire into her eye, sliding it slightly to expose a small port. It was a strange sensation, but not uncomfortable, just odd. She watched as Ernest descended the steps, the lone blue wire trailing from her eye to the floor.

    As Ernest settled in front of his laptop, Piper couldn''t help but feel a bit awkward with the wire protruding from her eye. "So..." she began tentatively.

    "So," Ernest echoed, his attention focused on the screen.

    "Do you know anything about the eye or..." Piper trailed off, her curiosity piqued.

    Ernest''s eyes widened as he examined the data on the screen. "Holy shit," he muttered, showing Piper the laptop display. Though it appeared as a jumble of pixels and numbers from afar, Piper recognized the name: "Project Typhon?"

    "It''s a military unit," Ernest confirmed, his gaze fixed on the screen. "I can hardly get any real reads on its specs; it''s old, I can tell you that. However, this thing is strangely advanced for its time."

    He glanced back at Piper. "Where did Zephyr get this from?"

    Piper shrugged. "I assumed it came from the black market."

    Ernest chuckled. "A damn good find, let me tell you." He continued tapping away at his keyboard. "As I stated before, the mind wasn¡¯t meant to accommodate calculations on such a scale. However, you can... but there is a risk."

    "A risk?" Piper echoed, a note of concern creeping into her voice.

    "There is always a price for something," Ernest replied solemnly, his eyes fixed on the screen. "The more power you give the eye, the more pressing danger will be placed onto your brain."

    Piper''s eyes widened in alarm. "Wait," she interjected firmly. "Are you saying that if I put too much pressure on my brain, I¡¯ll die?"

    Ernest paused, meeting her gaze. "No, Piper, you won¡¯t die. First off, you''re going to start bleeding from your nose, and that¡¯s going to be the sign for you to chill and relax. Now, if you don¡¯t... that¡¯s when the seizures and tremors start to happen. In between, hallucinations, and I¡¯ve heard people lose it and go nuts from these. Then, if any of the others didn¡¯t kill you or your warcasket opponent didn¡¯t crush your cockpit... then you''ll die."

    Piper remained silent, her thoughts swirling like a tempest.

    Ernest let out a heavy groan as he closed his laptop and rose from his seat. "Looks like everything''s set up, and you''re synced up pretty good," he remarked, his tone tinged with exhaustion. "You wanna give it a try?"

    Piper hesitated, her mind grappling with the gravity of the situation. "You know, I was more eager before you told me that I may die from this," she finally responded, her voice laced with apprehension.

    Ernest sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You know that the Martians... that they view being sealed up in a machine as honorable?" he offered, his gaze distant.

    Piper''s eyes widened at the revelation. "Where did you hear that from?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued despite her unease.

    "My grandmother," Ernest replied solemnly, his expression haunted by memories. "She was on some campaign when the Knights of Mars were still around. Like the combat medic she was, she made her way across the battlefield as she saw it."

    "What did she see?" Piper pressed, sensing the weight of the story about to unfold.

    Ernest paused, a somber breath escaping him before he continued. "Some shell, or IED, or god knows what hit what my grandmother thought was a normal Warcasket... Instead, when she activated the emergency door to rescue and treat him, she found someone hooked up to wire upon wire, like a messy ocean of them."

    A chill ran down Piper''s spine as she absorbed the tale. Though stories were often treated with skepticism, there was a raw authenticity to Ernest''s delivery that resonated with her.

    "You were raised on a Midworld?" Ernest''s sudden question caught her off guard.

    "Yes, it was actually one of the first colonized after the invasion, Lehasa," Piper confirmed, her mind drifting back to her childhood.

    Ernest chuckled softly. "That''s a good planet history to have. There''s an honor in that, look at Uranus and the others," he remarked, a fleeting moment of levity slipping through the darkness that cloaked his features. But then his expression grew solemn once more. "The Martians come from a feudal world... When Humanity was cut off from each other, they had a schism."

    "A schism?" Piper echoed, her curiosity piqued anew by the cryptic mention.

    "They don¡¯t teach this stuff in Midworld classrooms," Ernest stated matter-of-factly, his gaze piercing.

    And Piper slowly nodded. ¡°We learn the histories of the universe, the birds and the bees, and mathematics and writing. It¡¯s nothing like a Venusian Royal Academy or some Neptune Private Boarding School. It¡¯s just very universal.¡±

    But Piper paused. ¡°But a schism? I¡¯ve never heard of that?¡±

    Ernest shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about it¡­ probably could find less in text or holorecords. However, Mars was not always a feudal world. Something happened that blasted them back into the past. For a culture to be thrown backwards in time, Piper, this wasn¡¯t a joke or anything. Their dialect, their culture, even simple things like names¡­ they regressed. Imagine being born on Mars, Piper? Due to these feudal worlds, you may not have been allowed to go to school, heck, the majority probably were not allowed to go. Farming, the army, but I will say this, one thing about the Martians¡­ everything regressed, except their weapons and machines of war.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That is why I believe in what my grandmother says,¡± he said. ¡°She said it was some old man, wearing old-looking armor. She stated that he had wires coming out of his eyes and some had even ingrained into his flesh and functioned as veins where veins were not. She told me that the man was very cold, but he did not feel fear for his fate¡­ instead he embraced it, for their king.¡±

    Piper was stunned by the story, completely and utterly. She took a deep breath as she tried to level herself.

    ¡°Why do you care so much about House Mars?¡± asked Ernest, then awareness set upon him. ¡°Henryk, that wizard boy, I¡¯ve heard that he was the reason that you¡­¡±

    And he glanced up at Piper with widened eyes. ¡°Sorry, Pipes,¡± he quickly rushed out.

    ¡°It¡¯s no bother, Ernest,¡± Piper stated plainly. ¡°Things happen, and me and Henryk are fine.¡±

    ¡°Fine?¡± repeated Ernest. ¡°So, there is no bad blood? You aren¡¯t angry over the loss of your eye?¡±

    Piper¡¯s sigh was heavy and audible. ¡°I should¡¯ve worn my helmet,¡± she bluntly replied. ¡°A duel is a duel, and ours was a scrimmage. I doubt Henryk meant to hurt me, so, what¡¯s the point of me bearing a grudge?¡±

    Ernest tossed her a look, but then he sighed. ¡°That¡¯s very mature of you, Piper,¡± he replied. ¡°I wish more people here held your sentiment. Maybe, the galaxy wouldn¡¯t be such a bleak place if people didn¡¯t wish to hurt each other so much or even out scores.¡±

    Piper tried to wave it off, but her own feelings about Henryk lingered beneath the surface, evident in the subtle shifts of her expression. Her sigh carried the weight of unspoken thoughts. ¡°Let¡¯s get this eye going,¡± she stated, her voice a blend of determination and apprehension.

    Relaxing into her seat, Piper took a deep breath, her eyes still closed. ¡°Is there something I have to do?¡± she inquired.

    Ernest shrugged, a gesture laden with uncertainty. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly know.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t exactly know,¡± Piper echoed, a hint of teasing in her tone. ¡°Got any hints?¡± she prodded, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

    Ernest sighed in frustration. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s vocal, state a core phrase or word¡­¡± he trailed off.

    ¡°What is one?¡± Piper interjected.

    Ernest groaned, his patience waning. ¡°Do you really not know anything about this?¡± He sighed heavily. ¡°Fine, try and state: Initiate.¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Taking another deep breath, Piper steadied herself. ¡°Where did you learn that one?¡± she quipped.

    ¡°The corporations don¡¯t like one another, but simplicity is one of the core tenets to great products,¡± Ernest explained.

    With a mixture of uncertainty and determination, Piper reached for the reins of her controls. ¡°Good then¡­ initiate,¡± she said, the word leaving her lips with a hint of doubt. But as Piper¡¯s eyes opened, she saw.

    She chuckled softly, and Ernest turned to her, concern etched on his face.

    ¡°Is everything all right¡­ Piper!¡± he exclaimed.

    Piper¡¯s chuckle persisted, accompanied by a close-lipped smile. She turned to Ernest, her grey and green eyes emanating a proud and piercing light.

    ¡°Everything is just rad, Ernest,¡± she reassured him, her smile widening as a lone red strand of blood trickled from her left nostril down to the bridge of her mouth.

    On the other side of campus, in the large backyard of House Mars, Henryk¡¯s eyes surveyed the surroundings before him. A week into the semester, and he remained dedicated to his studies and practice.

    Near the deck door, a table was set up, surrounded by Arthur and Joseph. Books, parchment, and a few datararecords littered the worn patio table. Henryk observed the steady flow of the nearby river, winding its way through the bend in the woods.

    During his week of classes, Henryk, along with Ed and the others, dedicated themselves to repairing the fences that bordered the property. Now, the area was encased in chain-linked barriers, save for the remnants of an old dock.

    Down a slight descent from them, Isaac and Axel were engrossed in the task at hand. The air buzzed with the sound of belts being secured onto their bodies.

    "Sick of your target practice," Axel remarked, his voice tinged with fatigue.

    Isaac returned a weary smile, rotating his right shoulder. His gaze shifted towards the battered targeting dummy, now propped up by makeshift supports.

    "Yeah," Isaac admitted, his breaths labored. "That recoil''s a real kicker, but this gun packs a punch. Like any other, you just gotta get used to it."

    Henryk observed Isaac''s weapon with curiosity. It was unlike any he had seen before, its design unfamiliar and its caliber unknown. The rifle was bulky and stockless, with blocky features and vents along the barrel. Each shot resonated with a heavy, thunderous boom, its weight palpable even from a distance.

    Axel nodded in agreement, retrieving another wooden sword from behind him and tossing it to Isaac.

    "That''s ironic, Soldier," Arthur interjected, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Our forefathers probably spent hours training, enduring bone-rattling recoil."

    He gestured towards the training area with a sweeping motion. "I''ve heard tales of Martian Knights becoming so accustomed to the recoil that they could fire one-handed."

    Isaac scoffed at the notion. "It''d be a real challenge, but not entirely impossible," he mused.

    Joseph intervened, directing their attention to the pile of books before them. "What planet is this, Arthur?" he inquired, his tone indicating impatience.

    Arthur furrowed his brow, scanning the pages intently. After a moment of contemplation, he shook his head slowly.

    "You don''t know this?" Henryk interjected, surprised by Arthur''s lack of knowledge.

    Joseph shot him a stern look. "There are many things you don''t know, Henryk. It''s merely a matter of circumstance," he remarked evenly.

    "It''s the core worlds," Henryk interjected, still taken aback. "I thought everyone knew about the empire and¡ª"

    "Of course, everyone knows of the empire," Arthur replied, his tone tinged with a hint of exasperation.

    "Then..." Henryk trailed off, seeking further clarification.

    "Henryk, Arthur was raised on a feudal world. Do you understand what that means?" Joseph interjected, his voice carrying a weight of authority.

    Arthur turned towards Joseph, awaiting his response. Henryk shrugged, but remained attentive, sensing he was about to receive an enlightening explanation.

    "It''s like being stuck in the medieval ages, right?" Henryk ventured, attempting to grasp the concept.

    "Close," Joseph acknowledged, his demeanor indicating he was prepared to elaborate. He directed his attention to Arthur, gesturing with a sweeping motion.

    "A feudal world is a place destined to remain entrenched in a medieval era indefinitely. While the empire occasionally selects extraordinary individuals for advancement, the majority of the populace is condemned to a life devoid of progress or innovation. Kings, queens, lords, and barons govern, but technological advancements are scarce. Order is maintained primarily by geographical borders, with little influence from external sources. However, there are exceptions," Joseph explained, his words carrying a weight of authority.

    "Mars was one such exception," Arthur interjected. "During the Great War, our King decreed the destruction of electronics and other modern technologies to prevent the mistakes of the past from recurring. We complied, except for certain sacred machines."

    "Sacred machines?" Henryk echoed, his interest piqued.

    "Yes," Arthur confirmed with a nod. "Gun presses, WarCasket parts, weaponry, and vehicles held a special significance. We Martians have always valued our weapons."

    Arthur concluded with a smile, prompting Henryk to mutter to himself, "I see that."

    "But how did you manage to produce such items?" Henryk inquired, seeking to understand the logistics given the apparent technological limitations of a feudal society.

    Arthur shrugged, his smile unwavering. "The old way."

    "The old way?" Henryk repeated, seeking further clarification.

    "Hoe, axe, and scythe," Joseph interjected, directing a pointed gaze between the two young men. "That was the Martian way¡ªa feudal world governed by certain expectations."

    In that moment, Henryk comprehended. Certain expectations dictated the lives of Martians, restricting their access to modern conveniences and confining them within the boundaries of their medieval existence. Despite possessing advanced weaponry and technology, the average Martian remained oblivious to the outside world, tethered to tradition and isolated from progress.

    "Feudal medieval Europe," Henryk quipped, his words dripping with sarcasm as he cast a wry glance at the Martians. "With Space Knights."

    Joseph nodded slowly, his expression grave as he handed Henryk a book. "You''re the last one to speak, countryman," he joked, his tone laced with a hint of seriousness. "Focus on your studies. Heck, you''re struggling with the basics."

    Henryk let out an audible sigh of frustration. "I''ve never been good at math or reading," he admitted with a shrug.

    "But piloting a WarCasket involves plenty of mathematics," Arthur chimed in. "Ever thought about applying that to your studies?"

    "Thanks for the tip, Arthur," Henryk retorted sarcastically, shaking his head. As he gazed down the river, anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, stirring up memories best left buried.

    "You''re going to have to take at least one per semester," Joseph reminded him sternly. "Those credits are essential for graduation."

    "What''s your goal here, Henryk?" Arthur interjected, pointing to himself. "I''m here for economics." He tested the word on his tongue, a hint of pride in his voice.

    "Economics?" Joseph chuckled. "And what do you plan to do with that?"

    "Help out my town''s farm," Arthur replied matter-of-factly. "We''re allowed to return during certain periods, so maybe I''ll put my newfound knowledge to good use."

    "That''s your reason for being here?" Henryk questioned incredulously. "Just to manage your town''s food funds?"

    Arthur chuckled, his gaze locking onto Henryk''s. "Heck no," he declared, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I''m here for the missions, for the honor it brings, Henryk."

    Henryk furrowed his brow in confusion, prompting Arthur to elaborate. "The major is just a side gig, Henryk. The real deal is the piloting, the engineering, the combat experience against formidable foes. If we survive and play our cards right, we can turn our futures into gold."

    Joseph nodded in agreement, fixing Henryk with a meaningful look. "Even you..."

    "Me?" Henryk replied, his voice tinged with disbelief as he chuckled. "I''m a nobody."

    Arthur chuckled in response. "You''ve got people eyeing you because you survived that mission. Not bad for a nobody. You''re a pilot and a wizard, Henryk. That''s something to be proud of."

    Henryk was taken aback by the unexpected praise. "Thanks, Arthur. But being a pilot is respected, being a wizard... not so much."

    Arthur laughed heartily. "Well, Henryk, you''re welcome to visit my world anytime. Princesses and beauties of the lake would throw themselves at you."

    But Henryk''s attention had already drifted back to the river before them. "Let''s keep going. Rapid fire round," Joseph interjected, holding out a book to Henryk. "What sector is this?"

    Henryk glanced at the blank page. "It''s blank, just constellations. How am I supposed to read this?"

    "Look at the stars," Joseph replied bluntly. "You can do this. Martian squires younger than you are taught to search the stars. The stars hold all the answers."

    Henryk sneered, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he stared at the parchment before him. But then, without a word, he pushed himself away from the table, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the room before Joseph could even react.

    "I don''t know what got into him," Joseph muttered, perplexed.

    "The shits?" Arthur suggested, a hint of amusement in his voice.

    Joseph chuckled despite himself. "No, Arthur. He just up and left."

    As the front door slammed shut in the distance, Joseph shook his head in bewilderment. "That boy..."

    Arthur exchanged a glance with Joseph, sensing the underlying tension. "I don''t have a problem with Henryk or him being here, but I have to wonder... what does Edward see in him?"

    And Arthur chuckled, his eyes fixed on the map before him. "The Callisto sector," he murmured, tracing the lines with his finger. "So, that''s what''s been troubling you, Henryk."

    "What do you mean?" Joseph inquired, leaning in.

    Arthur continued, his gaze still locked on the map. "I''ve heard Henryk had a rough week at school."

    Joseph sighed, a touch of concern in his voice. "It''s his first week away from home. He''ll adjust."

    But Arthur remained focused, his brow furrowed. "I don''t think it''s homesickness," he mused.

    Joseph turned to him, curiosity piqued. "What are you suggesting?"

    With a shrug, Arthur began his tale. "Back in my village, there was a lad much like Henryk. He came from nobility, so it was my job to mentor him. Polite, talented with music and a blade, but he couldn''t read."

    Joseph listened intently. "It''s not uncommon for those from feudal worlds to lack education," he interjected.

    But Arthur cut him off. "No, Joseph. His father hired tutor after tutor from the age of five, but nothing took. The doctors said there was something wrong with his mind, that the words just didn''t..."

    Arthur trailed off, his eyes drifting back to the map. "I''m just saying, the way Henryk acted just now... it reminded me of that boy and how frustrated he''d get with his studies."

    Joseph glanced toward the front door, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Henryk, meanwhile, was on the move. Unfamiliar with the campus and everyone in House Mars occupied, he wandered aimlessly. As he walked, he watched the jets and spaceships streak across the horizon, the sounds of the Academy bustling around him. Yet, he continued to walk, his gaze fixed on the campus buildings as the orange sun dipped behind the mountains.

    He treaded the familiar path toward the dining hall where he once shared meals with Mags and Jose, memories that now felt like distant echoes. Running from Neptune and Venus, clashing with Piper, and his induction into House Mars¡ªall of it seemed surreal, like fragments of a fever dream.

    As he wandered, the stars winked above, painting the night sky with their ethereal glow. The crescent moon cast a pale light, illuminating his solitary journey. His thoughts drifted homeward, to Diannie, Jennie, his mother, and the colony he left behind. His father''s people. And where was he now?

    Henryk had thought the academy was a bastion of military discipline, but the reality of his peers'' unprofessionalism and the hidden horrors lurking within its walls left him feeling disheartened and afraid. Yet, he pushed back the longing for his family, a feat of sheer willpower. Thoughts of his mother''s cooking clashed with the memory of the academy''s unpalatable fare, though House Mars had improved the culinary situation, thanks to Arthur''s influence.

    But his mind couldn''t escape the battles, the betrayals, and the prejudice he encountered. Raised in the frontier, he had concealed his magical abilities, but here they were laid bare. Initially, they served him against Piper, but now... now they posed a different kind of threat.

    Henryk roamed the academy''s woods, revisiting the spots where House Mars had rescued him and where Logan had nearly ended him. He retraced the path of the tram shuttle, revisited the library, and circled back to the dorms, from Pluto to Mars to Mercury, even venturing into those he''d never set foot in before.

    He walked until he reached the strange stone walls of Uranus, his steps driven by a morbid curiosity that clashed with his instincts. Against his better judgment, he even approached House Jupiter, where the witches resided.

    The looming black tower of House Jupiter rose before him, its spiky fence barring entry. Henryk pressed his arms against the cold bars, peering through the windows. And there, amidst the darkness, he saw her: a figure with wild, messy hair and gleaming green eyes, clad in undergarments with a toothbrush between her lips. The invader from his dreams.

    He pushed himself away from the fence, propelled by a surge of anger that rippled through him like an electric current. The crowd roared around him, indifferent to his turmoil. They didn''t see him, not really¡ªjust the uniform he wore, the insignia of House Mars branded on his chest, a double dose of shame etched into his right arm.

    Henryk stormed into a lecture hall, his breath ragged as he leaned against a row of lockers, the cool metal offering a temporary respite. With a primal growl, his fist collided with the locker, a sharp pain shooting through him. Martian training or the bruises from initiation week¡ªwhat did it matter? He wanted to hit something again, to release the pent-up fury boiling within him.

    As he stalked past the lockers, his thoughts turned to his family. Jennie''s laughter, his mother''s gentle touch, Diania''s comforting presence¡ªthese memories flickered in his mind like ghostly apparitions. "All for my family," he muttered to himself, his voice raw with emotion. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he recalled his mother''s patience, teaching him to read when others had failed.

    But they were gone now, his family torn from him by the cruel hand of fate. Alone in this unfamiliar world, he grappled with the weight of their absence, the ache of their loss gnawing at his soul. Would he ever be the same Henryk again, or had the academy irreparably changed him?

    He kept his mutation hidden, a secret shared only with Tyson. In his world, mutants were feared, their potential suppressed by imperial decree. They could have been like Mars, held back by outside forces, their culture stifled in the name of conformity. But there was power in their uniqueness, in their defiance against the empire''s iron grip.

    Axel''s lesson echoed in his mind, the wisdom of a fellow warrior who saw through the veneer of authority. Fighting for honor, for pride, for the right to exist on their own terms¡ªmaybe there was something noble in that after all.

    With a newfound resolve, Henryk squared his shoulders, his gaze piercing the darkness of the lecture hall. If the core world bastards wanted a fight, they would get one. And House Mars would give it to them with everything they had, and then some.

    Yet, amidst his turmoil, Henryk''s mind inevitably drifted to Piper. A pang of regret shot through him, an ache in his chest as he grappled with memories he wished to bury. Deeper still, a primal feeling stirred, a sickening guilt that coiled within his soul like a serpent. He could almost feel the weight of his father''s presence, the phantom touch of bandages that once held him tight. "Son," whispered a voice from the depths of his memory, a voice he hadn''t heard in so long. For a fleeting moment, Henryk wept for the father he never truly knew, for the legacy that haunted him like a curse.

    "Family!" His voice shattered the silence, reverberating through the empty hall with a force that seemed to electrify the air. Hate, anger, guilt¡ªall swirling together in a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him.

    Jace, Hannah, Logan, Jose¡ªthe names echoed in his mind, a litany of doubt and distrust. Who could he truly trust in this den of deception and betrayal?

    A primal roar erupted from Henryk as his fist collided with the locker, the metal groaning in protest under the force of his rage. Lockers buckled and dented, a testament to the raw power of his fury. His hair whipped back, clearing his vision as realization dawned upon him.

    "Holy shit, holy fuck!" His panic-stricken voice pierced the air, frantic thoughts racing as he scanned the room for security cameras. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, they''re going to expel me for this!" With a surge of adrenaline, he bolted, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, the dense foliage swallowing him whole.

    Meanwhile, outside in Academy City, Arthur stood amidst the fading light of day, his uniform stained with blood of varying hues. Boss Domerick''s voice cut through the air, drawing his attention.

    "Yo, Arthur!" Domerick''s gruff voice echoed across the courtyard.

    Arthur nodded in acknowledgment, his mind still reeling from the day''s events. "Sorry, Boss Domerick," he replied, his tone weighted with exhaustion.

    Domerick''s gaze flickered over Arthur''s blood-splattered uniform, a grimace crossing his face. "That''s a lot of blood," he remarked, his tone tinged with concern.

    Arthur shrugged, his weariness palpable. "Didn''t realize the Gazorpeen had so much blood in its¡ª"

    "Never mind," Domerick interjected, his attention diverted by the setting sun. "Listen, you''re going to the academy, right? Good shit, kid. We''ll cut your training short for today. Can you come tomorrow?"

    Arthur hesitated, his thoughts already drifting to the tasks awaiting him. "Sorry, I''ve got class and I''ve got to help fix up me and my housemates'' dorm."

    His boss chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You guys are trying to fix up your own dorm?"

    Arthur nodded, his expression darkening with the weight of their conversation. "Yeah, it¡¯s a mess. People came in and trashed the hell out of it. They tatted the place up too, and everything. Traitors, dogs, and weak," he muttered, a hint of bitterness seeping into his words. "They even had tats talking about Pluto."

    His boss''s brow furrowed, a shadow passing over his features. "Arthur, I know very little of the Martians. However, I know that the scourge of Pluto was¡­complicated."

    Arthur sighed heavily, the burden of history weighing heavily upon him. "The known galaxy may not understand how we''ve shamed him, how we''ve struck his name throughout history," he mused, his gaze lifting to meet his boss''s. "Yet, Damien of Pluto still remains¡­"

    As they discussed his scheduling, his boss glanced towards the approaching group of young men, their uniforms marking them as fellow Martians. "You need a ride or anything?" he offered.

    Arthur shook his head, a wry smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Nah, we''re alright."

    With a wave, they parted ways, and Arthur found himself walking alongside Joseph down the empty street. August and Isaac joined them, the topic quickly shifting to the new recruits.

    "So, how is everyone feeling about the recruits?" Isaac inquired, leading the conversation.

    Joseph offered a noncommittal shrug. "Henryk seems to be a good pick¡­"

    "Henryk, Henryk, Henryk, we¡¯ve been talking a whole lot about Henryk," Arthur interjected bluntly, his tone tinged with frustration.

    August chimed in, voicing a sentiment shared by many. "Have you forgotten about the other squires?"

    The group exchanged weary glances, acknowledging the validity of August''s point. Isaac spoke up, voicing his concerns. "Is it really that bad though? I know what Ed is doing, trying to fill up the roster."

    Joseph''s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "Listen, I know that this is different¡­but we''ve got to think about our sizes."

    "Do you condone this?" Isaac challenged, his tone sharp. "They''re rookies, some of these guys never shot a gun, they''re green as fucking grass. You toss a rifle into their hands and toss them at a Grimgore, they''ll shit themselves."

    Joseph held his ground, his voice firm. "¡­and you''d want us to have no auxiliary. Henryk is talented, but he''s never been tested like how the majority of us have," he countered, gesturing to the group. "Say what you will, but everyone here is talented. We are lucky to have so many fighters¡­and maybe, Henryk and the others may join our ranks."

    Isaac''s eyes widened. "You wish to allow more than one into the Executor position."

    Arthur snorted. "That''s assuming if they all live long enough, don¡¯t forget. This has been happening for years, and there have been many initiates, but only a couple passed. Even great Martian Veterans failed in the type of missions we were solely allowed to go into."

    Isaac let out a heavy sigh. "Damn it, the guild paid us so much money. They wanted us to destroy a great space worm, we''d blow that fucker to high hell." He chuckled darkly.

    Arthur pressed on. "Henryk is strong, no doubt. But does he have the mental grit, the physical strength, and the ability to bear the weight?"

    "What weight?" inquired August.

    Arthur''s gaze shifted to the stars above. "What are we¡­," His eyes flashed with a profound sadness. "What were we meant to become."

    It was August who stumbled for an answer. "K-Knights of Mars."

    Arthur continued, his voice tinged with reflection. "Who else was it to bear the mantle? To hold off the dark¡­it was our privilege, the reason why we were blessed with these abilities. We face darkness more than ever after the destruction. But maybe scattered remnants could piece something together¡­anew."

    Joseph''s hand rested on Arthur''s shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "I can get behind that, Knight."

    A soft smile played on Arthur''s lips.

    Meanwhile, Henryk burst into a brightly lit building, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He stumbled through the door, his eyes scanning the familiar but somehow altered surroundings. The halls stretched wider before him, casting long shadows as he navigated uncertain steps.

    Outside, darkness had fallen, and with it, a sense of calm settled over him. He pressed his hands to his face, willing himself to keep moving, to put one foot in front of the other, no matter what.

    Then, he stumbled upon it. "A piano¡­," he murmured, a wistful chuckle escaping his lips.

    Taking in the dimly lit grandeur of the theater around him, Henryk found himself drawn onto the stage, the empty seats watching in silent anticipation.

    "Hello," he murmured softly, his voice a mere whisper in the empty room. He left the door ajar, unwilling to call for help and risk the embarrassment of being rescued from his own impulsive outburst. Three dented lockers bore testament to his frustration, a silent plea for forgiveness from the unforgiving school authorities.

    But the piano beckoned, its ivory and black keys a siren song in the dimness of the theater. "Now, this is a real piano," he mused, a wide smile gracing his lips. He settled onto the bench, cracking his neck and flexing his joints with practiced ease.

    With a soft hum, he began to play. The melody started gently, his fingers dancing across the keys, conjuring memories of pine-scented woods and distant howls. But as the music swelled, so did his emotions, and he found himself swept up in a tempest of sound.

    Wolves chased through the notes, their phantom forms flickering in his mind''s eye. Switching to a more aggressive tune, his heart pounded in time with the rhythm, his fingers flying across the keyboard with an intensity born of raw emotion. Then, as the crescendo peaked, he saw her.

    Not Piper, not yet. First, there was messy hair and wide eyes, a sight that caught him off guard, leaving him momentarily stunned. But there was no time for questions, no pause for explanations. Piper''s voice shattered the spell, her praise ringing loud in the silence of the room.

    "Henryk, that was amazing!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Henryk blinked, suddenly aware of the notebooks scattered at their feet.

    Was she... into him?

    As she grabbed his arm, her enthusiasm infectious, he offered a modest explanation. "My mama taught me the basics, but wandering travelers filled in the gaps along the way," he said with a modest shrug. "It''s really nothing special."

    But Piper wouldn''t hear of it. Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she insisted, "No, Henryk. That was amazing. You have a gift!"

    He waved off her praise, but Piper remained steadfast in her awe. The piece he had played, she insisted, was nothing short of magnificent. And as he looked up at her from the piano bench, he couldn''t help but wonder if perhaps she was right.

    She swiped a hand through a lock of hair, and even Henryk felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Honestly, Pipes, dumb stuff like that is all I know... nothing serious here at the academy. Heck, the feudal world people here are able to do complicated mathematics!"

    Piper stared down at him, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe you should try to find something more... musical, Henryk. Everyone has their pros and cons. Maybe you aren''t designed to be part of this system. And that''s okay."

    Henryk glanced down. "I know people liked my music back home. I''m good with my fingers, piano and guitar," he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

    Her cheeks quickly reddened, and Henryk realized the implications of what he''d just said. "Wait, I didn''t mean it like..."

    But Piper was already laughing heartily. "You really are something else, Henryk."

    Henryk returned her gaze, his smile faltering. "...and that''s not the only thing I should be apologizing for. I''m sorry, Piper. Your eye and..."

    "Hush about that," she retorted. "It''s my own damned fault," she snorted, wiping her nose. "It is what it is... wanted to feel the wind on my face, now I''m going to see the skies through one real and the other grey."

    Henryk fell silent, but Piper''s smirk sparked a response. "Don''t think you''re going to get away from me."

    Henryk looked back up at her. "What do you..."

    "I''m going to beat you in a duel one day, Henryk Brown!" she declared triumphantly.

    Henryk met her smile with one of his own. "I''d like to see you try."

    "Bet on it," she shot back.

    Henryk narrowed his eyes, a proud smirk curling his lips as he placed a hand over his chest, his words ringing with confidence. "Only I can fly high enough."

 Chapter 26 - The Jumping of an Mutant - End of ARC 1

    ¡°Momma wouldn¡¯t buy a word of it if I spilled about House Mars. The characters I''ve come to know, to endure. Vin, the medic¡ªor as Ed dubbed him, the Hospitaler. Isaac, our flyboy and wrench jockey. Arthur, straight out of a fairy tale. Joseph, another frontier soul. And August, or Fleeboy as I''ve been warned never to call him. First week of classes was a bore, no doubt. As for a major, well, that''s a bridge to cross when I''m damn well ready. Maybe I''ll bring it up with Eddy. Classes themselves? A breeze. But it''s like spitting in the wind. People, they don''t want to see me. Used to think it was the emperor''s thumb pressing down. Turns out, it''s just the same old judging gaze they''d throw at someone from another house. Ridiculous, really. Uniform colors dictating our pals and lovers? Joseph reckons it won''t stop him from chasing after what he calls "a big girl" from Mercury. Ed''s warning about steering clear of Mags and Jose, well, I''ll happily take a rain check on being his buddy. But I''ll be damned if I don''t keep it polite with Mags. Momma didn''t raise me to make needless enemies. Been putting on my best show of getting along with the lot of ''em, but... there''s this itch in my gut. Like they''re hoarding secrets. Hear it in the way they chatter when the talk takes a twist. The gestures, the glances they trade among themselves. Do they see me as some greenhorn? Not one of their own? Is all of Ed''s talk about teamwork and brotherhood just hogwash? Swear I glimpsed something last night, grabbing a swig from the kitchen. Maybe it was just my eyes pulling tricks on me. Like someone darting out of sight. A stark reminder of my ignorance, and the stark truth of how truly alone I am here. Miss you, Momma.¡± ¨C The Journal of Henryk J. Brown, Red Templar of Mars.

    <hr>

    "You wanted a word, spill it, princess. I''ve got places to be." Eliza of House Venus stood amidst the trees. Midday at the academy, classes done for the day. But here she was, dragged into the woods by Hannah, Jace''s younger sister.

    They ventured beyond the bounds of House territory, finding refuge in a serene nook nestled amidst the woods. Towering oaks enveloped them, save for a majestic waterfall cascading into a tranquil lake, its tendrils meandering through various corners of the campus.

    Hannah reclined against a tree, her ebony locks gathered in a modest ponytail. The princess of Jupiter wore a slight pout, her purple gaze meeting another pair of equally vibrant eyes.

    A heavy sigh escaped Hannah''s lips. "Jace, my brother. I need to talk about him."

    Eliza''s eyes widened, a complex smirk dancing upon her lips. "Realized your brother''s a few sandwiches short of a picnic, huh?"

    Rolling her eyes, Hannah continued, "Jace has always been a puzzle... I''m two years his junior. Our mother passed when we were kids, illness snatching her away. Dad took off after that, and Jace... he was never the same."

    Eliza''s smirk faded, replaced by a somber expression. This was more than casual banter.

    "Elizabeth," Hannah addressed her by her full name. "Where do your loyalties lie? With Venus... or your coven?"

    Eliza''s eyes widened. "What kind of question is that?" She sighed, shrugging. "Is it the imperial stigma blinding you?"

    "What are you talking about?" Hannah asked, confused.

    "We''re not a pack of mutts," Eliza retorted, pausing for emphasis. "Sure, I''ve got my own interests... we all do. But my loyalty lies with my planet, not Jupiter."

    Hannah shrugged. "Wizards and witches of Venus... born and bred there. Must''ve been a tough gig growing up."

    Eliza let out a derisive snort. "Beats being raised in one of those tubes back on Jupiter," she muttered to herself, her scoff morphing into a glare. "What''s your game, Hannah? Trying to cozy up to me or something?"

    Hannah''s gaze dropped. "Jace met this girl before the party... and I know how he was back on Venus." She chuckled bitterly. "The Royal Prince, sent packing for playing the rake at court."

    "Sounds like your brother needs a reality check," Eliza remarked bluntly. "What he was trying to pull with Sirine was..."

    Hannah fell silent. "He''s the prince, and princes can do as they damn well please." Just as Eliza bristled, Hannah hurried on. "That''s his creed."

    Eliza was left speechless.

    Hannah pressed on. "Jace is next in line for the throne of Venus. He''ll rule over countless worlds, pilot the ARC of Venus, and his descendants will bask in the glory of the Emperor''s ARC spanning the stars once more. That''s his birthright. Maybe if he hadn''t been born into such luxury, if he''d come up in the academy''s dark days... perhaps then his life might''ve forged him, tempered him in the flames to become a king. But Jace''s comfort bred indulgence, greed, and lust. I fear the last one... that''s where he''s stumbled into his greatest trap."

    Eliza''s eyes widened, the whites showing. "What do you mean, Hannah?" she demanded.

    Sweat beaded on Eliza''s brow. He was the heir, the sole male. Venusian succession was a mess, and if Jace had been ensnared, God help them all when the political fallout hit.

    "Where is he now?" Eliza asked, her tone sharp.

    Hannah blurted out, "He''s in his room. Elizabeth, he''s holding up... for now. But about a week back, at the party! Just before it all went down, I swung by his digs and found this girl crashed there... didn''t think much of it, you know, my brother''s always been a bit of a playboy back at the manor. But then a couple days ago..."

    She paused, fear flooding her eyes. "She was decked out in Jupiter colors."

    Elizabeth''s eyes widened. "Witches are bound by celibacy, Hannah. Until they prove their gene superiority, they ain''t supposed to be breeding."

    Hannah''s expression soured. "Why put it like that... makes ''em sound..."

    "Like beasts?" Elizabeth scoffed. "That''s the only word to describe their lot. Savage, tech-obsessed witches fixated on history and past glories. They built their order by snatching up magic-gifted little girls, molding them into killers... and when those killers offed their captors, the cycle started anew."

    Hannah''s resolve hardened. "Didn''t Emperor Akkadian IV slap them down? I heard rumors they..."

    "Don''t be naive, princess," spat Eliza. "Magic started with the ladies, then passed to their male kin, and back again post-cataclysm. Magic''s clonable... frowned upon, sure, but if you''re sneaky about it..."

    Hannah fell silent. "So, they''re breaking the Imperial Abhorrants?" she realized. "Cloning''s forbidden."

    "...and yet that witch took a vow and still bedded your brother. Depends on your viewpoint how much oaths matter," Elizabeth lectured.

    Hannah''s anger flickered but she pushed it down. There were bigger fish to fry. "I''ve heard tales about what witches can do," she rambled. "With blood, with hair, with... seed."

    "A king''s seed holds power," Elizabeth confirmed. "Your brother dug his own grave. Their souls are still entwined, and that witch, seed or no, will have some magical leash on him. Right now, they''re likely concocting a potion or spell... royal blood''s potent stuff."

    "He''s a prince," Hannah murmured.

    Eliza snorted, brushing off the remark entirely. "...we need to start brainstorming spells to shield Jace from their influence. Problem is, we''re in the dark about how strong it is... or what brand of magic they''ll throw our way."

    Hannah hesitated. "Will he... will he be alright?"

    Eliza shrugged, her weariness betraying her fa?ade. "Hannah, your brother''s in a tight spot. Out of all the folks on campus... he had to go and fall for one of them, like a damn fool, and give her his seed!"

    Hannah nodded grimly. "I know it''s foolish... if that witch gets pregnant," her breath caught. "That''s a succession nightmare waiting to happen. Venus might tolerate bastards, but Father would never accept impure blood spawned by a witch. He wants Jace to marry a proper lady. If this came out, or his..."

    "Wait," Eliza interjected. "I thought he got booted from court for his antics."

    Hannah paused. "Father shipped him off to avoid the fallout from his actions."

    "Ahh, now I get it," Eliza mused. "Jace, he thinks he''s untouchable, consequences be damned."

    Hannah fell silent. "Your brother''s a monster," Eliza spat.

    Hannah shot her a glare. "Shut it," she snapped. "You don''t know him like I do. He''s looked after me for years, been a father when mine wasn''t around, fed me, wiped away my tears. That''s my Jace, and I won''t give up on him."

    Eliza huffed, her gaze dropping. Jace and Hannah were kin, and she had to remember that. She had her own folks back home, and for a moment she wondered... could she stand as strong as Hannah if someone she loved started slipping away?

    "Fine then, count me in," Eliza declared, and Hannah''s face lit up like a Christmas tree. "I owe your house my allegiance, and to the thr..."

    "Thank you, thank you so much," Hannah choked out, tears streaming as she pulled Eliza into an embrace.

    Eliza''s hands hovered awkwardly for a moment before tentatively patting the girl''s back. "I couldn''t tell anyone," Hannah confessed between sobs. "Father would''ve flipped, Jace would''ve brushed it off, and I worry about Maxtn and the others. Many in the house are still sore about how Maxtn lost his position."

    Eliza sighed heavily. "Hannah, you can''t pin that on anyone but yourselves. Maxtn''s led us brilliantly for years! Tactical genius, knows how to play people to their strengths. Since he joined, House Mercury''s been able to go toe-to-toe with Mars. Venus is shifting, people are just starting to realize the difference."

    "What difference?" Hannah demanded.

    "The difference between a great leader... and one born to rule by divine right," Eliza explained.

    Hannah turned to her, wiping away tears with a newfound grin. "You''re right about that. Jace might not make a good leader... maybe he won''t be a good king. But I do know one thing,"

    She paused, raising her hand to the sky. "Maxtn might be the better leader... but he wasn''t born to soar through the skies like my brother, or wield the ARCs of Venus and Neptune."

    Eliza''s eyes widened. "Two... ARCs?" she scoffed. "That''s..."

    Hannah let out a chuckle. "My brother and I, we''re only half-siblings," she revealed. "Maxtn''s a fine leader, no argument there, but I have faith in my brother. When he''s backed into a corner, he rises to the challenge. Just give him time."

    "So, you''re hoping he''ll change," Eliza remarked. "Maybe that''s your take, but others in the house aren''t seeing it that way. I''ve been hearing whispers all week in my classes about Neptune and Venus roughing up some poor kid from the frontier. About Mercury striking a deal with Henryk, only for your brother to strong-arm them into breaking it. Does Jace have any sense of honor?"

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Hannah sneered. "My brother can be honorable when he has to be."

    Eliza fixed her with a hard stare. "This academy''s a jungle. I''ve seen houses fall to pieces here. House Mercury had it particularly rough, eight out of ten men butchered in their own rooms."

    Hannah''s eyes widened with alarm.

    "And you know better than anyone how ruthless it can get," Eliza continued. "People here have agendas, and they''ll do whatever it takes to climb the ladder. Jace holds the reins on all of it, but no one''s got time for him to learn how to drive the car. We need it to go."

    Hannah fell silent, her voice quivering, eyes darting back to the ground. "I know, I know... but he''s my brother, and I''ll stand by him. So, please, help me out here. Keep this between us, don''t breathe a word to anyone."

    Eliza sighed heavily. "Fine, we''ll keep it between us... no one needs to know that Jace might be under some witch''s spell. Who knows what those witches are plotting."

    She paused, her expression grave. "He''s next in line, they could be trying to puppeteer our politics. Witches are tricky like that, counting on us to be slow on the uptake."

    "Okay," Hannah murmured, her tone soft and hesitant.

    Eliza flashed a forced smile. "Did you catch that? We''ve found it, now we just gotta pry it out of him."

    With nods exchanged, Eliza and Hannah parted ways, disappearing into the forest''s depths. But there was a lingering tension in the air, a crimson hue staining the surroundings. Three to five minutes later, Joseph and Isaac emerged from behind twin trees, their eyes tinged with red.

    "What the hell did we just hear, Isaac?" Joseph demanded, his voice tight with disbelief.

    Isaac remained silent, mouth agape, gaze fixed on the spot where the two women had been in deep conversation. A joint dangled between his fingers, the smoke swirling around his mop of black hair and freckled face.

    Joseph let out an awkward chuckle. "It''s a damn miracle they didn''t spot us with these red eyes," he muttered.

    "And an even bigger miracle they didn''t catch a whiff of this weed," Isaac added, a genuine laugh escaping them both.

    As they approached the spot where Eliza and Hannah had stood, Isaac''s eyes widened with disbelief. "Did we imagine it all?" he wondered aloud. "My mom always warned me about this stuff... and at the academy, I saw someone get flogged for it. Did we just hallucinate?"

    Joseph shot him a look. "No, we didn''t imagine it. We heard it, plain as day."

    Isaac''s brow furrowed. "Then what the hell was it? What do we do?"

    Joseph pondered for a moment. "That was Jace''s sister, Hannah. Remember her from the party?"

    "The one who claimed Henryk was trying to assault her?" Isaac recalled bluntly.

    Isaac shook his head grimly. "Bad business, and I don''t buy it for a second. Everyone''s just connecting the dots because of the antlered knight, Henryk''s departure, and his rescue of Sirine. He couldn''t have pulled off all three."

    Joseph''s gaze drifted downward. "We''re in uncharted territory here, outside of Core World Space. Technically, the whole prince and princess protocol from Venus doesn''t apply. There should be an investigation, but I sense Jace wants to pin it on the person he despises most."

    "Yeah, and Jace was right in the thick of that conversation," Isaac added.

    Joseph nodded in agreement. "I can''t wrap my head around the fact that those Jupiter witches took his..."

    Isaac finished his thought. "...his... essence. It''s all shades of messed up if you ask me," he muttered, his eyes locked on the ground.

    "Didn''t know magic users could pull off something like that," Joseph mused. "Are you saying the Witches of Jupiter want to manipulate Jace?"

    Isaac nodded gravely. "It''s a shrewd move... control the royal heir and you hold a world of power. Any general eyeing Venus for conquest would kill for that kind of leverage."

    "Why?" Joseph inquired.

    Isaac chuckled bitterly. "If you can''t trust your leader, who can you trust?"

    Joseph''s eyes widened, a flicker of understanding dawning within him. Isaac mistook it for surprise at his words, but Joseph''s gaze held a deeper, more sorrowful comprehension. The time for decisive action was drawing near.

    Isaac clapped Joseph on the shoulder, rousing him from his reverie. "Come on, let''s get out of here and finish this joint. Classes kicked our asses today, and I could use some stress relief with good old 21st Century Minecraft."

    Joseph paused, then grinned. "Couldn''t have said it better myself, buddy." And with that, the two set off into the forest, aiming to make their way back to House Mars.

    Ty and Henryk strolled together into the heart of Academy City, their frames silhouetted against the towering skyscrapers that kissed the sky. The city bustled around them, a symphony of floating cars and bustling streets, each path leading to its own unique destination¡ªa vibrant shopping district or humble abodes tucked beneath the shadows of towering structures and craggy mountains.

    "So, how''s the gig at the pizza joint treating you?" Henryk inquired, his voice slicing through the urban cacophony.

    Ty shrugged, his furry arms extending from his white sleeves, a silent observer amidst the bustling crowd. "Tips are decent," he replied, his blue eyes scanning the throng. "And the hours are alright. Owner''s pretty cool, doesn''t give a damn about my... situation."

    "I''ve noticed people aren''t as put off by my magic as I thought," Henryk remarked, his tone tinged with bitterness. "Except, of course, within the academy."

    A shadow crossed Ty''s face at the mention of the academy. "Yeah," he murmured. "August filled me in on your run-in with House Neptune, the second time around."

    Ty''s expression softened as Henryk''s eyes widened in concern.

    "It''s nothing new," Ty continued, his voice tinged with resignation. "Not the first time I''ve had to dodge a mob out for mutant blood," he added bitterly, his gaze meeting Henryk''s.

    Henryk''s heart clenched at Ty''s words, a wave of empathy washing over him.

    "We don''t all have the luxury of hiding what we are," Ty scoffed, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air as they paused at a red stop sign, cars whizzing past them in a blur of motion.

    "So, music, huh?" Ty said, attempting to shift the mood. "That''s quite the ambition."

    Henryk shrugged, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "It''s all I''ve got," he replied softly. "Maybe I can make something of it."

    "It''s expensive though," Ty remarked, his blue eyes absorbing the crimson glow of passing cars. "You''re gonna have to get a job."

    Henryk let out a weary sigh. "Why do you think I''ve got this?" he said, hoisting his duffel bag. Once a repository for clothes and personal effects, it now carried the weight of resumes and aspirations, courtesy of Ed''s late-night guidance.

    As the traffic light changed, the duo waded into the surging tide of humanity. "Heading this way," Henryk announced, veering off from Ty''s path. "Catch you later, Ty," he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the throng.

    Watching his friend vanish amidst the sea of faces, Ty let out a resigned sigh. Gripping the handlebars of his bike, he murmured to himself, "Let''s get this shift done and get this bread."

    Meanwhile, Henryk navigated the urban labyrinth until he reached a familiar sight¡ªthe modest facade of Biancia''s. With a tired exhale, he fished out a crumpled flyer from his pocket and scanned its title.

    "Biancia''s," he muttered, his gaze drawn to the flickering red neon sign. The letter "B" stuttered intermittently, casting an eerie glow on the surrounding darkness. Adjusting his duffel bag, Henryk ran a hand through his unkempt hair, feeling the roughness of his growing beard. Shaving had become a luxury in the absence of House Mars''s amenities; communal showers were a nightmare, haunted by whispered rumors of illicit activities.

    Clad in well-worn boots and comfortable attire, Henryk approached the dimly lit entrance of Biancia''s. Uncertain if the establishment was even open, he gave the door a tentative tug, bracing himself for whatever lay beyond.

    The door creaked open, and Henryk stepped into a room suffused with a pleasant aroma. Although most of the lights remained dim, a row of seats encircled the space. Save for a solitary figure¡ªa young boy engrossed in his homework¡ªthe store was deserted.

    With his backpack still slung over his shoulders and a beanie pulled snug over his head, Henryk offered a hesitant wave. "Hello," he called out.

    The boy glanced up, eyeing Henryk with curiosity. "What do you want?" he blurted out, his voice echoing through the empty room. "We ain''t open yet, in case you haven''t noticed."

    Surveying the pristine surroundings, Henryk''s brow furrowed. It all seemed too perfect, too... new.

    Digging into his pocket, he retrieved the flyer. "Grand opening," he muttered under his breath.

    "What was that?" the boy demanded.

    Henryk held up the flyer for the boy to see. "I''m here about the job," he explained. "Didn''t realize you folks had just opened up shop."

    The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "Does it matter?" he retorted, catching Henryk off guard.

    "Not really," Henryk admitted.

    The boy''s expression brightened. "Well, you''re about to witness greatness," he declared proudly. "My pa always wanted to name a store after my momma, and now that we''ve moved here, we''re making it happen!"

    Henryk listened, his patience waning. "That''s all well and good, kid," he said, "but could you fetch your mom for me? I need to talk to her about this job."

    "What''s your name, s¡ª," the boy began, then hesitated. "You''re too young to be a sir," he chuckled.

    Henryk let out a frustrated groan. "Henryk... Henryk J. Brown, if you must know."

    "Henryk, that''s an old Earth name." The voice, a fresh addition to the scene, belonged to a woman with olive skin and deep brown eyes. She wore a light green dress adorned with a white apron, her hands dusted with flour, giving her a ghostly appearance against her tanned skin. Younger than expected, she exuded an aura of spices and warmth, belying her youthful features.

    "Emmit, stop talking to the stranger," she chided gently, her hand resting atop her son''s head.

    "But, Momma, he wants to work here," Emmit protested.

    The woman, introduced as Biancia, regarded Henryk with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "Did you come for the flyer?" she inquired.

    Henryk nodded in confirmation.

    "We aren''t open yet, sorry," Biancia apologized, her gaze sizing him up. "How old are you?"

    "Uh, nineteen," Henryk replied, tacking on an extra year to his age.

    Biancia snorted in response. "Alright, any experience cooking or handling food?"

    Henryk fell into a thoughtful silence. "I can learn," he offered tentatively.

    Biancia sighed, a mixture of weariness and resignation in her voice. "You know what? I don''t mind giving you a chance," she conceded.

    Both Henryk and Emmit exchanged wide-eyed glances, surprised by her decision.

    "Don''t you want to check my resume?" Henryk inquired, taken aback by the lack of scrutiny.

    Biancia shook her head. "You''re nineteen, and those bruises on your face..." she trailed off, her gaze lingering on Henryk''s features.

    Though still tender, the ache in Henryk''s face had begun to subside. "I don''t get into fights," he reassured her, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "I train, attend the academy. We''re preparing for missions and such."

    Biancia fell into a thoughtful silence, her gaze shifting from Henryk to her son, Emmit.

    "The academy is a good school," she mused finally, her voice carrying a note of consideration. "As long as you can balance your studies and show up here when I need you, I''ll train you."

    "But, Momma," Emmit interjected softly, concern etched in his features. "He doesn''t seem to have the proper experience¡ª"

    Biancia''s hand came to rest gently on her son''s head, a silent reassurance. "How else is he going to learn?" she countered. "Sure, he might stumble at first, not be as skilled as the others. But should I just turn him away? He''s shown commitment by coming here on his own."

    Henryk''s eyes widened at Biancia''s kindness. "Thank you," he murmured, a genuine smile spreading across his face. With this job, he could afford food, clothing, and supplies. Yet, he knew a portion of his earnings would go toward repairing the house and providing for Ed''s needs. Ed still had to find a guild that would serve House Mars.

    Leaving the store, Henryk felt a newfound sense of purpose. "If only I could tell Mama now," he thought, his mind drifting momentarily to Piper and then to Sirine. What would they think when he told them?

    "Italian and pizza," Emmit had mentioned before they left.

    "Henryk the Pizzeria man," Henryk chuckled to himself, but his musings were interrupted by a familiar voice in the distance.

    "Yo, Henryk, you done already?" It was Ty, approaching with a steaming pizza strapped to his back, now donning a bike helmet. "I didn''t know this place did pizza too. Hop on my pegs, I''ll drop you close to the academy."

    Henryk smirked, grateful for the offer. "Thanks, Ty," he said as he hopped onto the back of the bike. "And yeah, I got the job."

    Ty grinned back, revving the bike to life. "That''s great news, buddy. Let''s roll." And with that, they sped off into the distance, leaving behind the promise of new beginnings and unexpected friendships.

    Ty grinned, a glimmer of hope in the midst of turbulent times. "Good for you. A nice ray of good luck in these trying times of the semester," he remarked, his voice laced with a longing for normalcy.

    With those words, Ty and Henryk pedaled through the streets of Academy City, the fading sun casting long shadows as evening approached. The crowds thinned, offering a semblance of ease to their journey.

    But fate had other plans.

    A sudden impact sent them careening into an alley, bike and boys tumbling across the pavement in a chaotic blur.

    "What the hell!" Ty''s shout rang out, his teeth gritted against the pain. The car''s headlights illuminated the scene as its occupants emerged.

    "It''s you," Ty growled, his gaze fixed on the one-eyed figure stepping forward.

    Franklin, eyepatch creased, brandished a bat as his companions closed in.

    Dazed, Henryk struggled to his feet, the helmet absorbing the worst of the blow. As Ty readied himself for the fray, the adversaries from House Neptune surged forward.

    With a roar, Ty lunged at Franklin, but the larger boy evaded, retaliating with a swing of the bat. Ty''s mutated form absorbed the blow, but he countered with a powerful kick that sent Franklin crashing into the wall.

    Meanwhile, Henryk found himself confronted by two other assailants, armed with clubs. They must have orchestrated the ambush.

    Realization dawned on Ty. "That order, was it from you?" he demanded, his anger palpable. The smirks on their attackers'' faces confirmed his suspicions.

    "Damn it!" Ty snarled, seizing one of them and hurling him to the ground, his weapon clattering from his grasp.

    Yet, another assailant bore down on Henryk, his blue eyes framed by black glasses, his pallor heightened by exertion. He wielded a pipe with both hands, sweat glistening on his skin as he charged forward.

    "This is for Piper, Mutant filth." the assailant, Simon, declared, his words a harbinger of the impending onslaught.

    The world exploded into chaos as the pipe connected with Henryk''s skull, stars dancing before his eyes. Pain radiated through him as he crumpled, gasping for air as the pipe descended upon his abdomen, driving the breath from his lungs.

    As darkness encroached, Henryk''s gaze flickered to Ty, a blur of brown fur retreating into the shadows, leaving him to the mercy of oblivion.

 Chapter 27 - Eds Gamble

    <u>One Month Later</u>

    <hr>

    "This is the place?" Joseph questioned, his voice heavy with skepticism.

    Ed peered out from Joseph''s car and slowly nodded, his expression unreadable.

    Joseph sneered, leaning out the window as he gripped the steering wheel. "But it''s just..."

    Academy City sprawled before them, a maze of buildings, shops, and bustling activity that rivaled the energy of New York. It pulsed with life, even in the dead of night, where rumors of clandestine races and underground Warcasket duels whispered through the streets. Yet, when Ed mentioned finding someone to assist with their guild predicament, Joseph had envisioned something more grandiose.

    "Are you sure it''s not that nice building?" Joseph gestured towards a towering blue structure with pristine windows. "Now, that looks like a guild with some real clout."

    Ed''s laughter filled the car. "Well, Joe, if you can waltz in there and convince them to back traitors to the empire, be my guest."

    Joseph let out a curt groan, frustration evident in his voice. "What a joke... centuries of service, and this is how we''re treated."

    Beneath Joseph''s bitterness lay a grinding resentment. "What makes this place so different?"

    Ed shrugged, his demeanor somber. "I did some research at the library..."

    Joseph snickered. "A joke, having to rely on a library. The school should be footing the bill..."

    Ed cut him off, his tone serious. "Usually, it''s donations or a cut from the mission. But that wasn''t a problem in the past. The King used to wire money each month, covering expenses, food, repairs..."

    "Now, we''ve got no king, no planet," Joseph interjected, his voice tinged with worry. "If we don''t secure a guild soon, how much longer can we keep this up?"

    "What do you mean by that?" Ed''s voice held a note of concern.

    Joseph hurried to respond, his words tumbling out with urgency. "Ed, you''re not blind. You see it in the squires and others. The House needs repair, both physically... and spiritually."

    "Spiritually?" Ed arched an eyebrow, his tone tinged with amusement. "I didn''t peg you for one to dabble in matters of the spirit like Isaac and Arthur."

    Joseph''s lip curled in disdain, his gaze shifting away from Ed. "Isaac''s my best bud... Sure, all that military academy training might have given him a rough exterior, but deep down, he''s alright. As for Arthur, being raised on a feudal world, it''s only natural... But my tribe and I, we believe in the emotions and wellbeing of the group. We make sure that..."

    "Woah, woah, woah," Ed interrupted, his voice cutting through Joseph''s ramblings.

    Joseph paused, collecting his thoughts. "Ed, I''m just suggesting that maybe we need to operate more like a unit, like a band of brothers... like in the days of Martian old."

    A heavy silence settled between them.

    "I shouldn''t have..." Joseph trailed off, his tone remorseful.

    Ed turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Now you choose tact?"

    Joseph sighed heavily, a wry smirk playing at his lips. "Sometimes, I forget that you''re different from all of..."

    "I am not different, Joseph," Ed interjected sharply, his voice carrying a steely edge. Joseph, lost in his thoughts and facing the window, failed to notice the change in Ed''s demeanor, the joviality replaced by an icy resolve.

    Joseph rolled his eyes. "You can''t tell me what you told me all that time ago and then act like things can be normal," he retorted, taking a deep breath. "I am loyal, Ed. Arthur, Isaac, heck, even Henryk."

    Ed''s smile softened at the mention of Henryk. "He''ll make a mighty fine Executor."

    Joseph''s gaze bore into him. "You think he can handle it?"

    Ed shrugged nonchalantly. "He has to, or he''s as good as dead," he stated matter-of-factly. "Come on, Joe," Ed continued, his tone taking on a commanding air. "He''s skilled and talented, a wizard as well. The others are fools; he''s a great asset to any house. Perhaps one day, he''ll bear the blessings of Mars upon his back."

    Joseph chuckled darkly. "If he survives, that is... What kind of legacy will he inherit?"

    Ed sighed heavily. "That depends on what Vinnie has in reserves. We all have backup spikes. Back on Mars, they would''ve just surgically removed them and implanted them into a potential Knight. But we don''t have any orders... We''re the last remnants of them all. Perhaps he''ll join Arthur in ''The Hammer of Angels''; his spikes always created formidable warriors. Or maybe he''ll join August''s ''The True Sons''. Their legacy speaks for itself among the dozens of knight orders during Mars'' heyday. None of them ever had the honor of their spikes being placed into a potential Executor."

    "They won''t even know, Ed," Joseph declared, his voice cutting through the tension in the car. Ed turned to face him, his expression guarded.

    Joseph pressed on, the words tumbling out. "The True Sons and The Hammer of Angels orders are gone, wiped out when Mars fell. I was there, Ed, on that transport as..."

    "I remember," Ed interrupted, his voice heavy with the weight of memories. The acrid stench of smoke, the panic as they fled Neptune invaders, the devastation of Mars by nuclear fire. The images played vividly in his mind, etched like scars on his soul.

    His jaw clenched, knuckles white as he gripped the cushioned seat. Centuries of history, art, and lives lost in the flames. Mars was a world forged in hardship, where every breath carried the grit of survival. But it wasn''t just a battleground; it was a home, a culture, a legacy.

    For a fleeting moment, a profound silence enveloped them, heavy with unspoken grief.

    "You okay?" Joseph''s voice pierced the silence, pulling Ed back to the present.

    Ed nodded slowly, his gaze distant. "Just thinking," he murmured. "About Henryk Brown. We keep pushing him towards knighthood."

    Joseph nodded, his tone resigned. "That''s his purpose here, Ed. The boy''s got talent, rough edges and all. He''s a fighter."

    Ed stared out the window, lost in thought, as Joseph continued, his words blending into a steady drone.

    "He''s already proving himself, taking on squires, facing Kieren later. And he''s holding his own in his studies, despite his new music major. As for Sirine..."

    Ed rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "Sirine and that girl from Mercury," he muttered, shaking his head.

    Joseph met his gaze. "Henryk''s practically an adult, Ed. We can advise him, but we''re just his mentors. Mars doesn''t concern itself with alliances; we have them or we don''t."

    Ed''s expression softened, a trace of resignation in his eyes. "Maybe you''re right," he conceded, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "We''ll guide him, but ultimately, his path is his own."

    Ed shrugged, the movement hard and weighted with unspoken thoughts. "I''m not speaking to Henryk as a president, but as his friend," he said, his voice heavy with sincerity.

    Joseph fell silent, the weight of Ed''s words settling between them like a thick fog.

    Sighing, Ed glanced at his watch. "Oh, shoot." His gaze flicked to the petite woman moving around inside the store.

    "They''re open," Joseph pointed out.

    Ed nodded, his hand poised to open the door, but then he hesitated.

    "Joseph," he called out, his tone tinged with gravity. "I appreciate your counsel."

    A wide smirk spread across Joseph''s face, his cheeks flushing with pride. "Thank you, S¡ª"

    Edward swiftly raised a hand, cutting him off mid-word. Joseph''s eyes widened in understanding. "Sorry about that, Ed," he muttered. "Old habits die hard."

    "I guess they don''t," Ed replied, his smirk matching Joseph''s.

    As Ed turned to leave, Joseph''s door still open, his friend''s voice stopped him. "What?" Joseph asked, puzzled. "It''s getting cold in here, it''s like mid-October and¡ª"

    "I just realized something, Joe," Ed interrupted, refusing to meet Joseph''s gaze, the eyes of a friendship forged over years. "Henryk Brown... he''s learning about our culture. Vaguely, but he''s grasping it. He knows how much we value fighting..."

    "Hah, we do love that," Jacob chimed in, unaware of the depth of Ed''s words.

    Ed pressed on, his voice tinged with a haunting realization. "He''s learning violence from our history, from the Plutonians of Damien and our troubled past... He''ll carry the burden of a dead world, embodying all its flaws."

    With a heavy sigh, Ed turned and walked into the store, adjusting his suit with practiced precision. Joseph watched him go, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

    For a moment, Joseph sighed and reached into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette which dangled between his lips as he spoke, words mingling with expelled smoke.

    "Seems like another Damien," he muttered, before hastening down the street, leaving behind a trail of wispy memories and unspoken fears.

    Within the vast confines of the academy, nestled behind the imposing manor of House Mars, the Sons of Mars stirred within their training grounds, their wearied bodies gripping weapons with a familiar, exhausted ease.

    Henryk, clad in leather armor, drew heavy breaths beneath the weight of his gear. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his wooden sword, the open visor of his metal helmet obscuring his features.

    "You all know the rules," Isaac''s voice cut through the air with stark authority, drawing the attention of the assembled squires.

    Kierien, his blond hair tousled from a previous duel, met Henryk''s gaze with a lazy confidence, his sword resting casually on his shoulder. Without a word, Henryk lowered his visor and tightened his grip on his blade, his resolve evident.

    Meanwhile, Arthur, Joseph, and August observed from various vantage points, each bearing the marks of their own battles. The chill of autumn hung in the air, a stark reminder of the changing seasons.

    "Begin!" Isaac''s command echoed across the training grounds, and Kierien and Henryk surged toward each other, their swords clashing in a flurry of blows.

    They assumed basic stances, muscles coiled with tension as they engaged in their practiced dance of combat. Though they were still novice swordsmen, every training session marked their progress under the watchful eyes of the Sons of Mars.

    "You''re mine, druid!" Kierien taunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he launched his attack, his strikes raining down upon Henryk.

    But Henryk held his ground, his focus unwavering as he deflected each blow. "You won''t find me so easy to defeat," he retorted, landing a solid strike on Kierien''s helmet.

    "A point for the druid," Joseph declared, acknowledging Henryk''s skill.

    Isaac''s gaze narrowed as he addressed Kierien sternly. "Save the banter for the tavern, Kierien. You''re a Son of Mars, act like one."

    Undeterred, Kierien shrugged off the blow. "A helmet like this wouldn''t stand up to a real sword," he remarked, gesturing to the mark left by Henryk''s strike.

    Arthur chuckled at the exchange, his demeanor relaxed despite the tension in the air. "That''s one way to look at it," he remarked, taking a step forward.

    "Arthur," Edward interjected, a note of warning in his voice.

    But Arthur paid no heed, his battle-scarred form a testament to the harsh realities of their world. As he stood, a living embodiment of Mars''s legacy, Henryk and his fellow squires couldn''t help but feel the weight of their shared history bearing down upon them.

    Arthur brandished his sword, a simple yet formidable two-handed blade with a bronze guard. There was a fluid grace to his movements, a testament to his mastery of the weapon. "Care to wager on that, squire?" he challenged, his eyes gleaming with a mix of confidence and determination.

    Kieren''s laughter ceased at the sight of Arthur''s poised stance, his expression shifting to one of wary respect.

    With a steely gaze, Arthur began to recount a tale from his past. "Once, on the fields of my homeland, I witnessed a young soldier much like yourself. He fell to a true blade, the kind that cuts through iron as if it were parchment," Arthur recounted, his hand tracing the path of the fatal blow across his face.

    Leaving Kieren with a sobering thought, Arthur retreated, leaving Henryk to rejoin the sparring circle.

    "There''s no punishment for the druid," Kieren remarked bitterly, his eyes fixed ahead as the others listened intently. "He gets away with everything."

    Arthur''s response was sharp. "Watch your tone, boy," he warned, but Joseph intervened before the tension could escalate further.

    "Enough, Arthur," Joseph interjected firmly, gesturing for Arthur to return to the group, where August and Jacob awaited.

    Arthur grumbled as he complied, puzzled by his colleague''s sudden change in demeanor. "What''s gotten into him?" he muttered.

    "They''re not true Martians," August stated bluntly, drawing Joseph and Arthur''s attention.

    Confusion flickered across their faces as August continued. "Henryk may have potential, but the others... they''re not cut out for the role of Executor."

    Joseph struggled to comprehend August''s perspective. "But they have potential. With the right guidance, they could excel," he argued.

    August''s gaze remained fixed on the ongoing duel, where Henryk danced skillfully to evade Kieren''s relentless onslaught.

    In the throes of their duel, Henryk met Kieren''s blows head-on, his movements decisive and sure. With a powerful slash, he struck true, sending Kieren sprawling to the ground amidst whoops and claps from the onlookers. As Kieren regripped his sword, the rain began to fall, adding a dramatic backdrop to their confrontation.

    "Second point for Henryk," Isaac declared, his gaze shifting from the rain-dappled palm of his outstretched hand to the two combatants. "One more loss, and it''s over."

    Kieren''s eyes narrowed, a sneer twisting his features as he approached Henryk, sword in hand. "Looks like this will be the last duel for today," Isaac remarked, glancing at the gathering rain. "You guys finished your classes and exercises?"

    Both Henryk and Kieren nodded in confirmation. "Once you''re done, that''s it for the day. Oscar, Clyne, and Lan still busy with work or classes?" Isaac inquired.

    Kieren shrugged dismissively. "Why does it matter, Veteran? This duel was all about leading the squires, and Henryk just wiped the floor with us."

    Isaac interjected sternly. "No need to be bitter about Henryk''s natural talent."

    But Kieren persisted. "Let''s not pretend Henryk wasn''t going to be leader eventually, win or lose."

    Isaac shot him a warning look. "We''re trying to keep this fair, Kieren."

    "How about you stop whining and actually fight me," Henryk retorted, his voice dripping with challenge.

    All eyes turned to the exchange, tension crackling in the air. Henryk continued, his words laced with defiance. "Enough complaining. Show me what you''ve got."

    Kieren chuckled darkly. "You don''t know the meaning of fury, mutant."

    The word "mutant" struck a nerve, igniting Henryk''s rage. "What did you call me?" he roared, slamming down his visor with a resounding creak.

    Kieren readied himself, but Henryk was already upon him, his movements fueled by adrenaline and anger. With wide, wild swings, he unleashed his fury, his enhanced muscle mass lending him newfound strength and agility.

    "Ay, I didn¡¯t say go yet!¡± Isaac''s voice boomed across the training grounds, punctuating the air with authority.

    Kieren swung, and Henryk''s blade met his with a resounding crash that echoed through the tense silence. Arthur, Isaac, and August observed the exchange with keen interest, their eyes following the rapid movements of the combatants.

    ¡°Isaac, stop them!¡± August''s voice cut through the air like a knife.

    Isaac chuckled, his attention fixed on the duel. ¡°Kieren''s finally showing some spirit. Let''s see how Henryk handles it.¡±

    ¡°Isaac, this isn¡¯t a real duel now¡­¡± August''s protest was met with a dismissive wave.

    ¡°Quiet, Fleeboy,¡± Isaac snapped, his focus unwavering. ¡°Let''s see what Kieren''s made of when he''s under pressure.¡±

    Henryk lunged forward, his attacks relentless, while Kieren struggled to keep up, his breaths labored. ¡°Why won¡¯t you¡­¡± Henryk began, his frustration palpable.

    Then, a tap on his chest brought him to a sudden halt. As Kieren lifted his visor, Henryk met his gaze, brown eyes locking with brown. ¡°Seems like you lost this round, druid,¡± Kieren declared.

    ¡°One and one¡­¡± Isaac muttered, his tone a mixture of disappointment and concern. ¡°Henryk, keep your head steady and¡­¡±

    But Henryk''s response was not in words. It was a primal roar, a surge of power that rippled through the air. Kieren had no time to react as he was thrown backward, tumbling across the grass in a bewildered daze.

    ¡°Henryk, what the hell is wrong with you!¡± Isaac''s voice crackled with anger, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. ¡°Magic¡ªyou weren¡¯t authorized to use magic again¡­¡±

    ¡°Fuck this!¡± Henryk''s voice rang out, filled with frustration and fury. He discarded his helmet, hurling it to the ground, then flung his wooden sword into the nearby river before storming off toward the house. The patio door slammed shut behind him, followed by the heavy thud of the front door.

    ¡°Woah,¡± August muttered, his eyes wide with shock. ¡°Henryk really¡­¡±

    ¡°Fuming,¡± Isaac finished, rushing over to check on Kieren, who was slowly picking himself up from the ground.

    Arthur shrugged, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. ¡°Looks like things got a bit out of hand.¡±

    August''s gaze lingered on the closed door before he sighed and turned his attention skyward. ¡°Everyone''s on their last legs,¡± he mused, his voice heavy with resignation. ¡°No Wi-Fi, no power, no plumbing. We''ve even had to halt repairs on the manor.¡±

    Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tensing under the weight of August''s words. "August, you know how hard Ed¡¯s been working on finding us a guild," he began, his voice tinged with frustration. "We can¡¯t go on missions and actually make real and good money¡­¡±

    August''s sigh cut through the air like a blade. "Ed¡¯s been saying that since we got here, and there has hardly been any change. We need to start thinking¡­before people start looking at other houses.¡±

    Arthur''s eyes widened in disbelief. "People are thinking of going turncloak?" he asked, a disgusted sneer twisting his features. "Even after all the bad that happened with the houses, they¡¯ll forsake loyalties to Mars¡­¡±

    "That is not what I mean," August interjected, his voice tinged with resignation. "I k-know¡­I am a coward."

    Arthur fell silent, studying the young man before him. August''s demeanor was meek, his hands buried in his pockets, his frame hunched with uncertainty. And behind him, the faint outline of the Martian spikes hinted at a legacy he couldn''t escape.

    August''s next sigh was heavy with regret. "If things didn¡¯t go wrong¡­in another life I would¡¯ve been a Knight of Mars," he confessed, his foot tapping rhythmically in the dirt. "But¡­things change, and I ended up on a midworld with my momma and my aunt. It was a very good world, a republic. I never had to worry about meals or being homeless or even warfare.¡±

    "I never got into fights growing up," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. "I played video games, went on my bike with my friends in high school, and I got into the academy due to my intelligence. Arthur, I was meant to be working tech.¡±

    Arthur''s expression softened as he listened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "That¡­that makes sense," he conceded, taking a moment to absorb August''s revelations. "Then, why did you join House Mars?¡±

    August fell silent, his features contorting with inner turmoil. "I¡­I¡­I just missed my father," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

    A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by August''s quiet words. "I can hardly remember him...but my mother told me stories of his triumphs, of his honors. I was taught of the True Sons legacy...the legacy contained in my back. These spikes were my father''s, and his father''s before him¡­a lineage that stretches even to the dark days of the Martian Civil War. And that great lineage¡­I ran away when Ty needed me the most.¡±

    Arthur let out a long, slow sigh. "August, that is not your fault," he reassured, his voice softening with empathy. "You are the smallest of us¡­and that time at the party. Ty is a unit of a man, and even he lost to them. The strength of your spikes puts you at a higher tier, but Henryk¡¯s training could still technically overpower you.¡±

    August''s gaze lingered on the river, the water flowing like time, carrying with it his fears and uncertainties. "I don¡¯t want to be afraid anymore," he confessed softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle rush of the current. "I don¡¯t want to be afraid to hurt people who are going to hurt my friends and comrades."

    Arthur regarded him with a mixture of understanding and concern. "Henryk is talented, but he isn¡¯t perfect, August," he reminded him gently. "We haven¡¯t seen him in an actual mission. Talk is cheap, my friend. The true test comes on the battlefield."

    "That¡¯s if we get lucky with a guild," August muttered, his words heavy with doubt.

    "Don¡¯t lose faith in Edward," Arthur insisted. "He may not have a legion of advisors like Mercury, but he''s doing his best with what he has. And remember, we don¡¯t have an auxiliary except for the Executor Candidates."

    August fell silent, but Arthur nudged him playfully, eliciting a faint smile from his lips.

    "Cheer up, August," Arthur said, his tone laced with encouragement. "You have your own strengths, your own legacy to embrace. It''s not too late to carve your path."

    August''s eyes widened at the unexpected encouragement, his hands clenching into fists as if to grasp hold of newfound resolve.

    "But what if I can¡¯t..." August began, his voice tinged with doubt.

    "You keep talking about Henryk," Arthur interrupted gently, his gaze steady. "But let me tell you something about him. He may be as green as grass, but did you hear what Kieren called him?"

    August shook his head, his curiosity piqued.

    "He called Henryk a mutant," Arthur said with a smirk. "And did you see what happened next? Henryk unleashed magic against him. That''s something, isn''t it?"

    "That was wrong of him to do," August declared bluntly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

    "I know," Arthur responded, his jaw clenched tight as he stared into the distance. "But Kieren won that match against Henryk. He rattled him with that word and got Henryk thinking all the wrong thoughts."

    "Still, that¡¯s not¡ª" August began, but a look from him silenced the words on Arthur''s lips.

    "That''s the difference between a midworlder and someone who''s lived on a world defined by fire and iron," August continued, his tone heavy with wisdom earned through hard experience. "In a duel of iron, a true duel, they''ll use whatever they can to throw you off balance. It¡¯s happened to me more times than I can count. But you can¡¯t lose focus, and you can¡¯t lose yourself like Henryk did. You, Fleeboy, you keep your composure."

    August''s eyes widened at the use of his nickname. "Are you saying that the nickname Axel gave me¡ª"

    "Mean-spirited as it was," Arthur interjected, his voice steady. "It''s a strong name. It can be a title, and a title can be turned into words of power. Fleeboy."

    Arthur chuckled softly, rolling the name around in his mouth as if tasting it. "Fleeboy," he repeated, the word carrying weight and promise. "It¡¯s strange, intimidating, and new. That can most definitely be your callsign."

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    August took a moment to absorb Arthur''s words. "Arthur, I appreciate it, but there''s a difference between Axel calling me Fleeboy because he''s an asshole, and Kieren calling Henryk a racial slur."

    Arthur nodded in understanding. "Yes, and Kieren and I are going to have a nice, long conversation about that," he said, his sigh heavy with frustration. "We can''t afford anyone getting fragged by their own guys. Out there, on the battlefields of space, land, deserts, wastelands, you can only trust yourself and the brother who has your back. Without that, everything falls apart. As a knight, and as someone spiritual, we cannot let words define us. Henryk, yes, is a mutant¡ªwrong as that word is, it''s true. Now, Henryk must learn what to do with it. Is he going to lose control and act like a spoiled brat when some drunkard from Venus heckles him, or is he going to have the strength to be the bigger person and walk away? I''m not saying to let it go, but there are wars and battles to fight."

    August nodded along, absorbing Arthur''s words like parched earth soaking up rain. To him, it all made a twisted kind of sense. They were a fractured group, torn apart by internal strife and the looming specter of financial ruin.

    Arthur continued, his voice a mixture of resignation and determination. "Make a name for yourself... or take one for yourself. Let your actions speak louder than the world''s judgment. Even if they call you a monster, be the monster, but never let it define you. We''ve lost everything, been branded traitors, and our King¡ª" He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, too fleeting for August to grasp its meaning, but significant enough to prick his curiosity.

    Arthur''s smirk cut through the tension like a knife. "Ed has a plan... and one day, we''ll reclaim the honor of Mars."

    In the wake of his words, a heavy silence hung in the air, laden with the weight of their shared hopes and doubts. Isaac had helped Kieren to his feet, and they retreated into the manor, leaving August and Arthur alone in the gathering gloom.

    August cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "What other weaknesses does Henryk have?"

    Arthur shot him a pointed look. "Now you want to know?"

    August chuckled nervously. "Well, like you said, he''s talented... I just want to know where he might falter."

    "He may be magically inclined," Arthur conceded, "but a Martian gun would still make short work of him. Despite his gifts, he''s still flesh and blood, like the rest of us. But Henryk''s true weakness... it''s not as obvious as you might think."

    "Go on," August urged.

    Arthur hesitated, as if debating whether to reveal his thoughts. Eventually, he relented. "Sirine... and the women in Henryk''s life. There''s something about that girl he blinded¡ª"

    "Whoa!" August interjected, his voice sharp with disbelief. "Henryk didn''t blind her; it was an accident. They''re friends¡ª"

    "Friends," Arthur echoed, his tone laced with skepticism. "Joseph drives us to work now, after what happened with Ty and Henryk..."

    A shiver of horror ran down August''s spine at the reminder of past tragedies. He cast a glance toward where Henryk had stood moments before, his anger simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano, waiting to erupt.

    "Sometimes we see good ol'' Piper," Arthur remarked with a chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "She always seems so happy to see him. Heck, I haven''t even seen that one around lately. Is that ace still losing duels?"

    August remained silent, hesitant to speak ill of Henryk.

    "Whoa, how does she lose so much?" Arthur continued, his laughter punctuating the air. "That''s what they get for putting a woman in a war casket. Mars always kept them in the kitchen. Don''t know what Mercury is busy thinking."

    "Dude..." August interjected, a note of disapproval in his voice.

    "What?" Arthur chuckled, unfazed. He sighed, then pressed on. "The Ace of Mercury... and The Princess of The Academy. That''s the attention Henryk has gained. He feels like Paris to their Troy."

    August shot him a pointed look. "Like your accent... you are so dramatic," he quipped.

    Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on, August. You know that good things don¡¯t come from a man who can''t make decisions. One day, he''s going to have to make a choice. Hopefully, Henryk is strong enough to make a choice that he won''t one day regret. And the ramifications of that choice... Hopefully, this princess is as sweet and kind as he says."

    Meanwhile, Ed had just opened the door to a small shop. The entrance was modest, but as the door chimed, he stepped inside. Ed''s appearance was impeccable, his hair meticulously styled, his suit crisp and professional. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, he was a bundle of nerves. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped them on his pants.

    "Relax," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your father would be spinning in his grave to believe that someone who is going to inherit an actual planet is afraid."

    "What do you want?" one of the girls in the room demanded, her tone brimming with annoyance. She appeared to be in her late twenties, with sun-kissed skin and tousled brown hair cascading past her shoulders. Her brown eyes bore into Ed''s, unwavering.

    "Bea, you can''t be rude to him," the second girl interjected. She looked to be around their age, but Ed couldn''t help but notice something unusual about her appearance. Academy City was diverse, but he had a distinct feeling he''d just encountered a new human species, or mutant, as the Neptunians would call it.

    The girl turned to face him, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the room''s light. Silky black hair cascaded down to her lower back in a swaying ponytail, and her eyes, shining like rubies, fixed on him. But it was her skin that held Ed''s attention¡ªit was a vivid crimson hue.

    "Aerlene," Bea grumbled, her voice a low murmur of disapproval.

    Ed noticed then that he wasn''t the only one dressed in black. Both girls wore dark dresses, and as he approached them, he realized they were positioned behind a counter shaped like the letter E. Laptops adorned each side, and the room, though modest, exuded a homely warmth with its water machine, coffee maker, and two large bookshelves lining one wall. Despite its simplicity, there were couches and chairs scattered about, lending an air of comfort to the space. Vending machines stood sentinel, an unexpected addition to what appeared to be a small, self-run guild manned by...

    "I am looking for William Breakburn," Ed spoke, his voice cutting through the room''s stillness. "He may go by other names or titles¡ªSir William, or ''The Breaker.'' Is he here?"

    Both girls fell silent, their gazes fixed on him. Aerlene''s awkwardness was palpable, while Bea''s earlier annoyance had transformed into a piercing glare.

    "Oh, I know who you are," Bea said, her head cocked to the side as she laughed.

    Ed offered a tentative smile. "Well, I''ve been calling for a couple of days, and I figured that seeing you all in person would be..."

    "Bea, wait!" Adeline''s scream pierced the air. But before Ed could react, a large book flew off the shelf, narrowly missing him.

    "Get the hell out of my father''s shop!" Bea shouted, her voice filled with fury. "You''re from the bank, right?"

    But Bea''s fury showed no signs of abating. Adeline''s pleas echoed in the room as Bea launched half a dozen books in Ed''s direction. "Beatrice, that''s enough!" Adeline''s tearful intervention finally seemed to reach her.

    Breathless and reeling from dodging the barrage of books, Ed struggled to regain his composure. "C-can... you please let me speak?" he managed to gasp out between breaths.

    Bea fell silent, the storm within her subsiding. Ed straightened his suit and dusted off his hands. "I am not from the bank... I am from the Academy."

    Their eyes widened at that, reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What are you doing here then?" questioned Beatrice, her tone sharp with skepticism. "We don¡¯t have any missions if that¡¯s what you''re looking for. Heck, we were about to close up shop for the day."

    "Listen, that''s all fine and dandy, but where is Sir William?" Ed pressed, his voice edged with urgency.

    Beatrice fell silent for a moment, her gaze flickering to Adeline. "Adeline, can you get Dad and show him to Ed?"

    Adeline hesitated briefly, then walked to the opposite desk and rummaged in a cabinet. With a flourish, she produced a large pot and set it squarely between them. "Here''s good ole Dad," Bea remarked, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "He''s not really that talkative... Adeline and I just tossed him in the fires a couple of hours ago."

    "Bea, please be respectful," Adeline reprimanded gently.

    Rolling her eyes, Beatrice shifted in her seat as Ed approached their desk. He drew nearer, and they could see every detail about him, from his moss-green emerald eyes to the set of his jaw. A flicker of recognition danced through Beatrice''s mind¡ªwhere had she seen eyes so green before? Memories of her youth on Mars surfaced briefly, memories she preferred to leave buried. But the resemblance was striking, a reminder of a past she''d rather forget.

    Ed''s eyes lingered on the urn before him. "Sir William..." he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish we could''ve met when you were here. You were a great man."

    Beatrice rolled her eyes at his sentimentality, but Ed shot her a look, his emotions warring within him. With a steadying breath, he continued, "Sir William was there the day Mars fell. He risked his life saving dozens, dare I say hundreds, of civilian ships. Without him, my mother and I would''ve been shot down. How long... and how, if you don''t mind me asking?"

    Beatrice''s demeanor softened at his words. Despite her reservations about her father, she recognized the impact he had on others. His sacrifices had saved countless lives, yet he hadn''t made time for his own family. Her mother had been left behind, consumed by flames, while he prioritized strangers.

    Adeline spoke up, her voice tinged with sadness. "Our father died a week ago... cancer."

    "Cancer," Ed repeated, his voice heavy with disbelief. "I thought that the spikes'' healing factor would''ve..."

    "The fool refused to listen and get proper help and treatment. He was old, but he believed that his time was done," Bea interjected bitterly. "He mentioned... that Mars was gone, and what was the point of a knight with a dead king? The stupidity, to believe that all he could ever be was just some space knight with a flashy sword. The imbecile." Bea''s words trailed off angrily, her nails digging into her long black dress as she glared at the table before her.

    "You mentioned before that you were there," Ed realized it was Adeline who had asked him that question. "You''re a Martian too, right?"

    Ed nodded solemnly. "I am a Martian. I inherited my father¡¯s spikes and his father before him... Would you mind if I ask?"

    "Father instructed us on what to do with his spikes," Bea spoke sharply. "Have no worry, Martian. The spikes you men love so much... our father put more tact into their care than into his own body."

    Adeline shot Bea a warning glance, and Bea''s anger subsided momentarily.

    "What are you doing here?" Adeline inquired. "I know our father isn''t here anymore, but he would''ve wanted us to help out any Martians we came across."

    Bea groaned audibly in response.

    "Is there a problem?" Ed asked respectfully.

    Bea remained silent, so Ed redirected his attention to Adeline.

    "What did you need our father''s help for?" Adeline pressed.

    Ed paused before responding. "To rebuild House Mars."

    A heavy silence hung in the air at his words. Then, it was Bea who turned to him, her head resting in her hand as she regarded him with disbelief. "Are you insane?" she questioned. "Mars was nuked... All major cities were destroyed, the countryside was set alight, and even the radiation after over a decade has not tempered. It''s a death world now, and I''ve heard of the horrors that walk the ruins. Knights that have forgotten the darkness of death, black poison lakes that birth demons that hunt any explorer or pirate that treads upon the ruined Mars. Heck, even prospectors steer clear from Mars. How could you rebuild something like that?"

    Ed shrugged nonchalantly. "You speak of the planet... I speak of the house and the people," he stated bluntly.

    Bea sneered, her words slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. ¡°Tough luck with that. The thousands and thousands that fled are sprawled throughout the galaxy, they did this to not be found or hunted, the same reason why I would imagine the difficulties of finding allies.¡±

    Ed absorbed her disdain with a heavy sigh. ¡°This is a guild, do you have any idea why I am here?¡±

    Adeline nodded solemnly. ¡°We can guess.¡±

    ¡°We are going to reject,¡± Beatrice declared bluntly. ¡°Listen, our old man was planning on selling the guild in the first place when he got a good chunk of money. This place for both me and my sister has been a home since the fall.¡±

    Ed''s eyes narrowed with determination. ¡°Your father was a knight who made pledges and oaths to the King.¡±

    Bea sneered once more. ¡°The king is dead, Mars lays in ruins, and the golden prince was lost to the void. I saw his ship get blown out of orbit too. Thirty minutes right after the king died, the king that never was.¡±

    A flicker of complex emotion crossed Ed¡¯s eyes before Bea¡¯s gaze pinned him down. She couldn''t shake the feeling that she had met Ed before, but where?

    Bea sighed, dismissing the thought. ¡°Oaths have no meaning when your planet is destroyed¡­ Listen, why don¡¯t you go to that big fancy guild at the academy? I bet they¡¯d love to sponsor the Martians again.¡±

    Adeline turned to Ed, who scratched the back of his head nervously. ¡°Well, that¡¯s kind of funny¡­ because they banned House Mars from participating in the School¡¯s main guild for missions. So, we need to reach out to a private guild to get us contract missions.¡±

    Bea''s eyes widened in surprise, but Ed pressed on before she could interrupt. ¡°All I would need for you two to do is just to aid us in finding things. Whether it be missions, parts, or weaponry. Having a guild on your back is a powerful thing, and honestly, I¡¯d prefer to stay close to home in regards to the people I am working with.¡±

    Adeline turned to her sister, who had her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Bea''s fingers tapped along her skin as she glared at Ed. ¡°No,¡± she stated firmly once again. ¡°Me and my sister are going to let the bank reassess it, and then we¡¯re going to head into the stars to find a new life for ourselves.¡±

    Adeline''s eyes widened at Bea''s resolute tone, and then a tremor passed through her, followed by tears. It seemed that one of them didn''t want to leave after all.

    Ed turned to Bea, his eyes filled with determination. ¡°If this is a money issue¡­ we just need a mission, let me prove to you how good we¡­¡±

    Bea met his gaze squarely. ¡°No,¡± she spoke more sternly and louder this time. ¡°This isn¡¯t a money issue. Martians are traitors to the throne¡­ we¡¯re scorned for who we are on the majority of Imperial worlds, and I don¡¯t want¡­¡±

    Ed laid the briefcase on the table, its weight a palpable presence in the room. With a swift motion, he popped it open, revealing a wad of paper. It was intricately inked, bearing the royal seal.

    Handing it to Bea, Ed''s voice was blunt. ¡°Look at it.¡±

    Bea''s glare intensified, her initial instinct urging her to reject it outright. Yet, Adeline''s silent plea softened her resolve as they locked eyes. ¡°Please,¡± her sister practically begged. ¡°See what it is at the very least.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Bea snapped, her grip tightening around the paper as she snatched it. She scanned it quickly, then glanced back at Ed before returning to the document, now scrutinizing every word.

    She shot a skeptical glance at him. ¡°Is this real?¡±

    Ed nodded, meeting Adeline''s gaze. ¡°Martian Hierarchy was scattered to the wind¡­ and the only real Imperial Authority now for Martians goes to¡­ me. If you aid me and my brothers, I will give you whatever you want and more. I will make you noble lords again, give you worlds to control, your family name will resonate through the eons.¡±

    Bea absorbed the weight of his words, her eyes flickering over the document. ¡°The stamp makes it authentic and secure,¡± she retorted, tearing through the paper and locking eyes with him. ¡°There is no point to this. Mars is dead and gone¡­ what sort of lands could you even afford me or my sister? Also, I don¡¯t believe you¡­ I remember how Martians treated women.¡±

    Ed''s eyes widened, but he remained silent, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

    Bea sneered. ¡°Arranged marriages, women couldn''t own land without their husband, and the lack of rights was appalling,¡± she glared at him. ¡°You are asking me to aid you in bringing back a monarchy built on death, destruction, and conquest.¡±

    Ed''s gaze bore into hers, the anger seeping past his calm facade. ¡°Then you know nothing of the honors and glories of Mars. You are right, but I promise you that the Mars I build will be a place better than the last. Yes, it may stay a feudal world to create stronger units, but I¡¯ll work on fixing the inequality that¡­¡±

    ¡°When is all this going to be?¡± Adeline''s voice cut through the tension, her gaze probing Ed for answers. ¡°You¡¯re speaking like this is going to happen soon.¡±

    Ed fell silent, his thoughts tangled in the web of uncertainty. ¡°I can¡¯t go into dates or specifics¡­ you forget that while I am president, I have my own higher-ups that I have to report to.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you can ask the higher-ups to aid you in finding a guild,¡± Bea suggested, her tone laced with skepticism. ¡°Because honestly, this was a waste of time¡­ it¡¯s pleasant to see another survivor from the fall, but Edward of House Mars, you will not have luck recruiting me and my sister into your crusade.¡±

    Ed raised his hand to object, but Bea cut him off.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let the door hit you on the way out, Martian,¡± she dismissed him, disappearing beneath the counters with a rustle of movement. Edward felt his shoulders slump, the weight of their rejection heavy on his chest.

    As he turned to leave, the voices of the sisters reached him from behind.

    ¡°Bea, that was so mean. I get it that dad is gone now, but you can¡¯t get angry like that at a stranger just asking for help.¡±

    Bea sneered. ¡°He¡¯s asking us to get involved in his crappy crusade. Just like dad, they never stop fighting, even if it kills them in the end.¡±

    Edward paused at the threshold, his nerves prickling with uncertainty. Why was he feeling so nervous? Was it because he could vaguely remember Bea? Sweat beaded on his brow as he grappled with the thought; she didn¡¯t know, she had believed all those years ago that he was lost in the cluster of ships.

    He would have to tell them¡­ the great President Edward of House Mars, coming to confess to his brothers and comrades that he had failed them again in finding a guild that would sponsor them. They needed missions and actual experience¡­ his father would¡¯ve been disappointed in him. His mind wandered back to that time on the ship.

    He remembered how he had told Henryk how his father would¡¯ve liked him. Heck, if his father could see him now, leading their people¡­ he¡¯d be a disgrace.

    What would Henryk do?

    The words echoed in his mind, stoking a fire of anger and self-loathing. But it wasn¡¯t the crushing despair of failure, it was a controlled rage, a flame he could harness. He needed to be calculated, he needed to secure an alliance. As he turned back to face them, he realized something.

    Henryk''s bravery and resilience shone through in every trial he faced. While others stood idly by, he took action to save Sirine, not once but twice, showing the mettle of a true knight. Despite his humble origins, his dyslexia, and the absence of a father figure, Henryk proved himself more noble than the sons of illustrious knights and heroes.

    Edward paused, his hand gripping the door handle tightly. "Hello...!" Bea''s voice drew out, tinged with irritation. "Seriously, if you aren¡¯t going to leave, we are going to call the cops."

    Adeline shot her sister a reproachful look. "Bea, that¡¯s enough. Let him have a moment."

    Bea snickered. "He comes into our house and bothers us. It¡¯s harassment, and if I want him to leave the store, he will leave..."

    "Did Sir William keep his possessions with him after the fall of Mars... you said before that he kept on fighting," Ed interjected.

    Bea paused, folding her arms defensively. "I don¡¯t see how that has any relevance to our conversation."

    Ed shrugged, his demeanor calm. "Sir William saved me and my family''s life... he saved my mother and fought alongside my father. I was under the impression that he died alongside the sphere of the planet, with the king and the ARC. I wonder if he fought with his personal arms."

    Bea rolled her eyes. "I am not going to give you my father¡¯s personal arms if that is what you think this is. I may not have had the best relationship with my old man¡­but THAT would tarnish his memory."

    Ed approached her again, his tone gentle. "I am not interested in his possessions... just whether he fought valiantly with them. Did he still use the plasma pistol? I heard rumors that he acquired it from a Captain from Saturn, a true sun pistol."

    Bea narrowed her eyes, but she reluctantly nodded, failing to grasp his intentions.

    "That''s very interesting," Ed continued. "Losing such great weapons with such history and power is a waste. Is it true that your father was a Techno Knight? I''ve heard from my father that he was so obsessed with plasma and warcasket plasma that he was able to create potent blends of powerful purple lasers and beams. Heck, us Martians never cared for lasers... but your father changed that. There is honor in that, pride."

    "What are you getting at?" Bea retorted, her tone growing hostile.

    Adeline observed the exchange, sensing a shift in the dynamic between the two.

    Ed advanced, his words laden with weight. "I¡¯ve heard tales of your father''s affinity for machines... and I reckon that love for innovation hasn¡¯t waned. Now, owning plasma weaponry might be kosher, but tinkering with them, making improvements, crafting new models¡ªthat¡¯s a whole different tune, stubmakers."

    Bea''s eyes widened, her reaction visceral. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

    "I''ve had a friend keeping tabs on you for some time now," Ed continued, his voice unwavering. "But I held off on roping you, your sister, and your father into the fray again. Not until the need grew dire. Seems you''ve carved out a cozy niche for yourselves, but the winds of change are blowing, and we need to act swiftly. If you don''t sponsor us as a guild, I''ll have no choice but to inform the Academy City Police. A decade or more behind bars seems like a hefty price, wouldn''t you say?"

    They stared at him, Adeline''s demeanor shifting from passive to incensed.

    Bea interjected firmly, "You have no evidence."

    Ed shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps not. But the Academy City Police won''t ignore your dual Martian heritage. They''ll come knocking with a warrant, and then the real question becomes: do you want to take that risk, or do you want to reign over a world and more?"

    Drawing nearer to the sisters, Ed pressed on, "I''ll bestow nobility upon you for your aid..."

    It was Adeline''s turn to sneer. "More like boss us around and hold us ransom. We don¡¯t even need..."

    But Bea shot her a withering look, then turned her gaze sharply to Ed. The atmosphere tightened, and the room seemed to shrink around them. "We don¡¯t have a choice," she admitted, her voice tinged with resignation. "And I reckon Ed here already knows it..."

    Ed met her gaze evenly. "Your father, ever since he packed up shop, had a rough go of it post-Mars''s fall. He had more than a few run-ins with the Academy City Police... a bounty hunter they kept a close eye on. But that''s all in the files."

    Bea snapped, "How do you know all this?"

    "Let''s just say I have a friend in high places," Ed replied cryptically. "She''s been aiding me for years, and like me, she aims to restore the glory of the House of The Red Moon." He paused, locking eyes with them. "Listen, I won''t sugarcoat it. It''ll be a rough ride, but with your help, maybe we can reunite our people, restore our legacy... and fulfill our greatest dream."

    "And what, pray tell, is our greatest dream?" Adeline inquired.

    And Ed fixed his gaze upon them, his emerald eyes smoldering with restrained fury. "Revenge," he declared, the word hanging heavy in the air.

    A tense silence followed his proclamation.

    With narrowed eyes, Ed pressed on. "Revenge... for the innocent babes consumed by flames, for the brave sons who fell defending their kin, and for the fallen King of Mars." His gaze shifted from Bea to Adeline. "I know your kinship. Bea''s mother perished, and your crimson skin, touched by the very essence of Mars. Red, the color of purity, bestowed by a different mother... one who now rests among the ruins of a forsaken city."

    Bea and Adeline exchanged stunned glances. "How in God''s name do you know all this about us?" Adeline demanded.

    Ed remained silent. "A friend provided me with the details..."

    "... and who is this friend, and why do they know so much about us?" Bea''s voice dripped with suspicion as she retrieved a concealed pistol from her pocket, aiming it squarely at Ed. "Listen here, you fool. You might have amused my sister and me, but if you don''t clear out now, I swear I''ll blow your head off!" Her finger tensed on the trigger, the gun leveled at Ed''s chest.

    "Bea!" Adeline''s voice rose in protest, her hands raised in a futile attempt to defuse the situation. "Please, there''s no need for..."

    "Adeline, let me handle this," Bea cut her off, her tone resolute.

    Though Bea trembled, Ed remained steady, meeting her defiant stare head-on. "You think a gun aimed at me is enough to rattle my nerves? I''ve stared death in the face more times than I can count, and I''ve come out the other side every time."

    "You''re quite confident for a man staring down the barrel of a gun," Bea retorted, her grip on the weapon unwavering.

    But Ed didn''t flinch. "Your thirst for revenge is evident."

    "I don''t give a damn about Mars!" Bea snapped.

    Ed shook his head. "I''m not referring to the planet... but its people." He paused, his gaze shifting between the two sisters. "The Eunuch Emperor owes a debt. Despite your different mothers, she was a mother to both of you. Isn''t that why Sir William fought until his last breath?"

    Bea hesitated, her eyes widening as she lowered her gun to her side and ran a hand through her tousled hair.

    Abruptly, she spun on her heel, her demeanor shifting. "Who are you working for?" she demanded, her voice laced with determination.

    Ed met her gaze with unwavering resolve, offering no answers.

    "You''re right. My father fought for both our mothers'' honor after the fall of Mars... but he kept fighting for the memory of the planet. My father was selfish," Bea concluded, her words heavy with unresolved emotion. Adeline turned away, her expression unreadable.

    Ed sighed, sensing the weight of the sisters'' history. Bea continued, her tone more determined. "If I work with you, I''ll secure guild contracts for missions. I suppose your friend in high places already briefed you on what we do here."

    "Show me everything," Ed said with a grin. "Sir William was a genius, my father always said. Techno Knights, renowned for their intellect and mastery of machines. The things he was cooking up down there will be invaluable."

    Bea raised her hand, halting Ed''s enthusiasm. "Hold on, mister. Before we proceed, I want guarantees for Martian nobility and the best rewards possible."

    "Now you''re interested?" Ed chuckled.

    Bea rolled her eyes. "It''s not that simple. If I''m going to help you, I want to ensure we get the most out of the deal."

    Ed nodded, considering her request. "How much do you want for the missions?"

    Adeline tapped the desk confidently. "Now, that''s where you''ll need to consult with me," she interjected, beaming with pride.

    Ed shot her a curious look. "You handle the finances too?"

    "Ever since she was seven," Bea remarked, a hint of pride in her voice. "I followed our father''s love for machines, but Adeline inherited his mathematical genius. She attends one of the top schools for girls in the city."

    Ed nodded, impressed by Adeline''s capabilities. He noticed Bea''s rare smile as she praised her sister, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. A bittersweet pang tugged at his chest.

    Adeline continued, outlining their proposal. "I suggest we start with a base percentage for the missions. Working with an academy house offers different ranges depending on the task."

    "That sounds reasonable," Ed agreed, nodding. He extended his hand towards Bea. "So, are we in business?"

    Bea hesitated, glancing at her sister for reassurance. Adeline''s smile conveyed a silent message: "Just accept it. We can keep the shop, do missions, and it''s exciting." Bea sighed inwardly, feeling a reluctant smile tug at her lips.

    Adeline seemed to be going giddy the moment Ed and Bea¡¯s hand clasped.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Bea questioned.

    ¡°Edward,¡± Ed stated. But he shrugged his shoulders. ¡°But everyone just calls me Ed.¡±

    Bea¡¯s eyes widened, and a horrifying glance settled upon her. ¡°Sorry¡­,¡± She responded. ¡°I just, I had a friend when I was younger¡­he had that name, and he¡­¡±

    Her mind flashed to being young. Within her arms was a crying six year old Adeline who was fighting within her. People pressed against each other in peasent clothing as she watched her father fight off five Neptune mechs, the blue mechs were made even bluier as her father ripped through there cockpits with blue bolts of plasma.

    They were protecting the crown prince of Mars¡­the heir to the throne and the inheritor of the ARC core. And she watched, as her father¡¯s mech was blanketed by fire and smoke, as the crown princes ship was ripped in half. She screamed along with the hundreds of thousands that escaped and wept for the golden prince.

    ¡°Can I see where Sir William stored the weapons and armor?¡± He questioned. ¡°We are going to be working together and we are going to need all the help we can get. I imagine that a man of his reputation would have¡­¡±

    She sighed. ¡°The old man knew his things, but Martian metals are gone and he¡­,¡±

    Ed interrupted. ¡°It¡¯s not the machines that matter¡­but the techniques and the lessons of the past. I am asking if your father has suits, arnaments, and Warcasket parts or even full Warcaskets?¡±

    Bea turned towards her sister, and a moment passed.

    Bea spoke. ¡°What do you think Adeline?¡± She prodded. ¡°Should he see dad¡¯s collection?¡±

    Adeline nodded her head. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a martian¡­and if we¡¯re helping House Mars now there going to need all the help they can get.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Nodded along Ed. ¡°Remember, the longer I live¡­the better your payout.¡±

    Adeline cocked her head towards Bea. ¡°Bea get the lights and I¡¯ll trigger the mechanism.¡±

    Bea nodded and went to the blinds. Closing the door blinds and the store blinds and everything around them was completely surrounded by deep darkness. However, he could pierce Adeline¡¯s figure near the bookshelfs and she drew upon a book. There was a creaking in the floor and a snapping hiss as Ed backed up and a large elevator appeared blanketing them in soft blue light.

    "Holy crap," Ed chuckled, eyes wide. "Sir William does not disappoint."

    Ed and the sisters stepped into the elevator and descended. It wasn''t a deep descent, just one level down, but what awaited them below left Ed in shock.

    "How did Sir William get all this done?" he marveled aloud. The room stretched before them, adorned with Christmas lights that cast a festive glow over the area. Desks, tables, and bags cluttered the space.

    His gaze fell upon a stack of money leaking from bags in the corner, while tables were adorned with an array of guns, plasma, and laser weaponry. Across from them lay...

    "Holy crap, are those Warcasket parts?" he exclaimed.

    Rushing to the end of the room, Ed found a platform Sir William must have constructed. Three stub arms protruded from the floor and ceiling, suspending a bazooka with a simmering blue coral glow along its back.

    "What is this?" Ed inquired.

    Bea snorted. "One of Dad''s old tricks. He finished it right before he died, but the damned thing looks like it''s ready to go off. I''d be damned to fire that thing, God knows what it''s capable of."

    Ed shrugged, his attention drawn to the long tables adorned with armaments.

    "You aren''t just a guild," he observed bluntly. "You and your father were some serious gun runners."

    Bea smirked proudly. "Well, I feel great pride in continuing the family business," she replied sarcastically.

    Ed ignored her and instead focused on the array before him.

    "Whoa," he breathed. "This is an Executor Rifle."

    Bea''s eyes widened. She shook her head slowly. "Good old Dad had a knack for these things."

    "Are any of them new?" Ed inquired.

    Bea met his gaze. "The plasma weaponry, some of them are new, but he never sold it. He always believed that Martian firepower should stay out of the reach of mortal men. But the Executor rifles and pistols were weaponry he recovered from old outposts or ruined Martian crafts."

    Ed''s features hardened at the thought. There weren''t many weapons here, but the ones they had were Mars-made. Their weapons surpassed those of the other houses in the solar system.

    "Mortal men''s souls get corrupted easily," Ed declared. "It is our duty to protect the realm. Imagine giving the Neptuneans access to our technology; they''d conquer and enslave the solar system..."

    "...and are the Martians no better?" Bea interjected.

    Ed shot her a look, then turned away, focusing on the rifle before him. He aimed through the iron sights.

    The Executor Rifle Mark... Ed wanted to say II. Memories of his royal tutors teaching him about Martian armaments flooded back, though they felt like a lifetime ago.

    He examined the rifle, noting its block-like design, rectangular ammo clip, and lack of a stock. Martian Power Armor helped manage recoil.

    Placing the rifle down, Ed''s gaze shifted to the deactivated plasma guns. He whistled at their sight, picking one up with a grin. "Now, this is what I''m talking about, Sir William," he said, leveling the gun in both hands.

    "No one''s got better plasma than House Mars," Ed asserted.

    While other houses experimented with plasma or kept it outlawed, House Mars had the edge. Martian Plasma Guns were superior, albeit more dangerous to the wearer.

    Bea rolled her eyes at Ed''s boast, while Adeline observed quietly from one of the seats, surrounded by tables of armaments. Bea spoke up, "The old man tried his best to not make these into Stub Makers. They''re better than the black market stuff."

    "How so?" Ed inquired, eyeing the weapon in his hands.

    Plasma weaponry varied in shape and size, and even the houses acknowledged their power, especially in the hands of a Warcasket. This one, stockless like the Executor Rifles, brought back memories for Ed. "I had to utilize plasma weaponry in a work camp... saw someone get both their arms blown off one time," he reflected grimly.

    But the Plasma Rifle in his hands had a certain degree of sleekness to it, retaining the Martian bulk and blocky simplistic design. Its coils lay deactivated and turned down. Ed was surprised by the weight of the weapon, his hands exploring the cooling barrel. He found residual burns along it, evidence of Sir William''s fondness for testing his creations. Ed smiled at the memory.

    Bea''s eyes widened, and even Adeline could sense the shift in her sister''s demeanor. "Well, you see... that''s what separates me and my Pa''s weapons from some black market smuggler," she explained, pointing at the side of the gun. Ed observed rectangular blocks with a thermometer on both sides.

    "When you''re shooting your plasma or overcharging the gun, it will gain heat. Me and my father discovered that there isn''t any real way to get around the issue, and putting caps on the weapon''s heat to automatically shut down destroys the purpose of having an overcharged shot..." Bea paused, her tone knowledgeable.

    Ed nodded along. "You and Sir William worked on these together?"

    "Me and my father did," Bea corrected him.

    Ed sighed, but Bea persisted. "We utilize a stronger blend of plasma that is more concentrated and stable. It melts through anything you point it at, whether it be wood, metal, or even the reinforced metal of a Warcasket. Heck, you aim this at a normal person and they''d..."

    "They''d be reduced to a molten slag of flesh," Adeline interjected.

    Bea nodded. "The substance burns so hot... it''s plasma of all things. Get even a whiff of this stuff on your clothes, and you''ll be rendered into cinders. It sticks and clings to everything..."

    "That''s why it''s banned on certain worlds," Ed remarked. "It melts anything... like tallow."

    Ed eyed the weapon in his hands. It wasn''t illegal for his House to utilize such weapons, but selling them posed real trouble. Yet, his thoughts drifted to Henryk and the other squires. While he and the other true sons had actual military experience in different ranges, what of Henryk and the others?

    They would be dropped into hot zones of varying quality... and they needed overwhelming force to even the odds. Ed placed the gun back on the table, his decision made.

    "Good," Ed stated, his moss-like eyes peering into each of them.

    "What were you planning on doing with all this?" Ed inquired, his hand gravitating toward the array of weapons.

    Bea shrugged casually. "The plasma... we''ve been dealing our ''above average'' weaponry to the Houses at the Academy."

    Ed chuckled, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Well, that ends today," he declared, flashing them a smirk. "You''ll be working for me now."

 Chapter 28 - Wars and Caskets I

    Chapter 28

    <hr>

    <u>The Ensign</u>

    The three vessels sailed lifelessly through the deep black of the void. Their hulls, a patchwork of converted transports and one true military vessel, displayed scars of battle. Missiles silos jutted from the metal carcasses like broken teeth, and beneath the hulls, twisted metal lay wrenched and destroyed.

    Jacen¡¯s Pirates¡ªthe name daubed in fresh red paint along the hull¡ªloomed like a spectral threat against the backdrop of space. Inside the command post, the men huddled around flickering candles, the only source of light in the dimness of the room. Shadows danced on their faces, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

    ¡°This is a threat I wasn¡¯t expecting,¡± the captain said, his voice heavy with weariness. He adjusted his cap, revealing a bloodied bandage over his right eye and a stump where his right hand once was.

    A tremor passed through him. ¡°Damn it¡­ damn it all,¡± he muttered. ¡°It seems the kids from the academy have caught wind of our whereabouts.¡±

    The men stirred, nursing their wounds in the dim light as the fallen lay around them.

    ¡°We need to alert Jacen, Captain,¡± a soldier implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

    But the captain silenced him with a look. ¡°Private Moreno, you know Jacen cares little for his foot soldiers. We are expendable to him.¡±

    A murmur rippled through the group. ¡°We¡¯re dead,¡± one man muttered. ¡°Lost everything... It¡¯s a miracle we¡¯re still breathing¡­¡±

    ¡°What do they want?¡± Private Moreno demanded, his voice cutting through the gloom. ¡°Those rich kids from the academy, what the hell are they doing out here?¡±

    A sneer echoed through the room as a man pushed himself off the floor. His receding hairline and rugged beard gave him the air of someone older than the rest, though he couldn¡¯t have been more than his late twenties. His pallid complexion verged on pink.

    ¡°Those kids from the academy just wiped out two of our transport ships,¡± he said.

    ¡°Ensign¡­¡± the captain warned.

    But the man pressed on. ¡°They butchered us out there. Kids, yes, but they¡¯re better equipped and better trained than we are, that¡¯s for damn sure.¡±

    The captain glanced between the two men and sighed. ¡°They were flying Mercury colors,¡± he stated, his voice heavy with concern. ¡°And they had one of their aces with them. She¡¯s the one who wiped out our escape shuttles, both of them.¡±

    He paused, his gaze dropping to the burns on his wounded arm.

    ¡°I thought Mercury was broke!¡± snapped the private, his frustration boiling over. ¡°They live in their squalor, stacked on top of each other like dirty rats.¡±

    The captain couldn¡¯t help but snicker at the private¡¯s outburst. ¡°Seems like their prayers have been answered. They¡¯ve got good gear now¡­ I don¡¯t know how we¡¯re going to fight against that.¡±

    ¡°And what were Commander Jacen¡¯s orders?¡± questioned the ensign, his voice tinged with unease.

    The captain chuckled. ¡°To continue reaving and sacking cargo, especially from the planets. He wants us to raid planetfall.¡±

    The ensign¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°This is suicide¡­ they¡¯re just sending us to our deaths.¡±

    ¡°You think that¡¯s the worst?¡± The captain gestured around the room with his stump. ¡°This had to be planned¡­ those weapons they were using need platforms. They knew our route.¡±

    The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sank in. The captain nodded, rising to his feet and making his way toward the lit-up white screen. It displayed a sequence of numbers before coming to life with a focused image.

    ¡°What is that?¡± he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of that¡­¡± the ensign spoke up, pointing at the mech on the screen. ¡°They¡¯ve deployed another Mercurian Paladin, but this one looks like a whole new generation.¡±

    The captain¡¯s eyes widened in shock. ¡°A 3.0?¡± he echoed, the number rippling through the crowd.

    ¡°What kind of firepower does it have?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with dread.

    ¡°That¡¯s a different model from what we were fighting,¡± Moreno chimed in. ¡°This one is lighter¡­and is that the gun they were using?¡±

    The captain buried his head in his remaining hand. The mech''s design was eerily human-like, its joints strangely flexible, allowing it to wield the gun with ease.

    ¡°This one is more custom¡­¡± Travis observed. ¡°The standard ones were heavier, but this one¡­ it¡¯s leaner. And it seems to have a visor or something around its head.¡±

    "Like a command antenna," the Ensign remarked, his voice heavy with concern. "They had laser rifles, shields, assault rifles, bazookas... these kids were kitted out. Their government really wants us out for something... what did we do?"

    Moreno rolled his eyes. "It''s almost like we''re pirates, Ensign."

    "Watch your tone with me, boy," the Ensign spat, each step heavier than the last as he approached, glaring down at him. "...Also, wizard! This isn''t part of Mercurian Space. The Oceana Sector used to be part of the Martian Empire, but everyone knows what happened with them."

    A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the captain''s sudden realization. "We aren''t the first to tread down this path. I know another band came down here to do some raiding but intercepted some rich kids."

    Moreno''s and the Ensign''s eyes widened in unison. "Do you think it''s a coincidence?" Moreno questioned.

    The Ensign snickered. "One of their buddies could''ve gotten killed... maybe they''re coming for revenge?"

    The captain pointed at the screen again. "What I''m worried about is that ace and her gun."

    "Moreno," the Ensign called out. "You''re a rich boy from one of those MilWorlds. Tell us where that gun is from."

    Moreno''s fingers clenched into fists, but he knew better than to test the Ensign''s wrath, especially after all of this. His sigh was heavy and loud. "It''s an H.C.M.P... Heavy Caliber Mobile Platform. They''re a deadly piece of weaponry."

    He paused, turning to face the men. "It''s a Warcasket-operated sniper turret, if that''s what we''re going to call it. It''s packing a round that''s primed and shot from a high-powered electrical generator. Its speed and velocity alone were able to rip through mechs and through the command ship. I don''t know how those Mercurians got their hands on that stuff."

    "Enough complaining," shouted the Ensign. "Now, Moreno... tell us the weak spots on this thing."

    Moreno continued to speak, his tone heavy with a mix of dread and urgency. "The barrel needs to be changed after a couple of shots, but we''re just lucky this isn''t a Martian Heavy Calibur... I heard that they were playing around with lasers. They would rig up their heavy caliber guns to generators and they could shoot beams."

    "So... it''s all rigged to the generators then?" questioned the captain.

    "And the barrel changes. We can clip their ace down, but the rest are still going to be a problem," the Ensign stated firmly.

    The captain didn¡¯t speak, only shuddering from another tremor racking through him. "We have to focus on what we know right now... killing her is cutting off the head of the snake. Who knows, maybe they had a bad roster for House Mercury this year, this isn''t even their lands, sending their men to the fringes of space."

    "...and if it isn''t?" The Ensign questioned.

    The captain chuckled darkly, a sound filled with equal parts resignation and defiance. "Then we won''t live to see the next."Top of Form

    <u>Henryk</u>

    "At least you have walls now," Sirine''s voice came out in a hum, a soft melody that seemed to linger in the air like the echo of a distant memory.

    She was perched on his bed, her gaze fixed on the slightly repaired ceiling as if searching for secrets hidden within its worn surface.

    "Yeah, it''s pretty nice," Henryk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "I''ve got a bunch of cool stuff now."

    Sirine''s warm cyan eyes sparkled as she picked up his music player, a relic of a bygone era. "This is an old one," she remarked, her fingers tracing the contours of the device with a delicate touch.

    Henryk felt a flush creeping up his cheeks as he watched her, captivated by the way she seemed to illuminate the room with her presence. "Y-you like it?" he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in his eagerness to impress her.

    She began tapping her head to the rhythm of the music, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. Henryk couldn''t help but notice how the melody seemed to dance in perfect harmony with her movements, creating an enchanting symphony that filled the room.

    "Give me all of you..." she sang softly, her voice wrapping around Henryk like a warm embrace. He felt his heart race at the sound, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to find the words to respond.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    But before he could gather his thoughts, Sirine erupted into laughter, the sound echoing off the walls like the ringing of bells. "You''re horrible!" Henryk exclaimed, his embarrassment only fueling her amusement.

    "Well, you have most definitely changed since we''ve last met, Henryk," she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot. "You''re not as scrawny anymore... told you all that height was wasted on a scrawny piece of bones."

    Henryk couldn''t help but grin at her words, feeling a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the room''s temperature. With Sirine by his side, even the simplest moments felt like magic.

    Henryk''s cheeks flamed crimson under Sirine''s gaze as she gestured around the room. "You know, there are clubs and houses that would kill to have this kind of setup for their parties."

    "Well... Sirine, princess of the academy," Henryk retorted. "Tell me, why is someone of your prestige going out partying?"

    She rolled her eyes, a world-weary expression clouding her features. "Because it''s the only fun thing to do around here. My father never lets me leave the planet, and he''s already planning my marriage."

    Henryk''s eyes widened in surprise. "But you were trying to escape..."

    Sirine let out a heavy sigh. "Henryk, I really don''t want to talk about that. It was a stupid mistake. Thank you for saving me."

    She paused, her tone softening. "But seriously, you need to do something about this room. It''s going to be your home for the next few years, with missions and classes and everything. I want the best for you."

    Approaching Henryk, Sirine''s fingers trailed lightly across his face, lingering on a bruise. "You''re hurt again."

    "Training," Henryk replied curtly. "We''re gearing up for a mission... the Oceana Sector is buzzing."

    Sirine''s eyes widened with concern. "Are you really going to..."

    "I intend to make my family imperial citizens, to elevate our colony to prestige," Henryk declared.

    Sirine''s finger jabbed at his chest, her expression intense. "...and where do you fit into all of this, Henryk? You''re not just a soldier; you''re a human being. I''ve heard that the Knights of Mars were meant to be more than just warriors ¨C scholars, artists, innovators."

    Turning towards her, Henryk''s eyes bore a haunted look, filled with shadows of past traumas. "All I''ve seen here is violence, Sirine."

    His hands rose to his head, memories crashing over him like a tidal wave. "I think I''ve changed..."

    His thoughts raced back to Piper, the party, Jace''s attack, the brutal retaliation. He recalled the accusing stares, the fear in his own heart as Neptune hunted him through the forest... the mob ready to lynch him. How could he face his mother after that?

    They had come for him because he was different, because he was born with a gene that society deemed wrong. But who were they to decide his fate?

    He was stronger, they were weaker, a part of the next generation, poised on the cusp of something new.

    "I don¡¯t want to talk about this anymore," Henryk spoke, turning away from her.

    "That¡¯s okay," she replied with a smile, draping her long, slender legs over the edge of the bed. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, her smile coy as the music still hummed in her ear, the rhythm of a rap verse echoing softly.

    "This is really good, Henryk," she murmured, her words drifting through the air. "I know it¡¯s offhanded, but don¡¯t forget that you''re talented and..."

    "Don¡¯t," Henryk interjected sharply. "I think I am talented in more than one thing."

    Sirine''s eyes widened, and Henryk found himself staring down at his hands, trembling slightly. "What would¡¯ve happened if you were born in the 19-¡­ no, the 1800s?"

    Sirine furrowed her brow in confusion, her movements causing her bust to sway as she crossed her arms. Henryk''s cheeks reddened, and he quickly averted his gaze. Oh how he wanted her.

    "That depends on multiple factors," Sirine replied, her tone curious.

    "Right," Henryk said, awkward and still red faced, his voice uncertain. "But what would¡¯ve happened if a medieval peasant... grew up on a feudal world, never touched a weapon before, but only on rare occasions developed a frequency with it? Now, that peasant, utilizing that or similar weapons, is strangely good at..."

    "Are you saying that you are good in combat with melee weapons?" Sirine interrupted, her interest piqued.

    Henryk hesitated, then glanced at his hands. "I don¡¯t know how good I am. But even the Sons of Mars, with their enhanced strength, seem to notice it as well. I wanna get my hands on one of those Templar swords... I think it would be kind of rad." A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he spoke.

    <u>Bri</u>Top of Form

    Bri found herself ensnared in another dream, a captive of the subconscious, naked and submerged underwater, a silent observer in the vast expanse of a black and white void. Muffled whispers echoed from beyond an imposing barrier, teasing her senses as she drifted. Suddenly, her descent was halted by the rough touch of stone underfoot, a great black door looming before her.

    Surveying her surroundings, Bri noticed a shimmering gray darkness enveloping her, undulating like an endless sea. Her fingers grazed the rough surface of the door, sending a tingling sensation coursing through her body. "I feel all tingly," she murmured to herself, a sense of trepidation creeping into her mind. This dream state was no sanctuary; she knew she could still be harmed, haunted by the memory of the encounter with the enigmatic stranger.

    Behind that black door lay secrets, deeply personal and profoundly private. Memories flooded her mind: the unsettling events at the party, the Earthians trafficking Plutonian plasma weaponry, the enigmatic Henryk, and the encounter with the mysterious alien creature. The irony of discussing privacy while grappling with her own secrets was not lost on her as she hesitantly crossed the threshold into the darkness beyond.

    Meanwhile, Senior Witch Esava and her conclave were gathered, their breath heavy with exertion in the dimly lit chamber of their ancient abode. The stone floor bore witness to the colorful array of their robes, a stark contrast to the swirling darkness that enveloped them. As Bri approached, unseen by the gathered witches, she marveled at their power, their collective energy shaping the very fabric of the dream realm.

    Three witches, wielding formidable magic, their unity evident in the swirling tempest of darkness that writhed around them. How had they conjured such potent sorcery? Bri could only watch as the scene unfolded, the reality of the dreamworld bending to their will.

    Her gaze shifted, and she spotted Himari, her friend, drawn into the center of the ritual. The dream began to falter, its grip weakening, but Bri strained to catch the fragments of conversation that filtered through the fading haze.

    "We¡¯ve got it," Himari exclaimed with palpable excitement.

    Esava''s smile was tinged with fatigue as she cautioned, "Be wary of the dark, Himari. Even now, its influence may linger. Remember, our actions are always in service of the greater good. Do you understand?"

    Himari nodded solemnly, and Bri watched as they exchanged words, the weight of their responsibility evident in their expressions.

    As Esava rose to her feet, Bri''s attention was drawn to an object in her hand¡ªa doll. Confusion gnawed at her mind as she struggled to comprehend its significance.

    "So, the spell was a success," Himari murmured, her voice filled with uncertainty as she approached Esava.

    The Senior Mage''s gaze lingered on the doll before she responded, her tone heavy with solemnity. "Indeed, it appears so."

    Bri listened, her mind racing with questions, as the dream began to fade, slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers.

    Esava''s smile was as serene as the calm before a storm. "Honestly, this spell may be one of the cleanest we''ve ever performed. Every ingredient, every chant, every prayer¡ªall in perfect harmony. And now, we hold sway over Jace, the future king of Venus."

    Himari''s eyes widened with curiosity. "But how does it work, Esava? How?"

    With a subtle flourish, Esava raised the doll, inviting both Himari and Bri to peer over her shoulder. Bri had only heard snippets about Jace through conversations with Himari, but as she observed the doll''s features¡ªdark hair, pale skin, and those unsettling buttons of purple¡ªit felt as though the doll''s eyes were staring back at her, void and eerie. Yet, it was the doll''s flawless appearance that truly unnerved her.

    "Careful, Himari," Esava warned, her voice laced with caution. "This doll now holds a degree of control over him. Your efforts provided the seed, so it''s only fair you know. We have the power to manipulate him in countless ways. Whisper thoughts into his mind, sow darkness into his heart...the possibilities are endless." She chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the plush Venusian fabric, a perfect match to Jace''s own attire.

    As the dream began to fade like melting candle wax, Bri caught the last fragments of their conversation.

    "With this...we''ll have control over Venus and its sectors," Esava murmured, her words carrying the weight of destiny.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    "It''s mighty kind of you to offer to walk me back home," Sirine said, her voice soft and alluring, as she cast a cute smile in his direction. Her cascading white-silver locks danced around her like a ghostly halo.

    "Careful!" Henryk''s shout cut through the air as he swiftly grabbed her waist, pulling her close just as a loose staircase threatened to send her tumbling.

    "H-Henryk..." Sirine''s voice stuttered against his chest as they both regained their footing and continued down the stairs, faces flushed with embarrassment and something more.

    "Sorry ''bout the state of this place," Henryk grunted, his tone laced with frustration. "You should see the house my family and I got. Spacious, nothing like these cramped apartments."

    Sirine''s smile was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the gloom. "I bet it''s beautiful, Henryk."

    Henryk''s cheeks burned crimson at her words. Was it gratitude for saving her that made him feel this way? Or perhaps it was her captivating presence¡ªher ample curves, flawless skin, and that mesmerizing hair, like strands of starlight. How could he not be drawn to her, to the fantasies she ignited within him?

    As they reached the ground floor, a cacophony of sounds drifted from the kitchen. "Is everything okay?" Sirine inquired, concern etching her delicate features.

    "August has some folks over for DND," Henryk explained dismissively. "They''re a bunch of nerds, but hey, to each their own."

    "Maybe you should join them," Sirine suggested gently.

    Henryk scoffed. "Me? Play DND? Not my scene, sweetheart."

    Sirine''s expression darkened. "They''re your housemates, Henryk. You hardly talk to anyone¡ªmaybe it''s time you gave it a shot."

    Henryk bristled at her words. "Whose fault is that? I didn''t start any fights," he retorted, raising his hands defensively. "And look where that got me."

    But Sirine wasn''t having it. "Henryk Brown, sometimes you act like such a boy. No man is an island. I don''t want to hear you talking about your housemates like that."

    "Sirine, wait¡ª" Henryk called out as she stormed toward the door, but she was already gone.

    "Sirine..." Henryk''s voice trailed off into the empty space, his realization sinking in like a stone. "Oh, God...I was being such an asshat." Leaning against the wall, he let out a heavy sigh. Then, a creaking sound drew his attention, and he turned toward the source, his heart heavy with regret.

    "Henryk," he began, his voice trailing off as the distant whistle outside seized his attention, signaling Edward''s arrival.

    "Cheer up, Henryk!" Edward''s exuberant voice echoed through the room as he bounded in, practically dancing on air with a wide grin plastered across his face. "What''s got you in such a rut?"

    Henryk let out a long, heavy breath. "Nothing," he replied tersely, rising from his seat and making his way toward the stairs, but Edward intercepted him.

    "Come on, Henryk. Don''t you want to hear the good news?" Edward''s hands were outstretched, his excitement palpable.

    Henryk paused. "Honestly, I just want to pack up my stuff... and sneak into the music building to cook up some beats, you know?"

    Edward scratched his head. "It''s a real unique thing you''re doing with the music," he offered.

    "Thanks, I guess," Henryk muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly.

    "Listen, Henryk. It''s been a long time since we''ve truly spoken to each other," Edward said, his tone earnest. "You''re a good guy, but don''t get lost out there."

    Henryk''s eyes widened at the unexpected sincerity. "Well... maybe if we actually had human amenities, then we''d all be doing better," he retorted sharply.

    Edward''s expression faltered, a shadow crossing his features. Henryk immediately regretted his harsh words.

    "I''ve been doing wrong by you guys," Edward sighed, his melancholy palpable. "And if you had joined us at a different age, things would''ve been different. I can''t promise you much right now, but if you help me, Henryk, I will give you more than all the other great houses combined could ever offer you or your kin."

    Henryk fell silent, but then a smirk crept onto his lips as he extended his hand. "Then, a deal is a deal, brother," he said.

    "Brother, huh?" Edward regarded him for a moment before grasping Henryk''s hand firmly. "Good then. Listen, everything is going to start changing," he said, releasing Henryk''s hand and guiding him toward the kitchen. "We''re finally going to start moving around here."

    As they embraced, Henryk couldn''t help but smile. What a man to follow, Edward Wolfsheim, their informal House President.

    Later, years, amidst the backdrop of a great party and his own music, Henryk would point to Edward through the crowd. "Sirine," he would call out to her, his voice slurred with drink and breath laced with cannabis. "Ah, that''s my Ed. The man we''re all going to hell for."

    Raising his drink toward the chaotic abyss of the universe, Henryk and Ed contemplated what it truly meant to be a father''s son.

 Chapter 29 - If I Was Gone

    Chapter 29 - If I Was Gone

    <hr>

    Lucas''s chuckle reverberated through the cockpit, a sharp contrast to the stillness of space that surrounded them. Piper stirred at the sound, her mismatched eyes fixing on the distant rings of Oceana four visible through the clear front view of her mech''s monocular eye. She sighed heavily, finding solace in the beauty of the alien worlds, even as they served as a stark reminder of the invaders'' presence.

    "One good thing those aliens did do... at least they made those worlds look nice," Piper remarked.

    "...and habitable," Lucas added with a chuckle, his grip tightening on the mounted sniper turret.

    Piper steadied her hands on the controls, her fingers tracing familiar patterns. "So, is this the part where you do shut eye, and I watch?" she asked, breaking the silence.

    Lucas hesitated before responding. "I don¡¯t mind to stay up if you''re okay with it," he said. "I haven¡¯t been sleeping, honest."

    "That makes two of us," Piper replied, her voice steady despite the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy in the air.

    Silence enveloped them for a moment, but then Lucas spoke up again. "Pipes..."

    "Yeah?" Piper''s fingers instinctively moved to check her mech''s armaments, ensuring everything was primed and ready for whatever lay ahead.

    But Lucas''s next question caught her off guard. "Why do you plug that thing into your eye?"

    Piper''s eyes widened briefly before softening. "I didn¡¯t realize that you were a part of the superstitious lot that believes these machines are more than what they are, machines," she retorted.

    Lucas shook his head, his voice tinged with concern. "Piper, there are just things in this universe that you just don¡¯t do. I didn¡¯t even realize that was a combat spec. Zephyr only asked for something normal from that guy!"

    Piper''s expression hardened as she absorbed his words. "Where did you get this thing from exactly?" she demanded, a flicker of apprehension creeping into her voice.

    Now she could almost sense Lucas''s unease, the tension palpable even in the vast expanse of space. "Listen, we got it from a good black market source, reputable guy and all," Lucas waved his hand casually. "We¡¯ve got prosthetics from him before for decent prices that were solid. Heck, we couldn''t even find one for you that either changed the hue or matched your eye color. Zephyr just checked for anything strange."

    "So, this...thing is clear of hacks?" Piper inquired, her voice tinged with suspicion.

    Lucas scoffed, a nervous edge to his demeanor. "Now you''re wondering, right before you plugged that thing manually into your war machine."

    Piper''s retort dripped with sarcasm. "Oh golly gee, Lucas," she replied smugly. "It¡¯s almost like I¡¯ve had the thing attached to my brain and fucking skull for a good while now!"

    "Easy," Lucas cautioned, both of them taking a deep breath to steady themselves.

    Piper composed herself, her focus shifting to the immediate task at hand. "You''re right... we need to focus on dealing with Jacen¡¯s pirates and recovering Marcus, Todd, and Jeremiah." She readied herself, checking her scope with determination. "Say what you will about what I do, Lucas. But now with this eye... everything in my line of sight is reduced to nothing."

    Her breath grew heavier with anticipation. "I¡¯ve sunk warships down with this thing, and this new mech!" she declared proudly, a sense of exhilaration coursing through her. "Now, this is what I was talking about... this was the power we needed to level the playing field!"

    Lucas chuckled in agreement. "About time that the higher-ups got a whiff of how shitty things are over here. Maybe they can toss in some actual amenities..."

    "What do you guys on the third floor have?" Piper inquired.

    Lucas chuckled softly. "Pretty nice room... share it with three others, at least we¡¯ve got a bathroom and heater. Obviously shows that this was pre-Zephyr¡¯s reserves plan," he paused, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. "Nothing like what you and Margaret got up on the fourth floor."

    Piper chuckled, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. "What I would do for some nice cake," she mused, her hand resting against her cheek. "...and my nice warm bed. I would kill for both right now."

    As Piper''s words trailed off, Lucas''s gaze sharpened, spotting something on the cusp of one of the rings. He cursed under his breath. "Damn fools," he muttered, his attention drawn to a vessel and two transports attempting to slink away in the starlight.

    The Oceana system, renowned for its treacherous asteroid fields and debris, often posed challenges for travelers, offering ample hiding spots for those with nefarious intent.

    "We''re not even planning on ambushing them," Piper remarked, her tone tinged with a hint of mischief. "We''re just here to scout."

    A dark chuckle escaped her lips as she muttered softly to herself, "Eye... grant me your strength. They''re ripe for the picking with these two things."

    Lucas regarded her with a strange look but opted to let it slide. "Piper, there''s only two of us and..."

    "We''re hidden underneath a nice sheet of cover. We can at least maybe mess with them a bit," Piper interjected.

    "Mess with them?" Lucas repeated, a note of skepticism in his voice.

    "Their fleet is scattered, Lucas," Piper said, her grip on her weapon tightening. The Eye shifted, a brown pulse coursing along the grey, the interface seamlessly connecting with her mech, her sniper. For a fleeting moment, it felt like having a true eye, a true sense of balance; the machine granted her that.

    "We can start really messing with their morale," Piper declared, determination flashing in her eyes.

    Raising her finger, she formed it into a gun, aiming at the imposing military vessel that now served as their command center. "I could put one bullet right through there, and the raider problem is taken care of," she stated confidently, settling back into her seat after her bold proclamation.

    Lucas observed their approaching targets. "I''d say it''s a good idea... but, Piper, we''ve only got five of these things in store. We can''t afford to lose them in a prolonged conflict."

    Piper rolled her eyes. "Like Zephyr would allow it to become a prolonged conflict," she retorted.

    "We''ve only got a month, but a month is enough to know if Marcus is alive," Lucas reminded her.

    "He''s not dead... I have a feeling," Piper replied, her voice tinged with conviction.

    "He''s my best friend," Lucas added, his voice heavy with emotion. "I know he''s alive out there. Those pirates... those upstart rebels."

    Piper sneered. "There are too many things going on in this Empire."

    "I know," Lucas agreed somberly. "A bunch of upstarts! They hear about the fall of Mars, the threats within the Oceana Sector, and the Revolutionary Army is not aiding anyone."

    Piper fell silent, absorbing his words with a heavy heart.

    She paused, her words heavy with concern. "I''ve heard bad things within the Oceana Sector, Lucas."

    Lucas hesitated, his voice tinged with unease. "O-okay," he replied, his words punctuated by a stutter. "What have you heard?"

    Piper turned away, her gaze drifting to the distant space shuttle. They were venturing into dangerous territory. "Did you radio command yet?"

    "Of course I did, even before I started talking to you," Lucas replied, a hint of reassurance in his voice. "They''re just telling us to wait and observe for right now. Maybe they''ll send our guys."

    Piper rolled her eyes, her skepticism evident.

    Lucas fixed her with a steady gaze. "Piper... don''t forget your own mortality. That gun is powerful, and you''re right that our last mechs were probably holding you back."

    "Probably," Piper retorted sarcastically.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "But... don''t forget that you once went into battles without your helmet, and I don''t need to remind you of what it cost you. Don''t repeat the same mistakes. Pride, it will be the death of you."

    A tense silence enveloped them, broken only by Lucas''s sigh. "Now, how about those things within the Oceana Sector? You had this grave and scared sounding tone in your voice."

    Piper sighed heavily. "You haven''t heard of the number of people on their planets that have been going missing?" she asked.

    Lucas''s eyes widened in alarm. "Huh, no?" he exclaimed.

    Piper pressed on. "All of these worlds are pretty decent common places, but they''re experiencing record disappearances."

    Lucas''s gaze drifted downwards. "We do have pirates... and I do know that Jacen''s Lot delves within slave trading and..."

    However, Piper shook her head. "Yeah, that''s what I was thinking too... and maybe that as well was what the heads of the Mercurian Government thought when they shipped us out these mechs and new gear."

    "What do you mean by that?" Lucas inquired.

    Piper continued, her voice solemn. "Remember that this Sector used to be part of The Martian Empire..."

    "The Martian Empire," Lucas repeated slowly. "I don''t even like calling it that. What they were allowed to do here..."

    Piper sighed heavily, her breath carrying the weight of uncertainty. "A prior empire allowing a favor."

    Lucas sneered, his gaze piercing. "You speak like the Martians were our equals." He turned, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the Imperial sigil. "You believe that any house should be allowed the majority in a sector?" he challenged.

    "I am not saying that at all," Piper retorted sharply. "...however, it is not part of Martian control anymore, and it''s up for grabs. This independence of Oceana is being led by their council of lords. They are doing quite well for themselves, and now these disappearances, days after Marcus and the rest went missing..."

    Lucas sighed heavily. "You think there is a connection between the disappearances, Marcus, the raiders, and..."

    "Woah, woah, woah," Piper interjected. "I am not saying all that, but you don''t need prescription glasses to put two and two together on how the Mercurians are trying to annex the Oceana Sector. How many worlds were awarded to House Mars, again?"

    "Three out of four," Lucas replied with a snort. "...and the capital. Oceana Prime. That was their first world awarded to them... their capital was a Martian World. Must''ve been a shit show when it came for them to swing their votes."

    "They can go around the system that way," Piper remarked. "It''s dangerous having a whole sector under your control. Hell, isn''t Oceana mostly a series of industrial worlds?"

    Lucas chuckled darkly. "Why do you think the Martians fought so hard to keep them then?"

    Piper winced at the implication.

    "A lot of these worlds are industrial, but the Martians had a certain habit on the way they do things," Lucas continued, glaring at the yellowish planet of Oceana.

    "That''s four, right?" Lucas prodded. "I''ve heard some real shit shows down there, Pipes. Heck, especially not for a woman... and hell, a man as well. The Knights of Mars, they knew how to raise a hardy people."

    "So..." Piper pressed on, "...is this world that is hailed by Mars, do their people hold resentment?"

    Lucas fell silent at that.

    "Let''s just say that they''d be more forgiving due to us flying Mercury Orange. You fly blue, green, or god forbid yellow. They''ll come down on you with the force of God."

    Piper''s eyes widened, reflecting the glint of distant stars. "What do these worlds produce?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

    "Industry... guns and munitions. The worlds are shallow and small with oceans, but they are filled with beasts and mountains. Mountains full of brass, powder, and fire. They used to own it all to arm their armies, now they''re spread out throughout the world... or rather, worlds," Lucas explained, his tone heavy with the weight of history.

    "...all awarded to House Mars?" Piper queried.

    "Can you even imagine it?" Lucas mused. "This happened a good century ago."

    Piper''s breath caught in her throat. "I was born and raised on a midworld of House Mercury. We were treated pretty nicely due to our medium status, but that level of favoritism... That''s only something you really see in the history books." The realization of the disparity struck her like a blow.

    Lucas''s voice crackled over the radio. "There ain''t something right in Oceana, Piper. I just know it, I feel it in my bones." His words hung heavy in the silence that followed. "Always something happening at the academy, sometimes it just gets difficult. But I just don''t know, Pipes, the things I''ve heard..."

    "And?" Piper pressed, her impatience evident. "What did you hear?"

    Lucas''s fingers trembled. "The Grimgore are there."

    "Grimgore?" Piper echoed, her tone sharp with intrigue.

    "Christ, do you not go to class?" Lucas chided gently.

    Piper shot him a look. "No, I''ve been busy with training and catching up on duels. Heck, we''re practically missing a semester right now."

    "Still, you''ve got to keep up," Lucas insisted.

    Piper shook her head and shifted her position. "Here we go again," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

    "Pipes, there is going to be a time where we are going to leave the academy. We''re going to go back to the capital and aid our Empire and House on the capitol planet," Lucas urged, his voice tinged with urgency. "You have to train to be the next generation of student mentors to the next. Piper, you''ve witnessed the dangers of the Academy... and there is a bunch of fresh meat that has never fought before. If I fell... who would..."

    "Stop that," Piper interrupted sharply, her words cutting through the tension like a blade.

    Piper glared at the console, her eyes scanning the blip that had just appeared. A tremor shot through her as realization dawned. Lucas''s words echoed in her mind. "Pipes, you''ve got to understand that if I was to..."

    "Stop that," Piper shot back curtly, her attention snapping to the approaching mechs emerging from underneath the vessel. "Lucas, check your scanners!"

    Lucas sprang into action, flicking on his mech and seizing the controls. "Command was going to send us a squad to back us up."

    "Oh, really," Piper responded, her muscles tensing as she gripped her controls, eyes fixed on the wire by her side.

    "Piper," Lucas''s voice softened, his fingers tightening on his mech''s controls. "Don''t do anything..."

    "I am the ace, and being the ace has special privileges, right?" Piper cocked her head, feeling the electricity surge through her bones. For a moment, her mind''s eye became the lone monocular eye of the mech, seeing through it as if it were a part of her. But the pleasure was short-lived, shattered by the blood dribbling down her lips.

    "Stand back if you don''t want to get your hands dirty!" Piper shouted, her determination ringing clear.

    "Damn it, Pipes!" Lucas shouted, a chuckle escaping him despite the tension.

    "I always forget you''re a Milworld brat," Piper remarked, releasing her grip from the turret and zapping towards the approaching mechs.

    The bipedal mechs loomed ahead, spotty and clunky, with red-brown smoke billowing from their thrusters. Piper soared towards them head-on, her laser rifle in hand, her scope unnecessary with the machine doing the work for her. The thumping in her head increased as she squeezed the trigger.

    Powerful purple bolts streaked through the skies, causing panic among Jacen''s Pirates. "It''s a girl, you fucking pussies!" the commander''s voice crackled over the radio. "It''s one fucking g¡ª" His words were cut short as Piper descended from above, ripping through the cockpit with a point-blank back laser blast.

    Within the chaos of the skirmish, Piper moved with the precision of a seasoned warrior. Her Chrono saber flashed as she sliced through the stumbling mech, the explosion trailing in her wake, a symphony of heat and destruction.

    Another mech turned its attention to Piper, its crimson streak contrasting against the vast expanse of space. But before it could act, Lucas intervened with a laser blast that tore it asunder.

    But then...

    "Oh, shit!" Lucas''s cry pierced the air as he dodged a stray slice, his mounted gun rendered useless. With a swift maneuver, he brandished his machine gun, facing off against the hulking mech piloted by Private Moreno.

    As Moreno careened forward, his laughter echoed through the void. "You''re going to die, you Mercurian dogs!" he screamed, his voice distorted by the confines of his cockpit.

    Lucas gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing in determination as Moreno taunted him over the radio. "You think your academy training is going to best a true son of a core planet!"

    But Lucas was undeterred. With a swift motion, he armed his mech''s evisceration blade, a relic of centuries past, against Moreno''s futuristic beam blade. The clash of past and present echoed through space, a testament to the enduring legacy of the Empire.

    "Damn you!" Moreno''s voice crackled with rage as the confrontation intensified.

    Meanwhile, Piper gripped her bazooka with her stub arm, the sounds of battle surrounding her. As the hangar began to close off, she focused on the approaching mechs, steadying herself for the impending onslaught.

    Amidst the chaos, she reached for her radio, the familiar voice of Henryk offering a fleeting moment of solace in the midst of the storm.

    In the vast expanse of space, Piper danced among the stars, a deadly waltz of destruction and determination. Her enemies, stunned into silence or silenced forever, bore witness to her lethal grace. She moved like a crimson comet, narrowly escaping the jaws of death.

    As the shock settled over her adversaries, Piper''s gaze hardened, fixing on the workers below. Pirates they may be, but they served a purpose in the grand scheme of the Empire. With a steady hand and a resolute heart, she unleashed the fury of her bazooka upon the transport, sending rockets tearing through metal and flesh alike. Screams echoed through the chaos, mingling with the roar of explosions.

    When the dust settled and the echoes faded, Piper stood amidst the wreckage, a solitary figure in a sea of destruction. The hanger lay in ruins, the ship imploding around her. With trembling hands, she steeled herself, reaffirming her allegiance to House Mercury.

    "They were pirates," she muttered to herself, a mantra to justify the carnage. "For the Empire...for House Mercury."

    Taking a deep breath, Piper descended into the bowels of the dead ship, her mission complete. "Lucas, are you dealing with the stragglers or something?" she called out over the radio. "I killed their warship. That''s another tally."

    But there was no response from Lucas, no sign of his presence. Piper''s sense of pride turned to concern as she searched for her comrade amidst the wreckage. "Where are you?" she wondered aloud.

    "Rocket, you there?" a voice crackled through the radio.

    Piper flicked the radio back on, her heart racing with anticipation. "Yes, is this..."

    "Squad 2," the voice interrupted. "Five including myself armed with anti-ship weaponry, but by the looks of it, Ma''am, you didn''t need us."

    A sense of accomplishment washed over Piper, but it was quickly overshadowed by worry. "Where did Lucas go?" she asked, scanning the battlefield for any sign of her missing comrade.

    "Lucas?" the voice replied. "You mean Ensign Lucas?"

    Piper''s brow furrowed with concern as she realized Lucas''s scanner was offline. Something wasn''t right. "I don''t know where Lucas is," she admitted, her voice tinged with unease. "I either want a mech confirmation or a..."

    She trailed off, her mind racing with possibilities. Lucas was trained for this, she reminded herself. He couldn''t just vanish into thin air.

    "Fan out and search!" she commanded, her resolve unwavering as she blasted off towards the sniper perch, determined to uncover the truth.

    Unbeknownst to anyone, Lucas''s mech drifted helplessly through the void, its arms torn away, a victim of Ensign Moreno''s brutal assault. They were drawn inexorably towards the yawning maw of a transport ship''s open dock, a harbinger of darkness awaiting their arrival.

    As they were pulled into the vessel''s belly, the captain''s eyes darkened with malice, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene. A cruel smile twisted his lips as he watched Moreno deliver a savage kick to Lucas''s ribs, the sound echoing in the cold emptiness of space.

    "We''re going to make you pay," one of the captain''s lackeys sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "We haven''t forgotten what you did to our comrades." Lucas met their hostile stares with steely determination, refusing to show any hint of fear in the face of his captors'' malice.

 Chapter 30 - The Knights of Mars

    Chapter 30 - The Knights of Mars

    <hr>

    "Can I talk to Sirine?" Henryk pressed at the gate of the grand manor.

    The doorman, with a heavy grey mustache and glasses perched on his nose, scrutinized him. "Son, I don''t know where you came from, but I have no knowledge of visitors," he replied, his tone firm.

    Henryk''s fingers clenched into fists, his mind racing. "Listen, I''m a friend of hers, and she''s not been answering my calls or texts," he explained urgently. "I''m going on a mission soon. I''m not sure if I''m going to be coming back."

    The old doorman sighed heavily. "I''ll call her, but I have to follow her father''s orders and maintain my post. Maybe you two are just bickering, but policy..."

    "Of course," Henryk replied, exhaling heavily.

    As the shuttle of House Mars whisked them away from the planet, Henryk''s thoughts lingered on the manor. He could still hear her voice on the phone, but now it was drowned out by the sounds of engines and the bustle of the academy.

    "She still didn''t want to see you?" Ed asked, placing a hand on Henryk''s shoulder as they walked down the hall of the transport.

    Ed sighed. "These girls and their problems," he muttered, making his way over to his friend.

    "You can''t worry about this, Henryk," Ed said, catching up to him. "She''s just some high noble princess, nothing special. I told you before that after this is all done, I''d give you anything and more, but Sirine, she is not to be worried about. Especially not right now."

    Henryk''s expression grew stern and quiet. Then, he turned to Ed.

    "What?" Henryk snapped curtly. "Me and Sirine are none of your business."

    "What everyone does in House Mars is my business," Ed retorted. "I''m the president, and that means it''s my job to deal with the morale of all members."

    Henryk''s gaze turned into a glare. "Well, then, Prez. Am I someone that you feel should be worried about?"

    Ed''s eyes widened at the transformation. Henryk, once one to avoid conflict, now exuded a different energy altogether.

    There was a wildness in Henryk''s eyes, a newfound strength forged by rigorous training and discipline. He had become a warrior in both body and spirit.

    "A warrior cannot go into battle with a clouded mind," Ed remarked sharply.

    Henryk took a moment to absorb the weight of those words. "Listen, I don¡¯t know exactly what you see in Sirine, but it¡¯s like what you said¡ªit¡¯s your own business. But¡­we are going into battle very soon. I can¡¯t have your relationship strife interfere with the mission and¡ª"

    "President Edward, I assure you, that I won¡¯t let something so trivial get in the way of the mission," Henryk interrupted firmly.

    Ed was taken aback by Henryk''s resolve. There was something about him, a certain fire that burned bright.

    "Isn¡¯t that why I am here, and Kieren and the rest stayed at the house? Because I am better," Henryk remarked, a smirk playing at his lips.

    Ed recognized Henryk''s potential. He might not excel in traditional academics, but Henryk possessed a rare gift for leadership and inspiration. The others...

    He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The other squires aren¡¯t as well equipped, and me and the others thought Kieren and August could benefit from¡ª"

    "I even overheard that Axel stated that maybe I could beat August, a full martian, spike and all," Henryk interjected.

    Ed''s eyes widened. "Spikes, what do you know of the spikes?"

    Henryk shrugged. "Only repeating words, Prez."

    Ed''s sigh was audible. "Well, that¡¯s good to know¡­also, Axel thinks that you can go toe to toe with August now?"

    Henryk''s confidence shone through. He nodded proudly. "Training-wise, I even bested him...,"

    Ed chuckled. "...and you lost to Kieren," he teased.

    Henryk''s expression twisted into a sneer. "Kieren got lucky," he growled, his anger palpable.

    Ed shrugged, his nonchalance a stark contrast to Henryk''s intensity. "Power, violence, and anger... Henryk, this talk is really just boring and annoying me. How about you come with me and let¡¯s go hang with the guys?"

    Henryk''s simmering anger came to a halt at Ed''s suggestion. A pat on the shoulder from his friend further softened his demeanor. "You¡¯ve fought by our side, trained with us, and we¡¯re all going on a mission together. Let¡¯s focus on accomplishing this mission and getting money to live comfortably."

    A genuine smile spread across Henryk''s face. "That¡¯s a real good idea, Prez," he conceded.

    Edward chuckled, pulling Henryk into a one-armed hug. Henryk felt a warmth rise within him as he chuckled in return.

    They embarked on a starlane, condensing their five-day journey into one. Henryk found solace in the vast expanse of space, illuminated only by the twinkling stars. It was a dream realized, one he''d harbored since childhood.

    They passed the time playing games, indulging in drinks, and engaging in various activities. It felt like the camaraderie of college, the brotherhood he''d imagined at the Academy. Henryk even drifted into a pleasant dream about Sirine until Axel''s interruption.

    "What happened?" Henryk groaned, sitting up in his cot. Axel loomed over him, the lights flickering on automatically, rousing the others.

    "Shut off the lights, please!" Joseph quipped, as Axel sighed, and Henryk noticed he was already in his battle gear.

    Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Henryk faced Axel. "Did something happen?" he inquired, glancing at the clock. "It¡¯s pretty early and¡­"

    Axel''s expression was grave as he addressed the group. "Yeah, I know it¡¯s early, but Ed wants to do a briefing before we make planetfall," he explained, his tone conveying a sense of urgency. "This is our first real mission, and the threat is still real."

    Vinnie''s laughter reverberated through the room, drawing all eyes to him. His bare-chested form showcased his muscular physique as he rose from his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "The threat?" he echoed, his tone dripping with mockery. "We''re going against fire ants," he scoffed.

    But it was Arthur who commanded attention next, his massive frame imposing as he landed heavily on the steel floor. His glare silenced the room as he addressed them all. "I get what you mean, city boy," he boomed. "But these fire ants aren''t a force to be trifled with."

    Vin sighed, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Of course, Arthur. I''m not suggesting we go in unprepared. But let''s remember, this is our first mission. We should focus on learning to work together. Isn''t that why Ed gave us an easy mission?" He posed the question with a wry twist of his fingers.

    Isaac nodded in agreement. "I suppose, but how many of us here meet true military standards?"

    "True military standards?" Henryk echoed, confusion evident in his voice.

    Isaac let out an audible sigh. "Henryk, do you even know any callsigns or protocols?"

    Henryk felt a pang of awkwardness. He considered lying but thought better of it, shaking his head. He couldn''t pretend to know something he didn''t, especially when lives were at stake.

    Axel couldn''t suppress a snort. "No one taught Henryk the basics?"

    Joseph shook his head. "Apparently not," he remarked, shooting a glance at Axel. "What''s Ed planning for Henryk? He''s the only squire without proper combat experience."

    "Well, that''s not entirely accurate," Henryk interjected, standing up. "I''ve hunted and fought before¡ª"

    Arthur waved off his words. "Henryk, no disrespect, but we''re up against an enemy that''s going to shoot back. I''ve faced the White Sharks myself."

    "You have?" Axel''s eyebrows shot up. "So, I''m not the only one with combat experience?"

    Arthur nodded solemnly. "After my family left Mars, we settled on another feudal world. We faced a raiding party from the White Sharks. We managed to repel and exterminate them, but once they get a foothold, they''re a real pain to deal with." He turned to Axel. "And you, pretty knight?"

    Axel sighed, his expression clouded with memories. "My aunt took me in after the fall. My uncle was part of the Venusian royal guards. I was training to join them, and during my squiring, I went toe-to-toe with a GrimGore Brute."

    Joseph let out a snort. "You killed one?"

    Axel''s smile was genuine, the smile of a young knight-in-training. He drew his sword from its black scabbard, the metal gleaming in the dim light. "With this very blade," he said proudly. "I clipped him with a riposte and cleaved his head off." He turned to Henryk, tapping the guard of his sword with his thumbnail. "Remember what I told you about the sword? It''s not just about the tip. I jammed the end of my guard into its eye. The bastard didn''t even see it coming."

    In that moment, he embodied the essence of a true knight, fighting for justice. "So, you''re from Venus stock?" Joseph inquired.

    Axel nodded, his finger tracing the indigo hue of his eyes. "My ancestry can be traced back to the days of the great war. The Red Templars'' purple eyes are just a genetic mutation originating from the spikes."

    Henryk pondered this revelation. So, Axel was technically a mutant. It shed new light on their previous conversations.

    But Axel dismissed the topic. "Enough talk," he said briskly. "Ed wants everyone geared up and ready in five to discuss the plans. This isn''t just a local problem; it seems to originate from the capital city. We''ll clear the infestation by sundown, or possibly the next day."

    Isaac chimed in with a smirk. "So, in and out," he said, already heading for the door. "I''ll see you gents in the armory. Let''s wrap this up quickly. I want to finish that game with the blocks. That castle we made, Joseph, was pretty neat."

    "Hell yeah," Joseph agreed, rising from his bed to follow Isaac.

    Descending into the armory bay of the transport vessel "Asha''s Gift," Henryk observed the scene. It was a typical sight, with testosterone-fueled banter and men suiting up in armor. Joseph and Isaac helped each other gear up, Isaac adjusting Joseph''s breastplate while Joseph opted not to wear his helmet.

    "Look at that," Isaac interrupted, pointing at Henryk. "You''ve even got your own plate here, courtesy of Ed."

    The other squires might have grumbled in irritation. Weren''t these his cousins, his comrades-in-arms? Henryk sneered as he opened his locker, expecting to find the standard Sons of Mars armor. But what lay within was a surprise, and not a pleasant one.

    "Is this..." Henryk''s voice trailed off as he lifted the chestplate with trembling hands, turning it over to examine the design.

    Isaac chuckled, breaking the tense silence. "You''re wearing squire-patterned armor. It''s old, practically a relic, but it''ll keep you safe. It''s nothing like true knight armor, but it''ll do the job. Joseph and I know a bit about Martian tech, so if there''s any issue, just let us know."

    Henryk stared at the armor in his hands, his mind racing. "Where are the charge packs?" he asked, his voice edged with uncertainty.

    "Martians don''t use charge packs," Arthur replied, his smirk evident as he donned his knight armor. "We use this." He tapped the backpack portion. "It''s fueled by a steam engine, blessed and honed by our knight priest. You won''t need to recharge anything. Just get used to it."

    Isaac chimed in, his smile wry. "And learn to act as part of a unit. I''ll teach you some callsigns. We''ll be following the Mercurian or Martian protocol."

    Axel looked surprised. "You''re skilled in both?"

    Isaac chuckled. "I was raised on a forge world. You learn a thing or two about survival there."

    "My father taught me Martian," Axel mentioned.

    "Mine too," Joseph added.

    Isaac turned to Henryk, the seriousness in his eyes cutting through the noise of the ship. "Henryk, are you prepared?" he asked, his voice low.

    Henryk hesitated, unsure of what to say. "This was supposed to be..." His words trailed off, lost in the turbulence of their journey.

    "A quest?" Isaac mused, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "It''s a mission, a quest, or whatever they want to call it. Sending us out into the shit storm to sharpen our blades against the alien threats in the far distance."

    A hush fell over them, the weight of their task settling in like a thick fog. Isaac clapped his hands, breaking the silence. "We''ve got that drama at the academy, they''ve got us fighting and dying from the politics over there, and now we''re off to fight here. What for? A house that''s gone, a..."

    Arthur''s sneer cut him off, his imposing figure rising from where he sat. "Hold on," Joseph interjected. "We may have lost our planet, but that doesn''t mean we''re..."

    "Our dreams have been shattered along with the Golden Prince," Isaac interrupted sharply. "What more do we have to fight for?"

    "And what do you fight for?" Arthur challenged.

    Isaac chuckled darkly. "I fight for revenge, and maybe that''s enough." With that, he turned away, a dangerous glint in his eyes that didn''t go unnoticed by Henryk.

    "Don''t worry, Henryk," Joseph reassured him, rising to his feet and extending his fist. Henryk mirrored the gesture, their fists connecting with a solid click. "We both come from frontier living. There''s a hardiness in that. Have you ever killed a man?" he asked, his voice low.

    Henryk hesitated, his mind drifting back to a haunting memory. His sister, bloodied and bruised, the weight of a gun in his small hands. The recoil as he fired, the man dropping to the ground. But it wasn''t a man; it was something else entirely.

    Shaking himself from the memory, Henryk made his way to his locker. He was the sixth out of six, a lucky number in Arthur''s Martian standards. The other squires didn''t come, not ready like he was. They didn''t look at him, but he knew he was heading out with them, favored in some unspoken way.

    It was a bitter realization, but Henryk knew he needed to gain honor and prestige. One day, he would betray them, but for now, he felt the weight of history in the armor he held. He walked the halls where legends were born, where tales of Old Martians echoed through the city.

    But as he donned the red armor, he couldn''t shake the feeling of impending betrayal. Pushing the thought aside, he focused on the mission ahead, sealing himself in readiness for what lay ahead.

    He raced through his locker, the clatter of armor echoing in the metallic chamber. Straps tightened, gear assembled, each piece a bulwark against the unknown that awaited them. His boots, plated and sturdy, promised both protection and agility, while the distinctive red pauldrons gleamed with an ominous glow.

    "Hello...hello," Henryk''s voice crackled over the radio, the sound muffled by the hum of his suit.

    Isaac clicked on his helmet, the dark red marks tracing intricate patterns along its surface. His blaster, sleek and deadly, contrasted with Henryk''s more rudimentary laser rifle, a relic of a bygone era. Yet, within the confines of his suit, Henryk felt the power thrumming, a sensation both exhilarating and unnerving.

    Their knight cousins, clad in heavier, sturdier armor adorned with Martian symbols of protection and strength, wielded formidable weapons befitting their status. They were the Knights of Mars, and the weight of that legacy pressed heavily upon Henryk''s shoulders.

    "Ready, Henryk?" Edward''s voice broke through the silence, pulling him back to the present.

    "Yeah, I am," Henryk replied, his words tinged with uncertainty.

    They moved through the main living section of the transport vessel, a motley crew of warriors prepared for battle. In the air hung the palpable tension of anticipation, the weight of their mission pressing down upon them.

    "So, this world..." Axel began.

    "Oceana II," Ed interjected, his voice grave.

    "Alright, Oceana. What''s the deal? What are we up against?" Axel''s question hung heavy in the air.

    Ed tapped a screen, projecting footage that flickered to life before them. "An old governor has reached out to us. It''s a long journey, but there''s something brewing in the core."

    "What about back home?" Henryk''s voice was laced with concern.

    "Ever heard of the GrimGore?" Ed''s question silenced the room.

    Henryk, Arthur, and Axel exchanged uneasy glances. "The GrimGore? They''re off-world?" Henryk''s voice trembled with disbelief.

    "You''ve dealt with them too?" Axel''s shock mirrored Henryk''s own.

    "Yeah, they were just pests, classified as plant mutants at first," Arthur mused, his gaze fixed on the gray, shark-like creatures before them. "But cut into one, and you''ll see how false that truly is. These things have spread to other worlds in the system."

    "Like an infection," Vinnie remarked, his figure clad in white hospitalier gear, his eyes searching the intercom for answers. "What''s the plan here, Ed? What''s the guild got us doing for this mission?"

    Ed nodded thoughtfully. "There''s a political rally today, a big one for the governor. He''s up against some lord from Neptune, and it''s bound to get messy. Turns out, a herd of GrimGore has settled beneath their streets."

    "Corrupt nobles endangering innocent lives, as usual," Axel interjected with a hint of bitterness.

    "We''ve got to clear out their sewers," Ed continued, directing his gaze toward Henryk. "GrimGore aren''t human. They''re alien insect pests scattered across the solar system. We''re here to clear them out for money, and I figured it''d get you used to killing something that''s actively trying to kill you."

    Henryk nodded silently, the weight of his past actions hanging heavy in the air. "Henryk''s killed a person before," Arthur interjected.

    "It was years ago," Henryk replied quietly.

    "But you knew what you were getting yourself into," Ed said, his voice firm yet understanding. "There are so few of us, and there are people who see promise within you. I thought it wise for you to run missions with us."

    "They haven''t killed like us, Henryk," Axel added plainly.

    "Agreed," Arthur chimed in. "Our first mission¡ªit''d be a mistake to expose them to it now. You''ve got a manner to you that I like, reminds me of old warriors in stories."

    Henryk chuckled at the remark, and Arthur''s smirk widened. "You find that funny, country man?"

    "What kind of manner is that?" Henryk asked, genuinely curious.

    "The violent kind," Arthur replied with a grin.

    With that, they descended into the spaceport of the grand continental city. Oceana II was just one in a long line of systems, each boasting vast continents bordered by wide oceans, a sprawling expanse awaiting their arrival.

    As they descended upon the capitol city, the transport vessel shuddered and groaned, the darkness offering them cover for their mission. In and out, Ed thought, his mind focused on the task ahead. Henryk would join them, integrating seamlessly into their unit. No WarCaskets or elaborate vehicles required¡ªjust a swift strike to wipe out the hive and retreat. With Arthur, Axel, and Isaac by his side, along with Vinnie and Joseph as reinforcements, armed with a flamer-rifle for added firepower, they were ready for the job.

    Rain lashed down upon them as they emerged from the transport bay''s hangar, instantly soaking them to the bone. Isaac''s voice crackled over the radio, initiating their protocol. "Martian ¨C 78," he announced, and the interface flickered to life. Their weapons glowed with readiness as they moved out. They were like martian wolves on the hunt, with Henryk, the newcomer, trailing in their wake.

    "Best of luck, Henryk. Don''t go getting yourself killed," Ed''s voice echoed in Henryk''s earpiece. "That princess seemed keen on you. Keep yourself alive."

    "I won''t," Henryk retorted. "I''ve got too much riding on this, Ed. My sister, my momma¡ªI can''t afford to fail."

    "Really?" Ed''s voice came back. "No personal glory, huh? I call that a lie."

    Henryk stumbled over his words, but Ed pressed on. "Every man has something close to his heart. Just remember, Henryk, you''re far from home now. A lot can change a man."

    With those parting words, they watched as the transport shuttle vanished into the distance.

    "You''re our radio boy now," Isaac confirmed.

    "Radio boy?" Henryk questioned.

    "It''s martian slang," Arthur explained, his knightly armor gleaming with age. Angel wings adorned his helmet, a testament to his years of service. Gripping his mighty sword with practiced ease, he stood tall, a symbol of strength and honor.

    Henryk clutched his laser rifle, Axel his ornate blaster, and Isaac his powerful blaster. Each weapon told a story, a reflection of the houses they represented. It was a reminder of the world they left behind and the new one they were entering¡ªa world of danger and uncertainty, where survival was paramount.

    They moved cautiously through the darkness, their flashlights cutting through the shadows like knives. Surrounded by towering trees, they found themselves in a clearing, the city looming in the distance. It was 3 AM by Earth standards, the park deserted and silent save for their quiet footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

    Isaac led the way, pointing towards an opening in the wall. It looked as though it had been smashed through by some immense force, the rubble strewn about like confetti. Axel gripped his blaster tightly, his helmet''s flashlight probing the darkness beyond.

    Henryk followed suit, his own flashlight revealing the jagged edges of broken brickwork and the yawning descent into the depths of the sewer system. They peered into the darkness, their lights casting feeble beams that barely pierced the gloom.

    Isaac knelt down, dipping his fingers into the murky water. With a small device, he scanned the area, his expression growing grim. "We''ve got mucus," he announced.

    "Mucus?" Henryk echoed, puzzled.

    Isaac gestured for him to shine his light on a specific spot. As Henryk complied, the device hummed softly before Isaac pocketed it. "Bug mucus," he explained. "There''s something big down here. GrimGore."

    They pressed on, their flashlights leading the way through the labyrinthine tunnels. Suddenly, Arthur''s makeshift perch collapsed, sending him scrambling for safety. His warning echoed through the darkness, a reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

    "Keep your wits about you, comrades," Arthur called out as they pushed forward.

    "How are you holding up, Henryk?" Ed''s voice crackled over the radio.

    "Ed, I thought you were supposed to stay in orbit," Henryk replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

    Ed chuckled softly, his voice crackling over the radio like distant thunder. Henryk could almost picture him, leaning back with a wistful grin. "Nah, I docked at a hanger. Wanted to kick my feet up for a bit and tour the early morning skies. Oceana II, Henryk, it''s a beautiful world."

    Henryk''s lips curled into a sly smile as he listened, his flashlight cutting through the darkness like a beacon. "Really?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I could imagine how it must look topside."

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Beautiful steel buildings," Ed continued, his tone filled with nostalgia. "I know you came from a Colony World, but you''ve ever been to any other planets?"

    "Some, for work," Henryk admitted, memories flickering in the recesses of his mind. "Mostly half-day trips, a staple at my colony."

    "What did you do?" Ed inquired, his curiosity piqued.

    Henryk sighed, the weight of his past settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. "Mining, hunting, anything at all," he replied with a hint of bitterness. "I''m a jack of all trades, Edward. Heck, now I''m a Knight," he added with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

    "You''re skilled, Henryk," Ed acknowledged, his voice carrying a note of respect. "There''s a reason why you went off with the ''Trueblood,'' and now stayed along with the Squires."

    "Pride does not befit you, Henryk," Ed cautioned, his tone turning serious.

    "What''s wrong with self-pride?" Henryk shot back, his voice brimming with defiance. "I fought hard, and I was able to survive. Both within the house, and within the academy..."

    Ed fell silent, the weight of his disapproval hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But Henryk pressed on, his words tumbling out in a torrent of emotion. "Those cowards only joined because no one would have them. I''ve fought men, killed men..."

    Ed''s voice cut through the darkness like a knife, sharp and unforgiving. "Henryk, that is not what being a Knight of Mars entails," he admonished.

    But Henryk refused to back down, his resolve as unyielding as steel. "Is it?" he challenged, his voice laced with bitterness. "I know the way things work. I was accused of a crime I didn''t commit, and all the houses rejected me. I was the golden boy for a day, but everyone spat on me except House Mars," he confessed, his words heavy with resentment. "I saved Sirine the Heiress and Logan the Spear of Neptune. And I showed everyone my might and abilities. That''s why you took me, isn''t it, Ed? Because I can be turned into a killer, a weapon to be aimed?"

    There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by the faint crackle of static on the radio. "No, Henryk, just no," Ed finally replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "We took you in because of what you did. Not because of your abilities or your achievements. They were a boon, a true boon. Because honestly, I believe you can become the next ''Executor of Mars.'' You know of it?"

    Henryk let out a heavy sigh, the weight of Ed''s words settling on him like a shroud. "I''ve heard bits and pieces," he admitted quietly.

    "The role of Executor has been around for years," Ed began, his voice carrying the weight of centuries past. "It''s a title, akin to names like ''The Spear of Neptune'' or Jupiter''s ''Lord Sorceress.'' But for us Martians within the academy, throughout the centuries, there have been heroes of Mars who were never born of Martian stock. These people have joined the ranks of our greatest heroes, whether trueblood or halfbreed, within Mars and blessed by the power of the spikes. You are one of us. I believe that you can be the seventh."

    "Seven, that''s a lucky number," Henryk remarked, his tone firm.

    Ed chuckled softly. "You believe in omens and the sort?" he asked.

    "I do," Henryk replied, conviction lacing his words. "There are things within this universe that cannot just be explained by science."

    "The Executors are people like you, who have undergone the crucible and survived," Ed continued, his voice growing more impassioned with each word. "Through their deeds, honors, and glories, they have earned the right to bear the title of ''Executor.'' They have crossed that threshold of man and beast. And Henryk, you''ll become like us. You''ll be stronger than your average man, you''ll grow stronger, you''ll be more durable. Even your bones will gain strength!" Ed''s voice swelled with power. "You will be a man and more. Pledge to serve the innocent, and to serve your king, and Henryk Brown, I shall turn you into a Knight of Mars. That is why I let you into our House. Not for your skills, but for your heart, Henryk. When Sirine the princess was getting harassed and abused, not a single one of us moved. But you did. A country hick from some backwater nameless world, a young man with no prestige or honor to your name except the great executor blade along your WarCasket''s back. You stepped to Jace of Venus! I''ve heard of your interference with fights, I''ve heard of what you''ve done for Tyson. That is why you''re here. You''re chivalrous without even knowing the damned word."

    Henryk was left speechless, the gravity of Ed''s words washing over him like a tidal wave. "Become a Knight of Mars?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper.

    "Not yet," Ed replied firmly. "But soon. Keep working hard, and these missions will show everyone what I see. I believe you have the makings to become the greatest of us, and I want you by my side to help restore honor to my house, or your house now."

    Henryk stood frozen, the realization dawning on him that Ed and House Mars were finally giving him an inch. But Henryk didn''t know what...

    "Are you afraid of the shame of Mars now?" Ed''s voice sliced through the heavy air, cutting through Henryk''s thoughts like a razor.

    Henryk remained silent, but his nod spoke volumes. "Yes," he admitted quietly.

    Ed let out a weary sigh, the weight of their shared burden evident in the lines etched on his face. "If you help me restore the glory of our house, I''ll give you everything and more. Henryk, I''ve got a great plan, a plan that is going to fix everything. We can have a Mars II."

    "Can we?" Henryk questioned skeptically. "You''re telling me they could copy a whole..."

    "No," Ed interrupted sharply. "That''s not what I mean. You and the rest of the lot are too focused on the physical aspect. We can find new ores, make better gear, reclaim what is lost. But we must let go of the sands of Mars, embrace and centralize upon a New World."

    "Where?" Henryk''s bitterness seeped into his words. "Edward, I come from the backwoods of the universe. People spit on me and my family. Coming from the Core World will be night and day in how you guys were treated."

    "That''s why we''ve never established a proper base of operations," Ed explained. "There are many survivors after the fall, but we''re all too damned scattered. Some have joined pirates, some have joined the rebels, and some walk the darkest edges of space."

    "What about Sir William and his daughters?" Henryk asked, his voice echoing in the silence that had fallen between them. They stood suspended on the bridge of cement, staring into the abyss below. Isaac, with his scoped Breaker-Rifle, wore his helmet, its old ornate knight styled cowl hiding his features. But Henryk knew beneath it lay state-of-the-art sensors.

    "The Williams aren''t what we''re looking for," Ed replied, his tone final. "The old man was a real mighty knight, still is. Real bitter about what happened to him, he was good in a fight."

    "What about the daughters?" Henryk persisted. "Could they be as strong as their old man?"

    "Like I said before, they aren''t what we''re looking for," Ed reiterated. "Maybe, when Mars is reestablished, they''re from true Martian stock. Can''t lose that, especially now."

    Henryk felt a twinge of irritation at Ed''s matter-of-fact tone. "Okay, Ed," he said awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

    "It''s true," Ed continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "We can get help from them due to their guild situation and their ties to the undercurrents. But I am not going to lose the last daughters of Sir William. He isn''t going to lose his daughters. And secondly, they can''t be turned into knights. It''s all biological."

    "And Henryk dared to ask for me. ''What do you mean it''s all biological?'' Henryk questioned, his voice cutting through the tense air like a knife.

    Edward pressed on, his words heavy with implications. ''My momma told me that the spikes were linked to one''s testosterone, and on a genetic level, it could only bond to XY chromosomes. Just the way it was, and all tries to change it ended with King or¡­ just rather Mad Ed. Sure, Mars back then just thought that the gift was only vested to by males, religiously, instead of it being biological. Kind of one of the reasons why Mars became a patriarchy. Hard to believe, that¡­''"

    Ed''s voice trailed off, as if he realized he was treading into dangerous territory. "The change you guys have are biological?" Henryk pressed, his thoughts racing back to the conversation he''d had with Vinnie and Ty days ago. "Are you saying that the Martian population were just a bunch of mutants?" he demanded.

    Ed remained silent, but Henryk could sense his hesitation. "It is difficult to speak to you about this, Henryk. How about after this mission we''ll see where this conversation continues," Ed finally replied before abruptly cutting off the transmission.

    "Ed, Ed!" Henryk''s voice rang out, but before he could finish, a heavy hand slammed into his forehead, jolting him back to reality. "What was that for?" he snapped, glaring at Joseph.

    "Shut up," Joseph snapped back, pointing downwards. "There is a freaking GrimGore down there."

    "What?" Henryk exclaimed, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly dropped to one knee, peering through the red-dot sight of his laser rifle. "Whoa," he muttered under his breath as he took in the grotesque form of one of humanity''s hostile alien species.

    They resembled sharks on legs, their narrow heads permanently fixed in a menacing smile. Clad in inky jumpsuits that hugged their bodies, they crouched around a campfire, their inky black eyes fluttering shut as they succumbed to sleep. But Henryk''s attention was drawn to the array of weapons lying near their feet.

    "What type of weapons do they''ve got?" Joseph asked, his voice low and urgent.

    Isaac shrugged, passing his binoculars to Henryk. "My helmet will just get in the way. You do it," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the GrimGore below. Henryk complied, adjusting the binoculars and focusing on the arsenal laid out before the sleeping aliens.

    With his right hand steady on his rifle, Henryk peered through the binoculars, his eyes scanning the scene below. "They look cobbled together," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper. The distant figures of the GrimGore moved with an eerie fluidity, their forms barely discernible in the dim light.

    The hissing sound of Arthur removing his helmet drew their attention, and Henryk handed him the binoculars. Arthur''s eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. "He''s right," he confirmed with a solemn nod. "Those bastards are cooking up their own firearms down there."

    Isaac clicked his lips in frustration. "This is what happens when these politicians get sloppy with their jobs and exterminators. Now, they send us to do the exterminating." He took a knee, his Breaker-Rifle poised and ready. The tension in the air was palpable as they prepared for what was to come.

    Arthur approached Isaac, his gaze fixed on the distant mutants. "You think you can get all three of them?" he inquired, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

    Isaac adjusted the knobs on his scope, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Maybe¡­ it''s the damned recoil of these damn things. They''ll punch through anything, but be damned if you''d break your arm in the process."

    Arthur nodded thoughtfully before reattaching his helmet. "You''re a good shot, so I believe in you," he reassured Isaac.

    Isaac wiped the sweat from his brow, his hand trembling slightly. "And?" he prompted, his voice strained.

    "You focus on landing three shots to greatly weaken them. Make it quick, so the echo won''t travel far. Knowing GrimGore, they''ve got their own alert system. Whatever you don''t kill¡­ I''ll mop up," Arthur replied with steely resolve.

    Isaac nodded, his jaw set in determination. He clicked the safety off his weapon, his fingers tightening around the grip. "Aye, within the teachings of The Red Sands. Without sacrifice, nothing can be attained. The body dies, but the spirit lives," he muttered to himself, channeling the ancient mantra of his people. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and squeezed the trigger.

    The first shot rang out, striking true against the mutant on the left. Its throat exploded into a mist of blood and flesh, the force of the impact nearly knocking Isaac off balance. But he persisted, firing two more shots in rapid succession.

    The second GrimGore reacted with primal fury, unleashing a barrage of bullets in their direction. Isaac''s aim remained steady, his shots finding their mark with deadly accuracy. The creature staggered, its limbs shredded by the force of the bullets, but it refused to yield, bellowing in pain and fury.

    Blood sprayed, sinew tore, and bone shattered as Isaac''s weapon dealt devastating blows to the GrimGore. The creature, now crippled, howled in agony, its once formidable limbs reduced to mangled remnants. "Fuck, it''s jammed!" Isaac''s cry pierced the chaos, echoing through the grimy confines of the sewer.

    Amidst the frenzy, Arthur remained a beacon of calm resolve. With a thunderous roar, he charged forward, drawing his massive blade with the grace of a seasoned warrior. His opponent, a towering GrimGore armed with a bayoneted carbine, met him head-on, snarling and slashing with ferocious intent.

    But Arthur was no mere mortal. With swift, fluid movements, he danced around the creature''s strikes, his blade a blur of deadly precision. Each swing was met with a deft parry, each thrust dodged with uncanny agility. "Is that your weapon?" Arthur taunted, his voice a mix of mockery and defiance.

    The GrimGore roared in frustration, its primitive instincts no match for Arthur''s skill. In a single, decisive motion, Arthur brought his blade down with unrelenting force, cleaving through the creature''s defenses with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed, steel clashed, and in the blink of an eye, the battle was over.

    As the lifeless bodies of their foes littered the platform, Henryk found himself lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Memories of past battles flooded his mind, each one a haunting reminder of the violence that defined his existence. He had killed before, he knew that much, but the details eluded him, lost in a haze of adrenaline and fear.

    Was it wrong to feel pride in his actions, in his ability to protect those he loved? The question gnawed at Henryk''s conscience, its answer lost in the murky depths of his uncertainty.

    Henryk''s gaze flitted uneasily over the grotesque form of the creature before him, its monstrous frame looming like a specter in the dim light of the sewer. Muscles bulged beneath its mottled hide, talons glinting ominously in the shadows. Its eyes, twin pools of unfathomable darkness, seemed to bore into Henryk''s soul, filling him with a nameless dread.

    With trembling hands, Henryk raised his laser rifle, the weight of the weapon a stark reminder of the peril that surrounded them. His mind churned with images of violence and death, each one a chilling reminder of the dangers they faced. What had he gotten himself into? He wasn''t a soldier, he was a dreamer, a seeker of adventure. The thought of facing death in this forsaken place filled him with a sickening sense of despair.

    "I should go back," he whispered to himself, the words barely audible over the din of the sewer. "Back to my family, my home. What good am I to them dead and buried in some forgotten grave?" But even as he spoke, a fierce determination welled up within him, banishing his doubts like shadows in the light.

    He tightened his grip on the rifle, his knuckles white with strain. He would not falter, not now. The legacy of his father, the sacrifices of his family¡ªthey were his burden to bear, his responsibility to honor. With a steely resolve, he steeled himself for the battle ahead, his mind clear, his purpose unwavering.

    As Arthur approached, clad in armor that spoke of a bygone era, Henryk''s thoughts turned to the mysteries that surrounded them. Where had they obtained such powerful weaponry, such formidable protection? The answers eluded him, lost in the labyrinthine corridors of his mind.

    Arthur''s armor, in particular, caught Henryk''s attention¡ªa relic of a forgotten age, its design both archaic and advanced. As he studied the intricate patterns etched into its surface, a sense of unease washed over him. There were secrets here, he knew, secrets that lay buried beneath layers of deceit and betrayal.

    But now was not the time for questions, not when their lives hung in the balance. With a silent nod to Arthur, Henryk readied himself for the task ahead, his mind focused, his heart steady. For in the darkness of the sewer, amidst the shadows and the filth, they would stand together, united in purpose and resolve. And though the road ahead was fraught with danger, Henryk knew that they would face it head-on, their spirits unbroken, their courage undimmed.

    Henryk grappled with his thoughts as Arthur fixed him with a steady gaze, the sound of his helmet clinking off punctuating the silence like a warning bell. There was something knightly about Arthur, a relic of a bygone era transplanted into the chaos of their present situation. Henryk felt the weight of his warm brown eyes, a stark contrast to his own troubled blue.

    "You seem troubled, Ser Henryk," Arthur remarked, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of concern.

    Henryk forced a smile, though inwardly he felt anything but calm. What was it that troubled him so? If only he could shake this unease, if only he could find solace in their shared purpose. But Ed''s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the weight of their mission, the burden of rebuilding the House of The Red Moon. Was Arthur privy to their plans, or was there something more beneath the surface?

    He tore his gaze away from the lifeless corpse before them. "I''m fine," he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his true feelings.

    "You don''t seem so, Ser Henryk," Arthur observed. "You''ve been as jittery as a bee in a bottle. And while I admire your spirit, I can''t help but notice your inexperience. A boy in power armor, no less¡ªa squire in a suit of war."

    Henryk''s grip tightened on his rifle, his gaze narrowing. "What are you getting at?" he demanded.

    Arthur raised a placating hand. "I don''t fault you, Ser Henryk. It''s clear you''re out of your depth, thrust into a role you never asked for. But do you truly understand the gravity of our situation? The stakes we''re playing for?"

    Henryk bristled at the implication. "I may be new to this, but I''m no coward," he retorted, though doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

    Arthur''s expression softened. "I don''t doubt your courage, Henryk. But there are those among us who question your loyalty, your commitment to our cause. Some even whisper of darker things..."

    The insinuation struck a nerve, and Henryk''s defiance hardened into defiance. "I know where my loyalties lie," he declared, his voice ringing with newfound conviction.

    Arthur regarded him with a knowing look. "Then prove it, Ser Henryk. In this crucible of fire and blood, let your actions speak louder than words."

    "There are others who believe you can become an Executor of Mars," Arthur replied, his voice carrying a weight of solemnity.

    "That''s not the first time I''ve heard that word," Henryk admitted.

    "Have you any inkling of what it entails?" Arthur inquired.

    Henryk hesitated. "I-I''m not entirely sure... I know it''s a title, but..."

    Arthur chuckled softly. "Out there on the fringes of the frontier, such things may not penetrate as deeply into your world. Perhaps they linger on the edges of your legends, whispered by passing ships. But we Martians have seen men from diverse realms join our ranks, often from the Academy. Young men like yourself, who somehow find themselves aligned with House Mars."

    Henryk''s lip curled in defiance. "Somehow joined?" he scoffed. "Ed and I saved a girl out there. I pledged myself out of duty, to bring honor to my homeland, to help achieve your objectives... to prevent House Mars from falling into dishonor," he retorted sharply.

    Arthur fell into a contemplative silence.

    "You''ve made an impression, Henryk," Arthur acknowledged. "An Antlered Knight, a lone warrior, a mage, an abomination. Many names could be bestowed upon you, each resonating even as the sun sets," he mused. Henryk''s sneer betrayed his skepticism, but Arthur pressed on. "There could be songs and legends born of your deeds. Television shows and epic movies. You''ve joined a brotherhood centuries in the making. An order that once held back the encroaching darkness, but has since become the very hand of tyranny. We''ve plundered, terrorized, and betrayed. Henryk, do not mistake us for paragons of honor. I speak to you now, if you can bear to hear it. This path is different. Ed has spoken of your first kill..."

    Henryk''s retort was swift. "Do not belittle my experience. I''ve faced combat before, I''ve taken lives..."

    Arthur''s smirk was faint but unmistakable. "...and you''re a quick learner. You have skill with your weapons, and I have no doubt you''ll improve. But you should be among the other squires, learning the tenets of the warrior."

    "What tenets?" Henryk snorted. "I saved Sirine, I intervened when none of you would!" His words ignited a tension that crackled between him and Arthur, drawing the attention of their comrades.

    "Shut your mouth, Henryk!" Vinnie snapped, the edge in his voice slicing through the air. Henryk and Arthur drew dangerously close, the heat of their confrontation palpable.

    "Do not provoke me, Ser Arthur," Henryk retorted, his gaze locked onto the eyehole slit of Arthur''s Templar Plate. But before he could utter another word, his head met steel with a resounding thud.

    "Do not deny me," Henryk repeated, his voice echoing in the confines of his helmet. "I''ve come here for creed, for my home, for honor. I will not be denied. I am strong, I can win, I want, want, want..."

    "Honor!" Arthur silently howled through the rusty rattling microphone of his helmet. "Honor, Henryk, in every kill, in every death. For they are our enemies, the beasts in the dark. Your armor is truth, your sword is justice. It was us who held the gates when Earth fell. Our fathers, blessed without the spikes, held the line when all else failed. Even without the spikes, we stand as warriors. You are one of us, Henryk. Wipe out these vermin with no remorse, think of this as your homeworld. Defend it, honor it with the code of chivalry, and do right." And with those words, they parted ways.

    Henryk slammed his hand across his features, and Arthur knew his words had struck a chord.

    They each took their own path. "We''re going to cut down the left way. Henryk, radio Ed," Arthur instructed.

    Henryk switched on his radio. "Ed... Ed... Ed..."

    "Eddie," snapped Isaac, his grip tight on his rifle, glaring at the trigger with intensity. "Eddie, explain to me why my rifle is so damned rusty. The thing nearly broke my shoulder!"

    "Hah," snorted Vinnie. "If we were raised on Mars, we''d have been shooting those things till our shoulders got used to it. Say what you will about Martian weaponry, but our caliber punched straight through that GrimGore."

    Isaac chuckled. "Those fuckers didn''t even know what hit them," he remarked, lining up his fingers into a makeshift gun and taking aim down the entrance toward the left tunnel. "Us Martians, can''t remember much of it. But there was always a pride in that." Rising from his crouch, he gripped his weapon. "Come on, folks, we''ve lingered down here for far too long."

    They descended into the caverns, Arthur noting that Henryk seemed more relaxed yet more prepared. He wasn''t letting battle lust or fear take over. Arthur didn''t like what was happening to him, but it was a trial by fire they all faced.

    Running and resting for a mix of four hours, they followed the scanner and, at times, just rested, realizing they weren''t there yet. It was an unknown sewer system beneath a sprawling city. But they found a way forward.

    "We should invest in some AutoBikes. Get around real quick with this armor we''re lugging," Vinnie suggested loudly.

    "I''m going to follow the scanner ahead. I''ll do a quick scan," Isaac announced, moving to the side of the wall as they rested.

    "Henryk, I didn¡¯t finish explaining to you about the Executor role," Arthur proclaimed, pausing his stride to catch up to Henryk.

    "Huh? What about it?" replied Henryk.

    Isaac was huffing. "These scans don¡¯t make any real sense." He gazed at the cavern around them. Like the ones from before, there were only openings and just half-torso cement plates. Isaac held his own rifle, scanning the area with his sensors.

    "The Executor role isn¡¯t something that is offered very oftenly. There have only been six; you would be the seventh. There is great honor in such a thing, and you should be forever grateful for the life you¡¯ll have one day at Edward¡¯s side."

    "Wow, really, it¡¯s that prestigious?" Henryk''s grin widened.

    "Yes, even in the past. The Great Martian King would¡¯ve allowed someone like you many privileges. Well, that depends on the King. Some of those guys would¡¯ve forbidden drinking but would¡¯ve allowed heretical orgies in the tavern. Listen, it¡¯s an honor, and there is a real dark history involved within this role. Beware, and you are being rushed."

    Henryk¡¯s eyes went wide. Isaac scanned the area, and for a moment, his eyes widened. He thought he could¡¯ve seen something moving in the distance. Gripping his rifle, he slipped the scanner into his pocket and hefted his scoped rifle, gazing through the reticle, but he didn¡¯t see anything.

    "Edward believes in you," Arthur replied. "It¡¯s a good thing. You may receive your spikes sooner than others; it¡¯s safer that way. You¡¯re a quick study, even now. You''ve been a potshot with the range, and you carry your laser rifle well."

    Henryk smiled at that.

    "You are going to make an honorable Bannermen one day," Arthur continued, raising his hand. "Honor your lord, pray to the gods, and stay alive," he added more firmly. "You are talented, but you should''ve stayed on the ship. Fight hard, show us why Ed believes you''re different... but different may not be enough."

    Henryk snorted.

    "Let¡¯s see, Henryk," Arthur said. "How lucky you are."

    "How lucky I am, fucker. What the hell are even the spikes?" Henryk snapped angrily.

    But Arthur was silent. "You bastard, you just spat to me a bunch of secretive Martian jumbo. And now you expect me to believe you in all this. The spikes, and Ed¡¯s a lord!"

    Yet, Arthur stayed silent.

    Henryk continued. "So, you¡¯ll call me a brother, but you won¡¯t help me?" he prodded.

    And Arthur sighed. "Survive this mission, and maybe we¡¯ll¡­"

    Arthur reached to his shoulder. In a flash of an instant, there was blood and bone as the bullet pierced through the middle of Arthur¡¯s middle thumb and through two other fingers. However, the second one limply hung together in strands of sinews, muscle, and flesh.

    Arthur screamed, slumping to the side. Isaac cried out loudly as he spotted multiple red eyes¡ªno, red dots. ¡°Plutonian - 56, Plutonian - 56... 56!¡± screamed Isaac. ¡°Hit the fucking deck!¡± he snarled. Henryk seized Arthur, realizing the difference between the old plate and the other plates; this one had exposed fingers, possibly just an early model difference. Yet, that was a high caliber shot.

    More bullets swiftly followed as Henryk seized Arthur and threw themselves against the west side of the walls, Vinnie, and Isaac upon the North. Henryk dared to glance, and from the bullet hails and sparks, he saw the GrimGore¡¯s eternal smile. There were many of them.

    Henryk was frozen in shock, descending into a fit of surprised shock and eeriness. In an adrenaline frenzy, he realized that if he did not return fire, if he was not prepared to kill, he was going to die.

    And Henryk acted before they all did. He rose along the cover, angled his rifle to his shoulder, and Isaac watched with surprised shock. Gripping his rifle, even as its trigger was rusted, he let the weapon loose.

    ¡°A trap¡­ the fucker was a trap!¡± snapped Isaac.

    ¡°Serves us right for walking into this. We¡¯re better than this!¡± snapped Vinnie, rousing with a grenade and chucking it into the space between them. The GrimGore kept on shooting, but some ducked and dodged from the thrown grenade.

    This was the moment. Henryk still fired his laser rifle, the weapon expunging its spent battery. He clicked it off, slammed in another battery, sealing it in its cage. Breathing hard, nearly spitting, he lined an orange shot between a GrimGark¡¯s features, splashing laser straight through its nose. Henryk was thrown into fury and rage. Damn them, damn this alien filth. Humanity was alone in the universe, beset by threats in all manner of directions. The insects were only a wall.

    The grenade blew up, turning them into mincemeat. Henryk spotted one about to cock their own grenade, narrowed his eyes, and lined a shot through its stomach and then through its chest.

    ¡°Good shit, countryman!¡± snapped Arthur, and Vinnie raced towards his side.

    ¡°The squire is doing real good, Ser Vincent,¡± spoke Arthur.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah,¡± regarded Vinnie as he nursed his arm. ¡°We¡¯ll get a good amount of cash for this one. I¡¯m sure that Ed will allow you to get prosthetics.¡±

    Arthur smiled at that. ¡°That will be¡­acceptable.¡± But he still gazed down mournfully at his hand, now bandaged up, the pain dulled by the painkillers crafted by Vinnie. ¡°Where did you learn all this stuff from, Hospitaler?¡± regarded Arthur.

    Vinnie chuckled, dodging a stray bullet. ¡°Henryk, you¡¯ve got a grenade, fucking use it!¡± And Isaac slammed another large magazine into his gun.

    Isaac rose to gain coverage on Henryk, his side either dead or dying thanks to the mixture of his rifle and Vinnie¡¯s grenade. What sort of medic¡­ Knight Hospitaler utilized grenades? The Space Kind.

    Henryk cocked and threw his own grenade. They hid and erupted as they heard the sounds of pain arise from the GrimGore. ¡°Take that you alien fucks!¡± replied loudly Isaac, now rising in full courage as he took aim with his scoped rifle. The weapon found its mark, and Isaac still felt the biting pain, but this was a different type of pain.

    Isaac smirked as he felt the pain kick into his shoulder, one dead. Ripped apart from the top of its chest¡­not the neck, the neck and head of the GrimGore still remained but a large hole within its chest was missing. Isaac pivoted and the others followed.

    ¡°Reloading!¡± snapped Isaac.

    He unclicked the magazine protector, and the massive magazine slid out. He clicked in a new one and cocked it. ¡°Ai, we¡¯ve got them on the run!¡± snapped joyfully Vinnie, and they all rose and emptied their magazines into the fleeing alien creatures.

    Sweaty, anxious, but a thrill¡­ a triumphant thrill. They rose and cheered, clasped hands, and whooped into the air. They had battled and won. ¡°Good job, lads,¡± replied Henryk. And he anxiously and shakily fumbled with his magazine, unclicking the battery of the laser rifle as the spent cartridge collided to the ground.

    "Atta boy for your first assault," Isaac remarked, his eyes scanning the lifeless forms scattered around. "I can still remember mine," he added, his voice trailing off as if lost in the memories of past battles. "We hit them harder than us, but I can¡¯t say we had less or more casualties. It was a long while ago."

    Henryk nodded, his smile tinged with both relief and apprehension.

    "Henryk," Isaac called out again, his tone grave. "Don¡¯t give in to battle lust. It¡¯s easy to lose yourself, especially in your first fight. Find your rhythm, hone your skills, and learn from the experience. We''re guild missions, but I want us to function as a unit. Like Martians of old."

    "Good," Henryk replied, his voice shaky but determined. His gaze lingered on the GrimGars, thoughts of home and what might have been haunting him. He knew he had to steel himself, to see these creatures for what they were: enemies to be defeated.

    A distant engine roared in the darkness, drawing their attention. "What was that?" Arthur''s voice cut through the tension, while Vinnie finished tending to his injuries, already feeling the effects of the painkillers.

    Vinnie rose, fear evident in his eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "That''s a car?" he questioned, uncertainty lacing his words.

    Isaac understood the urgency. "We''ve got to make a decision: run or hold our ground," he declared, his voice urgent. "What do you think?"

    "Radio Ed and tell him we''re deviating from the mission path," Vinnie suggested.

    Henryk nodded, fingers fumbling with the radio. "Ed, Ed, Ed¡­" Static was his only response, and then the ground trembled beneath them.

    "What''s happening topside?" Isaac wondered aloud, but their attention was drawn to a growing light approaching from the darkness. "Get behind the barricades!" he ordered, urgency coloring his voice.

    Turning to his own comm, Isaac relayed orders. "Joseph, we need an exit. I¡¯ll send you our location, align it with your scouting data."

    Isaac produced his electronic device, his fingers flicking over the knobs and dials, sweat glistening on their features. A sickening feeling churned in Henryk¡¯s stomach as the lights momentarily enveloped them, casting eerie shadows against the cement barricades they hid behind within the strange tower. Darkness pressed in around them, but the light felt like a deceptive veil, especially as the clinking of turrets echoed in the distance.

    "Get down!" Henryk''s scream pierced the tension, his instincts driving him to action. He sensed the danger, felt Isaac reaching to pull him to safety, but Henryk tapped into his magical potential and soared.

    "Ol Nioh!" The incantation left his lips, his rifle abandoned as he raised both hands high. They watched in astonishment as the GrimGar''s bullets, destined for them, collided with a brilliant blue barrier.

    A massive wall of magical protection halted their advance, their shouts and roars drowned out by the chaos. The Sons of Mars returned fire, their shots piercing through Henryk¡¯s shield and striking the vehicles, but more threats were emerging, converging on them with deadly intent.

    "By the time we¡¯ve killed all these from my homeworld, their colony was already at 75%!" Arthur''s voice cut through the fray, his words heavy with bitterness.

    Isaac sneered, dropping a GrimGar with precise shots. "Henryk, how long can you hold on?" he shouted over the din.

    Henryk was sweating, his head throbbing with pain, his hands trembling beneath his gloves. He gritted his teeth against the agony, his magic straining under the relentless assault. With a howl, he unleashed his power, but Isaac knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough.

    "Oi, that¡¯s enough for me!" Isaac¡¯s smile was grim as he unleashed a barrage of fire upon the aliens, but still, they pressed on.

    Amidst the chaos, a lone GrimGar emerged, its figure ominous against the chaos. They were pinned down, their escape cut off, and now Henryk¡¯s magic was their last line of defense. But as the creature lifted its makeshift missile launcher, taking aim, the air crackled with impending danger.

    Henryk¡¯s mind shattered like glass, a searing pain gripping him as the shield crumbled before his eyes. He howled in agony, clutching his head as if trying to contain the explosion within.

    ¡°Someone grab Henryk!¡± Vinnie¡¯s voice sliced through the chaos, his pistol blazing as he unleashed fiery fury upon the encroaching enemy.

    Arthur, using his sword as a makeshift crutch, scanned the scene with grim determination. ¡°Guys, they¡¯ve found a way to reach us!¡± His words hung heavy in the air, a foreboding omen of their impending doom.

    Isaac sneered, reaching for the radio to call Joseph, but before he could make a move, the second missile struck. The cement platform beneath them cracked and groaned, its once-sturdy facade crumbling under the assault.

    With horror dawning on them, Arthur shouted, ¡°Henryk, get away from the middle!¡± But it was too late. With widened eyes, Henryk realized his peril as he plummeted into the darkness below.

    Reacting swiftly, Arthur leaped into action, propelled forward by sheer desperation. His good hand found purchase where Henryk¡¯s leg should have been, but it was futile. The word ¡°Help¡± hovered on his lips, a futile plea swallowed by the abyss.

    As Henryk tumbled, his screams echoed through the chamber, his power armor failing to shield him from the inevitable. Arthur could only watch helplessly as his comrade disappeared into the yawning void, a feeling of utter powerlessness consuming him.

    With clenched fists and a heart heavy with guilt, Arthur cursed under his breath. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, the words heavy with regret and sorrow. But amidst the chaos and the laughter of the GrimGar, there was only the grim realization that they were now truly alone in the dark.

 Chapter 31: The II RX - Bascinet

    Chapter 31: The II RX - Bascinet

    <hr>

    <u>Piper</u>

    In the confines of a small, box-like room, Piper found herself trapped, the dimensions reminiscent of a confessional chamber known to the old priests of Earth. It offered no view, just a solitary monitor at eye level, casting an eerie glow in the darkness.

    Piper lay against the cold metal, the features of Zephyr flickering on the screen, casting a pall over the dimly lit space.

    "Madam President, I assure you that the destruction of Jacen¡¯s pirates is progressing well," she sighed wearily. "Even with the loss of Lieutenant Lucas, I have managed to assume his leadership role."

    Zephyr, clad in a sharp suit, and the Madam President herself, donned a similar black dress with deep orange accents, their eyes fixed on the screen. White hair framed the President''s worn, grizzled features.

    "The loss of Marcus and Lucas is a tragedy¡­" she murmured solemnly.

    Piper''s eyes blazed with defiance. "They are not dead," she asserted firmly.

    As the President of Planet Mercury and its neighboring sectors, colonies, and midworlds, she continued, "I am not implying they are... However, the pacification of the sector must proceed swiftly. The capture of Marcus and Lucas is indeed a tragedy. But the eradication of this threat is paramount."

    "They''re just pirates," Piper interjected sharply.

    "Pirates who managed to outmaneuver..." Zephyr began, but Piper''s sharp look silenced him instantly.

    "Piper, this is not a debate on funding or command direction... We will be sending you a package soon, along with a group of new recruits," President Colemen interjected.

    Piper''s eyes widened, then she turned to Zephyr, who remained stoic.

    After a moment of silence, Piper inquired, "A package?"

    The President ignored her question, stating, "According to your reports, there remains one last lone command vessel. Destroy it, along with all of Jacen¡¯s Pirates. Then, Mercury will claim responsibility for eradicating the pirate interference within the sector."

    Piper''s eyes widened in realization. "...and how long have the pirates been plaguing the Oceana sector? I understand that the Martians haven¡¯t been maintaining order."

    The president''s silence hung heavy in the air, as Piper''s gaze remained fixed on the screen, her eyes ablaze with defiance. "So, do the greater houses of the universe only extend their aid to other planets when they stand to gain something?" she challenged.

    "Piper, you''re out of line," Zephyr interjected, but the president''s raised hand halted him. "It''s fine, Zephyr," she said. "The package is of Martian design. Use it well to accomplish the mission."

    Piper''s eyes widened with curiosity. "Martian design? What kind of weapon is this?"

    However, before she could receive an answer, the transmission began to falter. "Aw, you''ve got to be kidding me," Piper muttered, frustration evident as she slammed her hand against the console.

    "That''s all we need from you, Piper," the president''s voice crackled through the static. "Aim for the heart, strike true... forever and always. Only devils and demons can take a bullet to the heart. Have no fear in fighting your common man."

    Piper''s feed scrambled into static, her mismatched eyes glaring at the screen as she sighed and opened the door, exiting the room.

    Meanwhile, the President and Zephyr continued their conversation, the former lighting a smoke as Zephyr stood with hands clasped. "How long has she had that eye within her?" the president inquired.

    "For a long while... most definitely over a month," Zephyr replied.

    "Good," the president stated plainly. "Looks like the eye has accepted her. Keep me posted if anything else changes."

    Zephyr hesitated, and the president noticed. "You like this one, Zephyr?" she probed.

    Zephyr remained silent for a moment, then spoke. "Piper... even though she lost to Logan, Atticus, and the Wizard, she''s a great Warcasket pilot. You don''t know Piper like I do. She''ll throw away her life in that cursed mech suit."

    "You''re wrong about that," the president countered. "I do know Piper. I''ve read through her files, same as yours before assigning her this mission. Likewise, the same as the senate and the Vice. House Mercury can profit from the power Piper may unlock from that mobile suit..."

    Zephyr gritted his teeth, the president observing his reaction with a knowing smile as he composed himself.

    "You''ve always been a good one, Zephyr," the president murmured, her voice carrying a weight of history and expectation. "I knew that when you took up your position as leader of the Academy House. I knew you were going to be different."

    "Different?" Zephyr repeated, his tone laced with curiosity. "How?"

    "You didn''t have that wide-eyed innocence," spoke the president, her words weighted with the burden of leadership. "Maybe it''s because the majority of presidents arose from true Mercurian stock, with talks of heroes, freedom, and democracy..." She paused, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.

    "We don''t have much say on what goes on in the academy. Yes, we may be able to influence certain regards... but the academy has been around longer than our government. It''s just a way for us to train the exceptional of our society against all threats, sometimes external, and sometimes internal. After... the House Execution, you were the only one the position could go to," the president explained, her voice tinged with a sense of resignation.

    Zephyr gazed at her, absorbing her words. "The other three above me died... that''s why I got this position. It was luck that I was able to carve House Mercury back into a decent position at the academy. For a time, I thought we were just going to be the punching bags... or worse. Get the House Mars treatment."

    The president nodded in agreement. "Yes, but you are wrong... luck did not save House Mercury. It was you," she affirmed, offering him a smile. "You''ve got two more years till you''re done... you aren''t having any second thoughts."

    Zephyr''s features tightened with resolve. "I fought and clawed my way to this position. I won''t hesitate. Glory to the rings of Mercury."

    "Glory to the rings of Mercury," the president echoed, her tone lacking the same fervor as Zephyr''s. "You finish your next two years... and hopefully, this operation with Piper is a success."

    There was a moment of silence as Zephyr contemplated her words. "How do you do it, president... send people to their death?"

    The president sighed heavily at the weight of the question. "You''ve been doing it for years, Zephyr. Heck, Marcus and Lucas, Piper herself seemed more torn apart over them than..."

    "I am more realistic," Zephyr interjected, his voice firm.

    "...and that is what we need," the president agreed with a slight smirk. "A realist."

    She sighed deeply, her gaze distant. "You know, Zephyr... they''re the ones to sacrifice," she said, her eyes taking on a glossy sheen. "Gun-toting, democracy-loving, and bearing our orange with pride. They''re the perfect ones to sacrifice... those young and willing to die for our ideals. It''s horrible to say, but all nations must have their army, and we live in a universe where we are beset by the alien, the abomination, and even the machine. Our Emperor cannot breed... and the loss of his ARC means no more planets to be colonized or discovered. When he dies, everyone is going to be fighting for their pockets of land all throughout the solar system."

    Zephyr remained silent as the president''s words echoed in the room, carrying the weight of uncertainty and foreboding. "Like a bunch of rats locked within a great box," she rambled on, her voice tinged with a sense of impending doom. "Maybe not the first day they''ll descend upon one another, but the next day, the next month, the next year? That is what this cursed mobile suit is for. Let''s see if the Red Rocket will be able to bring that Martian relic back to life."

    "...and you think she will?" questioned Zephyr, his voice edged with skepticism. "How do you know she isn''t any different than the ones before?"

    The Madam President chuckled at his doubt. "Because she''s still alive."

    Meanwhile, Piper traversed the dimly lit halls, her gaze drawn to the vast expanse of space beyond the window, where the stars danced in the eternal twilight. A transport vessel approached, its sleek silhouette cutting through the void with purpose. Piper''s breath grew heavy as she felt the weight of responsibility settling upon her shoulders.

    "We need to get rid of that cursed thing!" shouted a member of the engineering team, their urgency echoing through the corridor.

    Piper''s heart raced as she pushed open the door with trembling hands, stepping into the hangar where a crowd had gathered. At the center stood Ernest, addressing the assembled group in their orange flight suits. Piper''s eyes swept over the recruits, most of whom appeared to be fresh-faced newcomers. Did Zephyr...?

    But Piper pushed aside her doubts for now, focusing on the task at hand. She approached Ernest with determined strides, the engineers parting to make way for her. As she reached the center of the hangar, she cut through the tension with her commanding presence.

    "Whatever that was, it''s over now," Piper declared firmly. "I want everyone back to doing what we need to be doing." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the recruits. "And get the recruits situated and properly placed. I asked Zephyr for more bodies... this lot doesn''t even look like they have their heads screwed on straight."

    Ernest''s eyes darted nervously over the crowd, noting the lackadaisical attitude of some of the recruits. As the youth laughed and snapped pictures, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, Ernest''s apprehension grew. The crowd dispersed, leaving only Piper standing before him, a silent reminder of the seriousness of their mission.

    "Ernest, what the hell," Piper''s words sliced through the tension like a blade.

    "What?" Ernest replied, taken aback. "Piper, you can''t..."

    "I don''t give a shit," Piper cut him off, her tone razor-sharp. She closed the distance between them, jabbing a finger harshly into his chest. "This whole mission was practically about finding Marcus and the rest. Lucas is gone, dead, or fucking worse... and now you''re out here trying to instigate a riot."

    Her words hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension crackling between them. Piper glanced around the hangar, relieved to see that no one was paying attention. She narrowed her eyes, fixing Ernest with a steely glare. "Lucas was from a MilAcademy. He knew what he was doing, and he was captured by these pirates. Time is of the essence. And the last thing we need is a riot."

    Ernest''s features hardened. "Piper, that''s not a normal warcasket..."

    Piper''s gaze shot upward, drawn to the ceiling where the larger warcaskets were stored. The vessel they were on, a medium-heavy class, had the capacity to hold more warcaskets, some of which were suspended in ceiling ports. Piper''s eyes widened as she circled the massive mech.

    "Whoa," she breathed, her gaze lingering on the imposing machine. "The Martians made this piece of art?" She turned back to Ernest. "But you told me before that they were blasted back into the past?"

    Ernest let out a snicker. "I also told you that their weapons and Warcaskets were strangely advanced," he replied, his tone grave as he joined Piper near the mech. "...and this killing machine is sure as shit advanced," he muttered under his breath.

    Piper had faced countless opponents during her time at the academy, encountering a wide array of mech designs and patterns. But this... this was something entirely new.

    "A fresh coat of paint in Mercurian loyalties cannot hide what that machine is," Ernest remarked.

    "...and what sort of machine is it?" questioned Piper, her voice barely above a whisper.

    Ernest closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before speaking. "I was reading the files before you came here. It was the second model of a long series of developments, the... The II RX ¨C Bascinet."

    As he uttered the name, Piper''s gaze remained fixed on the mech and its peculiar design. Bipedal, mid... medium, a hybrid between medium and heavy, this monstrous machine was shaped like a human. Compared to her previous suit, it was bulkier and larger, but that was merely the surface.

    What truly caught Piper''s attention were the mech''s legs and its unusual head design. The legs, especially below the knees and calves, appeared bulky and heavily armored. Thrusters adorned the heels and the entire length of the mech, hinting at its extraordinary maneuverability.

    Approaching closer, Piper addressed Ernest. "I want to get a better look at this thing."

    Despite the expected protests, Ernest let out a resigned sigh and went about his tasks. Moments later, a crane emerged from the wall, delicately placing the Warcasket in front of Piper.

    "What are the specs on this thing?" Piper inquired.

    Ernest gestured toward the craft. "The Mercurian Government wasn''t able to replicate it... it''s far too advanced. But the new paint job is likely a mix of repairs and attempts to reverse-engineer it."

    "No kidding," Piper murmured, her fingers tracing the sleek black surface as she examined the thrusters. "I''ve never seen so many thrusters on a Warcasket before, Ernest."

    Ernest shrugged. "Nor have I. The internal structure of the legs is unlike anything I''ve encountered." Piper ran her hand along the pipes of the leg, feeling the sturdy armor. "The leg armor is quite prominent... almost like a dress," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

    Ernest shot her a glance. "Funny, but the ''dress'' is extra armor plating... Scans show that additional fuel is stored within the legs."

    Piper''s eyes widened, and she turned to face him. "What about the main fuel?" she pressed.

    "In the craft," he replied. "But each leg has its own individual fuel source. The mech has tanks in the calves and thighs to extend the operating time of the legs'' propulsion devices."

    Piper was awestruck. "So, that means this mech is going to fly and be even quicker!" she exclaimed with reverence. "Imagine the maneuvers I can make with that thing."

    "Yeah," Ernest replied, his voice carrying a weight of uncertainty as Piper turned sharply towards him.

    "Engineer Ernest, is there something I have to know about this machine?" Piper''s voice held a note of urgency.

    Ernest fell silent, considering his response. "Well, maybe it''s best to show you."

    He strode purposefully toward his laptop, already connected to the mech with his blue wires trailing along the sleek metallic floor. With a series of button presses, the mech lowered its mechanical appendages, extending an eager hand to the floor.

    "What''s it doing?" Piper queried, her brow furrowing in confusion.

    Ernest shrugged, a faint smile playing at his lips. "The Martians have handlebars and a bunch..."

    "You''ve got to be kidding me," Piper interjected. "No ladders or anything?"

    "They were a military bunch, and when you think of it, it''s quite efficient," Ernest explained. "They can scale their mechs, have people hold onto them, and it''s quicker than it seems... I did it. Just be careful and mind your steps."

    Piper sighed and rolled up the cuffs of her flight suit. "Here goes nothing," she announced, bracing herself to scale the suit. To her surprise, it was less taxing than she had anticipated; the handlebars were conveniently placed, and the hand''s positioning made it easier to find her footing.

    As she ascended towards the chest where the cockpit should have been, Ernest''s voice interrupted her thoughts. "It''s not there," he said, pointing towards the head.

    "The head?" Piper echoed, puzzled. "But only old-school..."

    "The Martians deviated from the status quo," Ernest interjected. "The heart handles all the command functions. The head... well, if you get hit there..."

    Piper nodded, absorbing the information as she continued her climb towards the head. As she reached the designated spot, Ernest pressed a button, causing a piece of metal around the neck to chin area to open.

    "Strange head," she murmured, studying the Avien design as she slipped into the dark confines of the cockpit.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Inside, it was the size of a standard cockpit, made entirely of metal. For a moment, Piper expected something far more alien, given the way others talked about Martian technology.

    She settled into the chair. "Alright, all..." Her words trailed off as her eyes widened in awe and trepidation.

    "Ernest, there aren''t any controls," Piper remarked, her voice tinged with unease.

    In front of her lay only the abyssal darkness beyond the glass of the Warcasket viewport. All she could see was the chair, surrounded by what appeared to be bars along its edges. She reached out, her fingers grazing the rusted, worn metal, and pulled, finding herself effectively latched within the chair.

    "Whoa, awesome," she stuttered, casting a glance around the imposing piece of technology before her. But her gaze dared not delve into the shadows, into the murky depths of its past.

    "Piper, be careful in there," Ernest warned. "That vessel is cursed..."

    "Cursed," Piper repeated, her voice echoing slightly in the hollow chamber. She chuckled lightly as she tested her hand along the console¡ªa long, desk-like apparatus. However, there were no buttons, no holographic displays at her command. "Christ, Ernest... I was just speaking to the Madam President about this... how am I supposed to get this working?"

    "The President sent this to you!" Ernest''s voice cracked with urgency. "This death machine... Piper, come on, Lucas warned me about you and mechs."

    Piper''s chuckle faded, replaced by a tense silence. "Oh really, then, what did he say?"

    Ernest hesitated, his silence speaking volumes.

    "Come on," Piper pressed. "You brought up his name... come on, Ernest. I went solo out there and Lucas got captured!"

    "You were dealing with a warship," Ernest reminded her.

    "I messed up!" she shouted, slamming her hand against the console in frustration. "How the hell am I supposed to face my friends? How am I meant to convince my father that leaving home was the right choice?"

    "Piper," Ernest''s voice softened, a mixture of empathy and concern. "Piper, we''ve known each other for a long time. We''ve weathered tough times together. Marcus, Jeremiah, Todd, Eric... now Lucas. I want these bastards to pay, but I don''t want you to lose yourself. Don''t let these crude imitations rob you of your humanity."

    Piper''s glare pierced through the darkness beyond the viewports. "You think I choose to be disabled?" she spat with venom.

    "No," Ernest declared firmly. "Never, Piper. But Ed warned me that you were connecting to your Warcasket more frequently. I warned you about the cost, those nosebleeds..."

    Piper''s silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken tension. Ernest''s words lingered, a solemn reminder of the weight resting on her shoulders. "Lucas is gone, and the recruits will look to you. You''re famous over there, and we can''t afford to lose you," he emphasized, his voice tinged with both admiration and concern.

    A chuckle escaped Ernest, though it held a tremor of apprehension. "You''re our rocket," he proclaimed, his tone wavering slightly. "Wild, fiery, and reckless... perhaps too reckless. But that''s why you''re so good at what you do."

    Piper nodded, a sense of resignation coloring her features. "You''re right," she conceded, exhaling heavily. "I carry Henryk''s fury forever within me." Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against the artificial grey eye, wiping away the trails of hair that obscured it.

    "Why did you forgive him?" Ernest inquired, genuine curiosity lacing his words.

    A wistful smile danced across Piper''s lips. "Well, you see," she began, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "It was an accident, and I should''ve worn a helmet... but he played the piano so well."

    Ernest erupted into laughter at her unexpected response. "That''s certainly one reason to fight well with what you''ve got. You''ve got Lucas''s shoes to fill, after all..."

    Piper fell into a momentary silence, her hands coming to rest on a gap within the console, contemplating the slim opening as if it held the answers to her deepest questions. A sense of emptiness washed over her.

    "Before, you mentioned that your grandmother told you the Martians found a way to link to their machines," she interjected, her gaze drifting towards a peculiar rivet along the back of the machine, just below the throat.

    "Why?" Ernest inquired, his curiosity piqued.

    "I think I can find a way to connect," Piper replied, her voice tinged with determination. With a heavy breath, a smile crept onto her lips. "Do you still have the wires from before?"

    Ernest stared up at her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Piper, you can''t," he protested.

    "To infiltrate the enemy... to move against them," she mused, her eyes alight with a fierce determination. "With the power of this mech, who knows what I can be capable of."

    "Piper, there are lines you just don''t cross," Ernest cautioned, his voice filled with apprehension. "You''ll be risking your life out there for what? You''re already more than capable."

    "Not good enough to best Henryk in these shoddy mechs," she countered. "The Martians were renowned for their innovation... come on, let''s see if I can even connect to this thing."

    Ernest fell silent, a sense of foreboding settling over him.

    Piper''s voice sliced through the air, commanding attention and authority. "Ernest, you spoke of me filling Lucas''s shoes... There''s still time to save him, but the power I can unlock will decide his fate."

    Ernest hesitated, his protests faltering under Piper''s unwavering gaze. Reluctantly, he retrieved the cables, tossing them to Piper who caught them with a determined grip. With a steady hand, she connected one end to her eye, her movements betraying a subtle tremor as she hovered over the exposed port.

    "This is for them... to return to normal," Piper murmured, her voice tinged with resolve as she clicked the cable into place.

    Returning to her seat, Piper braced herself, a sense of anticipation coursing through her veins. "I''ve got a feeling this is going to hurt," she muttered, clenching her jaw as she settled into the chair.

    "Initiate," she declared, bracing for the surge of electricity. A burst of energy crackled through her, sending a jolt of warmth zipping along her frontal lobe. Her eyes widened, a primal shout escaping her lips as her body tensed against the onslaught.

    "Holy...!" Piper''s exclamation was swallowed by the hum of the mech powering to life. Blood trickled from her nose, a small sacrifice in the face of her newfound connection.

    Ernest''s voice cut through the chaos, his shout echoing within the confines of the cockpit as the viewport displayed a perfect combat lens before Piper. "Ernest, I got it to work!" she shouted, her triumph punctuated by the whoop of adrenaline.

    As Piper flexed the mech''s arm, a realization dawned upon her, mirrored by the widening eyes of Ernest. She controlled it with her thoughts alone.

    "This is insane!" Ernest''s disbelief reverberated through the cockpit, his head buried in his hands.

    With awe and trepidation, Piper manipulated the mech''s fingers, each movement an extension of her own will. It was an eerie sensation, controlling appendages that weren''t hers, yet it filled her with a sense of empowerment. But the most peculiar sensation emanated from her eye, or rather, the space where it used to reside. The mech made her feel whole again, as if her missing eye had been replaced by the machine''s sensory inputs.

    "If you were connected to the mech, your head is the mech''s head," Piper exclaimed, marveling at the realization. "Those stories your grandmother told you were true. The Martians could connect to their mechs."

    Ernest chuckled awkwardly, a sense of wonder mingling with his disbelief.

    Piper''s response was casual, her shoulders lifting in a nonchalant gesture. "I don''t know, Engineer Ernest," she declared, her words carrying a weight that made Ernest''s throat dry with apprehension. But then, with a sudden shift in demeanor, Piper''s voice reverberated with determination. "But I do know one thing," she declared, her confidence unwavering. "I want to sortie!" Her proclamation echoed through the chamber, punctuating the air with an electric intensity.Top of Form

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk emerged from the depths of unconsciousness into a world cloaked in darkness. The thick, oppressive void seemed to suffocate him, its weight pressing down on his chest like a suffocating shroud. Fumbling in the darkness, his hand sought the comforting weight of his laser rifle, drawing it forth with a desperate grip. Yet, even the weapon offered little solace in this abyss of despair. It was a darkness that consumed not just light, but hope itself.

    As his fingers tightened around the cold metal of his rifle, Henryk was overcome not by rage, but by an overwhelming sense of desolation. Lost and bewildered, he grappled with the chilling realization that this might be all that remained, an eternity of emptiness stretching out before him.

    Memories flooded his mind like shards of broken glass, piercing the veil of darkness. Images of home, of family, of his days at the academy flickered in his consciousness. Was this his fate? Did he... did he...

    In the midst of his turmoil, faces emerged from the shadows of his mind. Edward''s warm smile, Piper''s infectious laughter, and Sirine... Sirine, the princess. They danced before his eyes like specters of the past, haunting reminders of a life he feared he might never return to.

    Struggling to make sense of his fractured memories, Henryk''s grip faltered, and his rifle slipped from his grasp. "Momma..." His voice was a whisper lost in the darkness, a desperate plea for solace as he descended deeper into the abyss.

    A single memory emerged from the recesses of his mind, a fragment of a happier time. "Just one more picture, Henryk," his mother''s voice echoed in his ears, accompanied by the gentle sound of his sister''s laughter. "Hold still, Diana!"

    Henryk''s gaze drifted to his sister, her hands deftly working through his hair as she teased him with playful banter. A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips as he watched his mother fumble with an ancient camera, a cherished relic from a distant past. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Henryk found a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

    "Your duty, Diana," Henryk''s voice cut through the air, weighted with determination. "Take care of Mom while I''m away. You and Hannah have that responsibility now."

    Diana''s gaze faltered, caught off guard by the gravity of her brother''s words. "You''re the second oldest," Henryk continued, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that brooked no argument. "You''ve got to step up. I''m going to the academy to succeed. I promise, give me time. I''ll be embarking on real missions for the houses, venturing into uncharted territories."

    Her response came swift and sharp. "There''s politics between the houses, older brother."

    Henryk studied his sister''s face, their features mirroring their mother''s, yet each bearing a distinct intensity in their deep blue eyes. Eyes are power, he mused briefly, recalling the words of an ancient wizard.

    Diana''s glare held a fierce determination. At twelve years old, she faced her brother with a defiance that belied her youth. Henryk couldn''t shake the feeling that this might be the last time he saw her, but he pushed the thought away. Responsibilities demanded he press forward, regardless of the uncertainties that loomed.

    "I''ll be fine," Henryk replied curtly, rising to his feet and sweeping his hand through his hair, releasing its wild strands.

    "What are you doing?" Diana''s protest rang out, her frustration palpable. "All my hard work, for nothing!"

    Their mother intervened, her presence a blend of annoyance and pride. "What''s going on?" she asked, her hand resting gently on Henryk''s cheek. "We were trying to take a family picture."

    Henryk shook his head, a defiant smile playing on his lips. "The hair is power, Mom," he explained, running his fingers through his unruly locks. "It''s who I am. Like the picture of Dad. He wore his hair like this in his youth."

    A warm smile tugged at his mother''s lips. "Yes, he did," she agreed, casting a knowing glance at Diana. "Alright, fine," she relented, as Hannah protested in the background.

    "Hush now, child," Henryk''s mother soothed, turning her attention to Hannah. "I''ll let you play a bit longer on the game system before bed."

    As Hannah scampered off, Henryk turned back to Diana, his tone softened but resolute. "I won''t die, and I won''t get involved in anything crazy," he assured her. "This is Eris III, a MidWorld bordering on being a CoralWorld. It''s heavily guarded, with one of the most celebrated fleets in the system and a shield around the world. What do you think is going to happen?"

    Diana''s sneer persisted, but Henryk pressed on, his gaze unwavering. "Pirates, rebels, cults, or aliens. I''m not afraid, sis."

    Her glare intensified. "I''m not calling you a coward, Henryk. But I don''t trust those corpo or Venus-born trash, that..."

    "Hey, who told you to use that language?" Henryk''s voice cut through the tension, his tone sharp.

    "Huh?" Diana faltered, taken aback.

    "Don''t be calling other people that. It doesn''t matter where they come from," he admonished. "Where did you pick this up?" he prodded.

    "Billie Mary," Diana admitted reluctantly.

    "Alright," Henryk sighed. "What else is she saying?"

    Hannah hesitated before speaking. "She just says that the core-worlders are just trash...that we should succeed and that..."

    Henryk''s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "You shouldn''t listen to your friend''s foolishness," he interrupted, his voice stern.

    Diana met his gaze defiantly. "Henryk, the Emperor and the royal family..."

    He silenced her with a sharp look. "You''re not saying this around Mom. And you shouldn''t be associating with that girl anymore. She''s young, but out here, if she''s caught saying something like that..."

    Diana sighed, frustration etched into her features. "It''s never the right time," she countered. "When am I going to see you next? You could die out there, Henryk."

    "And I could gain glory," he retorted, his tone defiant. "Creed, honor, and glory. Who knows what I''m capable of?" He clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes blazing with determination. "I''ve always been a fighter, sis. Remember what happened all those years ago...I acted, I did what Dad would''ve done."

    "No, Henryk," Diana interjected softly.

    "Yes, Diana. My father saved everyone in this colony. Everything was built upon his sacrifice, and now I can honor him..."

    "Diana, you''re not your father," Diania''s voice cut through the darkness, firm and unwavering. "The debt you feel is imagined, Henryk. There''s no guilt, no obligation."

    Henryk''s gaze lingered on his sister as his mother hurried to fetch the camera. Timing it perfectly as Diana rushed into his arms. "Hi, Hen," he whispered.

    They embraced tightly, posing for the photograph as his mother hurried over. The camera clicked twice, capturing a moment frozen in time. One copy for them, another for him, perhaps still on that transport vessel. It was a precious memory, his last with them...hopefully, his sister would remember it more than his fate on a distant world, lost in darkness. Briefly, his mind wandered to Sirine, to Piper, but he pushed the thoughts aside. There was no point in dwelling.

    Reluctantly, Henryk let go...

    "HENRYK!"

    A blaze of fire erupted before him. The Peyton, its light casting a harsh glow, its eyes burning with renewed vigor as it stood watch. Henryk''s gaze flickered to the Peyton''s spine, its bones jutting out like a macabre crown, reminiscent of the ''Sons of Mars.'' Why was he...where was he?

    The fire, the light! It jolted him awake, pushing back the exhaustion even as he felt himself sinking. The Peyton loomed above him, its gaze piercing. Its features, once animalistic, now contorted into a semblance of humanity, like a man wearing a mask of flesh. "What were you thinking?"

    Henryk glared up at it. "Huh?" he muttered.

    "You were about to give up!" The Peyton snapped. "Never, never, never...do that. You were ready to throw your life away!"

    "I''m dead," Henryk stated flatly.

    The Peyton''s gaze hardened. "Yes," it replied solemnly. "But your soul hasn''t found rest. You''re in the in-between. And perhaps, if you''re fortunate," it paused, casting a glance over its alien form. "My sons are in these caves. I wonder if they''ll find you, or if you''ll join the ranks of the forgotten, a talented young man, amounting to nothing in the end."

    Henryk''s sneer cut through the darkness. "You talk too much," he scoffed, his exhaustion draining away as he surveyed his surroundings. He recognized where he was now¡ªdeath. Clutching desperately at the darkness, he sought something, anything, to anchor himself, but found only the slow descent through the gray clouds, guided by the rays of the Peyton.

    The Peyton chuckled, its voice echoing ominously. "You''re the last to speak of insolence," it retorted, tilting its head forward. "Turn around, Henryk. Look at the darkness you were about to embrace willingly." Its features contorted into a twisted smile, almost human.

    Slowly, Henryk obeyed, and what he saw made his blood run cold. A howl of fear escaped his lips as he gazed into the abyss beneath him. "Why are you showing me this?" he screamed, trying to push himself away, but realizing with horror that he was only sinking further.

    The hands reached for him, their dark eyes and ragged clothes a haunting sight. "What are they?" Henryk questioned, his voice trembling.

    The Peyton glanced down. "Souls like yours, whose will demanded that their business was unfinished. Perhaps one day, they''ll return to Earth, reaping and sowing. The dead crave life, Henryk, always. The Witches of Jupiter believe in such things."

    He gestured toward the pile of souls. "That''s how they believe the universe will end, Henryk."

    Henryk stared down, his heart heavy with dread. "Am I going to become like one of them?" he asked.

    The Peyton remained silent.

    As he approached, the souls cheered, their hollow laughter echoing in the darkness. "They''re laughing, they''re enjoying this," Henryk observed.

    The Peyton sneered. "Do you desire to live?"

    "Of course," Henryk snapped. "I have much to do back there."

    Then, Henryk paused, fixing the Peyton with a piercing gaze. "Who are you?" he demanded.

    The Peyton met his gaze, and Henryk held his ground. "I am not a fool," he declared, raising his arm. "In the dream, you took my blood. I don''t know why or how, but I was taught by tutors the importance of witch parts. You don''t let a man own something that grows on you."

    The Peyton nodded slowly, a glint of admiration in its eyes. "Clever. Not many people, not even sorcerers, understand how important that is," it remarked, tilting its head toward Henryk. "Is that why you burn your hair when you cut it?"

    Henryk met its gaze. "It''s safer that way, especially at the Academy. All the tenants from House Jupiter are witches. I''ve encountered them a few times before."

    As Henryk began to rise, he couldn''t help but inquire, "Is this your doing?"

    The Peyton smirked and chuckled. "No, my sons. But Henryk, don''t let this happen again. You have a dominating soul, a fiery soul, and that is what is needed for the times ahead."

    Suddenly, Henryk was engulfed in a bright, powerful light.

    "Hold to the light, Henryk. Remember the teachings of your tutors, the rules of your mother, and the lessons of all those who have trained and honed your skills. And trust in the Sons of Mars."

    Henryk snapped his head, remembering the spikes. "Who are you?" he demanded again. "Why are you helping me?"

    Then, there was nothing. And then, there was everything.

    It came like a shell-shocked flashbang. Darkness, then light. Henryk was thrust upward, water pouring from his mouth as unfamiliar hands steadied him on unsteady ground.

    "He''s breathing!" someone shouted nearby. Henryk''s gaze fell on his rifle, lying within arm''s reach.

    Footsteps approached, and Gerald''s voice cut through the chaos. "You have a knack for announcing yourself, Henryk Brown," he remarked, kneeling to meet Henryk eye to eye. Then Henryk gazed around, and witnessed Squad Pluto in there military glory.

    <u>Piper</u>

    "Only five minutes out there, Piper, in and out," Ernest''s voice echoed sternly through the radio.

    Inside the mech, Piper bobbed her head to Henryk''s music, her helmet enclosing her senses as she peered through the viewport. The clamps tightened, sending vibrations through her and the mech as its armaments clicked into place, alien to her eyes.

    "Are you controlling them?" Ernest''s inquiry cut through the tension.

    "Yep," Piper replied, her gaze narrowing as she gripped two mech assault rifles, their design reminiscent of ancient Ak-47s but now heavily modified with dual drum magazines. A massive propulsion tank was secured to her back, while a scabbard gleaming with an ethereal blue shimmer held a blade along her thigh. In her right hand, she wielded a missile launcher with an extended magazine.

    "How does it feel?" Ernest''s voice was tinged with tentative curiosity.

    Piper shrugged, feeling the weight of the machine''s power resonating within her subconscious. "Like arms in the back of my mind, like my subconscious," she murmured.

    "Like a gorgon," Ernest remarked, invoking ancient mythology.

    Piper''s mind flickered with the imagery, the power of the machine echoing the mythical creature. "Like a gorgon," she echoed softly, a determination settling within her as the viewport opened to reveal the vast expanse of space.

    "I am ready," she declared, her mind flashing to memories of her father''s screams, her mother''s tears, and the weight of responsibility she now bore. "It had to all mean something... I will fill in their shoes." With a mental command, she willed the machine into motion.

    With a snapping hiss, the cable released, and the ship detached from the warcasket, burning orange fuel propelling her into the cosmos. Sweat glistened on her brow as she soared, recruits below pointing at her blazing trail like an orange comet.

    "Woo... hooo!" Piper''s exhilarated cry pierced the void as she soared, cutting through the black cosmos, her¡­the mech arms outstretched, the rush of speed akin to wind against her face. Memories flooded her mind, from a carefree girl on a beach to the determined woman she had become, with thoughts of Henryk in the music hall spurring her on.

    "Only I can fly high enough!" she shouted defiantly, maneuvering skillfully around an asteroid, unleashing her bazooka with precision.

    "This was a good trade for one eye!" Her triumphant declaration reverberated through the cockpit, leaving Ernest wide-eyed with astonishment.

    Piper unleashed the full force of her special bazooka, shattering an asteroid into a shower of space debris that glittered like a cosmic storm. With nimble precision, she sliced through the void, navigating past colossal chunks of wreckage, remnants of forgotten vessels adrift in the darkness.

    "Piper, be¡ª" Ernest''s warning was cut short as Piper plunged headlong into the heart of a massive debris field, his frustration palpable in the air.

    Unfazed by Ernest''s exasperation, Piper hurtled through the ship''s narrow corridors, her powerful engines igniting rusted metal into fiery trails behind her. With each twist and turn, regret began to gnaw at her, the perilous dance through the decaying vessel growing increasingly treacherous.

    "Oh, shit," Piper muttered under her breath, her heart racing as she careened through the ship''s labyrinthine passages.

    "Are you okay, Piper?" Ernest''s voice crackled over the radio, concern lacing his words.

    A section of the ship''s roof gave way, but Piper deftly maneuvered, narrowly avoiding disaster as she burst through the opening, her shoulder shield absorbing the impact with a resounding clang. Emerging into the hangar, she laughed triumphantly, the exhilaration of the chase coursing through her veins.

    "Five minutes!" Ernest''s voice echoed, barely audible over Piper''s laughter, as she made her way steadily toward the waiting mech, determination etched into every step.

    "E-Ernest," Piper''s voice crackled over the radio, a note of urgency creeping in.

    Ernest rushed to the mech, flinging open the door as Piper''s voice came through again, slower this time, tinged with exhaustion. "I-I am alright now," she reassured him, attempting to muster a smile.

    But when Ernest reached her, all he saw was a haunting scene of crimson, blood cascading from her nose, a ghostly blue wire trailing from her damaged eye and still connected to the console.

    "P-Piper..." Ernest''s voice caught in his throat as Piper collapsed into his arms.

    Trembling, Ernest held her close, his gaze shifting from Piper to the monstrous machine before him. In that chilling moment, he realized the true cost of their desperate mission¡ªthe machine that threatened to devour not only their bodies but their very souls.

 Chapter 32 - Only I Can Fly High Enough

    Chapter 32 - Only I Can Fly High Enough

    <hr>

    <u>The Ensign</u>

    The Ensign''s fists bore the marks of violence, blood staining his knuckles as he loomed over Lucas, a sight of dishevelment and agony. Lucas, bound to the chair, bore the signs of brutal interrogation: his hair unkempt, eyes swollen shut, bruises painting his skin in shades of purple. Rope dug into his flesh, blood oozing from his mouth, a tooth dislodged from its gum.

    "Where?" The Ensign''s voice thundered, punctuated by the force of his boot crashing into Lucas''s chest, sending him crashing to the metal floor, the chair splintering under the impact. Lucas lay sprawled, gasping for air amid the pain, thoughts drifting to his friends, Marcus foremost among them. Would he ever see them again?

    The Ensign loomed over him, a menacing figure in the dim light of the room. "Don''t think I won''t hesitate to kill you, boy," he warned, his words dripping with malice. Lucas struggled to rise, his resolve battling against the agony coursing through his battered body, his mind clinging to memories of happier times, his friend''s smile a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

    "I will break you," the Ensign vowed, seizing Lucas''s hair in a cruel grip. "You kids have gotten in our way. I won''t die at the hands of some academy brats," he spat, his contempt palpable. "Now, the codes...or the pain will only escalate," he threatened, his demeanor shifting, a sinister smile twisting his lips.

    Lucas met his gaze, defiance flickering in his eyes even as tears welled and sweat beaded on his brow. "Fuck you," he murmured, a bitter laugh escaping his lips before a wave of agony engulfed him, blood staining the Ensign''s face.

    "Ah, the hard way it is," the Ensign remarked, shedding his jacket with a predatory grin before descending upon Lucas with renewed brutality.

    Outside, Private Moreno''s vigil was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoing through the hallway. Alertness flooded his senses as he rushed to investigate, the door swinging open to reveal a scene of horror. "What the hell..." he breathed, stunned by the grisly tableau before him.

    Blood, like a macabre mural, adorned the brown rust of the wall, a testament to the violence that had unfolded. Lucas, once vibrant and full of life, now lay naked and broken, his body slumped against the unforgiving metal, a grotesque cavity in his skull.

    The Ensign stood resolute, his posture rigid, the weight of his actions hanging heavy in the air. His hands, still tingling with the echo of the firearm''s recoil, betrayed no hint of remorse as he holstered the weapon and began to don his military attire. Each movement was deliberate, methodical, a stark contrast to the chaos he had wrought.

    Moreno''s gaze remained fixed on the grisly scene before him, disbelief etched into every line of his face. "W-why?" he stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock and horror.

    "Why?" echoed the Ensign, his tone devoid of remorse. "Because he served his purpose."

    "You brutalized him, and now you...you just discard him?" Moreno''s voice dripped with contempt, his eyes blazing with anger as he confronted the Ensign.

    The Ensign''s lips curled into a sinister smile. "We don''t need him anymore," he stated matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering. "And besides, I''ve already gleaned everything I need from him. Seconds before I ended his life."

    Disgust twisted Moreno''s features as he struggled to comprehend the callousness of the Ensign''s actions. "I didn''t realize you were..." he began, his words trailing off as he searched for the right term.

    "A bad man?" the Ensign finished for him, his voice laced with amusement. "We''re pirates, Private Moreno. Let''s not pretend otherwise."

    Moreno tore his gaze away from the grisly sight, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the horror. The Ensign''s laughter cut through the silence like a knife, a chilling reminder of the brutality that lurked beneath the surface.

    "A Warcasket changes things, doesn''t it?" the Ensign mused, his tone tinged with mockery. "It''s easy to play the hero from behind your fancy desk, but when you''re faced with the reality of life and death..."

    Moreno remained silent, his jaw clenched in frustration as he struggled to come to terms with the grim reality of their existence. The Ensign''s words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked within their midst.

    "It''s best that you remember that," the Ensign continued, his tone a warning. "And as for your earlier trivial arguments with me...well, let''s just say the Captain won''t always be around to protect you. At his age, accidents can happen all too easily."

    The Ensign''s footsteps echoed ominously in the desolate hold as he made his way towards the door, eager to escape the oppressive silence that hung thick in the air. He moved with a hurried urgency, a palpable unease gripping him as he sought to put distance between himself and the gruesome scene behind him.

    As he reached the threshold, a shiver ran down Moreno''s spine at the sound of the Ensign''s voice, a sinister melody that sent a chill coursing through his veins. The Ensign''s words lingered in the air like a sinister refrain, each syllable dripping with a malevolent intent that sent a shudder down Moreno''s spine.

    "Would you believe me if I told you...that he asked for that?" the Ensign''s voice was laced with a sickening mixture of amusement and cruelty. "It was a mercy after what I did to him."

    With a sense of foreboding, the doors sealed shut, trapping Moreno in the suffocating darkness of the hold. The Ensign''s words echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the darkness that lurked within the hearts of men.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper found herself immersed in Lucas''s cramped dorm, the air thick with the melodies of a jazzy album that reverberated from the speakers he had installed. Despite being a Lieutenant, he was relegated to a small, closet-sized space, barely enough to accommodate a desk, bed, and a meager storage compartment nestled within.

    Her gaze drifted to the desk, where Lucas''s brown flight jacket hung snugly, waiting for its owner''s return. Amidst scattered homework assignments from the academy, Piper couldn''t help but smirk at the juxtaposition of scholarly pursuits against the backdrop of their perilous mission on the fringes of space.

    But her amusement faded as she focused on a series of taped-up photos resting on the desk. They chronicled their travels through lush forests, unforgiving deserts, and vast water worlds. Yet, it was a particular photo that drew her attention¡ªa snapshot from their younger years, featuring Margaret, herself, Lucas, Piper, and the rest of their house, with Zephyr even making an appearance. Piper, with her green eyes, peered out from the emergency hatch of her orange mech.

    As she studied the photos, a bittersweet smile tugged at Piper''s lips. "We''ll return to those days, Lucas," she whispered softly. "I''ll step into your shoes...there''s still time."

    The irony of her words hung heavy in the air, overshadowed by the reality of their precarious situation. Suddenly, the ship trembled beneath her feet, sending a subtle shiver down her spine. Piper''s breath caught in her throat as a more violent tremor rocked the room, forcing her to cling to the walls for stability.

    As Piper''s eyes widened, the room was bathed in a swirling cascade of lights emanating from the window, casting an eerie glow across the horizon. The sight sent a shiver down her spine as she struggled to maintain her balance.

    Her radio crackled to life, Ernest''s urgent voice cutting through the chaos. Other voices clamored in the background, frantic and disorganized, adding to the sense of impending danger.

    "What''s happening?" Piper''s voice rose above the din, desperation tinged with fear.

    Ernest''s response was strained. "We''re under attack!" His words hit like a thunderclap. "Multiple enemy Warcaskets closing in from the right port. How the hell did they slip past our scouts?" His tone was laced with disbelief and alarm.

    Amidst the chaos, Piper seized control, her voice commanding attention over the commotion. "Listen up, everyone!" Her words cut through the frenzy, commanding obedience. "All Warcasket pilots, prepare for immediate launch. Engineers and support staff, man your battle stations."

    Ernest''s breath came in ragged gasps. "But Piper, most of us are engineers and¡ª"

    Piper''s interruption was swift and decisive. "You and everyone else received Mercurian Battle training. Now''s the time to put it to use."

    "Yes, ma''am," Ernest grumbled reluctantly. "At once, everyone, to your stations!"

    A determined smirk tugged at Piper''s lips as she swung open Lucas''s door, leading the charge. Her gaze swept over the crew of House Mercury, scrambling to heed her command. They rushed to don their pilot attire, a sense of urgency propelling them forward.

    Ernest rallied his crew in the hangar, his voice cutting through the tension. "You heard the lady!" he bellowed, a hint of reluctance in his tone. "This is why we''re here¡ªto defend our house and our honor."

    But amidst the fervor, a voice pierced through, soft and trembling with fear. A young girl, tears streaming down her cheeks, sought solace in the arms of a male friend.

    "I don''t want to die," she sobbed.

    Ernest''s response was gentle yet firm. "I know," he murmured, his voice tinged with empathy. "But it''s our duty to fight back against these invaders."

    As Piper stood firm, a formidable battalion of twenty-five Mercurian pilots stood behind her, a silent force braced for battle.

    Ernest''s gaze swept over the assembly, his resolve steeling with each passing moment. "Get those pilots and their Warcaskets ready," he commanded, his voice echoing through the chaos. "This is a fight for survival¡ªthem or us." The ship shuddered violently, flames erupting from the ceiling like fiery tongues licking the air.

    "Piper!" Her name sliced through the tumult, a desperate plea in the midst of chaos.

    Ernest waved off her concern. "I''ll have one of the juniors handle it," he declared, his eyes fixed on the task at hand. "But the rest of you, prepare yourselves!"

    Piper rushed to join him, her pilots following in her wake. They were a diverse group, clad in the standardized Mercurian gear, each bearing their own array of weaponry¡ªassault rifles, melee weapons, bazookas, grenades. But there were five among them who stood out, their equipment adorned with strange and formidable additions. One of them, a young man, slipped into a Warcasket fitted with a massive tank cannon on his shoulder.

    "Prepare for deployment!" he cried out, his voice ringing with determination as the Warcaskets, their visors gleaming like trident guards, were fueled and launched into the fray.

    Following his lead, the squad of four scrambled into action, their Warcaskets leaving trails of orange sulfur in their wake. Bullets and missiles streaked through the air as they dove headfirst into battle.

    "Orange Rocket here!" the young man''s voice crackled over the comms. "I''ve spotted their command vessel!"

    "Good," Piper responded tersely, her attention torn between the chaos around her and the dormant eye of her own Warcasket. Another violent tremor shook the ship, threatening to throw her off balance as she scrambled towards her mech.

    "Piper!" Ernest''s voice cut through the chaos, a note of urgency in his tone. But Piper''s focus remained unwavering, her gaze fixed on the silent sentinel before her, her hands clenched into fists of determination.

    "Our people are out there dying," she declared, her voice carrying the weight of their collective struggle. Then, with a determined resolve, she turned her gaze towards the looming enemy mech.

    "Piper," Ernest''s voice cut through the tension, filled with concern. "You can''t¡ª"

    "I''ve been out there," she interrupted, her tone firm yet tinged with weariness. "Five minutes, and already nosebleeds. I''ve faced worse."

    Ernest''s protests fell on deaf ears as Piper stood before the Martian mech, a formidable presence amidst the chaos. Ernest approached, his urgency palpable as he pleaded with her to reconsider.

    "Piper, you have to see reason," he implored, his words laced with desperation. "Humans and mechs weren''t meant to merge like this. It''s not natural. And with that eye of yours connected to another mech¡ªdo you feel it?"

    Piper remained silent, her gaze fixed on the enemy looming before her. Another explosion rocked the ship, flames dancing in the air as Ernest sought cover.

    "People are dying out there, Ernest," Piper declared, her voice unwavering. "This suit, cursed as it may be, can turn the tide of battle in an instant. Are you going to deny me that chance?"

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Ernest faltered, his arguments crumbling in the face of Piper''s determination. "But how do you know you''ll survive?" he pressed, his fear for her safety laid bare. "What if you don''t come back? Then we''ll all be¡ª"

    Piper''s smirk cut through his words like a blade, her fiery spirit unyielding. Memories of conversations with Henryk flooded her mind, filling her with a fierce confidence.

    "I know," she declared, her voice ringing with certainty. With a defiant gleam in her eyes, she turned to face Ernest, her red hair ablaze like a phoenix reborn. "Because only I can fly high enough.¡±

    <u>The Ensign</u>

    The Ensign and Travis streaked across the expanse of the Mercurian vessel, their rusty bazookas tearing through the metal with devastating force. Inside, the youth scrambled to their stations, screams mingling with the captain''s booming commands over the vox.

    "Damn, we caught them with their pants down, didn''t we, Ensign?" Moreno''s voice crackled over the chaos as he deftly maneuvered his mech, his steel blade cleaving through enemy mechs with deadly precision. Bullets whizzed past him as he returned fire with his assault rifle, the bursts tearing through their adversaries.

    The Ensign paused, assessing the situation. "Their shields are holding," he observed, his gaze shifting to the imposing command tower of the enemy ship. A smile tugged at his lips as he surveyed the unfolding battle from the viewport of his warcasket.

    With a salvaged arm pack and a makeshift axe in hand, the Ensign danced through the fray, dodging blows and delivering devastating strikes. Amidst the chaos, a voice crackled over the radio, but it was drowned out by the thunder of explosions and the roar of battle.

    "It''s a hell of a fight!" Moreno''s cocky laugh echoed through the commotion as he joined the fray with his bazooka in hand.

    The Ensign snorted. "Adding numbers with that last battalion?" he remarked dryly, his focus unwavering as he pressed on towards the enemy command center. "This is a last gamble at best."

    Moreno''s gaze flicked to the Ensign, his expression grim. "Luckily, we had Lucas''s intel," he replied, his tone tinged with dark humor. "It''s either victory or death."

    Suddenly, a bazooka blast from the Ensign jolted Moreno back to attention, and he plunged back into the thick of battle. Meanwhile, the Ensign deftly dodged a hail of bullets, realizing too late that they were encased in a glass enclosure dotted with gatling turrets.

    "Die, pirate!" Ernest''s voice cut through the chaos, his shots echoing into the void of space. The Ensign''s gaze flickered to the incoming shells, his reflexes kicking in as he directed his fire downward, striking the side of Ernest''s turret.

    The ceiling collapsed around Ernest, flames engulfing him as he was violently ejected from his seat. His scream pierced the air as he was thrown amidst the fiery wreckage. Meanwhile, the Ensign maneuvered swiftly, dodging the haphazard barrage from the inexperienced crew.

    Beneath the command vessel, the Ensign steadied his aim, intent on ending the battle by taking out the captain. But before he could fire, a urgent voice shattered the tension.

    "Ensign, we need you now!" Moreno''s voice crackled over the chaos, drawing the Ensign''s attention to their own command vessel. A distant explosion rocked the ship, sending shockwaves rippling through its hull.

    From the midst of the chaos emerged a blazing orange comet, streaking through the breached hull with malevolent purpose. Rockets followed, embedding themselves into the ship as it was overrun.

    "Fools on the turret!" The Ensign''s voice dripped with anger as he unleashed a barrage of fire towards his own vessel. Time was against them, with the enemy swiftly gaining the upper hand.

    "We''re trying!" Another voice chimed in, gunfire echoing in the background. "It''s too fast!" The voice was abruptly cut off by an explosion.

    With every ounce of determination, the Ensign unleashed his rockets, while below him the Mercurians fought fiercely. But this unexpected turn threatened to tip the scales of the battle irreversibly.

    "Private Moreno!" The Ensign''s voice rang out, urgent and commanding.

    "Reporting!" Moreno''s response came, amidst the cacophony of gunfire from his warcasket.

    "We lose the command vessel, we lose the battle... and our lives!" The Ensign''s words carried a weight of desperation. Failure was not an option.

    "I''m doing my best!" Moreno shouted back, but doubt lingered in his voice.

    The Ensign inched closer to his mic. ¡°If you fail, I¡¯ll make it my mission to find whatever hell you crawl into after battle. You will never be safe, and, when I find you¡­ I¡¯ll do to Lucas, to you. You were never my favorite.¡± And he shut off his comms and beamed forth towards the encroaching battle.

    <u>Piper</u>

    The battlefield was a chaotic dance of debris, a testament to the ferocity of space battles. But amidst the swirling fragments of shattered vessels, Piper cared little for cover. She soared forward, a streak of orange amidst the darkness, blood trickling from her nose, the false eye pulsing with electric blue.

    "This is true power!" Piper''s exultant cry echoed in the void as she deftly maneuvered around obstacles with inhuman precision. Her mind flashed to faces from the past - Logan, Atticus, Henryk - eager to showcase her newfound abilities upon her return to the academy.

    As she raced past her comrades and darted among enemy warcaskets, Piper jettisoned her propulsion tank. The enemy pilots pointed and shouted, but she was a blur, too swift to be caught. With a smirk, she homed in on the enemy hangar, left vulnerably open.

    The realization dawned on the enemy too late, their panicked chatter audible over the radio. With a widening grin and blood staining her jacket, Piper burst into the hangar, sparks trailing in her wake. The crew froze in terror as she calmly declared, "Found you."

    With ruthless efficiency, Piper unleashed her bazooka, a weapon of unknown origin loaded with ten rockets. Metal crumpled beneath the onslaught as she targeted engineers and crew alike. Then, turning her attention to the enemy warcaskets, she unleashed a barrage of firepower, determined to turn the tide of battle in her favor.

    An explosion roared, engulfing Piper''s view in a fiery inferno. From the flames emerged her mech, rising like a phoenix from the ashes.

    "Is that you, Piper?" The familiar voice called out.

    Piper chuckled. "Yep."

    The boy laughed. "Looks like our ace is a warship sinker now."

    Piper''s laughter echoed again. "Keep up the good work," she encouraged before maneuvering her mech around the vessel, unleashing destruction upon its hull.

    Explosions rocked the ship, the captain desperately trying to maintain control amidst the chaos. "We can''t take any more structural damage!" a lieutenant screamed as flames licked at the viewport.

    "We''ve lost all engines and power is fading fast!" another voice joined in the frantic cacophony.

    Gritting his teeth, the commander braced himself against the controls. Through the flames, Piper''s orange thrusters blazed, heralding another onslaught. With a final barrage of rockets, the vessel teetered on the brink of collapse.

    As fires raged and crew members were engulfed, Piper charged forward, her mech''s arms becoming instruments of destruction. AK-47s blazed, bullets tearing through the command tower and crew. With a thunderous explosion, Piper''s mech leaped, propelled by crashing legs, and she soared away from the blast.

    Breathless and flushed, Piper''s grip tightened on her weapon as she surveyed the aftermath. "Ernest, is that you?" a voice crackled over the radio.

    Her eyes widened. "Ernest!" Relief flooded her voice. "You''re okay!"

    He chuckled weakly. "Got some bad burns, but they''ll make good stories. You took out that flagship... How are you holding up?"

    Piper unfastened her helmet, feeling the weight of a cold puddle forming along her chin. A shiver threatened to overtake her, but she suppressed it. "I''m fine," she declared, though she could taste the metallic tang of blood. "Just a nosebleed. I still have a few minutes left before I need to return."

    Ernest''s silence was punctuated by the rapid clattering of keys. "Piper, we have two inbound and more on the way," he informed her urgently. "They''re the ones we''ve been wary of. They move faster than the rest."

    Examining her helmet, Piper grimaced at the sight of blood obscuring her vision. She wiped her nose and stripped off her flight suit, revealing a white tank top beneath. With practiced efficiency, she tied her hair into a ponytail.

    "Piper?" Ernest''s voice broke the silence.

    Piper continued her preparations in silence, stuffing the suit into the mech''s pocket. "Ernest, I appreciate your concern, but I''ve got this," she reassured him. "I can''t handle your voice and theirs right now."

    Ernest''s response was soft but encouraging. "Then go get them, Piper. Good hunting." With that, he signed off.

    As the approaching threats came into view, Piper steadied her breath and closed her eyes. She was fighting for her comrades¡ªfor Margaret, Lucas, Eric, and the others. Justice demanded retribution, a debt to be repaid in full.

    Throttling toward her adversaries, Piper whispered a prayer. "Grant me your strength, Eye. Warcasket of Mars, lend me your power!" Her voice echoed in the vastness of space.

    Drawing closer to the enemy, Piper was struck by an unexpected response¡ªa voice, ancient and ethereal, echoing in her mind.

    "You are not my master," it declared, a chorus of ages reverberating within its timbre. The words stirred memories of Ernest''s grandmother and her tales of the supernatural.

    "Do you believe in ghosts?" she had once asked him, laughing at his earnest response. Now, facing the unknown, Piper couldn''t help but wonder if there was more to those stories than she had ever imagined.

    The clash was brutal and relentless. The Ensign wielded his axe with lethal precision while balancing the weight of a bazooka in his other hand. Opposite him, Private Moreno descended with dual machine guns, salvaged remnants of a bygone era.

    Amidst the chaos of battle, they momentarily disengaged. Piper''s attention was drawn to a ping on her console, a faint signal cutting through the din of combat. She raised her eyes to a small, antiquated monitor, displaying grainy footage of two men. Questions surged through her mind¡ªwasn''t Mars a feudal world? And what of Henryk, the enigmatic interloper who might hold answers?

    "What''s wrong with your eye?" The Ensign''s voice cut through the tension, his tone sharp and probing.

    Piper recoiled at the question, her silence betraying the turmoil within her.

    Moreno''s voice dripped with scorn. "Deaf, ginger, or just retarded?" he taunted, a cruel laugh punctuating his words. "You''ve got a lot of blood on your hands, bitch. How many of my friends did you kill on that vessel?"

    Anger flared in Piper''s eyes. "You two..." she began, her voice trembling with rage. "You were there that day!"

    The Ensign''s chuckle was chilling, sending shivers down Piper''s spine. "Ah, talking about dear old Lucas..." he mused darkly.

    "Where is he?" Piper demanded, her voice rising. "Where are all of them? What have you done with them?"

    Moreno''s laughter echoed through the commotion. "We barely had time to start our reaving and raiding," he mocked.

    The Ensign nodded in agreement. "There was another group here, with different colors but bearing Jacen''s mark. They took your friends..."

    Piper''s hands clenched around the controls. "But you know where they are!" she insisted, her voice raw with desperation.

    Moreno''s words cut through the chaos like a blade through the night. "Are you a fool?" he roared. "If they weren''t killed, then they were captured and sold on the black market. Jacen doesn''t waste time¡ªhe''ll have them auctioned off to his cronies in the darkest corners of the frontier within hours."

    Piper''s heart sank, a sickening feeling gripping her as the weight of Moreno''s words settled in.

    The Ensign, sensing her distress, surged forward, his axe gleaming with deadly intent. Piper darted away, her thrusters propelling her out of harm''s way as she readied her bazooka once more.

    Tears welled in her eyes. "What will I tell Margaret?" she whispered, just before evading a barrage of gunfire from Moreno.

    Diving into the ship''s cockpit, Piper was joined by Moreno and the Ensign, their weapons drawn as they prepared for the impending clash.

    "Shit!" Piper cursed as the Ensign unleashed a torrent of laughter over the comm.

    With grim determination, Piper pushed forward, her mech crushing the remnants of fallen crew members as she fought her way through the carnage. Dodging explosions and gunfire, she felt the weight of exhaustion settling over her like a suffocating blanket.

    As doubts crept in, she murmured to herself, "Come on, fight..." But her nose was bleeding, her head swimming with fatigue. Her mission lay in ruins, her resolve wavering.

    In the heat of battle, amid clashes of metal and sparks, Piper and the Ensign faced off. Their weapons clashed, each strike ringing out with a haunting echo. Piper''s gladius shimmered with an ethereal blue light, its blade humming with otherworldly power.

    The Ensign''s mech buckled under the force of her blows, but his arrogance remained unyielding. "You failed, girl," he taunted over the radio. "And you couldn''t save dear old Lucas."

    Piper''s eyes widened in disbelief, memories of Atticus flooding her mind. She saw him, standing tall and defiant, a symbol of unwavering strength and resilience.

    "You''re lying!" Piper shouted, her voice trembling with defiance. "Lucas was trained by the best¡ªhe''s unbreakable! Nothing could ever break him!"

    Yet, the Ensign skillfully wielded his lone stub arm and tossed his bazooka into Moreno¡¯s eager hands. Moreno chuckled as he took aim upon their blade lock.

    The Ensign chuckled darkly as he whirled his attention towards Piper. ¡°Oh, sweet girl,¡± He said. ¡°Lucas died on the tip of my penis. It was a mercy what I did to him after. I doubt a proud son of a Milworld could¡¯ve borne such a shame.¡±

    And Piper was aghast, so aghast and stricken at the implication of Lucas¡¯s fate, that she failed to realize the rocket coursing towards her. She rose her left arm only for the rocket to come careening it¡­and hard, she was knocked into the metal, crushing it but her head struck hard along the back of her cushion causing her to see stars.

    She wanted to nurse her head, but danger signs echoed as her view was engulfed by Ensign Moreno¡¯s mech¡¯s axe about to crash into her. Instead, she skillfully whirled herself away on her agile thrusters, narrowly dodging the cleave.

    She beamed away as the Ensign and Moreno started to continue there chase.

    ¡°Lucas,¡± Piper spoke his name, her voice shuddering. ¡°Oh my god, Lucas, I am so sorry I wasn¡¯t able to reach you in time.¡±

    First came sadness, and then grief, but then¡­anger bloomed. Piper slammed her hand hard along the console. She planted her mech¡¯s legs infront of her and slowed her descend cycling backwards to face the pair.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care if it kills me,¡± She spoke darkly. ¡°But that earlier hesitation is gone¡­I¡¯ll have revenge for you and all the rest, Lucas.¡±

    Piper slammed forth, and the Ensign and Moreno¡¯s trackers lit up.

    ¡°Holy crap, she¡¯s going so¡­,¡± And Moreno was slammed hard, he grunted as blood came rising from his throat, Piper came hard.

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± She shouted. ¡°I¡¯ll kill all you useless dogs!¡± She shouted, and all of them, they all came appearing across her minds eye. Friendship, honor, love, hope¡­grief.

    But a memory lingered. ¡°Why do you have to go?¡± Her father had cried.

    ¡°To make something of myself,¡± She had uttered as she held her duffel bag. ¡°Dad, I know what you offering me is good and I want to listen to you, but I can¡¯t. There are things that people need to do in this world¡­and I have to.¡±

    And her father''s plea echoed in Piper''s mind, a haunting reminder of the sacrifice she was making. But as she stared into his eyes, she knew there was no turning back.

    "Goodbye, Dad," she whispered, her voice heavy with determination. "I''m doing this to protect you all. It''s an honor."

    Her father''s expression twisted with a mix of emotions¡ªpain, anger, and perhaps a hint of pride. "Then never come back," he spat, slamming the door shut behind him. The memory lingered, casting a shadow over Piper''s thoughts. Was she the same person who had walked away from her family all those years ago?

    As Piper grappled with the weight of her past, the present demanded her attention. With a sharp focus, she unleashed a point-blank bazooka shot at Moreno, the blast engulfing him and his mech in flames as they careened into the corridor.

    "You!" bellowed the Ensign, his rage fueling his every move as he charged forward with his melee weapon. Piper shot upwards, navigating through the debris as the orange glow of their battle illuminated the darkness of space. Help would come, Piper knew, but it would be too late.

    The Ensign''s teeth clenched as he collided with Piper, his kick throwing her off balance. Regaining her composure, Piper unleashed a torrent of bullets, but the Ensign deftly evaded them. She fired her rocket launcher, grazing his thigh and igniting a blaze that danced across his mech.

    "Damn it, I''m hit," he muttered, scrambling to reach Moreno''s unconscious form. "I''ll make you pay for this, Moreno!" he roared, returning fire as Piper closed in.

    Gritting her teeth, Piper surged forward, activating her gladius and purging her backpack. The Ensign whirled his axe, taunting her with boasts of superiority. But Piper was undeterred, her determination burning brighter than ever as she faced off against her adversary.

    Piper descended with a fierce determination, the wire trailing along her cheek, a reminder of the chaos unfolding around her. "Die, you bastard!" Her battle cry pierced the tumultuous air as she thrust her blade forward, meeting the Ensign''s axe in a clash of metal and fury.

    The Ensign''s axe tore through Piper''s right mech arm, rending it asunder, and plunged deep into her chest, piercing the very heart of her mech. "H-Henryk," she gasped, her eyes widening as darkness threatened to consume her amidst the flickering lights that danced in the Ensign''s viewport.

    A primal scream tore from the Ensign''s lips as Piper''s supercharged gladius retaliated, driving into his chest module with unstoppable force. His cockpit shattered around him, his desperate protests echoing over the radio in a frenzy of madness. "J-J...ust a g-girl!" His voice crackled and faltered, a final plea lost in the chaos as the Ensign met his end.

    With the battle''s climax reached, a tense calm settled over the wreckage. The Mercurians, victorious but battered, surveyed the aftermath. Ernest nursed his wounds, his gaze fixed on the distant blue planet¡ªa reminder of the lives saved by Piper''s valor.

 Chapter 33 - Only We Were Made in Gods Image

    <u>Chapter 33 -  Only We Were Made in God''s Image</u>

    <hr>

    <u>Piper</u>

    In the aftermath of the battle, the air was thick with a tense calmness, like the lull before a storm. Ernest, his body a canvas of wounds, cast his weary gaze towards the distant blue orb of Earth. A sigh escaped him, a silent acknowledgment that without Piper and her Martian Warcasket, the outcome could have been far bleaker.

    Piper, her beacon activated, disconnected from the wire with a practiced ease. Her movements were deliberate as she adjusted her helmet and secured her flight suit. "The air''s getting thin in here... I''ll use an Easy Thruster to head to an exit," her voice crackled over the radio, the weight of exhaustion evident in her tone.

    "We''ll have a team waiting for you, Lieutenant Piper," a recruit assured her.

    Piper paused, her rank a reminder of the distance between her achievements and her official status. "I''m at most an Ensign," she countered softly, but her words were met with a curt response.

    "Let''s see after this mission. You took down that warship singlehandedly. Lieutenant Lucas was good, but you sure as hell filled his shoes today," the recruit retorted before signing off, leaving Piper to contemplate her role in the aftermath.

    With a heavy heart, Piper opened her mech''s cockpit, the emptiness of space enveloping her as she activated her thruster belt. Easy Thrusters, a lifeline in the vastness of space, were now her means of escape.

    As she propelled herself away from the wreckage, Piper''s gaze lingered on the Ensign''s vessel and the battered Martian Warcasket. Their once vibrant colors now muted by fire and battle, bearing the scars of conflict and sacrifice.

    But amidst the wreckage, a chilling realization dawned on Piper. She had survived not solely due to her prowess, but because of a crucial oversight¡ªthe Ensign''s ignorance of the Martian Cockpit''s location. If roles were reversed, the outcome would have been vastly different.

    Her thoughts drifted back to a fleeting whisper, a voice from the depths of her Warcasket¡ªa revelation she had dismissed as mere imagination. Yet, as she navigated the void, Piper couldn''t shake the feeling that there was more to her Warcasket than met the eye.

    "The False Martian Warcasket," she muttered, her words lost in the expanse of space.

    "Huh? Pipes, what''s on your mind?" Ernest''s voice crackled over the radio, pulling Piper back to reality.

    Piper pressed on, her mind racing with newfound suspicion. "It may be adorned in Mercury colors, but make no mistake, Ernest. That machine is no ally. There''s something sinister lurking within it."

    Ernest''s chuckle held a tinge of uncertainty. "Now you think so?"

    Piper exhaled heavily, her mind grappling with the weight of her recent revelations. "It''s undeniably powerful... but I can''t shake the feeling that the Mercurian Government intended for me to have it. It feels like more than just a tool to end a skirmish. Perhaps it was a test," she mused, pausing as the implications settled in. "The eye, Ernest. It was meant for me."

    Silence enveloped them as Piper drifted towards the remnants of the command bridge, seeking refuge while she contemplated her place in this tangled web of fate.

    Ernest''s voice carried a somber tone. "Pipes..."

    Piper continued, her words tinged with uncertainty. "Ernest, when I connect with this machine, I can control it with my thoughts," she confessed, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. "It''s unlike anything I''ve experienced before. In my other mech, the eye aids in aiming, but with this one... it''s as if the machine and I are one. There are two methods to synchronize with this mech... one being the way of the Sons of Mars."

    "Biologically," Ernest interjected, the answer clear in his voice. "They must have integrated it."

    Piper nodded solemnly. "Exactly. But my eye... it''s a different connection. It feels almost... weaker," she admitted, her mind racing with the possibilities. "What if I hadn''t lost my eye... but an arm? What if I had synced up with..."

    Ernest''s tone grew urgent. "Piper," he interjected, his words a warning. "We shouldn''t be entertaining such thoughts. This power is derived from lost limbs. Let the Sons of Mars deal with it."

    Piper fell silent, conceding to Ernest''s wisdom. "You''re right," she conceded, her gaze drifting to the mech before her. "I''ll stick to my old mechs, ones I can pilot for more than a few minutes, thank you." Ernest''s chuckle offered a brief moment of levity amidst their heavy conversation.

    Turning her attention to the distant planet, Piper allowed herself a small smile. "It''s time to go home, Ernest," she declared.

    However, her moment of peace was short-lived. Piper''s eyes narrowed as she observed gray objects emerging from the distance.

    "Ernest, do you see this?" she questioned, a note of concern creeping into her voice.

    Ernest''s response was swift. "Yes, I do. They''re all heading towards us..."

    "Could it be..." Piper began, her voice trailing off in disbelief.

    Ernest''s words cut through the tension like a knife. "No, it can''t be the police force. There are too many of them, and they''re all signaling distress codes directed at our vessel."

    Piper''s eyes widened in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

    "I''ve got fifty scans here, Piper, from various vessels¡ªtransports, civilian crafts," he explained urgently. "Click on your radio, you can hear them!"

    Reluctantly, Piper complied, and a cacophony of voices flooded her ears.

    "Save us, we have children!" someone pleaded.

    Another voice cut in, desperate. "We just need a quick refuel, and we''ll be out of your way!"

    Panic echoed through the radio waves. "We need protection! We''re a medical vessel, transporting the injured¡ª we need military escort!"

    The urgency in their voices sent a shiver down Piper''s spine. These weren''t just random distress signals¡ªthey were cries for help, pleas for salvation.

    As the voices continued to pour in, Piper''s mind raced with a single, chilling question: What was happening on Oceana?

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk gripped his laser rifle tightly, the weight of it comforting against his side. His sword lay beside him, forming an X-shaped silhouette. He still gasped for breath, his chest heaving after narrowly escaping drowning. Squad Pluto¡ªGerald and his younger brother, Bracken. Among them, Gerald and Bracken shared a special bond.

    Around them, the sewer system cast an eerie glow, its vast expanse stretching out like a never-ending river. Overhead, the scaffolding resembled bridges, casting long shadows in the dim light. The air hung heavy with anticipation, as if waiting for some unseen threat to materialize.

    "We''re wasting time here, Gerald," Bracken''s voice cut through the silence, his arms crossed in frustration.

    Gerald''s response was measured, his tone tinged with regret. "Bracken, Henryk''s not all bad... If it weren''t for his association with Jace, I would''ve welcomed him into the fold."

    Placing a hand on Bracken''s shoulder, Gerald tried to reassure his brother. Bracken shifted uncomfortably, his laser rifle held firmly in his grip. It was an older model, its bullpup design and synthetic wood finish giving it a sturdy, reliable feel.

    But Bracken shook his head adamantly. "No, Gerald... Just no," he insisted, arms raised in protest. "He''s a Martian, for crying out loud. You know what they''ve done to us!"

    Henryk''s voice cut through the tension, commanding attention as heads turned to face him. Even Gerald, his brother and commanding officer, couldn''t ignore the weight in his words. The air thickened with apprehension as Henryk spoke.

    Gerald''s gaze bore into Bracken, the line between brotherhood and duty blurring into shades of uncertainty. "Bracken," Gerald''s voice was low, tinged with warning. "Lower your voice."

    Bracken''s response was a sneer, his tone dripping with disdain. "So, you''d turn against blood?" he retorted sharply. "Wouldn''t be the first time." With that, he turned away, leaving a simmering tension in his wake.

    Gerald fought the urge to confront his brother, instead opting for restraint. He approached Henryk, his steps deliberate as he halted in front of him. Despite the turmoil within him, Gerald maintained his composure, his leadership shining through.

    "Henryk," Gerald began, his voice measured. "Did the Sons of Mars assign you a rank?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

    Henryk''s response was hesitant, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "I... I''m not sure," he admitted. "This is the first time I''ve been captured."

    Gerald''s chuckle held a hint of disbelief. "You truly are a mystery, Henryk Brown," he remarked. "But I need a definitive answer."

    As Henryk searched his memories for any indication of his rank, Gerald''s expression shifted. "A squire, an Executor Candidate," Henryk finally responded, his voice steady. "But also... a pilot."

    The revelation seemed to catch Gerald off guard, his eyes widening in surprise. "You''re an Executor candidate?" he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief.

    Henryk''s confusion mirrored Gerald''s, his mind racing to comprehend the implications. Gerald''s next words sent a chill down Henryk''s spine, the darkness in his tone foreboding. "Do you know what the last Executor did to us?" Gerald''s question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken dread.

    Henryk''s mind raced, grappling with the weight of Gerald''s words. The contempt held by the Executors was well-known, but the extent of their actions remained a mystery to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice betraying his unease.

    Gerald''s response was cryptic, his demeanor unsettling. "Do you not know?" he pressed, his gaze piercing. The tension between them was palpable, Henryk''s mind racing with a newfound sense of urgency.

    Caught off guard and unarmed, Henryk''s thoughts turned to survival. His eyes flickered to the plasma pistol holstered at Gerald''s thigh, a silent reminder of his vulnerability. In that moment, Henryk made a silent vow¡ªhe would never be caught defenseless again.

    Gerald''s final words held a weighty significance, a warning veiled in secrecy. "Do not tell anyone about your candidacy," he cautioned, his voice laden with implications. "We''re all juniors and seniors here, bound by the Academy Guild System..."

    Henryk''s inquiry hung in the air like a heavy mist, each word pregnant with significance. Gerald''s reaction was immediate, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and concern. "Mars was dispatched to handle the infestation too?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. "We weren''t briefed on this."

    "The Guild doesn''t always keep us in the loop?" Henryk probed further, his voice laced with suspicion.

    Gerald''s response was measured, a careful dance around the truth. "Sometimes missions come with specific directives," he explained, his words carrying the weight of unspoken secrets. "It''s possible that teams were sent in without our knowledge. We''re fortunate to have found you alive."

    As Henryk''s thoughts drifted to Peyton, to the enigmatic witch who haunted his dreams, a sense of foreboding settled over him. There was a darkness lurking in the shadows, a malevolent force stirring beneath the surface. Whether it was the machinations of government agencies, religious factions, or something more primal and ancient, one thing was certain¡ªthis sector of planets was plagued by unseen forces.

    Gerald''s words snapped Henryk back to the present, his tone tinged with a grim resolve. "Sometimes we''re the last resort," he declared, his voice tinged with bitterness. "The Corporations know how to play us against each other, but they''ll keep their options open. Who knows, maybe even Neptune''s Logan himself is on his way here."

    The gravity of the situation settled over them like a suffocating blanket, the weight of their mission bearing down on their shoulders. "How was the fighting when you arrived?" Gerald inquired, his tone heavy with anticipation.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Henryk''s recounting was concise yet chilling, each word painting a vivid picture of the horrors they faced. "We pushed the GrimGar back to the upper levels," he began, his gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape. "But they kept coming, armed to the teeth with assault rifles and missile launchers."

    Gerald''s expression darkened at the mention of missile launchers, a grim acknowledgment of the enemy''s advancing weaponry. "They''ve evolved," he murmured, his voice tinged with apprehension.

    Henryk''s eyes glinted with determination as he voiced their shared sentiment. "We have to root them out," he declared, his voice unwavering. But Gerald''s next words cast a shadow over their optimism, a grim reminder of the dangers that lurked within the depths of the caves.

    "We''ve already encountered more than we bargained for," Gerald confessed, his tone heavy with resignation. "And this is just the beginning. There could be far more waiting for us in the darkness..."

    Gerald paused, his words heavy with urgency. "I''ve come to speak with you," he began, his tone grave. "We can''t afford to delay our mission to escort you to the surface, but if you head up there¡ª" He gestured toward the upper reaches of the sewer, his expression grim "¡ªand run in a straight line, you might have a chance. We cleared that path, but..."

    "Hold on," Henryk interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You''re just going to leave me? My housemates are out there... they still need me to complete the mission with them."

    Gerald met Henryk''s gaze with a steely resolve. "Henryk, you''re just a farm boy," he countered bluntly. "Your magic surprised us, but simple tricks won''t always save you."

    Henryk''s jaw tightened, his resolve unyielding. "You doubt me and my magic," he stated firmly, rising to his feet to face Gerald. "I''ve trained tirelessly for this. The Sons of Mars are rigorous teachers, but they promise that as a Knight, I''ll have the respect and honor I deserve."

    As Henryk stood tall, Gerald saw a fire burning within him, a determination that refused to be extinguished. "I crave honor," Henryk declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "I want to embody the ideals of the Knights of Mars, to be more than just a pilot, but to become..."

    For so long, Henryk had been adrift, his mind haunted by memories of rejection and hardship. But in the embrace of the Sons of Mars, he found acceptance and purpose. He remembered watching a duel unfold, a boy saving a princess despite the danger. The Academy offered him a new beginning, a chance to forge his own path.

    No longer burdened by the expectations of his past, Henryk embraced his newfound identity. "A True Knight," he concluded, his words echoing with determination.

    Gerald was taken aback by Henryk''s fervor, but he recognized the resolve in his eyes. Despite their differences, he saw a kindred spirit in the young man before him¡ªa spirit he wished he could emulate for his own house. But fate had other plans.

    Gerald steadied himself, his voice carrying the weight of their impending partnership. "Alright then," he declared, his gaze unwavering. "But remember, you''re running with the big dogs of House Pluto. We came here for a quick job, hoping to earn a little extra coin... but there are always benefits to forging new alliances and friendships."

    Henryk nodded in understanding, sensing the gravity of Gerald''s words. As Gerald extended his hand, Henryk hesitated momentarily before firmly grasping it. "For this partnership, Henryk Brown," Gerald proclaimed, a hint of camaraderie in his tone. "I''ll put you through the paces, just like any member of the Plutonian Seven."

    The mention of the Plutonian Seven sparked curiosity in Henryk''s eyes, prompting Gerald to elaborate. "They''re my Honor Guard, the ones who stick closest to me," he explained, his hand resting reassuringly on Henryk''s shoulder. "And my little brother''s among them. He may come off as gruff, but he''s got a good heart."

    With Gerald''s guidance, Henryk followed him toward the campfire, a mixture of apprehension and anticipation swirling within him. "But what about the mission?" Henryk voiced his concern.

    "Give the guys a chance to get to know you," Gerald advised, his tone encouraging. "You''re not just another recruit to them. Let them see the person behind the red uniform."

    Henryk sighed, understanding the importance of Gerald''s words. "Yeah, you''re right," he conceded, his resolve strengthening as they approached the flickering flames of the campfire.

    <u>Zephyr</u>Top of Form

    Zephyr sat within his office, his expression brightened by a smile as he faced the console before him. On the screen, the president of Mercury mirrored his grin. "It truly is remarkable what you and your ace were able to pull off," she remarked, her voice laced with admiration.

    Zephyr chuckled warmly. "We owe it all to your support, and of course, to her incredible mech. The supplies you''ve provided have been a lifesaver. Thank you. I was beginning to worry that we''d been overlooked."

    The president''s smile faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor. "Unfortunately, this will be the last supply drop for the foreseeable future," she informed him.

    Zephyr''s eyes widened with concern. "Madam President, what do you mean?" he inquired, his tone tinged with apprehension.

    With a heavy sigh, she explained, "While you and your team are out there risking your lives, we''re facing our own challenges here on Mercury. We''re striving to bolster our industry without sacrificing the well-being of our people. Unlike Venus, we don''t have the luxury of dedicated forge worlds. We must tread carefully."

    Despite her assurances, Zephyr couldn''t shake the feeling of doubt. He knew all too well the nature of politics and the potential for hidden agendas.

    "We''ll deposit the credits into your house''s treasury and replenish your munitions. Do what you must with your remaining Warcaskets¡ªrepair or cannibalize them. And keep the Martian Warcasket," the president stated firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

    Zephyr leaned back in his chair, eyebrows furrowed. "You want us to hold onto this tech?" He opened his console, displaying the video footage captured by one of their pilots. Amidst the chaos of battle, his gaze fixated on the ominous, raven-like helmet of the mechanical monster. "It feels reckless to entrust it to Piper. She''s still just a student, a cadet on paper. Wouldn''t it be safer in storage?"

    The president''s expression remained resolute. "Miss Piper likely prefers to keep the secrets of that mech hidden. Similarly, we seek all available data on it. Perhaps...," she paused, considering her words carefully, "perhaps it holds the key to unlocking the secrets of these formidable machines. We could learn how to construct more."

    Glancing at her screen, Zephyr and the president shared a silent understanding. "The II RX ¨C Bascinet. Our team recovered it from some prospectors; the pilot was deceased, but the mech''s inner workings were salvageable," the president explained. "Notice the design. Modeled after ancient European helmet designs, yet when Mars regressed, they fashioned their mechs after the helmets they once wore."

    Zephyr shrugged, brushing aside the historical implications. "You rebuilt it, didn''t you?"

    "Rebuilding and replicating are not the same, Zephyr. I thought you understood that," the president retorted. "The Martians unearthed something within their ancient castles¡ªsomething they shouldn''t have found amidst their crude dwellings and primitive tools."

    As the president continued, Zephyr listened in silence. "They were the Emperor''s stalwart defenders for centuries," she declared. "Now, their legacy lies in ruins. Their Warcaskets once instilled fear, and if this video is accurate, Piper may have cracked their secrets."

    Suddenly, a disturbance outside caught Zephyr''s attention. Through the gray window, he glimpsed a streak of movement, breaking through the academy''s atmosphere.

    "What the¡ª," Zephyr began, but the president interrupted, her voice steady despite the building tremors. "It seems you have urgent matters to attend to, Zephyr. Remember your mission, and you''ll always have a place by my side...or perhaps even more," she added with a knowing smile. "Academy Presidents never forget their loyal supporters, whether they hail from Mercury''s trueblood or not."

    The camera abruptly shut off, plunging Zephyr into a whirlwind of urgency. He bolted through his house, his peers clamoring at the windows, while outside, the vessel descended ominously towards their hangar. "It''s coming down to our hangar!" someone yelled amidst the chaos, prompting Zephyr to sprint faster.

    Bursting through the back entrance, Zephyr could hear the pounding footsteps of academy police in pursuit. "That thing must have been flashing danger signs all over!" he yelled, his heart racing as the vessel screeched to a halt on the bare cement.

    Without hesitation, Zephyr closed the distance and reached the craft. Slamming his hand on the emergency entrance button, he was met with the alarming sight of a gun pointed directly at his face¡ªan archaic Earth weapon he had only seen in old movies. Marcus held it steady, his hands slick with blood, his face a mask of desperation.

    "Marcus!" Eric''s voice rang out, his own injuries evident as he scrambled from his seat, bandages covering his wounds. "It''s Zephyr!" he cried, arms raised in surrender, prompting Marcus to release the gun, its weight slipping from his trembling fingers.

    Approaching cautiously, Zephyr noticed Eric applying pressure to a gunshot wound on Marcus''s side, blood staining his hands. "Jesus Christ," Zephyr muttered, his gaze darting to the approaching sirens outside. Motioning urgently towards the ambulance and police vans, he then hurled himself back into the shuttle, tossing a medkit to Eric.

    With a grunt of appreciation, Eric set to work, and Zephyr watched in grim silence. "You both made it back home," he murmured, the weight of their survival sinking in. They had entrusted recruits and Piper with that accursed Warcasket to retrieve Marcus and the others. Yet, Marcus and Eric returned, but at what cost?

    "Marcus!" Eric''s desperate cry shattered the moment, his voice cracking with emotion as Marcus''s eyes began to dull. "Come on, buddy, stay with me!" Eric pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "We''ve come too far...come on!" he urged, his anguish echoing in the confined space as Marcus''s condition deteriorated before their eyes.

    <u>Henryk</u>Top of Form

    "Henryk, you''ve got to fight!" Bracken''s voice pierced the chaos, urgency laced in every syllable as they plunged into the melee. Blood streaked Henryk''s face, his hands instinctively rising to wipe it away, but he was met with a ferocious onslaught from the GrimGar, their charge knocking the wind from his lungs.

    "Henryk!" Bracken''s cry echoed, punctuated by the whirring of his laser rifle as he clicked on his helmet, unleashing beams of light to intercept the relentless attackers. "Brother!" he called out, his voice a mix of concern and determination.

    "Don''t worry about me," Gerald''s voice cut through the chaos, accompanied by the menacing hum of his evisceration-axe. The diamond-tipped blades gleamed in the dim light of the sewer as he squared off against a charging GrimGar. "Trench fighting!" Gerald roared, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

    Bracken had never heard the sound of a chain weapon before, the metallic whirring sending shivers down his spine. But his focus remained on the battle, his laser rifle blazing as he defended against the relentless onslaught. The pack''s energy was dwindling fast, the strain of combat taking its toll.

    Meanwhile, Henryk grappled with his own opponent, the GrimGar''s grip tightening around his neck as he struggled to break free. His mind raced with the finesse of an author crafting a tale, refusing to succumb to the brute force of the creature.

    Thrown against the brick sewer wall, Henryk fought to regain his footing, his vision swimming with stars. He reached for his laser rifle, only to have it swatted away, leaving him vulnerable to the GrimGar''s punishing blows. With each strike, he felt the weight of their failed assassination attempt bearing down on him, the brutality of their adversaries driving home the perilous reality of their mission.

    "Bracken!" Gerald''s voice rang out, urgency laced with desperation as he spun his plasma pistol in his left hand. The relentless horde surged forward, their approach seemingly stemming from the very depths of the earth itself.

    Struggling against his own GrimGar, Bracken fought to free himself, driving his combat blade deep into the creature''s socket as it stumbled, only to collapse upon him. His gaze darted around, dread sinking in as he witnessed more foes emerging from below.

    "We need to leave, brother!" Bracken''s cry pierced the chaos, his words a desperate plea for escape.

    "I know, I know!" Gerald shouted in response, unleashing torrents of blue plasma and wielding his mechanized axe with deadly precision. Yet, his weapon was torn from his grasp, flung aside and landing perilously close to Henryk''s vulnerable position.

    Henryk unleashed a barrage of punches, each blow fueled by rage as the GrimGar retaliated, its strikes only serving to stoke the fires of his fury. His mind flashed with memories, the shard of glass shattering deep within him, akin to the sensation he felt with Piper, but tinged with a different urgency. He refused to succumb here, his thoughts racing to the Peyton, Sirine, his family, his colony, and House Mars¡ªall that mattered in a galaxy torn apart by colors and ideologies. In this grim reality, he found clarity: a man must choose what to hold sacred.

    The academy had revealed the harsh truth of the galaxy, its ugliness laid bare, built upon a crumbling empire. Those who bullied him ruthlessly, like Jace, poised to inherit the throne of Venus despite assaulting Sirine, would one day wield immense power. Henryk refused to accept this fate.

    "I won''t have it," he declared, his voice echoing with determination as he rose to his feet, his fist raised defiantly. "I won''t have it!" With renewed vigor, he struck the GrimGar''s blackened visage, his resolve igniting a spark within his comrades.

    Spurred on by Henryk''s defiance, Bracken dispatched another GrimGar with a swift slash to its throat, his squadmates rallying around him with newfound determination. Henryk evaded a vicious blow, his Martian instincts guiding him as he lunged towards Gerald''s abandoned plasma pistol, seizing it with determination.

    "I am done holding back!" Henryk''s voice thundered through the chaos, a declaration fueled by a surge of memories flooding his mind.

    Failings, guilt, accusations, betrayals¡ªall coalesced into a relentless determination. Jose and Mag''s betrayal, Sirine''s marriage, Piper''s plight, House Mars'' struggle, and the specter of his near-lynching¡ªall weighed heavily on his conscience. But now, he would unleash hell''s fury and more. The Martians had shown him the path to greatness, a chance to honor his family and home, to become a hero.

    "Death to the Alien!" Henryk''s cry rang out, infused with the same power as the magical scream that had once echoed through the music building. Now, those words became weapons, casting a spell of fear upon the GrimGar.

    The creatures recoiled, their ranks thrown into disarray as Henryk''s words wielded a potent magic, sending them sprawling in fear. "The light," he murmured, then his eyes widened with revelation. "Reach the light... and fight!" His command reverberated with magic, another wave of power emanating from him, repelling the GrimGar.

    But while the GrimGar cowered, the reaction among Henryk''s allies was vastly different. The Halfbreeds of Pluto, weary and exhausted, suddenly felt a surge of renewed vigor and determination. Bracken and the others, previously fatigued, now stood tall, ready to fight.

    The spell Henryk had invoked¡ªVoice of War¡ªroused them to battle, infusing them with courage and resolve. He continued to fire shots, his training at House Mars shining through as he dispatched enemies with precision.

    "Give them hell!" Henryk''s command echoed, a rallying cry that stirred his allies into action. Yet, amidst the fervor of battle, Isaac''s warning about succumbing to battle lust flickered briefly in his mind.

    Gerald, recognizing the prowess of the Executors, took up his chain weapon, his demeanor shifting from skepticism to respect. "Should''ve known better, you Executors," he grunted, acknowledging their silent but deadly reputation. "Show us why you''re the Emperor''s Executioners, Halfbreed."

    "Then give them hell!" The GrimGar were thrown backwards, a cacophony of pipes, military weaponry, lasers, and plasma converging as the boys surged toward the surface. Blasting, slicing, and bashing, they fought tooth and nail, Henryk''s magic swirling with his commanding words.

    "Kill the alien! We alone were made in God''s image!" Henryk''s voice rang out above the chaos, a rallying cry that echoed through the tumult of battle.

    Bracken laughed, his laser rifle poised before him, a barrage of beams tearing through the GrimGar ranks, leaving chaos and carnage in their wake. "That''s life!" he shouted, his voice buoyed by adrenaline as he fought alongside Henryk.

    Amidst the flurry of combat, Gerald''s warning cut through the din. "Be wary, Henryk! If that weapon gets in the red, you''re toast!"

    Henryk sneered defiantly. "We''re almost at the top! Don''t give in!" His words fueled their determination, and they pressed on with renewed vigor, cutting down their foes with relentless determination.

    But as they vanquished the last of their adversaries, they were met with a harrowing sight. The great blimps burned and fell from the sky like fallen stars, while once-majestic skyscrapers crumbled, raining destruction upon the populace below. In that moment, their hopes for salvation were eclipsed by the grim reality of their situation.

    And then, a horrifying screech pierced the air, its echoes reverberating with a sense of impending doom.

 Chapter 34 - The Golden Prince

    Chapter 34 - The Golden Prince

    <hr>

    <u>Edward</u>

    Ed was nowhere to be found in the transport as he claimed. He had lied.

    Instead, he veered off course, his steps leading him to the docking bay where the transport crafts nestled within the planet''s hangars. From there, he charted a course towards the tallest structure in the city, a beacon of authority amid the urban sprawl. Though the academy exuded opulence, it remained an insular enclave, disconnected from the broader world. But Ed found himself at a loss, uncertain of the city''s boundaries.

    "Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist''s inquiry snapped him from his reverie. She was a middle-aged woman, her blonde hair framing a face that betrayed years of navigating bureaucratic mazes.

    Caught off guard by her question, Ed glanced over his shoulder to behold the snaking line of eager visitors. He drew a deep breath, steeling himself against the crush of bodies. "No," he replied softly, rubbing his temples.

    The receptionist''s fingers danced across the keyboard, punctuating the air with the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of keys. Ed''s gaze drifted to the window, where he observed the bustling traffic below¡ªcars coursing through the streets and soaring through the sky like winged creatures. He was captivated by the sight, momentarily lost in the spectacle.

    "And who are you here to see?" The receptionist''s voice brought him back to the present, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected visitor.

    Ed steadied his breath, weaving a fabric of half-truths to cloak his intentions. "It''s academy business... I need to meet with Governor Mathias Radulf of Oceana II, please."

    The receptionist''s eyes widened in surprise, her brow furrowing in skepticism. "Kid, listen," she began, leaning in closer. "Whether you''re from the academy or not, there are protocols to follow, and..."

    Ed chuckled softly, meeting her gaze with unwavering confidence. "Tell him Edward Wolfsheim wishes to meet. I may not have an appointment, but a friend has informed him of my impending arrival."

    "But not when?" The receptionist''s laughter was tinged with doubt, her skepticism evident. She questioned the wisdom of relaying such a message to the governor, uncertain of its purpose. After all, Ed appeared to be just another ordinary youth, and she had no desire to incur the wrath of security for admitting him.

    Yet, with a resigned sigh, she relented. Duty called, and she knew that if security needed to be summoned, she would bear the brunt of the consequences. "Very well... but be prepared to wait. The governor is a busy man, and you''ll need to exercise patience."

    "Wait," Ed replied with a smug tilt of his head. "I''ll wait." With a confident stride, he broke away from the line and settled into a seat, a closed smile playing at his lips.

    The receptionist could only sigh in resignation as another customer took Ed''s vacated place. She had expected him to linger, but neither she nor Ed anticipated the arrival of security.

    Stopping before Ed, the larger of the two officers, a man with dark skin clad in antiquated Earth-style police attire, addressed him. "You''re Edward Wolfsheim?" he queried.

    Ed met his gaze, aware of the collective scrutiny upon him. "That''s right," he confirmed, rising from his seat. "Do you require my credentials?"

    The officer nodded curtly. "The Governor has cleared you for a meeting, for whatever reason. I don''t care, but my duty is to ensure his safety." With that, he motioned for Ed to follow, adding, "Come along, I''m not going to wait for you."

    As Ed fell into step behind the officer, he glanced at his watch, then shifted his gaze to the man''s broad back. I''ve only been gone for thirty minutes. This is merely a GrimGar encounter they''re dealing with... This meeting is far more significant, the culmination of all my efforts since I first arrived.

    Led to an elevator discreetly tucked away from the public eye, Ed noted its opulent golden trim. "Head to the top floor¡ªthe Governor awaits," the officer instructed.

    Ed nodded, pressing the button to summon the elevator. As the doors slid open, he took his first steps inside. "Edward Wolfsheim, President of House Mars," the other officer remarked. Ed paused, pivoting to face them. "We''ve seen your ID... Just remember, our priority is protecting the governor. If we sense even a hint of Martian Rage, we won''t hesitate to act."

    The older, taller officer shot his companion a stern glance, silencing him. Yet, the silence was pregnant with unspoken implications. "We don''t tolerate traitors to the throne around here. Don''t expect your past loyalties to shield you," he warned.

    Ed regarded the two men, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind. For a fleeting moment, he entertained the notion of confronting them, reminding them of their shared ancestry and the tales of honor and valor that defined House Mars. But then his mind drifted back to the day when he stood alone in defense of his House, even against his own kin.

    In that moment, Edward Wolfsheim realized that in this world, alliances were forged and loyalties tested, but in the end, one must stand firm, even if it means standing alone.

    With a tilt of his head, Ed stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. Both men outside scrutinized him, and Ed met their gaze unflinchingly. As the doors sealed shut, he felt the swift ascent, bathed in a cascade of golden light as the elevator soared to the fifth level.

    Stunned momentarily, Ed''s surprise melted into a smile as he beheld the sprawling cityscape below. Towering edifices kissed the sky, while fleets of airships and cutting-edge technology showcased humanity''s collective achievements.

    Upon reaching the 100th level, the doors groaned open, and Ed emerged into a narrow corridor. Pausing before the solitary brown door, he hesitated briefly. "Come on, Ed," he murmured to himself, his wrist trembling momentarily before he steadied it with his other hand. "No fear. I can''t show him any fear... or he will consume me." With a heavy breath, he pushed the door open.

    Ed didn''t know what to expect, but in his wildest dreams during the labor camp, he had envisioned this moment. He had imagined opulence, a grand office fit for a ruler. Instead, he found warmth and the gentle glow of sunlight streaming through open windows.

    As Ed approached, he beheld a man significantly older, possibly in his 50s or 60s, clad in a simple business suit, a satchel resting casually on a nearby chair.

    Before Ed could speak, the man, Mathias, addressed him. "I didn''t believe it when I saw it in my emails at first," he confessed.

    Drawing closer, Mathias continued, "I read the reports all those years ago... the Golden Prince lost to the void. But I held onto hope, even as others succumbed to despair and met their end across the galaxy. I kept my hope," he paused, locking eyes with Ed, his orange-golden gaze meeting Ed''s emerald green. A smile crept across his lips. "...and I''m glad it paid off."

    Approaching Ed, Mathias fell to one knee, his arms falling to his sides. Cupping Ed''s hand, he pressed a reverent kiss to his palm, tears streaming down his weathered features. "Forgive me," he implored, his voice thick with emotion. "I had to see for myself, I had to look into the eyes I saw the day you were born. Now, I know the Empress''s words are true."

    Laughter mingled with sobs, creating an eerie symphony in the room as Ed observed the old man''s emotional rollercoaster. Yet, amidst the turmoil of feelings, one utterance seized Ed''s attention, causing a gasp to escape his lips. Mathias clasped his hand once more, his gaze fixed on the floor, as if grappling with profound truths.

    "The Golden Prince, still lives!" Mathias''s proclamation reverberated through the chamber, sending shivers down Ed''s spine. It was a jarring declaration, one that stirred dormant memories and awakened ancient legacies. Ed''s true name, long forgotten, echoed in Mathias''s final words¡ªa name steeped in the golden lineage of kings, a legacy woven from the fabric of Mars itself.

    "All hail Edward Goldree, the Golden Prince... the Last of The Kings of The Red Moon, a King of Mars!" Mathias''s voice resounded with the weight of history, each syllable laden with the blood-stained saga of kings and kingdoms, of power and legacy. In that moment, Ed stood at the precipice of destiny, confronted with the echoes of a past he had thought lost forever.

    <u>Jacob</u>

    Jacob had faced battles and taken lives before, his Martian heritage running deep in his veins, but never had he savored the taste of victory nor sought honor in bloodshed. Yet, a fierce transformation overcame Isaac as he grasped the stockless Executor rifle, a primal energy coursing through his veins.

    "Come get some!" His voice thundered above the cacophony of gunfire, a manic laughter trailing behind his battle cry. Bullets tore through the air, each shot a declaration of defiance against the encroaching darkness. A GrimGar fell, its throat torn asunder by Isaac''s relentless onslaught, leaving a young girl cradled in terror, crimson fear staining her innocent features. With trembling hands, she was pulled away from the fray, fleeing into the uncertain safety of the ruins, where danger lurked in every shadow.

    Joseph, consumed by the immediacy of combat, gripped his axe tightly, its blade humming with an ominous orange glow. Across the debris-strewn battlefield, a formidable GrimGar loomed, its predatory gaze fixed on Joseph with deadly intent. Seeking refuge within the shattered remains of a once-grand hotel, Joseph and his companions plotted their next move¡ªradioing Ed, their beacon of hope in a city besieged by darkness.

    Fingers trembling with adrenaline, Joseph fired his pistol, each shot a desperate plea for survival echoing through the desolate halls. GrimGar adversaries lurked in the shadows, their ominous presence a constant reminder of the city''s impending doom. With gritted teeth, Joseph urged his allies to protect the innocent amidst the chaos, his words a rallying cry amidst the chaos of battle.

    As the GrimGar closed in, Isaac''s rifle sang with deadly precision, its lethal aim sparing the lives of civilians caught in the crossfire. Joseph''s Martian Power Armor pulsed with ancient energy, a relic of a bygone era now wielded in defiance against the encroaching darkness.

    "So, this is the real deal," Joseph exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief. Just days earlier, their mission seemed straightforward, but now it had taken a disastrous turn. What was happening here? They had fought tooth and nail against the greatest odds Joseph had ever encountered, but...

    Ed nodded in agreement, his office filled with the sound of his lighter snapping open as he took a drag from his cigarette. Speaking as Joseph adjusted the helmet on his head, Ed remarked, "Sir William had quite a stash, and Adaline and Bea, thanks to our new partnership, will only deal with us."

    Joseph looked up at him, a frown forming. "So, you want to keep our weapons to ourselves," he observed.

    Ed shot him a sharp look. "That was Mars'' old policy... We can''t risk the other houses getting hold of our weaponry."

    Joseph sighed, his gaze shifting to the blank, black eyes of the suit. Slowly, he began to speak, his voice low and reflective. "The PA2 ¨C Great Helm. I never thought these things were still around... even back on Mars when we were kids," Joseph paused, a sense of nostalgia creeping in. "I thought this pattern had become extinct."

    Ed chuckled, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke. "Nope, they may not know how to make it anymore, but old Mad Ed had a bunch when the Mark 4''s and 5''s were being rolled out. The power armor gives even the enhanced Martians greater strength. It can even protect you against Executor rounds fairly well, and they have the strongest backpack energy source out of all of them."

    Joseph nodded along, his head bobbing like a toy. "Sure, sure," he replied. "...but Ed, these suits are no joke. The moment we step out there wearing them..."

    "It''s all about perception, I get it," Ed interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Listen, just don''t do anything out there that will tarnish Mars'' reputation further... though I doubt that''s even possible with you lot," he chuckled, his laughter echoing in the room. "Especially Isaac."

    Joseph sighed, a hint of amusement in his tone now.

    Ed waved the smoke around, his demeanor now more relaxed. With rain pouring outside and the room illuminated by a single light, it was just the two of them.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    "Sometimes, I wonder if he even likes me," Ed mused.

    "Oh, come on," Joseph responded, waving off Ed''s concern. "Isaac may be rough around the edges, but he''s a product of the Martian System. People may have their opinions, but it works. It''s tough, but it''s kept the universe safe... and within that toughness, there was brotherhood," Joseph paused, locking eyes with the black visor of the armor. "I don''t think Isaac has ever experienced that before."

    Ed sighed heavily, his gaze fixed on the file in front of him. "I went through his file... impressive in every aspect, surprisingly. He''s remarkably intelligent, fluent in several languages, self-taught in strategy through extensive reading... and it reflects in his performance. He''s memorized command doctrines and plans... but his psychological evaluation is..."

    Joseph let out a weary sigh. "He''s likely suffering from PTSD. You know how those Military Academy worlds operate, especially in the deep frontier."

    There was a moment of silence as Ed took a drag from his cigarette. "I don''t know if it''s just me, Joe. Sometimes, I tend to overthink, and I hate that... I feel so stressed at times," he admitted, walking over to the window.

    "Ed," Joseph called out.

    Ed turned around, his expression troubled. "I''m sorry, I shouldn''t have..."

    "You''re my friend and leader, Ed," Joseph interrupted gently. "If you need someone to talk to, that''s why you came to me about this situation."

    Ed fell silent at that, taking a seat. "Joseph, I know time has passed, but before this mission... we need everyone working together seamlessly, so..." He paused, his gaze intense. "Now I ask, who is loyal, for those loyal will wield this plate."

    Joseph was jolted from his thoughts, narrowly avoiding a jaggedly made machete swung by Arthur, who whooped from behind. Drawing his pistol, Joseph fired at the GrimGar. "Yeah, get them, Joseph, get him!" Arthur shouted.

    Dodging another blow, Joseph spun on his feet and leaped, each strike from the creature growing more forceful. But one blow was too powerful, striking the wood and embedding itself.

    Joseph''s eyes widened as he saw the opportunity. "I''ve got you!" he shouted, whirling his axe and cleaving the creature in half. Blood and grime coated Joseph''s armored form as the GrimGar, witnessing this display, began to flee and retreat. Yet, the sons of Mars continued their relentless assault.

    Inside the building, people cautiously emerged from their rooms, witnessing the scene. Joseph''s breath rattled within his chest as he took a knee.

    Vinnie hurried over to him, his medical helmet shining red and white as he approached. "Joe, are you..."

    "Vin, I''m fine, but they probably aren''t... I just need a moment to catch my breath." Joseph''s voice quivered with exhaustion as he spoke. Vinnie opened his mouth to respond but then simply nodded, dashing off to assist the wounded scattered across the chaotic scene.

    Joseph''s chest rose and fell with each labored breath as Axel emerged from his hiding spot, deftly reloading his weapon with practiced ease. Blood seeped from a heavily bandaged wound on Axel''s leg as he slowly made his way towards them, grimacing with each step. "Christ, Axel," Arthur exclaimed, rushing to support him against the wall.

    With a cough, Axel removed his helmet, gasping for air as beads of sweat dripped down his brow. More survivors trickled out of their rooms, their faces etched with fear, while Isaac remained silent behind his helmet, his expression unreadable.

    Arthur unclasped his helmet and hung it at his waist. "What a sorry sight we make, comrades," Axel remarked with a bitter chuckle, echoed by Arthur.

    "You''re a brave one, Axel, a true fighter," Arthur said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "But this... this is dire."

    Axel glanced down at his injured leg. "It''s not just about bravery anymore. We need to get out of this city before we lose more than just limbs to infection," he declared, his tone resolute.

    Arthur nodded grimly. "Ed and the transport," he murmured, his gaze drifting towards the distant radio tower. "Do you think the signal will hold?"

    "More like if the power will hold," Axel replied tersely, eyeing the flickering lights of the hotel.

    "I''ve faced GrimGar before on my homeworld," Arthur began, his voice tinged with unease. "But I''ve never seen them like this. Where did they get such numbers?"

    "They''ve evolved," Axel replied, his brow furrowed with concern. "Advanced weaponry, vehicles... and sheer numbers."

    Arthur''s eyes widened in realization. "GrimGar aren''t known for their strength, especially not with the arsenal they''re wielding. But something''s different this time," he mused aloud. "Their tactics, their equipment... it''s as if they''ve undergone a transformation."

    "It''s unsettling," Axel agreed, his voice tinged with apprehension. "They shouldn''t have the knowledge or resources for this level of warfare. There''s something more at play here."

    Arthur nodded, scratching his head in bewilderment. "Perhaps it''s a mutation, or... dare I say it, magic?"

    Axel shook his head, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a sense of foreboding. "Arthur, this isn''t mere coincidence... these tremors, they''re timed too perfectly, as if..."

    "They''re embedded within the planet," Arthur interjected gravely, his voice heavy with resignation. Moving to support Axel, he glanced back at the trail of destruction they left behind. Axel''s gun hung limply at his side as he struggled to catch his breath.

    "Damn it," Axel muttered through gritted teeth. "They caught us off guard. Next time... I won''t underestimate the GrimGar."

    Arthur chuckled softly, a bitter undertone in his laughter, as they made their way down the stairs. People scurried about in panic, debris clinging to their clothes, while children sought refuge behind their trembling parents. Axel''s gaze softened as he observed the chaos around them. "Even now, I''m powerless. But you, you would have..." His voice trailed off, haunted by memories of Henryk''s fall.

    "We''ll discuss this further on the ship," Arthur declared, his expression grim. "We need to inform everyone about what''s happening here. The entire sector is in turmoil."

    Axel snorted in agreement. "I did some digging before we arrived," he admitted, his breath still labored. "This sector used to be a stronghold of the Martians, a series of industrial worlds loyal to the crown, now up for grabs."

    Arthur spat in disdain. "Vultures," he muttered. "So, who''s vying for control?"

    Axel shot him a knowing look. "You''ve been out of the loop. But here''s the gist: Oceana Prime still has their princess..." He smirked. "And Neptune boasts a prince. Funny how the invasion coincided with the princess turning eighteen."

    Arthur''s eyes widened in realization as Axel winced in pain on the stairs. "Maybe I should watch more TV," Arthur quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

    Axel chuckled weakly, patting Arthur on the back. "You''re not half bad, countryman."

    Their camaraderie blossomed amidst the chaos of battle, a bond forged in the crucible of adversity.

    "The elevator''s out," Vinnie announced, tending to the wounded. Rising to join the group, he turned to Joseph. "Are we still sticking to the mission?"

    Joseph shook his head decisively. "To hell with the mission. We''re calling Ed and getting out of here."

    "Wait, are you going to leave?" The mother''s voice cut through the chaos, her arms wrapped protectively around her daughter as she hurried towards Vinnie. But before she could reach him, Isaac''s imposing power armor loomed over her, nearly knocking her off her feet.

    "Back away now..." His voice crackled through the radio, a cold warning that sent shivers down her spine.

    "Enough, Isaac," Arthur sighed, stepping forward to diffuse the tension. "Forgive my friend, madam. He can be... overly cautious at times."

    More people flooded into the lobby, drawn by the commotion. Joseph turned to see what had attracted their attention and his heart sank. The once grand lobby now lay in ruins, shattered windows offering a grim view of the outside world. The sky glowed an eerie orange, choked with smog, while a thick fog hung ominously on the horizon.

    Rubble littered the streets, blocking once bustling highways now reduced to nothing more than debris-strewn wastelands. Joseph''s mind raced, trying to make sense of the devastation. "They must have planted bombs," he muttered to himself. "But these earthquakes, these tremors... there''s something more to them."

    In the distance, amidst the destruction, Joseph spotted a car racing down the road, its grey form a stark contrast against the chaos. His gaze followed its path, realization dawning on him. "They''re heading towards the docks," he murmured.

    "No civilians are to be allowed," Isaac declared, his tone unwavering.

    "And you would condemn them all to die here?" Arthur''s wounded hand gestured to the crowd that had gathered around them. "We have the means to transport them to safety on the neighboring Oceana Planets."

    Isaac''s expression darkened. "And what happens when one of them gets in the way of our mission, or worse, gets killed?" he retorted. "I''d rather deal with the consequences of leaving them behind than risk our mission failing."

    Axel snorted in disbelief. "So, it''s always about the mission for you," he remarked, a hint of contempt in his voice.

    "Always," Isaac replied, his voice laced with a chilling determination. "Because, in the end, that''s all that matters."

    "They''ll catch up," Axel declared, determination etched on his face. "We''ll clear the floors from the staircase." With a commanding gesture, he pointed upwards, signaling their next move.

    Joseph approached Isaac, his expression pleading. "Come on, brother," he implored, laying a comforting hand on Isaac''s shoulder. "We can''t leave them behind. There are children and women in there..."

    Isaac''s response was filled with venomous rage. "To hell with those children and women!" he bellowed, his voice dripping with contempt. He turned to face the crowd, his gaze searing with hatred, even directed at the young girl cradled in her mother''s arms. "They''ll only scorn us for the colors we bear," he spat bitterly. "We''ve served them for centuries, Joseph. And what have they done? They''ve let our world burn."

    With grim resolve, Isaac leveled his weapon and forged ahead, his footsteps echoing ominously on the staircase.

    "Joseph!" Axel''s voice rang out in protest. "You can''t..."

    But Joseph shook his head resolutely. "He''s my best friend, and he''ll take point," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "But there''s truth in his words." Pausing, he turned to address the crowd. "If any of you fall behind... I can''t promise to save you. This city is lost. We need to leave as quickly as possible."

    Clicking off his helmet, Joseph''s warm brown eyes met the gaze of the onlookers. His braid swayed gently against his chest as he spoke with quiet authority. "Stick close to us and follow our lead. We''ll clear the path ahead."

    For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, the sound of a child''s cry pierced the stillness, the mother''s soothing voice attempting to comfort her. Finally, she spoke, her voice filled with determination.

    "We''ll keep up."

    <u>Henryk</u>Top of Form

    Henryk and his companions raced through the darkness, their breath ragged and labored. Grime and GrimGar blood stained their armor, while the stench of sewer water clung to their clothes like a sinister shroud. They pushed forward with desperation, their footsteps echoing through the desolate field that stretched out before them, a bleak expanse leading to the heart of the town.

    "We''re almost there!" Henryk''s voice rang out, filled with urgency, urging his comrades onward. With a burst of speed, he surged ahead, the powerful servos of his squire power armor propelling him forward like a force of nature.

    "Darn it!" Bracken''s voice echoed, breathless and strained, as he stumbled, nearly falling. His older brother reached out, steadying him just in time, and Bracken regained his footing, matching the frantic pace of their flight.

    Then, amidst the pounding of their hearts and the rush of adrenaline, they heard it¡ªthe unmistakable sound of machine gun fire.

    Bullets whizzed through the air like angry wasps, their deadly sting echoing in the chaos. "Shit, Ger¡ª!" The words died on Henryk''s lips as a comrade''s scream was abruptly cut short, his skull shattered by a well-placed bullet.

    "Lance!" A feminine voice cried out, the sound muffled by the protective mask. Henryk''s surprise was palpable¡ªhe hadn''t realized Pluto enlisted women in their ranks. When he had joined, it was...

    "Everyone, move your asses if you want to live!" Gerald''s command sliced through the cacophony, and they obeyed without question.

    As they sprinted, Henryk''s thoughts raced faster than his feet. Just last year, he was playing baseball in high school. Now, he was dodging bullets. What had his life become? But he refused to meet his end here.

    Drawing on his training, Henryk''s muscles surged with newfound strength as he scaled the chain-link fence, his brothers close behind. With a deft movement, they crossed to the other side, Henryk taking up a defensive position, his cheek resting against the cool metal of his rifle.

    His eyes locked onto the GrimGar manning the machine gun, his finger hovering over the trigger. With unwavering focus, he took aim and fired, a single red laser beam slicing through the air, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. A shot made from a mile away.

    "Holy shit, Henryk," Gerald breathed, the tension in the air thick with adrenaline. As the smoke of battle filled their nostrils, Henryk allowed himself a rare smirk, Gerald extending a hand to help him up.

    "You did good, Henryk Brown," Gerald said, his own hand reaching for a plasma pistol. But instead of handing it to Henryk, he pushed it back into his chest. "Keep it," he insisted.

    Henryk''s eyes widened in disbelief. "W-what?" he stammered. "This is an actual..."

    "It''s a plasma pistol," Gerald interrupted, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "And I have a feeling you''ll need it more than me. Consider it a thank-you for getting us out of that mess back there."

    Henryk''s smirk faded as the weight of Gerald''s gesture sank in. "Like a weapon from a comic book," he muttered, the gravity of the moment not lost on him. "I''m sorry... that was inappropriate."

    Gerald''s sigh echoed through the desolate alleyway, the weight of loss heavy upon his shoulders. His gaze swept past the imposing chain-link fence, shrouded in shadows that seemed to swallow the very essence of hope. "Lance is gone... and I can''t even see the faces of the others."

    "Is there any way to contact them?" Henryk''s voice broke the silence, filled with a desperate hope. "We''re on the surface, it should have been..."

    "Easier," Gerald interrupted, his tone tinged with resignation. "These GrimGar are different¡ªthey roam the surface. You saw the nightmare out there, Henryk. All that matters now is survival. My squad has a ship. If we can rendezvous, we might have a chance."

    With determined strides, Gerald led the way down the alley, Henryk trailing behind him. Bracken knelt nearby, his rifle held before him as he exchanged a silent nod with his brother.

    "But Gerald, what about House Mars and the mission?" Henryk pressed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

    "The mission?" Gerald scoffed, the bitterness evident in his tone. "Some missions can''t be accomplished, Henryk. Trust me on that. We''ll have to let this one go. And legally speaking, we should be compensated for our efforts, according to guild law."

    Henryk''s silent dread gnawed at him. The dubious nature of their private guild left him questioning whether they would ever receive the promised compensation. Perhaps all of this would be in vain.

    "Fuck the mission," Gerald declared, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. "Listen, Henryk, as a commander, you''ve got to adapt. See anything, little brother?"

    Henryk shot him a pointed look, feeling more like a subordinate than a trusted ally. Gerald whistled softly, gesturing toward a nearby complex. Through a ring of other apartments, they could make a beeline for it¡ªa radio dish lay within.

    "We can repair your radio pack, Henryk," Bracken offered, his voice tinged with cautious optimism.

    Gerald nodded in agreement. "If your Sons of Mars have any sense left, we can''t afford to stay here. We''ll need to regroup and reassess our strategy."

    "Regroup?" Bracken echoed, skepticism coloring his words. "From these creatures? It''s more like a tactical retreat."

    Gerald shook his head, a grim determination settling over him. "Who knows how long they''ve been breeding down there. When the Enuch Emperor learns of this..."

    Henryk''s eyes widened at the daring insult. "You actually said that?" he gasped, a mixture of awe and disbelief in his voice.

    A tense silence hung heavy in the air as Gerald''s gaze bore into Henryk. "Um, yeah," he muttered, breaking the uneasy stillness.

    "But those were just rumors," Henryk protested, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Our Emperor is healthy."

    Bracken exchanged a meaningful glance with Gerald, a silent communication passing between them. Gerald''s expression remained inscrutable as he shook his head. "Never mind then," he said curtly, his grip tightening on his assault rifle. With a decisive gesture, he pointed towards the imposing radio station atop the complex. "Move as one, kill as one."

    With determination etched into their features, they set out, a silent pact binding them together as they embarked on their perilous mission.

 Chapter 35 - The Siege of Oceana II

    <u>Axel</u>

    They made there way through the emergency staircase. Rising up and up in the hopes of long range transmission with Ed for evacuation, it seemed to be the only option, more so with the crowd that followed up after them.

    Axel was perched, head forward, eyes narrowed as he let the power armor helmet scan the area forth. ¡°Where clear,¡± He stated and as they approached Axel was the first to realize that debri had clouded the upper staircase.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Isaac blurted out.

    ¡°Shit indeed my friend,¡± Spoke Arthur as he walked to the other young mens side. ¡°Shit indeed.¡±

    Isaac snorted. ¡°Wheel just cut through the floor,¡±

    Joeseph shrugged his shoulders. ¡°We¡¯ve got people with us, we¡¯re going to need to be quick about it, who knows¡­I doubt that we killed all the GrimGar within the establishment.¡±

    And Joseph was close enough to hear Isaac grumble something. ¡°Another reason why we should not have helped them,¡± He paused and gazed around. But luckily it was only Joeseph that heard the speech.

    Joeseph shot him a look, and Isaac knew he had been made, as he tossed his gaze to the other side of the wall.

    Vinnie walked over. ¡°Whats?¡± Then he saw the mountain of debri.

    ¡°We can¡¯t get through this,¡± Stated Arthur. ¡°We don¡¯t have any escvation gear.¡±

    Axel took a knee and pointed at the rubble. ¡°Our strength with the power armor can allow us to clear the way,¡± He stated and threw his head back towards them all. ¡°But it¡¯s going to take time.¡±

    ¡°Fuck that,¡± Stated Isaac. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle that this whole time more haven¡¯t came around the bend.¡±

    ¡°So, it¡¯s either mine through all this debri¡­or cut on a floor that we don¡¯t know.¡± Vinnie announced.

    Arthur nodded along, his mind working. ¡°It¡¯s perfect for an ambush, but everyone just needs to keep there heads down, stay quiet, and stay alert.¡±

    Isaac sneered, but he kept his mouth shut. They were right next to the door and even now the power was inconsistent. The entrance door having a green neon light, but now heavily dillapitadet.

    Isaac was the first one to approach with his rifle infront of himself. Clicking on his flashlight as the way ahead was beamed with light. ¡°Keep tight and you¡¯ll stay fine¡­,¡± Spoke Vinnie to the crowd. But he sighed. ¡°But I can¡¯t make any guarantee if you weave offcourse. The moment this becomes a fire fight¡­don¡¯t try and be a hero, that¡¯s our job. Stay out of sight and out of mind. That is how your going to help us keep you alive.¡±

    The group of civileans either nodded, stated explicitly, etc. But there answer was the same¡­they¡¯d listen, for this place was horrible now, and they¡¯d do anything to leave.

    When they entered the new floor of the hotel, it did not look as bad as the lobby was, most likely due to it being the first floor. However, Axel was able to smell the distinct taste of raw jagged metal and dust so heavy that it practically clogged the air.

    A minute of walking and they came upon an opening. It looked to be where elevator¡¯s were and there were plants on the opposing side of the elevator, the elevator, why was he¡­there was an open slit within the right one, the door jammed and closing on something stuck, then opening then repeat.

    Isaac leveled his gun at it. ¡°Everything okay?¡± On of the knights spoke to him, but he was staring at the opening, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard some laughing.

    His gun started echoing, and the Executor rifle, thumped within his hands. The Executor rifle, utilized great cartdridges that while did pack a punch against ones shoulder and wrist, they released bullets that could rip a targets limb from there own body.

    Isaac was breathing heavily, and his brothers who had regained there weapons, the civileans were all looking at him. ¡°Did you kill it?¡± Quesitoned Joeseph. ¡°The enemy!¡± He shouted, and the loudness betrayed him, but Isaac was being to quiet¡­out of everyone, but Isaac was silent, there was more laughter and the roaring that they heard.

    There was no more sound, no blood, and for a moment as more and more GrimGar started to appear and crack open the doors of there rooms. Taking there arms, Isaac wondered, if what he heard was an enemy¡­or the ruminations of a worn psyke.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk holding both his sword with both hands, delivered an overhead chop that seperatetd the GrimGar¡¯s head in half.

    ¡°Good shit, wizard!¡± Shouted Bricken heard.

    Henryk breathed heavily as the dead and dying of the GrimGar perished and fell underneath the true brother¡¯s wraith. However, that was when they heard the sound of gunshots.

    Bricken and Gerald rose there heads upwards. ¡°That¡¯s coming from here.¡± Gerald stated.

    ¡°Probably from the upper floors,¡± Responded Bricken. Jamming another battery pack into his rifle.

    Gerald had a look, and he made his way outside. ¡°Christ, it¡¯s what I feared,¡± He blurted out, and Henryk quickly ran to his side, Bricken shooting a look at that.

    He pointed, but Gerald could tell that his tone was laden towards advise towards Henryk, he merely was the observer. ¡°The whole building is destroyed,¡± Gerald stated. ¡°Meaning, that¡­¡±

    Henryk saw them approaching. He saw the smog of there cars that had crude turrents, he saw some of them leaving other buildings to join the fray, and some were even charging towards them from the destroyed streets.

    ¡°Fuck that¡¯s a lot of them,¡± Replied Henryk.

    Gerald drew down to his SMG in his hands and he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve got like five full mags for this, but they¡¯ll overwhelm us with attrition alone.¡±

    ¡°Then, this plan has to work,¡± Spoke sternly Bricken. ¡°Everysingle GrimGar in miles is going to come here. We need to leave, now.¡±

    And as the brother started to speak, they started to shoot up and up, the adrenaline fueling there worn muscles as they shot up stair after stair. As they approached, and were planning on dodging the gunfire due to it being GrimGar or could¡¯ve been a crazy guy. However, as they approached Henryk realized something¡­that calibur could only be one sound, and that halted his steps.

    ¡°What are you doing, Henryk?¡± Bricken questioned. ¡°It¡¯s up there¡­we need to¡­¡±

    ¡°Those are the Sons of Mars,¡± Spoke Henryk and he leveled his hand towards the floor they were on. Even now, they could see the muzzle flash that created blast of orange playing along the walls. Like some messed up EDM concert.

    Gerald glanced upwards, and then, down to his brother and Henryk.

    Bricken brought his gaze up to Gerald. ¡°You want to work with the Martians.¡± He spoke sternly.

    Gerald shot him a look. ¡°Bricken, two members of our squad are dead¡­we don¡¯t have the luxury of picking or choosing our allies,¡± Gerald gazed at Henryk for a moment and raised his hand. ¡°Your alright, Henryk Brown, your alright¡­but before this happens me and my brother need your help.¡±

    Henryk raised an eyebrow as Gerald continued. ¡°We don¡¯t have the best relationship with Mars, but just make sure that everyone plays nice. I¡¯ll keep Bricken in line so there won¡¯t be any hostilities back at the academy and in the future, but I need to know that we¡¯ll be safe.¡±

    Henryk thought for a moment, to his friends¡­to his knight brothers. Did any of them truly have it within there hearts to do such a thing? Sure, Axel was a douche but he still helped Henryk train with blades, Arthur did come from a feudal world and sometimes his beliefs could be annoying¡­but he was a Knight, like a time capsule superhero of a bygone age, Joeseph was distant and quiet, but after him and Ty¡¯s accident he always drove them and picked them up from work. Isaac can get a bit maddened during combat but Henryk saw the friendship between Isaac and Joeseph. And Ed, his friend, the one that let him into his house.

    ¡°No,¡± Henryk said. ¡°You will have nothing to fear.¡±

    Gerald was about to speak, but the younger was quicker. ¡°You think mere words¡­,¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about Pluto and House Mars,¡± Henryk bluntly stated silencing the brother. ¡°But I know my brothers¡­they won¡¯t harm a hair on your head.¡±

    And Gerald took his hand. ¡°Then, deal.¡±

    They made there move after that. Words were long, action was much more quicker. Henryk drew his sword into his right hand, and gripped Gerald¡¯s¡­no, his plasma pistol into his grip.

    The brothers ran by his opposing sides, and as they came into view, the GrimGar¡¯s backs were all they could see. ¡°Kill them all!¡± Shouted Gerald and he released his smg into the crowd. The once buckling and laughing creatures were reduced to smush, but the ones still alive were blazed away by plasma or cut and diced by the flurry of blades.

    One GrimGar made his way towards Henryk, whirling and slashing a great axe. Henryk dodged a blow and slammed his blade, the blade slicing clean and hot like butter through the monsters shoulder as it buckled backwarads. Henrky only rose his plasma pistol, and pulled the trigger, bathing everything and everyone in blazing blue light.

    His breath shook again, his heart beating harder and harder within his chest and he struggled with his thoughts. He was shaking. ¡°Henryk,¡± And it was a different voice.

    ¡°Hey, Joeseph,¡± Henryk tried to smile, but his visage only made him look grim. Red upon red, and now features and strands of his brown hair were now speckled with red blood.

    Joeseph¡¯s hand went to Henryk¡¯s shaking form. ¡°Henryk, your okay,¡± He stated. ¡°Take a breather and relax.¡±

    ¡°Relax after all of that,¡± Henryk spoke as he gritted his teeth. ¡°We¡¯ve been killing things all day¡­you all said that this was going to be an in and out mission.¡±

    ¡°Things change, countrymen,¡± Replied Arthur, and he rose his maimed hand. ¡°Just be glad that things aren¡¯t all worse.¡±

    That was when Gerald and Bricken approached them. ¡°Woah!¡± Shouted Isaac and he leveled his gun, and the other brothers leveled theres, Henryk quickly ran between them.

    ¡°This was exactly what I was talking about Gerald.¡± Spoke Bricken.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Whispered Gerald back.

    Henryk rose both hands between the pair. ¡°Enough!¡± He shouted. ¡°I gave them guarantee of safe passage.¡±

    ¡°You did what!¡± Isaac yelled.

    Joeseph shot him a look. ¡°Isaac, calm the hell down!¡± He shouted and looked at the Pluto boys. ¡°I am sorry, my friend, he¡­¡±

    ¡°Fuck that!¡± Shouted Isaac. And then he pointed at the druid and the brothers. ¡°I requgnize there colors. Plutonian, they don¡¯t forget, you expect me to fight side by side with someone who¡¯s going to easily frag one of us in the back?¡± He questioned.

    ¡°You speak of us betraying you?¡± Snorted Bricken. ¡°Fucking hypicrote.¡±

    ¡°Watching your fucking mouth boy!¡± Snapped back Isaac.

    Bricken only chuckled underneath his breath.

    ¡°Funny really?¡± Questioend Issac. ¡°Hey, how was your planet after what Damien did to you?¡±

    Bricken snorted. ¡°How¡¯s your already dead world?¡±

    And Arthur seized Isaac¡¯s gun before it could be raised. Shooting him a stern look through his helmet. ¡°You are starting this and there are civileans and the innocent that need us,¡± Isaac was still fighting within his grip. ¡°You are a Knight of Mars, Isaac!¡± He practically shouted. ¡°Conduct yourself with more honor.¡±

    And Issac paused at that, and his gun slowly started to descend. ¡°Good then,¡± Axel bluntly stated. ¡°We need to go.¡± And he had been peering out the window this whole time. For a moment, he thought he saw something flying. A great mass of debri that had formed, the trash and other litter of debri forming tendrals as he slowly backed away, it was maybe, two to three miles off.

    They started running again. From there little side track, they quickly made there way back to the next floor¡¯s emergency exit staircase and quickly cut through there. Before they knew it, Isaac was the first to breach, and light quickly came down the dark hallway.

    Henryk swiftly tasted the dust and ash within the air as he heaved, his stomach chrurned as bile expelled from his guts, warm and watery.

    ¡°Fuck, that¡¯s nasty,¡± Replied Axel as he shook his head.

    The others spread around. Checking the corners and they could hear. ¡°Clears all around,¡±

    Henryk was on the roof, his laser rifle aimed, but even he torn his gaze as he witnessed the destruction. ¡°They¡¯ll pay for this.¡± He heard a young man uttur to his side, but Henryk only kept his eyes fixated. Isaac did have a point, lock onto the mission, and everything gets a hell of a lot simpler.

    ¡°Henryk, over here!¡± Shouted Vinnie as he waved him over.

    Aiden rushed to there position. The radio dish appeared old, probably made during the earlier years of when this place was just a colony and just stayed, but that was not on there mind as Bracken descended onto the machinery. He whirled the compartments open and then paused, making his way to Henryk¡¯s backpack.

    ¡°Okay, we can just replace the radio port with¡­,¡± He sighed and ran back to the radio station. Digging his hand into it¡¯s mechanical guts, and they heard a snapping hiss as his hand retracted holding a faint item the size of ones wrist, cubic and streaming of electric volts.

    ¡°A small powered generator?¡± Questioned Vinnie, ain¡¯t that a bit overkill.

    Bracken went to Henryk¡¯s back and started to work the compartments. His power pack was completely fine, but something must¡¯ve hit one of the walls of the sewer when he drowned. Because the radio had stopped working, but now as something was chuked from the suit, the generator replaced it.

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Edward, are you there!¡± He shouted.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Edward shouted back. ¡°Where the hell are all of you!¡±

    ¡°Joeseph where we at!¡± Henryk yelled.

    Joeseph threw his gaze over the roof. Looking for any landmarks, but instead his gaze descended upon the street signs. ¡°We¡¯re off Logan Avenue.¡±

    Ed sighed. ¡°That¡¯s good now let me¡­,¡± There was tapping of a keyboard. ¡°Got you, expect me in less than five!¡± He shouted.

    Henryk nodded, and a small smirk emerged. ¡°He said less than five!¡± He shouted to the crowd, and there was whoops even amongst the Sons of Mars. ¡°We¡¯re going to be saved.¡± Henryk spoke with a rattling breath as his free hand went to his features, soon the nightmare was going to end. Or, that was what they thought.

    A massive bang¡­it echoed through and racked there ear drums. Henryk unslung his laser rifle. ¡°Ed, come quick.¡± Henryk spoke, and he saw the great legions that were coming to descend upon them.

    <u>Edward</u>

    Ed had sat across the desk from Mathias, the Governor of Oceana II, and Martian Loyalist to House Mars and loyal true empress. Mathias and Ed were passing around a lit cigar as they spoke between puffs.

    ¡°Your father was a good man¡­and your mother was truly one of the most pleasant and funniest women I ever met,¡± He paused and sighed. ¡°I know that many did not like the fact that she was a commoner, but they forget the true history,¡± He roused the cigar upwards. ¡°Martian Kings take there brides, your father took his, there is an honor in the old way.¡±

    Ed was silent at that. ¡°Mathias, Mars can never be rebuilt.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Stated Mathias plainly. ¡°We must change and advance, this is a new dawn, and I see House Mar¡¯s lucky star on the rise.¡±

    Ed smiled. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good to hear, because we need help,¡± Ed grew silent. ¡°I was told by her, that you would be waiting for me,¡± He paused and steadied himself. ¡°It¡¯s been rough not having any money at House Mars, the men are demorilized, and this bunch are broken from what happened to the planet. We need help.¡±

    Mathias took a long drag of his cigar, and he rested his hand downwards. ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡±

    And a relieved breath echoed from Ed. ¡°What do you need?¡± He questioned. ¡°You stated that you came for a mission, correct?¡± Mathias spoke as well.

    Ed nodded along.

    Mathias continued. ¡°You must understand that House Neptune and House Mercury are vying for this place, the last thing they want are the Martian Remenants to start popping upon once again, then, there would be a threat to who truly owns the sector.¡±

    ¡°Could start another war,¡± Spoke Ed.

    Mathias nodded and rose from his chair, he then directed his gaze downwards to the city infront of him. ¡°They have been trying to pine for a royal daughter of the Oceana System,¡± And Mathias turned to face him.

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I thought that arranged marriages were against the abhorants?¡± He questioned.

    Mathias scoffed. ¡°The Martians practiced it and even the Neptunians would deny it, but that aspect was followed within there history, don¡¯t be confused by there great futuristic societies, same could be said to Venus as well. Oceana Prime, Oceana II, and Oceana III were all awarded to House Mars, but Oceana 4 was the black sheep of it all with Neptunian blue. Now, did you know that Mercury has been involved in dealing with Jacen¡¯s pirates?¡±

    Edward¡¯s face grew with rage. Years passing in an instant along his minds eye. White speckled grey skin along the hot summer desert, a girl, younger than him¡­the smile of a sister not defined by blood, but by loyalty. The King of Mars and The Empress of The Universe.

    ¡°Your not a fan of them?¡± Questioned Mathias, already knowing the answer.

    ¡°You have no idea,¡± He bluntly stated. ¡°After the fall of Mars¡­they captured me and my Ma,¡± He paused. ¡°Took us to a labor camp and worked her to death. So, yeah, when I hear them it really pisses me off.¡±

    Mathias was silent, but he continued. He was a king, he needed to hear this. ¡°Jacen¡¯s pirates have been causing problems on all four planets for the last couple of months, but due to the new election occurring on Oceana 4, and there more lenient nature with pirates.¡±

    ¡°Lenient?¡± Edward repeated.

    ¡°They lock them up and try to rehilbiltate them,¡± Mathias stated, but then he smirked. ¡°We martian lot don¡¯t play with no brigand. Heads on spikes, and that kept them away, but there is something brewing within the planet, I do not know what it is. But there have been more disspereneces¡­I don¡¯t believe it¡¯s brigand related.¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened at that. ¡°Then, what do you think it is?¡±

    Mathias was still staring. ¡°I do not know,¡± He paused and looked towards a photo on his desk for a moment, of a young girl. ¡°I¡¯ve sent my daughter away, the other planets have already elected governors, but I am the last of true martian stock, they are a traditional sort, I do not blame them¡­but if that Neptune Brat marries my daughter. The system shall be hers, Neptune and Mars, and I doubt they¡¯ll be loyal to the latter the kin she¡¯ll bear.¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°The Sector will have a new allegiance, and that will start to spread,¡±

    ¡°Two planets loyal to mars¡­two loyal to Neptune, now it¡¯s equal, and in these trying times we can¡¯t have that,¡± He paused. ¡°There are enemies all around us, Ed. I am sure that there are some close to me that come from the trueblood of Mars, but they wear the chains of Neptune. My daughter must not be allowed to marry some Neptune Prince, not that Logan of Neptune¡¯s bastard older brother!¡± He shouted, and his voice rocked the room.

    Ed was silent. Mathias sighed, and wished to apoglzie for his outburst, but instead choose to speak again of anaylitics. ¡°Yes, that is why we need to be smart about this¡­how about due to hearing about your tough situation, and feeling quite considerate that you dealt with the issue plagueing the city. A 200,000 credit stipend¡­¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened, and he could¡¯ve cried, finally! They could hire someone to run repairs on the house. He nearly wanted to pass out at the fact that Arthur didn¡¯t need to cook in there fireplace no more, that Jacob and Isaac didn¡¯t need to walk across the campus to play there video games, for Ty to do his homework, for Henryk to make his music¡­

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    ¡°But that¡¯s not the real transaction that is coming here,¡± He started to walk back to his desk. And he started to type, a minute passed before he started to speak again, his eyes still locked onto the computer infront of him as he flipped the screen. ¡°I told my assistant to wheel you out ten suits of mechs¡­there pilot worthy. Five for five pilots, and the other five for replacement¡­¡±

    ¡°Woah, woah, Governor,¡± Ed rose. ¡°Your going to give us mechs as well?¡±

    ¡°No, I am not,¡± Stated Mathias. ¡°This whole event did not happen. I did not give you any mechs, but there will be mechs within your transport. Along with the necessary armaments.¡±

    Ed drew silent and gazed at the screen that Mathias turned for him to see. ¡°That¡¯s the mech?¡± He questioned. ¡°You don¡¯t have any martian crafts?¡±

    Mathias¡¯s eyes flared and he chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s funny my king,¡± He stated, and he sighed hard. ¡°After the fall, much knowledge has been lost, many have destroyed the codexes to make more suits. So, I am afraid that you are going to have to find supply caches.¡±

    Ed groaned. ¡°Damn,¡± He stated. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bunch of guys that could benefit from having that firepower, not just warcasket, but personal arms as well,¡±

    Mathias shrugged his shoulders as he handed the smoke back to Ed. ¡°Try your luck Edward, maybe you can find something, it¡¯s dangerous to prospect Martian crafts¡­we were the best of the best, so if we were killed by something out there, then what chance do you have?¡±

    Ed¡¯s features steeled at that. ¡°What is the model called?¡± He asked.

    The model infront of Edward was of bipedal design. A medium sized Warcasket with moderate armor across it¡¯s body. It looked sturdy but sleek, utalarian, but as well held a creative edge that one could put there own flare onto it.

    It was a predominately white painted mech, but had dull military blue ascents along the chest armor which looked stiff and sturdy, it¡¯s shoulders, it¡¯s knees were heavily reinforced, lets as well. The joints had this strange fabric covering them, making them appear far more agile.

    ¡°The guys called it the XI ¨C MP1, but they simply called it MP1¡¯s for short.¡±

    Yet, Ed¡¯s eyes drawn to the helmet. It¡¯s visor was a dull deactivated orange, surrounded by that white. Mathias started to scroll through the pictures as Ed absorbed the new designs on screen as Mathias started to speak. ¡°There are five total mechs, each armed with there own arnaments, the information will be stored on the command mech.¡±

    ¡°Command mech?¡± Stated Ed. ¡°What are these?¡±

    ¡°Mass production mechs,¡± Stated blankly Mathias. ¡°There is no Mars left sire. So, the only recruits that we are going to find can be those that can enter normal mechs. These ones, these new ones, the pilot¡¯s heart will be in the chest.¡±

    And Ed nodded along with that. Yet, his gaze drawn to Mathias. ¡°Mathias,¡± He called out.

    The Governor turned to him. ¡°Have you heard anything about the Martian Arc Core?¡±

    Mathias¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°As much as you do, probably, Sire.¡±

    Ed sneered. ¡°I can remember everyones reaction¡­he was flying so fast and he was killing them all and for a brief moment you thought he was going to win, but he was cut down and cut through the atmosphere,¡± Ed paused and leveled himself. ¡°Mathias, if we are going to rebuild House Mars I need the power of the Martian Arc, it is my birthright.¡±

    Mathias raised his hand. ¡°You are right, sire, and all in do time, however, we cannot rush this. Luckily, we know that the craft is on Mars¡­reaching out is a whole other matter in general.¡±

    Ed paused. ¡°We just need to find a map of the capitol, that was where he had to have crashed,¡±

    ¡°But navigating it Sire is going to be a hell of itself,¡± He bluntly stated. ¡°Before you get your wits, the monsters, or the plagues will snuff the life from you.¡±

    Edward was silent, and his fingers rolled into fist, so useless he thought to himself. All these obstacles objecting his main goal and¡­

    Mathias¡¯s sigh was heavy and evident. ¡°Take your time with this, Sire. Taking back your kingdom and carving your realm won¡¯t happen overnight, but savor this money, and take pride in your machines.¡±

    Edward had a small smile appear from his face.

    Mathias dropped the last of the cigar in his smoketray as he rose. ¡°Well, sire, I have other meetings and work that must be done, but let me walk you out.¡±

    Ed nodded along as Mathias continued talking. Entering the elevator as the ground opened on the groundfloor. The same guards were astonished to find the governor laughing along with Ed. Shooting glances at there advancing backs.

    ¡°I am going to send my assistant to drive you back,¡± Mathias stated.

    Ed waved it off. ¡°It¡¯s all good, Mathias,¡±

    ¡°Did you walk here,¡± Mathias shook his head. ¡°No king should walk. I¡¯ll just call up my assistant and¡­,¡± Mathias was digging into his phone. Ed was staring at his face, and everything started to run in slow motion.

    A great light flashed infront of them all, like the sky was alight within Mathias¡¯s brown eyes, and then the tremor came. The crowd that was within the office, the great crowd were thrown off there feet, furniture flying, and Edward could hear the cars wheeving all over the road in a desperate scramble.

    Edward raised his eyes on the ground for he was spared from the blast, but the broken window glass littered like snow flakes. But outside there was fire in a massive blast that rose upwards to the sky¡­and those great floating cars wheeved and crashed into buildings.

    The ground broke from underneath them as great claws started to grasp onto the surface. The populace, the crowd, some had started to run inside the building. People were still struggling to get up from the sudden blast¡­but Ed already had Mathias up and working his way to the stairs. That was when they heard the crackle of assault gun fire.

    People started to fall around them, it was a miracle that Ed was able to get away from the thick of it, but it was probably how they dipped around a corner. A corner, that was the only reason why they survived and the others died. He didn¡¯t even want to think about the women and children that were in the lobby with them

    People started falling as the security guards from before started to rush towards the onslaught as they passed them by. Ed not offering a second glance as¡­

    Mathias was coughing blood as Ed kicked open the emergency door to the staircase. He laid Mathias down as he gazed downwards and¡­

    ¡°Fuck it nipped your artery,¡± Spoke Ed, and he started to take off his suit jacket and wrap it like a turnicout, but the blood still sprouted. ¡°Mathias, Mathias, I am¡­¡±

    ¡°Protect, my daughter¡­Samantha,¡± Mathias pleaded. Tears welling within his eyes. ¡°The last of royal martian blood flows through me to her. They¡¯ll come after her¡­ and the rest,¡± He grunted the words through pain. And for a moment his eyes glazed over. And Ed seized him.

    ¡°My king, the others¡­Governor Norsel of Prime and Governor Jacobson of III. They are still loyal to the house, and my death may invigorate the Neptunians or Mercurians. They will come for her,¡± Spoke Mathias through blood clotting his whole pant leg. He dug into his pants and drew his keys. ¡°Take my keys and go up to my office. I¡¯ve got my floating car within a secret compartment within the room. It opens on the outside¡­privacy.¡±

    Ed took the keys and stared at them for a moment, and then put them into his pants. His gaze drifted up the steps and he debated if he could drag Mathias up there, but while he was a young man. It was over ninety flights, the adrenaline flowing through him was one of there only saving graces.

    ¡°Stay with me!¡± He shouted. He¡¯d came to late to save Sir William, but he woulden¡¯t fail to save Mathias. ¡°Please!¡± He shouted.

    But Mathias was already gone, his words in rambles, the last words of a dying old man. ¡°I always wanted the best for you¡­for you to live the way you want to love the way you wanted,¡±

    And tears welled into his eyes. And for a moment Ed knew that while his daughter wasen¡¯t there, to him, she was. And that saddened Ed to the core. Was this how Sir William had died, alone, and withering¡­a relic of a bygone era? Was this what they were going to amount to?

    ¡°They¡¯ll protect you with there great mechs, they¡¯ll slaughter all those that will try and harm you, and they will restore the glory of our House. For they are the Knights of Mars.¡± And Mathias¡¯s words came out in a steeple of blood.

    But Ed¡¯s features turned into determination. ¡°Mathias, I promise you, on the honor of my father¡­that your daughter will have everything and more.¡±

    And for a brief moment, Mathias smiled as he passed on the steps.

    Edward rose, his hands slick with blood as he started to back up as his back his the wall. ¡°Holy shit, holy shit,¡± He whispered to himself as his fingers tightened into fist. ¡°Oh my god¡­what am I going to tell Daniella? He was meant to be our lifeline.¡±

    And Ed wanted to punch the wall, but he slowly tried to steady himself as he stared at the corpse of the old man. ¡°I can¡¯t worry about that right now, now isn¡¯t the time for that,¡± He murmured. He took a heavy breath and approached the emergency exit door, it had a thin pane of glass that one could see through. Ed pressed his back to the wall and peered through the hole. The once sunny day was now a smoggy orange.

    Destruction laid in the wake, Ed able to see the hand of a woman poking from debri, as fire was chewing up the rugs and curtains on the opposite of the great room. However, as Ed continued to watch, he started to realize that someone was¡­

    Or rather something as he saw the great bulk of the creature. Holding in one hand an assault rifle that he dragged on the ground, and in his other hand a machete that was slicked with blood. He threw his gaze around the room, his sharklike teeth draining the light as his visage passed over Ed for a moment and kept on going¡­then snapped back to Ed.

    Ed was frozen for a moment¡­then it started laughing. That was when Ed started running. Up, and up, and up. He heard the slamming of the door beneath him, but he kept running. Up and up and up, he kept running. Even as his heart was thumping, even as his legs thrashed around, he kept running.

    For a moment, he hopped and started slipping off his dress shoes, he was in a suit for christ sake. But then he threw his gaze back when he was on his left shoe. The GrimGar from below had dropped his assault rifle, now he borne that shark like smile and was smirking evily and laughing as it raced up the steps towardas him. ¡°Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!¡± And it all became a blur to Ed.

    He rememberd that they needed special permission to get into the elevator, meaning that this key was probably utilized to enter the governor¡¯s main office, he kept running¡­nearly tripping, but running as his ankle throbbed but the adrenaline disspitated the pain.

    Then he was up there. He whirled the key into the lock and whirled the door open, and the GrimGar was at his ankles, he dodged the machete blow and whirled underneath it. Pulling out the key and slamming the door infront of the creatures face.

    The GrimGar roared as it pulled out the machete, slamming the glass as Ed started to look around the room, his gaze went towards the corner of the adjacent wall, there was a door and through the blown away glass of the destroyed city on the side the building was slightly larger. A decent sized hanger for a car.

    Yet, Ed¡¯s mind drawn to the Governor¡¯s computer, there were things on there¡­he was dead and he knew he shouldn¡¯t, but should all that knowledge go lost?

    Ed shook his head and made his way towards the computer. His hands ripping the back part as the machete was relgiousily hacking chops of the door. Ed practically ripped out the harddrive and started running out the room, whirling the garage door open he flicked on the lights. Slamming the door shut and locking it.

    It was a modest looking garage, and Ed was gazing around it. The car was in the middle, a platinum grey with black tinted windows, with an open canopy. Ed went to the garage doors that had an illuminated buttons, this one was red, the other was a dectavted green and he flicked that one on. For a moment the door opened beneath him and Ed was greeted by dust and air¡­he marved with disgust at the city beneath him.

    ¡°What happened here¡­,¡± He questioned with horror filling his eyes. His gaze stretching to the great fog and the crackle of gunfire in the distance. Yet, his gaze as well drifted towards something in the far corner of the expanse¡­great masses of debri were floating, tentacles sprouting from them, but Ed could see something peel away like a door¡­and a GrimGar was grabbing more and more of themselves and hauling themselves within the craft.

    ¡°Are the GrimGar, spaceborn?¡± Edward marved with horror clouding his vision.

    Then, his minds eye was broken as the machete started hacking at the locked garage door. Ed instanly started making his way to the car, he jammed the key and turned and the power turned on as he started to float.

    ¡°Cool.¡± He marveled, and then he planted his foot onto the breaks. He zoomed forth towards the dock, passing by the destruction, as he experienced the early moments of the GrimGar invasion of Oceana II. They shot at him, but he would swerve through the streets¡­it was when he made it to the dock that he saw the more aerial presience and land based cars they started to utilize along his trip.

    He deacativated the car within the massive open hanger. Whirling it to the stop as engineers and civileans had come up. They watched him with scared eyes as he descended.

    ¡°Sir, who are you?¡± A security officer arose from the crowd.

    Ed pointed to the great transport vessal that was above them. ¡°The guy that runs that vessal¡­and if you want to get off this planet. I say that you come along.¡± The security officer looked around at the forty something number of people.

    Ed faced the crowd. ¡°I am not going to tell you to abandon your friends and families, but I was out there and its messy,¡± He paused. ¡°It¡¯s better to seek safety right now so you won¡¯t be detrimental to the recovery effort of others.¡± And his words came out as a soothing balm.

    Ed drew his gaze to the mechanics. ¡°You guys working on my ship?¡± He questioned.

    They nodded, and one of the seniors approached. ¡°The Governor told us to top off your ship and all your mechs as well, everything has been delivered,¡±

    Ed went silent. ¡°Thank you, Mathias. I will never forget the debt I owe you and your daughter.¡± And his mind flashed back to his promise. He may have failed Mars, William, and now Mathias¡­but he would not tarnish there memory, no more.

    But then his mind went to a far distant memory. Of an antlered knight that beat all of Jace¡¯s champions, the same knight that was accused of assault Jace¡¯s sister¡­it couldn¡¯t have been Henryk, but the sight of antlers now made Ed sick.

    Ed waved it off, this was not the time and place for that. ¡°Good then, we need to get the hell out of here.¡±

    <u>Henryk</u>

    ¡°Move, move, move!¡± Shouted Isaac as he aimed his Executor rifle at the stream of GrimGar that had came up from the emergency exit stairs. His and Henryk¡¯s laser rifle ripped through flesh and muscle alike. Gerald¡¯s machine gun joined the fray as it hammered within his shoulder.

    Arthur was busy dueling two GrimGar at once. There machetes darting along his armor as he whirled a kick that struck one across the face, and then utlizng the momentum whirled his blade down across the other¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°How many more minutes do we have to hold out!¡± Shouted Bracken as he ejected another pack.

    ¡°Fuck if I know little brother,¡± Stated Gerald, he reached for another mag but his face formed into a sneer. ¡°I¡¯ve got one last mag left and then I¡¯m finished!¡±

    ¡°That was always the issues with you Plutonians,¡± Snorted Isaac. ¡°You lot never understood the glory and necessity of the melee.¡±

    Axel lined a shot snapping through a GrimGar¡¯s throat as he went to his belt, chucking a grenade as Joeseph¡¯s axe sliced through flesh and bone alike.

    The little girl screamed. A GrimGar took his aim and¡­

    Issac came rushing towards her. Grabbing her and whirling her around him as his armor soaked up the crude bullets of the GrimGar. He then leveled his great rifle and pulled the trigger, this time he had far more control, the two bullets tore through two adjacent parts of it¡¯s chest cavity. Isaac scooped the girl up and dropped her to where the other civileans had went to be shielded.

    ¡°He should¡¯ve been here a minute ago!¡± Shouted Henryk.

    Bricken slammed his hand hard along a piece of steel vent equipment. ¡°Damn it!¡± He shouted. ¡°We need Warcasket heavy support!¡± He shouted. ¡°¡­or tankes, or LMG¡¯s, or heavy arnaments or¡­¡±

    ¡°That would be super sweet!¡± Cheered Isaac sarcastically. ¡°You also want a cake!¡± And as he pulled the trigger a GrimGar¡¯s head was knocked clear.

    Then, the boom came, the whirring of engines started to echo within there ears as there transport brushed away the already meager and destroyed buildings. ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± Shouted Ed into Henryk¡¯s radio. ¡°Henryk, is everyone there?¡± He shouted and he started rapidly approaching towards them. ¡°I am going to open the lift. Get you and all the civileans with you on this vessal stat!¡± He shouted.

    ¡°Come on everyone, let¡¯s go!¡± He shouted.

    He ran towards the civilean¡¯s side as he popped upon a shot with his plasma gun that torne through the GrimGar. Here he was saving the innocent¡­fighting.

    ¡°Like a real knight,¡± The Girl spoke to him. The little girl in her moms arm smiled at him, and in her eyes he saw Diana and Jennie, his own sisters. Was that why he was doing this? To help those in need. And he smiled at that¡­squire, knight, there was honor  in that. And he was glad to be apart of a bigger thing, and had his brothers along the way as well.

    The transport doors opened onto the side as the civileans came first. The rest firing off there final shots as¡­ ¡°Out of ammo!¡± Gerald shouted.

    ¡°Then get on the vessal!¡± Shouted Vinnie as he seized Author and the others scrambled upon the ship. Yet, Henryk lingered, fireing shot after shot of red fury into the growing crowd.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± His name sounded like he was underwater. One jumped up on a piece of vent and tried to jump ontop of him, he whirled his opposing hand to his plasma pistol and shot forth, the blue beam burst a whole through it¡¯s chest as it collapsed mid air to his side.

    Isaac seized him and dragged him into the hold. ¡°Henryk, what the hell was¡­,¡± Isaac began, but Joeseph slammed the door to the transport shut. The door started to wind open and Edward started to break free of the cityscape and start whirling upwards to the sky.

    ¡°Is everyone¡­,¡± Henryk began breathlessly. On the floor and his back pressed against the wall of the transport.

    Arthur nodded along. ¡°Yes, everything is alright¡­we survived this.¡± And there was a silence in the air at that.

    ¡°Not everyone,¡± Gerald responded with a shrug. ¡°I lost two of my guys¡­and god knows what this experience is going to do to the planet. Hell, I pity the children.¡±

    And as Gerald spoke those words Henryk¡¯s radio boomed. It was Ed. ¡°Guys, I need everyone up in the cockpit right now!¡±

    All of them raced, but Vinnie¡¯s hand came halting Arthur. ¡°You can¡¯t do anything right now. Your going to sit out and get treated in the med bay along with the rest of the civileans.¡±

    Arthur could only sigh and register defeat. The rest raced into the medium sized command deck. Ed manning the ship¡¯s controls. ¡°We haven¡¯t broken atmosphere yet?¡± Questioned Bracken.

    Ed sneered. ¡°We¡¯re going off with the other civilian and military crafts that have been fleeing off planet,¡± And as they spoke they saw them, more and more in the distance arising.

    ¡°It¡¯s a mass exodus,¡± Commented Issac.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like that before,¡± Axel murmured as he rose his finger to the numerous ships outside. ¡°Smuggler, military, police, medical there all¡­¡±

    Then, black dots started to appear to the side of the great contingent of fleets, and on there side possibly a mile off. It caught the ship to beep for the undidentfied craft.

    Those great tendral things. They were getting closer and closer to the fleet of ships¡­and then rockets and gatling gun fire were tearing them down from the sky. Men, women, children, families, co-workers, were all getting shto down and burning alive. There ships exploding and debri raining downwards as the Sons of Mars and Squad Pluto could only recoil in stunned horror.

    Ed acted quickly. ¡°I want everyone on battlestations!¡± He shouted. ¡°There are turrent encampments along the vessal¡­also, there are Warcaskets.¡±

    ¡°Warcaskets!¡± Shouted Joseph astonished, and the others were just as equally surprised. ¡°Where the hell did you¡­¡±

    But Henryk had already broken off into a sprint. Running past everyone as they already knew his destination. Axel sneered, and drew his gaze back to the fleet that was being pluked out of the sky, and quickly ran to the join Henryk.

    ¡°There is no time, Joeseph,¡± Spoke Edward. ¡°These things are killing the populace mercilessly, we¡¯re knights!¡± And his voice boomed like an arrow. It invigorated them all, and they took there battle stations.

    Henryk opened the hanger doors. Now, before it was sparse and empty, now it was laden with gear and mechs. In a long hallway like strip the heads and chest of the mech¡¯s were visible and open, he walked through them all, there was no time for specfics.

    Henryk slinked his way into one of the mechs with a massive tank cannon on it¡¯s right shoulder. He heard footsteps folling behind him.

    ¡°Nice pick, druid,¡± Stated Axel as he ran by his side. Taking one without any of the additional arnaments or upgrades to the model.

    ¡°Wish I didn¡¯t leave my sword back at the hanger at the academy,¡± Stated Henryk. ¡°Would¡¯ve been useful having an Evisceration Blade about now. Especially mech patterened.¡±

    Joeseph and Isaac both came into mechs of there own. They flicked on the power and the radio, flicking through the pilot presets. ¡°Damn these presets,¡± Snorted Isaac. Flicking through them. ¡°So many damn different ways to pilot a mech¡­but the one you want the most.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s mech¡¯s visor bursted with orange light. The mech¡¯s hands rising and leg¡¯s moving around, Henryk started playing around with his mech¡¯s thrusters. ¡°Look¡¯s like the druids got it,¡± Replied Joeseph.

    Then more footsteps approached. It was Gerald and Bracken.

    Bracken quickly rushed to speak to him. ¡°Henryk, I am a pilot as well¡­lend me one of your mechs for this battle and I¡¯ll aid you.¡±

    Before Aiden could respond, Isaac¡¯s voice roused from his mech in the corner. ¡°¡­and who¡¯s going to pick through the slag of the mech when your dead in it?¡± Questioned Isaac.

    Bracken shot him a look, but Isaac only chuckled.

    Henryk leveled his eyes. ¡°Fight with us, Bracken.¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± Spat Isaac. ¡°Joeseph you allowing this?¡± He bluntly stated.

    Joeseph only just shook his head. ¡°¡­any decent pilot right now is going to be worthwhile.¡±

    And Bracken¡¯s features turned into a smirk. ¡°Trust me, you won¡¯t regret this.¡±

    Time was of the esscense and Henryk¡¯s expression darkened as he worked the controls of his arms. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this. I¡¯m ready to sortie!¡± He shouted. ¡°Ed, clear me!¡± He shouted.

    Ed flicked a button and flicked it. All the hanger doors opened from behind the mech¡¯s as the stub arms of the vessal went to the work. ¡°Henryk, the Warcaskets are space combat worthy.¡± He spoke.

    And Henryk smirked. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you pulled this off,¡± He spoke as he felt the weight of his arnaments clink to his mech. His hands greeted an elongated sniper type rifle with a big scope and¡­laser operated. The left drawing upon a machine gun with a folded stock.

    The backpack worked a stub arm that handed a shield into his backpack¡¯s arm and it loomed to protect the left side of Henryk.

    He was shot forth from the vessal, Henryk staring through the view port as the cockpit closed, he seized his controls and throtteled forward. His mech responded and blue fire came ignited from his back. The other¡¯s followed suit, they shot forth, like ravens along the diseased sky as they descended upon the clumps of debri that the GrimGar have somehow harnessed into working machines.

    The GrimGar started firing, roaring as they took evasive manuvers to avoid there rocket and machine gun fire. This was the real deal¡­peoples lives were at stake, and that earlier hesitation had zapped away from Henryk. He whirled his machine gun forward and pulled the trigger, the debri vessal exploded under the weight of two shots. The other adjacent was put down by one shot of his laser rifle.

    The weapon boomed with power¡­creating a bronze-orange beam that striked and made a hole that pierced the laser forth and into the ground.

    ¡°Be easy with that one,¡± Regarded Axel from Henryk¡¯s radio. ¡°These laser arms pack quite the punch.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± Snorted Isaac as they started to throttle forth towards the vessals traveling. Eyeing the wave of Grimgar that were following after them with there crude vessals.

    Ed radioed straight to Henryk¡¯s mech, ¡°Multiple hostiles are approaching us¡­defend us!¡± He shouted loud.

    ¡°Alright, men, fire!¡± Shouted Isaac.

    There was a carphony of bronze and orange lasers darting through the skies. The Grim Gar¡¯s large vessals were pierced and exploded after each shot, but Henryk drove his gaze towards an approaching squad of three that were making there way along the gulf of the vessal.

    He ignited the thrusters of his mech, challenging the speed of the martian transport shuttle, as he circled past the command area he knew Ed and the rest were watching him. As he whirled around the corner he saw the three approaching Grim Gar making there move. One even latching it¡¯s tendrals into the hull of the vessal.

    ¡°Henryk, structural damage!¡±  He shouted.

    Henryk did not speak, instead he acted. With a series of buttons, he slammed hard on a big red button. The tank cannon along his right shoulder released a devastating howl as the explosive grapeshot ripped through the approaching Grim Gar.

    The leading one was ripped from the sky. The explosion swallowing the second one, but the third appeared relatively unscathed as it¡¯s breathren fell through the sky. Henryk charged with his trhusters and wielded the stub arm of his shield, smashing the GrimGar vessal head on and breaking them clear and away from the vessal.

    The GrimGar returned fire. It¡¯s front almost like a makeshift cannon started to blast¡­orange energy?

    Henryk darted past the orange blast on his trhusters, deftly manuvering, and dodging the incoming blast approaching. He swiftly started to return fire with his machine gun, but he¡­

    ¡°What?¡± He questioned, tapping the trigger button, did he forget to set the machine gun preset? Yet, that didn¡¯t matter as the ship came hard, it¡¯s pincers connecting through the body of Henryk¡¯s mech.

    Henryk grunted as the ship started to tear him into the air, further and further hire.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Shouted Ed. ¡°Joeseph, Axel, Isaac!¡± Shouted Ed. ¡°Henryk is¡­,¡±

    However, Henryk did not have the time for that. Sweat appeared on his brow as within the black gullet of debri, a laser shot was being charged to be aimed point blank at him. He grunted as he whirled the stub arm containing the shield infront of his cockpit and his helmet¡­

    ¡°Henryk¡­,¡± Isaac¡¯ murmured his name over the radio, Axel, and Bracken as well whirling across the side of the vessal as all throse apparent. Even Arthur in the med bay was pressed against the window as¡­

    The blast came forth, the paint of Henryk¡¯s shield¡­white and blue was quickly blasted off to a weathered grey, and in some parts blackening as Henryk even felt the intense heat. He shut his eyes to spare his retinas¡¯s, but he still felt the pressure of the blast¡­the way his mech shook.

    He was taking heavy breaths, his mind going to the protocol book¡­but no! While this was mech, this was a mech, he had been piloting his whole life. He didn¡¯t need anything fancy before to save Logan or beat Piper¡­he was good. And the pride alone made him smile.

    ¡°Eddy!¡± He shouted over the haze.

    And Edward was frozen still at the display. But he could hear Henryk. ¡°Play some tunes.¡±

    And Ed complied, flicking on the radio, but even within the great cosmos there was frequencies to be found. The initial riff of a song opened, the bangs of the drums echoing within there eardrums, and Alex and Issac were shocked at the sudden music, but Bracken¡¯s lips were inching into an entertained smile. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got¡­druid.¡± He proclaimed slowly.

    Henryk dropped the machine gun¡­it was dead weight, but during his check within the mech, this machine had a melee weapon. He wielded the stub arm¡­half peering open and half not, and with a howl he wielded the weapon into his hands. The weapon ignited in a snapping hiss, and he plunged forth instinctiviely, the light ceased as his laser sword pierced through the front of the vessal.

    ¡°Your just some cobbled together trash!¡± Henryk shouted.

    The shield was practically rust and nearly burnt through, but the arms were still onto him as the ship started to smoke and then explosions started to appear. Henryk in a flurry of slashes sliced off the appendages and blasted away, the ship rippling into a wild and messy explosion behind Henryk.

    Henryk released the shield from his stub arm. Watching it fall and fade away into the cityscape.

    ¡°Woah,¡± Muttured Axel. ¡°For someone in a new mech, he adapts easy.¡±

    Isaac snorted. ¡°But that has always been Henryk,¡± He paused. ¡°We may have witnessed history.¡±

    ¡°Witnessed history?¡± Repeated Bracken.

    However Axel¡¯s features contorted as the trio hovered as Henryk moved towards them. Ed had already gave them the order to further defend the ship. The city was now slowly beginning to look small, but they¡¯d need them to help defend them if these damned creatures could breach atmosphere. The radio was already off¡­now only being shared by Axel, Bracken, and Isaac.

    Axel spoke. ¡°Ai, one successful mission does not make an Executor.¡± He spoke firmly.

    Isaac chuckled. ¡°Weren¡¯t you crying that he died under your watch?¡±

    Axel¡¯s features sneered, and Isaac continued as he watched Henryk¡¯s form approach. ¡°The Martian Executor¡¯s, before, they have always come at our darkest times¡­the Xeno Wars, they have been forged under trials by combats before,¡± He spoke the name with reservence. ¡°They always led a golden age¡­even Damien himself for the short time he was loyal, but Henryk,¡± He paused, and his gaze even lingered on Bracken himself. ¡°We fought like Martians today¡­there is pride in that.¡±

    And Bracken¡¯s eyes widened at that. His gaze narrowing at the coming mech. ¡°So, you¡¯re an Executor candidate.¡±

 Chapter 36 - New War - End of Book 1

    <u>Chapter 36 - New War - End of ARC II</u>

    <hr>

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper navigated through crowded hallways, bodies pressing close as she moved. Some civilians jostled for space in the cargo area, but Piper swiftly dealt with them, directing them to the brig with a firm hand. Sighing, she made her way to the mess hall, where families had erected makeshift tents.

    The sound of babies crying echoed off the walls as Mercurian doctors hurriedly tended to their needs. Ernest wove through the crowd, finally reaching Piper''s side amidst the throng of people.

    "Pipes," he called out to her.

    Piper drew closer until they stood side by side, surveying the sea of faces. Ernest let out a heavy sigh. "Now, this is one real big mess..."

    "I know," Piper replied with a sigh of her own. "But as long as we leave soon and drop them off on a planet loyal to Mercury, we can head back to the academy."

    Ernest''s sigh morphed into one of relief. "Yeah, I''m craving heading back home," he admitted, absently scratching at the cast encasing his burnt arm in a mess of plaststeel bandages. "At least we have enough supplies."

    Piper remained silent, and Ernest nudged her side with his elbow, prompting her to look up. He met her gaze with a smile. "This is all thanks to you, Pipes. Your quick thinking and skills saved the day."

    Piper waved off the praise. "Don¡¯t underestimate our troops," she insisted.

    Ernest shrugged. "You may say that, but you made the call."

    Piper''s eyes widened at the realization. "I made the call," she repeated softly to herself.

    Ernest turned his attention to the civilians. "I hate to admit it... but that machine may be cursed, yet it did its job of protecting our vessel," he remarked. "And if you had died out there... the morale of it all could''ve cost us the battle."

    But Piper remained silent, contemplating the weight of her actions. She was just a pilot, skilled perhaps, but she hadn''t fully grasped the impact her life had on those around her. She knew her family would mourn her, but the thought of Zephyr and the others...

    Her radio crackled to life, interrupting her thoughts. "Christ, what now?" she muttered, reaching for her radio.

    "Lieutenant Piper," the captain''s voice crackled through. "I wanted to inform you of recent developments. There are more transports coming up from the planet... and they wish to join us."

    Piper rubbed the back of her head, feeling a surge of annoyance. "Listen, we''ve already taken in extra passengers from all the vessels, but double-check to ensure they have any military vessels around them. Some ships might be banking on the luxury of protection from an Academy Ship."

    The captain fell into a tense silence for a moment. "They''ve radioed that they''re being assaulted by GrimGar," Piper was stunned into silence. "Everyone we rescued was fleeing from them on the world... are you telling me that a species as primitive as the GrimGar has evolved to master space travel?"

    There was a weighty pause. "All the transport vessels around them are broadcasting the same distress signal. If we take them with us, we''ll have a harder time leaving the sector. But if we abandon them without aid... they''re from the Academy as well. They''re even suggesting that if there are any issues, we should take the civilians and escort them from the sector. They''ll deal with the outliers."

    Piper was stunned by this revelation, as was Ernest, along with their fellow Mercurians and even the civilians, their heads bowed in resignation at the unfolding developments. "Who are they?" Piper demanded.

    The captain hesitated, his voice strained. "I know that President Gerald and his brother are on the lead vessel... the lead vessel, with GrimGar pouring in from all sides... House Mars."

    <u>Henryk</u>

    After dispatching the last GrimGar, Henryk regrouped with his Squad, flying alongside their main transport, now the flagship, its nose ablaze with cerulean fire as it broke through the cosmic expanse. Ed''s grip tightened on the controls, his teeth clenched, the strain evident as he pressed down on the ignition button.

    Meanwhile, Henryk and the others faced their own harrowing ordeal.

    "They just keep coming!" Bracken''s voice echoed through the commotion. His mech''s SMG rattled in his hands as he deftly maneuvered through the sparse air and zero gravity, outmaneuvering the GrimGar. Bullets tore through their crude vessels, causing explosions amidst the endless expanse of black.

    Isaac streaked past Bracken, his mech adorned with ten rack missile launchers. As he entered the fray, he observed the swarm of GrimGar, witnessing one of their ships exploding and hurtling towards the planet below. His features twisted into a disgusted sneer. "You damned insects," he muttered. "Only humanity was meant to inherit the stars!"

    Laughter echoed, a stark contrast to the whizzing of bullets slicing through the air. Isaac gripped the controls of his mech with white-knuckled intensity, maneuvering with desperate precision. As he dipped and barrel-rolled past a civilian transport command port, its crew and captain caught a brief glimpse of his mech ablaze with orange light.

    Missiles erupted from Isaac''s mech, shooting forth like bullets from a cartridge, each splitting into eight more projectiles, overwhelming the GrimGar before they could react. Joseph''s sniper rifle picked off any stragglers, ensuring the safety of the transport ship amidst the chaos of flames.

    Breathing heavily, Isaac surveyed the scene. Across the expanse, he witnessed Henryk''s mech blazing in blue fire as it tore through GrimGar assailants. With swift precision, Henryk dispatched them with his laser rifle, his tank cannon reducing them to smoldering wreckage. Another ship saved, in half the time.

    "So, you seek to test yourself, druid?" Isaac''s voice crackled over the radio as he propelled forward, rockets igniting as the rest of the squad followed suit, converging towards Henryk''s position. Together, they veered towards the flank, where another ship faced heavy assault.

    Henryk paused his music, tuning into the frantic transmissions of the vessel''s crew. "This is medical and military, urgent!" The captain''s voice rang out, urgency palpable in every syllable.

    Switching on his radio, Henryk''s voice cut through the chaos as he maneuvered towards the besieged vessel''s front. "Joseph, I need long-range support," he commanded, his mech arching towards the sky as he prepared for a freefall descent.

    Amidst the screams and chaos, Henryk plunged downwards, GrimGar mechs looming ominously. "Annoying crabs," he muttered as he engaged his thrusters, leveling his rifle and dispatching the enemies one by one, fiery explosions marking each decisive blow.

    "Shit," Henryk murmured, his gaze fixated on the heated barrel of his weapon. With practiced ease, he slinked the weapon back to his mech''s thigh using magnetics. Even as he descended, he maintained his composure. "This is Henryk Brown, of The Sons of Mars, here to help and aid!" His voice boomed, infused with the calm assurance of a seasoned warrior.

    Descending further, Henryk prepared to confront the remaining enemies. Joseph''s sniper rifle echoed with booming shots, each electrical blast tearing through the enemy ranks. Yet, the enemy had the advantage, two of them releasing their hold on the vessel, causing it to leak fire from its ruptured hull.

    With a swift cleave, Henryk descended upon the first GrimGar vessel. As tendrils thrashed, he deftly slashed them away. Peering beneath the vessel''s side, he noticed a disturbing sight. Unlike previous encounters, these vessels seemed constructed from ruined two-story buildings, with GrimGar operatives lurking within.

    Neptune''s words echoed in his mind¡ª"abomination." To some, within the Empire, the line between GrimGar and Wizard blurred. With resolve hardening, Henryk plunged his blade into the vessel, his determination unyielding.

    The second vessel surged towards him, lasers and tentacles lashing out. Henryk flicked on his music, finding rhythm in the chaos as he danced through the skies with his foe. A laser grazed dangerously close to his mech''s head, a narrow escape that sent a shiver down his spine.

    Thrusting forward, Henryk''s visor and helmet bore the brunt of the assault, darkness creeping into his field of vision. Yet, undeterred, his blade found its mark, striking true against the heart of the GrimGar vessel.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper strode with purpose through the bustling halls, her pilots trailing behind, navigating the crowded corridors with urgency. Time pressed against them, overriding any concern for bruised egos or personal space.

    "Piper!" Ernest''s voice cut through the din, drawing attention as he hurried to catch up. "Are you really going to do this?" he pressed, falling into step beside her.

    Piper shot him a determined glance, her steps unyielding. "What''s different about what we''re doing now?" she challenged, gesturing towards the throng of civilians filling the vessel. "There are more ships and more people out there... I won''t stand by and let anyone else die because we hesitated to act without Zephyr''s approval."

    "I''m asking for twenty to thirty minutes," Ernest declared firmly, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. "The Martians are bad news... this whole event is going to hit everyone''s TV, phone, and the internet. Heck, the Emperor is probably going to make a statement. We can''t be rash, Pipes," he implored, his gaze locking onto hers. "You think I don''t want to help? You don''t think I feel horrible?" His eyes flicked down to his cast, a silent testament to the recent turmoil. "I''m just the wrench boy," he admitted. "I don''t have the gift that you and the rest have."

    Piper fell silent, absorbing his words. "What gift?" she finally asked, her voice edged with curiosity.

    "The gift you, Lucas, Marcus, and even Simon had," Ernest replied, oblivious to the tension brewing beneath Piper''s surface.

    Ernest''s resolve hardened. "You represent House Mercury, Piper. Zephyr isn''t going to like this, and most especially the people back home," he warned. Piper remained silent, a hint of acknowledgment flashing in her eyes. "If you do this, I can''t promise that you won''t be demoted or kicked out."

    As Piper opened the hangar doors, the tension crackled in the air. Without a word from her, her pilots sprang into action, each one sliding into their mechs with practiced ease.

    Piper turned to face Ernest, her expression resolute. "I understand your concerns, Ernest, and I appreciate your worry," she began, her voice steady. "But I would rather face demotion or expulsion than allow people to die on my watch," she declared, her gaze piercing. "I will one day face my father again," she continued, her tone unwavering. "And when that day comes, I want to tell him that I lived my life with no regrets, doing what I believed was right."

    Ernest fell silent, his protest dying on his lips as Piper shook her head. "I''m going to do this," she affirmed, her eyes locking onto the ruins of the False Martian Warcasket. "I''ll take my plain vessel," she added.

    With purposeful strides, she made her way to her old mech, climbing into the seat with determination. "I want Heavy Caliber Placements!" she called out to Ernest, her resolve unyielding.

    Ernest climbed up, desperation etched across his features. "Piper, you can''t be serious... these are the Martians, the ones that maimed you!" he pleaded, his voice tinged with urgency.

    Piper''s fist collided with the console, the echo of her frustration reverberating through the cockpit. "I already told you that it wasn''t Henryk''s fault!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. With practiced precision, she initiated the suit''s systems, the mechanical appendages flexing and thrusters roaring to life in response to her command.

    "We can''t afford to lose anyone else," Ernest pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "Who will lead us if you''re gone? Marcus, Jeremiah, Todd, Eric... Simon and Lucas. They''re all gone or dead. We can''t afford to lose you."

    Piper''s expression twisted in defiance. "I won''t die," she declared adamantly, her resolve burning fiercely. "And as for Simon... well, screw him."

    Ernest''s eyes widened in surprise as Piper continued, her words dripping with bitterness. "Yeah, screw Simon," she spat. "That bastard. ''This is for Piper.'' What a load of crap! You know he went after Henryk for me... attacked him with a bat, called him an abomination too."

    Taking firm control of the console, Piper''s anger radiated like a storm about to break. "I completely misjudged him," she admitted bitterly. "I gave him that resignation letter to House Neptune to be with his girlfriend, yes, but also because I thought he understood people, Simon. Looks like I was dead wrong about him."

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "Pipes," Ernest began, but he faltered in the face of her intensity.

    "Simon is dead to me," Piper declared, her tone final and unwavering. "Enough talk... prepare me to sortie." With a steely determination, she focused on the task at hand, her resolve unshakable amidst the chaos surrounding her.

    <u>Henryk</u>Top of Form

    They soared through the upper reaches of the atmosphere, Henryk''s gaze drawn to the serene expanse of stars above. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he would ever have the chance to appreciate their beauty with the same peace again. But the tranquility shattered as the sharp staccato of machine gun fire echoed behind him.

    The GrimGar vessels had breached the atmosphere.

    "Unleash fury upon them!" Joeseph''s command cut through the chaos, rallying them to action. They moved as one, a synchronized dance of metal and determination.

    "Bracken, Isaac, Henryk," Joeseph''s voice crackled over the radio. "We must protect the medical vessel. There''s an emergency signal¡ªsomething''s amiss."

    Henryk and the others surged forward, their mechs cutting through the void with purpose. Yet, Bracken lagged behind, his own mechanical hand poised over the devastating beam mounted on Henryk''s mech. With a single pull of the trigger, he could eliminate the would-be Executor before his legend even began.

    But as his hand hesitated, a wave of uncertainty washed over him. Alone against the GrimGar, he knew he''d be overwhelmed in an instant if he acted rashly. Yet, as his mind raced, a chilling realization dawned.

    There were only three of them. Which meant...

    As they drew closer to the medical vessel, the transmission crackled into clarity. Joeseph toggled his radio, greeted by the grim sight of a crew strewn across the command center, their fate hanging in the balance. A young man, with wisps of grey in his hair, lay propped up amid the chaos.

    "Hello... captain," Joeseph ventured cautiously.

    The young man stirred, his voice hoarse. "Captain?" he rasped, a wry chuckle dancing on his lips. "I''m no captain. Just a guy who got everyone together. I''m from construction, learned to pilot in the army," he explained, his words punctuated by a cough, blood staining his clenched fist. "We don''t even have enough escape pods."

    "Escape pods?" echoed Isaac, his brow furrowing in concern.

    The makeshift captain''s next words sent a chill through them. "We''ve sustained too much damage. Engine''s got fifteen minutes, tops, before it blows," he disclosed, his gaze haunted.

    "Isaac, you handle this. I''ll inform Ed," Joeseph instructed, taking charge.

    The young captain pressed on, revealing the dire plight of the vessel''s occupants. "We''ve got sick and wounded, most from the hospital. They need urgent care," he implored.

    Isaac wrestled with the weight of the situation. How could they save them all? Who would they choose to save?

    But Bracken, ever resourceful, offered a glimmer of hope. "Do you have storage containers?" he interjected.

    The captain nodded hesitantly, puzzled by the inquiry.

    Bracken''s smile hinted at a plan. "Those containers have air pockets. Ten minutes, maybe less. Enough to transfer them to another vessel," he proposed.

    Joeseph chuckled at Bracken''s ingenuity. "You''re a clever one," he praised, relaying the plan to Ed and the captain.

    With a nod, the young captain activated the vessel''s systems, the hangar doors yawning open beneath them. "I''ll instruct everyone to load into the containers. But I doubt I''ll make it to¡ª" he began, his voice trailing off.

    "We''ll handle the clamps. Just focus on getting them in," Joeseph reassured him, his tone resolute.

    "Why?" the young captain inquired, puzzled.

    Joeseph''s reply was solemn. "It''s going to be a rough ride."

    The captain''s laughter echoed through the airwaves before the transmission ended. "Axel!" he commanded over the radio. "Join Henryk and the others. I''ll hold the line and keep them at bay until the evacuation''s complete!"

    With a snort, Axel ceased firing at the GrimGar, disappearing in a burst of blue flame. Now, Axel, Henryk, Isaac, and Bracken soared across the fiery wreckage of the vessel, the command post engulfed in a cataclysmic explosion.

    A profound sadness washed over them all. "He sacrificed himself for them," Axel remarked solemnly.

    Isaac rolled his eyes. "He had a duty... and he fulfilled it. Let''s focus on our mission and do the same."

    They proceeded in silence, descending beneath the vessel. Axel and Isaac led the way, finding rows of loaded cargo containers teeming with civilians. Axel took a deep breath. "Your turn, Sir Lancelot," Isaac quipped as Axel activated his mech''s rear camera and prepared to connect with the containers.

    The vessels bore simple stamped names, but Axel knew they held countless lives¡ªold, sick, and wounded. Their fate rested in his hands, and failure meant their demise.

    "Ready, Axel!" Henryk''s voice crackled over the comm as more GrimGar approached, this time a squadron of five, comprised of various-sized vessels.

    Henryk aimed his laser rifle, unleashing a barrage of shots that tore through the approaching vessels. "Never a dull moment," he quipped, impressed by the weapon''s power. But the strain was evident; the rifle overheated quickly, the barrel scorching to the touch.

    With a swift motion, Henryk drew his laser blade, slicing through the last vessel. As they veered away from the exploding wreckage, two GrimGar ships opened their hangar doors, unleashing a barrage of fire and explosions. Amidst the chaos, something emerged.

    A dark, bipedal figure emerged, wielding an assault rifle and a menacing machete, propelled by the same crude fuel as Henryk''s mech. The force of its strike threatened to throw him off balance, his senses reeling from the onslaught.

    "Henryk!" Isaac''s urgent cry pierced through the chaos as he and Bracken raced to his aid. The mysterious figure''s mech was a patchwork of junk, its spiky protrusions piercing Henryk''s vessel like deadly spears.

    Locked in a saber clash, Henryk delivered a powerful kick, sending the cockpit of the opposing mech flying open. Inside, a GrimGar¡ªa creature of legend¡ªstruggled with the controls, its snarls echoing through the cockpit.

    "They''ve created their own Warcaskets... they''re space-worthy," Henryk declared, shock evident in his voice. Without hesitation, he plunged his beam saber into the GrimGar''s cockpit, extinguishing its defiance.

    Stunned into silence, the others watched as Axel''s keen eye caught sight of debris from an unknown source amidst the GrimGar wreckage. Had there been a recent space battle near Oceana II?

    "Launch now, Axel!" Isaac''s urgent command snapped Axel back to reality. Maneuvering through the swirling debris, Axel''s mech touched down on a makeshift platform, propelling away from the vessel just as a rippling explosion consumed it.

    Bathed in the orange glow of destruction, Axel fought to outrun the looming fiery vessel hurtling toward the planet. "Get the hell out of there, Axel!" Isaac''s warning spurred him on as they raced to evade the impending disaster.

    With Isaac providing cover fire, Axel navigated through the chaos, narrowly avoiding the GrimGar''s relentless assault. As the fiery vessel descended, Axel''s heart raced with the realization that their survival depended on his skill and speed.

    Axel wiped the sweat from his brow, his heart pounding in his chest as he spotted a split-second opening. With a swift movement of his control stick, his mech and the containers surged forward, narrowly evading the fiery explosion that erupted behind them.

    "Holy shit!" Isaac''s voice crackled over the radio, his excitement palpable. "We pulled it off, pretty knight!" he exclaimed, his jubilation contrasting with Axel''s hollow, steadied breath.

    Rejoining Henryk and the others, they blasted off into the vast expanse of space, heading towards their flagship. But the relentless pursuit continued from behind.

    "They''re refusing to let up!" Joeseph shouted, frustration evident in his voice.

    Bracken''s gaze flicked to the side. "How long are they planning to keep at it?" he muttered.

    Henryk''s expression darkened as he gripped his weapons tightly, preparing for the impending confrontation.

    As fifteen GrimGar ships loomed closer, the Sons of Mars were suddenly greeted by unexpected support. A massive bullet struck the first ship, igniting a cacophony of explosions that echoed through the cosmos.

    The sound of heavy caliber weaponry reverberated as the newcomers made their presence known. Henryk''s radio crackled to life, and Piper''s voice cut through the chaos.

    "How you doing, music boy?" Her tone carried a hint of flirtation, but Henryk remained focused, swiftly patching her through to Joeseph.

    Piper couldn''t hide her mild disappointment at the brief exchange. She hadn''t spoken to Henryk in over a month, and this was all she got? With a huff of annoyance, she vowed to address it when they returned to the academy.

    Joeseph''s voice filled the air. "We''re grateful for the Mercurians'' aid," he declared.

    Piper shrugged nonchalantly. "It''s no big deal," she replied. "You''re people, and they''re people..." Her words trailed off as she detected multiple hostiles closing in on their position.

    ¡°You have multiple hostiles on your ass,¡± She announced.

    Joeseph''s audible groan reverberated through the chaos. "We know," he acknowledged, the weight of their predicament heavy on his shoulders.

    "But one last push," Piper declared, her voice cutting through the tension. "Then we''ll be free of this nightmare." With determination etched on her face, she readjusted the scope over her grey eye, the interface highlighting as she focused her breathing, surveying the battlefield.

    Henryk and the Sons of Mars, alongside their Mercurian and Plutonian allies, surged forward, joining the fray. The tank cannon mechs of House Mercury positioned themselves on the false landmass of debris, their thunderous cannons roaring a symphony that drowned out the GrimGar''s advance.

    Amidst the chaos, Henryk found himself locked in combat with two enemies. "I think I finally got the hang of it!" he shouted triumphantly, unleashing a barrage of gunfire that brought down one of his foes.

    But the second enemy danced around him, evading his attacks with skillful maneuvers. As two more enemies joined the fray, Henryk''s situation became dire.

    "Henryk!" Joeseph''s voice rang out, filled with urgency.

    "Is Axel clear?" Henryk shouted back, his focus divided as he fought off the relentless onslaught.

    "He''s fine and already made it to the Mercurians'' dock!" Joeseph''s reassurance spurred Henryk into action. With Isaac''s and Joeseph''s mechs swirling around him, they provided cover fire, their stub arms working in tandem to shield Henryk from the incoming onslaught.

    "Catch!" Isaac''s voice pierced through the chaos as he and Joeseph hurled their shields towards Henryk. With swift reflexes, Henryk caught both shields, maneuvering them into position just in time to deflect an incoming barrage of enemy fire.

    With shields in place, Henryk blasted off into space, pursued by two relentless enemies. They darted through the skies, streaks of starlight and orange bursts of energy colliding around them as the battle raged on.

    Isaac''s machine gun thundered in his hands as he unleashed a barrage of fire, the tremors coursing through his mech. "Come get some!" he shouted defiantly, his determination unwavering even as his gun stopped responding from the lack of ammo.

    Suddenly, a searing orange laser blast tore through his mech, severing his stub arm at the joint, as it was whirling a new magazine into his hands. The weightlessness of zero gravity carried the detached mag into Isaac''s outstretched freehand before slamming into his gun, jolting him with the impact. And fresh fire.

    With a defiant roar, Isaac surged through the battlefield, unleashing a torrent of death upon their enemies, his maneuvers as deadly as they were graceful, a testament to the Sons of Mars'' prowess in combat.

    The Mercurian allies, along with Ernest observing from the vessel''s cameras, bore witness to the Sons of Mars'' relentless defense. Faces transfixed, they watched in awe as the Sons of Mars fought with unwavering determination, refusing to yield even in the face of overwhelming odds.

    But shock rippled through the onlookers as a GrimGar Warcasket ambushed Isaac from behind, unleashing a barrage of fire at his vulnerable back. Despite the onslaught, Isaac''s backpack absorbed the brunt of the damage, and with a swift turn, he retaliated, unleashing a volley of bullets that obliterated the assailant.

    "Damn it," Isaac muttered, his mech''s emergency systems ablaze with warnings as chaos erupted around him.

    "Joeseph, I''m surrounded by fire and smoke!" he yelled, his voice drowned out by the roar of flames engulfing his surroundings. A burst pipe sent jets of fire cascading above him as he hastily donned his helmet, securing it into place.

    "I see you, Isaac!" Joeseph''s voice crackled over the comms, filled with urgency. "But... oh no."

    "Oh no?" Isaac echoed, incredulous. "Joe, that''s the last thing I need to hear right now!"

    Isaac fought to maintain control over his mech as flames licked at its exterior, small explosions rattling its frame.

    "Piper, we''ve got a problem," Joeseph relayed urgently. "Isaac needs to retreat!"

    "Don''t get that Mercurian girl¡ª" Isaac began, but Piper''s voice interrupted him, sharp with concern.

    "What''s going on?" she demanded. "Isaac, your mech is on fire... eject!"

    Taking a deep breath, Isaac steadied himself, his gaze sweeping over the chaos below. He spotted the transport vessels ahead and formulated a plan.

    "I remember this from the academy," he muttered to himself. "Just angle the cockpit and let gravity do the rest."

    But as he closed his eyes and activated the ejection mechanism, panic surged through him as it failed to respond.

    "It''s not working, Joeseph!" Isaac''s voice cracked with frustration. "It''s supposed to be automatic!"

    "Well, it most definitely isn''t working, and it''s sure as hell getting a whole lot hotter in here!" Isaac''s voice echoed with frantic desperation, drowning in the chaos of the battle.

    "He probably took damage to the head. It probably isn''t¡ª" Piper attempted to interject, but Isaac''s frantic shouts cut her off.

    "The whole damned thing is red!" Isaac''s voice cracked with panic. "I can''t die here... not because of some faulty eject!" His words dissolved into screams as electric volts crackled around him, his desperation palpable.

    Piper fixed her gaze on Isaac''s struggling mech, his limbs flailing amidst the chaos. Despite the GrimGar''s distraction, his predicament was dire. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation¡ªthe head, the critical point.

    "Isaac, you need to calm down," Piper''s voice cut through the cacophony. "We need a minute to try and refresh the¡ª"

    "Shut up, woman!" Isaac''s hysterical outburst interrupted her. "I don''t have a minute!"

    Rolling her eyes at his outburst, Piper attempted to reason with him. "Listen to me, and you won''t¡ª"

    But Isaac''s hysteria spiraled out of control. "I can''t die here, I can''t die here, I can''t die here..." His frantic mantra filled the air, drowning out Piper''s attempts to reason with him.

    Without hesitation, Piper pulled the trigger of her heavy-caliber sniper rifle. The bullet streaked across the battlefield, finding its mark on Isaac''s mech''s head, shattering it into a gruesome mess. Isaac''s mech spasmed in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief.

    "You shot me... you fucking who¡ª" His sentence was cut short as the escape pod initiated, hurtling the cockpit forward as the mech was engulfed in a fiery explosion. Isaac''s anguished scream reverberated over the radio, leaving Joeseph to sigh in resignation.

    "Sorry about that," he muttered.

    Piper couldn''t help but smirk and chuckle at the chaos she had just quelled.

    "How did you know that shooting the helmet was going to..." Joeseph began, but Piper''s smirk silenced him.

    "Who said I did?" she replied coolly, her smirk widening.

    Meanwhile, Henryk continued to battle the enemy mechs, his maneuvers a dance of destruction amidst the chaos. With a series of precise button presses, he unleashed the cannon, obliterating the GrimGar in a fiery explosion.

    "Like hell you don''t!" Henryk shouted defiantly, but his words were drowned out by the deafening roar of gunfire. With his shields raised, he charged forward, narrowly avoiding the enemy vessel''s grasp. As he blasted himself upward, he unleashed a torrent of machine gun fire at point-blank range, tearing through the vessel in a cataclysmic explosion.

    Henryk ascended, his senses on high alert, scanning for any lingering threats amidst the eerie calm that draped over the battlefield like a shroud. As he reunited with the Sons of Mars and the Mercurian Mechs, a heavy silence weighed upon them, pregnant with unspoken fears and apprehensions.

    But before they could vocalize their thoughts, a colossal presence emerged from the planet''s surface, casting a dark specter over the desolate landscape. Axel''s voice broke the silence, tainted with a grim foreboding, while even Piper, typically composed, found herself wide-eyed in astonishment at the sight unfolding before them.

    It was a behemoth of a ship, its massive silhouette eclipsing the horizon, a sinister amalgamation of industrial might and ancient debris. Despite its imposing presence, it made no move against them. Instead, it drifted past like a silent behemoth, leaving destruction and devastation in its wake¡ªa chilling testament to the annihilation of Oceana II and the invaders'' hasty retreat.

    "A new war," Henryk''s voice cut through the heavy air, his words laden with a solemn weight that echoed the sentiments of all who beheld the wreckage below. With a heavy heart, he watched as his mech was enveloped by the cerulean glow of what remained of Oceana II¡ªa poignant reminder of the sacrifices made and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

 Chapter 1 - Memories and Regrets of Oceana II - Start of Book 2: The Worms of Life

    <u>Piper</u>

    ¡°We are all gathered here today to both celebrate and mourn, to remember the Mercurien lives lost in the defense of Oceana II and the entire sector,¡± intoned the Headmaster, his voice echoing through the cavernous coliseum. The assembly was massive, a sea of faces under the cold gaze of towering mechs, both security and military, standing sentinel. The students, their ranks distinguishable only by the varying colors of their uniforms, filled the vast space.

    Piper stood among them, her casual attire and academy suit replaced by the stark, military-esque garb issued for such somber occasions. Her posture was rigid, hands clasped behind her back, the brim of her cap casting a shadow over her eyes as she focused on Marcus''s broad shoulders in front of her. She had hoped for a reprieve, but this somber assembly was far from a break.

    Margaret stood beside Marcus, her hand gently rubbing his arm in silent support. Piper noticed the slight tremors in his frame, a telltale sign of the grief coursing through him. In Marcus¡¯s hands was a large photograph of Lucas, one of the many who would be honored posthumously today, buried alongside dozens of others who had perished in the liberation of the Oceana systems. Once seen as mere plebs, they were now heroes in death. Piper couldn¡¯t help but wonder, where had everything gone wrong?

    As the Headmaster continued his eulogy, Piper''s fingers curled into a fist, her knuckles whitening. She could hear the murmurs from those around her, whispers of discontent that seeped into the solemnity of the moment.

    ¡°I get that they helped,¡± muttered a cadet behind her, the voice distinctly feminine. ¡°But this is supposed to be our day. Why does House Mars have to take center stage like this?¡±

    Henryk and the others stood awkwardly silent, the red splotches on their right sleeves stark against the somber fabric of their long suits. Caps pulled low, they felt the weight of the situation keenly, a palpable tension that pressed down on them.

    Kieren¡¯s eyes darted around the platform, his discomfort evident. ¡°This sucks,¡± he muttered to Joseph, his voice low and tense. ¡°Everyone¡¯s eyes are on us.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Joseph hissed back, their exchange cutting off abruptly as they noticed the Headmaster¡¯s gaze sweeping their way. They fell silent, their discomfort growing under the scrutiny of the assembled crowd.

    The cadets continued their hushed conversation. This time, it was a more masculine voice. "One of their Executors saved the planet years ago. I don¡¯t remember exactly, but House Mars earned the right to shine like this," he said, his tone tinged with reluctant admiration.

    "They are shamed," the girl curtly replied, her words slicing through the air.

    The boy chuckled softly. "Looks like the Headmaster doesn¡¯t see it that way. Seems like he remembers his debts," he stated with a knowing smirk.

    The girl¡¯s eyes flared, and though Piper couldn¡¯t see her face, she sensed the intensity. "That boy and the rest did their part in saving Oceana, but we¡ª"

    "Don¡¯t be an idiot, Clarissa," the boy interrupted, his breath rattling with barely contained frustration. "That damned druid, or mutant, or whatever. You saw what he did to them. Heck, it made me glad they were on our side."

    Piper turned around, her gaze piercing as daggers. The pair''s features twisted into instant anxiety under the weight of her green and grey eyes.

    "I think it would be for the best if you quiet down," Piper declared, her voice cold and commanding. She recognized the boy as the first one who had climbed into the tank cannon. The girl nearly yelped in shock, and the boy wore an awkward, silent smile.

    Piper turned back as the Headmaster¡¯s grey beard came into her vision. She glanced briefly and spotted Henryk, his gaze fixated ahead, looking awkward with his hastily assembled hair hidden under a cap. She refocused on the Headmaster, who was now smiling as he gripped the wooden podium. His words echoed from the microphone.

    "It was a tragedy that befell Oceana II," the Headmaster intoned. "And to know that two bodies of students were stationed there: House Mercury in its protection and salvaging of members, some even here today, and House Mars in its cleansing of GrimGar, a pesky race of aliens. However, reports state of their newfound technological prowess!"

    Logan''s eyes widened as his mind drifted back to that time in the forest. His blue eyes locked onto Ed¡¯s. Edward was staring at him, smiling.

    "I thought House Mars wasn¡¯t even allowed to go on missions anymore?" a girl whispered, pulling Logan back to the present.

    "Looks like they found a way around," someone muttered from the Neptunian ranks. "The Martians always find their ways."

    The room began to darken, an almost tangible gloom settling over the assembled cadets and faculty. The screen behind the Headmaster flickered to life, its cold light cutting through the dimness. Henryk nearly took a step forward, his breath catching as familiar footage rolled across the screen, still bearing the stark headlines of the news.

    "That''s us," Henryk''s voice rattled through the ranks of the Sons of Mars, barely above a whisper yet heavy with the weight of memory.

    The screen displayed their transport, wreathed in flames. The scene shifted to Henryk himself, diving into the fray, a symphony of TANK cannon blasts and laser fire raining death upon the foes of humanity. The audience watched, riveted, as the Headmaster''s words boomed over the spectacle, commanding attention.

    "Observe their spacefaring vessels... their Warcaskets!" he bellowed, as Henryk''s mech ignited its beam saber and tore through an enemy warcasket with brutal efficiency.

    The Headmaster''s hand thrust towards the contingent of House Mars. "They fought for the innocent and the weak that day!" His voice thundered, punctuated by a resounding slam of his hand on the podium. "We honor the dead of Mercury, but Mars shined that day... like before. Aspire to their example!"

    Among the ranks stood Jaicob, his blue Neptunian uniform a stark contrast to the House Venus students beside him. He nudged the person next to him, making a talking hand gesture that elicited stifled laughter from his companions.

    Henryk''s realization hit him with the force of a blow: the Martians were being honored, positioned on a pedestal of stone, while the Mercurians... The ancient rites dictated that House Mars would forever stand among the honored, their deeds immortalized in tradition. How deep did this cultural reverence run? Henryk wondered, his mind spinning.

    His thoughts flitted to Ed. It was Ed who had secured them new mechs and a substantial influx of funds, allowing them to repair their house and gain new amenities. Yet, Henryk was acutely aware of his alien status; he was not a Mercurian, not from the myriad worlds they hailed from. They saw him as one of their Executors, a guardian, and that belief forged an unbreakable bond.

    The Headmaster''s voice broke through his reverie, carrying a weight of weariness as his gaze swept across the assembly. Henryk knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that the Headmaster''s eyes were searching for Sirine, hidden among the crowd like the princess she was.

    "I am dying." The words echoed through the room, a proclamation that fell like a hammer. Silence followed, a stunned, reverent hush that stilled even the Sons of Mars and their mechs.

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    "I''ve lived such a long life," the Headmaster continued, his voice a weary rasp. "And I''ve seen so many young people die." He paused, drawing in a ragged breath. "You truly are the perfect heroes. Now, the inheritance of the academy is going to be up for question."

    There were murmurs of dissent rippling through the crowd as the Headmaster resumed speaking. "This world has its traditions... they may seem foreign to many here, but some of you understand." His gaze lingered on the students of Venus before drifting to the ranks of Mars. "There is a competition that will commence... a professor from my ranks will personally mentor a student among you. They will be trained, and on the day I die, those who endure will compete for her hand."

    The murmurs erupted into full-blown chatter, voices buzzing like a hive stirred to anger. Piper stared at her own ranks, her eyes drifting towards Zephyr. Did he know about this? Jace wore a satisfied smirk, his gaze shifting to Sirine before locking onto Henryk, who returned the look with a glare that could burn.

    The Headmaster pressed on. "They will fight in a battle royale, those who survive the challenges and tribulations of the years to come." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "You have two years."

    With that proclamation, he dismounted from the platform and walked away. The crowd and students erupted into a cacophony of uproar, the gravity of the announcement sending shockwaves through the assembly.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk and the others joined the flood of students pushing their way out, finally emerging into the early afternoon sun. The warm light greeted them, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere inside.

    "Do any of you guys have classes today?" Ed asked the group.

    "They were canceled for the funeral," Kieren was the first to answer.

    "That was a funeral?" Joseph replied mockingly. "Heck, I felt kind of bad for the Mercurians."

    "You pity them?" Arthur regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

    Joseph kept his gaze forward. "They had a bunch of their guys dead defending the Oceana Sector. Heck, it became something else... I know the Headmaster can be a bit eccentric, but it got a bit much in there."

    As they broke into the sunlight, groups of friends formed around them, chattering and dispersing. Henryk and the others surveyed the crowd, the size of it making Ed uneasy. "I don''t want to stick around too long," he said. "So, day off... what''s everyone planning on doing?"

    Henryk shrugged. "I was planning on going to the music building..."

    The world outside the auditorium seemed brighter, almost too bright, as if trying to erase the weight of the ceremony. The chatter of students, the rustling of leaves, and the distant hum of the city created a tapestry of sound that was a stark contrast to the silence and tension inside. Henryk felt a strange dissonance, a lingering echo of the Headmaster¡¯s words mingling with the mundane concerns of a free afternoon.

    Axel snorted. "Relax with that hick... we''ve got training," he stated.

    Ed sighed and raised his hand. "Henryk distinguished himself out there. Let him have the day with the others."

    Axel rolled his eyes, and Ed cocked his head toward the squares. "You''re in charge of them... the Knights will take the day."

    Kieren¡¯s eyes widened and then narrowed. "How the hell is that fair?" he demanded, pointing at Henryk. "I won that duel, and technically Henryk is both a subordinate and a squire, and he gets the day?"

    Ed shook his head. "We just got back from Oceana II. Everyone needs time to think."

    Ed turned to face the others, unknowingly missing Kieren¡¯s simmering rage. He directed his gaze to the Knights. "I''ve got a shift at the butcher''s," Arthur said.

    Ed cocked his head toward Henryk. "Hey, Henryk. If you want... the electrician messaged me and let me know that the house¡¯s Wi-Fi and electricity are running."

    Everyone was practically ready to cheer, except Arthur, who looked at them strangely. "Wi-Fi?" he asked.

    Isaac clapped him on the back. "Don¡¯t worry, big guy... we''ll get you caught up to speed."

    "What are you planning, Prez?" questioned Isaac.

    Ed chuckled. "I''m going to stop by our benefactor''s guild. The girl who works there knows Warcaskets, and I want to know the full capabilities of what these mechs are capable of."

    As everyone discussed how they were going to spend the day off, Kieren and the squires sulked angrily. Meanwhile, Henryk made his way opposite the group, wiping his eyes and feeling the fatigue rippling through him.

    "Maybe... I should sleep," he sighed to himself, his hand leveling on his features. Then, he was betrayed by images. Dead corpses, both human and GrimGar, and that GrimGar... the one laughing at him from atop the vessel and...

    The fury hit him like lightning! He remembered how his laser rifle felt after each thump of the trigger, the way his sword cleaved off a GrimGar¡¯s head. The sickening feeling of tearing through sinew, muscle, skin. Was this really what it meant to be a Knight of Mars? These spoils that Ed was promising him... would he even live long enough to enjoy them?

    The horrors of Oceana II flooded back in vivid detail, the stench of burning metal and flesh, the screams of the dying. It was all too real, too fresh. The celebration of their return felt hollow, a cruel juxtaposition to the nightmare still playing in his mind. The laughter of his comrades around him faded, replaced by the haunting echoes of battle. Henryk shuddered, his body a vessel of fatigue and rage, caught between the need for rest and the relentless onslaught of his memories.

    "Maybe I should sleep," he muttered again, but the images refused to fade, each one a stark reminder of the cost of being a Knight.

    Then, he felt someone tapping along his back. "Marcus," Henryk said, turning to face him.

    Marcus''s hands were free from his friend''s memorial photo. There was a melancholy in his movements, eyes blazing through thick black frames, fingers curled into tight fists. The cuffs of his jacket were rolled up, exposing tense forearms.

    "Hey, Henryk," Marcus tried to muster a smile, but it failed along the ridges of his features. "How are you doing... I heard you were on Oceana II as well."

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened as he was besieged by multiple images of the city of Oceana II¡ªfighting both on the ground and in space, chaos and fire intermingling with the screams of war.

    "Was that your first time in true combat?" Marcus asked. "I could swear you mentioned before that you were from the frontier."

    Henryk let out a rattling breath. "Fighting alongside Pluto... fighting alongside the Knights of Mars, Marcus, it was something I hadn¡¯t felt before," he paused, searching for the right words. "I don¡¯t know how to explain it..."

    Marcus raised his hand. "I was born on a Midworld, ever heard of Edeet III?" he questioned.

    Henryk shook his head in response.

    "We''re a small lot, but we¡¯ve got technology that puts us ahead of most midworlds. I was just going to some stupid high school a couple of years ago... now, I am piloting a sniper mech along the fringes of the galaxy."

    Marcus let that settle in. Henryk nodded along. "I was part of my school¡¯s baseball team," Henryk commented, his voice tinged with disbelief. "...and I sliced off a GrimGar¡¯s head," he added, bringing his hand to his throat and mimicking the gesture. "Marcus, I came here for a pilot certification... I have a degree in music, for Christ''s sake."

    Marcus''s eyes widened. "What do you mean by this, Henryk?"

    Henryk paused, a deep sensitivity appearing in his expression. His eyes narrowed as they glared at the asphalt. "I was really lucky to get this far... heck, if you and Lucas didn¡¯t..."

    He paused at the name, sadness settling upon him. Henryk felt a weight in his chest as his voice tapered off. "You guys evened out the playing field with me versus Piper. Sure, I didn¡¯t get into House Mercury... but Ed was able to use that to get me into his house. I am grateful to you, Lucas, Piper for forgiving me, Ed for taking his chance on me, Axel for training me, Isaac for..."

    "Whoa, Henryk," Marcus interjected, leveling himself. A cold sweat appeared along Henryk¡¯s brow. "What are you trying to say? You have nothing to be sorry for," Marcus sighed. "Me and Lucas didn¡¯t like how Zephyr was using you. But maybe, there was a better way."

    Henryk''s gaze softened as Marcus''s words settled over him. The heavy memories of Oceana II, the chaos and bloodshed, all swirled together in a confusing storm of guilt and gratitude. He felt the weight of survival, the strange twist of fate that had brought him here, mingling with the ghosts of those who hadn''t made it.

    ¡°Yeah, a better way,¡± Henryk muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ve got options¡­ sure, this path leads to riches, but I¡¯ve got my mom and sisters to worry about.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened at that. ¡°Henryk, are you thinking of¡­¡±

    Henryk cut him off with a different question. ¡°You mentioned earlier that you were fighting around Oceana II as well¡­ listen, I heard that something happened and you guys weren¡¯t coming to classes, and then the news came out that some people got captured¡­ and people put two and two together. What happened out there?¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened, and he glanced nervously around the bustling crowd.

    ¡°Listen,¡± Marcus stepped closer, lowering his voice. ¡°You Martians, you¡¯re an alright lot,¡± he regarded. ¡°You¡¯re rough, but I have you guys to thank for saving us out there.¡± Marcus smiled and patted Henryk on the shoulder.

    Henryk¡¯s eyes were wide with confusion. ¡°What do you mean, Marcus?¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed, a glint of something unspoken passing between them. ¡°Chin up, Henryk. I¡¯m just saying you guys are pretty tight¡­ I owe you and the others. You¡¯ve made friends in House Mercury.¡± He started to wade through the crowd, waving. ¡°You¡¯re a damn good pilot¡­ and you were the shining star of Oceana II.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes grew wide. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Marcus chuckled hard. ¡°You should check the news!¡± he shouted as he waved. ¡°Zephyr made a mistake in not taking you, Henryk Brown!¡±

    Henryk stood silent for a moment, absorbing Marcus¡¯s words. Then he chuckled, a mix of pride and disbelief bubbling up inside him.

 Chapter 2 - Homo-Magica the Next Stage of Human Evolution - Book 2

    <u>Logan</u>

    It was the day after the funeral. Logan sat in his dorm room, a wide, genuine smirk spreading across his face as he stared at his laptop. This time, his smile wasn''t one of trickery or mischief but of true happiness.

    ¡°You doing well, little brother?¡± The voice on the other end of the video call was warm and familiar.

    Logan snorted. ¡°You know it, Kaelin.¡±

    Kaelin reclined on the luxurious, leathery red sofa in their father''s study. Rows of books in all shapes and sizes filled the wall behind him, illuminated by the soft, white moonlight pouring in through a large circular window. Kaelin''s blond hair, far longer than Logan''s, cascaded past his shoulders. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on the aquamarine trident in his hands, his posture still reflecting the intensity of recent training.

    ¡°How is the House doing?¡± Kaelin asked, his voice casual but carrying a hint of genuine curiosity.

    Logan snorted again. ¡°Why do you care?¡± he retorted. ¡°This place can get so boring sometimes. I bet you were excited to leave.¡±

    Kaelin shrugged his shoulders. ¡°It only got really exciting when I knew Dad was going to take a more hands-on approach to start grooming me for kingly responsibilities. At that point, I was practically ready to finish my final year before it even started.¡±

    Logan sighed, a mixture of envy and resignation in his breath. ¡°I¡¯ve got a couple of years left before I''m done, but honestly, the Academy and The House are doing really well. Far better than before, in my opinion. We¡¯re stronger, Dad¡¯s been sending us stipends and more state-of-the-art gear than ever before. Heck, we haven¡¯t lost anyone in a long time.¡± Logan''s smile grew wider, the truth of his words filling him with a rare sense of peace.

    Kaelin nodded, his gaze shifting to the moonlight dancing on the trident, momentarily blinding him. ¡°Sometimes, you need death to make you remember what it means to be alive,¡± he mused. His eyes remained glued to the way the light played on the ancient weapon. ¡°I¡¯d do anything to get back into the thick of it, to give Aqua here a taste of combat, true combat...¡±

    Aqua, the family trident, had been handed down to the firstborn son since the days of Old Neptune. It was a symbol of their lineage and power. For a moment, Logan''s thoughts drifted to Henryk¡¯s own blade. He wondered if he could ever trade something so important, father or not. He pondered the weight of responsibility, the legacy carried in the steel of their family weapons. Could he ever part with such a vital piece of his heritage?

    Lost in his thoughts, Logan felt a pang of doubt. He couldn''t imagine letting go of something so significant. Would he ever be able to bear such a sacrifice? The question lingered, heavy and unresolved, as the moonlight continued to glisten on Aqua''s surface.

    Yet, Logan shook his head, trying to dispel thoughts of Henryk of Mars. Still, the betrayal ran thick, boiling his blood.

    ¡°How are you feeling about the Oceana system?¡± Logan asked, steering the conversation.

    Kaelin''s gaze snapped back to the camera, sarcasm dripping from his lips. ¡°That¡¯s what dear father wishes to discuss,¡± he stated. ¡°I was leaning towards forcefully drawing them into the Neptunian fold. Instead of just donating and giving them goods, we need to be careful. Giving these Midworlds too much autonomy often leads to them craving independence within a few years.¡±

    ¡°You''ve got a point,¡± Logan conceded.

    Kaelin shrugged, his expression smug. ¡°The Earthians with their fractured governments, the Mercurians with their fledgling Republic... Their weakness is apparent. It¡¯s our divine right to rule. Only the strength and purity of the House of the Fifth Reich can lead,¡± he declared, tightening his hand into a proud fist.

    Just then, their father entered the room¡ªa tall, but stout man with a small smirk, gelled black hair, and piercing blue eyes. ¡°I hope I¡¯m not hearing you spout the old history,¡± the King of Neptune said, his voice carrying a warning. He sighed as he approached the desk. ¡°Kaelin, if the wider populace hears you talking like that¡­¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d rally to my call,¡± Kaelin interjected, fervor in his voice. ¡°Many would return to the Old Way, especially after the expulsion of House Mars.¡±

    Their father, now seated at his desk, pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. ¡°You can¡¯t say things like that,¡± he admonished, but Kaelin merely smirked.

    ¡°Like what? The Eunuch Emperor and his dogs of Mars are gone,¡± Kaelin declared, lazily thumbing his chest. ¡°If I were in charge, I¡¯d push out all the mutants and undesirables. Revoke their visas and whatnot¡­¡±

    The King of Neptune, one of the most powerful men in the solar system, stared at his two sons. Despite his age and the greying of his once black hair, his name alone commanded both love and fear. To them, he was just Rylan.

    Rylan sighed deeply. ¡°Kaelin, the old way is called the old way for a reason. There may have been strength in it, but returning to it will only lead to disaster,¡± he said, wrapping his arms around himself. He nodded towards the screen. ¡°And Kaelin, don¡¯t influence your brother. He may be second in line, but he will wield significant political power when you take over. Likewise, he attends that school with all those mutants and half-breeds. We don¡¯t need Mercurians or Earthians hearing anything about the old way.¡±

    Kaelin shrugged. ¡°Logan can form his own opinions without me swaying him.¡±

    Logan nodded, a smile playing at his lips as he looked between his brother and father. ¡°I agree with Kaelin, though, Dad.¡±

    Rylan facepalmed, letting out a weary sigh. ¡°Kaelin, you¡¯re such a bad influence,¡± he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°When it¡¯s your turn to wield the throne, you¡¯ll see the weight of this responsibility. Great power is coupled with the need for strategic persuasion. Convincing people by appealing to their nobler traits will get you further than force ever will.¡±

    Kaelin fell silent, contemplating his father''s words, before speaking again. ¡°But Father, what about the Oceana system? All our donations and aid¡­¡±

    The king nodded thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯re right, Kaelin. We¡¯ve given them funds and offered security. And now, I hear the Headmaster at the Academy has extended an invitation to the Mercurians and even the Martians.¡± He ended the sentence with a dark laugh, his amusement bitter and cold.

    Rylan settled back into his chair, a calculating look in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re right, Kaelin. The time for gentle persuasion has passed. Now is the time to squeeze them.¡±

    ¡°Squeeze them?¡± Logan repeated, curiosity piqued.

    Kaelin chuckled, raising an eyebrow. ¡°So, we¡¯re going to go down there in full force? Declare war on the Oceana system?¡±

    Rylan waved his hand dismissively. ¡°You¡¯re too blunt, Kaelin. It¡¯s about strategy. Those things¡ªGrimGar¡ªthey destroyed a whole planet, decimated their city, forcing survivors into the cosmos.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Kaelin interjected, ¡°so what?¡±

    Rylan snickered, leaning forward. ¡°Some GrimGar have broken away, attacking neighboring planets within the sector. From Oceana Prime to Oceana Four, they¡¯re all feeling the brunt of these raids¡ªmurdering, enslaving¡­¡±

    Logan¡¯s eyes widened in realization. ¡°You¡¯re going to use this chaos as an excuse to intervene militarily.¡±

    Rylan chuckled, pointing at Logan. ¡°Your brother catches on quickly,¡± he said, satisfaction evident in his tone.

    ¡°He does,¡± commented Kaelin. ¡°He was always the smarter one, but at least I¡¯m far prettier.¡±

    Rylan sighed, shaking his head at his sons. ¡°Brothers... Listen, Logan, you¡¯re going to keep doing your thing at the Academy, but I¡¯ve heard that the Headmaster of that damned academy¡­ he¡¯s dying.¡±

    Logan nodded. ¡°We learned about it yesterday. He announced it, and now there¡¯s a race to marry his daughter or something?¡±

    Kaelin scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. ¡°I¡¯ve always known he was an eccentric prick,¡± he said, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°A bunch of Mercurians died, Oceana Two or Three is in flames, and millions have been sent to its sister worlds. And now is the time to reveal this?¡±

    Rylan sighed deeply. ¡°He¡¯s always been a joke¡ªa family of noble upstarts that only control the academy. They only gain prestige from the number of heroes that have graduated from their halls,¡± he scoffed. ¡°But Logan, because you¡¯re our ace... remember how I told you that you are going to wield great political power?¡±

    Logan nodded tentatively.

    Rylan continued, his tone serious. ¡°The Academy for years has followed strange traditions¡­ some that even contrast and interject with the Imperial Abhorrents,¡± he sighed again, clearly frustrated. ¡°One of these traditions is that there cannot be any female headmaster¡­¡±

    Kaelin smirked and then exploded into laughter. ¡°Of course there can''t,¡± he stated, his laughter echoing. ¡°We know how these dumb bitches operate.¡±

    Rylan was not amused, but Logan joined in the laughter. ¡°Well, big brother, I¡¯ve got a story for you,¡± Logan said, his eyes gleaming.

    Rylan raised his hand to quiet them, but he did it lazily enough for Kaelin to turn and smirk at his younger brother. Deep down, he was pleased that his sons were such good friends.

    ¡°What¡¯s up, little bro?¡± asked Kaelin.

    Logan snickered. ¡°I beat that bitch from House Mercury, their ace, the Red Rocket or something dumb along those lines, after one of their pricks attacked one of our girls.¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Kaelin smirked. ¡°You told her to get back into the kitchen like I told you to?¡±

    ¡°Hell yeah, I did,¡± Logan replied, grinning widely. Kaelin¡¯s smile matched his own, pride evident in his eyes.

    ¡°Now, that¡¯s my little bro,¡± he stated, pointing towards the camera.

    ¡°Okay, okay, okay,¡± Rylan spoke, trying to rein in the conversation. ¡°Back to the point. The professors at the academy¡ªnot all of them, but the ones with notoriety and combat experience¡ªare going to be looking for prospects. They¡¯ll most definitely reach out to the famous ace of Neptune, you.¡±

    Logan nodded, considering his father¡¯s words. ¡°Why would a professor want to sponsor me?¡± he questioned, raising his arms in a gesture of confusion. ¡°I can handle myself just fine or with one of our trainers.¡±

    Rylan sighed, his expression weary. ¡°I suppose, but it¡¯s just the way it¡¯s being handled. I know for sure that any professor who aids a student is going to gain more power from his position. Pick a good one, but if there¡¯s only one coming to you... take it.¡±

    His father¡¯s words were like steel, and Logan understood the gravity of the situation. ¡°Of course, Dad,¡± Logan said. ¡°I¡¯ll win this race and bring honor and glory.¡±

    Rylan nodded but paused for a moment. ¡°Logan, be careful.¡±

    ¡°Dad, I¡¯m always...¡± Logan began, but halted at the sight of his father¡¯s raised hand on the screen.

    Rylan continued, his tone somber. ¡°You are not going to be facing mere aliens not made in God¡¯s image, or robots, or even your own kin,¡± he sighed. ¡°We¡¯re talking about the next heir to not only the academy but someone who will wield substantial power within the Eunuch Emperor¡¯s domain. You¡¯ll be going against other champions, aces, warriors¡ªtrue warriors who have tasted blood, true blood.¡±

    Logan¡¯s eyes widened at that, his mind drawn to what he had witnessed during the headmaster¡¯s speech. Henryk, mutant, abomination¡ªbut Logan had seen great skill in him. He had not even told his father and brother how Henryk had saved his life. That silent shame he¡¯d forever carry.

    ¡°I will be, Father, I promise,¡± Logan said with conviction.

    ¡°Good, good,¡± Rylan repeated, then turned his gaze to Kaelin. ¡°In a couple of years, I¡¯m going to step down from my role as king. I want to take your mother to the countryside and live out the rest of our days in relative peace. So, I¡¯m going to send you to the Oceana Sector.¡±

    ¡°Father...,¡± Kaelin began, shock evident on his face, but a smile was also forming.

    Rylan continued, his voice steady. ¡°You are beloved by the people, and don¡¯t forget that one of those planets used to be controlled by us.¡± He raised his fingers and started to squeeze them into a fist. ¡°The Martians are gone, and the Eunuch Emperor is too preoccupied to do anything about this. We¡¯ve already paid off the guild to handle any unwanted House missions going there. Only independents or mercs will be a problem.¡±

    ¡°¡­and the proud people of Oceana,¡± Kaelin said, his voice steady yet questioning. ¡°I get what you mean, Father. But the idea that they¡¯re just going to give in or¡­¡±

    Rylan waved his hand dismissively. ¡°You¡¯re right; they won¡¯t just give in. But the militia they have, the number of people tired of the constant running, and the GrimGar breathing down their backs... Listen, Kaelin, you are a man of Neptune, of the royal family. You will be in charge of the fighting. Make it swift, and put an end to their leader.¡±

    ¡°They already have a leader,¡± Logan interjected.

    ¡°They''re calling her a princess of Mars,¡± Rylan revealed, watching his sons¡¯ eyes widen in shock.

    ¡°A princess?¡± Logan repeated, incredulous. ¡°I thought the whole royal family was dead?¡±

    Rylan chuckled darkly. ¡°I took my ARC core and dealt with that upstart king myself. However, I assume this girl has some royal blood lingering within her. An offshoot, perhaps. But if rumors can be believed, if she has enough¡­¡± His eyes moved to Kaelin. ¡°We may have just found your bride.¡±

    Kaelin¡¯s eyes widened, then a soft gleam spread over his face. ¡°As long as she¡¯s pretty, I don¡¯t mind,¡± he said with a smirk. ¡°But why marry?¡±

    ¡°Two reasons,¡± Rylan explained. ¡°The people of Oceana are proud and have always loved the Martians. The sector was home to some honorable orders. If we get a hand on her, reluctantly and furious, they will fall in line. Secondly, your son or daughter will have access to bear the ARC of both Mars and Neptune.¡±

    ¡°Father, but I thought you said that¡­¡± Logan began.

    ¡°I know what I said, Logan,¡± Rylan interrupted. ¡°But things can always be found and repaired.¡± Both sons¡¯ eyes went wide at that.

    Rylan sighed heavily. ¡°I¡¯ve given you boys a lot to think about, but I want to remind you that while you are hearing tales of honor, glory, and power, there is always death.¡± He paused as he rose from his seat. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the cruelty of this universe. My words alone have led to hundreds of thousands of deaths. I was there when the Eunuch Emperor himself set fires to the plains of Mars and condemned millions to nuclear atomization.¡±

    Logan and Kaelin were silent, absorbing the weight of their father¡¯s words. A small smile appeared on Rylan¡¯s aged face. ¡°It¡¯s a horrible thing for a father to bury his sons. Promise me, you two will not take any unnecessary risks,¡± he sighed, gazing between them. ¡°Fight for your ideals and your planet, not for greed, or pride, or honor.¡± He directed these words particularly at Kaelin, who shrugged, masking a smile, while Logan hid his own grin.

    His brother bore the trident Aqua, the ace before Logan came around. His brother would fight and kill these enemies and take this princess for himself.

    ¡°I promise,¡± Kaelin stated firmly.

    ¡°Me too,¡± Logan echoed.

    Rylan sighed once again, rubbing his temples. ¡°Sometimes, I wish you two had followed the paths of academics. But everyone loves a hero.¡±

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Ed was cracking funny faces to make Henryk laugh. Henryk chuckled quietly, trying to keep it discreet within the lecture hall. The room was vast, capable of seating fifty to one hundred students. The seats were connected to great circular desks that stretched row by row, the students of the academy scattered around them, clad in differing colors¡ªNeptunian blue, Mercurian orange, and more. Within these classes, there was a degree of peace. No fighting was allowed during lectures; Henryk had been told by Edward that there was great punishment if caught.

    Yet, people still messed around.

    Henryk bobbed his head, his fingers on his laptop as he listened to an unfinished song. One earpiece of his headset was loose, resting against his head, while the other was snug in his ear.

    The professor, Deeznea, commanded the room with her presence. Henryk¡¯s mom had told him it was rude to call professors by their first names, so he never bothered to learn them, only their titles. She also told him to pay attention during his classes; however, he already knew much of this subject.

    Deeznea was an older woman with peculiar purple hair, streaked naturally with grey¡ªa rarity far from humanity''s birthplace. Henryk and Ed shared a biology class together.

    ¡°Can anyone tell me the appropriate name for witches and wizards as they are commonly called within this universe?¡± Deeznea spoke, her arms wrapped around herself. She stood in front of a great white chalkboard, an anachronism in the deep future.

    Arms shot up.

    A girl clad in Mercurian orange spoke up, her voice dripping with smugness. ¡°Magicians!¡± she called out, her tone proud.

    Deeznea shook her head in response. ¡°No, they aren¡¯t,¡± she said, facepalming at the response. ¡°I¡¯ll give you all a hint: it isn¡¯t witches or wizards.¡± Laughter rippled through the hall.

    Another student, wearing the militaristic brown of Saturn, raised his hand. His orange eyes gleamed mischievously. ¡°Abhorrents,¡± he said, and a few more chuckles arose from the crowd.

    Ed sneered at the boy, already committing his face to memory. He glanced at Henryk, but Henryk¡¯s gaze was fixated on his laptop screen, his attention wholly consumed by his music. Ed could faintly hear the piano playing through Henryk¡¯s headphones, each beat resonating as Henryk¡¯s mouse hovered over the center of the screen. ¡°1, 2, 3,¡± Henryk muttered, following the rhythm.

    He was oblivious to the classroom around him.

    ¡°Wrong and racist,¡± Deeznea spoke firmly, turning away in exasperation. She returned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk, drawing with quick, fluid motions. Ed¡¯s eyes widened as she sketched a crude human figure.

    She then slammed the chalk down in the center and turned back to the class, her gaze sweeping over everyone, finally landing on one of the few Witches of Jupiter.

    ¡°Belleanne, would you like to educate your fellow peers?¡± Deeznea asked, her tone suggesting she already knew the answer.

    Belleanne¡¯s eyes widened as she snapped out of her stupor, red from lack of sleep. She slipped one hand from the sleeve of her robe. ¡°O-oh, I can¡¯t¡­ oaths and all that,¡± she stammered.

    ¡°Why am I not surprised,¡± Deeznea muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

    Her gaze drifted from Belleanne and landed on Henryk, who was still nodding his head to his music. Ed, seeing this, stomped on Henryk¡¯s foot.

    Henryk winced. ¡°Ah, what the hell, Ed,¡± he blurted out, yanking off his headphones, only to find himself under the intense stare of Professor Deeznea.

    ¡°Care to join us, Mr. Henryk?¡± she asked, her voice sharp.

    Henryk glanced around, feeling the eyes of the entire class on him. He cleared his throat, his mind racing to catch up with the lecture. ¡°Uh, yeah, sure,¡± he replied awkwardly.

    Deeznea sparked a smirk. ¡°Ah, Henryk, I read your file. You''re magically inclined, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Henryk looked around blankly, seeing everyone staring at him. He let out a small sigh. ¡°Yes, I am. I can utilize magic.¡±

    The young man from before rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and glaring at the blackboard. ¡°Abomination,¡± the son of Saturn muttered under his breath, his lips moving just enough for Ed to catch the word. Ed sneered, but Henryk remained indifferent.

    The professor whistled at that. ¡°I always find speaking to magically gifted individuals quite interesting. It''s pretty miraculous how most proper schools on Jupiter wouldn''t accept you. So, how do you learn your spells?¡±

    The whole class was now watching Henryk. Feeling the weight of their stares, he sighed again. ¡°I had tutors and teachers from all across the galaxy visit my colony.¡±

    ¡°Your colony was quite prominent?¡± the professor asked.

    Henryk shook his head. ¡°No, we¡¯re all descendants or former workers from a slave labor camp that was liberated about two decades ago.¡± He paused, hearing the silent murmurings. Even Ed¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°You never told me you were the son of a slave,¡± Ed began.

    Henryk''s curt look silenced him. ¡°I didn¡¯t need to,¡± he sneered. He paused, then continued. ¡°Traders and travelers would come and go, and my momma would tell them about my abilities. We¡¯re persecuted throughout the galaxy, but learning a few spells has gotten me out of more situations than I can count.¡±

    The professor nodded thoughtfully. ¡°That is most definitely true, Henry Brown,¡± she paused. ¡°¡­but just magic? What about the physical characteristics that set you apart from the previous generation?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Are you talking about how some people believe we¡¯ve got an extra bone?¡±

    Laughter echoed through the room as the professor shook her head. ¡°Of course not, that¡¯s false. But I am talking about how attuned you are to the universe around you.¡± Henryk raised an eyebrow, and she continued, seeing his confusion. ¡°A higher reaction time, greater strength, greater vitality¡ªyes, those are true. The witches of Jupiter would like to believe that only women can harness magic.¡± She paused and glanced at Belleanne, who sat lazily, looking as though she''d heard all this before. ¡°¡­The witches of Jupiter use eugenics to keep magical lines pure. We know the history¡ªthe witch burnings of Neptune, the lynches on Jupiter, and other atrocities that have followed the birth of those who can open their third eye. However, there is a sensitivity toward them, a connection they make to the Earth¡­no, the universe as a whole.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and understanding as he absorbed the professor''s words. The classroom buzzed with a newfound respect and interest, and for a moment, the invisible lines dividing them seemed to blur.

    Henryk paused, eyes wide, unsure where this conversation was headed. Sure, he was a wizard, but what she was talking about seemed beyond his understanding. He utilized spells and magic¡ªthat was what a wizard did. He knew he was stronger than others and a good pilot, but to connect with the world around him? What did that even mean?

    ¡°Sensitive to the world around you,¡± Ed mumbled into his ear. ¡°Sounds like she¡¯s calling you autistic.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Henryk snapped, but Ed chuckled softly.

    The professor continued. ¡°Many scientists in my social circle and other circles believe that ''Homo-Magica'' are not mutants. Their ability to connect, to heal, to utilize the elements and psychic powers might represent the next stage of evolution. We live in a universe with knights, soldiers, and you students will fill many of those eager ranks. Now, I ask, those bearing magical gifts, is that all they can be¡ªtools of war?¡±

    She posed the question directly to Henryk.

    He sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he reslung the headset over his head. ¡°You tell me, teach,¡± he replied. ¡°A weapon is a weapon, and magic is mine. Homo-Magica, wizard, or witch¡ªit¡¯s all the same.¡±

    Deeznea¡¯s eyes bore into him, but her expression softened. ¡°Perhaps, Henryk. But consider this: tools of war are often forged in fire, yet they can also be used to build and heal. It¡¯s all in how you wield your power.¡±

    The room fell silent as the weight of her words settled over the students. Henryk¡¯s mind raced, grappling with the implications. He had always seen his magic as a means of survival, a weapon to protect himself and those he cared about. But what if there was more to it? What if his abilities could be used for something greater than just fighting?

    The professor returned to her lecture, but Henryk¡¯s thoughts remained distant, lost in the possibilities she had opened before him.

 Chapter 3 - Heirs to The Stars I - Book 2

    Chapter 3 - Heirs to The Stars

    <hr>

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper rested her chin on her fist, her eyes drifting between Margaret and Marcus as they sat in silence within the cozy booth of the restaurant. It was a quaint, yet inviting place¡ªPizza, Italian cuisine, and red cushions that offered a surprising level of comfort. It could have been the perfect spot for a date.

    The sign outside read "Bianica¡¯s."

    Margaret''s smile was frozen, a stiff expression she''d worn since Marcus returned. Marcus, on the other hand, appeared lost in a deep melancholy, his gaze fixed on the menu in front of him. Margaret''s voice cut through the quiet, its pitch higher, louder, and oddly more cheerful than usual.

    "They have so many options here," she said, her head resting on Marcus''s shoulder.

    Marcus didn¡¯t respond. His eyes, half-open and half-closed, managed only a small nod in acknowledgment.

    Piper took a sip of her water; she had already ordered her meal.

    ¡°They¡¯ve got pizzas, pastas, chicken parm,¡± Margaret continued, her voice taking on a melodic hum as her brown eyes sparkled at Marcus. ¡°What do you want? I¡¯m paying, so it¡¯s my treat.¡±

    Marcus sighed heavily, setting the menu down with a resigned air. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not really up for it.¡±

    ¡°For food?¡± Margaret asked, a forced chuckle escaping her lips. ¡°Silly, you¡¯ve got to eat. The last time you ate was breakfast... yesterday.¡±

    Marcus shrugged. ¡°I guess... I just haven¡¯t been hungry lately.¡±

    Piper''s eyes widened as she placed her cup back on the table. Marcus hadn¡¯t glanced at her or Margaret once. The last time she¡¯d heard him speak was when he talked to Henryk.

    A woman approached the table¡ªa petite figure, likely the owner or waitress of the small establishment. Her jet-black hair was cut short, brushing just past her neck, and her bright blue eyes contrasted sharply against her porcelain-pale skin, which bore the distinctive features of East Asian heritage.

    ¡°Sorry for the long wait,¡± Margaret apologized quickly. ¡°We¡¯re still deciding; someone¡¯s been a bit picky lately.¡±

    Bianica smiled, dismissing Margaret''s concern with a wave of her hand. ¡°It¡¯s fine, take your time. However, just so you know, the pizza order might take a bit longer.¡±

    Bianica''s strained smile made Piper inwardly wince, realizing just how long they''d be waiting for their food.

    Unlike Marcus, the last thing Piper had eaten was dinner yesterday afternoon. After the ceremony, she could hardly stomach anything, but now, she felt a tad bit better.

    The faces of the dead haunted Piper''s mind, filling the ranks of Mercury. She had known since her first year that people died on these missions, but Lucas¡ªhis face shone brighter than the rest.

    ¡°Our new cook has been struggling with the dough process,¡± Biancia admitted. ¡°He¡¯s young and eager to learn, but new things take time, you know.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Margaret answered, while Piper¡¯s lips parted. ¡°Thank you for letting us take our time.¡±

    Biancia nodded just as Marcus suddenly stood up.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to use the bathroom,¡± Marcus announced.

    ¡°Oh, would you like some¡ª¡± Margaret began.

    Marcus sneered. ¡°I don¡¯t need your help to find the bathroom. I¡¯m not a child.¡± He walked away, his glasses darting in different directions as he searched the room.

    After he was gone, Margaret¡¯s hands fell to her face, her back hunched as Piper stared at her.

    ¡°Wanna talk about it?¡± Piper asked.

    Margaret shrugged and shook her head, but she still spoke. ¡°I think he¡¯s traumatized.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we all,¡± Piper snickered, taking another sip of her drink.

    Margaret shot her a look. ¡°Pipes, I¡¯m not joking around right now. There¡¯s something seriously wrong with Marcus.¡±

    ¡°Margaret, he was just rescued from God knows where, and he found out that his best friend in the whole world¡ªthe whole universe¡ªwas brutally captured, tortured, and murdered,¡± Piper exclaimed, her own head reeling from the weight of her words.

    Margaret stared at her, wide-eyed, as tears began to well up. ¡°I-I¡­ When he went on that mission, Zephyr assured me, Pipes. He assured me that Marcus was going to be okay.¡±

    "Now, that¡¯s your issue¡ªyou listen to Zephyr," Piper said, raising her cup and taking a sip from her straw, speaking from the corner of her mouth. "I stopped listening to him and his promises a very, very long time ago." Piper paused, realizing she might have gone too far. "D-did he tell you...?"

    "No, not a single word," Margaret replied. "Heck, Zephyr has been demanding a briefing, but even in private, he isn¡¯t saying a thing."

    "What about Eric and Jeremiah?" Piper asked. They had returned with Marcus, battered and injured, but still both good pilots, with Eric being an excellent spotter.

    Margaret shrugged. "I don¡¯t know much about Jeremiah, but I know Zephyr signed vacation papers for Eric."

    Piper¡¯s eyes widened. "Huh, really?" she questioned. "Is Zephyr growing a golden heart?"

    Margaret snickered. "Either he¡¯s giving him a break after that shit show, or he¡¯s leaving¡­ for good," Margaret said, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning back in her seat. "Zephyr¡¯s words, not mine."

    A tense, curt silence settled between them. Piper and Margaret had been friends for years¡ªtalked about boys, hung out¡ªa special friendship. But now... after everything...

    "I-I just don¡¯t understand what happened. Lucas, he was trained at a MilSchool before he came here. A good one at that. Usually, they live to see graduation," Margaret¡¯s voice trembled.

    Piper was about to speak, but her lips went dry. What was she meant to say? To tell them how Lucas had held back while she charged in, glory-hungry and desperate for the kill? She may have taken down their ship, but Lucas was captured and killed. She had left him behind... left her friend behind...

    Now Lucas was dead, and she had picked up the slack. Her rank was definitely boosted... and that¡¯s how she got her job. One of the greatest mistakes of her life, and a promotion?

    The thought alone made her want to hurl and punch something...

    "God fucking damn it!" someone screamed, followed by the clatter of pans. "This is impossible, impossible!"

    Then a softer, more childish voice called out from the kitchen. ¡°MOM¡­ Henryk messed up again.¡± The voice was flat, almost monotone.

    ¡°Henryk?¡± Piper whispered.

    Henryk was wearing a cooking apron. ¡°Man, fuck this,¡± he bellowed, grabbing the chef''s hat off his head and slamming it to the ground. There was so much flour on him that when the hat hit the floor, a puff of white powder rose into the air. He tried to wipe his eyes, only to make them sting. ¡°Damn it, I can¡¯t do anything right!¡± he shouted as he stormed out the door.

    Piper started to rise from her chair, but Margaret gripped her hand firmly. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Checking to make sure he¡¯s all right,¡± Piper stated.

    Margaret tightened her hold. ¡°Pipes, come on, him.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Piper snapped, pulling her arm free from Margaret¡¯s grasp. ¡°He¡¯s a friend.¡±

    ¡°He maimed you,¡± Margaret said.

    ¡°It was an accident,¡± Piper replied, her tone edged with fury. ¡°Everyone needs to stop telling me and getting involved in what happened between Henryk and me. It was an accident, and I should¡¯ve worn a helmet.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I am sick of hearing this. It wasn¡¯t enough that Simon found him and wrongfully attacked him on my behalf.¡±

    Margaret¡¯s hand moved to her shoulder, rubbing it tentatively and awkwardly. ¡°I-it¡¯s just, Pipes, out of everyone... him? He¡¯s a member of House Mars, their rumored Executor, for Christ''s sake.¡±

    ¡°I fought by his side,¡± Piper retorted quickly. ¡°Henryk is different¡­ he¡¯s kind, plays his instruments well, he¡¯s creative, he¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°So tall,¡± Margaret mocked in Piper¡¯s tone. ¡°That¡¯s what you kept saying all last night. Piper, out of everyone at the academy¡ªhim? HIM?¡±

    Bianca glanced around before retreating into the kitchen, the pair of girls oblivious to the conversation unfolding between mother and son. Bianca then opened the door to the back and made her way down the narrow steps of the alleyway, which was squeezed between the looming apartment buildings that sandwiched the restaurant.

    Henryk continued walking, and she was about to call out to him, but he planted himself on the steps at the back of one of the apartment complexes. He was crying¡ªor rather, he had forced himself to cry, using the tears to flush the flour from his eyes. Yet, as he wiped his eyes, he heard footsteps approaching... then, nothing.

    Henryk raised his gaze, looking around the alleyway. His eyes traced the ends of the narrow passage, and he realized he was alone. He felt alone. There was no sound of the busy traffic, no flapping of pigeons¡¯ wings¡ªjust silence, for the first time in a city occupied by millions.

    He glanced downward, his eyes widening at the sight. He wiped them again, finding his footing on the stairs. As eager tears cleared away the flour, he began to see stars.

    A rich cosmos unfurled beneath his feet. Whirling stars, dying in fire and being reborn in light, streaks of green and blue from shooting asteroids and comets, the rings of distant worlds, all bespeckled with random flashes of vivid, beautiful hues.

    "I-I must be seeing things," Henryk mumbled to himself. "I have to be."

    As he felt a pressure on his shoulder, the dream¡ªor vision, or apparition¡ªbegan to recede. Slowly, calmly, and reassuringly, the ground beneath him reappeared, along with the sounds of the city. Sirens, the hum of cars, and even the distant echo of a train emerging from its tunnel returned.

    Bianca¡¯s warm but confused gaze met his. Her hand rested on his shoulder. "You alright, Henryk?" she asked.

    Henryk took a deep breath, gazing back into her warm brown eyes before shaking his head and averting his gaze. He couldn¡¯t tell her what he had seen¡ªshe¡¯d think he was going crazy. Heck, with the way he already acted in front of his employer...

    "I¡¯m alright, Bianca," Henryk responded, his hand going to his face as his breath came out ragged, but steadier with each passing second. "I just..." He paused, a chuckle escaping his lips despite everything. "I really just can¡¯t hack this pizza-making thing."

    Bianca sighed deeply. "Yeah, but it¡¯s only your second or third day trying and¡ª"

    "I keep messing up," Henryk interrupted. "It¡¯s so unbelievably difficult. I look up videos on how to do it, I take notes, I pay attention to what you and your son tell me, and I still can¡¯t hack it. There¡¯s something wrong with me."

    Bianca chuckled at that. ¡°Henryk, this is your first time working in a kitchen. You can¡¯t be so hard on yourself. I already knew what I was getting into when I hired a student with the resume you had.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened, sorrow etching across his features. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Bianca sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around herself. ¡°Stop apologizing,¡± she lectured. ¡°Like I said before, you¡¯re just a student, a kid. You¡¯ve got your studies and everything else going on. Running into this issue isn¡¯t going to make me fire you. I see all the hard work you¡¯re putting in and¡­¡±

    She paused, but Henryk could feel the weight of her unspoken words. He¡¯d been feeling a lot of things lately, ever since he went into space¡ªnot just after Oceana II, but before that as well.

    Bianca sighed again. ¡°You¡¯re a talented young man, Henryk, with a good head on your shoulders, especially after what happened when you were under my watch. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t your fault,¡± Henryk interrupted curtly. ¡°They¡­¡±

    ¡°Henryk, I appreciate that, but I¡¯m a mother, and you were in my care when I gave you that job.¡± She placed a hand on her forehead, the memory clearly weighing on her. ¡°When that boy came holding you¡­¡±

    ¡°Ty,¡± Henryk said softly.

    Bianca nodded. ¡°When Ty came holding you in his arms, and you had that bad head wound, I thought you¡¯d nearly died. The Academy is very prestigious, but there are a lot of open secrets that bleed through its halls and work their way into the world.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s fist tightened.

    Bianca sighed again. ¡°I¡¯m willing to work with you and give you all the time you need to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I hate being a burden on others,¡± Henryk said, averting his gaze.

    ¡°You are no burden, just someone who needs to learn¡­ I won¡¯t judge you because you struggle with learning.¡± She paused and took a knee so they¡¯d be on the same level, though Henryk, even sitting, was still a bit taller. ¡°Whether it takes days, weeks, or months, as long as you keep working hard and I see that, I know you¡¯re going to do great things. You are not a burden, Henryk Brown.¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Henryk paused at that, sighing. ¡°I¡¯m my father¡¯s son. Everyone knows who he is on my colony. My stepfather passed away a long while ago, and for my sisters and my mom, I¡¯ve always¡­ I¡¯ve always¡­¡±

    Bianca¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That sounds like a lot of pressure.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± Henryk stated with a forced chuckle.

    Bianca sighed at that. ¡°You miss them?¡±

    ¡°Every day,¡± Henryk said. ¡°The Sons of Mars are all right, but it¡¯s like... the mission we did... I know I saved people, but I could¡¯ve died. I would¡¯ve died not knowing my full potential or seeing my family again. Can I really do that? Do this?¡±

    Bianca knew what Henryk was referring to in that last sentence, but she also knew it wasn¡¯t her place to speak on it. She understood that attending the academy was a high honor, even with its dangers. For a family like Henryk¡¯s, who would never have experienced the luxuries of the Core Worlds, the academy represented a chance¡ªa hypothetical rise from rags to riches if he were taken by Neptune.

    The young and foolish, the eager and brave, willing to risk life and limb to handle the universe''s problems and the war of the old and bitter, all for the sake of a better life for themselves or those they loved.

    Yet, Bianca knew that Henryk was dealing with his own turmoil. She figured he wasn¡¯t the type of young man to openly declare his feelings, and even then, that bridge into his personal life was all he was willing to give her at the moment. So, Bianca sighed. ¡°I say we continue with work. You need to give yourself some praise¡­¡±

    ¡°Praise?¡± Henryk repeated questioningly.

    Bianca smiled, raising a finger to the sky. ¡°Yeah, some praise. Like, yeah, you can¡¯t make proper pizza dough to save your life. But your pasta is really good, and that chicken parm...¡± She paused and kissed her fingertips. ¡°Chef¡¯s kiss, Henryk, chef¡¯s kiss.¡±

    Henryk felt his face flush at that.

    Bianca continued, ¡°Everyone has their differences, their uniqueness, and their skills. Everyone has a part to play, and like a pizza, something to bring to the pie. Our differences make us unique.¡±

    ¡°Our differences make us unique,¡± Henryk muttered to himself, his thoughts drifting to all the houses within the Solar System.

    The knightly Mars, the democratic republic of Mercury, the Witches of Jupiter, the opulence of Venus, the proud people of Neptune, the united Saturn, the struggling but strong Pluto.

    And Earth... while they were different, separated from that big blue ball, that was where they all came from.

    ¡°However, there is a sensitivity toward them, a connection they make to the Earth¡­ no, the universe as a whole.¡± Professor Deeznea¡¯s words echoed in his mind as he and Bianca began to walk once again.

    <u>Edward</u>

    They were at the old airfield of House Mars, on the outskirts, peering through binoculars at the two bipedal mechs. The cold had a reassuring chill, and the leaves of the trees were falling in orange hues around them.

    ¡°Bring that ass over here!¡± shouted Isaac as his beam blade clashed with Joseph¡¯s. Their mechs were far apart as Joseph utilized his thrusters to create space.

    Edward, Bea, and Adaline were some distance away. Adaline¡¯s red-tinted skin glistened under the harsh volley of light coming toward them. Bea and Ed each held binoculars, their eyes filled with calculated focus.

    ¡°Damn, these mechs, for a mass-produced line, are¡­¡± Bea¡¯s voice trailed off.

    Adaline, wearing sunglasses, stared ahead, her scarf fluttering in the wind. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen them in actual combat. Heck, it was easy to learn from the manual Joseph, Axel, and Henryk provided.¡±

    ¡°Henryk?¡± Bea questioned, snorting as she turned her gaze back to the mech battle. ¡°Now, that¡¯s a real Martian name,¡± she commented sarcastically.

    ¡°He¡¯s one of the Executor Candidates,¡± Ed stated.

    Bea rolled her eyes. ¡°Is that supposed to impress me?¡± she said.

    Ed looked awkward for a moment, then turned his attention back to the robot fight between Joseph and Isaac. They watched as Isaac dipped his mech into a crouch, then slammed his clenched elbow into the chest of the other mech. Joseph¡¯s beam saber immediately slipped from his hands as his mech crashed to the ground.

    ¡°S-see that?¡± Isaac said, throwing a glance toward the crowd behind him, utilizing his camera modification to zoom in on them. ¡°I¡¯m far better fighting on land than in space.¡±

    Joseph tried to rise, but Isaac¡¯s beam blade was held beneath his chin.

    ¡°They¡¯re flexible too¡­¡± Adaline commented.

    ¡°Where did you get these things again?¡± Bea asked, lowering the binoculars to rest her hand on her hip.

    Ed sighed. ¡°We made contact with another Martian loyalist,¡± he said, pausing as both Bea and Adaline¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°He¡¯s been secretly loyal to the throne, but we lost him on Oceana II. Right before that, though, he armed us with mechs, supplies, and equipment.¡±

    ¡°Governor Mathias?¡± Bea asked, her voice sharp with curiosity.

    Ed¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°It wasn¡¯t exactly a secret that he was loyal¡­ but it¡¯s a good thing you¡¯ve got your mechs.¡±

    His sigh was long and heavy. ¡°We barely have enough pilots to make it work, but we¡¯ve got a decent chunk of people. Arthur was trained as a knight by his father. Isaac¡¯s got real military experience¡ªgrew up on a MilWorld. Joseph¡¯s tribe had Martians training him as a knight. Shockingly, August¡¯s from a MidWorld, and he¡¯s turned out pretty solid. But Henryk? He¡¯s the weakest link, even with his spikes.¡±

    Adaline¡¯s face twisted in confusion. ¡°What are the spikes?¡±

    Ed blinked at her. ¡°Adaline, you know what the spikes are. Dad had them on his back.¡±

    Adaline¡¯s expression softened into sadness. ¡°Y-yeah, I remember... but you know how Dad was. He never showed his scars.¡±

    Bea snorted. ¡°That was after the fall of Mars, when he lost his pride. Before that, he loved showing off how tough he was, like a big, strong warrior.¡±

    Ed¡¯s gaze hardened for a moment. He didn¡¯t know much about Bea¡¯s relationship with her father, but he¡¯d heard of Sir William. The man had been important¡ªcrucial, even, to their cause. Thanks to him, they were able to arm themselves, at least a little.

    But Ed sighed, knowing it wasn¡¯t his place to comment. He shifted the conversation. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering¡ªwhat¡¯s the situation on Oceana really like?¡±

    Bea and Adaline exchanged a glance. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Adaline asked. ¡°Haven¡¯t you seen the news?¡±

    Ed nodded. ¡°Of course I¡¯ve seen it, but you two have ties to smugglers. I know the Eunuch Emperor has his spies out there, hiding the truth.¡±

    Bea and Adaline shared another look, before sighing in unison. ¡°That¡¯s going to cost you,¡± Bea said with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine by me,¡± Ed said. ¡°That sector used to be loyal to House Mars. I¡¯ve even heard rumors that many still fly the flags.¡±

    ¡°Well, they¡¯ve been fighting Neptune and GrimGar under those flags again¡­¡± Adaline added.

    ¡°Adaline!¡± Bea snapped.

    ¡°What? He said he¡¯d pay,¡± Adaline shrugged.

    Ed rubbed his chin. ¡°N-Neptune? House Neptune?¡± he asked. ¡°What do they want with Oceana II?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not just Oceana. It¡¯s the whole sector,¡± Adaline explained, wrapping her arms around herself. ¡°Listen, I saw what you guys did for those innocent people who needed rescuing.¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened, and he scratched his arm nervously. ¡°W-We just did what we had to.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do anything,¡± Bea said. ¡°It took guts, and I heard you saved quite a few lives that day.¡±

    Ed nodded, but there was no pride in his expression. ¡°It really was something. The whole city¡ªno, the whole planet¡ªwas destroyed by those things. It was surreal, freaky. The last time I saw anything like that was when Mars burned from space.¡±

    Bea and Adaline exchanged a glance, sensing the weight of his words.

    ¡°I need to keep everyone busy,¡± Ed continued, his voice steadying. ¡°Get more people into the flow of things. Do you have any jobs or info? You know I¡¯ll pay.¡±

    Bea sighed. ¡°There aren¡¯t any big jobs coming in from the mainstream guild. Just small stuff. Out in the Earth Sphere, Jacen¡¯s pirates have been hitting factories lately. Some of the bigger names are trying to get¡­¡±

    Ed shook his head. ¡°Nah, no human missions for a while. My team can¡¯t handle taking lives right now. Some might be able to, but for others... it would break them.¡±

    Bea¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got people who are real sick from what they saw out there. They¡¯re skilled, talented, but I can¡¯t afford to lose them. Not after what happened on Oceana II. That kind of shit¡­ it leaves a mark.¡±

    Bea and Adaline both grew quiet.

    ¡°Then you won¡¯t like the other missions,¡± Bea said after a moment. ¡°Oceana II¡¯s become a battleground. A free-for-all.¡±

    ¡°W-what?¡± Ed stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°The corporations and Houses are making their move, trying to seize control of the sector. It looked like House Mercury was going to get it, but¡­¡± Bea trailed off.

    ¡°House Neptune showed up and started attacking them,¡± Adaline added. ¡°People on the news are buzzing that it¡¯s GrimGar still on the planet, killing them, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Bea interrupted. ¡°There are a lot of GrimGar on that world too. A group of Martian loyalists have been fighting in the mountains across certain worlds in the sector. Between them, the GrimGar, and the corporations... it¡¯s turned into a full-scale armed conflict.¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened at the revelation, and Mathias¡¯s final plea echoed in his mind.

    ¡°Who¡¯s leading the Martian loyalists?¡± he asked, his voice tight.

    Adaline looked down at her feet. ¡°They call her a princess of Mars.¡±

    Ed felt his breath catch. ¡°I thought all traces of the royal family were gone.¡±

    ¡°She must have survived somehow,¡± Adaline replied. ¡°I¡¯ve heard she¡¯s a warrior, another mutant like myself. Even though she¡¯s a woman, she¡¯s leading hundreds of thousands of guerrillas, trying to take back Oceana. They say by blood, she should be the one holding the three... no, the four Houses.¡±

    ¡°Missions from them are the only ones you¡¯ll find for a while. The other GrimGar not in the sector have fled deep into the outer frontiers,¡± Bea said.

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened further. ¡°People don¡¯t know where they went?¡±

    Bea nodded slowly. ¡°As my sister said, there aren¡¯t many jobs around. This conflict has the Emperor involved, so the other Houses can¡¯t interfere. The guild is holding back jobs connected to it.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re not like a regular guild,¡± Ed commented, a note of hope in his voice.

    Bea and Adaline exchanged a glance before Bea sighed. ¡°You said you¡¯re not even looking for those types of jobs anyway.¡±

    Ed sighed, knowing she was right. ¡°We just need something big to work with. It doesn¡¯t have to be money or anything like that.¡±

    The sisters shared another look. Finally, Bea spoke. ¡°Okay, that works. There are rumors in the next sector over from Oceana¡ªabout a ship bearing Martian colors. There might be a supply cache there.¡±

    Ed smirked and nodded. ¡°That sounds perfect. We could really use a win. I¡¯ll send a few of my guys in the transport¡ªit should be an easy find.¡±

    ¡°Be careful with that, Edward,¡± Bea warned. ¡°Some of these illicit guild jobs can get dangerous fast. That piece of intel hasn¡¯t even reached the Houses yet, and remember, the last mission we got you led you straight into another House¡¯s territory.¡±

    Ed winced at the reminder. Bea wasn¡¯t done. ¡°And those ships are often crawling with insect infestations.¡±

    Ed nodded, the danger becoming more apparent. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll transfer the money for the job and info. But also¡­¡± He paused, digging into his pocket and pulling out a wad of rolled-up paper.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Adaline asked, her tone cautious.

    Ed nodded toward Bea. ¡°Well, part of the deal with your sister involved repairs and mechanics. We were fighting in a whole new breed of machine, and no one really understood what they had. I had the guys jot down their requests for their personal mechs. You do colors too, right?¡±

    Bea took the paper with both hands, nodding. ¡°We¡¯re going to be so rich,¡± Adaline said with a smile.

    As Bea skimmed the words and diagrams, Ed¡¯s voice carried on. ¡°Henryk says he likes the weight of the design, but he thinks it could use more mobility. He¡¯s asking for better speed. Isaac wants more firepower¡ªexplosives, bazookas, the works. Joseph wants his armor stripped down, even his backup gatling guns, and he¡¯s asking for a beam weapon or a laser rifle. The others don¡¯t have many specific requests, aside from colors and paint schemes.¡±

    ¡°Colors and schemes?¡± Adaline asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°What do you need that for in a combat situation?¡±

    ¡°Old habits die hard, Adaline,¡± Ed said with a grin. ¡°In combat, colors, schemes, and heraldry can make a name for us. There¡¯s honor in a symbol, and sometimes it¡¯s enough to make the enemy freeze in their tracks.¡±

    ¡°What a load of Martian history nonsense,¡± Bea muttered, half to herself, as she tucked the paper into the back of her pants. ¡°Well, I know what I need to do.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Ed said, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m glad to call you both friends.¡±

    <u>Desmond</u>

    Des knocked on the door in a sequence of five to ten taps, pausing after each set. He stepped back, glancing around as he waited for someone to answer.

    ¡°What are you doing here, half-man?¡± Arthur¡¯s voice called from inside the house. ¡°Do you need something, friend?¡±

    Des shot the large young man a sharp look, but there was no hostility in Arthur¡¯s eyes¡ªonly kindness, accompanied by a warm smile.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to speak with Henryk Brown,¡± Des said, starting to climb the steps. ¡°Is he around?¡±

    Arthur glanced over his shoulder before shaking his head. ¡°He¡¯s busy with work or studies today.¡±

    Des nodded, though his gaze flicked toward Kieren, who was standing at the window, staring out with an expression full of hate, jealousy, and annoyance.

    ¡°Is there something in particular you need to talk to him about?¡± Arthur asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m the professor attached to House Mars for the race,¡± Des explained. ¡°I wanted to meet with Henryk. I wish for him to be my champion.¡±

    Kieren punched the wall beside him, his knuckles cracking against the wood, while Arthur laughed. ¡°All this for a young princess¡¯s hand?¡±

    ¡°This world may be old-fashioned, but Henryk has a good chance of claiming it for himself,¡± Desmond said, his eyes narrowing. ¡°And imagine the power it would bring to House Mars if it happened. Especially since it seems the lad favors the girl¡ªand she him.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat as he instinctively turned to look behind him. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Edward that at once.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Des said, reaching into his pocket and handing a slip of paper to Arthur. Arthur¡¯s new bionic fingers brushed coldly against Des¡¯s hand. ¡°That¡¯s my number. Make sure Henryk gets it.¡±

    Arthur smirked and nodded, closing the door behind him. Des began descending the steps when he heard the door creak open again. Slowly turning, he half-expected to see the dark-skinned youth, but instead, he was met with a face speckled with freckles beneath reddish-brown hair.

    ¡°Why do you want to speak with Henryk?¡± Kieren asked, his voice edged with tension.

    Des glanced around awkwardly, his eyes wide. ¡°B-because I need to speak to him,¡± he stammered.

    ¡°This is about the race... Sirine,¡± Kieren said, then pointed a thumb at himself. ¡°I¡¯m the leading Squire Commander. Technically, Henryk¡¯s under my command.¡±

    Des remained silent, studying him.

    ¡°We¡¯re all Executor candidates,¡± Kieren continued with a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t get why everyone acts like Henryk¡¯s so special. Is it because he can do magic? He¡¯s just a freakin¡¯ mutant.¡±

    Des rolled his eyes and turned to walk toward his car. ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m not here to talk to you. I want to speak to Henryk.¡± He paused, his eye twitching as Kieren¡¯s words¡ªmutant¡ªechoed in his mind. Des turned back. ¡°Where were you when Oceana and the neighboring planets were burning?¡±

    Kieren shrugged. ¡°I was here, watching it all happen...¡± His eyes widened as the realization hit him.

    ¡°Oh really? So while there were videos of Henryk and the Knights of Mars out there fighting, saving hundreds¡ªthousands¡ªyou were here,¡± Des said, shaking his head. ¡°And you want me to pick you over Henryk?¡±

    He opened the car door, ready to leave.

    Kieren, seething with rage, spat out, ¡°I-I would¡¯ve gone if I could! But they asked for Henryk, not me.¡±

    Des paused, turning the key in the ignition. ¡°So Henryk gets to fight with the knights while you¡¯re stuck here with the squires? And you wonder why I¡¯m choosing Henryk?¡± He slammed the door shut, the engine roaring to life as he drove off down the road.

    Kieren stood frozen for a moment, fists clenched in anger. ¡°W-well... fuck you!¡± he shouted, but Des was already too far away, the sound of tires on gravel drowning out his voice.

    Still fuming, Kieren stormed back into the manor. Thanks to the money they¡¯d received, the repairs were finally coming together. The old building, once decaying, was slowly being restored to its former glory. The walls had been padded, and many of the more obvious damages had been replaced. The floors had been stripped and fitted with new wood. They now had power, plumbing, hot water¡ªArthur no longer had to cook in the fireplace. Wi-Fi, internet, the whole nine yards. Sure, there were still things to fix, but it didn¡¯t look half-bad anymore.

    Maybe that was what was bothering Kieren. He had won against Henryk, yet this was how they repaid him. Did they just prefer Henryk¡¯s company over his and the other squires¡¯? Fuck that, he thought. He wouldn¡¯t be the one history forgot.

    Outside, the other squires¡ªFranklin, Mateo, and Wilbur¡ªwere gathered. Franklin was tall with buck teeth, a brown bowl cut, and a slightly chubby frame. Mateo wore a beanie, with tired eyes and tanned skin. Wilbur, the shortest of the group, had long black hair, pale skin, and a muscular build.

    ¡°You won¡¯t believe this shit,¡± Kieren said, storming over to them.

    The trio looked up, surprised by his sudden outburst.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Mateo asked, his voice flat.

    Kieren scoffed. ¡°That coach the headmaster mentioned? He came to talk to Henryk.¡±

    Wilbur shrugged. ¡°Well, that¡¯s fine¡­ I heard Henryk¡¯s got a thing for Sirine.¡±

    Kieren rolled his eyes. ¡°Good for him, bad for us. I¡¯m the one leading this squire group, and we¡¯re all Executor candidates too.¡± Franklin lazily picked at his nose, casting a bored glance at the conversation. ¡°Who decided Henryk should get the spotlight? Just because he got a little fame for what happened on Oceana? If we¡¯d been there, we¡¯d have gotten twice the recognition¡ªover some mutant.¡±

    Franklin burst out laughing, but the others weren¡¯t as amused. ¡°I-it¡¯s because the Martians respect strength,¡± Franklin said between chuckles. ¡°Henryk¡¯s just had more chances to prove himself. With all the stuff going on around Venus and Neptune, he¡¯s been in the thick of it.¡±

    Kieren was about to tear into Franklin¡¯s logic, but then a light bulb flickered in his mind. ¡°You¡¯ve got a point, Franklin. If we do something to showcase our strength, we can prove we¡¯re on the same level as Henryk.¡±

    Mateo nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Yeah, but what could we do?¡±

    Kieren¡¯s eyes narrowed as an idea took shape. Slowly, he raised a finger. ¡°We fuck with one of the Houses.¡±

    The others¡¯ eyes widened in shock. ¡°Seriously? You¡¯ve gotta be kidding,¡± Wilbur said, shaking his head. ¡°We¡¯re just gonna start a fight for no reason?¡±

    ¡°Look at what House Neptune did to Henryk and Tyson,¡± Mateo commented. ¡°We¡¯d just be swinging the stick right back.¡±

    ¡°The shit stick, more like it,¡± Wilbur muttered, crossing his arms. ¡°When that storm comes back around, it¡¯s gonna bite you. Who would you even go after?¡±

    ¡°Neptune¡¯s too big,¡± Kieren said thoughtfully. ¡°Messing with them outside their house would just get us jumped.¡±

    Mateo snapped his fingers. ¡°House Venus. They¡¯ve got serious beef with Henryk. How about we mess with them? They¡¯re rich, preppy¡ªwe can handle that.¡±

    Kieren grinned. ¡°I like it. Let¡¯s fuck with House Venus.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Franklin asked, tilting his head.

    Kieren smirked, chuckling under his breath. ¡°Nothing too crazy. Maybe grab some spray cans and toilet paper¡­¡± He paused, letting the moment hang. ¡°¡­and then we¡¯ll get creative.¡±

 Heirs to The Stars II

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk was dreaming again. His body¡ªlimp, weightless¡ªfloated among the bright array of stars. Blue, purple, and yellow lights gleamed and glistened in the infinite void, and there was no gravity to anchor him. His helmet was off, and as he ran his hands over his pilot suit, he could feel the coarse fabric beneath his fingers. Strangely, though he was helmetless, his mind felt expansive, as if it had grown to encompass the vastness of the universe itself.

    The stars stretched out endlessly before him, but there was no fear. Not like when he was younger, when space had terrified him. Pirates haunted his colony, and uncounted asteroid attacks loomed like specters. He remembered the rare, but haunting disappearances¡ªmassive passenger ships vanishing, leaving behind nothing but fear and stories of tragedy.

    Yet now, floating in the quiet of space, he felt an odd comfort. It was as if everything was connected. The stars, the distant planets, all bound by an invisible thread. Earth was humanity¡¯s birthplace, but no matter the differences¡ªcreed, race, ideology¡ªhumanity had spread its touch across the stars. We were magnificent, and yet, we were brutal. We built colonies that became worlds of their own, and in that distance, we forgot. Divided by politics and war, we fought over power, forgetting that, at our core, we all came from the same place.

    Out here, in the silence of the cosmos, Henryk saw it clearly. He saw the beauty in humanity''s reach, the potential for peace in the vastness of space. If people could only see it too¡ªthis fragile beauty of existence¡ªthey might realize that a universe without war was possible.

    But then, a sharp pain flared in his mind, cutting through the calm. His fingers twitched toward his face, his left eye fluttering uncontrollably as his hand brushed against it. The sensation was strange¡ªwarm, beckoning, but alien.

    ¡°W-what is this?¡± Henryk muttered, his voice trembling with confusion.

    His tutors had never spoken of this. His whole life, he had been bound to planets, to the solid weight of gravity beneath his feet. But now, for the first time, he was constantly shifting between worlds. The unease of being untethered gnawed at him, leaving him feeling adrift, his mind expanded beyond comprehension. He could sense others¡ªsouls like candle flames flickering in the distance, their emotions rippling through him.

    ¡°F-fuck, it hurts!¡± Henryk cried out, gripping his head as a searing, red-hot pain tore through him. Sweat beaded along his brow as his breathing grew ragged. Despite the agony, his eyes remained fixed on the stars.

    "Will it, Henryk. Bend it to your will... concentrate." The words came from deep within him, unbidden yet firm.

    He knew the Sons of Mars had always warned against letting emotions rule. He had learned the cost of that lesson on Oceana II. But now, floating in this vast emptiness, emotions seemed inescapable¡ªalive and overwhelming.

    Henryk still felt the tremor in his chest, his breath unsteady, but he focused on the connection¡ªlike grasping another''s hand in the dark. Slowly, the sensation grew stronger, and with that connection, he was pulled deeper into the void. He was there.

    Amidst the cold expanse of the universe, he felt a pressure, like something drawing closer. Pushing himself upward, he found his feet connecting to no tangible surface, yet he walked. Stars shimmered in the distance as he moved within this ethereal plane, each step soundless, weightless. Ahead of him, a structure appeared.

    It was a building, grey and utilitarian, with crumbled brick and shattered windows, as if blasted apart by an explosion. A warm, dull yellow light seeped from within, flickering through the destruction. Henryk approached, a familiar sensation washing over him¡ªhe had felt this before.

    "S-Sirine?" he called out, the name slipping from his lips like a whisper.

    From the plateau below, her image emerged, ethereal and haunting. Sirine¡ªher silvery hair swaying in a phantom wind, her smile soft but distant, eyes gleaming with a lustful gaze that fixed on him. Memories surged in his mind¡ªher in his room, bra undone, the curve of her body outlined in tight clothes, and the tension between them, palpable. He had saved her¡ªsaved her from death during her runaway attempt, saved her from Jace.

    But another name tugged at his thoughts.

    "Piper?"

    Her laughter echoed, confident and bold, as she stepped past him on a bridge that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Piper¡ªso different from Sirine¡ªwalked with that same ease and fire in her stride. Her grey and green eyes locked onto his, the intensity of her gaze piercing as her orange curls bounced around her face. She smiled, that mischievous smile, never breaking her focus on him even as she moved away.

    Both Sirine and Piper faded into stardust, dissolving before him.

    "N-no, this isn''t right¡­ their emotions, their energy, it¡¯s not the same," Henryk muttered to himself, shaking off the images. "Similar, but not this¡­"

    He climbed a set of stairs that appeared beneath him, his feet finally finding solidity. The warmth of the light grew stronger as he reached a doorway. Pushing it open, he stepped inside.

    The interior was as wrecked as the exterior. A once-living room, now torn apart by chaos. Figures huddled behind crumbling walls, gripping assault rifles¡ªmagazines hanging from their sides. Some wore gas masks, others bore more specialized gear, but there were no Warcaskets in sight.

    The wind howled outside, growing fiercer as Henryk moved farther into the space. His steps were quiet, deliberate, as he climbed the final set of stairs. At the top stood a lone figure, draped in a cowl.

    The figure was small, petite even, shorter than most. Her hands clung to the sides of a table scattered with papers. Henryk approached her cautiously, his every movement measured. Just as he reached her, she turned...

    Her eyes widened as if she were struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. She shouldn¡¯t have been able to¡ªthis was just a dream, a strange lucid dream, it had to be. And yet, she was staring at him with shock and surprise, her gaze piercing through the haze.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked, her hands still gripping the edge of the table as though it were her only anchor.

    Henryk was struck into silence, stunned by the sight of her. She threw off her hood, and his breath caught in his throat. She wasn¡¯t¡­ she wasn¡¯t baseline human. Something had happened. Something had changed her. Maybe it was a genetic mutation, or perhaps it came from one of her parents. But now, her features emerged¡ªher delicate, doe-like nose and sharp, piercing brown eyes coming into view.

    Her skin¡ªor rather, fur¡ªwas a soft, beigeish brown that seemed to shimmer under the dim light, covering her entire body. Henryk instinctively stepped back, but she continued to fade into sharper focus, revealing more of herself. Her tail swished beneath the folds of her robe, and as she pulled back the hood completely, floppy ears rested atop her head.

    A mutant. Scorned throughout the galaxy, much like him. There was a connection between them that he could feel deep in his bones. Oddly, despite everything, she was beautiful in her own way. For a brief moment, Henryk caught himself wondering how soft and soothing it would feel to brush his hand along the fur of her face, but he stopped himself from lingering on the thought.

    ¡°I-I... my name is Henryk,¡± he finally managed to say, his voice shaky.

    ¡°Okay, Henryk¡­ how the hell did you get in here?¡± she demanded, her eyes narrowing as her hands subtly moved to her sides, as if ready to defend herself.

    Before he could answer, the world around them began to dissolve. ¡°You¡­ you were reaching out to me, and I¡ª¡±

    Her eyes widened again, this time with recognition. Light, blinding and fierce, erupted between them. It circled around them, swirling and coiling like living tendrils. Henryk grabbed his head in a futile attempt to steady himself, but the girl didn¡¯t seem affected. The light intensified, wrapping around them both, thickening and twisting until it formed a cluster of glowing vines that bound them together. At the center of the spiraling light, a brilliant yellow orb pulsed with energy.

    ¡°W-what are you?¡± Henryk gasped, his voice strained. His head throbbed, and it felt like it was about to split open. ¡°What¡¯s happening to me¡­?¡±

    She glanced at him, then back at the blazing light. Her expression softened with understanding. ¡°We are¡­ resonating,¡± she said quietly.

    And in that instant, Henryk¡¯s mind was flooded with memories that weren¡¯t his own. He saw flashes of fire¡ªblazing, consuming. The sensation of rough wood splintering against a face that wasn¡¯t his. The sharp sounds of dogs barking, snarling, as small legs¡ªher legs¡ªdesperately scrambled through thick mud. The roar of a crowd echoed in his ears. People were cheering, chanting her name. A fragile crown, made of gold and studded with rubies, was placed upon ears that were not human. The crowd, they were bowing, reverent, and they declared her¡­

    Queen.

    "You''ve been fighting since you were a little girl," Henryk said quietly, his voice wavering. "I¡ªI don¡¯t even know what to say."

    "Conflict is conflict," Katlina replied, her tone hardened yet distant. "It made me strong."

    Henryk swallowed, his thoughts racing. "You''re very brave," he said, his voice soft. "I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d have the strength to do what you''ve done. Seeing it through your eyes, feeling your emotions... I¡ª" His words caught in his throat.

    "H-Henryk... I..." Katlina stuttered, her voice trembling. "I can¡¯t see you. I can¡¯t understand you." The emotions between them began to fragment, like a radio signal cutting out. The memories came in disjointed bursts¡ªa family without a father, a young girl burdened with responsibilities beyond her years, and the horrors of war, fire, and blood. And the fear¡ªthe fear of what Henryk might become. Would he embrace the darkness or hold onto what made him... him?

    The connection between them wavered, fading in and out.

    "W-We can understand one another," Katlina urged, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Let me in, let me understand who you are."

    But Henryk¡¯s fear gripped him, paralyzing. "Maybe one day, Katlina¡­ but I¡ª" He hesitated as their connection began to slip. "This connection is..."

    "Ah, Henryk," she whispered, her voice growing faint as he floated further away, reality slowly pulling him back. "I¡ªI see time¡­"

    For a brief moment, Katlina glimpsed fragments of the future¡ªstorm-heavy skies streaked with lightning, an epic battle on the horizon. Machines adorned with fabrics of heraldry and identity descended through the thunderous clouds, raining destruction upon the enemy below.

    "We¡¯ll meet again, Henryk," Katlina said softly, her words lingering as Henryk felt the last thread of the connection snap. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling of his room.

    He shot up from his bed, his body slick with sweat, his newly trained muscles tense from exertion. The walls around him were repaired, but inside, he felt as if he were still falling apart. With a sudden surge of frustration, he slammed his hand against the bed.

    "D-Damn it!" he growled through clenched teeth. "Now I can¡¯t even get proper sleep. I''ve got to deal with the stress of school, the anxiety of battle, the bullying... the trauma of Oceana II." His voice wavered, frustration turning into a bitter edge. "And I can¡¯t catch a lick of sleep because of this... this ability!"

    He collapsed back onto the bed, his face twisted in frustration, fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

    The weight of it all was getting heavier¡ªharder and harder to shake off. Sleep was becoming elusive, the music that once flowed from him so naturally now seemed distant, unreachable. Keeping up with the Sons of Mars was exhausting, and the battle of Oceana II had awakened something within him, something dark. He knew he was a good pilot now, but there was a dangerous thrill in that realization. Being a Son of Mars meant wielding the sword that cut through history itself.

    But that sword came at a price.

    He had killed so many GrimGar in the sewers, a blood-soaked frenzy amidst the madness of the Sons of Pluto. He¡¯d been good, yes¡ªbut good at what? At killing? The memory of that day haunted him. People had died¡ªso many people. The thought of climbing into another mech, of risking his life again, filled him with dread. He had thought Piper had made him realize how fragile life truly was, but Oceana II had shown him something far worse. The sheer scale of death and destruction in that shattered city, the apocalyptic ruin of it all¡ªit was more than he had ever imagined.

    He needed to talk to Ed. Ed always gave more luxuries and responsibilities to the Knights of Mars, especially those with training. Meanwhile, Henryk felt trapped in the daily grind¡ªgoing to classes, doing his music assignments, but none of it felt creative anymore. The last time he¡¯d touched an instrument for fun, for himself, had been before the expedition.

    They were pushing him too hard, and he couldn¡¯t quit his job¡­ heck, why had he even come here in the first place? To bring honor and glory to his planet and colony? But that dream, like so many of his other dreams, seemed to be shrinking with every passing moment, anxiety creeping into every corner of his mind.

    His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a soft tapping sound. It took a moment for him to register that it was coming from his window. Pebbles. His eyes widened as he saw the small stones bouncing off the glass. Already dressed in sweatpants, Henryk grabbed his sweater and pulled it on before heading over to the window.

    Pushing the curtains aside, he peered down, and his breath caught.

    "Marcus?" Henryk called out, surprised.

    <u>Kieren</u>

    ¡°We get caught in Venus territory, we¡¯re gonna be so screwed,¡± Kieren muttered, his voice tense as he stomped ahead, leading the way through the forest. Wilbur, Mateo, and Franklin trailed behind him, their footsteps crackling over branches and dried leaves.

    Wilbur adjusted the strap across his chest, gripping the duffel bag a little tighter. Franklin, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t stop glancing around nervously, his wide eyes tracking every shadow and flicker of movement in the trees. The calls of unseen avian creatures echoed overhead, making him shudder.

    ¡°Relax,¡± Mateo said, noticing Franklin¡¯s unease. His voice was calm as he cast a quick glance toward Kieren, who was storming ahead. ¡°I know you¡¯re from an Innworld, but this forest is enclosed by the city. We¡¯re not out in the wild.¡±

    Franklin¡¯s tense shoulders eased, but not by much. ¡°That¡¯s not what¡¯s worrying me,¡± he whispered, though his tone lacked confidence. ¡°Are we really sure this is a good idea?¡±

    He thought he¡¯d been quiet, but Kieren¡¯s ears were sharp. The group came to an abrupt halt as Kieren spun around, eyes narrowing dangerously. ¡°You wanna run back with your tail between your legs, Frank?¡± he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Frank hesitated, his gaze drifting to the side before he spoke. ¡°Kieren, I don¡¯t understand you.¡±

    Kieren¡¯s eyes widened, taken aback. ¡°What did you just say?¡±

    Frank went on, undeterred. ¡°We¡¯re all here because we couldn¡¯t get into any other houses. We¡¯re the rejects. Back in the day, House Mars would¡¯ve spat on us for even trying to join¡­but I guess after losing so many of their members and resources¡­¡± His voice trailed off.

    Kieren cut him off, his frustration rising. ¡°Maybe, but I plan to rise through the ranks,¡± he snapped, glaring at the group. They all looked disinterested, almost melancholic, which only fueled his growing anger. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be Executor candidates, and yet it¡¯s Henryk who gets all the praise, all the attention!¡±

    He stopped walking and faced the others, his hands outstretched as if trying to make them see sense. ¡°Come on, I get it. He¡¯s a mutant who can do his fancy tricks¡ªlike some circus monkey. But I¡¯m technically in charge of the squires for training, and even you guys don¡¯t seem to care.¡±

    Mateo¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Like Frank said, we¡¯re only here because we didn¡¯t have any other option,¡± he replied, glancing at the others. ¡°House Mars used to be great. Who¡¯s to say it can¡¯t rise to prominence again?¡±

    Wilbur nodded in agreement. ¡°Kieren, your drive is commendable, but it¡¯s risky. Besides, I don¡¯t even think what they do to Henryk is favoritism.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Kieren shot back, his tone sharp.

    ¡°He¡¯s the only one who gets any attention,¡± Kieren continued, his voice bitter. ¡°Even that little man earlier acted like we didn¡¯t exist, like we weren¡¯t even there¡­just Henryk and the knights, all for Sirine.¡±

    Mateo snickered. ¡°Didn¡¯t realize you cared that much,¡± he teased.

    Kieren shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Sirine¡¯s a princess, royalty¡­and she¡¯s gorgeous.¡±

    Franklin¡¯s eyes widened behind his glasses. ¡°Wait¡­what?¡± he muttered, giving Kieren a look.

    ¡°What?¡± Kieren barked.

    ¡°Sirine¡­you mean the girl who¡¯s always up in Henryk¡¯s room?¡± Wilbur clarified, raising an eyebrow.

    Kieren nodded, his smirk widening.

    A dry chuckle came from Mateo. ¡°So, you¡¯re not just after Henryk¡¯s position, but his woman too?¡± Wilbur remarked, uncrossing his arms and glancing at the others. ¡°¡­We¡¯re really going to follow this guy? Trust him?¡±

    Kieren rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m the only one here trying to achieve the real goal of this house.¡±

    A cricket chirped in the silence.

    ¡°¡­And what exactly is this ¡®end goal¡¯?¡± Wilbur asked.

    ¡°Simple. Knighthood,¡± Kieren said without hesitation.

    ¡°You want to be a knight?¡± Mateo said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You do realize that even in training, some don¡¯t make the cut. They end up as high-value serfs.¡±

    ¡°High-value serfs?¡± Franklin questioned, looking puzzled. ¡°Where¡¯d you hear that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called paying attention when the knights tell you to study your house¡¯s history,¡± Mateo lectured, his tone sharp.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Franklin mumbled, raising his hands defensively.

    But Mateo wasn¡¯t done. ¡°There¡¯s no excuse for a weak and uneducated mind, especially in this changing universe.¡±

    Kieren rolled his eyes at the self-righteous declaration. ¡°We¡¯re cool space knights,¡± he said, raising a fist. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re training to be. One day we¡¯ll have their spikes, their strength, and perception.¡±

    ¡°Strength and perception?¡± Franklin repeated. ¡°What are you even talking about?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s rambling about the mutations on their backs,¡± Mateo cut in.

    ¡°Not mutations¡­implants,¡± Kieren corrected. ¡°Arthur told me about them.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so someone does talk to you,¡± Mateo quipped, smirking.

    Kieren let out a dark chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re a real funny guy, Mateo. Real funny.¡±

    Before Mateo could retort, Wilbur spoke, his voice shaky, and everyone noticed the tremor in his tone before he even said a word. ¡°I don¡¯t know why any of you want to be part of this.¡±

    All eyes turned to him, widening in surprise. Wilbur shot a glance at Kieren. ¡°A knight?¡± he muttered, then looked at Mateo. ¡°A high-value serf?¡± His sneer deepened as he stared at the ground. ¡°The real question we should be asking is¡­ are we going to live long enough to see any of these so-called rewards?¡±

    The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint creak of insects in the underbrush.

    Wilbur pressed on, his voice firm. ¡°Kieren, you¡¯re obsessed with Henryk.¡±

    Kieren sneered, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Like hell I am. That mutant freak¡­ I should sock you for saying that!¡± He took a threatening step forward, but the other two boys quickly stepped in, keeping them apart.

    Wilbur didn¡¯t back down. ¡°Then how can you look at everything going on¡ªon social media, the news¡ªand still want to walk the same path?¡± Silence fell over the group as Wilbur continued. ¡°That planet in the Oceana Sector? It¡¯s being called the worst GrimGar infestation in history. The photos, the videos¡ªit¡¯s a living hell out there. Scorched and breaking apart.¡±

    His hands trembled, and he glanced down, trying to steady them. ¡°How can you see what Henryk, House Mars, and the others¡ªHouse Pluto, House Mercury¡ªwent through, and still want to emulate them?¡±

    Kieren¡¯s sneer deepened. ¡°For honor. For glory. That¡¯s why we¡¯re at this academy,¡± he said, pausing, his eyes gleaming with ambition. ¡°Honestly, I have a dream of holding a leadership position in the Sons of Mars.¡±

    Mateo and the others exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of disbelief and weariness, but Kieren met their gazes head-on. ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± he added, his voice resolute.

    The others sighed, groaned, and grimaced. Kieren, undeterred, pressed on. ¡°Listen, who knows what House Mars will be like in a few years? We could hold serious positions if we become knights. If we survive, and if we honor the traditions of Mars¡­¡±

    ¡°If we live long enough,¡± Wilbur muttered under his breath.

    The snap of a twig broke the tension, the sound sharp and unsettling in the stillness of the forest. It echoed through the trees, reminding them they weren¡¯t alone.

    ¡°We¡¯re wasting time,¡± Kieren snapped, turning sharply on his heel. ¡°We¡¯re dragging this out longer than we should. We mess with them, get it done, and get out. Heck, if we stick to the plan, we¡¯ll be back in our beds in less than an hour.¡±

    <u>Edward</u>

    It was raining outside the window behind Ed¡¯s desk, the rhythmic tap of water against glass the only sound, save for the quiet hum of a lone desk lamp. Its warm orange glow bathed the room, casting soft shadows on Arthur, August, and Joeseph¡¯s faces. Arthur¡¯s confident smirk was unmistakable, his arms crossed, eyes gleaming with that familiar hunger for battle. Ed¡¯s gaze flicked momentarily to the metallic glint of Arthur¡¯s mechanical fingers¡ªreplacements for the ones lost. A necessary investment Ed had made from the treasury, though the cost had been more than just money.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s this all about, Ed?¡± Joeseph asked, his tone clipped and wary. ¡°Why call us here?¡±

    Ed nodded slowly, gathering his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ve got a mission for you two,¡± he said, gesturing to Arthur and August. ¡°When you''re done, I¡¯ll be speaking to Joeseph separately. But he''s got clearance to hear this.¡±

    ¡°Clearance?¡± Joeseph repeated, raising an eyebrow.

    Ed leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. The sound of rain against the window seemed to sync with the movement, filling the brief silence. He turned his gaze to Arthur. ¡°You¡¯ve been itching for a good fight, Arthur. I¡¯ve got something that''ll meet your expectations. But,¡± Ed paused, shifting his attention to August, ¡°August here needs to be reminded of the Martian way of things.¡± His fist clenched as he finished the sentence, the words heavy with implication.

    Arthur¡¯s surprise was brief, quickly replaced by a knowing grin. ¡°Ah, I see,¡± he said, his voice a low rumble. ¡°You want me to show Fleeboy how we handle things our way¡ªup close and personal.¡±

    August¡¯s face paled, sweat gathering on his brow. Ed chuckled dryly, but Joeseph¡¯s expression remained hard as stone, his eyes locked on the exchange.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have access to the transport for a bit,¡± Ed continued, his voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s been repaired since Oceana. Arthur, you can take your mech, and August, we¡¯ll issue you one.¡±

    August, visibly trembling, raised a hand hesitantly. ¡°E-Ed, I¡¯ve never really¡­ shot anything before,¡± he stammered.

    Arthur let out a harsh sneer and slapped August hard on the back, nearly knocking him forward. ¡°None of that,¡± Arthur growled. ¡°I can feel the spikes along your spine! You carry the weight of your lineage, August. The blood of warriors flows through you, whether you realize it or not.¡±

    Ed and Joeseph watched in silence, their expressions unreadable, as Arthur balled his fist in solidarity.

    ¡°You have the glory and responsibility of your lineage on your back,¡± Arthur pressed. ¡°Your father¡¯s or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Gene banks,¡± August interrupted, his voice soft, almost detached. He cast his eyes downward, unable to meet Arthur¡¯s gaze. ¡°My father died from the atomics.¡±

    A heavy silence fell over the room, the rain outside seeming to grow louder in the absence of conversation. The spikes that connected them across generations, that bestowed the ancient gifts of their people, were a burden as much as a blessing. But there were secrets yet to be uncovered, even for those like Henryk and the others¡ªsecrets the older generations guarded fiercely.

    The moment passed, the weight of their history hanging thick in the air, unspoken but ever-present.

    ¡°Speaking of the gene-banks,¡± Ed began, drawing all eyes toward him, his voice sharp and commanding. ¡°Your mission is in a couple of days, so if you need anything specific, let me know beforehand. I¡¯ve been talking to Vin, and he says they¡¯re up and running.¡±

    A ripple of surprise passed through the room.

    ¡°Where are they going to be stored?¡± August asked, his voice tight with curiosity.

    Arthur snorted, trying to hide a smirk behind his hand.

    ¡°What?¡± August snapped, his gaze narrowing.

    ¡°Nothing¡­¡± Arthur dragged out, suppressing a chuckle that never quite vanished from his lips.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Ed continued, his tone curt and cutting through the tension. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you lot, but my spikes have been attached since the fall of Mars. I know you guys got your extras. How many?¡±

    August raised his hand. ¡°I¡¯ve got my five.¡±

    Ed nodded, flicking open his laptop. ¡°Good¡­ good. I¡¯m going to draft up the Knight Orders we¡¯ve got in circulation and tally how many spikes we have. ¡®The True Sons,¡¯ that¡¯s a noble order to come from. That¡¯s five.¡±

    Joeseph tilted his head slightly, his voice a low rumble. ¡°I¡¯ve had mine trimmed¡ªonly kept my command spike.¡±

    Ed nodded again, this time more thoughtfully, then turned his attention to Arthur. ¡°Tonight, before you go, I want you to go through the Rubicon.¡±

    Silence followed, thick and heavy with hesitation, hanging between them like a weight.

    Arthur, after a moment, stepped forward. ¡°I accept the burden,¡± he declared solemnly, resting his hand over his chest in a gesture of oath.

    August¡¯s eyes widened in shock, and even Joeseph, ever composed, looked startled. ¡°Edward, isn¡¯t this a bit too fast? He¡¯ll need time to recover before the mission, and¡ª"

    Ed cut him off with a sneer. ¡°Joeseph, a true Knight of Mars would shrug off that exhaustion. We don¡¯t have the luxury of time anymore.¡± He leaned back in his chair, the sound of the rain outside filling the brief lull. ¡°Listen, we¡¯ve got a good thing going. The house is slowly being repaired, people are settling into Academy life, and the new recruits are advancing steadily.¡±

    Arthur chuckled, a rough, sardonic sound. ¡°Advancing steadily?¡± He repeated. ¡°More like Henryk and Kieren are doing well. The others, though?¡± He paused, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated gesture. ¡°I¡¯m still on board to boot them.¡±

    ¡°Arthur!¡± August snapped unexpectedly, his usual calm demeanor breaking for just a moment. ¡°We can¡¯t just throw them out! If we kick them, who else is going to take them?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Arthur said, his smirk returning, cold and sharp. ¡°No one else wants them. But we¡¯re the ones stuck with them.¡±

    Ed gazed at Arthur as the latter parted his lips to speak. ¡°Lord Ed,¡± Arthur began, and Ed chuckled at the title. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Henryk and Kieren make leaps and bounds in their training. Hell, if it wasn¡¯t for Joeseph saying Kieren wasn¡¯t ready, I would¡¯ve taken him along with Henryk. They both would¡¯ve tasted blood that day.¡±

    Joeseph¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Hey!¡± he interrupted, his voice sharp. ¡°Kieren wasn¡¯t ready!¡± He paused, turning to Ed with a serious expression. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the way Henryk and Kieren interact. They¡¯re either fighting, arguing, cursing each other out, or outright avoiding one another. We¡¯re a small group, and the others feel it too.¡±

    Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a smirk. ¡°Rivalries among the Sons of Mars!¡± he scoffed sarcastically.

    Joeseph¡¯s fingers clenched into fists, the movement catching Arthur¡¯s eye. Arthur¡¯s expression shifted, his face hardening as the servos in his bionic fingers whirred ominously.

    ¡°Kieren is a disrespectful little shit,¡± Joeseph continued through gritted teeth. ¡°He¡¯s talented, sure, but at least Henryk tries to learn what makes a Knight of Mars a true knight. Kieren skips all my lessons, except for Arthur¡¯s combat training, and he revels in bossing the squires around.¡±

    ¡°This is tradition,¡± Arthur shot back, addressing Ed. ¡°Henryk got pissy and lost the position. Kieren has free reign to run the training as he sees fit.¡±

    Joeseph¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I wonder, Arthur, if you¡¯re just an idiot because you were raised on a feudal world, or if you¡¯re inherently fucking stupid.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s fists rose, ready to fight, but Ed stepped forward quickly. ¡°Enough!¡± Ed¡¯s voice boomed, halting Arthur in his tracks. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± he repeated firmly.

    Taking a deep breath, Ed continued. ¡°We cannot have division within our ranks.¡± He turned to Arthur, his voice measured but resolute. ¡°Arthur, you¡¯re right about tradition, but I will not let Kieren abuse the squires. And I¡¯m not getting rid of any of them. They may not be the best, but we molded Kieren and Henryk into warriors. The others may just need time.¡±

    Arthur bristled, his arms still crossed, his jaw clenched.

    Joeseph shook his head, incredulous. ¡°Kieren and Henryk¡ªwarriors?¡± He repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. ¡°Do any of you hear yourselves? Fine, call Kieren whatever you want, but Henryk?¡± He turned to Ed, his voice dropping. ¡°Edward, he doesn¡¯t belong here. He¡¯s the last kind of guy who should be here.¡±

    Ed''s eyes widened at Joeseph¡¯s outburst, but he sighed deeply. ¡°Listen, Joeseph, Henryk is here by choice. He came to us¡­¡±

    ¡°He was saved by me,¡± Arthur interjected curtly, fixing a deep glare on Joeseph.

    Joeseph¡¯s patience snapped. ¡°Okay, what¡¯s your fucking problem?¡±

    Arthur smirked. ¡°You just have a problem with everything I do. Henryk brought honor to himself, his family, and he bore the armor of House Mars. He was a warrior that day, and here you are¡­ denying him that very right.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t denounce Henryk as a warrior. I heard from the guys in House Pluto about what Henryk was like down there. The magic he wielded, they said it invigorated them, gave them the strength to fight through exhaustion,¡± Joeseph retorted.

    Silence hung in the air for a moment. Arthur took a heavy breath. ¡°A knight. A wizard. A Druid Knight. A Druid Knight Executor.¡± His tone was reverent.

    Joeseph shook his head. ¡°Henryk is just a normal guy with talent, Arthur. Back in the day, those stories were¡­¡±

    ¡°They were not myths,¡± Arthur interrupted with a sneer, pointing at Ed. ¡°He¡¯s proof of that. The tale of Executors, the tale of a king,¡± Arthur continued, eyes burning with conviction as he gestured toward Ed. ¡°In our darkest time, our darkest hour, both a Golden Prince and an Executor arose. The Galaxy will feel the wrath of our dead fathers once again.¡±

    August stared at the exchange, stunned and lost. Joeseph and Arthur had been arguing, and now Ed was merely watching, his expression unreadable.

    ¡°Enough with Henryk!¡± Ed slammed his hand hard on the desk, his voice cutting through the room. ¡°Is this what you all want to do? Talk, talk, talk¡ªargue, argue, argue? We finally have a chance to do something good, and all I hear is talk of kicking out key members or complaints about abuse in the ranks!¡± His voice ground to a halt, followed by a deep sigh.

    Joeseph leaned against the wall, his face tight with anger. ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯ve hardly held anyone accountable... because we¡¯re hardly a unit anymore. We saw something different on Oceana.¡±

    ¡°What the hell do you expect from me then?¡± Ed shot back.

    Joeseph sneered. ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for this shit!¡± he shouted. ¡°I work for the resistance. I didn¡¯t sign up to watch you ruin some guy¡¯s life just because he¡¯s talented, or because some people believe in a fucking prophecy!¡±

    All eyes turned toward Joeseph, the weight of his proclamation hanging heavy in the room.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Arthur exclaimed, staring at Joeseph in disbelief. ¡°R-resistance?¡± he repeated, narrowing his eyes.

    August, too, froze, his breath catching in his throat, his pulse quickening. ¡°No way¡­¡±

    Joeseph took a step toward Ed¡¯s desk, his tone hard. ¡°Henryk isn¡¯t okay. He¡¯s quieter than he¡¯s ever been, and I keep seeing him just¡­ lingering alone. I can feel it¡ªsomething¡¯s off. And all I hear is how good he did¡­ but he didn¡¯t have to go through what he did with House Mars. This all could¡¯ve been avoided!¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened in warning. ¡°Joeseph¡­¡± He stretched out his comrade¡¯s name slowly, the tension in his voice palpable. ¡°Be very careful about what you¡¯re about to say.¡±

    Joeseph didn¡¯t back down, his gaze unwavering. ¡°We are Knights of Mars, and we chose this path. Henryk didn¡¯t have to. That night at the party changed everything, didn¡¯t it, Edward?¡± A faint smirk crossed Joeseph¡¯s lips, and Ed felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow.

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t get what you mean by it could¡¯ve been avoided,¡± August stammered, drawing all eyes toward him. ¡°T-the House Neptune situation¡­ they had a problem with him first, and they sent that lynch mob after him¡­¡±

    Joeseph sneered, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to darken, as though the very air was closing in on Ed, choking him. Arthur and August exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the suffocating tension. Joeseph had backed Ed into a corner, and now, the weight of the secret he¡¯d been keeping threatened to unravel.

    ¡°No, that all came after,¡± Joeseph corrected, fixing his glare on Ed. ¡°Henryk was scouted by nearly every House. Hell, he saved Logan of Neptune¡ªeveryone knows how famous Logan and his older brother are. Poster boys. Even after Henryk rejected Neptune and saved Ty from a beatdown, they didn¡¯t care enough to come after him. It wasn¡¯t worth their time. Logan probably didn¡¯t even care.¡±

    He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. ¡°But then¡­ the night of the party happened. And everything changed.¡±

    ¡°That was the night¡­¡± August began, but his voice faltered.

    Joeseph sighed and continued. ¡°Yeah. That was the night Hannah¡ªthe princess of Venus herself¡ªaccused Henryk of trying to rape her.¡±

    A heavy silence fell over the room, the weight of Joeseph¡¯s words crashing down like a tidal wave.

    Arthur sneered, breaking the stillness. ¡°I don¡¯t fucking buy it,¡± he declared, voice hard with disbelief.

    Joeseph pressed on, undeterred. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you believe, Arthur. It doesn¡¯t matter what I believe. What matters is what everyone else believed. And after that night, Henryk¡¯s options for Houses dried up. Even the crappy Houses, like House Pluto, turned him away. And that¡¯s when House Neptune and House Venus banded together. They sent out hunting parties to find him. You were there, Arthur. You saw the state they were in.¡±

    Arthur stood silent, his mind drifting back to the weight of his great sword as he held it in both hands. He could still recall seeing the girl in the distance, standing in the enclave of the open forest. Sunlight beamed through the treeline, casting golden shafts across the clearing. She was short, even for a girl, with twinkling blue eyes and twin blonde pigtails. In that light, she seemed almost angelic¡ªbut she was the one holding the noose. How could Henryk ever forget that moment? How could any of them forget?

    Joeseph¡¯s voice broke through the haze. "Now Henryk¡¯s far from home, obviously tweaking the hell out after Oceana II, and stuck in a place full of people who despise him, bully him, and want to either hurt him or worse¡­ kill him!" His breath was labored, anger simmering beneath his words. He threw his head back, gaze shifting toward Arthur and August. ¡°You lot better be careful with what kind of missions you accept from Ed. Royal blood or not, this one¡¯s a liar,¡± Joeseph declared, his finger jabbing in Ed¡¯s direction.

    ¡°J-Joe¡­¡± August stuttered, but Joeseph cut him off, his hand still aimed squarely at Ed.

    "Go on, Ed," Joeseph urged, his voice cold. ¡°Tell them what you told me. Before, I thought we were going to trade Henryk away, but it¡¯s clear now what this really means. He should know¡ªbefore he risks life and limb, before he can never see his family again¡ªtell him how you ruined his life.¡±

 Chapter 5 - "No Matter How Small, You Cant Come Back From Divinity" - Book 2

    <u>Kieren</u>

    Kieren climbed the scaffolding of House Venus¡¯s regal mansion, the structure clearly in need of repairs, perhaps from weather or simple erosion. Now, under the cover of night, Kieren clung to the beams, feeling the cold October wind bite at his rolled-up sleeves, goosebumps rising on his skin as the gusts swept through.

    ¡°Kieren!¡± Mateo hissed up from below, his voice tense but careful not to be too loud. He glared upward. ¡°Be careful up there! Look around, man, it doesn¡¯t seem secure.¡±

    Kieren shifted his foot cautiously, sweat sliding down his brow as the wood beneath him groaned ominously. He cringed but pushed forward. ¡°I-It¡¯ll be fine¡­¡± he muttered through clenched teeth.

    He glanced down at the other squires gathered below. ¡°You know what to do¡ªmess with them,¡± Kieren ordered, raising a fist for emphasis.

    Wilbur and Franklin nodded eagerly, but Mateo, less convinced, cast a sharp look at the group. ¡°So this is what you¡¯re all planning to do? What¡¯s enough, Kieren? We need to know the limits.¡±

    Kieren only rolled his eyes, his voice laced with impatience. ¡°I expect you to figure that out,¡± he called back before scrambling higher up the structure.

    Wilbur and Franklin shared a look of excitement, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. Wilbur hefted the duffel bag and turned to the others. ¡°The Squires of House Mars¡­¡± he said with a smirk, ¡°choose your weapons.¡±

    He unzipped the bag, revealing its contents: rolls of toilet paper, cartons of eggs, and cans of brightly colored spray paint.

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna hit these rich bastards hard,¡± Franklin said with a dangerous glint in his eye.

    ¡°For Henryk,¡± Mateo added, his voice firm.

    The others exchanged glances before nodding in agreement, raising their fists. ¡°For Henryk, and House Mars.¡±

    They slipped around to a more secluded spot at the back of the manor. It was a random weekday¡ªquiet, uneventful. Campus had been relatively peaceful since the chaos of Oceana. But unbeknownst to Ed, House Mars was about to reignite the flames.

    Wilbur pulled a roll of toilet paper from the duffel bag and lobbed it over the trees toward the mansion. After the first throw, he hesitated, waiting with bated breath, his mouth dry as he listened for any reaction. But the muffled hum of music and conversation continued to drift out from the dimmed, opaque windows.

    ¡°These rich assholes won¡¯t know what hit ¡¯em,¡± he murmured, turning to the others with a sly grin. Even Mateo couldn¡¯t help but let a smirk creep across his face.

    Grabbing a handful of eggs, Mateo hurled them at the walls, watching as they splattered across the pristine exterior. The sound of stifled giggles broke the silence, but it was Franklin who really let loose. The rattle of his spray can filled the night air as he shook it vigorously, the quiet quickly vanishing.

    Franklin started laughing, holding up the can of deep purple paint¡ªpicked deliberately to match the planet¡¯s colors¡ªand began drawing on the walls.

    ¡°A penis, bro!¡± Wilbur burst into laughter as Franklin, the tallest of the group, took his time. He meticulously added obscene details, making the design as huge and difficult to clean as possible. The others chuckled along, all too caught up in the mischief to notice what was really going on inside House Venus.

    Blinded by the adrenaline rush of pulling off their prank, they had no idea what the house members were dealing with¡ªwhy they hadn''t heard the commotion outside. But at that moment, the three boys didn¡¯t care. They were high on the thrill.

    Meanwhile, Kieren was climbing higher, finding a ladder propped against the building. As he ascended, the wood beneath him creaked ominously, less stable with each step. He felt the cool October wind lash against his face, whipping his hair as he reached new heights. From here, he could see the entire campus¡ªthe forest lines, the skyscrapers looming like a concrete rectangle around the city.

    Kieren glanced skyward, catching sight of the twin moons and the scatter of stars above. But his focus quickly returned to the level just above him: the top floor, where he knew the House President¡¯s office and private room were located.

    A smirk spread across his face¡ªthis was the perfect way to mess with them.

    Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a spray can, ready to cause some real damage. But as he climbed the final rung of the ladder, he realized something¡ªthe railing was missing. He wobbled, arms outstretched as he fought to regain his balance, his heart racing. Now directly in front of the window, he was focused on not falling, but then his eyes caught sight of something nearby¡ªa toolbox, filled with tools.

    An idea sparked in his mind, and Kieren¡¯s smirk widened. This was going to be more than just a prank. It was going to be legendary.

    <u>Hannah</u>

    ¡°You sound fucking crazy!¡± Jace slurred, his voice thick with alcohol.

    Hannah stood before him in a sleek black dress, the soft fabric trailing down her wrist and into her palm, giving her some sense of control. Her hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, and her piercing purple eyes blazed as she stared at her brother.

    ¡°Jace, you can¡¯t just ignore all the evidence! We have every reason to be worried,¡± she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.

    But Jace shook his head, staggering drunkenly toward the kitchen. His hand fumbled along the counter as he moved. Her dress swept across the floor as she followed, frustration building inside her. He should¡¯ve been ready by now!

    ¡°You had dinner plans with the Headmaster and Sirine!¡± she yelled, her voice rising.

    Jace waved her off dismissively. ¡°I forgot about it,¡± he mumbled, pausing briefly before throwing his arms out to the sides. ¡°Come on, Han, like you actually wanted me to go to that.¡±

    A lazy smile stretched across his face, his eyes half-closed in drunken confidence. That was when her hand connected sharply with his cheek.

    His eyes widened, but that ridiculous smile stayed, as if he was too far gone to fully register the slap. Hannah grabbed his collar, pulling him close, her eyes burning into his. ¡°Listen to me, you idiot. That witch has your seed. Do you understand what that means? She can control you¡ªmanipulate you.¡±

    Jace rolled his eyes, the alcohol numbing any real sense of alarm. ¡°That¡¯s if you actually believe all this magic crap.¡±

    Hannah¡¯s eyes flared with anger. ¡°Jace, we¡¯re in the middle of a dangerous game, and you might have made a terrible mistake. I see her, always hanging around with her little circle of witches, and because she has you wrapped around her finger, I can¡¯t do a damn thing about it.¡±

    She sighed, her voice softening as she gestured at him. ¡°How do you even know you¡¯re yourself right now?¡±

    Jace¡¯s smile faltered, and he squinted at her. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Hannah¡¯s voice grew more intense, each word sharper than the last. ¡°There are ways they can influence you, Jace. The seed¡­ witches can control men through it. It starts small, little things at first, but how do you know there isn¡¯t something making you pick up that bottle? Or pulling you somewhere you shouldn¡¯t be?¡±

    Jace chuckled bitterly, reaching under his bar to grab another drink. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯ll have to thank the witch for giving me a damn good excuse,¡± he muttered, glancing at his sister as she seethed with frustration.

    ¡°Come on, Sis,¡± he continued, his tone lazy and indifferent. ¡°House Venus isn¡¯t tied up in anything major. We¡¯re still on that plan with Henryk, and you and I both know that nothing¡¯s going to come back on us.¡±

    But as he watched, Hannah¡¯s posture sagged, her exhaustion evident. The fight seemed to drain out of her all at once. ¡°Jace, I don¡¯t know if we should keep doing this.¡±

    Jace eyed her strangely, his expression unreadable.

    Hannah continued, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. "I get it, Jace. Henryk¡­ he tried, but he didn¡¯t succeed. I hate him as much as you do, but I don¡¯t want this blowing back on the house. So please, just drop it."

    For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, Jace rose from his seat and walked toward her. ¡°Jace,¡± she said, lifting her gaze to meet his as he approached. The faint smile still lingered on his face as he pulled her into a deep hug.

    ¡°You¡¯re my darling little sister,¡± he murmured into her ear, and she giggled softly, resting her head beneath his chin.

    But then, Jace¡¯s hand slid gently toward her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his eyes. His smile remained, familiar and warm, just like the countless times before. He leaned in, drawing her closer, and pressed his lips against hers.

    When they separated, both were smiling. ¡°I¡­I¡¯m the only one allowed to touch you,¡± Jace whispered, his tone possessive, almost tender.

    But as those words left his lips, both of them stiffened. A sharp sound echoed from behind¡ªa crack, like something breaking. Jace¡¯s smile vanished, and in an instant, the haze of drunkenness lifted as he spun toward the noise, instincts kicking in.

    ¡°What is it, Jace?¡± Hannah asked, her voice laced with sudden alarm.

    ¡°The fucking scaffolding collapsed,¡± Jace muttered, his eyes wide as he peered out the window.

    But then his gaze caught something¡ªa figure moving in the shadows, barely visible but undeniably there.

    Jace¡¯s eyes narrowed, his body tensing with anger. He turned sharply toward his sister. ¡°Hannah, call the guys. Someone¡¯s trying to get inside.¡±

    <u>Kieren</u>

    Kieren saw it all, though he doubted he''d remember it.

    The last thing he truly noticed was the vast cosmos unfurling before him like a magnificent painting. His hands and legs floated helplessly in front of him as time seemed to slow. Memories flickered in his mind like a fading slideshow¡ªhis dad teaching him how to ride a bike, the warmth of his mom¡¯s hugs, his first kiss, the day he was accepted into the academy. And now, here he was.

    Falling backward off a building, heading straight for the ground. He could only hope the impact would kill him outright, sparing him a lifetime of being a cripple.

    The other three squires froze when they heard the unmistakable thud of Kieren¡¯s body hitting the earth, followed by the clattering of wood and metal as the scaffolding crashed down beside him.

    ¡°Kieren¡­¡± Mateo was the first to utter his name. The others immediately abandoned what they were doing.

    ¡°Wait, my ID¡¯s in there!¡± Franklin shouted, panic lacing his words, but then he saw the look on Mateo¡¯s face. His eyes were wide with shock.

    ¡°Oh my God,¡± Mateo whispered, and Franklin¡¯s complaints died on his tongue. He and Wilbur rushed toward Kieren, dread sinking in as they took in the sight.

    Kieren¡¯s left leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. His wrist hung limp, mangled. Blood oozed from his lips and dripped steadily from his nose. ¡°Oh fuck¡­¡± Mateo breathed, horrified.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Franklin asked, voice trembling.

    Wilbur was panting, his eyes darting from the wrecked scaffolding to Kieren''s shattered body. Expulsion was the least of their worries now¡ªHouse Venus would crucify them for this. The consequences¡­ they could be endless.

    ¡°Franklin!¡± Mateo¡¯s voice cut through the panic, snapping Franklin¡¯s attention to him. ¡°Grab him¡­ you¡¯re the biggest of us. We need to move, now!¡±

    Without another word, Franklin nodded, scooping Kieren¡¯s broken form into his arms. Wilbur hurried to help support him, even as more blood trickled from Kieren''s mouth.

    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Wilbur finally managed to ask as they broke through the edge of the forest.

    ¡°Fuck if I know. He must¡¯ve fallen,¡± Franklin muttered, his face pale.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Mateo said, shaking his head. ¡°What matters is getting the hell out of here before they come after us¡ªand getting him to a hospital.¡±

    Wilbur nodded, digging into his pocket for his phone, his hands shaking.

    Mateo frowned. ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound like you¡¯re calling a hospital.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Wilbur replied, his voice tense. ¡°I¡¯m calling Ed and House Mars. They need to know.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Mateo snapped, pointing to Kieren¡¯s limp body between them. ¡°If Kieren doesn¡¯t get help soon, he¡¯s going to die!¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± Wilbur barked back, frustration and fear flashing in his eyes. ¡°But this was Kieren¡¯s idea, and I¡¯m not getting expelled or kicked out of House Mars over this. You want me to self-narc? I¡¯d rather die.¡±

    The phone rang, cutting through the tense air. Mateo bit back whatever retort he had as the call connected.

    A yawn echoed through the speaker, followed by Edward¡¯s groggy voice. ¡°Hello... this is Wilbur, right?¡±

    Wilbur took a deep breath, glancing once more at Kieren''s unconscious form. ¡°President Edward, there¡¯s been a problem.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    There was no hesitation on the other end. ¡°Report.¡±

    <u>Bea</u>

    Bea had been sleeping in the same room she had for as long as she could remember. Even after her father died, the cold wind outside still seeped through the walls, and no amount of blankets could keep it at bay. Or maybe, she thought, there had never been warmth to begin with.

    But that fleeting comfort ended when her phone buzzed beside her. Groggy and disoriented, she fumbled for it, her eyes struggling to adjust to the light.

    ¡°Y-yeah?¡± she answered, her voice hoarse. She squinted at the screen. ¡°Ed?¡± Her eyes flicked to the alarm clock on her nightstand. ¡°It¡¯s four in the morning... what the hell are you doing calling me?¡±

    She listened, her expression growing more serious by the second. ¡°It¡¯s going to cost you, you know that,¡± she said, irritation clear in her tone. She sat up, brushing the sleep from her mind. ¡°And it¡¯ll take me a minute to get everything ready.¡±

    Ed¡¯s voice rattled on the other end, and Bea¡¯s frown deepened, the annoyance slowly draining from her face.

    ¡°How bad is it?¡± she asked, her voice tightening.

    Then her eyes went wide. ¡°His spine!¡± she exclaimed, jumping from her bed.

    Adaline, her sister, was already awake, having been roused by Bea¡¯s shouting. Still in her pajamas, Adaline dashed through the room, draping a blanket around herself like a cape as she hurried down the stairs. They could already hear the sound of a car pulling up outside the shop.

    Bea fished her keys out of her pocket, fumbling in her haste. As soon as the door unlocked, Ed practically barreled through, carrying Kieren in his arms. The rest of the squires followed behind, looking frantic, while Vinnie juggled medical instruments that were spilling from his hands. Something was hooked up to Kieren, a mess of tubes and wires trailing behind.

    ¡°We need to get him on a table, now!¡± Ed shouted, his voice thick with urgency.

    Adaline and Bea¡¯s eyes adjusted to the darkness, but it was Adaline who gasped first, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God," she muttered, her voice barely audible.

    Bea¡¯s eyes widened as well before narrowing in anger. "You idiots should¡¯ve taken him to a hospital!" she shouted.

    Ed, still carrying Kieren, was heading toward the secret compartment in the shop. He threw a sharp glance over his shoulder at Mateo, Franklin, and Wilbur. "No. If they¡¯d gone to a hospital, they¡¯d have been logged, flagged. These idiots¡­" Ed muttered, his frustration palpable as he kept moving. "Just praying no one saw you."

    The three boys remained silent, though Franklin had a bead of sweat running down his temple. Someone had to have noticed¡­

    "Were you wearing your colors?" Ed asked, already knowing the answer. His eyes flicked over their uniforms. "Of course, you lot fucking were."

    Bea shook her head in disbelief as they reached the door. "You went out there in your school uniforms? Are you insane?"

    For a brief moment, there was silence as the elevator took them down to the next level. The doors slid open, revealing the underground workshop.

    Mateo finally broke the silence, his voice tight, tears streaking his face. "We''d get in even more trouble without our uniforms." He glanced down at his red-painted sleeve. "Especially after Mars¡¯ censure."

    Adaline frowned, exchanging a quick look with Bea. "But why¡­? Why would you risk it?" Adaline asked, confusion and frustration coloring her voice.

    Ed interrupted with a sneer, not bothering to let Mateo respond. "Because they were being a pack of idiots," he snapped as they rushed into the workshop.

    Bea immediately began clearing off a worktable, while Vinnie, still focused on Kieren¡¯s condition, remained wordless, making sure the boy was stable. "What kind of medical tech do you have here?" Vinnie finally asked, his voice tight with concern.

    Adaline hurried toward the shelves along the far wall, scanning for supplies. "We¡¯ve got everything," she called back, already pulling down kits. "Dad was always getting beat up, but criminals and pirates ate this stuff up." She grabbed a blue plastic case packed with surgical instruments and tossed it into Vinnie¡¯s waiting hand.

    Vinnie tore open the blue surgical veil and quickly snapped on a pair of gloves. ¡°I need light here!¡± he barked, his voice sharp with urgency as everyone scrambled into action.

    Bea flicked on the overhead lamp, casting a harsh, sterile glow over Kieren¡¯s broken form. ¡°Shit, his arm¡¯s bent all wrong¡­,¡± Franklin started, but he swallowed the rest of his words, his hands clenching into fists.

    Wilbur was the first to approach, his face pale as he surveyed the damage. Kieren¡¯s right arm had a bone jutting through the skin, his left leg was twisted at an impossible angle, but what caught Wilbur¡¯s eye was the matted towel hastily stuffed under Kieren¡¯s elbow. A jagged piece of wood from the scaffolding had punctured his lower abdomen, and blood was pooling, dripping off the edge of the metal table in a steady rhythm.

    ¡°Fuck, he¡¯s losing a lot of blood,¡± Vinnie muttered through gritted teeth. ¡°We need blood packs¡ªnow!¡± He paused, then snapped his fingers. ¡°Wait¡­ Kieren¡¯s O-negative¡­ shit, he¡¯s universal! Anyone here O-negative?¡± he shouted, scanning the room.

    ¡°Adaline!¡± Bea called out, her voice sharp.

    Adaline¡¯s eyes darted through the crowd. ¡°She¡¯s the only match,¡± Vinnie said, exasperation rising in his voice.

    A beat of tense silence followed.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, come on!¡± Vinnie shouted again, turning his head toward Ed. ¡°Ed, we¡¯ve got a kid bleeding out here, man.¡±

    ¡°And Adaline¡¯s the same blood type,¡± Ed shot back, his voice thick with frustration.

    ¡°She¡¯s a sixteen-year-old girl!¡± Vinnie yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. ¡°Kieren¡¯s twenty, nearly twice her size. He needs more blood than she can give!¡±

    ¡°Well, technically seventeen,¡± Adaline interjected with a shrug, her expression oddly calm amidst the chaos. ¡°I¡¯ll be eighteen in a couple of months. But that¡¯s not the real problem.¡± She made a face at Vinnie as he turned back to Kieren, the tension thick in the room.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just the blood,¡± Vinnie agreed, his gaze hardening as he looked back at the group. ¡°Before Kieren passed out in the car, he said¡­¡±

    ¡°He said he couldn¡¯t feel his legs,¡± Wilbur finished in a low, hollow voice. His eyes were distant, haunted. ¡°He was crying for his mom¡­ calling himself a cripple¡­ and¡­¡± His voice cracked, but Mateo¡¯s hand on his shoulder grounded him, offering silent support.

    ¡°He might have been in shock,¡± Ed said, his tone uncertain. He glanced at Vinnie, searching for any sign of reassurance.

    Yet, Vinnie hesitated, his gaze shifting to Adaline and her sister instead of answering Ed directly. ¡°Do you have any medical-grade X-rays or imaging equipment?¡±

    Both Bea and Adaline shook their heads.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Vinnie muttered under his breath. ¡°Ed, I get what you''re saying, but based on what the Squires described, that was one hell of a fall. Protocol would dictate we check everything¡ªhow the hell am I supposed to even realign his bones properly without knowing the full extent of the damage?¡±

    ¡°Do the best you can with what we¡¯ve got,¡± Ed ordered simply, his tone unwavering.

    Vinnie shot him a hard look, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, with the lack of proper medical tools, I¡¯m not qualified to treat Kieren in this condition.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. ¡°We need to get him to a hospital. Punishment or not.¡±

    For a beat, the room fell silent. The truth settled heavily, and everyone seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation. But it was Ed whose eyes blazed with fury, cutting through the silence like a blade.

    He stormed over to Vinnie, jabbing a finger into his chest. ¡°I¡¯m the acting president of House Mars. Kieren and the rest have jeopardized our house. You will do what you can, and they will not know about this.¡±

    Vinnie¡¯s eyes widened, incredulous. ¡°Are you seriously pulling this shit right now?¡± he challenged. ¡°I already told you¡ªI¡¯m doing my best, but Adaline can only sustain him for so long. The long-term damage¡ª¡±

    ¡°Long-term damage?¡± Ed cut in, his voice a low growl. His eyes narrowed dangerously. ¡°You don¡¯t know the first thing about long-term damage.¡±

    Bea¡¯s face twisted in disgust. ¡°This is absolutely disgusting. Isn¡¯t this one of your own?¡± she snapped, stepping forward. ¡°You¡¯re putting your reputation at the Academy ahead of his life?¡±

    ¡°Shut up and stay out of this, Bea,¡± Ed retorted curtly, barely sparing her a glance.

    Her eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°The fuck? Who the hell do you think you are¡ª?¡±

    But Ed was already dismissing her, his focus still locked on Vinnie. ¡°So, you¡¯re worried about his spine. That¡¯s it, right?¡± Ed asked, extending his arms as he glanced around at the squires.

    Vinnie nodded slowly, clearly torn. ¡°Y-yeah,¡± he stammered.

    ¡°Okay, then.¡± Ed paused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small vial. All eyes turned to the strange, opaque container, but Vinnie¡¯s eyes widened in recognition.

    ¡°You took it from the gene banks?¡± Vinnie asked, his voice rising. ¡°From the freaking medical bay? I had a password on that system for a reason!¡± He shouted, eyes wide with disbelief.

    Ed grinned cheekily. ¡°I¡¯m the House President. I have overrides,¡± he replied, holding up the vial between them, the opaque liquid swirling inside. ¡°The spikes are fresh, and they¡¯ll accept a strong host like Kieren.¡±

    ¡°A strong host?¡± Mateo muttered, his gaze shifting uneasily around the room. Franklin and Wilbur stared in stunned silence, not knowing what to make of what they were witnessing.

    This was their first time seeing something like this, the first time they had truly come face-to-face with Martian power. Kieren, broken and battered, had somehow gotten the attention he¡¯d always craved.

    Bea snorted, drawing all eyes to her. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± she muttered. ¡°You¡¯re really going to put those spikes in him, while he¡¯s unconscious?¡± she asked incredulously.

    Ed waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Isn¡¯t this what Kieren wanted?¡± he said, directing his question toward Vinnie and completely ignoring Bea¡¯s outrage. ¡°He¡¯d be ecstatic to wake up with the spikes. Arthur¡¯s line has quick healers. This is exactly what he needs,¡± he added, gripping the vial tighter.

    Vinnie¡¯s voice was the only one cutting through the tension. ¡°He won¡¯t be human anymore,¡± he said, staring grimly at the vial in Ed¡¯s hand. ¡°Once you cross into divinity, there¡¯s no coming back, Edward. Not even for something this small.¡±

    Ed¡¯s expression remained unphased. ¡°He¡¯s leading Executor. Back in ancient times, this was tradition.¡±

    Vinnie frowned. ¡°I know what Kieren and Henryk are like. I get that Kieren¡¯s rowdy¡ªthis just proves it.¡± He paused, glancing toward Kieren¡¯s motionless body. ¡°You¡¯re right, Edward, this could save his life¡ªif all goes well. But Kieren isn¡¯t ready for this. We should put it to a vote.¡±

    ¡°A vote, now?¡± Franklin interjected angrily from the corner, pointing at Kieren¡¯s prone figure. ¡°He¡¯s dying over there, and you want to waste time on a vote?¡±

    Vinnie raised a hand, trying to calm Franklin. ¡°Relax, Frank. The spikes aren¡¯t just some casual decision. With them, Kieren won¡¯t tire like a normal person. He¡¯ll move faster, be stronger¡ªa true Knight of Mars in training.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. ¡°But this isn¡¯t something we can just do without the proper tools and space.¡±

    ¡°Tools or space?¡± Ed scoffed. ¡°Vinnie, they¡¯ve been doing these procedures in termite-ridden castles for centuries.¡±

    "...and a lot of people died due to the lack of basic medical knowledge," Vinnie cut in sharply. "Even if we put the spikes in him, like I said, there are only two true Sons of Mars here. We''ve always made these decisions together. The others will be furious that we acted without them."

    "It will save his life and buy time for the house," Ed countered. "I know it''s short-sighted, but we can''t take him to a hospital. God forbid someone caught sight of the car or saw us running. Who knows what kind of trouble we''d be in."

    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand why you guys won¡¯t take him to a hospital!¡± Adaline¡¯s voice cracked, her words trembling with fear. ¡°He¡¯s right! Kieren is dying, and you¡¯re just standing here arguing¡ª"

    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple,¡± Ed interjected, his voice taking on a hard edge. ¡°The Academy is... different from a lot of schools in this sector. Hell, the whole universe.¡±

    Bea sneered. ¡°No shit. We¡¯ve been hearing all about what you guys do on the internet.¡±

    Ed sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°The Academy, I don¡¯t know the full story behind it, but the culture¡ªit¡¯s always been twisted in a strange way. On the surface, it¡¯s like any other school. There are classes, dorms. But then you¡¯ve got the Guild''s heavy presence and the missions¡­¡± He paused to collect his thoughts, turning to face Bea, her crimson skin catching the dim light. ¡°The Kingdom of Mars always clashed with the Royals of Venus. Small conflicts that the emperor used to put down. But even at the Academy, it¡¯s never just normal school life¡ªthere are pranks, fights, parties, drugs, alcohol... and then there''s this."

    He gestured toward Kieren''s broken form. "Right now, there¡¯s a delicate peace at the Academy. Everyone¡¯s focused on bigger threats, but one wrong move, and who knows what the other Houses will do.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re making it sound like they¡¯d hunt us down,¡± Wilbur said nervously from the corner, but Ed¡¯s expression told him everything.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Mateo asked.

    Ed met their questioning eyes. ¡°Exactly what I¡¯m saying. We¡¯re all technically first-years here. Have any of you ever heard of a House Execution?¡±

    A wave of shaking heads answered him.

    "Well, a couple of years ago, House Mercury pissed off two rival Houses. They showed up and wiped them out¡ªten to one.¡±

    The room fell silent. For a moment, the weight of Ed¡¯s words hung in the air¡ªuntil Bea suddenly burst into laughter. The others turned to her, bewildered.

    ¡°You think this is funny?¡± Ed asked, his voice deadly serious. Bea¡¯s laughter died on her lips as the gravity of the situation hit her.

    ¡°Do you really expect me and my sister to believe that your school has cleanses where everyone dies?¡± Bea asked, her voice sharp with disbelief.

    Ed shrugged, his expression neutral. ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± he said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to believe me, but I¡¯ve read the records, talked to people about the history of this place. House Mercury was only saved because of the years that followed.¡±

    ¡°Did anyone survive?¡± Adaline asked quietly.

    ¡°Adaline¡­¡± Bea tried to hush her, but Ed answered.

    ¡°One. Zephyr, the current president. From what I heard, he was the only survivor. Saw the whole thing go down.¡± He paused. ¡°The same thing happened to House Mars before that.¡±

    The room fell silent as everyone¡¯s eyes widened. Ed raised an eyebrow. ¡°Come on, you lot can¡¯t all be surprised. Mars was destroyed. Our territories were picked apart¡ªstill are. I¡¯ve read the final message from the last president. Every one of them.¡±

    ¡°All of what?¡± Bea asked, her tone hardening.

    Ed snorted, then continued. ¡°Every single House¡ªfrom Earth to Saturn. Some of them are probably seniors now.¡± He chuckled darkly. ¡°They all came at once. And wiped us out.¡±

    The weight of his words pressed down on the room. Wilbur, pale and queasy, sank into a chair. ¡°T-they just killed them all¡­¡±

    Franklin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

    Ed sighed deeply. ¡°Now do you understand why we can¡¯t get caught?¡± His voice rose, cutting through the silence as his eyes flicked to each person in the room. ¡°The hospital is connected to the Academy. They¡¯ll ask questions. And House Venus is definitely not going to be happy about how you trashed their place¡­¡±

    ¡°You trashed their place?¡± Vinnie interrupted, incredulous.

    Franklin shrugged, trying to look indifferent. ¡°We drew a massive penis on their wall.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Ed¡¯s face twisted in disbelief as he slapped both hands over his face.

    Mateo let out a heavy sigh. ¡°We also, uh... egged the hell out of the place, and... I¡¯m not sure, but I think Wilbur threw a brick?¡±

    ¡°A f-fucking brick?!¡± Vinnie exploded, his voice echoing through the room.

    Wilbur shrugged, raising his hands as if to admit defeat. "We used everything we had¡ª toilet paper, eggs, spray paint¡ªand Kieren got involved because he wanted to mess with the president¡¯s room."

    ¡°Fuck... looks like you guys are screwed,¡± Bea muttered offhandedly, though her expression shifted when she saw everyone¡¯s faces turn green at the thought.

    Ed continued, his voice tense. ¡°Venus will come at us full force if they find out. They had problems with Henryk, but the girl let it go, and her brother seemed to have moved on too... until now. This is going to reignite a fire we don¡¯t need.¡± He paused, catching his breath.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just that,¡± Ed went on. ¡°Think about the missions, Vinnie. Henryk ran into House Pluto because of the contact.¡±

    Bea¡¯s face twisted in shock. ¡°What? The contact was tied to House Pluto?¡±

    Ed sneered. ¡°That guild guy? Yeah, he played both sides. If Henryk had crossed paths with House Neptune instead, he wouldn¡¯t have made it out¡­¡±

    ¡°What would they have done to him?¡± Adaline asked, her voice quiet but tense.

    ¡°Fucking lynch him,¡± Vinnie replied, almost too casually, letting his arms fall to his sides.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯re right... we don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡± Vinnie glanced at Kieren¡¯s mangled body and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll authorize it, but we need a place to keep him for two to three days, max. No more than that, Ed. Remember that.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Ed muttered, turning to the sisters. ¡°Do you have a place to keep him?¡±

    ¡°Dad had a small cell for guys who needed to be held for a while,¡± Adaline said.

    ¡°Down here?¡± Wilbur asked, his eyes scanning the room. He gestured toward the high-tech weapons and lab equipment cluttering the space. ¡°Is that... plasma tech? You¡¯ve got stub-makers down here?¡±

    Bea, still hugging herself tightly, shrugged. ¡°The cops usually don¡¯t believe anyone who¡¯s being hunted by the last of a genetically enhanced race.¡±

    Wilbur slapped his forehead in disbelief.

    Vinnie turned sharply to Bea. ¡°That mission secured us funds. I¡¯ll be doing routine inspections of Kieren here to make sure there are no issues with his spikes.¡±

    ¡°What do we have to look out for?¡± Adaline asked, her eyes drifting toward her sister. ¡°Why didn¡¯t Dad teach us about this?¡±

    Bea rolled her eyes. ¡°Because we¡¯re girls.¡±

    Vinnie sneered at that. ¡°I don¡¯t care what your dad says. Fuck the Knights of Mars and their crazy medieval mumbo jumbo,¡± he exclaimed. Bea smiled, amused.

    She glanced over at Ed. ¡°I like this one,¡± she said.

    Vinnie sighed. ¡°Two to three days, max. I¡¯m going to need to swing by the manor to pick up more Martian medical gear,¡± he added.

    Ed shrugged. ¡°Bea and Adaline are daughters of a Knight of Mars. He probably has medical instruments lying around.¡±

    Vinnie snapped his fingers, his gaze shifting to the sisters. ¡°You¡¯ve got a cell, and for the next couple of days, you two will need to pay close attention to the instruments. I hate missing class, and my professors will be pissed¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll write to them and get you an exemption,¡± Ed said dismissively.

    Vinnie gave a thumbs-up. ¡°He¡¯s stable, at least for now,¡± he said before turning back to the sisters. ¡°But these instruments are going to check for mutation. The first day is going to be the hardest since we didn¡¯t have time to prep. If one of his body functions starts to fail, we need to know immediately.¡±

    ¡°Mutation?¡± Adaline asked, eyes wide.

    Vinnie nodded. ¡°Arthur grew his spikes naturally because no one cut them, which is good for us. Now we¡¯ve got four to spare. But I didn¡¯t have time to check for mutations.¡±

    ¡°Wait... are you saying he could mutate?¡± Mateo asked, his voice edged with fear.

    Vinnie¡¯s expression darkened as he nodded slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility.¡±

    ¡°Like Ty?¡± Mateo¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°He could turn into a freak?¡±

    ¡°This is exactly how Ty became a mutant,¡± Vinnie admitted, though he sighed heavily afterward.

    Bea¡¯s voice cut in, sharp and to the point. ¡°It¡¯s going to cost you.¡±

    ¡°Like Vinnie said, we¡¯re good for it,¡± Ed replied curtly, though Bea could tell her attitude was finally starting to get under his skin. That alone made her smile.

 Chapter 6 - Henryks Reprieve - Book 2

    Chapter 6 - Henryk''s Reprieve

    <hr>

    <u>Henryk</u>

    ¡°Chilling out of school is pretty chill all right,¡± Marcus said, his hand gesturing toward Academy City. The lights blazed brightly, illuminating the streets even late into the night. Cars swerved along the roads, weaving between pedestrians¡ªsome homeless, others with strange, otherworldly features. A few were dressed in ragged clothes, while others wore black suits and gowns, gold cuffs gleaming on their wrists.

    Henryk had left behind his academy uniform, now dressed in worn worker pants, a matted white shirt, and deep brown boots. He walked beside Marcus, whose eyes gleamed with excitement, a joint tucked between his lips.

    ¡°Ah, where are my manners,¡± Marcus said, removing the joint and offering it to Henryk.

    Henryk eyed it, his curiosity evident, but after a moment, he shook his head. ¡°I heard that stuff gives you a crazy head rush.¡±

    Marcus laughed, his voice heavy and relaxed. ¡°This ain¡¯t no head rush, man. More like a chill, mellow crash,¡± he said, bobbing his head to some unspoken rhythm. ¡°But hey, no pressure. Where you from, Henryk?¡±

    Henryk hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Just some run-down frontier world,¡± he muttered, his gaze drifting to the city lights, a small smile tugging at his lips. ¡°But this... this place has a whole different feel to it.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± Marcus agreed, raising his arms as if to embrace the sprawling cityscape. ¡°I come from a pretty advanced mid-world myself. We¡¯re laid-back, but the academy? Man, it can really take your breath away sometimes.¡±

    As they walked, Henryk found himself lagging behind, his steps slowing.

    Marcus noticed, turning back with the joint still lit between his lips. ¡°What¡¯s got you dragging back there?¡± he asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

    Henryk paused, clenching his fists before speaking. ¡°Marcus, why are we out here tonight, without our colors?¡±

    Marcus exhaled, a deep sigh escaping his lips. ¡°There are rules in Academy City that don¡¯t apply at the academy,¡± he said, glancing around.

    ¡°I know that. I¡¯ve got a job at the pizza place around here,¡± Henryk replied, his voice trailing off. ¡°But...¡±

    Marcus chuckled heavily, as Henryk took a cautious step backward, only for Marcus to close the distance with a step forward. "Nice to have a friend with money. Lucas¡­ he was always bugging me for free weed, and I kept running the biggest tab with that guy," Marcus said, his voice tinged with a lingering frustration.

    Henryk paused, his fingers flexing unconsciously. For a brief moment, he caught something¡ªan undercurrent, a tremor in Marcus''s voice, a glimmer of the pain he was desperately trying to drown out.

    Marcus''s breath deepened as thoughts of Lucas surfaced¡ªthe affidavit, the guilt of what might have happened to him. What could have happened to all of them. The academy had that effect, haunting every student with the same question that now echoed in Henryk¡¯s mind: was it worth it? The death, the pain, the loss¡ª all to mold warriors and heroes for an Emperor that remained distant, almost ethereal. A eunuch Emperor who let aliens threaten their worlds and pirates run rampant.

    Henryk¡¯s thoughts drifted to his family¡ªhis mom, dad, and older brother. What was he doing here?

    Yet, as Henryk¡¯s hand settled on Marcus¡¯s shoulder, all of it¡ª the doubts, the anxiety¡ª seemed to recede.

    "Where to?" Henryk asked, trying on a tentative smile.

    The question seemed to lift some of the weight off Marcus¡¯s chest, bringing a bit of light back into the night. Maybe one day they¡¯d talk about Lucas, but not tonight. Right now, Marcus needed someone who understood, someone who could sympathize.

    "Lucas was a real good guy," Henryk said, patting Marcus on the shoulder. Marcus¡¯s eyes widened at the unexpected support. "You guys¡ª you were the reason I got through that duel with Piper. Aside from what happened to her, you were top-notch handlers."

    Marcus nodded, the high returning as the crisp city air chilled his skin. The fire relit, and Henryk¡¯s smile helped ease the weight of the past.

    "You''re different from the other academy folks," Marcus hummed, almost to himself. "I like that. It''s good."

    "What¡¯s that supposed to mean?" Henryk asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "It means you''re actually fucking chill for once," Marcus replied, laughing out loud.

    Henryk smirked, but his thoughts began to drift to the past. ¡°Marcus,¡± he started, his tone more serious, ¡°when you came back a while ago, you said you had to thank me and House Mars for something. What was that about? I was confused back then.¡±

    Before Marcus could respond, he raised his arms and hollered, ¡°Ah, we¡¯re here!¡±

    Henryk wasn¡¯t sure if Marcus had chosen to ignore the question or if the drugs were making him lose track, but he let it slide.

    They stepped into a secluded enclave off the road. It was a park, though on a much grander scale than Henryk had ever imagined. The long lawns of freshly cropped grass shimmered under the sprinklers, misting the multi-colored cobblestone paths beneath their feet. The quiet hum of the city faded into the background, leaving only the soft patter of water and the occasional breeze in the air.

    Henryk felt his lips inch into a smile at the vibrant, water-speckled colors of the park.

    "Ah, better than some shit colony world," Marcus mumbled.

    "Hey, don''t diss my world," Henryk said, running up to his side.

    "Sorry," Marcus raised his hand in mock apology. "If you want, you can shit on mine. We''ll call it even."

    "Nah, man. I ain''t like that," Henryk said, waving it off.

    Marcus cocked his head, his smile stretching wider and wider. "Hey, you don''t got any problems rocking with people from other houses, right?"

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

    "I¡¯ve got a buddy of mine and his girl. They transferred from Mercury to House Neptune. Only off school grounds can we hang out like this. I know that sounds bad, but he''s chill. Had my back in more than a few bar brawls. Emily and Riya? They¡¯re from Earth. All native."

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened further. "They were all born on-world?"

    Marcus chuckled. "Yeah. If you''re born on Earth, you get special privilege to join the house. Zephyr kicked out a bunch of people last time a new batch came through."

    Henryk''s eyebrows shot up. "House Mercury just kicks out their guys when truebloods show up?"

    "Other houses do similar things. House Mars? A lot of your guys were born on-world. They¡¯ve never accepted outsiders," Marcus explained.

    Henryk frowned, the smile fading from his face as they continued walking. "Edward wouldn¡¯t do anything like that."

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened in surprise at Henryk''s comment, and Henryk immediately felt a pang of guilt. He knew Zephyr had been slimy for betraying their deal, but Marcus having to work under that and see it firsthand¡ªHenryk couldn''t blame him for being bitter.

    "Sorry. We good?" Henryk said, raising his fist.

    Marcus¡¯s eyes softened, and he smiled again. "We good." He bumped Henryk¡¯s fist with his own.

    As they pushed through the brush, Henryk spotted a group of three youths deep in conversation. Two girls... and a boy. His eyes narrowed.

    "Simon," Henryk muttered, his tone darkening as the dark-haired youth raised his blue eyes through a curtain of black curls. They locked eyes, Simon¡¯s piercing gaze framed by his glasses, and Henryk could already feel his fist tighten involuntarily.

    <u>Henryk II</u>

    They were walking out of the park, Simon with his girlfriend, Emily, clinging tightly to his hand. She was small and timid, almost squirrel-like, with glasses perched on her delicate features.

    Henryk lagged behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets, bobbing his head to the music booming through the cityscape. They had ventured further uptown, where the high-rise buildings stood tall, passing theaters and shops that were alive with the nightlife. The vibrant energy of the place clashed with the dark thoughts festering in his mind.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    His eyes were locked on the back of Simon¡¯s head, glaring daggers. Simon was a skinny son of a bitch, maybe that¡¯s why Henryk had managed to escape their last encounter without getting his skull cracked. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding against each other as his gaze flicked from Marcus, to Simon¡¯s girlfriend, to the other girl with them. But always, his focus drifted back to Simon. He took in Simon¡¯s polished slacks, dress shoes, the jewelry glinting at his throat¡ªhe looked like a threat, one Henryk wouldn¡¯t hesitate to strangle if necessary.

    His mind raced, buzzing with thoughts of Oceana II, the lessons he had learned in the grim sewers of that forsaken world. Marcus walked beside Simon, laughing like they were old friends. Was this all just a setup? A ploy to humiliate him, to kick his ass while the girls laughed? His thoughts grew darker, fingers flexing in his pockets. He could end this here and now.

    Simon first? Or Marcus? Marcus was stronger, so the element of surprise would help there. But breaking Simon, snapping him like a twig in front of them all¡ªnow that would send a message. And swiftly taking down Marcus afterward¡­ Arthur would¡¯ve praised that kind of thinking.

    Just then, a car rolled by, music blaring¡ªa heavy, throbbing bass with an Afrobeat rhythm that pulled Henryk out of his spiral. He turned his head, catching a glimpse of the street.

    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s your name?¡± a voice asked beside him.

    Henryk blinked, distracted, as the girl walking next to him raised a hand, stopping Marcus mid-sentence.

    ¡°Marcus, I wasn¡¯t talking to you.¡± She turned her attention to Henryk with a soft smile on her face. Warm brown eyes set against smooth, chocolate skin. Her straight hair was tied into two thick pigtails that draped over her chest. She held a beer bottle, casually motioning toward Henryk.

    ¡°Henryk,¡± he said, his voice steady.

    Her eyes widened with recognition, the same look he¡¯d seen countless times at the academy. But she smiled, then chuckled. ¡°So, you¡¯re the one causing all that trouble during the first few days,¡± she teased.

    Marcus sighed, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°Iman, come on, don¡¯t tease him like that. I doubt he¡¯s in the mood to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I bet,¡± she replied with a grin. ¡°Say what you will, but I was assigned to Piper¡¯s unit. You really wrecked things up in Oceana. It was¡­ heroic, watching you guys out there. Inspiring, even.¡±

    ¡°O-oh,¡± Henryk stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to hide the blush creeping up his face. ¡°It¡¯s, uh¡­ cool.¡±

    Iman giggled at his awkwardness, and Henryk found himself smiling despite the tension in his chest. Maybe this wasn¡¯t so bad after all. Still, his gaze drifted warily toward Simon and his girlfriend, Emily. He¡¯d need to keep an eye on them.

    ¡°Marcus,¡± Simon finally spoke, breaking his silence as they walked. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±

    Henryk looked ahead, his eyes widening. The building was old, worn, and had a cryptic, almost haunting presence. People were crowding around the entrance, either trying to get in or being unceremoniously kicked out. The smell of herb and alcohol wafted through the air as they passed the bustling crowd.

    ¡°Man, when was the last time you came here, Marcus?¡± Simon asked.

    Marcus raised an eyebrow. ¡°Probably the week before that last mission¡­¡±

    ¡°You bringing your DJ gear?¡± asked Emma, Simon¡¯s girlfriend, her curly brown hair bouncing with every step.

    Marcus cocked his head toward Henryk. ¡°He¡¯s the music guy.¡±

    ¡°Music boy,¡± Simon chuckled, the comment casual but condescending.

    His girlfriend joined in with a soft laugh, and Iman was still smiling. But Henryk¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°Production major, actually,¡± he corrected, his tone clipped.

    ¡°You done any parties?¡± Simon asked, his voice light but probing.

    Henryk smirked. ¡°DJ¡¯d for a couple of my sister¡¯s birthday parties,¡± he replied, crossing his arms as his smirk grew wider. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just itching to get in there,¡± he added, his eyes flicking toward the club. ¡°So, this is where you all come to party, huh?¡±

    Iman¡¯s eyes widened, her voice dropping to a soft, aimless mumble. ¡°Such... annoyance,¡± she muttered dejectedly, almost to herself, the words trailing off into the crowd.

    Simon pulled his girlfriend, Emily, closer by the shoulder, casting a wary glance at Henryk. ¡°Marcus... this place has actual cred. I don¡¯t want to get booted out because Henryk¡¯s going to be a drag.¡±

    Marcus waved it off. ¡°Relax. He¡¯s got the skills. Say what you will about music as a profession, but the academy¡¯s got the best of the best.¡±

    As they neared the entrance, Marcus leaned in closer to Simon. ¡°What¡¯s your deal, Simon? Henryk¡¯s chill. I know he¡¯s from House Mars, but he¡¯s an offworlder. There shouldn¡¯t be any problems, right?¡±

    Simon¡¯s mind raced. If Marcus found out the truth... if Emma found out. He had kept his distance, stayed quiet, but how could they ever understand? How could Piper understand?

    ¡°No problem,¡± Simon answered quickly, keeping his tone analytical, detached. ¡°I just... I just miss Lucas.¡±

    Marcus seemed satisfied, his thoughts already elsewhere as they stepped into the club¡¯s dimly lit interior. The scent of alcohol and weed hit them like a wall, mingling with the heavy heat of the crowded room. Neon lights flickered in rhythmic flashes, and bodies swayed to the pulse of the music.

    At first, Henryk felt a wave of anxiety creeping in, being so far outside his usual space. But he was out of his academy colors¡ªanonymous in the throng. And when that smooth, jazzy funk started to play, he couldn¡¯t help himself. His body reacted, head bobbing to the beat, arms moving in sync.

    ¡°Oh damn, you¡¯ve got moves,¡± Iman whispered, eyes gleaming with surprise. Henryk grinned, throwing his head back as he two-stepped, quick and precise, following the beat with practiced ease. Iman laughed, joining him as they weaved through the crowd, letting the music absorb them.

    Even Simon, for a moment, seemed to forget his concerns, grabbing Emily¡¯s hand and leading her into the dance. Marcus watched them all, relief softening his features, but his hand slid into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He frowned at the screen¡ª17 unread messages from Margaret, seven missed calls¡ªbut quickly shoved it back, forcing a smile as he bobbed his head to the music.

    ¡°When¡¯s your set?¡± Henryk asked, breaking away from Iman, though her warm brown eyes lingered on him, her movements never faltering as she kept dancing. It was almost as if she could see something special in him, something the stars themselves might admire.

    ¡°Your set?¡± Marcus chuckled, pointing at Henryk. ¡°Nah, man, our set. Like Simon said, Lucas was our DJ.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait, you were serious about that?¡± He stopped dancing, the carefree energy draining from his movements.

    Marcus tried to laugh it off, but Henryk wasn¡¯t letting it slide. ¡°Marcus, the only DJ experience I¡¯ve got is spinning tracks at little girls¡¯ princess parties, man,¡± he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me this was the reason you wanted me here? You planned this the whole time, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Marcus sighed, his grin fading. ¡°Nah, man, honestly... I haven¡¯t been in the right headspace lately. But you¡¯re right, I should¡¯ve told you. I just... I wanted to chill tonight, and back when me and Lucas helped you out in that duel, we both thought you were really cool.¡±

    <u>Henryk III</u>

    The stage wasn¡¯t raised on a deck but set flat on the floor, with people packed tightly around the DJ setup. Marcus clutched the microphone, the crowd still buzzing with drunken energy. Surrounding him were Iman, Simon, Emma, and Henryk, though Henryk hadn¡¯t yet taken his place at the DJ set. They faced the possibility of either picking someone random from the crowd or suffering the embarrassment of a failed set. Marcus, a joint tucked between his fingers, looked ready to freestyle through it.

    ¡°Yo, it¡¯s that boy, MARCUS!¡± the announcer hollered, and the crowd exploded with excitement. Marcus grinned wide, basking in the cheers. Iman screamed next to him, her voice high-pitched and full of enthusiasm.

    ¡°Oh my god, Marcus, you¡¯re so awesome!¡± she shouted, and the crowd echoed her, the room vibrating with energy.

    Marcus, a little unsteady, coughed into the mic, momentarily silencing the crowd. ¡°Yeah, y-yeah...,¡± he stammered, trying to regain his rhythm. ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah...,¡± he muttered as a slow beat began to pulse from the speakers.

    ¡°Oh god, he¡¯s gonna bomb,¡± Simon muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

    Iman''s eyes flicked toward Henryk, as if silently urging him to do something. Henryk stared at the eager crowd, then back at Marcus¡ªguilt and tension radiating from him. He couldn¡¯t let Marcus, a guy this chill, get embarrassed in front of everyone. This was the most fun he¡¯d had since arriving at the academy. It felt like a real, normal party, a break from all the intensity.

    Making a decision, Henryk pushed his way toward the DJ set. Iman¡¯s eyes lit up, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she followed him. The music began to shift as Henryk¡¯s hands found the pads and disks of the equipment, twisting the sound into something more atmospheric, the beat taking a deeper, richer tone. Marcus¡¯s eyes widened, his earlier tension melting away as he caught Henryk¡¯s smile.

    ¡°Just need to get the volume and vibe right,¡± Henryk said, turning toward Iman, though he caught Marcus¡¯s appreciative smirk.

    ¡°Man¡­ fuck this,¡± Henryk muttered, pulling out his phone. He eyed the white wire attached to the console and connected his phone to it, maneuvering through his files.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Iman asked, curious.

    ¡°Playing some of my stuff,¡± Henryk said with a cocky grin as he took control of the setup.

    ¡°Marcus, give me thirty seconds!¡± Henryk shouted as the music started loading. He adjusted the volume, testing the buttons. ¡°Okay, okay, this is just like Jennie¡¯s rig during her tenth birthday,¡± he mused.

    The beat kicked in¡ªheavy, yet uplifting, with spacey, atmospheric elements. It immediately transfixed the drugged-out crowd, and when the beat dropped, everyone¡¯s heart seemed to skip a beat.

    ¡°Whoa¡­ shit,¡± Marcus laughed aloud. ¡°This is fucking great!¡±

    Henryk started bobbing his head, getting a feel for how the machine and music flowed together. The crowd was feeling it too, and Marcus began rapping, syncing perfectly with the beat.

    Iman¡¯s eyes gleamed, her gaze locked on Henryk¡¯s face as he smiled, turning toward her. ¡°You¡¯re gonna like the next one.¡±

    ¡°Oh really?¡± Iman chuckled, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear.

    The rap concluded, leaving everyone breathless, but the next beat hit¡ªfaster, more intense. The vocals soared with it. ¡°Yo Henryk, turn that shit up!¡± someone from the crowd shouted, and Henryk obliged. The dance floor lit up again.

    Henryk, sweat beading on his forehead, manned the controls while Iman danced. Her voice¡ªit was beautiful. But Henryk was smiling, lost in the moment, drunk on the energy. He stepped away from the console, the music still booming, and began to dance, raising his hands up and down. Iman matched his moves, laughing as they danced together, her movements fluid and confident.

    ¡°Oh, I bet you¡¯re a real square,¡± Henryk teased, circling her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t do anything special like this, music boy,¡± she replied with a playful smirk. ¡°But I can see why Piper¡¯s so fixated on you.¡±

    She moved closer, pressing her body against him, her rear brushing against his crotch as she grinded on him. The stars he¡¯d seen earlier reflected in her eyes, and Henryk¡¯s hands instinctively went to her waist, the beat of the music pulsing through them both.

    ¡°Am I still a square?¡± she whispered, a dangerous gleam in her eyes as she looked up at him, her caramel fingertips grazing his chin.

    She twerked against him, and Henryk grinned ear to ear, feeling giddy. Across the room, Marcus danced with a girl, but he spared a glance toward them, his eyes widening when he saw Iman throwing it back on Henryk. Marcus laughed, then turned to see Simon and his girlfriend dancing passionately.

    Henryk slipped his hand into Iman¡¯s, leading her onto the dance floor. She let go of him, giving him space, and Henryk began to dance. The crowd parted for him as his rhythm spoke for itself. He was on fire, alive in the moment, and everything else¡ªthe academy, the stress, the bad memories¡ªfaded away.

    The girl, the party, the friends¡­ Wasn¡¯t this what school was supposed to be about? For the first time in a long while, he felt like he truly belonged, far from home but finally at peace.

 Chapter 7 - Terrifying Human Transformation - Book 2

    Chapter 7 - Terrifying Human Transformation

    <hr>

    <u>Henryk</u>

    ¡°The fuck have you been?¡± Ed questioned, lifting his head off the counter at Bea and Adaline¡¯s store. His eyes were barely open, heavy with sleep, and his academy jacket hung loose over his shoulders. His backpack slumped beside him.

    ¡°I went out. Didn¡¯t feel like going to class today,¡± Henryk replied, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand before stuffing both hands into his hoodie pockets. ¡°I got your texts and calls after everything was over and raced over here...¡±

    Ed gave him a scrutinizing look, eyes narrowing. ¡°Your eyes are bloodshot, and you reek of alcohol,¡± he chuckled. ¡°No way¡ªyou actually went out? Thought you were too straight-laced for that.¡±

    Henryk chuckled, shrugging. ¡°Last night was pretty wild.¡±

    ¡°They go to school here?¡± Ed asked.

    Henryk hesitated, which drew a sigh from Ed as he looked around the nearly empty store. ¡°Listen, Henryk, other houses may have rules about mixing with other members, but in House Mars, all I ask is you keep up with the training. Do that and keep your grades up, and I don¡¯t care what else you do.¡±

    Henryk rolled his eyes. ¡°Seems like school doesn¡¯t mean much here,¡± he muttered.

    Ed raised an eyebrow but then sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve got certain liberties because we¡¯re trained and sent on missions. Some of these missions are vital. You saw how important that was in Oceana...¡±

    Henryk let out a dark chuckle that made Ed¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Importance? It was life or death. Act or die. There were kids out there, Ed¡ªkids the age of Jennie and Diana. I¡­,¡± he hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. ¡°I couldn¡¯t save them all... I couldn¡¯t...¡±

    A heavy silence fell between them, and Ed¡¯s gaze softened as he remembered something crucial: Henryk wasn¡¯t like the rest of them. He wasn¡¯t raised for this life. He came from a semi-colonized world and had only joined to make a name for himself, to bring some kind of improvement to his people back home.

    Henryk was just a regular kid once, going to a normal high school, riding his bike, celebrating Christmases. He¡¯d seen hardship on his home world, sure, but nothing like what some of the Sons of Mars had endured.

    Joseph''s nomadic tribal life, Isaac''s MilWorld training, Vinnie''s rigorous academic background, and Axel and Arthur¡¯s feudal pride¡ªall of them had their unique worlds to ground them. Axel, despite his Venusian privileges, had been raised in a feudal setting without electricity, trained as a warrior by his uncles. The closest to Henryk was Fleeboy, but even he had distinct differences, like the spikes¡ªa small but significant divide.

    ¡°Henryk, you know if you ever need to talk about anything, I¡¯m here,¡± Ed said.

    Henryk raised his gaze, meeting Ed¡¯s eyes briefly before looking away, a simmering anger directed at the floor. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, but Ed felt a pang of guilt.

    Joseph¡¯s words echoed in his mind¡ªof Ed¡¯s ¡°great sin¡±¡ªand he knew he could only try to protect Henryk, to make up for the disruption he¡¯d caused in his life.

    Ed placed a hand on Henryk¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Tell you what, let¡¯s grab a bite before my next shift tonight.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Huh? You want to hang out?¡±

    With a thumbs up and a grin, Ed replied, ¡°Of course. Don¡¯t forget, you were the first guy I ran into at the academy.¡± He gave Henryk a hearty smack on the back.

    ¡°Ow!¡± Henryk winced. ¡°What was that f¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re alright, Henryk. And remember, we¡¯re here together. It¡¯s rough, I know, and scary too,¡± Ed said, his tone turning serious. ¡°But you give me your loyalty, your dedication, and in exchange, you¡¯ll be part of a reborn Neo Mars. I¡¯ll help you become a king in your own right. Your sisters, your mother¡ªthey¡¯ll be princesses, or whatever you want. The world will be yours.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes lit up, the allure and wonder of those words resonating deeply. He wasn¡¯t naive; he knew the legends, understood the significance of Mars.

    ¡°But we¡¯ve got to keep our heads on straight and get through this,¡± Ed added, his voice firm. ¡°So, let¡¯s grab that meal later. I¡¯ll swing back by here after class when it¡¯s Joseph¡¯s shift.¡±

    Henryk smirked, nodding. ¡°Sounds like a plan.¡±

    Ed yawned, stretching as he turned to leave.

    ¡°You dipping out already?¡± Henryk asked.

    Ed nodded, rubbing his tired eyes. ¡°Hell yeah, I''ve been up for hours¡­ Listen, Kieren made it through the worst of it, but Arthur''s still here, and he¡¯ll show you the ropes until one of us gets back.¡±

    ¡°Bet,¡± Henryk said, nodding.

    Ed''s hand hovered over the door as he paused, glancing back at Henryk. ¡°Stay vigilant, alright?¡± he said. ¡°Arthur will explain, but¡­ what Kieren is now¡ªwhat he¡¯s becoming¡ªthe in-between is¡­ rough.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°W-what are you talking about?¡±

    Ed sighed, giving him a long look. ¡°You¡¯re smart, Henryk. You¡¯ve become someone the others trust. You¡¯ve learned our ways, taken the training seriously, and you¡¯re getting better¡ªboth in skill and in battle.¡±

    Henryk frowned slightly. ¡°Is it wrong to want to succeed?¡±

    Ed chuckled. ¡°No, you¡¯re doing well.¡± He gave Henryk a wave as he stepped outside, the early October breeze ruffling his blond hair.

    Henryk squinted after him, running a hand through his own hair. ¡°Weirdest, most cryptic, honorable guy I know¡­¡± he muttered with an annoyed grin. Then, from his side, he heard the faint sound of an elevator. Turning, his eyes widened as the nearby bookshelf creaked open like a door, revealing Arthur.

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Arthur greeted with a smirk. ¡°Bright morning, isn¡¯t it? What¡¯s got you holed up in a place like this?¡±

    Henryk shrugged. ¡°Ed¡¯s busting my balls, got me missing class¡­ but he wrote me an exemption,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°Honestly, though, screw class. Lately, I can barely drag myself out of bed.¡±

    Arthur hesitated, then let out a loud laugh.

    Henryk chuckled awkwardly, unsure of the joke but reminded that Arthur came from a feudal world where humor had its quirks.

    ¡°Looks like we¡¯re on guard duty today,¡± Arthur remarked.

    ¡°For a few hours,¡± Henryk replied.

    Arthur crossed his arms and gave him a serious look. ¡°Do you know the full extent of what happened?¡±

    Henryk shrugged. ¡°I heard Kieren and the others got into some rough stuff last night, but that¡¯s all I know¡­¡± He hesitated. ¡°Ed mentioned Kieren was hurt, but¡ª¡±

    Arthur plopped down in the chair behind the front desk, rolling back and forth with a mischievous smile. ¡°Well, settle in. There¡¯s a lot to tell.¡±

    Henryk paused, then wordlessly sat across from him, ready to hear it all.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper swung her backpack over her shoulder, exhausted from the day, craving a hot shower and some peace. But right as she stepped out of class, she found herself staring as Marcus tore into Atticus.

    ¡°Like I said, stay the hell away from me,¡± Marcus snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass.

    ¡°Marcus, please, just let me explain,¡± Atticus¡¯s voice was low, almost pleading.

    ¡°Explain what?¡± Marcus shot back. ¡°While me and the others were getting our asses handed to us by those pirates, you were nowhere to be found. Then I come back, and I find out my best friend got murdered while I was gone¡ªand here you are, lookin¡¯ fresh as a damn daisy.¡±

    Atticus started to respond, but his words died on his lips, his hands falling to his sides.

    Marcus shook his head, eyes blazing. ¡°That whole mission¡­ it reeked. The cargo that was lost, the fact that the employer needed a Mercurian-level battalion to haul it, the handler from Earth breathing down our necks, and that cargo¡­ ¡±

    Atticus¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You know what it was?¡± he asked quietly, oblivious to Piper, who was storming straight toward them.

    Atticus sighed, rubbing his forehead. ¡°Look, Marcus, I know as much as you do.¡± He paused, glancing around. ¡°My sister runs Earth House. She¡¯s got no clue I take on private missions, and frankly, she doesn¡¯t give a damn as long as I don¡¯t bring trouble to her door¡­ or dishonor the house.¡±

    He attempted an awkward chuckle, but it fell flat as Marcus¡¯s gaze hardened, suspicion flickering across his face.

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what was in that cargo¡­¡± Atticus hesitated, his voice dropping. ¡°But I do know it¡¯s trouble. The fact that it crash-landed on Oceana II and then, what, weeks later? The worst GrimGore infestation in history¡­¡±

    Both men fell silent, each lost in the dark weight of that revelation.

    Atticus¡¯s eyes flickered with something close to empathy. ¡°Listen, Marcus, I can''t imagine the kind of hell you went through.¡± He paused, letting the silence stretch. ¡°The Academy... it likes to keep the darker sides of things under wraps. A lot of families ignore the fine print, pretend it doesn¡¯t exist. But I didn''t abandon you guys. They were after me, too. I barely made it out with my life. By the time I could get back, they¡¯d already taken you.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s expression hardened, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±

    Atticus looked down, a shadow crossing his face. ¡°Marcus, I know we¡¯re from different houses, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about house loyalties,¡± Marcus cut in, his voice sharp. ¡°How long were you in that area?¡±

    Atticus let out a tired sigh. ¡°Maybe two days. Three, max¡­¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°The hell were you doing for two, three days?¡±

    Atticus let out a dry laugh. ¡°When you¡¯ve got a mission, you see it through. I was hunting down any intel I could get my hands on to hand over to the authorities. But those pirates were efficient. I got to Oceana II, did a bit of recon, but it didn¡¯t pan out. So, I turned back.¡±

    Marcus let out a bitter chuckle. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got skills¡­¡±

    Atticus smirked. ¡°More than you know. I¡¯ve got a knack for this stuff. But I couldn¡¯t find you guys. It was a bloodbath, and I¡¯m sorry for that. I did everything I could. Even bypassed the guild and took it straight to Mercury¡¯s higher-ups. My sister nearly took my head off for it.¡±

    Marcus studied him, doubt shadowing his gaze. ¡°Atticus,¡± he began, and Atticus met his eyes, a flicker of curiosity there.

    ¡°When we got taken,¡± Marcus said, a dark edge to his tone as he kicked a rock in frustration, ¡°we were with those pirates for a day, maybe two¡ªno more.¡±

    Atticus¡¯s face drained of color. ¡°¡­But you guys were gone nearly a full month. Last I heard, only you and two others made it back.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s jaw tightened at the memory, a darkness settling over him. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said quietly. Then his gaze sharpened. ¡°The Knights of Mars... they¡¯re the ones who finally got us. Did you detect anything from them while you were out there?¡±

    Atticus¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°The Knights of Mars?¡± he echoed, disbelief coloring his voice. ¡°You serious? Why the hell are you bringing them up to me?¡±

    Marcus exhaled, his tone grim as he spoke, just loud enough for Piper to catch as she came up behind them. ¡°The pirates were talking about selling us off. I mean, they were dreaming up hellholes to dump us all into¡ªguys, girls, didn¡¯t matter. A fate worse than death.¡± He paused, his voice tightening. ¡°But the Knights of Mars¡­ yeah, they were rough, brutal even. But without them, we¡¯d all be dead.¡±

    ¡°Marcus¡­¡± Atticus started, but then Piper¡¯s fiery curls came into view as she rounded the corner, arms crossed and that sharklike grin firmly in place.

    ¡°What¡¯re you up to, Atticus?¡± Piper¡¯s voice dripped with mock surprise, though her eyes were anything but friendly. ¡°You think you can hassle one of our best pilots in some back alley, and we¡¯re just gonna let that slide?¡±

    Atticus kept his cool, though he knew full well that he wasn¡¯t exactly Piper¡¯s favorite person. He shot a look at Marcus¡ªa silent plea. But Marcus just stared back, eyes steady, sending a clear message: You¡¯re on your own, buddy.

    Atticus sighed. He¡¯d take his lumps. After all, he¡¯d messed up out there, and he knew it.

    Trying to keep it light, he rolled his eyes and let out a dry laugh. ¡°Just checking in on your pilot, Piper. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve seen Marcus in action. Thought maybe the battle¡¯d finally turned him into a man.¡±

    Marcus chuckled, catching the humor in the jab.

    Piper¡­ not so much.

    Her smile twisted, all teeth, her gaze turning predatory. ¡°You really think you¡¯re hot shit, huh, Atticus?¡± Her voice was smooth, but her eyes held that familiar, dangerous glint. ¡°Remember last time? That duel, right after I lost to Logan? Maybe it¡¯s time we settle that score.¡±

    Atticus smirked, but there was a bead of sweat betraying his nerves as he glanced at Marcus, hoping for backup. Marcus, wide-eyed and torn, looked ready to jump in but held his tongue.

    ¡°Pi¡­¡± Marcus started, voice tense, as if he was about to defuse the situation.

    ¡°So, how about it?¡± Piper taunted, her smile edged with challenge. ¡°We duel. Settle this in the ring.¡± Her grin widened, but Marcus couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªwas this about defending him, or was Piper just itching for a rematch to settle her own score?

    Atticus let out a half-hearted sneer, then sighed. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re on.¡± He glanced at Marcus, who could only shake his head, a mix of pity and frustration tugging at him.

    As Atticus turned to leave, he paused, shooting one last look over his shoulder at Piper. ¡°I¡¯ve heard a lot about you, Red Rocket.¡±

    Piper smirked, arms crossed, her white skirt swaying as her orange tie caught in the breeze. But it was her eyes¡ªone green, the other a glinting grey prosthetic¡ªthat locked on Atticus with unshaken confidence.

    ¡°Logan was a while back,¡± Atticus continued. ¡°I¡¯ve also heard about House Mercury¡¯s little hero act¡ªwiping out GrimGar, taking down pirates, saving civilians on Oceana.¡± He looked away, hesitating just a beat before he added, ¡°Last time was a fluke, sure. But next time?¡± His eyes held a cold glint. ¡°No holding back. No punches pulled.¡±

    He strode off, leaving Piper with her smirk intact, while Marcus rounded on her immediately.

    ¡°The hell was that, Pipes?¡± he demanded.

    Piper shrugged, casual as ever. ¡°He looked like he was giving you shit, so I gave it right back.¡± She lifted her arms in a shrug, grinning, but Marcus wasn¡¯t smiling.

    ¡°Piper, that was really none of your business. Atticus¡ªthe last thing we need right now is a duel,¡± Marcus said, exasperated.

    Piper waved him off, rolling her eyes. ¡°Oh, come on. Like this is some huge deal. Hell, Zephyr and Olivia¡¯ll probably turn it into a spectacle, make a whole day out of watching the aces throw down. You know how they eat that up around here.¡±

    Marcus sighed, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s a fight that doesn¡¯t need to happen. And a lot of people remember how things went down last time with him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll kick his ass,¡± Piper said, matter-of-fact, as if it were a foregone conclusion.

    Marcus raised his hands, conceding but still unconvinced. ¡°Like he said, first time was a fluke. This time¡­ it¡¯s the real deal. You¡¯ve got way more to lose than he does, Pipes.¡±

    Piper let out a snicker, her eyes narrowing with a fierce confidence. ¡°You missed a lot while you were gone, Marcus.¡± She tapped her prosthetic eye, the steely glint flashing in the sun. ¡°I¡¯ve got my own tricks now. Atticus won¡¯t see it coming.¡±

    "You''re acting Lieutenant now, after Lucas¡¯s death,¡± Marcus sighed, his tone a mix of disappointment and caution. Silence hung between them. ¡°The freshies, they''re gonna follow you no matter what, Pipes. I know you''re the ace, but...this? Hell, your reputation still hasn''t recovered from your losses and getting...well, after Henryk¡­¡±

    ¡°Jesus Christ, Marcus,¡± Piper snapped, her temper flaring like her fiery hair. ¡°I was just trying to help you out! I didn''t think you''d come down on me like this.¡± She whipped her hair back and started walking away, muttering, ¡°Should¡¯ve known better than to try and be nice, do someone a favor.¡±

    Marcus watched her, frustration in his eyes, and she glanced back, catching his expression. In that instant, Piper felt a pang of shame, something deep and hard to ignore. She knew, deep down, that he had a point, that maybe she was wrong. But she was too far in now, pride pushing her forward.

    No matter what, she thought, steeling herself as her grip tightened around her backpack. All she had to do was win. Simple enough.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk had his hands jammed in his hoodie pockets as he and Arthur made their way down, the silence between them thick with tension. The elevator¡¯s ding echoed as they reached the ground floor, and Henryk''s eyes glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights, catching sight of the weaponry lining the walls ahead.

    ¡°Shit, they¡¯ve got stub-makers here?¡± he muttered, eyeing the ominous arsenal.

    Arthur shot him a sideways glance. ¡°You familiar with these?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s face tightened. ¡°Some guys from my colony got messed up real bad from weapons like these. Didn¡¯t stop the colony administrators from sending more of us to end up the same way, just like our fathers,¡± he added bitterly.

    Arthur grimaced. ¡°Disgusting. This¡­ this is tech heresy.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s gaze lingered on the weapons¡ªsleek, deadly instruments, glowing faintly blue even in standby. Pistols, rifles, even Warcasket-patterned monstrosities. They radiated a sinister energy.

    ¡°How many men died¡­ so they could turn these into ¡®boons¡¯ in the hands of the ¡®worthy,¡¯¡± Arthur said, almost spitting on the ground. ¡°This is stuff that should be kept far from any serf¡¯s reach. The serf should have a pick in hand, tending his field, not wielding these... abominations.¡±

    Henryk absorbed Arthur¡¯s words, eyes still fixed on the gleaming metal, then turned to Arthur. ¡°But those same guys? They suffered, Arthur. Disease, injuries from brutal labor... I mean, what about tractors? You ever hear of one?¡± He tried a smile, but Arthur¡¯s stare was cold, his eyes burning with contempt for the metal in front of them.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°No, Squire Henryk,¡± Arthur replied flatly, ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±

    They fell back into silence, stepping into the darker, deeper parts of the garage. Shadows clung to the walls, and Henryk half-expected he¡¯d need a flashlight just to navigate.

    Arthur strode a few steps ahead, his figure occasionally swallowed by patches of darkness. ¡°This guy, he¡¯s got two daughters, right?¡± Henryk asked, trying to cut the tension.

    Arthur nodded. ¡°Two.¡±

    ¡°Did he get machines down here to build all this? I mean, it¡¯s a whole city. Couldn¡¯t have done it solo¡­¡± Henryk''s voice trailed off, casting a skeptical look around.

    Arthur interrupted, ¡°Doubt it. He likely did it the old-fashioned way. Pick in hand, sweat and bone.¡±

    Henryk nearly laughed. ¡°You¡¯re telling me this guy dug all this out by himself, with a damn pickaxe?¡±

    Arthur chuckled softly. ¡°Less has been done by ordinary men. And like I said, a Knight of Mars is far from ordinary.¡±

    They stopped at a lone door, illuminated by a single, flickering light. It hung ajar, and Arthur frowned as he stepped closer. ¡°This door¡­ it should not be open.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice barely escaped his throat, his reply drowned out as the sound of a blood-curdling scream filled the air¡ªa woman¡¯s scream, desperate and raw.

    Before he knew it, they were sprinting. Henryk¡¯s heart pounded in his ears as they reached the door and threw it open.

    It wasn¡¯t the girl''s strange red skin that hit him first¡ªit was Kieren. Shirtless, crouched, pinning her down, his face twisted with an animalistic hunger. She thrashed, screaming, as Kieren¡¯s mouth parted, revealing fangs slick with saliva.

    Henryk¡¯s shock turned to fury, his body moving before his mind could catch up. ¡°Get the hell off her!¡± he roared, stomping toward Kieren, the smell of his rancid breath mixing with the girl''s cries.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Arthur shouted, hand outstretched as he glanced desperately to the side of the door. ¡°Don¡¯t go in alone!¡±

    But Henryk was already in motion, barreling toward Kieren. He grabbed Kieren around the waist, and they wrestled, limbs thrashing as Adaline shrieked, squirming free beneath them. She scrambled up, bolting out of the room, her terrified screams echoing down the hall.

    Then, Henryk drove his knee hard into Kieren¡¯s stomach. He felt the impact shudder through his own leg as Kieren doubled over, a grimace twisting his face. Henryk smirked, delivering a brutal kick that made Kieren stumble, his grip loosening.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Kieren?¡± Henryk taunted, fists clenched, breathing hard. ¡°Gotta pick on someone your own size for once?¡±

    He didn¡¯t wait for an answer. Henryk''s fist connected squarely with Kieren¡¯s face, but the victory was fleeting. In a flash, Kieren seized him with unnatural strength, and before Henryk could process it, he was airborne. His stomach dropped as he was thrown, landing with a sickening thud against the cold, unyielding metal wall.

    The impact rattled his bones, forcing the air from his lungs. Henryk clawed at the floor, gasping for breath, eyes watering. He tried to rise, but¡ª

    ¡°You¡¯ve always been a little cocksucker, haven¡¯t you, Henryk?¡± Kieren¡¯s voice was a low, grating sneer. Henryk looked up, heart pounding, to see Kieren¡¯s eyes gleaming, bloodshot, a twisted, feral grin spreading across his face.

    Kieren crouched, almost animalistic, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Henryk. Henryk pressed his back against the wall, struggling to push himself up, but Kieren was on him in a heartbeat. His hand wrapped around Henryk''s throat, pinning him against the wall. Henryk choked, barely able to draw a breath, his vision blurring.

    ¡°W-what the hell are you?¡± Henryk gasped, voice strained as he tried to pry Kieren¡¯s fingers off his neck. But Kieren¡¯s grip tightened, ironclad, relentless.

    Henryk¡¯s fists hammered against Kieren¡¯s arm, but it was like punching stone. Then, Kieren¡¯s other hand rose, fingers curling ominously, and Henryk¡¯s heart pounded as he realized Kieren was lifting him higher, as if savoring every moment of his struggle.

    Henryk¡¯s voice was raw, desperate. ¡°H-how the fuck are you so damn strong!¡± he shouted, slamming his fist into Kieren¡¯s face, feeling his strength drain with each hit. His vision blurred, narrowing as Kieren laughed, the sound rolling out like something twisted and dark. Henryk¡¯s eyes widened as Kieren¡¯s other hand came around, pressing the other side of his head hard against the wall.

    ¡°I wonder what kind of sound your head¡¯s gonna make when I crack it open, countryman,¡± Kieren taunted, chuckling darkly at his own words. ¡°Always hated hearing your name in these halls, the way the Sons of Mars favored you. What, just ¡®cause you got to Edward first? You¡¯re nothing but some mutant freak. I¡¯m doing the galaxy a favor here.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s face contorted with rage, eyes blazing as he flung wild punches, finding strength he didn¡¯t know he had. But Kieren¡¯s laugh just deepened, a sick enjoyment in every blow. Henryk¡¯s gaze caught on something¡ªa jet-black spike protruding from the base of Kieren¡¯s collarbone, just above his spine. The dark metal jutted out, mangled and twisted, with black vein-like strands spreading from it, almost like an infection.

    ¡°P-please¡­¡± Henryk choked out, his vision swimming, the pressure crushing his windpipe and pressing on his skull. Fear spiked through him¡ªwas he about to lose his eyes, feel them burst under Kieren¡¯s grip?

    A sudden, heavy crack echoed through the hall as Arthur came down with an electrical mace, smashing it hard into Kieren¡¯s right arm. The force snapped the bone, and Kieren let out a guttural howl, releasing Henryk as he stumbled back, clutching his broken arm.

    Henryk collapsed to the floor, gasping, his vision clearing as he gulped down breaths. He looked up, eyes drawn to Arthur, who now squared off against Kieren, shield raised, mace buzzing with electricity.

    ¡°You should¡¯ve waited, frontiersman,¡± Arthur said, his voice laced with a cold disdain. His figure was imposing, clad in crude riot gear, and his shield glinted under the lights as he advanced on Kieren.

    Kieren sneered, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°You always were quite the prude, Arthur,¡± he mocked, leering. ¡°Liked touching us up during training, huh? I¡¯m gonna enjoy wearing your skin like a hat¡­¡±

    Henryk¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°What the hell¡­¡± he muttered, barely able to process the twisted words coming from Kieren¡¯s mouth.

    Arthur¡¯s face hardened, his sneer unyielding. ¡°This is part of the process,¡± he said, voice steady but cold. ¡°But I never imagined the spike would bring out the darkness in Kieren like this.¡±

    Henryk, steadying himself, massaged his bruised throat as he staggered to his feet. ¡°The darkness?¡± he echoed, voice hoarse. ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡±

    But Henryk didn¡¯t get his answer. Kieren let out a guttural roar, dropping to all fours, fingers curled like talons. Then, like a cannonball, he launched himself at Arthur. Arthur raised his shield just in time, but Kieren¡¯s hands tore through the armor, rending it like paper.

    Arthur staggered back, his armor barely keeping him from serious harm, but Kieren was on him in a heartbeat. Slashes came in rapid, brutal succession, but Arthur blocked, parried, feinted a cleave¡ªand then jabbed his electric prong into Kieren¡¯s stomach. The jolt sent Kieren flying backward, crashing into the wall with a bone-rattling thud.

    ¡°Henryk, there¡¯s more weapons behind the door! If you hadn¡¯t run in here like a¡ª¡± Arthur¡¯s words cut off as Kieren lunged at him again, relentless, only barely held back by the shield.

    ¡°Henryk! Now¡¯s the time¡ªI need you!¡± Arthur shouted, his voice strained.

    Henryk stood frozen, staring at the monstrous form that was once Kieren. His mind reeled, eyes locking onto the black spike embedded in Kieren¡¯s back. Was that it? Was that the thing controlling him?

    Desperation gave Henryk a moment of grim clarity. If he could just destroy that spike, maybe he could break whatever hold it had over Kieren. But as he took a step forward, his gaze drifted to Arthur¡ªand then to his mind''s eye, flashing back to the others: Edward, August, Axel, Joseph, Isaac... all of them had identical black spikes embedded along their spines.

    Kieren had crossed the line, passed some terrifying point of no return. He had become a true Son of Mars.

    <u>Edward</u>

    ¡°You come here too?¡± Ed asked Bea, glancing over with a smirk.

    They were the only ones in the deli, save for the early-morning workers chopping veggies and cracking eggs, the smell of pepper and sizzling bacon filling the air. It was just past dawn, first classes letting out, and Ed¡¯s priority was a sandwich¡ªpreferably a bacon, egg, and cheese. He didn¡¯t expect to see Bea stroll through that same door, looking just as surprised to find him here.

    Bea shot him a look. ¡°I¡¯ve lived on this rock since the fall of Mars. I¡¯m on a first-name basis with these guys.¡±

    Ed chuckled, leaning back. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but you¡¯re just so damn easy to rile up.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Maybe you could try being less of a pain.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I pay well and promise good results,¡± he said, flashing that cocky grin and a thumbs-up.

    Bea sighed, closing her eyes briefly. ¡°More like you bring trouble. You forget that me and my sister didn¡¯t ask to be a part of this mess. We were perfectly content selling sandwiches and stocking shelves¡­¡±

    ¡°And now, you¡¯re right back serving your old loyalties to House Mars,¡± Ed interrupted, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Peachy, ain¡¯t it?¡±

    Bea sneered, crossing her arms. The smell of cooking meat and bread filled the silence between them.

    ¡°You¡¯re angry,¡± she finally said, her voice quiet but sharp.

    Ed¡¯s face hardened. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Bea. You¡¯re a business associate. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±

    Bea¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°¡­You really don¡¯t get why I¡¯m angry, do you?¡±

    Ed turned toward her, his gaze suddenly cold, his eyes narrowed to slits. ¡°I told you, Bea. I understand.¡± His usual smile returned, but it felt pasted on, like a mask.

    The silence settled heavy between them, thick as fog, and Bea half-expected him to break it. When he didn¡¯t, she let out a sharp breath, balling her fists.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± she said, voice low, ¡°for not jumping at the chance to resurrect my father¡¯s empire.¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes glinted, a dangerous spark flashing through his usual exhaustion. He rubbed his fingers together slowly, like he was smoothing out the wrinkles in his tone. ¡°Your father¡¯s empire, huh?¡± he murmured. ¡°Yeah, Mars had some¡­traditional ideas.¡±

    ¡°Traditional?¡± Bea scoffed, hugging her arms around herself. ¡°They were marrying off girls as young as thirteen to men twice their age. Don¡¯t get me started on those so-called ¡®battle maidens,¡¯ trained to be obedient little soldiers with no say in their own lives.¡±

    Ed winced, his gaze dropping as if the word ¡°obedient¡± had stirred something uncomfortable within him.

    ¡°Yeah, Mars was messed up. I get that.¡± He paused, his voice softening. ¡°But look at Oceana II.¡±

    Bea¡¯s eyes widened, caught off guard.

    Ed tightened his grip, folding his arms across his chest. ¡°Mars had its flaws¡ªharsh policies for a harsh world. But that kind of environment bred resilience, forged warriors,¡± he said, his gaze hardening as it met Bea¡¯s. ¡°I know you¡¯ve got issues with the Knights of Mars. I get it¡ªyou hated your dad. I won¡¯t hold that against you. To me, he was a great war hero.¡±

    Bea¡¯s expression twisted, bitterness flashing in her eyes. ¡°A killer, that¡¯s what he was. And a lousy excuse for a father.¡±

    Ed¡¯s jaw clenched as he stared her down. ¡°What do you want from me, Bea? You want me to just let House Mars, our history¡ªall those lives sacrificed, the millions lost¡ªfade into nothing?¡± His voice tightened, barely restrained. ¡°We¡¯ve been bleeding for this galaxy since we first stepped into space.¡±

    Bea shook her head, her tone cool and unyielding. ¡°Everything has its time, Ed. Things come and go. I¡¯m not denying some knights had valor, but look around you. Take Vinnie, for example. He¡¯s a damn good medic.¡±

    Ed nodded, unsure of her angle, but listened as she pressed on.

    ¡°Think about it,¡± she continued. ¡°You think the old Knight Hospitalers could¡¯ve given him that level of training? Hell, he¡¯s told me about the others too. That poor kid you guys call ¡®Fleeboy¡¯¡ª¡± She shot Ed a pointed glare.

    Ed shrugged dismissively. ¡°He¡¯s been rolling with it for a while now.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s demeaning, Ed. The purple-eyed jerk who came up with that name ought to piss blood for it,¡± she snapped. ¡°That kid¡¯s dealing with enough, but look at him¡ªlook at all of them. They¡¯re soft. They didn¡¯t grow up on Mars. Different backgrounds, different worlds. It¡¯s a miracle they survived Oceana, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°A miracle?¡± Ed¡¯s voice thundered, and the cooks behind the counter flinched, casting wary glances as the tension radiated from his towering figure. ¡°It¡¯s no miracle that the Knights of Mars survived that hellhole. We endure.¡± His voice carried an unshakeable pride, a raw force that hung heavy in the air. The cooks returned to their work, unwilling to cross that line.

    Ed turned back to Bea, his voice low but intense. ¡°You¡¯re right¡ªthey aren¡¯t traditional knights. We¡¯ve got Offworlders, irregulars, informal Executors even. But they¡¯ll make damn good soldiers. Some of them, like Kieren¡ªKnights.¡±

    Bea let out a scornful laugh, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ¡°You¡¯ve got it all mapped out then, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Ed rolled his eyes as the bell dinged, signaling his sandwich was ready on the counter. ¡°Thanks!¡± he called, grabbing a green soda bottle off the shelf and giving it a quick toss before catching it smoothly. His emerald eyes gleamed as he turned to Bea, the weight of his words clear. ¡°Look, you¡¯re not wrong. Mars was practically in the dark ages, maybe worse.¡± He paused, as if the admission was a stone he''d been carrying too long. ¡°Hell, maybe you''re right. Maybe it''s a blessing Mars was destroyed. There''s a million theories out there about how we wanted to seize control of the galaxy, and yeah, we¡¯ve got secrets. Even as House President, I can¡¯t claim to know them all. But that¡¯s exactly why they¡¯re powerful.¡±

    Bea raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. ¡°What are you getting at?¡±

    Ed looked at her steadily. ¡°You were writing them off, thinking these guys coming from different worlds was a weakness. It¡¯s not. It¡¯s a strength.¡± He gave a faint smile. ¡°Take Henryk¡ªhe¡¯s got two younger sisters. August still has his mother, same with Axel. And they¡¯ve got real lives outside this mess. Friends, girlfriends, family. And I know¡­,¡± he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.

    Bea¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Some of them¡­ what?¡±

    He waved it off. ¡°¡­like I was saying, they¡¯ve got perspectives. When we carve out our place in this galaxy, they¡ªand their kids¡ªare going to inherit those worlds.¡±

    Her eyes widened, realization dawning on her. ¡°That¡¯s your endgame?¡±

    Ed nodded, his face breaking into a smirk that made his eyes glint like polished emeralds. ¡°Old Martian society was bogged down with relics and dead ideas. Those old thinkers? They¡¯re gone.¡± Bea couldn¡¯t deny the pull in his gaze, the fire there. ¡°Why don¡¯t we make a change?¡±

    She looked at him, her expression guarded, but something in his words seemed to get to her. She sighed, rubbing a hand across her face. ¡°What¡¯s going to be different?¡±

    Ed took a deep breath. ¡°First off, the sexism? Gone. That¡¯s over. And yeah, I¡¯ve got plans for more modern forge worlds, places that actually work for everyone. But feudal worlds?¡± He hesitated, watching her reaction as horror crept across her face. ¡°They have to stay.¡±

    ¡°Stay?¡± She repeated, eyes wide. He could see her starting to back away, disbelief etched into her features.

    ¡°Bea, listen,¡± he said, raising his hands like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. ¡°These worlds will be supervised, held to standards. No more abuse from liege lords on serfs, no more Knights of Mars running around raiding villages and enslaving people. That part of our history is dead.¡± He looked her straight in the eye. ¡°But I need people like you to work with me on this. To make sure it¡¯s different.¡±

    "Why?¡± Bea asked, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Why do you believe Mars has to come back? Why are you dedicating yourself, risking your life and everyone else¡¯s? You were there on Oceana II¡ªI read the reports and saw it all over social media. It was hell, Ed. And you want to throw yourself back into that? For what?¡±

    ¡°We got the mechs from that,¡± Ed replied, like it justified everything.

    Bea¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°¡­You almost died, Ed.¡±

    ¡°Worth it,¡± he said, as if it was the most natural thing. ¡°We needed machines and something to call our own. Yeah, we lost an ally, and yeah, it was ugly. But those machines? They¡¯ll keep us alive. With your expertise, we¡¯ll make it.¡±

    The bell above the door rang again, and Ed glanced to the side. ¡°Listen, it¡¯s been a hell of a night. I need food, and I need sleep.¡± He let out a long yawn, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°Still, I gotta say, Bea¡ªI love arguing with you. Don¡¯t ever change.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± Bea called after him as he turned to leave, her tone catching him mid-stride. Her eyes softened, almost skeptical. ¡°Do you really believe all that you say¡­?¡±

    He stopped, sandwich and drink in hand, and looked back at her, his lone emerald eye glinting through his blond bangs.

    ¡°The Knights of Mars¡­¡± He took a breath, his voice steady. ¡°They¡¯re the only ones who can face the horrors out there. Without them, we¡¯re lost. As messed up as they are¡­ they¡¯re a curse worth carrying. Humanity needs that, to carve a path in this universe.¡±

    With those words, he turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind him.

    ¡°By any means necessary¡­¡± he murmured under his breath, the phrase a quiet vow. He made his way to a nearby bench, feeling the crisp morning air on his face. He cracked open the soda, taking a long sip that left a chill of caffeine and fizz running through him. Then he took a bite of his bacon, egg, and cheese.

    ¡°Damn, that is some good food,¡± he muttered with a grin, watching the people around him¡ªkids rushing to school, folks in suits heading to work, and a few, like him, just catching a rare moment of peace.

    Ed leaned back on the bench, hands resting over his full stomach as he tossed the empty wrapper and bottle into the bin. ¡°Damn,¡± he said, smirking to himself, ¡°that really hit the spot.¡±

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Arthur dodged Kieren¡¯s wild slash. ¡°Come and get slaughtered like a hog!¡± Kieren snarled, flinging a bare foot toward him. Arthur threw himself to the wall just in time.

    Another blow missed by inches, but Kieren was relentless. He launched himself at Arthur with terrifying speed.

    ¡°The f-fuck!¡± Arthur shouted, swinging his mace down. But he was a hair too far. Kieren¡¯s kick connected, slamming Arthur against the wall. The impact forced the air from his lungs, but he held tight to his weapon, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he extended his arms.

    ¡°Come forth, beast¡­¡± he spat, the blood dribbling over his lips.

    ¡°You¡¯re a real annoying fuck, Arthur,¡± Kieren growled. ¡°I¡¯m gonna rip out your damn voice box!¡± He lunged again, his broken arm flailing behind him like some grotesque dead weight.

    Henryk watched, wide-eyed, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. This wasn¡¯t human. The way Kieren fought¡ªthe words he spewed¡ªthey were unnatural. Henryk felt the familiar chill, that suffocating grip of fear. Fight or flight, and right now he had no idea which way to lean.

    Then he saw it¡ªanother shield and mace by the door. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, his eyes darting back to the brawl.

    The room sparked with the clash of weapons. Every hit Arthur landed, Kieren seemed to return with thrice the fury. But then¡ª

    ¡°What the f-fuck!¡± Henryk yelled, his gaze glued to Kieren¡¯s twisted arm.

    The skin moved, bulging as if something writhed beneath it. Bone splintered, creaking and cracking. Henryk watched in horrified fascination as Kieren flexed his once-broken arm, a sick smile spreading across his face. He raised a fist and drove it hard into Arthur¡¯s face.

    Arthur¡¯s helmet flew off, his body slumping to the ground. The door was open. Henryk¡¯s eyes flicked toward it; he could close it, trap Kieren inside. But his gaze shifted back to Arthur, unconscious, vulnerable, sprawled beneath that monster¡¯s shadow. Could he leave him there? Could he make himself believe it was for the girl¡¯s sake, or was he just too scared to stand his ground?

    Henryk¡¯s hands shook.

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened as he noticed the girl clutching the deactivated mace to her chest. Her lips curled in a snarl, teeth bared, and though her eyes were filled with tears, her expression was fierce.

    ¡°Y-you¡¯re like my father, right? A K-knight?¡± Adaline asked, her voice shaking as she looked up at Henryk. ¡°H-he¡¯s a monster¡­ he tried to hurt me and¡­¡±

    For a moment, despite Adaline¡¯s red skin and the fact he¡¯d never seen her before, Henryk¡¯s mind flashed to his own sisters. His expression hardened as he approached, wordlessly snatching the mace from her grip.

    As he moved forward, he reached for a shield. ¡°Girl, what¡¯s your name?¡± he asked, his tone steady as he closed the gap between him and the creature that used to be Kieren, now hunched in a feral crouch, emitting strange, guttural sounds.

    ¡°Adaline,¡± she replied, barely audible.

    ¡°Adaline,¡± Henryk repeated, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°Shut the door and lock it behind me. I¡¯ll deal with this¡­ thing.¡±

    He took a steadying breath, the fluorescent light casting him in an eerie glow as shadows danced around them.

    Henryk clenched his jaw. ¡°You sick bastard¡­¡± He clicked the mace¡¯s power button, watching as it flared to life with an electric charge, then slammed it into Kieren¡¯s side with a force that resonated through the room. He heard, felt, the satisfying crunch of ribs shattering under the blow.

    He shot a glance toward the bleeding Arthur. ¡°Oh my god¡­¡± Henryk dropped to one knee, his gaze lingering on Arthur¡¯s battered face. Then a low, rasping laugh made his blood run cold. He looked up to see Kieren, bits of flesh¡ªArthur¡¯s left ear, he realized in horror¡ªhanging from Kieren¡¯s bloody mouth. The creature was chewing, swallowing, his lips smeared with blood, smiling in a grotesque grin.

    ¡°I wonder how you taste, Henryk,¡± Kieren said, rising slowly. ¡°I just wanted to know what human tastes like. I¡¯m gonna savor you¡­ to the fullest.¡± His eyes narrowed, blood dripping from them like crimson tears. Henryk¡¯s gaze flickered to the puddle of blood spreading beneath Arthur.

    ¡°What you¡¯ve done is unforgivable!¡± Henryk roared, charging forward, his anger giving him strength.

    Kieren let out a twisted cackle, swinging wildly, but Henryk sidestepped him, slamming his shield into Kieren with a force that sent him crashing into the wall. Arthur, groaning, pressed his hand to the blood-slick floor, struggling to sit up, his gaze locking onto the crackling voltage of Henryk¡¯s mace.

    ¡­and Arthur reclaimed his mace with a fierce grip, springing back into action just as Henryk was thrown against the wall. But before Kieren could pounce on him, Arthur surged forward, smashing Kieren into the metal wall with bone-crunching force. Kieren¡¯s body bounced off the wall, collapsing onto the floor, momentarily still¡ªbut Arthur and Henryk both knew better.

    ¡°Stay on that bastard! Don¡¯t give him a second to breathe!¡± Henryk yelled, his voice raw and edged with fury. Arthur threw his head back, letting out a battle-crazed laugh as he swung his mace, landing another heavy blow.

    ¡°Give him a beating he¡¯ll remember in hell!¡± Arthur shouted, slamming the electrified mace into Kieren¡¯s back, each strike drawing an agonized howl from him. Henryk, barely seeing through the red haze clouding his vision, swung his own weapon, the screams filling his ears, feeding the rage burning inside him.

    Memories of the academy flooded his mind, the taunts, the jeers, the endless days dealing with Kieren¡¯s cruelty. He wasn¡¯t just fighting Kieren; he was fighting every insult, every sneer, every time he¡¯d been dismissed as a ¡°mutant.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, Kieren! You¡¯ve made my life a living hell!¡± Henryk¡¯s voice cracked, his face streaked with tears and fury. Arthur, in his own battle trance, was equally relentless.

    ¡°He¡¯s one tough son of a bitch! Keep at him, Henryk! When he¡¯s out cold, we¡¯ll tie him down and make sure he doesn¡¯t get up!¡± Arthur bellowed, his blows relentless¡ªbut even as they struck, Kieren¡¯s resilience was unnerving. Wounds that would bring any normal man to his knees barely fazed him, the cuts and bruises nothing more than minor irritations.

    ¡°Die! Just die already!¡± Henryk screamed, his voice trembling with exhaustion and desperation. ¡°I¡¯m done! Done with all this twisted shit!¡±

    ¡°Squire Brown!¡± Arthur¡¯s tone turned sharp, authoritative. But Henryk didn¡¯t hear him, lost in the spiraling vortex of his own rage, blinded by the memories that clawed at him.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Arthur¡¯s shout was desperate now, his voice cutting through the fury, but he could see that Henryk wasn¡¯t listening, wasn¡¯t even there. He was lost to the anger, the hate¡ªand the memories.

    ¡°Control yourself!¡± Arthur¡¯s eyes widened as he threw his baton aside, thrusting out his hand as Henryk delivered one final, thunderous blow to Kieren¡¯s back. Sparks crackled, surging through Kieren¡¯s body, illuminating every muscle and nerve in agonizing clarity. Without the spikes to shield him, he¡¯d have been dead ten times over.

    It was funny¡ªthat was the thought running through Henryk''s mind. In the momentum of his backswing, he adjusted his grip, sliding his hand up the mace handle, tightening, then flipping it downward. He aimed the head of the mace right at the freshly installed spike incubating in Kieren''s back. He knew that could be enough to finally end this nightmare.

    But just as a cold chill settled over him, Arthur¡¯s hand¡ªstrong, metal, Martian-reinforced¡ªgripped his, stopping the mace''s electric prongs dangerously close to the spikes on Kieren¡¯s spine.

    ¡°What are you doing, countryman?¡± Arthur rasped, his voice strained, blood trickling down his head. He grimaced, fighting through the pain, his blood-slick fingers pressing down to stop Henryk from lowering the mace.

    ¡°What am I doing?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice shook with anger. ¡°What¡¯s this madness, Arthur? I¡¯m doing what you won¡¯t!¡± His gaze darted between Arthur and Kieren. ¡°He bit a piece of your ear off, Arthur! He was ranting, saying¡­vile things. Imagine if we¡¯d left him alone with Adaline just one second longer!¡±

    Arthur tightened his grip, the anger bleeding into his voice. ¡°I know, Henryk! But Kieren¡¯s just begun the incubation process for the spikes. My spikes haven¡¯t been fully tested either.¡± He hesitated, his face hardening. ¡°Not all spikes are made the same, Henryk. I¡­fear the errors of the past may have come back¡­¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes narrowed, suspicion dawning. ¡°You knew this could happen, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Arthur¡¯s silence was answer enough. Henryk¡¯s hand froze. ¡°Different Knight Legions have unique traits. Our spikes mutate, yes, but there are benefits to keeping the mutations rather than culling them¡­¡± Arthur glanced at Kieren¡¯s unconscious body, then back to Henryk. ¡°Now, help me strap him down. And pay attention¡ªwe¡¯re about to do a battle lesson.¡±

    ¡°Right here?¡± Henryk asked, eyes wide.

    Arthur nodded. ¡°What did you see out there?¡±

    Henryk exhaled, rubbing his temples. ¡°More shit than I¡¯ll be able to sleep off in a lifetime, I¡¯ll tell you that.¡±

    ¡°Henryk, focus. This isn¡¯t for fun. Knowing these things could save your life someday. You need to understand what¡¯s going on in the field.¡±

    Grumbling, Henryk helped Arthur secure Kieren to the bed, wrapping the straps tightly around his limbs. ¡°¡­Ignoring the insane crap he was spouting¡­¡± Henryk trailed off, glancing at Arthur. ¡°That thing he was doing with his bones¡ªthat was regeneration, wasn¡¯t it?¡± He said it like he couldn¡¯t believe it, almost smiling in disbelief.

    Arthur nodded slowly. ¡°Yes. My Knight Legion¡ªmy father¡¯s and brothers¡¯ as well¡ªhave a unique trait. We¡¯re quick healers. Very quick.¡± Arthur turned, catching Henryk¡¯s stare as his own wound began to clot and close. ¡°I can¡¯t fully regenerate a lost limb, but it beats bleeding out on some battlefield,¡± Arthur added with a faint smile. ¡°Kieren¡­well, he¡¯s part of that legacy, for better or worse.¡±

    Both of them glanced at Kieren¡¯s unconscious form, bound tightly to the bed.

    ¡°Arthur¡­¡± Henryk began, voice shaking. ¡°What Kieren was saying, what he was doing¡­even for a mutation, that wasn¡¯t normal.¡±

    Arthur took a deep breath, pushing open the door. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t,¡± he said, turning back with a level look, his wound now dried. ¡°But you¡¯ve proven yourself, Henryk. It¡¯s time you started learning the real history behind the Knights of Mars. And how we plan to save this galaxy.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Contradictions I - Book 2

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk returned to House Mars after the grueling morning, his body heavy with exhaustion and his mind cluttered with the weight of it all. He pushed through the door without a word, ignoring the murmurs of others who seemed ready to speak with him. His only focus was on reaching his bedroom and the sanctuary of his bathroom.

    The second he got in, he flicked the shower on. Hot steam billowed around him, clinging to his skin as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. He caught his reflection in the fogging mirror, and for a moment, he paused. His eyes widened at his own transformation. His muscles had become more defined, his shoulders broader. A faint six-pack was beginning to push through, carving itself along his abdomen.

    He chuckled to himself, curling a fist and flexing. For a brief second, pride flickered¡ªbut it was quickly replaced by a wince. The pain pulled him back to the fight, to Kieren¡¯s savage, animalistic fury. The threats Kieren had spat, dripping with venom, resurfaced in his mind. What he¡¯d almost done to Adaline¡­

    And then there was Arthur¡ªmaimed but alive. Henryk shuddered. That could¡¯ve been him. Hell, if they¡¯d been a second later, it could¡¯ve been Adaline.

    The thought sent a chill down his spine. His gaze drifted back to the mirror, now cloaked in fog. His mind wandered back to earlier, just before they¡¯d left the garage. He and Arthur had spoken with the girl, checked on her.

    ¡°Why were you even in there with that¡­ thing?¡± Henryk had asked, his voice edged with disbelief. ¡°Didn¡¯t anyone tell you what was going on?¡±

    Adaline sat at a table, clutching tissues in trembling hands. Her face was pale, her red skin stark under the overhead lights. ¡°Ed, Vinnie, and my sister told me to keep a close eye on him,¡± she murmured. ¡°So, I waited. Then he started talking about being in pain. I didn¡¯t let him out of the restraints, but¡­ I opened the door to get a better look, and then¡­¡±

    Arthur, standing nearby, took a deep breath. His hand rose to his face, brushing against the raw wound where his ear had been. Both Henryk and Adaline stared, unable to hide their grim fascination as the edges of the wound seemed to self-cauterize before their eyes.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now,¡± Arthur said, his tone steady. ¡°What matters is that you¡¯re safe.¡±

    Adaline¡¯s eyes glistened as fresh tears spilled. ¡°Thank you, but¡­ you lost your ear saving me¡­¡±

    Arthur smirked, his expression softening into something almost playful. ¡°One of the first, and simplest, tenets of chivalry is the protection of women and maidens.¡± His voice grew warmer. ¡°Your father was a great Knight, and you, in turn, are a princess of Mars. I merely did my duty.¡±

    He pressed a fist to his chest, his smile growing wider, full of unshakable pride.

    Adaline¡¯s lips trembled as more tears fell. ¡°T-thank you¡­¡± she stammered, sincerity pouring from her with each word.

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened, his mouth slightly ajar, frozen in awe. Arthur was like a superhero¡ªno, not like¡ªhe was a superhero. The thought almost made Henryk chuckle, but the memory was too real, too raw. Arthur had rolled in there and saved that little girl¡¯s life. Not for glory, not for recognition, but because it was the right thing to do. Because he was a Knight.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be putting all the weight on me, girl,¡± Arthur had said, clamping a hand on Henryk¡¯s shoulder with such a commanding presence that Henryk nearly jumped. ¡°Thank the Druid of Mars.¡±

    That memory lingered in Henryk¡¯s mind like a faded photograph, still vibrant but distant. His hands froze under the scalding water of the sink, his breaths heavy and uneven. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, he smiled. He¡¯d heard plenty of bad things about House Mars¡ªwhispers, accusations, rumors¡ªbut Arthur¡¯s actions proved otherwise. At least somebody was trying to be one of the good guys.

    Could pricks like Jace or Logan have done what Arthur did? Hell no.

    But no one saw that side of House Mars. Instead, it was Henryk and his brothers who bore the shame, who were painted as villains. Centuries of loyal service to the Emperor, and this was their reward? Scorn. Ridicule. Hatred.

    He turned off the faucet, dried his hands, and pulled on a shirt. The thoughts were piling up, heavy and relentless. The academy, the Houses, the missions¡ªit was all too much. And now Kieren. A fellow Knight, turned into some kind of monster. The good guys, sure. But could his family ever see them that way? Could he?

    His mind wandered home, to the men in his mother¡¯s life. His grandfather, his father, even his stepfather¡ªall good men. All dead. And now it was just him, standing between his two younger half-sisters and the void. The academy could change his life. It had to. But the memories of Oceana, the pressure of training, missions, and House loyalty¡ªit was eating him alive.

    He took a deep, rattling breath, his hands gripping the edges of the sink. ¡°I-I can¡¯t be here right now,¡± he mumbled to himself, his reflection staring back at him with hollow eyes.

    The bathroom door clicked shut behind him as he zipped up his jacket. His phone buzzed in his pocket, a sharp blip breaking through the fog in his head. He pulled it out, narrowing his eyes at the attendance alarm flashing on the screen. ¡°I¡¯ve got a couple more days I can skip,¡± he muttered, shrugging it off as he pocketed the phone and headed down the hall.

    As he reached the staircase, he froze again. Waiting for him at the bottom were Franklin, Mateo, and Wilbur, their faces a mix of apprehension and expectation. They stared up at him like they were sizing him up for something big.

    ¡°What is this all about?¡± Henryk asked, his voice steady but his pulse quickening.

    Mateo stepped forward, his brows furrowed with concern. ¡°How¡¯s Kieren? Is he doing okay?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened, his mind flaring with images of what had happened. Should he tell them? His thoughts swirled back to the secrets of House Mars¡ªthose things they wanted locked away, things Arthur would have demanded remain buried.

    He tilted his chin up, masking his inner turmoil with a stoic front. He was part of House Mars now, bound to its oaths, its silences. ¡°Last I checked, Kieren was fine, but if you want the details, ask Arthur or the others,¡± Henryk said, his tone clipped as he descended the steps.

    Mateo and Wilbur exchanged relieved glances, tension draining from their shoulders.

    ¡°So, the surgery was a success?¡± Franklin asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

    Henryk opened his mouth to respond, but¡ª

    The world beneath him tilted violently, the axis of reality yanking sideways. His hands flew out, gripping the banister just in time to stop himself from tumbling down the stairs. His elbows locked, holding him steady as his knees buckled.

    ¡°Holy shit!¡± Wilbur shouted, scrambling toward Henryk. Mateo and Franklin were right behind him, their hands reaching out, but their eyes weren¡¯t on Henryk.

    The mass of brown robes zipped past, darting through the dimly lit corridor below. It moved like a shadow, faster than any of them could track. Small¡ªsmaller than all of them¡ªbut bigger than a child. It cut through the hallway like a ghost through fog.

    Henryk¡¯s knuckles whitened as he gripped the banister tighter. His heart raced, adrenaline spiking. ¡°W-what the fuck!¡± he shouted, his gaze locking onto the retreating figure. ¡°I-I¡¯ve seen that fucking thing before!¡±

    He had written about it once, buried it in a journal entry he¡¯d hoped no one would read. A shadowy being he¡¯d spotted in the dark corners of the school. He wasn¡¯t the only one¡ªJoeseph and the others had seen it, too. But they¡¯d dismissed it, shoved it aside like they did everything else¡ªlike the talk of the spikes, like the whispers of Old Mars.

    The creature ducked into a side hallway, vanishing into the shadows.

    ¡°Henryk, are you¡ª¡± Mateo began, his voice cautious, but Henryk cut him off with a wave of his hand. He shoved himself upright, brushing off his jacket with sharp, irritated movements.

    ¡°I¡¯m really starting to hate this freaking school,¡± Henryk muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, the static cling making it stand on end.

    ¡°H-Hey, where are you going?¡± Franklin asked, his tone rising with concern.

    ¡°¡­More like, what the hell was that?¡± Wilbur interjected, his voice quivering with unease. ¡°That had to be an intruder. Do we need to call the cops, or¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen something like that before,¡± Henryk said matter-of-factly, his tone clipped as he strode forward. ¡°The Knights¡­ the Sons¡­ they know about all this,¡± he muttered, his words trailing as though he were piecing together a puzzle mid-sentence.

    ¡°Hey, hey, where are you going?¡± Wilbur called after him, his voice sharp with exasperation. ¡°After the shit show with Kieren, House Venus, and now these little gremlin fuckers running around, you¡¯re just gonna leave?¡±

    Henryk paused at the foot of the stairs, running a hand through his hair with a weary sigh. ¡°First off, I¡¯ve got class,¡± he said, voice rattling with frustration. ¡°Not that I even want to go, but I need to get my mind off this crap.¡± Then his words slowed, his mind catching on something. ¡°House Venus? Kieren¡¯s fine, but House Venus?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The three exchanged uneasy glances, their collective silence setting Henryk on edge. His patience snapped, and his voice cut through the tension like a blade. ¡°Talk.¡±

    Franklin rubbed his elbow, hesitant, his eyes darting toward the floor. ¡°We¡­ well, it was more Kieren¡¯s idea,¡± he admitted reluctantly. ¡°We kinda¡­ messed with House Venus. Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened, disbelief plain on his face. ¡°W-why? What?¡± His voice rose with incredulity. ¡°Why the hell would you do that? They¡¯re one of the strongest Houses in the Solar System! Hell, I thought you guys were just trying to skim by.¡±

    Wilbur sneered, crossing his arms. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, Henryk Brown,¡± he said, the words dripping with sarcasm.

    ¡°Wilbur,¡± Mateo cut in, his tone sharp with warning.

    But Wilbur wasn¡¯t about to stop. ¡°No, Mateo. This is the last guy who should be lecturing us,¡± he snapped. ¡°First off, we just wanted to make a name for ourselves. Henryk doesn¡¯t have to worry about that because the truebloods fawn over him. Hell, we only attacked them because of the mess he caused.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s brow furrowed, his voice rising. ¡°I don¡¯t know how my actions motivated you in any way. My issues with House Venus are mine¡ªI didn¡¯t need anyone to get involved!¡±

    Wilbur¡¯s grin turned cheeky, a spark of defiance in his eyes. ¡°¡­So the rumors are true then.¡±

    ¡°Enough, Wilbur,¡± Mateo warned again, his voice like steel. His gaze flicked toward Franklin, but Franklin kept his head down, avoiding the tension altogether.

    Wilbur smirked, ignoring the warning. ¡°So, were we wrong to attack them? We only did it because you were falsely accused. Or maybe we¡¯re the ones who were wrong. What do you think, Mateo?¡± He tilted his head toward Mateo briefly before snapping his gaze back to Henryk. ¡°I mean, a princess accuses you of pinning her down in a dark, empty room and trying to rape her, then you go off and beat the shit out of her friends¡ªand then you duel her brother and kick his ass.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes flared open, his chest heaving, arms crossed tightly over himself like he was holding something back, something ready to explode. ¡°That¡¯s the worst crime imaginable,¡± he spat, his voice rising with fury. ¡°I¡¯ve got sisters. A mother. Do you think I¡¯d do something like that? I wasn¡¯t even around Hannah or the goddamn party when the Antlered Knight was going off, beating everyone there!¡±

    He stepped forward, his voice a storm gathering strength. ¡°Second,¡± Henryk jabbed a finger into the air, ¡°I only got involved when Jace was grabbing up on Sirine. You most definitely saw that!¡± His words cracked like a whip.

    Wilbur rolled his eyes, trying to play it off, but Henryk was just getting started. ¡°Oh, so you¡¯ll discount Jace? The guy who was obviously trying to sexually assault her? No, no, he didn¡¯t do much¡ªjust enough to leave Sirine terrified that night.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s voice boomed now, his face a mask of rage and conviction. ¡°And when I stepped up¡ªthe only man in that crowd willing to do something¡ªyou all just stood there.¡± His breath came in short bursts, the spit flying from his lips as he marched toward Wilbur. ¡°You want to denounce me? The one actually making waves? The one taking a stand while the rest of you hide?¡±

    Wilbur flinched, his usual bravado crumbling as Henryk loomed over him. The room felt stifling, the weight of Henryk¡¯s fury pressing down on everyone.

    But then, Henryk froze, his words catching in his throat as his gaze shifted, catching the fear in Wilbur¡¯s eyes, the shallow, panicked breaths coming from everyone in the room. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring, and for a moment, his anger seemed to fold in on itself, replaced by something colder.

    Henryk sneered, his voice dropping to a flat, venomous tone. ¡°Goodbye.¡±

    He spun on his heel and marched to the door. The slam echoed through the room like a gunshot, leaving behind a rhythmic, heavy silence that pulsed like a heartbeat in the wake of his departure.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper sat stiffly in Zephyr¡¯s office, the hum of the air conditioner struggling against the morning heat. Zephyr clutched the unit to his stomach like a lifeline, his bulk sinking into the chair as he avoided her gaze. His eyes stayed glued to the console in front of him, his fingers clicking through screens with deliberate slowness.

    ¡°Do you know why I called you in today, Piper?¡± Zephyr finally asked, his voice low, almost bored.

    Piper¡¯s brows furrowed, exhaustion weighing on her. The early sunlight creeping through the blinds wasn¡¯t helping. ¡°Zephyr, what is this all about?¡±

    Zephyr didn¡¯t answer, his attention on the monitor as though he¡¯d forgotten she was even there. Then, with an almost childlike air of self-importance, he cleared his throat and read aloud:

    ¡°To the leadership of House Mercury¡ªconcerning the recent duel involving Lieutenant Piper and Atticus of House Earth. Given the current galaxy-wide instability and the academy¡¯s precarious standing, this behavior is irresponsible and sets a dangerous precedent. The duel should be rescinded immediately.¡±

    Zephyr sighed, rubbing his temples as he looked at her for the first time. ¡°Do you think this was appropriate behavior?¡± he asked, the weariness in his voice giving way to annoyance. His hands pressed into his face, muffling his next words. ¡°Do you just get a kick out of this? Making others clean up after you while you sit back and reap the benefits?¡±

    ¡°Zephyr¡ª!¡± Piper¡¯s voice rose, but Zephyr cut her off with a sharp glare.

    ¡°Piper, lower your tone,¡± he snapped. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, static and heavy, leaving the room oppressively silent.

    Piper¡¯s jaw tightened, but she refused to look away. Her eyes glistened, though no tears fell. She wouldn¡¯t give him that satisfaction. She crossed her arms, leaning back with a scoff. ¡°So that¡¯s what¡¯s got you so worked up. The duel. Figures.¡±

    Zephyr exhaled through his nose, his head sinking back into his hands. ¡°You¡¯re a Lieutenant now, Piper. This isn¡¯t just about being an ace with a flashy nickname. You carry weight. Your actions carry weight. These little duels aren¡¯t just games; they¡¯re statements. What kind of precedent are you setting for the House?¡± His voice rose again, sharp and frustrated. ¡°Do you ever think beyond yourself?¡±

    ¡°I got Atticus out of a tough spot,¡± Piper shot back. ¡°There¡¯s honor in dueling, and he agreed to it. Until he tells me otherwise, I won¡¯t back out.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°Consider this a presidential order,¡± he said, his tone dropping, cold as a blade.

    Piper¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. ¡°Or what, Zephyr? You gonna punish me?¡±

    Zephyr leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. ¡°There are other ways to handle this. Favors you enjoy as a Red Rocket, for instance¡ªa House during the off-seasons, unrestricted spending in Mercurian territories. These aren¡¯t rights, Piper. They¡¯re privileges. And privileges,¡± he added, his voice dripping with implication, ¡°can be revoked.¡±

    Piper¡¯s smile vanished, her eyes flaring wide before narrowing into slits. ¡°Zephyr,¡± she said, her voice trembling with restrained fury, ¡°I¡¯ve given years of loyal service to the Mercurian Sphere. I was born on one of their planets. I fought for my place here, bled for it. And you want to talk to me about privileges? I could¡¯ve filled a graveyard with corpses by now. I¡¯m not even twenty-one. Don¡¯t you dare discount what I¡¯ve done.¡±

    Zephyr wobbled slightly in his chair, his gaze dropping to his desk. The silence was deafening, heavy with all the unsaid words between them. Piper¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing through every moment they¡¯d worked together, every bit of trust she thought they¡¯d built. All of it felt like it was crumbling to ash.

    ¡°Well?¡± she challenged, her voice cracking under the weight of her anger. ¡°Say something.¡±

    Zephyr didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t. He just sat there, his silence saying everything she feared.

    Finally, he muttered, ¡°You¡¯ve got to stop thinking for yourself, Piper.¡±

    Piper clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream, to throw something, but instead, she sat.

    ¡°Got it,¡± Piper brushed off, her tone clipped.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Piper,¡± Zephyr said, his voice hardening as he extended a hand. ¡°What does this accomplish? Evening out your pilot pride because you think things have changed since Oceana II?¡±

    Piper rolled her eyes, waving him off. ¡°A lot has changed. I¡¯ve grown stronger because of this.¡± She tapped the plastic of her eye, the unblinking lens staring back at Zephyr, defiant.

    ¡°You can¡¯t use that machine in normal battle,¡± Zephyr snapped, the words biting.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about the machine,¡± Piper shot back, her voice sharp as a blade.

    ¡°Good,¡± Zephyr replied, his tone firm. ¡°Because that¡¯s Mercurian-classified military property. You know the rules.¡±

    ¡°Classified,¡± Piper repeated, her voice dripping with venom. ¡°So, you get to use me as a guinea pig, but I don¡¯t even get to decide my own damn fights?¡± she spat, her fists tightening at her sides.

    ¡°Piper!¡± Zephyr barked, his voice rising. ¡°You¡¯re out of line!¡±

    ¡°This is bullshit! It¡¯s an injustice!¡± Piper fired back, her words spilling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. ¡°You¡¯ve never had an issue with me fighting before. Now, suddenly, it¡¯s a problem? I¡¯m going to win!¡± she shouted, her chest heaving as the air in the room thickened with tension. For a moment, silence swallowed them both, leaving only their ragged breaths echoing in the space.

    Zephyr exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and deliberate. ¡°You can leave now.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t need to tell me twice,¡± Piper muttered, rising to her feet. The chair screeched against the floor as she shoved it back with more force than necessary.

    As she reached the door, her hand hesitated on the handle. She didn¡¯t turn around, but her voice was steady, if laced with a touch of bitterness. ¡°Open or closed?¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s icy gaze lingered on her for a moment before returning to the desk. ¡°Closed,¡± he said firmly.

    Without another word, Piper stepped through, shutting the door behind her with a final, deliberate click.

    <u>Earth House</u>

    The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the cramped common area of Earth House. It wasn¡¯t much¡ªworn couches, a scuffed coffee table piled with half-empty soda cans, and a kitchenette that had seen better days¡ªbut it was home for its residents. Tonight, it was anything but peaceful.

    Atticus stood near the window, the pale light of the city casting shadows over his bruised face. His sister, Ella, Earth House¡¯s President, loomed in front of him, her posture rigid, her hand still stinging from the slap she¡¯d just delivered. The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic from outside and the murmured breaths of the lieutenants who lined the walls.

    ¡°You idiot,¡± Ella hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done? You¡¯ve dragged this House into the mud!¡±

    Atticus clenched his jaw, staring out the window, avoiding her glare. ¡°I didn¡¯t drag anyone into anything,¡± he muttered. ¡°This is between me and Piper.¡±

    Ella¡¯s laugh was sharp, bitter. ¡°Between you and Piper? God, you really are as stupid as you look. Do you think duels like this happen in a vacuum? Do you think House Venus isn¡¯t watching every damn move we make, just waiting for us to screw up?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not my problem,¡± Atticus shot back, finally turning to face her. His voice was steady, but his fists were clenched tight at his sides. ¡°This is about pilot honor.¡±

    ¡°Honor?¡± Ella snapped, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. ¡°You don¡¯t have any honor to protect! You lost that the second you decided to throw this House under the bus for your petty pride.¡±

    The lieutenants shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between the two siblings. One of them, a lanky guy named Victor, tried to interject. ¡°Ella, maybe we should¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut it, Victor,¡± Ella barked, silencing him instantly. She turned back to Atticus, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. ¡°You¡¯re going to rescind this duel. Now.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Atticus said firmly, meeting her gaze head-on. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    Ella¡¯s hand shot up again, trembling with rage, but before she could bring it down, the sharp knock of knuckles against the door cut through the tension. Everyone froze, the sound ringing out like a gunshot in the thick silence.

    Ella hesitated, her hand lowering slightly as she turned toward the door. ¡°Who the hell¡­?¡± she muttered, striding across the room and yanking it open.

    Standing in the doorway were two messengers clad in the regal green and gold of House Venus. Behind them, towering like a monument to arrogance, was Jace himself, the President of House Venus. His smirk was as sharp as the tailored lines of his suit.

    ¡°Good evening,¡± Jace drawled, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

 Chapter 9 - The Rubicon Tapes - Book 2

    Chapter 9 - The Rubicon Tapes - Book 2

    <hr>

    <u>House Pluto</u>

    The walls bore the muted grays of military precision, punctuated by the occasional banner of their house''s insignia. Gerald sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes surveying the group. Bracken, younger but with a temper honed like a blade, leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. Around them, the other members of their squad¡ªDane, Lachlan, and Fergus¡ªjostled for space on the mismatched chairs, their camaraderie as frayed and patched as the furniture itself.

    The room buzzed with the echoes of academy rumors. Gerald, always the anchor, leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. ¡°So, let¡¯s hear it. What¡¯s the word on the duel?¡±

    Lachlan, ever the joker, smirked. ¡°The big news isn¡¯t the duel, but the¡­ ¡®art installation¡¯ on House Venus. Heard they¡¯re calling it ¡®Martian Modernism.¡¯¡±

    The room erupted in laughter. Bracken¡¯s face remained stoic, but his lips twitched. ¡°You mean the dicks and toilet paper?¡±

    Fergus, choking on his drink, slapped the table. ¡°Dicks, dicks everywhere! Even on their prized banner! Who does that?¡±

    Gerald chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Juvenile, sure, but you have to admit it¡¯s effective. Their reputation took a hit.¡±

    Bracken''s voice cut through the mirth, sharp and cold. ¡°Juvenile? It¡¯s idiotic. House Mars isn¡¯t doing themselves any favors by pulling stunts like that. They¡¯re a house teetering on the edge of disgrace, and this just gives the others more ammunition.¡±

    Dane, leaning back, shrugged. ¡°Still, it¡¯s funny.¡±

    Gerald turned his focus to Bracken. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but this isn¡¯t about the prank. It¡¯s about the perception of strength. The duel? That¡¯s their way of showing they¡¯re still a force to be reckoned with.¡±

    Bracken¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°And Henryk? What do we know about him?¡±

    The room fell silent, the earlier laughter dissipating like smoke. Gerald spoke, his tone measured. ¡°Henryk¡¯s¡­ an anomaly. He¡¯s unpolished, sure, but he¡¯s got the grit. If we¡¯re being honest, he¡¯s probably a better fit for their house than most.¡±

    Bracken scoffed. ¡°A better fit? He¡¯s reckless. You remember what happened in Oceana.¡±

    Gerald nodded slowly. ¡°I do. And I also remember that he didn¡¯t flinch when things went sideways. That kind of resolve isn¡¯t easy to come by.¡±

    Lachlan leaned forward, his grin returning. ¡°You know what they say, though. Desperation makes for some interesting bedfellows.¡±

    As the group continued to debate, the ground beneath them rumbled, a faint tremor that passed almost unnoticed.

    Fergus chuckled nervously. ¡°Was that¡­? Nah, couldn¡¯t be. Probably just the old boilers acting up again.¡±

    Bracken¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Maybe. Or maybe it¡¯s something else.¡±

    The tension in the room grew palpable, the laughter fading into an uneasy silence.

    <u>Piper</u>

    ¡°They¡¯re not going to let me rescind the duel, and now they want to change the parameters?¡± Piper asked, leaning back in her chair, arms and legs crossed, her hands gesturing in disbelief. Marcus and Margaret sat beside her, their faces shifting between confusion and unease as Zephyr stared them down, his fingers laced together on the desk before him.

    ¡°Correct,¡± Zephyr replied, his tone tight. He hesitated briefly, then continued, ¡°They¡¯re proposing a mixed team battle. It won¡¯t be just you and Atticus anymore.¡±

    Piper shrugged dismissively. ¡°That¡¯s fine. We¡¯ve got plenty of pilots¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not listening,¡± Zephyr cut her off, his voice firm. ¡°This is a mixed team battle. Your team has to be comprised of members from other houses. Only one pilot can be House Mercury stock.¡±

    Piper froze. Her eyes widened as her head snapped toward Marcus and Margaret, the realization dawning on their faces, too. The room seemed to tense all at once. Before anyone could respond, the door swung open with a sharp creak.

    ¡°Ah, Anderson and Sarah,¡± Zephyr said, pasting on his signature false smile as the group turned toward the door.

    Margaret greeted them with a polite nod, while Marcus¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. Piper, however, narrowed her eyes as she scanned the new arrivals. Sarah¡ªa girl with nervous eyes and a cold sweat clinging to her brow¡ªcouldn¡¯t meet Piper¡¯s gaze. And Anderson... Piper recognized him as the first-year pilot who had recklessly thrown himself into the fray against a tank mech. He smiled a little too brightly, exuding an almost overeager energy that immediately set her teeth on edge.

    ¡°They look like first-years,¡± Piper muttered under her breath.

    ¡°Lieutenant Sarah,¡± Sarah introduced herself stiffly.

    ¡°Lieutenant Anderson,¡± Anderson added, his voice cheerfully loud, almost as if he were oblivious to the tension in the room.

    Piper, Marcus, and Margaret exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting between disbelief and incredulity. Marcus was the first to crack, a chuckle slipping out as he gestured toward the pair. ¡°Zephyr, you¡¯ve got to be kidding me. These are first-years¡ª¡±

    His words were cut off by a sharp chop to the arm from Piper, silencing him instantly. He shot her a glare, but she didn¡¯t flinch.

    Zephyr didn¡¯t even blink at the exchange, his focus unbroken. ¡°I know their age,¡± he said curtly. ¡°But after what happened with Eric, Jeremiah, and the others...¡± He trailed off, his expression darkening. ¡°After Lucas¡¯s death and the state of the captured, who are only just now being recovered and relocated¡ª¡±

    Marcus flinched as if Zephyr had struck him. His lips parted, ready to fire back, but Margaret¡¯s hand found his knee, squeezing it in warning. The subtle gesture didn¡¯t go unnoticed by Zephyr, who continued without pause.

    ¡°Sarah and Anderson may be first-year midworlders, but they have demonstrated quality experience in handling Warcaskets,¡± Zephyr said, gesturing toward the pair as though he were introducing prized assets.

    Piper swallowed her annoyance. She was already on thin ice with Zephyr, and while she didn¡¯t particularly care for Sarah, her feelings toward Anderson were lukewarm at best. He seemed... fine, if a bit overeager. That smile of his was irritating, though.

    ¡°Please, sit down,¡± Zephyr said, his tone deceptively pleasant. ¡°They¡¯ve already been briefed on Piper¡¯s blunder.¡±

    Piper¡¯s jaw tightened, her teeth grinding behind her lips. She forced herself to stay quiet, her fingers curling against her thighs. Marcus, however, bristled visibly at the comment, only to have Margaret¡¯s hand clamp down on his arm again. The tension in the room was palpable.

    Zephyr exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. ¡°I apologize, Piper,¡± he said, though his tone lacked sincerity. ¡°But this duel... it¡¯s not going to be what you thought it was. You¡¯ll need two more pilots from other houses. Friends, allies, whatever you can find. But be careful who you choose.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes widened, her confidence faltering for the first time. ¡°Z-Zephyr, I¡ª¡± she stammered.

    ¡°What?¡± Zephyr snapped, leaning forward. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you can¡¯t get yourself out of this mess?¡±

    Marcus finally had enough. ¡°Listen, Zephyr, I get it. Piper mishandled the situation, but come on¡ªshe¡¯s Pipes. You¡¯ve known her for years. She¡¯s been our ace, our go-to for any challenge thrown our way. You think the other houses are going to respond to our call like that?¡± His voice cracked slightly, frustration seeping through.

    Zephyr hesitated, his usual confidence wavering for a moment. ¡°I know,¡± he said softly. Sarah and Anderson shifted uncomfortably in their seats, clearly out of their depth, while Margaret¡¯s sharp eyes caught the way Anderson¡¯s fists tightened at every slight against Piper. A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

    Zephyr continued, his tone clipped and businesslike. ¡°Piper, this situation has spiraled out of my control. Your title¡ªthe Red Rocket¡ªit¡¯s only held by pilots on a winning streak. At the academy, you¡¯ve been losing. Logan, countless others, and now Atticus. It¡¯s becoming a pattern.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes snapped wide open, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across her face. ¡°And now you¡¯re telling me this?¡± she snapped.

    Zephyr chuckled, but the sound was dry, humorless. The room was heavy with tension as the others stared at him, their expressions ranging from frustration to disbelief. ¡°You¡¯ve known you¡¯ve been on thin ice for a while now. Lose this duel, or fail to arrange the right team, and you lose your status and title as the Red Rocket.¡±

    Silence settled over the room, sharp and suffocating. Marcus¡¯s jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists, ready to unleash his fury, but before he could speak, Anderson, the first-year, broke the stillness.

    ¡°Zephyr,¡± Anderson said, his voice firm and steady, ¡°Piper brought hellfire down on Oceana II. Let me tell you, that ¡®losing streak¡¯ doesn¡¯t mean a damn thing out there.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting a first-year to interject, let alone with such boldness. His composure wavered for a split second before he shook it off, refocusing his gaze on Anderson.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡± Zephyr rubbed his temples, his irritation bleeding through. ¡°She¡¯s known throughout the sector as a beacon of strength. I don¡¯t make these decisions. The higher-ups are forcing my hand on this one.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Margaret scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back, her sharp tone cutting through the room like a knife.

    Zephyr turned his narrowed eyes on her, his voice dropping an octave. ¡°For your information, I fought for leniency. I pleaded with them. But from their perspective, this is becoming an issue of perception. We¡¯re already handling the fallout in the Oceana sector, dealing with planetary bloodlines, ancient rites, and local claims of loyalty. There¡¯s talk that the planet will only follow a blood heir, and even the Emperor must honor that.¡±

    He paused, drawing in a deep breath. ¡°Piper¡¯s recent losses have painted a target on her back. And this duel... this mess is just the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back.¡±

    With those words, the meeting ended. Zephyr dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and the group filed out, the door closing behind them.

    ¡°This is bullshit,¡± Marcus growled as soon as they were clear of the room.

    ¡°Marcus¡­¡± Margaret hissed, glancing over her shoulder. ¡°The door¡¯s not fully closed. He can still hear you.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Marcus snapped, his voice dripping with defiance. ¡°I want him to hear me. Talking about reducing ranks when we barely have the personnel to fill them in the first place? It¡¯s asinine.¡±

    ¡°Marcus, enough,¡± Piper said, her tone curt and biting as she stopped in her tracks, turning to face him.

    ¡°What, Pipes?¡± Marcus shot back, his frustration bubbling over. ¡°We¡¯ve got dozens of pilots scraping by in the basement, barely holding their own, and you¡¯re the one they¡¯re trying to take down? You¡¯re their best¡ª¡±

    ¡°Marcus,¡± Piper¡¯s tone cut through the air like a blade. It was that tone¡ªthe one he rarely heard, reserved for moments when she wasn¡¯t just speaking, but commanding. ¡°Stand down. Now.¡±

    Marcus felt the heat in his limbs drain, his fists unclenching as his arms fell limply to his sides. He didn¡¯t reply, just stared at her, a mix of defiance and reluctance flickering in his eyes.

    Piper exhaled heavily, her shoulders sagging. ¡°Whatever your opinions about my situation, don¡¯t drag Anderson or Sarah into this.¡± She turned, her gaze locking onto the pair lingering awkwardly near the corner, their discomfort palpable. Didn¡¯t they realize they were lieutenants now? They didn¡¯t need permission to act.

    She sighed, running her hands down her face, pushing back the wave of tension threatening to break. ¡°I don¡¯t know why Earth House wants to turn this into some big show, but I¡¯ll handle it. Anderson and Sarah are lieutenants, regardless of their experience. Marcus, you have to respect that.¡±

    Marcus cast a quick, almost guilty glance at the two fresh lieutenants before shifting his weight uncomfortably. ¡°I¡ªI¡­¡± he hesitated, trying to find the right words. ¡°Listen, I do, but it¡¯s just¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re all reeling from a lot right now,¡± Piper interjected, her voice softer, more measured. She reached out, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her lips curving into a gentle smile. ¡°Let me handle this. I¡¯m still the Red Rocket, and they¡¯re going to have to kill me to take that title back.¡±

    She chuckled, trying to ease the tension, but the others didn¡¯t laugh. The heaviness lingered, unbroken.

    Marcus and Margaret exchanged a brief look before taking their leave, leaving Piper alone with Anderson and Sarah. As they walked away, Sarah nudged Anderson sharply, bringing him to attention, though his eyes never left Piper.

    Piper forced her best smile, planting her hands firmly on her hips as she addressed the two. ¡°You two were stationed with me on Oceana II, but I don¡¯t think I ever caught your names.¡±

    She clapped her hands lightly, trying to shake off the awkwardness. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to hear all that, but I know we¡¯re going to get along just fine.¡±

    Anderson returned her smile, though it felt slightly stiff, like he was still processing everything. ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± he said simply, extending a hand. ¡°And for what it¡¯s worth, I don¡¯t know what Zephyr¡¯s going on about. Duels don¡¯t mean shit when you¡¯re in the thick of it.¡±

    ¡°Well, you tore shit up in that tank Warcasket,¡± Piper replied, starting to turn and motioning for them to follow. ¡°I¡¯ll give you that. Listen, I¡¯m starving. How about we grab some food? You can tell me about your experiences, and I¡¯ll walk you through your new roles in the House. Lunch is on me.¡±

    Her smile stayed firmly in place, though every step away from the confrontation felt like a victory in itself.

    Anderson grinned, his enthusiasm bubbling to the surface. ¡°That sounds great, Lieutenant.¡±

    ¡°Piper,¡± she corrected, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°First names are fine. No need to stand on ceremony.¡±

    She descended the stairs ahead of them, her hand brushing the railing as her other hand briefly pressed to her face, smoothing out the exhaustion, anxiety, and guilt she kept hidden from the world. The moment her back was turned, the creases of her carefully constructed mask became visible.

    Anderson watched her go, his grin widening as he muttered under his breath. ¡°Lunch with the real Red Rocket,¡± he mused, almost to himself.

    Sarah groaned, rolling her eyes. ¡°Come on, Anderson. Really?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Anderson shot back, a deep chuckle escaping him. ¡°You¡¯ve got to let a guy dream, especially when he¡¯s been staring at her face on magazine covers for a year and a half.¡±

    Shaking her head, Sarah smirked despite herself. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Anderson shrugged, still chuckling as he started after Piper. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t get it, Sarah. She¡¯s a legend.¡±

    ¡°More like a headache waiting to happen,¡± Sarah quipped, following close behind. But even she couldn¡¯t deny the strange, magnetic pull Piper seemed to have, not just on Anderson but on everyone who crossed her path.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk walked through the crowded streets of Academy City, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his worn-out jacket. The buzz of air trams overhead and the chatter of people around him felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. His head wasn¡¯t in the right place. Not after Oceana II. Not after everything he¡¯d seen.

    He passed by caf¨¦s filled with students, their laughter spilling out into the streets. He passed storefronts glowing with neon lights advertising everything from mechs to midterms. It all blurred together, just noise against the backdrop of his thoughts. He barely even noticed when his feet stopped at a bench near a group of people huddled in a circle, a faint haze of smoke rising above them.

    The smell hit him first¡ªsweet, earthy, sharp. Cannabis.

    His mind flickered to Marcus, grinning as he lit up before the party...

    Joseph¡¯s voice echoed in his mind, too: ¡°Everyone¡¯s got their coping mechanism, Henryk. Mine just happens to smell like a pine forest.¡±

    Even Isaac, usually with his militancy one, had once admitted, ¡°It¡¯s not bad, helps you think... or stop thinking, if you need it to.¡±

    Henryk leaned back, sighing, his eyes drifting to a glowing green sign down the block. A cannabis dispensary.

    ¡°Maybe they were onto something,¡± he muttered, pushing himself off the bench. ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to try, right?¡±

    Inside, the dispensary was sleek and modern, with a weirdly relaxing vibe. Soft ambient music played overhead, and shelves were lined with neatly packaged goods¡ªjars of bud, pre-rolled joints, and even colorful gummies.

    A woman behind the counter greeted him with a customer-service smile that felt just a little too enthusiastic. ¡°Welcome to Green Haven! How can I help you today?¡±

    Henryk cleared his throat, trying to look casual as he leaned on the counter. ¡°Yeah, uh... I was thinking... maybe a pre-roll or two? Something, uh, mellow.¡±

    The woman nodded, grabbing a menu. ¡°Sure thing! We¡¯ve got a great selection. Any preference? Sativa, indica, hybrid? Or are you more into edibles?¡±

    ¡°Uh... yes?¡± Henryk replied, clearly out of his depth. He glanced at the menu and froze. Why did everything sound like a gourmet dessert? Sunset Sherbet? Blue Dream? Cosmic Cookies?

    The woman chuckled. ¡°First-timer, huh? No worries, let me help you out.¡± She reached for a jar, twisting it open and wafting the scent toward him. ¡°This one¡¯s called Cloud Walker. Great for stress relief.¡±

    Henryk nodded, trying to act like he knew what the hell he was doing. ¡°Yeah, Cloud Walker. That sounds... chill.¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± she said. ¡°I just need to see your ID.¡±

    Henryk hesitated, then pulled out his Academy ID and slid it across the counter.

    The woman froze, her smile fading. ¡°Oh... honey, this isn¡¯t gonna work. You have to be twenty-one. Academy City regulations.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Henryk blinked. ¡°I¡¯m nineteen! That¡¯s close enough.¡±

    ¡°Close doesn¡¯t cut it, sweetie,¡± she said, sliding the ID back to him. ¡°Rules are rules.¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± Henryk protested. ¡°You¡¯re telling me I can pilot a Warcasket, but I can¡¯t buy a joint?¡±

    She gave him a sympathetic look. ¡°I don¡¯t make the rules. You want weed? Come back in two years.¡±

    Henryk groaned, running a hand through his hair. ¡°This is bullshit,¡± he muttered under his breath.

    ¡°Hey, I hear ya,¡± she said, smirking as she leaned on the counter. ¡°But if it makes you feel better, we have CBD products that are totally legal for under twenty-ones.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, because a gummy that won¡¯t get me high is exactly what I need,¡± Henryk snapped, rolling his eyes.

    The woman didn¡¯t respond, just gestured toward the door. ¡°Have a nice day.¡±

    Before he could argue further, a massive security guard appeared, arms crossed and glaring. ¡°You heard her.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯m leaving!¡± Henryk raised his hands in surrender as he backed out of the store. As soon as he hit the sidewalk, he muttered, ¡°Where the hell am I supposed to find weed now?¡±

    A group of students passing by chuckled, one of them giving him a knowing look. ¡°Try the park, man,¡± one of them said with a grin. ¡°There¡¯s always someone selling out there.¡±

    Henryk sighed, shaking his head. ¡°This city¡¯s insane.¡±

    And with that, he shoved his hands back in his pockets and started walking again.

    Henryk strolled into the park, his boots crunching on the gravel pathway as the faint sound of children laughing mixed with the rustle of leaves in the late afternoon breeze. He scanned the area, looking for anyone who might be a little too laid-back, a little too sketchy. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure how to approach this situation¡ªhow does one casually ask for weed in an open public space?

    His gaze fell on a family sitting on a picnic blanket not too far off. A mother was handing sandwiches to her kids, their excited chatter rising above the murmur of the park. Henryk slowed, his steps faltering as he stared.

    A pang hit him deep in his chest. His mind drifted to his mother, her warm smile as she called him in for dinner back home. His sisters, giggling as they begged him to play games or help them with school projects.

    ¡°I miss you guys,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky. ¡°I just... I want to go home.¡±

    The ache in his chest deepened as his mind betrayed him, dragging him back to the horrors of Oceana II. The screams of soldiers and civilians. The relentless, bone-chilling shrieks of the GrimGore. Blood splattered across his visor, his hands gripping his Warcasket¡¯s controls with terrifying precision. His blades tearing through flesh like it was nothing, like he was made for it.

    A flash of his own face entered his mind¡¯s eye¡ªdistorted, wild, almost gleeful as he slaughtered creature after creature, the battlefield a haze of chaos and carnage.

    ¡°Why?¡± he whispered, his breath hitching. ¡°Why am I so good at this?¡±

    He stopped walking, staring at the ground as his fists clenched. ¡°I¡¯m just a kid from some backwater colony,¡± he murmured to himself. ¡°I used to ride bikes, play video games after school... I kissed my sisters¡¯ scraped knees and wiped away their tears. Mom didn¡¯t even want me fighting. She¡¯d lose her damn mind if she knew what I was doing.¡±

    The thought of her made his chest tighten. ¡°So why am I here?¡± he muttered. ¡°Is this all I¡¯m good for? Fighting? Killing?¡±

    The thought made his stomach turn, but something snapped him out of it¡ªa familiar figure sitting on a bench. Red skin. A school uniform. Adaline.

    She sat with a sandwich in hand, taking small bites while her legs swung idly. Henryk approached, shoving the weight of his thoughts aside.

    ¡°Adaline?¡± he called out.

    She looked up, her golden eyes lighting up when she recognized him. ¡°Henryk!¡±

    He managed a smile, sliding onto the bench beside her. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you here. Skipping class, too?¡±

    Adaline chuckled softly, adjusting her uniform. ¡°Not skipping, just... taking a break. Needed some air after everything, you know?¡±

    Henryk nodded, leaning back. ¡°Yeah, I get that. You doing okay after, uh... everything with Kieren?¡±

    Adaline¡¯s gaze softened as she took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. ¡°Thanks, by the way.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Henryk asked, sitting down beside her.

    ¡°For saving me.¡± Her voice wavered slightly. ¡°That day... with Kieren. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been so scared in my life.¡±

    Henryk shifted uncomfortably. ¡°You don¡¯t have to thank me for that. Anyone would¡¯ve done the same.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said firmly. ¡°Not everyone would¡¯ve. You didn¡¯t even hesitate. You just... charged in.¡±

    Henryk glanced at her, noting the tremble in her hands as she held the sandwich. ¡°How are you holding up?¡±

    Adaline took a deep breath, forcing a smile. ¡°I¡¯m okay. It was scary, sure, but I¡¯m getting through it. I¡¯m more scared of what happened after.¡±

    Henryk raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I overheard my sister,¡± Adaline said, her voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°She went off on Ed. Like, really tore into him for letting Kieren escape and almost¡ª¡± Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped at her eyes. ¡°For almost letting me get... you know.¡±

    Henryk frowned but managed a small laugh. ¡°Yeah, sounds like Ed got an earful. Probably deserved it.¡±

    Adaline looked at him, her lips twitching into a small smile despite her watery eyes. ¡°You laugh about everything, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Gotta laugh to keep from crying,¡± Henryk said with a shrug, leaning back on the bench. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re okay now, right? That¡¯s what matters.¡±

    Adaline nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. ¡°You remind me of my sister sometimes. Always trying to act like nothing gets to her.¡±

    Henryk smirked. ¡°Guess that makes sense. You kind of remind me of my sisters, too.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Adaline¡¯s eyes lit up.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Henryk hesitated, then added, ¡°They¡¯re younger than me. I used to kiss their scrapes better, carry them on my shoulders... stuff like that. Maybe that¡¯s why I couldn¡¯t just stand there when Kieren¡ªwell, you know.¡±

    Adaline stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, a real one this time. ¡°They¡¯re lucky to have a brother like you.¡±

    Henryk rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a rare flush of embarrassment. ¡°Yeah, well, don¡¯t let it go to your head, okay? I¡¯m not exactly perfect.¡±

    ¡°Who is?¡± Adaline said with a shrug, taking another bite of her sandwich.

    They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the park bustling around them. For the first time in what felt like forever, Henryk¡¯s chest felt a little lighter.

    ¡°¡­also my father to,¡± Adaline offhandly spoke.

    Henryk blinked, caught off guard by Adaline¡¯s sudden shift in demeanor. ¡°Your father, Sir William?¡± he repeated, the name unfamiliar yet carrying a weight he couldn¡¯t quite place.

    Adaline nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap as she fiddled with the edge of her uniform. ¡°Bea has her... issues with him. Rightfully so, honestly. But he was different with me. Maybe because I was younger, maybe because I didn¡¯t question him as much.¡± She hesitated, her voice softening. ¡°He told me stories. Tales of quests, battles... victories. Thousands of people¡ªmaybe even tens of thousands¡ªowe their lives to my father.¡±

    Henryk tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. ¡°He sounds like... quite the guy.¡±

    Adaline¡¯s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. ¡°He was. He wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªfar from it. But the Knights of Mars... they were something once. Not innocent, not by a long shot, but their deeds were true. They fought for people, for colonies like yours. But now?¡± She trailed off, her voice growing quieter. ¡°Their dishonor is all the galaxy sees. The fleeing of their citizens. The death of their king. Their legacy is stained.¡±

    Henryk leaned back on the bench, soaking in her words. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard a bit about that. But not much. My colony was far off. We didn¡¯t get much news unless it came through the occasional trader. And even then, it was mostly rumors.¡±

    Adaline looked up at him, her expression softening. ¡°That¡¯s why I see hope in you, Henryk. You¡¯re different. Arthur¡¯s different. You guys... you could be the start of something good. A new generation of Knights. Knights of Mars.¡±

    Her words settled over him, warm and heavy, like a mantle he wasn¡¯t sure he was ready to wear. He stared at her, his chest tightening as the implications of her words sank in. The start of something good. A new generation. Could they be that? Could he be that?

    ¡°That¡¯s... a lot to take in,¡± Henryk admitted, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I mean, being a hero, a Knight... It¡¯s what you dream about as a kid. But this? It¡¯s real. It¡¯s bloody, and it¡¯s messy, and people die. Sometimes, I wonder if¡ª¡± He stopped himself, shaking his head. ¡°Never mind.¡±

    Adaline tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°If what?¡±

    Henryk hesitated, but her gaze was unrelenting. ¡°If... that¡¯s all I¡¯m good for. Fighting. Killing. I¡¯ve never been the smartest guy, or the fastest, or the most creative. But put me in a cockpit or give me a weapon, and I just... know what to do. Like it¡¯s instinct. Sometimes, it scares me.¡±

    Adaline was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, softly, she said, ¡°You¡¯re not just a weapon, Henryk. You¡¯re more than that.¡±

    He opened his mouth to respond, but her sudden change in tone stopped him. Her eyes had widened slightly, and there was a strange tension in her posture.

    ¡°Henryk,¡± she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Do you know about the darkness of Mars?¡±

    Henryk blinked, thrown by the question. ¡°The what?¡±

    Adaline leaned closer, her voice urgent. ¡°The darkness. The truth about Mars. Do you know?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Henryk shook his head, confused and uneasy. ¡°My colony was isolated. We didn¡¯t get much news, and since I¡¯ve been here, I haven¡¯t had access to the internet or anything like that. I came here with practically nothing. Just the clothes on my back.¡±

    Adaline stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, quietly, she asked, ¡°Have you ever heard of the Rubicon Tapes?¡±

    Henryk frowned, the name unfamiliar and yet deeply unsettling. ¡°No. What are they?¡±

    Adaline hesitated, her gaze darting around as if she feared they were being watched. ¡°They¡¯re... they¡¯re recordings. Proof of what Mars really was. What the Knights really did.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Henryk pressed, his unease growing.

    Adaline shifted on the bench, her gaze narrowing slightly as she tilted her head toward Henryk. ¡°Henryk,¡± she said bluntly, ¡°why haven¡¯t you ever heard anything real about Mars or the Knights?¡±

    Henryk blinked, caught off guard by her directness. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been living with them for how long now? Months?¡± Adaline pressed, leaning forward. ¡°And yet you don¡¯t know about their history, their methods, the real truth about them. Why is that?¡±

    Henryk sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Because they¡¯re a secretive bunch, okay? Even living with them, they won¡¯t tell us squires certain things. It¡¯s like they¡¯ve got these locked doors, and no matter how hard you knock, they won¡¯t open them.¡±

    Adaline¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°That¡¯s because Ed¡ªand people like him¡ªkeep that knowledge for the true bloods.¡±

    Henryk frowned, his brow furrowing. ¡°True bloods?¡±

    Adaline nodded. ¡°Yeah. Those born into Martian nobility, raised on Mars or in its colonies. You? You¡¯re an outsider to them, Henryk. No matter how good you are, no matter how hard you try, they¡¯ll always see you as someone who doesn¡¯t belong.¡± Her tone softened slightly, a touch of sympathy creeping in. ¡°It¡¯s not fair, but that¡¯s how they think.¡±

    Henryk looked away, the weight of her words sinking in. ¡°That explains a lot,¡± he muttered. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t make it any less... infuriating.¡±

    Adaline hesitated before speaking again. ¡°There¡¯s more, though. Martian Military Supremacy was a heavily guarded secret. From what my father told me, even the Emperor himself might not have known the full extent of their power. And he feared them for it.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s head snapped toward her. ¡°Feared them? The Emperor?¡±

    Adaline nodded. ¡°The Knights of Mars were the Imperial Family¡¯s hound dogs for centuries. Their loyalty was unquestionable¡ªor at least, that¡¯s what everyone thought. But their power? That was something else entirely.¡±

    She paused, her gaze growing distant. ¡°There was this Saturn General... I can¡¯t recall his name. But he witnessed something that shook him to his core. A Knight of Mars of high seniority¡ªa High Lord, second only to the King himself¡ªwas seen with his... Battle Maiden.¡±

    ¡°Battle Maiden?¡± Henryk repeated, the unfamiliar term hanging in the air.

    Adaline nodded again. ¡°Yes. Battle Maidens were usually the second or third daughters of Martian noble households. The Knights were predominantly male, but there were women whose battle zeal matched the Knights¡¯. For those girls, becoming a Battle Maiden was their only path.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°So... they sent girls into battle? Just like that?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just ¡®like that,¡¯ Henryk,¡± Adaline replied, her voice steady but tinged with bitterness. ¡°It was tradition. It was expected. And if Mars hadn¡¯t been destroyed, it¡¯s highly likely my father would¡¯ve pushed me toward that fate.¡±

    Henryk clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. ¡°That¡¯s... that¡¯s disgusting. How could they be okay with something like that? With sending girls to the frontlines like that?¡±

    Adaline hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. ¡°Because it¡¯s what they believed in. The Martians were cruel, Henryk. They valued strength above all else.¡±

    His anger bubbled over, his voice rising. ¡°When? When would they start this? Training these... these girls to become killers?¡±

    Adaline hesitated again, the weight of her answer evident in her expression. ¡°Thirteen,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Sometimes fourteen.¡±

    Henryk recoiled as if she¡¯d slapped him. ¡°Thirteen? Thirteen?¡± he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief and anger. ¡°And Ed and the others¡ªArthur, Bea¡ªthey all knew about this? They kept this from us?¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t keep it from you,¡± Adaline said softly. ¡°You just weren¡¯t told. There¡¯s a difference.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s mind raced, flashes of his own past and his younger self flickering before his eyes. The thought of someone taking a thirteen-year-old¡ªsomeone like his own sisters¡ªand forcing them into a life of violence made his stomach churn.

    ¡°They were kids,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to Adaline. ¡°Just kids.¡±

    Adaline nodded, her expression somber. ¡°The Martians didn¡¯t see it that way. They saw potential. They saw soldiers.¡±

    Henryk stared at her, his anger simmering beneath the surface. ¡°They were monsters,¡± he said quietly. ¡°If this is what they were, then they weren¡¯t knights. They weren¡¯t heroes. They were just... monsters.¡±

    Adaline looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. ¡°That¡¯s why we have to be different, Henryk. You, me, Arthur... we have to make sure that what comes next is better. Otherwise, it¡¯s not worth saving.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he paced the park¡¯s path. His mind reeled from what Adaline had told him, anger radiating off him like heat from a furnace. ¡°Thirteen,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°They were training kids... girls... at thirteen.¡± His voice rose with each word, shaking with fury. ¡°This whole time¡ªthis whole time¡ªI thought the Knights were supposed to be better. But no, they¡¯re just a bunch of liars and cowards, hiding behind secrets and bullshit traditions.¡±

    Adaline reached out, trying to steady him. ¡°Henryk, calm down. I get it. I do. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± he snapped, jerking away from her touch. ¡°You don¡¯t get it. You grew up with all this. You¡¯re part of it. The rest of us? The squires? We bleed for them. I¡¯ve drawn blood for them, and what do I get in return? Lies. Secrets. Not even the decency of the truth!¡±

    Adaline¡¯s face tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. ¡°I¡¯m telling you the truth now because someone has to. Because Ed¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bring Ed into this!¡± Henryk shouted, whirling on her. ¡°He¡¯s not my friend. None of them are. You think Arthur¡¯s my buddy? That Bea sees me as an equal? Hell no. They¡¯re just like everyone else here. Keeping their stupid secrets and looking down on us because we¡¯re not ¡®true bloods.¡¯¡±

    Adaline opened her mouth to respond, but Henryk steamrolled over her. ¡°And the academy? Don¡¯t even get me started on this shitshow. It¡¯s a glorified meat grinder, churning out people just good enough to die for their cause. They talk about honor and duty, but it¡¯s all bullshit. They don¡¯t care about us.¡±

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Adaline said firmly, stepping in front of him. ¡°You¡¯re angry, and you have every right to be. But Ed is trying to change things. He wants to do better. That¡¯s why I¡¯m telling you this¡ªso you understand that things can be different.¡±

    Henryk barked a bitter laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Different? Oh, yeah, sure. That¡¯s why he keeps me and the others in the dark, right? Real stand-up guy, that Ed.¡±

    Before Adaline could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and held up a hand. ¡°Hold on, Henryk. It¡¯s Bea.¡±

    ¡°Of course it is,¡± he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground as she answered.

    Adaline stepped a few paces away, her voice soft as she spoke into the phone. ¡°Bea? What¡¯s going on?¡±

    Henryk tuned out the words, his mind too wrapped up in his anger. He stared at a patch of grass, his vision blurring as flashes of Oceana II, the GrimGore, and Kieren¡¯s mangled form swirled in his head.

    Adaline¡¯s voice pulled him back to the present. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s a relief,¡± she said, glancing at Henryk. ¡°Thanks for letting me know, Bea. I¡¯ll tell him.¡± She ended the call and turned back to him, her expression a mix of relief and hesitation. ¡°Kieren¡¯s out of the worrying stage. He¡¯s stable now. He just needs to sleep it off.¡±

    Henryk chuckled darkly, shaking his head. ¡°Great. Maybe he¡¯ll do us all a favor and just... not wake up.¡±

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Adaline¡¯s voice was sharp, disapproving. ¡°That¡¯s not funny.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a little funny,¡± he shot back, a mocking grin on his face. ¡°Come on, Adaline. The guy ate Arthur¡¯s ear.¡±

    She crossed her arms, her disapproving glare boring into him. ¡°That¡¯s not the point, and you know it.¡±

    Henryk sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know. Fine, sorry.¡± He gestured vaguely. ¡°So, what now? You gonna tell me more about these lovely Martian traditions?¡±

    Adaline hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded. ¡°If you want to know, I¡¯ll tell you. You do deserve the truth.¡±

    Henryk smirked, though there was little humor in it. ¡°Damn right I do. So, let¡¯s hear it. Enough of this lying and secrecy crap.¡±

    Adaline¡¯s gaze softened, a small, sad smile crossing her face. ¡°Alright, Henryk. But this isn¡¯t going to be easy to hear.¡±

    He shrugged, a bitter edge to his voice. ¡°Nothing about this place ever is.¡±

    The two of them sat back down on the bench, the weight of the conversation settling over them like a heavy blanket. Henryk leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, as Adaline began to speak, her voice low and steady.

    The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park as the chapter of secrets began to unravel.

 Chapter 10 - Team Battle Duel Declaration

    <u>House Mars</u>

    ¡°So, he¡¯s going to be alright?¡± Mateo¡¯s voice wavered, his hands clasped together as though in prayer. His gaze stayed fixed on Ed, the question hanging in the air like a desperate plea for hope.

    Ed¡¯s smile was warm, a flicker of reassurance that softened the tense lines of his face. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s going to make a full recovery. Better than ever, even.¡± A soft chuckle followed, but his eyes darted briefly toward the door as Wilbur and Franklin stepped in, their presence barely rustling the room¡¯s heavy atmosphere.

    The two squires were young, their expressions an awkward mix of relief and lingering guilt. Wilbur leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed in a show of ease that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s good to hear. I mean, it could¡¯ve been worse. A lot worse.¡± His voice carried the weight of someone trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

    Franklin, always the more restless of the pair, ran a hand through his unruly curls, his movements sharp and jittery. ¡°Yeah. Honestly, I was starting to think we¡¯d be dealing with expulsion. Or worse¡ª¡± His voice hitched. ¡°¡ªblood on our hands.¡±

    Ed¡¯s chuckle was soft but carried an edge of finality. He shook his head. ¡°No one¡¯s getting expelled. No one¡¯s bleeding out either. Let¡¯s not get too dramatic.¡±

    Wilbur¡¯s lips twitched into a grin. ¡°Can you blame us? After last week¡­ felt like we were one bad decision away from disaster.¡±

    Before Ed could answer, hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, sharp and uneven like someone half-running, half-tripping. The door swung open, and Isaac and Joseph stumbled inside, their faces flushed and their breathing uneven.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Ed called out, lifting a hand in greeting. ¡°Where¡¯ve you two been?¡±

    Isaac rolled his eyes and dumped his bag onto a nearby bench with a thud. ¡°Classes. You know, that thing we¡¯re supposed to be doing when we¡¯re not dealing with¡­ well, everything else.¡±

    Joseph, a step behind, added, ¡°Speaking of chaos, what¡¯s this emergency meeting about? Did something happen?¡±

    Ed opened his mouth, but before a word could leave him, the door creaked open again. This time, the room seemed to still. Arthur stepped in, his uniform damp at the cuffs, the faint stink of rain clinging to him. His shaggy hair hung unevenly over his brow, and a thick bandage curled around his ear, dark with dried blood at the edges.

    ¡°Holy hell,¡± Joseph whispered, his voice slicing through the quiet. ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡±

    Isaac¡¯s eyes widened, his gaze tracing the jagged wound peeking just beneath the bandage. ¡°You look like you walked out of a medieval jousting match.¡±

    Arthur smirked faintly, his expression a half-hearted attempt at bravado. ¡°¡¯Tis but a scratch.¡±

    Joseph burst out laughing, doubling over and slapping his thigh. ¡°Oh, my God. I¡¯ve been showing him Monty Python, and now he thinks he¡¯s in on the joke.¡±

    Arthur tilted his head, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. ¡°I am unsure what jest you speak of. Though I did admire the knight¡¯s unyielding valor, the rest seemed¡­ peculiar.¡± He scratched at his chin, eyes narrowing in genuine contemplation. ¡°Why would anyone quarrel over a shrubbery? Surely, it holds no value.¡±

    Isaac snorted, the sound sharp enough to draw every eye in the room. ¡°Wait, you actually showed him the movie? Dude, Arthur¡¯s got the mind of a medieval serf¡ªhow¡¯s he supposed to get satire?¡±

    Arthur stiffened, his arms crossing over his chest like a knight bracing for battle. ¡°I assure thee, I understood much! The gallant knights sought their holy grail, yet their journey was rife with strange obstacles. It seems the humor lay in its absurdity.¡±

    Joseph chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s the gist of it, buddy, but you missed like¡­ 90% of the comedy.¡±

    Wilbur leaned casually against the wall, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Sounds about right. And here I thought you were supposed to be our ¡®modernized knight.¡¯¡±

    Arthur straightened, his expression hardening into something like defiance. ¡°I am no mere jester, but neither am I blind to wit. Perhaps thou shouldst give me more credit.¡±

    ¡°Right, right,¡± Isaac said, waving him off with a lazy gesture. ¡°Anyway, has anyone seen Henryk, August, or Kieren? If this meeting¡¯s so damn important, where are they?¡±

    Ed sighed, his shoulders sagging as he rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°August should still be in his late class. As for Henryk¡­¡± He glanced at his watch, a faint crease forming between his brows. ¡°You know how he is. No phone. No way to contact him unless he decides to show up.¡±

    Joseph groaned, throwing his head back with an exaggerated sigh. ¡°God, he¡¯s so impossible sometimes. And Kieren? What about him?¡±

    Ed hesitated, his voice dropping a shade quieter, like the tone one takes when delivering bad news. ¡°Kieren...¡± The name hung in the air, a loaded pause that pressed down on the room like a growing weight. ¡°Well¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish, the door slammed open with a deafening crack that echoed through the room. A gust of wind carried the scent of rain inside, the metallic tang of storm-soaked stone sharp and cold. Outside, rain lashed against the cobblestones, their sheen reflecting the flicker of the hallway lights.

    A figure loomed in the doorway, drenched and imposing. It was Henryk, his dark coat clinging to his frame, water streaming off him in rivulets. His face, sharp and angular, was a mask of barely restrained fury, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter.

    The room stilled. Even the air seemed to hold its breath as his boots struck the tiles with heavy, deliberate thuds. He stopped in the middle of the room, his gaze sweeping over the group like the edge of a blade.

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Ed began cautiously, his tone measured, like someone approaching a snarling dog. ¡°You¡¯re¡ª¡±

    ¡°Save it,¡± Henryk snarled, his voice low and crackling with venom. In one sharp motion, he pulled off his coat and flung it onto the bench, water droplets scattering across the room like shrapnel. ¡°Where. Is. Kieren?¡±

    Joseph¡¯s hands shot up, palms outward, his tone light but wary. ¡°Whoa, calm down, man. We just got here. What the hell¡¯s your problem?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s glare snapped to Joseph, and for a moment, it seemed he might lash out. His knuckles flexed at his sides, white against the dark fabric of his soaked sleeves. But then he shut his eyes, his chest rising as he dragged in a slow, deliberate breath and let it out in a measured exhale.

    ¡°My problem,¡± he said, his words ground out between gritted teeth, ¡°is that I¡¯ve been running around this entire campus looking for answers, and all I¡¯ve gotten is silence.¡± His eyes opened, cold and steely as they locked on Ed. ¡°So, I¡¯ll ask again: where is Kieren?¡±

    The tension in the room thickened, heavy and stifling like the air before a thunderstorm. Ed stepped forward, his movements measured, his voice calm but edged with urgency. ¡°Henryk, listen. Kieren¡¯s fine. He¡¯s recovering. I was just about to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fine?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice cut through Ed¡¯s words like a blade, sharp and rising. His anger coiled around each syllable, barely restrained. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say? After everything that¡¯s happened?¡±

    Arthur moved before anyone else could react. His hands hung loose at his sides, but there was a quiet authority in his stance. ¡°Peace, friend,¡± he said, his voice steady and deliberate. ¡°This is no time for discord.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes flicked to Arthur, lingering on the bandage wrapping his ear, the faint stain of dried blood at its edge. His scoff was low and bitter, shaking his head with a slow, deliberate motion. ¡°Figures,¡± he said, his tone biting. ¡°You lot are always so quick to brush things off. Always ready to slap a bandage on the wound and pretend it doesn¡¯t still hurt. But not this time.¡±

    Ed stepped forward again, cutting the space between them. His voice was firm now, the calm giving way to something sterner. ¡°Henryk, what¡¯s going on? This isn¡¯t like you.¡± He held the other man¡¯s gaze, unflinching. ¡°You¡¯re usually the one keeping things together. What¡¯s got you so wound up?¡±

    For a moment, Henryk said nothing, his glare fixed on Ed as though the weight of his stare alone could force him to understand. His lips tightened, his jaw working as if he were swallowing down a torrent of words too volatile to unleash.

    The room¡¯s silence was broken by the sound of the door opening again, the creak of its hinges cutting through the stillness like a splinter of glass. Axel stepped in first, the clack of his boots steady and self-assured. His training fatigues clung to him, the wooden practice sword at his belt swinging with his stride. He carried the confidence of someone fresh from the sparring grounds, his presence unapologetically loud against the charged quiet.

    Trailing behind him was August¡ªbetter known as Fleeboy¡ªdwarfed in both stature and demeanor. His school uniform was slightly rumpled, and his bag strap hung loose over one shoulder as if he¡¯d thrown it on in a rush. His eyes darted nervously across the room, wide and skittish, like a rabbit stepping into a den of wolves.

    ¡°Did we miss something?¡± Axel asked, one eyebrow cocked as he surveyed the room. His voice was casual, but his sharp gaze took in the tension like a blade finding a crack in armor.

    Fleeboy hesitated in the doorway, his hands fumbling with the cuffs of his sleeves. ¡°I, uh¡­ I-it seems l-like we did,¡± he stammered, his words tumbling over each other. His voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°W-what¡¯s g-going on?¡±

    Before anyone could respond, Ty appeared in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame with his arms crossed. His ever-present smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, a glint of detached curiosity in his eyes as they swept across the room. ¡°Hell of a show I¡¯ve walked into,¡± he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. ¡°Mind filling me in?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s jaw tightened, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap, but Ed raised a hand, cutting him off before he could explode. ¡°Fine,¡± Ed said, his tone sharp enough to slice through the tension. ¡°Everyone¡¯s here now, so let me explain.¡±

    He took a deep breath, the weight of authority settling into his voice like an iron mantle. ¡°Kieren and the other squires decided it¡¯d be a good idea to pull a prank on House Venus. But it backfired. Badly. Kieren was injured¡ªseriously injured¡ªin the process.¡±

    Axel straightened, his easy confidence evaporating as a frown creased his brow. ¡°How bad are we talking?¡±

    ¡°Bad enough that we had to act fast,¡± Ed said, his expression hardening into something unyielding. ¡°As president, I made the executive decision to give Kieren the spikes.¡±

    The room fell silent, the words crashing down like a hammer. Stunned expressions replaced the simmering anger, and even Ty¡¯s smirk faltered.

    Arthur, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, stepped forward. His shoulders were squared, his face darkening like a storm brewing on the horizon. ¡°What?¡± His voice was low, the kind of dangerous calm that set the hairs on the back of the neck standing.

    Ed turned to him, steady but unwavering. ¡°Arthur, your spikes have accepted Kieren. When he wakes up, he¡¯ll become a hybrid¡ªa true Martian Knight.¡±

    Reaching into his coat, Ed pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. Its edges were worn, the ink on it dark and meticulous. With deliberate care, he unfolded it and began to read aloud. The decree, written in the archaic and ceremonial language of the Knights, rang out with the weight of tradition. It spoke of Kieren¡¯s ascension, his bravery, and his sacrifice, every word dripping with the gravitas of an ancient rite.

    When Ed¡¯s voice faded, the silence that followed was deafening, thick with unspoken rage.

    Arthur¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, trembling with barely restrained fury. ¡°This is outrageous!¡± he bellowed, the words ricocheting off the stone walls like cannon fire. ¡°Those spikes have been in my family for generations¡ªpassed from father to son, an unbroken line. I had to inherit mine from my brother after¡ª¡± His voice caught, a crack in the armor of his anger. He shook his head, glaring at Ed with burning intensity. ¡°And now you¡¯ve given them to¡­ to some kid from a normal world! He doesn¡¯t deserve them!¡±

    Ed met Arthur¡¯s glare without flinching, his tone calm but resolute, like steel sheathed in velvet. ¡°Arthur, Kieren¡¯s life was at stake. There wasn¡¯t time to debate lineage or worthiness. He would have died.¡±

    Arthur opened his mouth, his rebuttal boiling just beneath the surface, but before he could speak, the door swung open again. The heavy creak cut through the tension like a knife.

    Vinnie entered, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes scanning the room with the precision of a hawk. His boots echoed on the floor with each deliberate step, the sound slicing through the oppressive silence.

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Vinnie said, his voice low but resolute, each word landing with the weight of finality. ¡°Kieren¡¯s life was at stake. But let¡¯s not pretend this decision doesn¡¯t come with consequences.¡±

    Arthur turned to Vinnie, his fury radiating like heat from a forge. ¡°You¡¯re damn right it does! Those spikes weren¡¯t meant for him. Do you have any idea¡ª¡±

    Vinnie raised a hand, cutting through Arthur¡¯s tirade with quiet authority. ¡°Arthur, calm down.¡± His voice was measured but carried an edge that demanded attention. He shifted his gaze to Ed, his expression hardening. ¡°Ed¡¯s decision saved Kieren, sure. But it¡¯s not just about keeping him breathing, is it?¡±

    Arthur froze, his anger momentarily checked by the change in Vinnie¡¯s tone. The room seemed to shrink, the air growing heavier.

    Vinnie¡¯s eyes narrowed as they locked onto Ed. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell him, did you? The full story?¡±

    Ed¡¯s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. ¡°He¡¯ll be alive,¡± he said, his voice clipped. ¡°That¡¯s all that matters.¡±

    Vinnie¡¯s laugh was cold, sharp as shattered glass. ¡°Alive? That¡¯s your line? You¡¯ve completely altered the course of his life, and you think you can leave it at that? Those spikes¡ªthose worms¡ªaren¡¯t just some miracle cure. They¡¯ll change him, Ed. Stronger, faster, sure. Maybe even something beyond human. But you think that¡¯s a gift?¡±

    ¡°It is a gift,¡± Ed snapped, taking a step forward, his presence imposing. ¡°Kieren will have a second chance at life. A chance he wouldn¡¯t have had otherwise.¡±

    Vinnie shook his head, his laugh more bitter this time, tinged with disbelief. ¡°A second chance? At what cost? The spikes aren¡¯t free, Ed. There¡¯s always a price. You know that as well as I do.¡±

    Axel frowned, crossing his arms. ¡°What burdens?¡± he asked, his skepticism clear. ¡°You¡¯re being dramatic.¡±

    Vinnie didn¡¯t even glance at him, his focus unrelenting on Ed. ¡°The worms. The spikes. They¡¯re not just tools. They¡¯re alive. They have their own will, their own hunger. Once they take root, they don¡¯t just give¡ªthey take. And they take in ways you can¡¯t understand until it¡¯s too late.¡± He paused, letting his words hang in the suffocating silence. ¡°Kieren might survive, but he¡¯ll carry that burden for the rest of his life. And you think he¡¯s ready for that?¡±

    Ed¡¯s face darkened, the weight of Vinnie¡¯s accusations pressing down on him. ¡°He didn¡¯t have a choice,¡± he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

    ¡°And neither did you,¡± Vinnie shot back, his tone sharp as a blade. ¡°But don¡¯t stand there and pretend this was some noble act of mercy. You saved his body, sure. But his soul?¡± He shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s another story entirely.¡±

    The room fell into a stunned, oppressive silence, the gravity of Vinnie¡¯s words sinking in. Arthur¡¯s rage simmered just beneath the surface, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Axel, Ty, and Fleeboy exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado visibly shaken. Even Henryk, still brimming with anger, seemed momentarily thrown off balance.

    Vinnie exhaled, his voice softer now but no less cutting. ¡°Nothing in this world is free,¡± he said, his tone carrying a weight that seemed to press against each of them. ¡°And the power of the worms? It¡¯s not something you mess with lightly.¡±

    Ty shifted uneasily near the back, his pale face betraying his discomfort. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, his voice low and wavering as he muttered, ¡°Well¡­ at least Kieren¡¯s okay.¡± It sounded more like a question than a statement, his words barely audible over the growing noise.

    Joseph stood rigid, arms crossed tight against his chest like armor. His glare burned into Ed, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he fought to keep his temper in check. He leaned toward Isaac, his voice a low growl meant to avoid adding to the chaos. ¡°What do you think about all this?¡±

    Isaac yawned, exaggerated and unapologetic, before stretching his arms over his head. ¡°What do I think?¡± he said, his tone so casual it bordered on insulting. ¡°I think knights of a dead world don¡¯t matter much.¡±

    Joseph blinked, stunned by the nonchalance. ¡°That¡¯s it? You¡¯re not angry?¡±

    Isaac shrugged, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Not really. My dad was a Knight, remember? He told me the same thing: nothing in the universe comes free. This?¡± He gestured lazily toward Ed and the others. ¡°This is just another reminder. You survive, you adapt, or you die. No point losing sleep over it.¡±

    Joseph stared at him, his disbelief hardening into frustration. ¡°You¡¯re impossible,¡± he muttered through gritted teeth.

    Isaac¡¯s grin widened, infuriatingly smug. ¡°That¡¯s why you love me.¡± He turned and strolled toward the door, waving a hand dismissively over his shoulder. ¡°Let me know how it shakes out. Or don¡¯t. I really couldn¡¯t give less of a shit.¡±

    Joseph¡¯s fists clenched, his knuckles white, as he watched Isaac vanish through the doorway. The room, meanwhile, dissolved into chaos, voices overlapping in an escalating storm of frustration and anger.

    Arthur¡¯s voice sliced through the uproar, sharp and furious. ¡°This is a disgrace!¡± He stepped forward, pointing a trembling finger at Ed, his face flushed with rage. ¡°You¡¯ve turned my family¡¯s legacy into some kind of¡­ experiment! Those spikes were meant for true Martian Knights¡ªnot some reckless child from nowhere!¡±

    Axel stepped into the fray, his presence like a sudden gust of icy wind. His tone was grim, his words steady but unrelenting. ¡°Arthur¡¯s right,¡± he said, his eyes fixed on Ed. ¡°If Feudal Mars still stood, this decision would¡¯ve destroyed you. They¡¯d have stripped your family¡¯s honors, dragged you through the streets, and probably lynched you naked for disrespecting the Order.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. ¡°And honestly? They¡¯d have been justified.¡±

    The room recoiled as if struck, the raw truth of Axel¡¯s statement cutting deeper than any blade. Henryk, standing near the edge of the group, went still. His fists curled tightly at his sides, trembling with barely contained fury.

    Mateo¡¯s voice rose above the stunned silence, his outrage breaking like a wave. ¡°You¡¯re saying Kieren should¡¯ve just died?¡± he spat, his words hot with disbelief and anger. ¡°You¡¯d let him suffer¡ªor worse¡ªjust to cling to some outdated code? What the hell kind of logic is that?¡±

    Axel¡¯s gaze was frigid, unflinching. ¡°Better a dead squire than a corrupted Knight. That¡¯s how Mars worked. That¡¯s how it should still work.¡±

    Henryk stepped forward, his voice slicing through the room like a well-honed blade. ¡°That¡¯s sick,¡± he spat. ¡°You¡¯d rather uphold some ancient tradition than save someone¡¯s life? What kind of Knight does that make you?¡±

    Axel turned fully toward him, his towering frame casting a shadow that seemed to grow darker under the dim light. His spikes caught the faint glow, sharp and metallic, a cruel reminder of his power. ¡°What kind of Knight?¡± Axel repeated, his tone dripping with scorn. ¡°A real one. Not someone playing pretend, scrambling to grasp the weight of Mars.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s jaw tightened, his shoulders squaring as he took another step forward, closing the gap. Though dwarfed by Axel, his defiance was unyielding. ¡°Pretending?¡± His voice was a low, venomous hiss. ¡°I don¡¯t have to pretend to know what¡¯s right. You¡¯re not a Knight, Axel. You¡¯re a coward wrapped in steel, hiding behind a code that should¡¯ve died with your world.¡±

    Axel¡¯s lips curled into a sneer, his voice cold and precise. ¡°Careful, Henryk. You¡¯re treading on dangerous ground.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re standing knee-deep in bullshit,¡± Henryk shot back, his voice rising with a fiery intensity. ¡°You talk about honor, about tradition¡ªbut all I see is a frightened man too weak to question the past.¡±

    The air thickened as the two squared off, the weight of the room pressing down on everyone like a stone slab. Axel loomed over Henryk, his fists twitching, each breath measured and slow, as if reining in an urge to lash out. ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of nerve,¡± Axel said, his words sharp as the edge of a blade. ¡°But nerve won¡¯t save you when you step too far.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s glare didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I don¡¯t need saving, Axel. Least of all from you. And I sure as hell don¡¯t need your approval.¡±

    The tension reached a breaking point, only to be shattered by Arthur¡¯s sharp scoff. ¡°Enough of this posturing,¡± he said, his voice heavy with disdain. ¡°The fact remains, Ed made a decision that spits in the face of everything we stand for. He should¡¯ve let Kieren¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Henryk roared, the force of his voice stopping everyone cold. The raw emotion in his tone crackled like a live wire. His voice cracked as he continued, his words tumbling out like an avalanche. ¡°All of you, shut up! You think this is about honor? About Mars? It¡¯s not. It¡¯s about a kid who almost died while we stood here, clinging to a world that doesn¡¯t exist anymore!¡±

    His eyes swept the room, burning with a furious light as they met each stunned face. ¡°I¡¯m done with all of this. The false accusations. The Siege of Oceana. The endless lies and secrecy. I¡¯ve had enough!¡± His voice caught, and for a brief moment, it seemed like the fire might die, but he pressed on, unbroken. ¡°I just want to go home. I want to see my mom.¡±

    The room stilled, the weight of his words sinking into the silence. Even Axel looked momentarily taken aback, his defiance faltering under the rawness of Henryk¡¯s confession.

    Henryk¡¯s voice steadied, quieter now but no less fierce. ¡°She¡¯s already buried both my fathers. She doesn¡¯t need to bury her only son, too.¡±

    The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved, no one spoke.

    Henryk turned his focus to Ed, his finger trembling slightly as he pointed. ¡°You let me into your House, Ed. You gave me a place here. And this¡ª¡± his voice cracked, but his glare was steady ¡°¡ªthis is what I get? Lies, manipulation, half-truths?¡±

    Ed opened his mouth, but Henryk wasn¡¯t done. His voice cut through the room like a whip. ¡°I had a long talk with Adaline,¡± he said, his tone sharp enough to slice. ¡°She told me some interesting things about Martian history. And then I did some digging of my own.¡±

    Arthur frowned, curiosity flickering beneath his scowl. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Henryk smirked, his eyes locking back onto Ed, gleaming with cold triumph. ¡°You¡¯d be amazed at what you can find on Wikipedia,¡± he said, the mockery in his voice practically dripping from every word. ¡°Especially when it comes to the Rubicon Tapes.¡±

    The color drained from Ed¡¯s face, the faintest flicker of fear betraying him. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

    Henryk took a step forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that seemed to reverberate through the room. ¡°So tell me, Ed. Are they true?¡±

    The room fell deathly silent, the weight of Henryk¡¯s question pressing down on everyone like a suffocating fog. Ed didn¡¯t respond. His gaze remained locked on Henryk¡¯s, the tension between them crackling like static electricity.

    It was Mateo who broke the silence, his voice hesitant and unsure. ¡°The Rubicon Tapes?¡± he asked, glancing around at the others. ¡°What¡¯s he talking about? What are the Rubicon Tapes?¡±

    Franklin, standing beside him, crossed his arms. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve never heard of them,¡± he added, his tone laced with unease. ¡°Are they, like, some kind of historical record or something?¡±

    The Sons of Mars¡ªArthur, Axel, Vinnie¡ªshifted uneasily. Their silence was louder than any confession, their eyes darting away from the group as if the answer might be written somewhere on the floor. Shame hung heavy in the air, pooling like a thick, oppressive fog.

    Henryk¡¯s scoff broke the stillness, his lip curling into a sneer. ¡°Of course they won¡¯t say a damn thing,¡± he snapped, glaring at the Sons of Mars. ¡°Mute shame. Typical.¡±

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Mateo started, his voice steady but probing, ¡°what¡¯s on these tapes? What¡¯s the big deal?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s head turned sharply toward Mateo, his eyes burning with righteous fury. ¡°You really want to know?¡± His words came out like a challenge, daring someone to interrupt. ¡°Fine. Let me educate you.¡±

    He began to pace the room, his voice growing louder with every step, every syllable a stone hurled into the silence. ¡°The Rubicon Tapes are a series of recordings made by General James Rubicon of Saturn¡ªten tapes in total. They document his time stationed with a Martian Knight Order during the so-called ¡®pacification and cleansing¡¯ of a system meant for colonization.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s words hit like a hammer, and the weight of them lingered, pulling the room further into his orbit.

    Arthur frowned, his confusion evident as his gaze darted to Henryk. ¡°Pacification? Cleansing? What is this nonsense?¡±

    Joseph, standing nearby, leaned toward Arthur and muttered under his breath, ¡°It¡¯s old Earth internet stuff¡ªrecords, videos, blogs. Think of it as a digital library. Henryk¡¯s talking about some historical recordings that must¡¯ve been archived.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s brow furrowed deeper, his lips tightening as he processed Joseph¡¯s words. Still, he said nothing, his focus shifting back to Henryk, whose expression had grown darker, his pacing relentless.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Those tapes,¡± Henryk began, his voice bitter, ¡°were supposed to document Martian culture¡ªyour secretive, self-righteous society. They were meant to be a testament to your so-called honor and traditions.¡± He stopped abruptly, his gaze slicing through the Sons of Mars like a blade. ¡°But they revealed a hell of a lot more than just rituals and ceremonies.¡±

    Henryk let the silence settle for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on the room like an invisible hand. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of the Battle Maiden Policy, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    Wilbur hesitated, raising a hand as if he were a schoolboy unsure of the answer. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t think any of us know what that is. What¡¯s a Battle Maiden?¡±

    Vinnie sighed, stepping forward with the reluctance of someone walking to the gallows. His voice was low, edged with discomfort. ¡°Battle Maidens were female warriors. Women couldn¡¯t bear the spikes, so they joined the Knight Orders in other ways¡ªeither as healers or fighters. They were revered, skilled, and loyal to their Orders.¡±

    Franklin raised an eyebrow, skeptical. ¡°Okay, but why is that a big deal?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Franklin. ¡°Because, Franklin, as noble as that might sound, General Rubicon uncovered something far uglier beneath the surface. A lot of those girls¡ªthose so-called Battle Maidens¡ªweren¡¯t even adults. They were kids. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Fighting alongside grown men.¡±

    Mateo¡¯s face contorted in disbelief, his voice rising. ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s jaw tightened as he pushed forward, his voice gaining momentum. ¡°Sure, there were older ones¡ªwomen who had proven their worth, even a few grandmothers who had fought for their place on the battlefield. But that wasn¡¯t what disturbed Rubicon. No, what shook him to his core was what came next.¡±

    The room seemed to freeze, every eye fixed on Henryk as he turned back to Ed. His voice dropped, calm and cold as the edge of a knife. ¡°One of his tapes captured a confession. A Battle Maiden admitted that her so-called Knight Lord¡ªthe man she was sworn to protect with her life¡ªhad been sexually assaulting her.¡±

    A collective gasp rippled through the room, sharp and jagged, leaving silence in its wake. Even the Sons of Mars, who had weathered countless battles and borne unspoken truths, shifted uncomfortably, their shame palpable.

    ¡°And it wasn¡¯t just one case,¡± Henryk spat, his voice trembling with rage. ¡°Rubicon¡¯s research revealed it was widespread. A disgusting, systemic abuse of power buried beneath all that talk of honor and loyalty. Martian culture¡ªso proud, so goddamned mighty¡ªwas rotten to its core.¡±

    Franklin staggered back as if the words had struck him. His face drained of color. ¡°That can¡¯t be true¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Henryk snapped, his voice cutting like a whip. ¡°Adaline confirmed it. And do you know what happened next? Those tapes caused such an uproar that even the Emperor himself had to step in. He tightened his grip on House Mars, trying to rein them in. But it was too late. The cracks had already started to show. The Fall of Mars began right there¡ªwith the truth dragging your so-called honor into the light.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s anger surged, his voice growing louder, sharper, a storm gathering force. ¡°And now here we are, centuries later, and I¡¯m supposed to stand here and respect this? Respect you?¡± He thrust a finger toward the Sons of Mars, his fury boiling over into something raw and electric. ¡°This school hums with whispers about the rapist House of Mars, about the atrocities your ancestors committed. And I¡¯m supposed to wear this?¡±

    He yanked at the red-printed sleeve of his academy jacket, tearing it off with a swift, savage motion. ¡°This symbol? This stain?¡±

    The sleeve hit the floor with a hollow thud, but Henryk wasn¡¯t done. He ripped the entire jacket off and hurled it to the ground as if it burned him. ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± he said, his voice cold but shaking with barely contained emotion. ¡°I¡¯m done with this House. Done with this school. Done with you.¡±

    Ed finally found his voice, stepping forward, his hands raised in a gesture of appeasement. ¡°Henryk, listen¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Mateo¡¯s voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and furious. ¡°Don¡¯t even try, Ed!¡±

    All eyes turned to Mateo. Her body trembled with barely controlled rage, her voice quivering as she let the words spill, unchecked and venomous. ¡°This¡­ this is disgusting! All of it! You mean to tell me that this noble House of Mars, with all its honor and pomp, allowed something this vile to happen? And you didn¡¯t think it was important enough to tell us?!¡±

    ¡°Mateo, please,¡± Ed tried again, but Mateo wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡°Don¡¯t please me, Ed!¡± she roared, her voice cracking under the weight of her fury. ¡°How long have you known about this? How long have we all been walking around with this filthy red emblem on our sleeves, thinking it stood for something good?¡±

    ¡°Mateo¡ª¡± Franklin started, his voice hesitant, but Mateo wheeled on him like a storm bearing down.

    ¡°And you! What about you?¡± she yelled, jabbing a shaking finger in his direction. ¡°You¡¯re just going to stand there and say nothing? Do you even care? Or are you just stunned into silence like the rest of these cowards?¡±

    Franklin staggered back, his face ashen. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t even know what to say¡­¡±

    Wilbur crossed his arms, his jaw set in a grim line. ¡°Me neither. This¡­ this is insane. Is it true, Ed?¡±

    Ed held up a hand, his voice shaking as he tried to regain control over the spiraling conversation. ¡°Listen to me. The moment the King of Mars found out about this¡ªwhen the tapes surfaced¡ªhe decreed that the practice stop. Immediately. The Kings of Mars didn¡¯t know how widespread the problem was¡ª¡±

    Henryk scoffed, the sound bitter and derisive, twisting his face into something unrecognizable. ¡°And you think that makes it better? You think that absolves them?¡±

    Ed¡¯s voice faltered, faltering like a drowning man gasping for air. ¡°Henryk, they tried to make things right. They¡ª¡±

    ¡°They tried to fix it after centuries of abuse!¡± Henryk¡¯s voice shot back, raw and unyielding. ¡°That doesn¡¯t erase what happened. It doesn¡¯t bring justice to those girls. It doesn¡¯t bring them back.¡±

    Ed¡¯s shoulders sagged as if the weight of Henryk¡¯s words crushed him. He realized, in that moment, that he was speaking to a wall, built high and thick with years of pain, and no amount of rationalization would topple it.

    Henryk¡¯s tone grew cold, the words coming out clipped, like icicles ready to shatter. ¡°You talk about making things right. About building a better future. But how am I supposed to trust you with that?¡± His voice rose, biting and cruel. ¡°How am I supposed to believe you¡¯ll raise your sisters as queens and barons when your culture¡ªyour people¡ªconducted themselves like this? How?¡±

    Ed opened his mouth, a thousand responses on the tip of his tongue, but Henryk turned toward the door. His movements were stiff, deliberate, as if each step took more effort than the last, and his resolve was a weight too heavy to bear.

    Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Vinnie¡¯s voice rang out, clear and desperate. ¡°Henryk, wait.¡±

    Henryk froze, his back to them, but his posture was rigid. He didn¡¯t turn around. ¡°What could you possibly say that would make me stay?¡±

    Vinnie stepped forward, his movements slow but sure. The room fell quiet, the tension thick as fog. He ignored the incredulous look Axel shot him, his focus fixed entirely on Henryk. ¡°You want to know the truth?¡± Vinnie¡¯s voice was calm but unwavering, the kind of steady confidence that could silence storms. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll tell you everything.¡±

    Axel¡¯s eyes darkened, and his spikes caught the dim light as he took a threatening step forward. ¡°Vinnie, don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, Axel,¡± Vinnie snapped, his voice hard and unyielding. He didn¡¯t even glance in Axel¡¯s direction, his gaze locked on Henryk, determined and unshaken. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to lose someone like Henryk. Not over this. Not over something we can explain.¡±

    Axel growled low in his throat, the sound like an animal at bay, but he stayed silent. His jaw was clenched so tight it was a wonder it didn¡¯t crack under the pressure.

    Vinnie turned back to Henryk, his voice softening, but only just. ¡°Look, a lot of Martian culture is ugly. I¡¯m not going to deny that. But you have to understand¡ªwe¡¯re the champions of the light. If not us, then who? If we don¡¯t stand against the horrors of the universe, then who the hell will?¡±

    Henryk turned slowly, his face hard as stone, his eyes flat and unreadable. ¡°You want to talk about horrors? Fine. Tell me about the spikes.¡±

    Vinnie¡¯s expression darkened, his shoulders tightening as the weight of the words settled in. ¡°The spikes of Mars¡­ they¡¯re step two of a twisted process. It starts with a Martian worm. The worm gestates, and once it¡¯s ready, it needs a host. That¡¯s where the spikes come in.¡±

    He gestured toward his own back, his voice dropping lower, tinged with something close to regret. ¡°The worm¡¯s teeth¡ªits spikes¡ªare driven into the base of the host¡¯s spine. The temperature has to be regulated, or it¡¯s over. Timing is everything. If the host carries the worm for longer than twelve hours, they¡¯ll become a slave to it. Their mind? Gone. Their will? Broken. They won¡¯t be their own anymore.¡±

    Wilbur flinched, the color draining from his face. ¡°Jesus¡­¡±

    ¡°The severance process,¡± Vinnie continued, his voice flat, like he was reciting a death sentence, ¡°kills the worm. Knives and cauterization are used to fuse the spikes with the host¡¯s nervous system. From that moment on, the host is no longer fully human. They¡¯re taller. Stronger. Faster. Their senses¡­ sharper. The world around them doesn¡¯t even look the same anymore.¡±

    Mateo crossed her arms, her face pale but defiant. ¡°And what¡¯s the catch?¡±

    Vinnie¡¯s eyes were cold, unwavering, like he was staring into the abyss and wasn¡¯t afraid of what stared back. ¡°You can never go back. Once the spikes are in, you lose your humanity. Forever.¡±

    Henryk stared at him, his face unreadable, the words hanging between them like a threat. ¡°And Kieren?¡±

    ¡°Kieren didn¡¯t have a choice,¡± Vinnie said bluntly. ¡°But you do. So what are you going to do, Henryk? What¡¯s your choice?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s lips parted, the words on the tip of his tongue, but before he could answer, a sharp, shrill sound sliced through the silence.

    A phone ringing. Then another. And another. The room seemed to come alive with the cacophony of ringing phones, each one demanding attention, each one carrying a weight of something unspoken.

    Ed¡¯s head snapped toward the sound, his expression shifting from frustration to something colder, something more uncertain. ¡°What the hell¡­?¡±

    The tension in the room twisted, morphing from anger to confusion in an instant. The argument was momentarily forgotten as every set of eyes flicked nervously toward the phones, exchanging uneasy glances. Whatever this was, it wasn¡¯t good.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper watched the auditorium fill, a sea of colors swarming the space as each house¡¯s representatives found their seats. Some were groggy, eyes heavy from being yanked awake, while others were already on edge, muttering, cursing. It was like a storm waiting to break.

    She could hear it all. The murmurs, the tension, the raw energy. Because she was standing right at the edge of it.

    This auditorium. The same place where Edward had once declared the rebirth of The Sons of Mars. The same place where the Headmaster had revealed his death. And yet, there was no security. No teachers. Just a room full of bodies, all about to govern themselves. Lord of the Flies style.

    Zephyr¡¯s hand landed gently on her shoulder, a grounding touch, but his eyes stayed fixed on the crowd. "How you holding up?" he whispered, his voice low, like he was afraid the storm might hear.

    "Peachy," Piper muttered, rolling her eyes. She wanted to sound unbothered, but even she could feel the edges of her control beginning to slip.

    Zephyr sighed, his shoulders slumping just slightly. "Like I said, I didn¡¯t realize just how big a spectacle this was gonna be. Christ, it was one thing if you lost to Atticus... but this?" His voice trailed off, lost in the immensity of it. "This is just overkill."

    Piper¡¯s gaze sharpened. "Who do you think they¡¯ve got assembled against me?"

    "Of course, Atticus," Zephyr answered, his hand lifting in a half-hearted gesture. His eyes flicked over to where Clarissa and Atticus stood. For siblings, they looked nothing alike. It was almost comical how different they were.

    Clarissa was rigid, standing at attention in her Earth uniform¡ªthe dull browns and greens of her house, her hair pulled tightly into a single, precise ponytail. She was the image of military discipline, her glare cold and unyielding.

    Atticus, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. A grin stretched across his face, hands stuffed casually into his pockets. The kind of smile that said he knew something no one else did. And that chain hanging around his neck, the sunglasses perched on his face, the hawaiian shirt¡ªhe might¡¯ve been at the beach if not for the cold, gleaming metal of his bionic limbs catching the light just so.

    Zephyr snorted softly, a dry, gritty sound. "Huh, look at that... looks like you two got something in common after all."

    Atticus was a study in contradiction. One look at him and you could tell he was nothing like his sister. His bionic leg, the sharp gleam of his arm¡ªcold, mechanical, and precise. His appearance, almost too smooth and polished, stood in stark contrast to the wild energy of his sister, Clarissa. If Zephyr had to make a wager, he would guess there was a reason for those dark glasses perched on Atticus¡¯ face¡ªsomething to hide. Atticus¡¯ sunbaked skin and snow-coated limbs, his blond hair tangled in the breeze, made him seem like an outsider in every way. He stood there, a ghost in the storm, next to Clarissa¡ªwho was all structure, all discipline¡ªand yet, there they were, bound by blood.

    Siblings, in the strangest of ways.

    Up ahead, Sarah and Anderson turned their gaze toward Piper and Zephyr. They were observers in this contest, liutenants without a stake in the duel¡ªbut they understood the weight of the moment, knew it was one step away from disaster. Only the class presidents and the players involved were truly part of the game tonight.

    "Who do you think she¡¯ll call on?" Sarah¡¯s voice broke the tension.

    Anderson tossed another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°Christ, these assholes are sick. Can you imagine? How normal is this? How fucked up it¡¯s all become?" He spoke through a full mouth, his words muddled, not matching the gravity of the situation.

    Sarah didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Anderson. Shut up. Stop eating, this is serious. Piper¡¯s position is up for grabs. Don¡¯t get me wrong, it¡¯d be good for us... but if she goes down, then¡­¡± She trailed off, her mind racing ahead of her words.

    Anderson waved her off with a lazy grin. ¡°She¡¯s the Red Rocket of the Mercurian Sphere. Ain¡¯t nobody stopping her, Sarah. Trust me.¡± He leaned back in his chair, tossing another handful of popcorn into his mouth, as if the world didn¡¯t have the weight of a thousand stones pressing down on it. ¡°Hell, it¡¯s even salted right. Buttered, too. They put butter in this shit? Damn.¡±

    Sarah was losing patience fast. ¡°Anderson, what the hell is wrong with you?¡±

    He shrugged, unfazed, his fingers idly flipping through the bag. ¡°We all get the shitty call to come here, don¡¯t we? And it¡¯s crazy, right? The second-years and up¡ªthose assholes already have stalls, foods, drinks...like, what kind of level does this shit get to, huh?¡±

    Sarah sighed, her mind still clouded by worry. "Everyone likes a spectacle. And Piper... she¡¯s ''technically'' famous."

    Anderson, ever the optimist, nodded sagely. "You¡¯re worrying too much. She¡¯s gonna be fine."

    Sarah studied him, her gaze sharp. "You sound so sure," she remarked, her words laced with doubt.

    Anderson smirked, a cocky glint in his eye. He leaned back, placing the popcorn aside with a careful motion, like this wasn¡¯t just a game to him. Then, from inside his jacket, he drew out a worn notebook. His fingers flipped through the pages with practiced ease, but Sarah¡ªwho hadn¡¯t expected what she¡¯d see¡ªwatched in stunned silence.

    ¡°Are those... all pictures of her?¡± The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.

    Anderson grinned, his tone smug. "Relax, I ain¡¯t a stalker. This all came from the internet, Reddit, you know? Public stuff. Nothing weird about it." But as he said it, Sarah¡¯s horror grew with each page he flipped. Every image was a record, a snapshot. A battle. A fight. Every victory Piper had ever had. Cataloged. Filed away. All of it there, on paper¡ªlike a trophy of war. And it wasn¡¯t just House Mercury. No, every battle she¡¯d fought, every fight she¡¯d won, was there.

    ¡°Christ, you could be her biggest fan,¡± Sarah muttered under her breath, more to herself than to him.

    Anderson, however, didn¡¯t seem to notice the distaste in her tone as he slid the notebook back into his jacket, close to his chest, giving it a comforting pat. ¡°The only time Piper¡¯s really lost was against Logan and Atticus. Hell, what we did in Oceana should¡¯ve been enough to fix her reputation. But it looks like the doubters need more. Real proof.¡± His gaze cut across the room, landing on the crowd ahead with a bitter glance.

    Sarah followed his line of sight, narrowing her eyes as they landed on Piper. ¡°Honestly, I can¡¯t imagine what¡¯s going through her head right now. She doesn¡¯t even know what they¡¯re going to ask her.¡±

    ¡°How far can it go?¡± Anderson¡¯s voice carried a thread of uncertainty.

    Sarah shrugged, a bitter edge in her tone. ¡°Anything. Honestly, I¡¯ve heard some things¡­¡± She let out a heavy sigh, the weight of it dragging down her chest. ¡°There¡¯s a darkness here, in this Academy. Who knows what they¡¯ll ask of Piper? For all we know, this could be a duel to the death.¡±

    Anderson set the popcorn aside, his tone shifting, hardening. ¡°¡­And there¡¯s nothing we can do for her?¡± His hand, as if on instinct, went to his chest, then reached toward Sarah. ¡°Both of us are lieutenants in House Mercury. I¡¯ve got favor from the battle of Oceana¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot and get her disqualified,¡± Sarah cut in sharply. ¡°She needs people from other houses, people who will work with her.¡±

    Anderson opened his mouth to respond, but another voice interrupted.

    ¡°You¡¯re both right,¡± the voice spoke, feminine and steady. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do. This is their fight.¡±

    Sarah and Anderson both turned to see who had spoken, their eyes instinctively narrowing.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the voice continued. And there, standing behind them, was Marcus.

    Marcus stood tall, his figure cutting a wide shadow over the girl beside him. She was small in comparison, her hand pointing at the scene in front of them, her lips curving into a smirk. ¡°These are the new guys?¡± she asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

    Both Sarah and Anderson exchanged an uneasy glance, their eyes locked on Marcus. But it wasn¡¯t just Marcus. It was those eyes¡ªcrimson red, deep and unsettling, burning with a strange hunger. His back arched slightly as he surveyed the room, then refocused on them.

    ¡°S-shit¡­ sorry about that,¡± Marcus stammered, shaking his head as if to clear some inner fog. ¡°Shit¡­ this is Iman. She¡¯s a Lieutenant Commander of the¡­¡±

    ¡°Bloody 34th!¡± she proclaimed, raising her fist into the air, her voice ringing out with the kind of vigor that could shake the walls. Sarah and Anderson¡¯s eyes widened at the intensity of it, a flare of recognition and unease passing between them. ¡°I remember you two. I had the pleasure of fighting alongside you during the battle of Oceana II.¡±

    Anderson and Sarah¡¯s eyes widened even further, the memories pressing down on them like a weight. They nodded, their expressions slackening. ¡°Christ, that was a bloodbath,¡± Anderson muttered under his breath, his voice thick with the memory of the carnage.

    Iman and Marcus took their seats next to the others, unfazed by the grim silence that had settled in. ¡°Oh, when¡¯s this going to start?¡± Iman said, her voice light but laced with impatience. ¡°I¡¯ve got a late class tomorrow at nine.¡±

    Marcus shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Write that email to your professor, use the duel excuse. Works every time,¡± he said, his tone casual, as though he were offering advice on a mundane task.

    ¡°You know it,¡± Iman replied, her hand slapping against Marcus¡¯s in a fist bump.

    ¡°Yo, freshy, let me have some of that,¡± Marcus called out, his voice still amused.

    ¡°What¡ªwait, what?!¡± Anderson spluttered, his words cut off as Marcus cleanly snatched a handful of popcorn and poured the rest into his own palm with practiced ease.

    ¡°Serves you right for getting distracted,¡± Iman quipped, her grin sharp. Anderson¡¯s fist tightened at his side, but she wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Hesitation is death,¡± she added, her tone light but carrying a chilling edge, like the flash of a blade in the dark. Sarah caught the glint in her voice, but she wondered if Anderson could hear it too.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s starting¡­¡± Marcus¡¯s voice drew out, languid and almost disinterested. But Iman, her gaze fixed forward, was a study in stillness. Her eyes scanned the floor, and then stopped¡ªmidway. The room felt like it held its breath.

    ¡°What are you looking at¡­?¡± Anderson started to ask, but then his gaze followed hers, drawn by the same invisible thread. He watched, speechless, as Iman¡¯s eyes locked onto Henryk¡¯s frame, her expression suddenly unreadable. She licked her lips, her posture shifting, leaning slightly against the railing as if readying herself for something.

    ¡°You¡¯ve talked to Henryk in a minute?¡± she asked, her voice lower now, a touch of curiosity twisting through her words.

    Marcus nearly burst out laughing.

    ¡°H-hey, what¡¯s so funny?!¡± she shouted, now starting to smack Marcus in playful annoyance.

    ¡°YOU¡¯RE so obvious!¡± he shouted back, ducking under her strikes, his grin wide. But his laughter faltered as his eyes locked onto Margaret¡¯s face, the smile there unnerving in its intensity. She stood a few paces away, arms behind her back, staring at him with an expression that mixed something almost predatory with a touch of strange affection.

    ¡°Hey, Marky,¡± she said, her voice sweet, but the words felt like they had a sharp edge beneath them.

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened as he leaned back in his seat, an almost imperceptible chuckle escaping his lips. ¡°Marky, what happened to Marcus?¡± he asked, his gaze sweeping over the room. The other members of House Mercury¡ªhis colleagues, his comrades¡ªcouldn¡¯t know.

    They couldn¡¯t know that this was the girl he was fucking.

    Yet there was no escaping it as Margaret¡¯s hands locked around his head, pulling him into a kiss so deep it threatened to steal the air from his lungs.

    ¡°Ladies¡¯ fucking man, this one is!¡± Anderson shouted, his voice carrying through the room like a cracked whip, and the crowd erupted in laughter. Marcus, flushed and disoriented, struggled to escape Margaret¡¯s hold, but it was futile.

    ¡°¡­unlike him,¡± Anderson said, his voice laced with an easy confidence, ¡°I¡¯ve got my eyes set on one.¡± The crowd smiled and murmured, their attention shifting to the stage.

    The atmosphere in the hall shifted. There was a moment of strange silence, a breath held, as instinctual human responses took hold. Zephyr and Clarissa moved from their respective duels and made their way to the podium. They took the microphone that the headmaster had used before, and the weight of the room seemed to press down on them.

    ¡°Hello, first off, sorry for interrupting your night, everyone¡­¡± Zephyr¡¯s voice rang out, drawing scattered laughs and chuckles from the crowd, some of which quickly turned to jeers.

    But Zephyr pushed on, undeterred. ¡°Now, for those who are in the unknown, House Mercury and Earth House have been having a lot of problems. Now, this is going to be a duel, not a trial by combat. Shields will be up. Once your mechs stop moving¡­¡± He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle in. ¡°It¡¯s done. No critical hits, we¡¯re not losing anyone tonight.¡±

    His voice echoed through the hall, a ripple of understanding running through the crowd. Zephyr handed the mic to Clarissa next, and she took it with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to commanding attention.

    ¡°Hello, to all of you, I am Clarissa of Earth House, president. But tonight, I come to you as a student. Tonight, we shall test the absolute. Combat!¡± She shouted, and the crowd roared in response¡ªsome in excitement, some in disgust. A few turned away, unable to stomach the spectacle, but the cheers were loud and plentiful.

    ¡°Fucking animals¡­¡± Joseph muttered under his breath as he turned for a moment, but before he could even make a full gesture, Isaac¡¯s hand was on his head, pressing it back into position, his grip firm, unyielding.

    Joseph slapped Isaac¡¯s hand away, frustration in his eyes. ¡°The hell is your malfunction? Don¡¯t¡ªdon¡¯t randomly be¡­¡±

    ¡°Keep your eyes forward,¡± Isaac snapped, his voice clipped, his posture military, rigid. It was the same stillness Clarissa exuded. ¡°We are the black sheep house. We do not have the luxury of looking around.¡±

    Joseph shot him a look, annoyed, but his gaze returned to the stage. ¡°You¡¯re being dramatic,¡± he muttered, but it lacked the force of conviction.

    ¡°Really?¡± Isaac¡¯s voice was low, laced with a cautionary tone. ¡°Then go ahead, keep staring. There are plenty of kids here still pissed about the honor of House Mars. A lot of them don¡¯t believe in our strength anymore¡ªjust rumors. You try it, and we¡¯ll be lucky if the focus isn¡¯t on us tonight. Don¡¯t fuck it up.¡±

    Joseph took the words in, his face a mask of stillness, mouth tight. Isaac had a point.

    Clarissa¡¯s voice cut through the tension, sharp and clear. ¡°¡­My half-brother, Atticus, and Piper dueled. Now, Piper has rechallenged my brother¡­¡± Piper felt the urge to slap herself, just one simple action to wipe away the mess that had spiraled out of one stupid duel. One action no one would have remembered. But now it was here¡ªthis blood-soaked spectacle. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t want another one-on-one. No. I want entertainment!¡± Her voice surged, her bloodlust spreading through the crowd like a fever.

    ¡°No, I want retribution,¡± she continued, her smile twisted with something darker. ¡°So let¡¯s make this fun¡­ The last cross-team battle was over a decade ago,¡± she said, raising her free hand to the air. ¡°So here¡¯s how the duel is going to go. It¡¯s going to be a three versus three. Piper and Atticus will not pick rosters from their houses. Instead, they will draw from you¡­¡± Her gaze swept over the crowd. ¡°The crowd.¡±

    The room fell into a stunned silence. The screams and shouts of bloodlust died as realization settled in¡ªone of them would have to commit to this bloodsport.

    Clarissa sighed, a slow, almost bored exhale. ¡°If no one joins either side, the match is forfeit. However¡­¡± She paused, the corners of her lips curling into a smile that felt colder than the air around them. ¡°If one side has members and the other doesn¡¯t have enough, the other side wins.¡± She let the words hang. ¡°So, we¡¯re going to ask each side what they desire.¡±

    Clarissa turned sharply to Atticus, moving like a woman about to hand over the mic. But Atticus reached for it first, the cold metal of his bionic hand glinting under the lights. She recoiled from it, a brief hesitation flickering over her face.

    ¡°Atticus and Earth House,¡± she announced, her voice cutting through the silence. ¡°If we win, anyone who aligns with Piper and herself will be terminated and expelled from the Academy.¡±

    A deathly silence fell over the room, as though the very air had thickened, become unbearable.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Marcus¡¯s voice broke the quiet, blunt and full of disbelief. His hand ran through his hair, eyes darting around the room to the shocked faces, the open mouths. ¡°Could she¡­ could she really¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes, she can,¡± Edward spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of knowledge. His gaze met Arthur¡¯s, standing a few rows down, as they both observed the unfolding madness from the middle of the auditorium. Even though their legs ached, they stood firm. The honor to stand seemed hollow now, a mockery of what it was meant to be.

    Arthur shot a look back up to the deck, incredulous. ¡°So, she can just order them to renounce their allegiances and loyalties like that?¡±

    ¡°We sign certain things to be here, Arthur,¡± Edward replied, his voice quiet now, weary. He wrapped his arms around himself, a tightness in his posture as though trying to hold himself together. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯ve warned you and the others. Save the conflict for the missions. This house shit? You¡¯ve ever heard the saying ¡®don¡¯t shit where you eat¡¯? We don¡¯t need enemies at home.¡±

    Arthur nodded along, his large frame casting a long, heavy shadow even among those with their spikes and sharp edges. Maybe that was why he didn¡¯t feel August¡¯s hands tugging urgently at his overalls.

    ¡°Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!¡± August half-yelled, half-whispered in frantic breaths. ¡°I-It¡¯s Henryk, man, you were right about him¡­ you were right!¡±

    ¡°Right about what?¡± Arthur¡¯s voice was thick, hoarse. His eyes shifted toward Henryk¡¯s direction, but the crowd was a blur, and he couldn¡¯t spot him. ¡°H-Henryk?¡± His voice croaked, the words tasting like dust in his mouth.

    He swept his gaze over the room once more, but his mind echoed with Clarissa¡¯s voice, a whisper that was already a looming command. ¡°We¡¯ve already got our pick.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you do?¡± Zephyr¡¯s voice cut in, laced with a mockery that didn¡¯t even try to hide itself. ¡°Wow, I didn¡¯t realize we could¡¯ve planned this ahead of time.¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s arms wrapped tightly around herself, her stance defensive, like she was bracing against the wind. ¡°Well,¡± she said, the edges of her voice sharpening, ¡°maybe you should¡¯ve thought about that before challenging our ace.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s your two then?¡± Piper asked, her voice as cool as it was deadly.

    Clarissa¡¯s eyes locked onto the crowd, her gaze a flash of something dangerous. ¡°Easy,¡± she replied, the words drawn from her like a blade. ¡°I call upon Jos¨¦ of House Venus, and Logan of House Neptune.¡±

    The crowd stirred like wildfire caught in a dry wind. A wave of purple and blue erupted into a frenzy, the noise almost deafening as the aces of their respective houses made their way toward the stage. Their arrival was a spectacle, as if the crowd were cheering athletes, pumping their fists, thumping the air in a primal rhythm.

    ¡°Ah, Atticus,¡± Logan¡¯s voice sliced through the noise, sharp and cruel, ¡°you look far uglier and meaner up close.¡±

    Jos¨¦ let out a laugh, too loud and too forceful, a sound that carried an edge of mockery. ¡°Hah, that¡¯s funny, Prince Logan,¡± he said, his tone too heavy with arrogance.

    Logan¡¯s eyes flicked to the side, his glance lingering briefly before he focused back on Piper, his words like a knife, deliberate and cold. ¡°You missed me, Piper? I heard a lot of good things about you on Oceana. You pushed through that little bug of yours, didn¡¯t you? The one that made you eat shit every time you crawled into a mobile suit.¡± His voice dropped to a scolding tone, like he was lecturing a disobedient child.

    Piper¡¯s fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, a vein pulsing on her forehead as her red hair flared around her face, like flames licking at the air. ¡°The fuck you say to me, you small-dicked prick?¡± she spat, her words dripping with venom.

    The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and laughter as Logan waved it off, his grin wide and self-satisfied. ¡°Woman, am I right?¡± he bellowed, his voice ringing with a smugness that somehow infected the room. There was a surprising number of people laughing, both men and women, as if they were all complicit in the joke.

    ¡°You¡¯re a real bastard, Logan!¡± Piper shouted, her voice laced with venom. ¡°What the hell does this have to do with Neptune¡¯s affairs, or Venus?¡± Her eyes flicked between the trio of young men, her gaze sharp, like she could tear them apart with her stare alone.

    ¡°Are you as stupid as you look?¡± Logan quipped, his hand nonchalantly cleaning his fingernail, as if this was all just a game. ¡°Anyone can join the games, Pipes. Sorry, looks like you¡¯ve met your match. I¡¯ll try to keep that face of yours intact. It¡¯s honestly the only decent part of you.¡±

    Piper¡¯s hands balled into fists at her sides, her jaw clenching so tight it might break. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m going to kick your ass!¡± she spat, fury rising in her chest. She turned her gaze toward Atticus. ¡°But you, you¡¯re the biggest coward of them all.¡±

    Atticus blinked, taken aback. ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I know you, Atticus,¡± she said, her voice low and biting. ¡°You¡¯re a warrior. You didn¡¯t care the first time about the spectacle. You didn¡¯t care about me being expelled. So, what is it? You know what? If I win, you tell me the truth. Tell everyone the truth. Did Clarissa, that cold-hearted bitch, force you to do this?¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s laugh rang out, too loud, too sharp to be anything but forced. ¡°Well, Piper,¡± she drawled, her eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the faces that had turned toward them. ¡°Who¡¯s going to fight by your side, then?¡± She smiled with something like pity, looking at the members of House Mercury¡ªMarcus, Margaret, Iman, Ernest, Simon, and Anderson¡ªand others from various houses. She could practically smell the weight of doubt in the air. Bracken¡¯s mind went to Piper¡¯s contributions on the frontlines. Simon and his girlfriend, torn away from the sight¡­

    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m not even going to be allowed to fight,¡± Piper muttered, the words barely escaping her lips. It wasn¡¯t the duel. It wasn¡¯t the stress of the fight ahead. It was the realization¡ªthe crushing weight¡ªthat even her ability to defend herself, to stand her ground, would be ripped away.

    Clarissa¡¯s voice cut through the tension, her words dripping with the satisfaction of knowing she had already won. ¡°Huh, not unexpected,¡± she said, her eyes scanning the room with a cool, almost clinical detachment. ¡°Over a thousand people here, and not a single soul wants to help you, Piper. That must feel like the loneliest feeling in the whole world.¡±

    Piper wiped a tear from her cheek, her fingers trembling slightly, but her voice held firm. ¡°Oh, shut up, Clarissa. What do you know about being lonely?¡± She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. ¡°I know about you, about your father. I¡¯d rather die than have a dad like that.¡± Her voice broke for a moment, but she quickly composed herself. ¡°Honestly, I pity you¡­ I see the way Atticus is, how he hides his wounds, and I know who gave them to him¡­¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s gaze turned colder, sharper. ¡°And what do you know about fathers, Piper?¡± she asked, her voice a quiet knife. ¡°I know about your past¡­¡±

    Piper¡¯s expression twisted into something dark and resolute. ¡°You don¡¯t know shit,¡± she shot back, her tone as curt as a whip crack.

    ¡°Really?¡± Clarissa huffed, a cruel chuckle slipping from her lips. ¡°I know your family... disowned you.¡± She let the words hang in the air, watching the surprise, the slow realization settle on Piper¡¯s face, like a storm cloud creeping across the horizon.

    ¡°Really,¡± she continued, her voice almost sweet, ¡°it must be lonely. Hell, Atticus is a little shit, but honestly, you¡¯ve only got one brother left.¡± She laughed again, sharp and mocking.

    But before Piper could respond, Henryk raised his hand. His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. ¡°I will fight.¡± His words hung heavy in the tense air, and the squires around him turned in disbelief¡ªMateo, Wilbur, and Franklin looked at him like he had just sprouted another head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll fight,¡± Henryk repeated, his voice louder now, unwavering.

    ¡°What the fuck is he doing? Is he retarded?¡± Wilbur¡¯s voice cut through the room, thick with incredulity.

    ¡°Fuck if I know,¡± Franklin muttered back, but the others couldn¡¯t take their eyes off Henryk, who was already pushing through the crowd, heading for the stage.

    ¡°¡­My father taught me that,¡± Henryk spoke as he moved, his voice steady, the weight of his words unmistakable. ¡°Seems like he¡¯s got the concept of family down better than yours did.¡±

    Piper¡¯s fury surged like a tidal wave. She hated the tears, hated the way people were seeing her like this. The deaths, the sacrifices, all of it had been for nothing. She had been searching for a reason, searching for a way to prove it had been worth it. But now, it felt like the end. She could feel the walls closing in around her.

    ¡°Who will fight for you, Piper?¡± Clarissa¡¯s voice rang out, cruel and inviting, her hand sweeping toward the crowd, offering them a chance to join her cause. But it was Henryk who caught Arthur¡¯s eye. He had just stepped forward, his form standing tall, different from the rest.

    Arthur¡¯s voice escaped him, a shout of disbelief. ¡°Henryk!¡± The name tumbled from his lips before he could stop it, instinctive, raw.

    ¡°Henryk?¡± Ed repeated, his voice low, searching, as if the name itself might hold some meaning.

    ¡°Henryk?¡± Clarissa¡¯s voice was a sharp edge, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the crowd. She didn¡¯t recognize him, but she didn¡¯t need to. The others did. The name wasn¡¯t just any name. It was a name that carried weight¡ªa name only borne by one person in this academy, maybe even in this whole world.

    ¡°Yes, I will fight.¡± Henryk¡¯s voice was final, the certainty in his tone unshakable. He let his hand drop, and the sound of his footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, each step deliberate, each one carrying the gravity of his decision.

 Chapter 11 - Henryk Kills Jose

    ¡°This is fucking insane!¡± Edward shouted, his voice trembling as he thrust his hand toward Henryk. His eyes glistened with frustration, a sharp spark dancing behind them. ¡°House Mars does not support this action!¡±

    Atticus scoffed, his face tightening in disbelief as he flicked his sunglasses up onto his head. ¡°What is this all about, Clarissa?¡± he barked, his tone teetering between a question and an accusation. ¡°Now we¡¯ve got Executors mixed up in this mess? You want House Mars tangled with Earth¡¯s politics, too?¡±

    His sneer curled into something bitter as he turned sharply, stalking toward the ranks of House Mars. His stance was rigid, every step brimming with defiance. ¡°They¡¯re still warriors, Clarissa. We don¡¯t need this. I never had any ill will toward Piper.¡± His voice grew quieter but no less cutting, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an executioner¡¯s blade.

    Clarissa¡¯s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to speak but finding no words.

    ¡°Then what the fuck was this, then?¡± Iman interjected, her voice sharp as steel. She stood beside Marcus, her hand gesturing toward the chaos unfolding. Marcus and Margaret exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes wide, like they were watching a storm roll in.

    ¡°This random-ass roster is something else,¡± Iman continued, her voice dripping with derision. She tilted her chair back, boots kicked up onto the edge of the table with an audacious grin. ¡°Atticus, halfway to throwing in with Piper and Henryk¡­ At least she won¡¯t get kicked out now without a fight.¡± A low chuckle followed, brimming with mockery.

    Sarah snorted, shaking her head. ¡°What¡¯s her deal?¡± she muttered under her breath, barely audible but loud enough for the tension to ripple.

    Anderson, standing stiffly nearby, narrowed his eyes at Iman. His lips curled back in a sneer as he muttered a single word under his breath, venom dripping from it like poison. ¡°¡­Cunt.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll fight alongside the Red Rocket and the Executor of House Mars,¡± Atticus declared, his voice dark and deliberate. Every syllable seemed to bite, his gaze locking onto the other houses like a predator cornering prey. ¡°Three houses, Clarissa. I don¡¯t follow this madness. But if the Martians are with her¡ª¡± his eyes darted to Marcus, searching for validation, and finding a shared glint of unspoken understanding, ¡°¡ªthen the Martians of House Mars are the truth.¡±

    The room tensed. Atticus planted himself in front of his sister, standing like a shield against the storm he knew she would unleash upon him later. Her face twitched, a silent promise of reckoning gleaming in her narrowed eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna die like a little bitch, Henryk.¡± Jose¡¯s voice cut through the room, jagged and ugly. His finger pointed at Henryk, his laugh bursting out in crude, jagged spurts. ¡°Like a dumb hick mutant! Fuck, hah! Hah, hah!¡±

    The room froze. Every face turned toward Jose in stunned silence, the weight of his words pressing down like a suffocating fog.

    Henryk blinked, his jaw tightening. He knew him and Jose weren¡¯t friends¡ªjust casual acquaintances, sharing food and the occasional laugh. But this? This wasn¡¯t a joke. Was it¡­?

    ¡°Woah.¡± Iman¡¯s voice shattered the stillness, cutting through the thick tension like a blade. ¡°What a real asshole!¡± she barked from across the room, her tone seething with disdain. ¡°A real fat, incel prick!¡± She gripped the handlebars of her chair, shaking her head. ¡°What kind of asshole pretends to be chill, then shows his racist-ass colors when it suits him?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s status at the academy had twisted and turned so many times it felt like he was caught in a storm, dragged this way and that without ever touching solid ground. Sirine. That name cut through his thoughts like a blade. When was the last time he had thought about her? A year? Two? The memories came flooding back¡ªsharp edges dulled by time but still aching in a way that made his stomach churn.

    And then there was Iman.

    Iman.

    How could she have known about Sirine? No one here should have known. Yet, as his eyes darted toward her, searching for answers, he froze. She already knew where his gaze would land.

    Iman leaned back in her chair, raising a lazy thumbs-up and flashing a carefree smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes. It was the kind of smile that sent shivers down his spine¡ªa smile full of secrets.

    Iman¡­ no¡­ she couldn¡¯t be¡­

    ¡°Enough of this.¡± Clarissa¡¯s voice snapped through the air, cutting like a whip. She stood abruptly, her hands pressing against the sides of her thighs, fingers curling in tension. ¡°This isn¡¯t a duel to the death. So fine, then¡ªI¡¯ll fight on Earth House¡¯s behalf.¡± Her voice lingered on the last words, dragging them out like a stone across gravel.

    The room was dead silent until a masculine voice broke through from somewhere in the crowd. ¡°President Clarissa,¡± he called out, steady and loud, ¡°you¡¯re a talented pilot, no doubt. But Atticus is an ace¡ªa goddamn war vet. Let someone else have the glory.¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s head snapped toward the crowd, her eyes blazing as she scanned the sea of faces. Her tone turned ice-cold, slicing through the tension with deadly precision. ¡°Shut the hell up. Who the hell even are you?¡± Her words hit like gunfire. ¡°When I find you¡ªtwo demerits!¡±

    Her voice echoed in the stunned silence that followed, and even the boldest members of House Earth couldn¡¯t bring themselves to meet her gaze. The air was thick, the weight of her authority pressing down like a heavy stone.

    Finally, she straightened, brushing imaginary dust off her uniform as though she hadn¡¯t just shaken the room to its core. ¡°Good, then. It¡¯s settled. We start¡­ immediately at daybreak.¡±

    <u>Edward</u>

    Before, House Mars had hardly anything to its name. The boys had to scrape by with what little they had. Even now, Henryk¡¯s piloting gear was stashed haphazardly between the communal locker room and House Mars¡¯ meager storage.

    He had expected Edward to be there, ready to kill him.

    Henryk was tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of guy whose presence filled a room even when he said nothing. Colony-born, he had the hardened look of someone who¡¯d grown up wrestling the universe itself¡ªbut there was an ease to him, too. He could spend hours gaming on his PC, relaxed and distant, but this? This was different. This was new, even for him.

    The Academy was old, older than most of the houses that called it home. Centuries of modernization hadn¡¯t stripped it of its skeletal cement bones, and Henryk¡¯s boots pounded against the cold, unfeeling floor. Fluorescent light flickered and caught on the gleam of his zipper as he walked past rows of lockers, hundreds¡ªno, thousands¡ªlined like a cold, gray labyrinth.

    And there he was. Edward.

    Edward stood like a statue, fists balled at his sides, dressed in the deep gray, utilitarian suit of House Mars. The shameful red trim marked him like a scar, a reminder of failures Henryk didn¡¯t have to ask about. The red ink, however dishonored, was still threaded through Henryk¡¯s own flight suit. To him, it looked beautiful¡ªproud and strong, a reflection of something noble. The Sons of Mars.

    For a brief moment, Henryk¡¯s eyes flared as his mind reached back to the past. It had to mean something, didn¡¯t it? They had fought together. Rescued hundreds, maybe thousands, in that hellish moment. They had been heroes, hadn¡¯t they? But the gnawing doubts returned, the flicker of insecurity, the whisper of trauma telling him otherwise. Was I wrong about them? About myself?

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Edward called softly.

    Leaning against a locker, Edward let out a long breath, pressing a hand to his forehead. He looked worn, defeated¡ªnothing like the loud, cocksure leader Henryk remembered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Edward began, his voice low. ¡°If I¡¯d known¡­I would¡¯ve¡ª¡±

    Henryk ignored him for a moment, gripping the lock on his locker. His eyes drifted over the graffiti scratched across it: mutant, abomination, freak. The words clawed at him like ghosts he couldn¡¯t shake.

    ¡°I dishonor my father,¡± Edward said suddenly, his voice louder, as if the admission had been torn from him.

    Henryk froze, his fingers still on the lock. Slowly, he turned his head. ¡°Huh?¡± His brow furrowed as realization dawned. ¡°What the hell does that mean? Aren¡¯t you the son of some great Knight?¡±

    Edward let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Fuck, man, you don¡¯t even know half of it.¡± He sighed deeply, the weight of his confession pressing down on him. ¡°Joe¡­shit. What I¡¯m trying to say is, I should¡¯ve known you were struggling. Back in the day, we scouted guys like you¡ªlike the others¡ªbut everything¡¯s changed. It¡¯s been¡­different. Difficult.¡±

    Henryk paused, his hand still on the lock. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to the side, pressing the button on his helmet¡¯s visor. He lifted the helmet, looked inside it, and swung it to his side. ¡°I know,¡± he said simply.

    Edward almost crumpled at the simplicity of the response. He stared at Henryk, then down at his own hands, clenching them into fists. ¡°It feels like ten years have passed since we got here,¡± Edward stammered, his voice uneven. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize running House Mars would be this difficult. I should¡¯ve listened to the damn squirt when I had the chance¡­¡± His voice trailed off, his fists tightening.

    ¡°Why are you doing this, Henryk? We were in the clear for a bit¡­ Christ. Even Jace finally let go of what his sister accused you of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Jace is never going to let it go,¡± Henryk interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Edward. His tone was cold, clipped. ¡°This¡­ this whole game of Houses. It needs to end. What does getting rid of Piper do for anyone? For anything? Hell, it only serves to make the Empire weaker!¡±

    His voice echoed through the empty locker room, bouncing off the walls like gunshots.

    Edward¡¯s eyes widened at the outburst, stunned into silence.

    Henryk didn¡¯t stop. His voice rose, driven by something raw, something deep. ¡°This whole time I¡¯ve been at this school, nothing¡ªnothing¡ªhas made sense. From the classes to the teachers to the students. Hell, even the dorms don¡¯t add up. I knew this place was beyond a normal school. I knew if I succeeded here, it would mean something. But I didn¡¯t¡­I didn¡¯t realize the cost would be this high.¡±

    Edward stood there, silent for a moment. Then, his voice broke through the stillness, quiet but firm. ¡°...Me too,¡± he admitted, his voice faltering. His hands curled into fists, knuckles white.

    ¡°I apologize, Henryk. I really am.¡±

    Ed sighed, trying to force a smile, but it came out brittle, cracking under the weight of something deeper. And then Henryk saw it¡ªsomething he didn¡¯t expect. Edward Wolfsheim, the man who had thrown himself into Henryk¡¯s warcasket to save a girl they barely knew. The leader of the once-proud House Mars. The Son of a Great Knight.

    And he was crying.

    The tears came suddenly, sliding down Edward¡¯s face as if they had caught him off guard. His hands moved feverishly to wipe them away, scrubbing at his cheeks like they weren¡¯t even there, but it was too late. Henryk had seen them.

    ¡°Edward¡­¡± Henryk¡¯s voice softened, and for the first time in what felt like days, weeks maybe, the anger, the fear, the looming duel¡ªit all fell away. Those words Edward had spoken hung in the air like a knife suspended over his chest.

    Ed let out a short, surprised chuckle, though it sounded more like a bark than laughter. ¡°This is rich¡­ You know something, Henryk? They¡¯ve all got their shit to say about you. Every single one of them. But the truth is, you should¡¯ve been the one here. In this position.¡±

    His words spilled out like a flood, his breath hitching as he fought to keep his composure. Henryk, for his part, stood still, his eyes narrowing, his jaw tightening. ¡°What position?¡± he asked flatly, his tone edged with barely contained frustration.

    Ed sneered, looking away as if the answer was too much to face. He turned to the rows of utilitarian lockers stretching around them like an endless maze of cold steel. ¡°Here. Leading House Mars. They needed someone like you,¡± he said, his voice low, raw. ¡°Not me. I¡¯m stuck in the past, clinging to the old ways. They needed someone fresh. Someone who could take what¡¯s good about House Mars, but leave behind the bad. Someone who could learn from the mistakes of the old and never repeat them.¡±

    His shoulders slumped, the tension draining from him. His gaze dropped to the floor as his fists unclenched, trembling slightly at his sides. ¡°But now, I¡¯m realizing something, Henryk. All my hopes, my dreams¡ªevery goddamn aspiration I ever had for this house¡ªthey might not be undone,¡± he said with a bitter chuckle, ¡°but even if I pull off that one-in-a-million shot¡­ even if I succeed¡­ what happens then? What about the ones who come after us? Will they just make the same damn mistakes?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened, his brows furrowing in confusion. ¡°Edward, you aren¡¯t making much sense¡ª¡±

    ¡°I ain¡¯t,¡± Edward snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through Henryk¡¯s words like a blade.

    Henryk blinked at the outburst, momentarily caught off guard. But there was no anger in his expression. No fear. Just surprise at the unexpected turn of events. Ed, usually so composed, so unreachable, was laying it all bare. This wasn¡¯t the commanding leader, the unshakable figure everyone saw at the front of the room. This was something different. Something intimate.

    Henryk couldn¡¯t even remember the last time they had properly talked. Sure, there were moments¡ªbrief, fleeting. Sirine, the kitchen, the mess hall. They trained together. Ate next to each other. Spoke in passing. But Ed was always busy, and he only got busier as time went on.

    Before, Henryk had thought he¡¯d found a friend in Edward. But somewhere along the way, he¡¯d made peace with simply following at his side, cosigned to loyalty and promises of good service. That was enough.

    Until now.

    ¡°Yeah, you aren¡¯t,¡± Henryk said, his voice steady, cutting through the tension. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong. I hear your worries. I really do. But first off¡ªI¡¯ve got a duel right now. And second¡­¡± He paused, his expression hardening as he locked eyes with Edward. ¡°That¡¯s all shit we can deal with later.¡±

    Ed let out a low, sarcastic snicker, his gaze drifting to the fluorescent lights above them, their cold hum filling the silence. It wasn¡¯t humor¡ªit was bitterness, sharp and biting.

    ¡°That¡¯s real rich, Henryk. ¡®We¡¯ll deal with that later.¡¯¡± He shook his head as if the words left a sour taste in his mouth.

    Henryk sneered, his patience wearing thin. ¡°What, you think you¡¯re the only one going through problems?¡± He jabbed a finger to the side of the room, pointing at nothing in particular but driven by instinct, frustration boiling over. ¡°We all have our shit going on, Ed. You¡¯re just pissed because things aren¡¯t falling into your hands like you thought they would.¡±

    Ed¡¯s head snapped back, his expression hardening. ¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± he shot back, his voice sharp and deliberate. ¡°I knew this would be difficult. I knew it the second I stepped into this mess.¡± He raised his palm as if to physically ward off Henryk¡¯s words, then let it drop, his voice dipping lower. ¡°And that¡¯s real rich, coming from housemates who can¡¯t even figure out what the hell they want to do. You know¡­¡± Ed¡¯s voice caught, and his eyes narrowed. ¡°If you or the squires had pulled a stunt like that where I¡¯m from, even that tiny little outburst would¡¯ve gotten you either booted or killed.¡±

    The words hit like a whip crack, the echoes bouncing off the locker-lined walls.

    Henryk froze, his arms instinctively crossing over his chest. ¡°Where I¡¯m from,¡± he began, voice steady but laced with steel, ¡°you can call bullshit when you see it. You don¡¯t just shut up and let it slide because of some medieval crap.¡±

    Henryk stepped forward. He was tall, but standing before Ed¡¯s Martian-enhanced physique, he had to crane his neck slightly to meet his gaze. Even so, he didn¡¯t flinch. His voice sharpened. ¡°¡­And Ed, do you really think that¡¯s right? That it¡¯s what your culture should be?¡±

    Ed faltered. The words left him stunned, his gaze dropping to the scuffed tile floor.

    ¡°No. Face me,¡± Henryk demanded, his tone cutting through the air like a blade.

    Edward Wolfsheim¡ªthe young man who had been raised to near godhood, trained to embody the strength of a culture born of blood and conquest¡ªfelt a shame he hadn¡¯t expected. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted his eyes and met Henryk¡¯s.

    ¡°I will not ask again,¡± Henryk said, his words heavy with finality. ¡°Edward Wolfsheim.¡±

    Ed¡¯s shoulders sagged, the anger fading from his face. What replaced it was harder to read¡ªan exhaustion deeper than physical fatigue. He took a slow breath, steadying himself before he spoke.

    ¡°You make good points,¡± Ed admitted, his voice quieter now, as if the fight had been drained out of him. ¡°About the battle maidens, about some of the policies. But Mars is a feudal world. The Knights of Mars. Kings, queens, Henryk¡ªit¡¯s not just a show. It¡¯s history. Ancient treaties were drafted between the old emperors and the first Kings of the Red Moon. Mars has to stay a feudal world. If it doesn¡¯t¡­¡± He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment. ¡°¡­While I can and will change things that don¡¯t make sense, the spirit of this planet¡ªmy culture¡ªhas to survive. It¡¯s essential.¡±

    Henryk stared at him, unblinking. ¡°Why?¡± he asked flatly.

    Ed looked at him, confused by the simplicity of the question.

    ¡°Enough with the secrets,¡± Henryk pressed, his tone rising, not in anger, but in raw frustration. ¡°Just tell me. Because honestly, Ed, I¡¯m tired of this. I¡¯m too tired for the high school secrets. Just freaking say it. Why? Why is it so important that¡ª¡±

    Ed sneered, his lip curling as if the weight of the words tasted bitter. ¡°Same thing Bea told me¡ªalmost word for word.¡± His voice was sharp but low, like a blade drawn just enough to warn. ¡°It¡¯s because the Knights of Mars are the only thing standing between humanity and extinction.¡±

    His hands dragged down his face, the motion slow and weary, as if the effort to explain it all was more than he could bear. ¡°Has everyone been living under a damn rock? The only reason the universe, the Emperor himself, and the royal family have tolerated House Mars for so long are the things on our backs!¡±

    Ed¡¯s hand shot up, his thumb aimed at the small, sharp protrusions beneath his uniform, lightly pressing against the fabric. The spikes folded into him like dormant quills, alien yet oddly alive.

    Henryk¡¯s gaze lingered, his mind wandering in spite of himself. He wondered how much of it was physical. Was it like hair¡ªsomething you knew was there but didn¡¯t feel, not in the same way? Or was it like an extra limb, a finger or toe? The spikes looked small, almost harmless, but they weren¡¯t human, not entirely. Henryk had known that from the first time he¡¯d seen them. Deep down, he knew they weren¡¯t some simple mutation. How right he was.

    He was lost in his thoughts when Ed¡¯s voice cut through, sharp and biting. ¡°We were the best of the best,¡± Ed said, his tone hardening. ¡°We put down rebellions, crushed uprisings, brought entire worlds to heel. Don¡¯t get it twisted¡ªwhen the other houses faltered, our worlds never rebelled. And when they did¡­¡± Ed¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°¡­there was punishment. Swift and brutal. That¡¯s what certain Knight Orders did to ¡®unreasonable worlds.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Punishment?¡± Henryk repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse.

    Ed didn¡¯t respond immediately, his gaze distant. Instead, he pressed on. ¡°The Xeno Wars¡ªyou¡¯ve heard of them.¡±

    ¡°Everyone has,¡± Henryk said, keeping his voice neutral.

    Ed gave him a sharp look. ¡°Well, sometimes you don¡¯t seem all that schooled in history, Henryk,¡± he said, and there was just enough condescension in his tone to make Henryk¡¯s jaw tighten. But Henryk let it go. He wasn¡¯t here to fight over pride.

    Ed continued, his voice carrying an almost rehearsed rhythm, like he¡¯d told this story to himself a thousand times before. ¡°Those damned alien conflicts. Not like the GrimGore¡ªthose were just beasts. No, these were far worse. Smarter. Crueler. Emotional. And it was the Knights of Mars who stood against them. Our sons. Our fathers. All of them carrying these damn spikes.¡± He touched them again, his expression grim. ¡°We carry the bloodline of centuries of heroes. But do you know the cost? Do you know how many of us were scarred¡ªhow many worlds were shattered¡ªbecause of it?¡±

    Henryk could hear the anger breaking through Ed¡¯s voice, but there was something else there too. Grief.

    ¡°My people¡­we were forced into a feudal society. It wasn¡¯t a choice¡ªit was survival. Can you even imagine the sacrifices we¡¯ve made? And I believe we can move past it. I do. But you¡­you must be the Executor, Henryk. You have to.¡±

    The words hit Henryk like a physical blow. Executor. The weight of the title felt like it could crush his chest. But he shook his head, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles burned.

    ¡°Enough!¡± he shouted, his voice reverberating off the cold locker-lined walls. ¡°Before, I was entertaining the idea. But is this really what it¡¯s like to be a Knight of Mars?¡± His voice rose, raw and bitter. ¡°Is this what you¡¯re asking me to be?¡±

    ¡°Henryk¡­¡± Ed began, his voice faltering.

    ¡°No!¡± Henryk snapped, cutting him off. His chest heaved, his voice trembling with rage and desperation. ¡°Stop this talk of heroes. What¡¯s going to happen to my sisters if I go, huh? What are you going to tell them? What will you tell my mother?¡±

    Ed turned away, his silhouette swallowed by the cold fluorescent light. But Henryk wasn¡¯t done. His voice cracked like a whip in the silence. ¡°You say this life isn¡¯t for you¡­then just quit!¡± The words spat out like venom as he whirled away, taking long strides toward the door.

    Ed¡¯s hands sank into his pockets, his shoulders tightening as he spun back toward Henryk. His voice dropped, laced with mockery. ¡°¡­And that¡¯s it, then?¡± He tilted his head, his lips curling into a sneer. ¡°You¡¯re just going to quit like that?¡±

    Henryk barely turned his head. His voice was calm, deliberate, but the words came with a bite. ¡°Yeah¡­fuck it. We ball.¡± His hand gripped his helmet, sliding it over his head with a firm click that echoed in the hollow room.

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened, and the disbelief in his tone gave way to anger. ¡°You son of a bitch. Then why the hell are you fighting this duel? Huh?¡± He stepped forward, his words gaining momentum. ¡°Why drag the House¡¯s name further into the mud if you¡¯re just going to walk away?¡±

    Henryk stopped in his tracks, standing at the threshold of the open door, the soft glow of the hallway¡¯s ethereal blue light wrapping around him like armor. ¡°Because I won¡¯t abandon my friends,¡± he said quietly, his voice steady, almost resigned.

    Ed laughed bitterly, his voice sharp enough to cut. ¡°Oh, friends, huh? You call those guys your friends?¡± He stepped closer, his hands emerging from his pockets and curling into fists. ¡°They may be chill now, Henryk, but what happens when there¡¯s a House war? When we¡¯re on missions and they¡¯re staring down the barrel at you? What then?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s voice carried no hesitation. ¡°House Pluto fought by our side just the same.¡±

    Ed¡¯s expression darkened, his voice dropping low like a distant storm. ¡°They despise us, Henryk. They despise what they see in you¡ªwhat they fear you could become.¡±

    Henryk turned, his brows knitting together in confusion, his jaw tightening. ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes narrowed, his gaze steady and cold. ¡°You know enough of our history to get it,¡± he said. ¡°The darkness of it. What we did to House Pluto¡­what Damien did.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s breath caught, and his chest tightened as if an unseen weight had dropped on him. ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    Ed¡¯s voice turned wistful, as though lost in a memory. ¡°The King of Mars¡­he chose Damien. And you want to know why?¡± He paused, the words lingering in the air like a shadow. ¡°All the Kings of Mars¡ªthey held the Presidential position. Every single one of them that lived long enough to reach the age of Feudal society. That¡¯s a little-known secret.¡±

    He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting to the reflective gleam of a locker¡¯s metal surface. When he spoke again, his tone softened, like he was seeing something Henryk couldn¡¯t. ¡°Oh, Henryk¡­as horrible as it sounds, there¡¯s nothing like watching a Martian sunrise. That red, beautiful world¡­¡± He chuckled darkly, but there was sadness beneath it. ¡°What those damned Xenos did to our planet in the dawn of the 21st century¡­they cut our population in half. Mars bled. But afterward? These new worlds, these Earths¡ªthey gave us hope. The castles, the maidens, it was like a fairytale wrapped in blood and steel. Legions of knights bonded with the power of the spikes, fighting wars and battles that shaped the stars.¡±

    He stopped, his voice faltering. A small, proud smile crossed his lips. ¡°My father¡­my father fought in those wars. He was the greatest of them all.¡±

    And somehow, in that moment, Henryk found himself smiling too. It was small, hesitant, but it was there. Yet the smile didn¡¯t last long. As he mulled over Ed¡¯s words, the pieces began to fall into place, forming a picture he didn¡¯t want to see. His stomach twisted.

    ¡°The Presidents were Kings?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice was low, cautious, like he was testing the waters of an unfamiliar depth.

    Ed sighed, his hand brushing over his own spikes as if they carried the burden of centuries. ¡°I knew who you were, Henryk J. Brown¡­¡± He paused, tilting his head slightly. ¡°Or is it Fitzgerald? Or something else?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened, the color draining from his face. ¡°You¡­how did¡­¡± His voice faltered, trailing into silence.

    Ed¡¯s gaze locked onto him, unflinching, unyielding. He tapped his shoulder, right where the spikes would rest if they were his. His voice was soft but unwavering. ¡°You think House Mars doesn¡¯t know its own?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be¡­¡± Henryk began, his voice trailing off as disbelief flickered across his face.

    ¡°You really think I just randomly showed up in that booth?¡± Ed interrupted, his tone sharp, almost condescending. ¡°Henryk J. Brown. Age eighteen. Born on some backwater world lucky to have WiFi. Steam account name is¡­what was it again? Oh, right¡ªDoZy Euta. Very French, mind you.¡± Ed smirked. ¡°And that¡¯s your producing name too, isn¡¯t it? You going to tell that girl from House Mercury about that?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s breath hitched. He didn¡¯t reply, but Ed pressed on, unrelenting.

    ¡°Henryk, I¡¯ve been watching you for a while now. The only reason we haven¡¯t talked much was because I needed to at least set the foundation. But now¡­¡± He gestured dramatically. ¡°We¡¯ve got mechs. You¡¯re out of that rust bucket. Things are looking up.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Ed smiled, but Henryk¡¯s face dipped, his expression unreadable. ¡°So¡­it¡¯s ready?¡± Henryk muttered.

    ¡°Patched up by Bea to the best of her ability. You like that loadout?¡± Ed asked, trying to keep his tone casual, his eyes searching Henryk¡¯s face.

    Henryk paused, the gears in his head turning. Ed could tell this was his moment to let him breathe, to focus on something practical for a change. Something tangible.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit too bulky,¡± Henryk admitted, his voice thoughtful. ¡°I can see it working in specific scenarios, but I¡¯d probably be weighed down by the tank cannon. My evisceration weapon¡­¡±

    ¡°Your father¡¯s,¡± Ed interjected, his voice softening slightly. ¡°It¡¯s been patched up by Bea. It¡¯s a work of art.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes blazed for a moment, but the intensity quickly shifted into unease. ¡°Ed, this is weird.¡±

    ¡°I know it is,¡± Ed replied, his smirk fading into something more serious. ¡°But there are people watching you, watching us. The true heir to the throne¡­¡± His voice lowered, almost a whisper. ¡°Henryk, if humanity keeps on like this¡ªbeing led by the Eunuch Emperor¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Eunuch Emperor,¡± Henryk interrupted, his tone sharper now. ¡°You keep repeating that. There are people who listen, Ed. People who take their loyalty to the Empire very seriously.¡±

    Ed snorted. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were such a supporter of the regime.¡±

    Henryk crossed his arms, letting out a derisive laugh. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you aren¡¯t set in your loyalties. Wikipedia and some of the guys¡­¡±

    ¡°Axel and the others don¡¯t see it that way,¡± Ed cut in. ¡°But hey, time has a way of changing things.¡±

    ¡°Ai,¡± Henryk muttered, shaking his head. ¡°So this is what it¡¯s come to, huh? Friendship? Manipulation? This is how I¡¯m going to spend my time at the academy¡­with House Mars.¡±

    He turned away, his steps deliberate, his shoulders stiff with anger. ¡°No thanks,¡± he spat, flipping Ed the middle finger as he walked. ¡°You had me pegged as a fool. All this talk of honor¡­I actually believed it for a second. Thought maybe I could¡¯ve been like my father. A hero. A knight. All that chivalry, all those ideals. I¡¯ve got a mom, you know. Two sisters. I¡¯ve read the same damn knight books you have, had those same dreams. But Ed¡ªthose dreams you want to manifest? They¡¯re ugly.¡±

    He turned his head slightly, his voice cold as ice. ¡°The spikes are shoved into young men, turning them into genetically engineered super soldiers. The process is repeated over and over, and mutations run rampant. This feudal society you hold so dear¡ªit¡¯s rotting. The universe didn¡¯t respect you, Ed. It feared you. And sometimes¡­¡± He paused, his voice breaking slightly. ¡°Sometimes, I just don¡¯t want to be a part of it.¡±

    Henryk clenched his fists and took another step toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for Piper. Nothing else.¡±

    The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant hum of machinery.

    And then, Ed¡¯s voice shattered it. ¡°Henryk, I was not lying!¡± he shouted, his tone filled with raw ferocity. His words echoed in the room, trembling with emotion. ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck who hears me now! Don¡¯t you dare sound so high and fucking mighty! My father, my grandfather¡ªevery single boy in our House, except for the squires, was raised hard. Not by choice. All we¡¯ve known is death.¡±

    Ed¡¯s voice cracked, and he took a step forward. ¡°They, we, I¡ªwe¡¯re here to rebuild. To create something good again. And if you don¡¯t see that¡­then go!¡±

    Henryk paused for a moment, his back still to Ed. He didn¡¯t turn around, didn¡¯t say another word. He just walked away, his boots echoing against the floor.

    Ed stood frozen, watching him disappear. His hands trembled as he dropped to his knees, his voice barely above a whisper now. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Henryk. I¡¯m the reason why they all hate you,¡± he choked.

    He stared at the floor, his vision blurring. ¡°I just wanted to be a knight again. Like my father. I wanted to uphold the rites of chivalry, to defend a maiden.¡± His voice broke, and he let out a bitter laugh, tears streaking his face. ¡°But you¡­you were not the Antlered Knight.¡±

    <u>Marcus</u>

    They were spring-locked and thrown, their mobile suits careening through the false gravity of the artificial arena. The crowd murmured, a sea of mixed expressions as they watched the trio in action: Piper¡¯s orange-red mech, blazing like a falling comet; Atticus¡¯s, shining gold with streaks of white-hot plasma; and Henryk¡¯s¡ªsleek, efficient, a military-grey war machine that moved like a predator in the brush.

    The tank cannon had been stripped from Henryk¡¯s loadout, granting him greater speed and maneuverability. His thrusters flared with blue, a color that burned with a distinct brilliance compared to the standard fuel streams. He smirked behind the visor of his cockpit, feeling the pulse of the machine, savoring the freedom of motion. In his left hand, he gripped a beam rifle, its barrel sleek and glinting. In his right, a submachine gun¡ªits angular design a modern echo of old World War II German engineering.

    ¡°What the hell is he wearing?¡± Iman asked from afar, pointing toward Henryk¡¯s mech with a slight tilt of her head.

    She and Marcus had drifted to the sidelines, keeping their distance from the throngs of spectators. Unlike the benches of orientation¡ªpacked with wide-eyed cadets sizing up their peers¡ªthis arena was different. Here, the choice was stark. Some watched from the fringes, while others avoided it entirely. But there were always deviants. There were always those who reveled in the bloodsport, drawn to the way the bouts skirted the line between sport and slaughter.

    Marcus squinted, his gaze narrowing on Henryk¡¯s mech. Something about it stood out. ¡°It¡¯s a¡­tabard,¡± he said after a pause.

    ¡°A tabard?¡± Iman¡¯s brow arched.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Marcus said. ¡°It¡¯s something knights used to wear¡­back in the day. To show off their heraldry.¡±

    Iman turned to him, crossing her arms. ¡°Never took you for a history buff,¡± she remarked, her tone half-teasing.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t know shit about the Knights of Mars before¡­¡± Marcus trailed off, his voice faltering as his eyes returned to the battlefield.

    Iman glanced at him, her curiosity piqued, but she let his hesitation linger unchallenged. She leaned against the cold steel of the banister, her bright orange academy jacket standing out against the muted grey of the arena. The chill of the metal seeped into her caramel skin, but she didn¡¯t move away. Her green eyes¡ªrare and almost unnaturally vibrant¡ªgleamed in the artificial light, framed by her twin pigtails that spilled forward over her chest.

    Her gaze drifted back to the fight. Henryk¡¯s mech moved like a blur, its grey armor a shadow among the more vibrant suits. The tabard fluttered behind him, a small but deliberate touch that seemed to speak volumes. Iman¡¯s voice softened, thoughtful now. ¡°Does he always have to be so¡­extra?¡±

    Marcus chuckled quietly, but it lacked humor. ¡°Henryk¡¯s not one for subtlety.¡±

    In the arena, the three mechs collided in a flurry of fire and steel. Piper¡¯s orange-red suit darted forward, the blaze of her boosters cutting a stark path. Atticus countered, his gold mech surging in with brutal precision. And Henryk? He hung back for a moment, calculating, before lunging forward, a streak of blue thrusters and controlled aggression.

    Iman¡¯s voice cut through the background noise of the crowd. ¡°Still¡­he¡¯s got something, doesn¡¯t he? That edge. Like he¡¯s fighting for more than just the match.¡±

    Marcus didn¡¯t respond right away. His eyes lingered on Henryk¡¯s mech, watching the way it moved¡ªefficient, ruthless, but almost graceful. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said finally. ¡°But sometimes, that edge cuts too deep.¡±

    Her eyes locked on him, sharp as a blade poised to strike. ¡°Tell me, Marcus,¡± she said, her voice low but deliberate.

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened, his lips parting to respond, but the words snagged in his throat. ¡°¡­you,¡± he managed, though the word sounded hollow, almost pleading.

    She sighed, the weight of it like a stone dropping into still water. ¡°Stop it. You, of all people¡­ Wizards, Witches, Star Children, Astrisants,¡± she said, her tone laced with something close to exhaustion. Then, almost as if the air between them had grown too thick, she turned sharply, her gaze flicking back to the battle unfolding before them.

    She could see them on the other side of the arena¡ªthe boy, Jose, Clarissa, and¡­

    Something tugged at her, an unfamiliar pull, like a whisper just on the edge of hearing. She didn¡¯t know what moved her or why, but she could feel it. Something within the veil, something even Henryk, with all his power, couldn¡¯t see.

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± She paused, narrowing her eyes as if to focus on something distant. ¡°Who¡¯s piloting that mech?¡± she asked, pointing upward.

    Within the cockpit, Jaicob laughed¡ªa raw, grating sound, his one visible eye glinting under the shadow of his black eyepatch. ¡°I¡¯m gonna kill you, you fag mutant!¡± he shouted, the venom in his voice matched only by the sneering faces of those around him.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Marcus hesitated, his voice cracking under an invisible weight. ¡°Iman, I know what you are, but you have no right.¡±

    Iman didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°You think I like this?¡± she said, her voice tightening, sharp and trembling like the edge of a blade about to snap. ¡°You think I asked to be able to read into people¡¯s heads? It happens, Marcus. Sometimes it happens even more with people who are¡ª¡± She stopped, catching herself, before stepping closer. Her presence was intense, magnetic, though she didn¡¯t touch him. Instead, she stared into his eyes, her gaze unflinching. ¡°Marcus¡­ Margaret is not good for you.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened, then narrowed, his jaw tightening. He shook his head as though trying to physically shove the idea away. ¡°I¡ªI¡­ we are not having this conversation right now,¡± he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. He waved his hand as if to swat her away. ¡°We¡¯re talking about Piper losing everything. All that rank and fame, straight to the streets. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re struggling with Lucas¡¯s death,¡± she interrupted, her voice quieter now but piercing all the same. ¡°There¡¯s a sadness in you, Marcus. I can feel it. A great sadness. You¡¯re strong, but¡­¡± She hesitated, searching his face. ¡°How is this going to affect you in battle?¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes narrowed, his jaw working as if chewing through her words. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°When was the last time you entered a Warcasket?¡± she asked, her tone flat but pointed.

    His eyes widened, a flicker of panic flashing across his face. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I won¡¯t,¡± she said quickly, her words spilling out like a dam about to break. ¡°But that¡¯s not it, is it? Something happened out there, Marcus. When you were captured. Why are you hanging out with Henryk? How the hell did you even stumble upon¡ª¡±

    ¡°We were¡­¡± Marcus sighed, the fight draining from his voice. ¡°I forgot. You weren¡¯t around back then. You were gone. On a mission. You and the¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Iman said, her eyes narrowing as memories stirred. ¡°I missed that whole thing. Zephyr and Clive, that whole mission¡­ fucking mess.¡±

    ¡°W-wait,¡± Marcus stammered, his eyes darting to her. ¡°Clive? Zephyr sent a whole battalion to assist Clive?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Why?¡± she asked, her tone suddenly cautious.

    Marcus exhaled deeply. ¡°Fine then. You tell me where you¡¯ve been, and I¡¯ll tell you where I¡¯ve been.¡±

    Iman crossed her arms. ¡°I was at Clive. We were raiding backwater worlds, looking for artifacts. But Clive didn¡¯t find anything of use. Total waste of time. We lost two guys out there¡­ but hey, that¡¯s just life.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s gaze lifted to her, something darker now swimming in his eyes. ¡°We were captured by Jacen¡¯s pirates,¡± he said, his voice tight. ¡°For¡­ like a day. Just a day¡­¡±

    ¡°I heard about that,¡± Iman said, her gaze dropping, her voice quieter now. ¡°I know. That kind of thing¡ªgetting captured¡ªit changes people. It always does. And never in a good way.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky if you¡¯ve got insurance,¡± Marcus muttered, his hand drifting to scratch the back of his head. ¡°First thing I did when I hit planetside was radio home. My mom practically passed out seeing me again.¡± He paused, his voice trembling. ¡°You know what it¡¯s like seeing your own gravestone?¡±

    Iman¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°¡­And they sent you back here?¡± she asked, incredulous.

    Marcus looked away, his jaw tightening again. ¡°Imperial law states that all academy students who pass their first year can become honorary citizens of their house¡¯s main or sub-worlds. You know this. If I gave up¡­ my whole family would be displaced. I¡¯ve got to graduate. I¡¯ve got to make this work.¡± His arms tightened, fists clenching at his sides.

    Iman stared at him, her brow furrowed in thought. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have been gone for just a day¡­¡± she started, her voice trailing off. Then her head snapped up. ¡°Wait. A day by them¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Marcus, stop being cryptic. What happened to you? Your eyes, everything about you¡ªit¡¯s like you¡¯re dragging something back with you.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s hands trembled, his eyes wide and blazing red and white, as if lit by an inner storm. His voice dropped, low and haunted. ¡°I don¡¯t know what we encountered out there,¡± he said. ¡°But it was the Knights of House Mars who saved us that day.¡±

    And in the silence that followed, Marcus¡¯s mind filled with the sound of Nailer Fire, relentless and unending.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Henryk¡¯s submachine gun crackled, a rapid staccato of gunfire tearing through the artificial vacuum. The asteroid field was dense, a minefield of floating debris, and he moved through it in bursts¡ªlaunching, boosting, landing, running. Again and again. His thrusters flared, a burst of blue flame propelling him forward as two opponents closed in behind him.

    ¡°Piper¡­ Atticus, what the hell are you doing!?¡± Henryk shouted, his voice ragged through the comms.

    He landed hard on a jagged rock just as Jaicob¡¯s missile came screaming toward him. The Venusian¡¯s machine was sleek and predatory, its purple frame slithering through space like a spear cast from the heavens. Henryk had never fought a Venusian before. He¡¯d heard stories. None of them were comforting.

    Jose was just some kid from a colony world¡ªjust like Henryk. And yet, here he was, laughing over the comms as his machine fired twin elbow-mounted launchers, the payload streaking toward Henryk like twin fangs.

    Henryk twisted away, his thrusters burning at full tilt as he shot upward, barely slipping past the explosion. ¡°Damn it!¡± His fingers gripped the controls so tight his knuckles went white. He darted a glance at his console, at the sluggish readout of his own speed.

    ¡°Even with the damn missile launcher removed, this thing still isn¡¯t fast enough.¡± He slammed his head against the headrest in frustration. ¡°Damn it all!¡±

    The sense¡ªinstinctual, primal¡ªcoiled in the back of his skull, an urge whispering at the edge of his thoughts. Move. He didn¡¯t think, just acted. His mech dipped, weaving into the wreckage, scattering debris as he maneuvered through the thickest patch of floating ruin.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°Henryk, relax,¡± a voice cut through the chaos, smooth and unmistakably Australian. ¡°We¡¯ve got my cunt of a sister to deal with first.¡±

    Clarissa¡¯s machine emerged from the black, a nightmare of steel and fire. Her tank mech was something different, something unnatural. Instead of treads, it hovered, outfitted with specialized thrusters that let it glide effortlessly through zero gravity. On her back, eight missile launchers gleamed, their stubby mechanical arms pivoting and locking on. A grenade launcher bristled from her left side, a minigun spinning on her right, spitting tungsten rounds into the void.

    Her cockpit flared forward in a sharp V-shape, an executioner¡¯s blade bearing down.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy being the only sibling, Atticus!¡± Her voice was raw with fury, heavy and unyielding.

    Piper veered wildly, her mech caught in a haze of fire. The orange paint seared off in great strips, peeling away under the onslaught. ¡°Holy shit¡ªthis is what you guys were packing in Earth House?¡±

    ¡°A hybrid-tank Warcasket,¡± Atticus barked. ¡°Clarissa¡¯s custom-built that thing into a fucking death machine. We¡¯ve got to hit her between the gaps. Focus the missile launchers first, or we¡¯re dead!¡±

    Henryk could hear the strain in her voice, the urgency.

    ¡°Henryk, we¡¯re handling this. You¡¯re a Knight of Mars, right? I¡¯ve heard stories about what you people can do.¡±

    The words hit him like a slap.

    ¡°Damn you!¡± Henryk¡¯s voice cracked, something raw and panicked breaking free. ¡°I ain¡¯t one of them¡­ I can¡¯t¡ªI can¡¯t¡­¡±

    His protests died as a missile screamed toward him, its vapor trail slicing through the void. He barely had time to react before the impact sent him spiraling, his body jerking violently in his harness. His mech slammed hard into an asteroid, the metal groaning under the force. Stars exploded in his vision as his head cracked against the cockpit frame.

    ¡°What the hell is he doing?¡± Axel¡¯s voice cut in from afar, sharp with confusion. ¡°This isn¡¯t how he fought at Oceana.¡±

    Arthur was silent, his eyes fixed on the screen, watching. Witnessing. Henryk¡¯s mech, battered and flaring, drifted unsteadily. His thrusters plumed blue fire, but the shield surrounding him flickered, unstable. For a moment, it was there¡ªvibrant and strong. Then, it shuddered, phasing in and out like a dying ember.

    Something was wrong.

    And Arthur knew it.

    Henryk tried to blast off, but both mechs were on him. They moved in perfect synchrony, beam blades drawn, the energy crackling against the void as they lunged¡ªaiming straight for his cockpit.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡ªthat¡¯s an illegal hit,¡± someone muttered from afar, voice tinged with unease. Even in a training duel, a strike like that could kill. The head was the only legal target, that was the rite, the rule. But Henryk¡­

    Iman saw it happen.

    Her mind¡¯s eye flashed¡ªa searing bolt of green light in the darkness. And through that split-second vision, Henryk saw it too.

    Through the blood trickling down his temple, through the splintered crack in his visor, through the numbing weight of impending unconsciousness¡ªhe saw.

    For just a moment, his fingers slipped from the controls, and the world behind his eyelids was not his own.

    It was hers.

    He saw the galaxy, not as stars and planets, not as war and bloodshed, but as threads¡ªgolden, living, tethered together in a vast, intricate weave. He saw the currents that bound all things, the silent, invisible forces moving beneath the surface of reality itself. It was beautiful. Terrifying.

    There wasn¡¯t even a name for what they were.

    And yet, that didn¡¯t matter.

    A Knight of Mars¡ªno, a Druid of Mars¡ªthat had a better ring to it. A title that could have brought honor, greatness. But was that what he wanted? Was it worth the cost?

    No.

    His mother. His sisters. His colony.

    They were the reason he was here. They were his strength. His foundation. His people.

    His tribe.

    And from that truth, he pulled something deep, something raw and primal.

    ¡°In¡­ one¡­ fell¡­ movement!¡±

    Henryk¡¯s voice roared¡ªnot just through his comms, but through every mech, through every cockpit, through the very bones of those present.

    A ghostly crackle echoed through the comm channels, and Clarissa¡¯s hands trembled on her controls. The sound¡ªhis voice¡ªmade her breath hitch, her eyes widen, something etheral clawing at the edges of her mind.

    Jose and Jaicob froze. Their breath hitched, their chests seized as if some unseen force had clenched them in a vice. Their Warcaskets buckled under the sudden, instinctual terror.

    Piper¡¯s hair whipped as she twisted away, her gut lurching with the memory¡ªthis power¡­ She had felt it before. She had tasted it. It had maimed her.

    Her gaze snapped toward the lapse in Clarissa¡¯s missile barrage. She could see the flaw, the gap¡ªher console flashing red-hot with calculations, with trajectory readouts. She could mainline it into her eye, take it all in at once.

    Her mind flashed to Ernest. To his warnings.

    Her fingers hovered over the command.

    She sneered.

    And she didn¡¯t do it.

    Instead, she moved.

    Her thrusters flared, a hard roll to the right, but the minigun was too close¡ªspitting tungsten rounds as it shredded through her mech¡¯s left foot, then chewed into the upper leg of her bipedal Warcasket.

    She grit her teeth, adjusted¡ª

    Pulled the trigger.

    The bazooka¡¯s blast roared through space, and the shot rang true.

    Clarissa¡¯s Warcasket was thrown backward, sent spiraling into the asteroid belt, vanishing into the chaos of dust and shattered rock.

    ¡°Good job, Piper!¡± Atticus shouted, his mech diving in a cleave, beam blade ignited in a blinding arc.

    But Clarissa wasn¡¯t done.

    One of the stub arms of her Warcasket snapped upright, a beam blade flashing to life just in time to meet his strike. Sparks spat in every direction as the two weapons crashed together, locking in a molten embrace.

    Clarissa was still rattled, her reaction sluggish¡ªAtticus took advantage, snapping a kick into her V-shaped visor. Her head whipped back, cracking against an asteroid with a dull, sickening thud.

    He moved to finish it¡ªa side cleave aimed to carve her down.

    But Clarissa cut her engines.

    She dropped, gravity-free, her thrusters dead silent¡ªuntil she unleashed a storm of missiles straight at him.

    ¡°Ha¡­ got me, sis,¡± Atticus grunted.

    His shield flared, absorbing the barrage, but it was too much. The impact threw him across the battlefield, airbags detonating inside the cockpit as his Warcasket was ripped apart. By the time he stopped tumbling, it was nothing but a limp corpse¡ªno limbs, no head, just a ruin drifting in space.

    The intercom blared.

    ¡°Atticus of Earth House. Defeated by Clarissa of Earth House.¡±

    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± Edward exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. He turned to Henryk and Piper. ¡°Come on, Henryk. You¡¯re the only one who can fly high enough, right?¡±

    Henryk didn¡¯t answer.

    He slammed his thrusters forward, his rockets streaking past the two opposing mechs. But instead of pulling for distance¡ª

    He howled.

    The submachine gun dropped from his grip. He wrenched his father¡¯s evisceration weapon free.

    Diamond-tipped chains screamed as they whirled to life, gnashing hungrily against the void.

    The Venusian mech never stood a chance.

    Henryk tore through it like butcher¡¯s steel through bone, shearing off Jose¡¯s left and right legs in one brutal sweep.

    ¡°You think you¡¯re hot shit? You¡¯re dead!¡± Jaicob roared, lunging.

    Beam blade met evisceration weapon, energy and steel clashing in a brutal deadlock. They separated, heat shimmering between them.

    Jose fumbled for his beam rifle¡ª

    Henryk drove both feet into his cockpit, a savage, two-legged kick that sent Jose careening into a tangled nest of asteroid debris.

    Jaicob came again.

    Harder this time.

    They slammed their throttles, both Warcaskets twisting, spinning, their weapons powering against one another, their engines whining in protest.

    Even now¡ªeven after everything¡ªa mass-produced Mars Warcasket was holding its own.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna die here, you hick mutant!¡± Jaicob spat.

    Henryk didn¡¯t answer.

    Didn¡¯t need to.

    His sneer curled, both hands tightening on his blade¡¯s handle. He forced harder, his muscles straining, thrusters bucking against the asteroid¡¯s gravity.

    Jaicob screamed as his back slammed against the asteroid. Sweat beaded across his brow.

    And Henryk¡­

    ¡°I can smell your fear, Jaicob.¡±

    The voice didn¡¯t come through the radio.

    It was inside his head.

    Jaicob¡¯s breath hitched.

    ¡°W-what?¡± he stammered, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest. His mech groaned beneath him, the rockets straining, sputtering under the force. He could hear them wrenching.

    ¡°Small men like you¡­¡± Henryk¡¯s voice was everywhere¡ªcoiling through the static, thick as smoke. ¡°Quick with your words. Quick with your torture. But when it turns onto you¡­ you fear.¡±

    Jaicob could hear his rockets whining.

    Could feel them dying.

    And then¡ª

    Henryk jerked.

    A searing pain exploded through his left side.

    His eyes widened.

    His left arm¡ªgone.

    From the elbow down, nothing remained but blackened slag and sparking wires.

    A stray beam blast had ripped through him.

    Henryk kicked his thrusters into full reverse, breath ragged, chest heaving as he stared at the damage. He barely had time to process before his comm blared to life.

    ¡°You good?¡±

    Jose¡¯s voice.

    Inside Jaicob¡¯s cockpit.

    ¡°Y-yeah¡­¡± Jaicob¡¯s voice was shaky. He swallowed hard, his body trembling, his trousers damp.

    Jose exhaled. His mech was barely functional¡ªlegs severed, his only propulsion now coming from his back rockets. But in zero-g, that was more than enough.

    His eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Keep pressing him,¡± Jose said. ¡°He¡¯s already down to one arm. Put him down.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°Remember¡­¡± Jose¡¯s voice was a low, measured thing.

    ¡°One good shot.¡±

    Jaicob exhaled sharply.

    ¡°That¡¯s all we need to make it look like an accident.¡±

    Jaicob nodded. ¡°Of course. For your mother and colony, right?¡± His voice was steady, but the words carried a quiet weight.

    Jose hesitated.

    Then, slowly, he nodded. ¡°Sometimes, you¡¯ve got to step on those like you to move up in this universe.¡± His voice was colder now, resigned. ¡°That¡¯s just the way humanity is.¡±

    With that, he clicked his visor down, sealing himself away behind the black glass. His face vanished, his expression gone¡ªjust a voice in the void now.

    And then he charged.

    The beam rifle kicked in his grip, a burst of light searing across the black. Henryk¡¯s blue rockets flared in the expanse, twisting and burning to stay ahead of the barrage.

    Piper was breathing hard, each inhale ragged. She ripped her helmet off, sweat-slicked hair spilling free. Then the jacket came next, tossed aside.

    ¡°Fuck it,¡± she muttered.

    Henryk was out there, being hunted.

    She exhaled, long and slow.

    ¡°If we don¡¯t win this¡­¡± Piper¡¯s fingers curled into fists. ¡°My life¡¯s down the drain anyway.¡±

    She hovered, the mech gently shifting beneath her.

    From afar, Iman¡¯s voice cut through the intercom.

    ¡°What the hell is she doing?¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Ernest¡ªshe¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ernest?¡± Iman repeated. ¡°The lead engineer?¡±

    Piper didn¡¯t hear them.

    She pressed a thumb against her false eye, rolling it back ever so slightly. Then, with her other hand, she gripped the red wire and snapped it into place.

    A click.

    No jolt this time. No sharp, shocking pain.

    Instead¡ª

    It was like coming alive.

    Like a defibrillator to the chest, like breath hitting dead lungs. A sensation that sent something warm and electric curling through her stomach, something she couldn¡¯t name but almost¡ªalmost¡ªenjoyed.

    Her head snapped forward, breath ragged, pupils blown wide as the wire trailed from her cheek like a scarlet tear.

    ¡°You wanna play?¡±

    Piper licked the blood from her lips, nostrils seeping red.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a fucking show.¡±

    And then she dove.

    Thrusters cut, gravity took, and she fell.

    ¡°Damn you!¡± Clarissa roared, her entire canopy of weapons erupting.

    Missiles. Rail rounds. Beam fire.

    All of it.

    Piper punched the throttle.

    Her Warcasket responded¡ªlike it knew her now, like it was alive with her, an extension of her nerve endings. She zigged, zagged, burning through space at impossible angles, dodging through the storm of gunfire with a speed that shouldn¡¯t have been possible.

    ¡°This shit shouldn¡¯t even be fair!¡± Piper¡¯s laugh crackled through the radio, manic and breathless. ¡°That thing you¡¯re piloting? That ain¡¯t a damn school fighting Warcasket!¡±

    Clarissa had no time to respond.

    Piper moved like something unleashed.

    She twisted, whipping past, her bazooka kicking against her shoulder as she fired, her own rounds screaming back at Clarissa.

    From the distance, Marcus could only stare.

    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡±

    Margaret¡ªwho had been scanning for Marcus just moments ago¡ªfroze in place.

    The others watched, their expressions a mix of awe, terror, disbelief.

    Piper howled inside her cockpit.

    She pulled the trigger again.

    The shot slammed into Clarissa¡¯s mech helmet¡ªblood splattered inside the cockpit, fast, sudden.

    Piper saw red.

    Beam blade drawn¡ª

    She spun.

    A single, flourishing cleave.

    Clarissa¡¯s mech lurched, her Warcasket¡¯s head separating from the body in a clean, burning slice.

    Both mechs fell.

    Clarissa¡¯s cockpit tumbled into the void, spinning wildly. Piper¡¯s own mech was drifting, its movements sluggish, weak.

    Piper could only watch, her vision swimming. She smirked, but it was lazy, unfocused.

    ¡°¡­Huh,¡± she murmured, voice slurring as blood trickled from her nose. ¡°That¡­ hasn¡¯t happened before.¡±

    The cockpit swayed. Her arms felt leaden. Her head lolled.

    She exhaled, closing her eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s all up to you now, Henryk.¡±

    Darkness took her.

    Jose kept firing, his Venusian mech weaving through the black, beam rifle scorching the dark in rapid bursts. Jaicob¡¯s Warcasket veered left, then right, dodging the supercharged blasts, each shot a fraction too slow to connect.

    ¡°Hit the mutant!¡± Jaicob snarled into the radio, panic bleeding into his voice.

    Henryk ignored him.

    He took aim¡ªnot at Jaicob, but at the asteroid beside him. His Martian rifle hummed, then fired, the shot detonating the rock in an explosion of dust and shrapnel.

    Jaicob howled, his mech lurching sideways, caught in the sudden blast wave.

    Henryk snapped his body around, using the force of his thrusters to spin himself midair. He twisted, realigning himself¡ªnow directly facing his two approaching enemies.

    Jose and Jaicob.

    The battlefield was narrowing.

    Henryk lifted his last remaining arm, rifle aimed squarely at Jaicob¡¯s cockpit. He barely had to adjust¡ªJaicob was coming straight at him.

    For a split second, Jaicob knew.

    He was cooked.

    Henryk had him dead to rights. The shot lined up, the moment stretched out. Jaicob could almost see the trigger squeeze, feel the purple plasma slicing through his hull, vaporizing him before he even knew what had happened.

    But Henryk hesitated.

    Not out of mercy.

    Not even out of doubt.

    But because, for a brief moment, his mind flickered¡ªunbidden, unwanted¡ªto the image of her. The enigmatic orange-haired girl.

    Piper.

    Henryk didn¡¯t know why, but it was enough of a delay that something inside him clenched. Old-world rules. Old-world honor. This was a duel¡ªa game, for all its brutality. Killing Jaicob outright in front of everyone, in front of his house, in front of her¡­

    He didn¡¯t need to.

    Didn¡¯t want to.

    But still¡ª

    His finger twitched.

    A bright flash erupted from the muzzle.

    The beam lanced through Jaicob¡¯s mech, striking the head unit. The Warcasket pitched, trailing smoke, slamming into an asteroid with bone-rattling force before bouncing back into open space, spinning, burning.

    ¡°Someone¡ªget a recovery team out there!¡± A voice cracked over the comms, panic barely contained. House Neptune¡¯s members lurched to move, but then came the snickers.

    The other houses¡ªVenus, Earth, Mars¡ªthey laughed.

    Neptune had lost. Again.

    And suddenly, Henryk felt it.

    This wasn¡¯t just a fight between students. This wasn¡¯t just House Earth versus House Venus.

    This was bigger.

    Something was wrong.

    But before the thought could root deeper¡ª

    Jose barreled toward him, his rifle still firing even as the barrel glowed with heat. It was overheating, but he didn¡¯t stop, not until the weapon clicked, drained.

    ¡°Just lay down and die like a dog, Henryk Brown!¡±

    Jose¡¯s voice was raw with fury as he ripped his beam blade from his back.

    Henryk didn¡¯t hesitate. His own evisceration weapon hissed to life, its diamond-edged chains whirring, screaming as he brought it to bear.

    They clashed¡ª

    A storm of wild, frenzied blows.

    Henryk threw a brutal kick, but Jose barely flinched, slamming his throttle forward, dragging Henryk with him as they spiraled in a violent grapple.

    Henryk twisted, drove his knee into Jose¡¯s cockpit. The impact sent a shudder through the frame.

    ¡°Take this!¡± Henryk snarled, twisting his body and slamming an elbow into Jose¡¯s mech.

    Jose reeled, tried to break away¡ª

    But Henryk was on him.

    Chasing him down.

    ¡°Where you running, Jose?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice crackled over the radio, mocking now. ¡°You out of shit to talk?¡±

    Henryk swung, his evisceration blade coming down¡ª

    Jose lifted his beam saber to block¡ª

    And then twisted, cracking back with the blade in a feint.

    A trap.

    ¡°Why are you fighting me?!¡± Henryk¡¯s voice cracked as he roared through the comms, his Warcasket thrusters sputtering as he pushed forward. ¡°I¡ªI know you, Jose!¡±

    Jose¡¯s laughter was sharp, bitter. ¡°You know me? You don¡¯t know shit!¡± His voice spat static. ¡°We were just two losers who sat next to each other. You don¡¯t mean anything to me.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s grip tightened on the controls, his breath coming short and ragged. ¡°So all that talk¡ªabout our mothers, our backgrounds, all of that¡ªit was nothing?¡±

    A pause.

    For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of fire, the distant hum of engines. Then, Jose¡¯s voice came low, steady.

    ¡°I¡¯m capable of doing whatever I need to succeed.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s sneer twisted into something colder. He whipped his Warcasket¡¯s leg around, the heavy metal foot crashing into Jose¡¯s mech, sending him reeling. Both machines slammed into the void, thrusters sputtering as they fought for control.

    Jose recovered first, his beam blade carving an arc of burning light as he lunged.

    Henryk reacted instinctively.

    He didn¡¯t think.

    Didn¡¯t hesitate.

    His hand snapped up in a counter-feint, twisting Jose¡¯s strike wide. Jose tried to correct, raising his arm to block¡ª

    Too late.

    Yellow light erupted around Henryk¡¯s Warcasket like a dying sun, electric arcs dancing from his fingers to the edges of his evisceration weapon. His body burned, every nerve screaming¡ª

    And then, so did Jose.

    Henryk¡¯s blade tore through the cockpit, shearing clean through Jose¡¯s mech from thigh to stomach, from chest to opposite shoulder. The severed arm spun away in a slow, floating spiral.

    The silence stretched.

    Henryk stumbled back, panting, blinking hard as his vision wavered between the blinding light and the twisted wreckage before him.

    His hands shook.

    The Warcasket¡¯s servos whined as he forced himself to look at what he¡¯d done.

    ¡°Guys¡­ I¡ªI did it¡­¡± His voice cracked, but no one responded.

    No cheers. No cries of victory.

    Only silence.

    Then¡ª

    BZZZT.

    Sparks erupted from the wound in Jose¡¯s mech, pilot lights flickering¡ªone last desperate grasp at life before¡ª

    Fire.

    The explosion ripped through the suit, flames blooming outward in a violent cascade, consuming the machine in an instant. The force sent Henryk reeling, the plume of smoke and ash scorching the paint from his Warcasket, burning his tabard to charred ribbons.

    He watched, breathless, as the last pieces of Jose disintegrated.

    The comms were dead silent.

    And then¡ª

    ¡°Henryk¡­¡± Piper¡¯s voice cut through the static, trembling.

    He barely heard her.

    The voices swirled in his head¡ªechoing, overlapping, warping. He felt them, heard them, but they found no purchase.

    Henryk screamed.

    He screamed like a wounded animal, raw, unrelenting.

    ¡°Henryk!¡± Piper called again, but he wasn¡¯t listening.

    He was seeing.

    The way the other pilots were staring. Not at Jose¡¯s wreckage¡ªno, not anymore.

    At him.

    At what he¡¯d done.

    What he was.

    The fear in their eyes crawled up his spine like ice.

    Even the ones on his side¡ªMarcus, Iman, even Margaret¡ªthey stared. Like he was something else. Something other.

    ¡°Henryk, look at me!¡± Piper¡¯s voice cracked this time. ¡°You¡ªYou lost control! You¡ª¡±

    He couldn¡¯t breathe.

    Jose¡¯s scream still lingered. He could hear it, somewhere beneath the static, beneath the hum of his failing thrusters.

    And suddenly, he wasn¡¯t screaming anymore.

    He was just¡­ staring.

    At the charred void.

    At the pieces drifting away.

    At nothing.

 Chapter 12 - Stay With Me I

    <hr>

    Chapter 12 - Stay With Me I

    <hr>

    It was the charred corpse that turned Henryk¡¯s stomach. The smell¡ªgod, the smell¡ªwas unlike anything he had ever known, a sickly mix of burned flesh and scorched fabric, the reek of something that should never have been reduced to ash. His gut clenched, bile surged, and he doubled over, vomiting onto the academy floor.

    He hadn¡¯t known his own strength.

    How¡­ How could this have happened?

    Jose¡ªJose was gone. Everything he could have been, everything he had yet to become, snuffed out in a burst of flame and fury.

    Henryk knew Jose had been wrong, knew that the words he spat had been tainted with the academy¡¯s sickness. But still¡ªthis? The Academy was diseased, rotting from within. And this was what it did to people.

    He turned sharply, yanking the zipper of his pilot suit down to his waist, peeling himself free of the straps as he strode forward. The crowd split before him, whispering, watching, their eyes wide with something caught between awe and fear.

    The Druid of House Mars lay behind him, smoldering.

    ¡°Henryk¡­,¡± Piper¡¯s voice wove through the murmuring mass, her head bobbing in search of him, but he didn¡¯t slow.

    From the throng, Anderson saw her and called out, hesitant. ¡°H-Hey, shouldn¡¯t we¡­ congratulate the winners?¡± His voice wavered, but Piper barely heard him, already pushing through, already chasing after Henryk.

    High above them, unseen, a white-haired girl stood beneath the grand ceiling, her gaze sharp, her scowl deeper than shadow. The darkness curled around her, unseen but present, a silent, waiting thing.

    ¡°I agree,¡± Iman¡¯s lips curled as she licked them, too delighted, too hungry for what had just unfolded. Her gaze lingered on Henryk.

    The crowd shifted, some murmuring, others gawking, as Gerald, the House Captain of Pluto, barked a laugh. ¡°Purple-ass fuck got clipped!¡± His voice boomed over the gathered students, his squadmates howling alongside him. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for messing with Henryk and his crew!¡±

    And yet, even as House Mars seethed with its own rage, even as centuries of hostility between their people and Pluto burned hot, there was something else¡ªsomething quieter, heavier. They had seen it. They had all seen it.

    Henryk had reminded them what a Space Knight truly was.

    But was strength supposed to be measured like this?

    Stella of House Neptune watched, her lips pressed into a thin line, something uncertain flickering in her eyes.

    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± someone sneered. The voice was sharp, edged like a blade. Logan. ¡°Should¡¯ve tossed me in there. Would¡¯ve turned it into a show against Henryk.¡± His words landed with a snap, his tongue cutting at the final consonant.

    Stella barely looked at him. ¡°And what? You¡¯d bring out your daddy¡¯s ARC Core?¡± Her voice was ice as she turned toward him, the weight of her stare enough to pin him where he stood.

    Logan sneered right back. ¡°What¡¯s your deal? You¡¯re usually not this pissed.¡±

    She turned away, arms wrapping tight around herself, her gaze drifting toward the President of House Pluto. ¡°¡­I¡¯m realizing that Henryk J. Brown is not going to be as easily disposed of as we thought.¡±

    Across the way, where House Venus gathered, Jace and his crew lounged atop their bikes, laughing, watching as Henryk disappeared into the crowd.

    ¡°Oh, you thought they were actually friends?¡± Hannah sneered from her perch, one hand gripping the handlebars.

    Jace and his lieutenants hooted, hollered, reveling in the chaos, in the show of force. But not all of them.

    Mags sat at the edge of it all, shoulders trembling, eyes fixed downward.

    A single tear slipped down her cheek.

    ¡°J-Jose¡­ why?¡±

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Henryk¡¯s footsteps creaked along the worn stairs, the sound swallowed by the weight pressing down on him. The others were waiting. Watching.

    "After all this time¡­ for fucking Jose?"

    Ed¡¯s words repeated in his mind, gnawing at him, even as he slipped from the office.

    They were all there. The true Knights. But it was Axel and Arthur whose gazes lingered the longest, sharp as knives, dissecting him.

    Arthur was the first to speak. ¡°I thought you had the capability to become like us, Henryk.¡± He clapped his hands together, slow, deliberate, his eyes wide and alert, the glint of something unreadable lurking in them. ¡°This is not what it means to be a Son of Mars, Henryk Brown.¡± He held his voice steady, but the restraint was there, the edge of a yell he was forcing back.

    Henryk met their stares. ¡°¡­Who do you guys genuinely think I am?¡± His voice was low, measured. He let the silence stretch before casting a glance across them all.

    They were arranged in a half-circle, the squires included. Even Kieren, who was grinning like a man who already knew the punchline.

    Then he spoke.

    ¡°A little bitch!¡± Kieren¡¯s voice cracked the moment, split it open. He laughed, and others followed, their laughter curling through the air, but not all of them joined in. Some remained standing, arms crossed, unreadable. Yet¡ª

    ¡°Fuck you, Kieren.¡± Mateo¡¯s voice cut through the noise, sharp but too high-pitched, betraying a tremor beneath the rage.

    His dark hair framed narrowed eyes, blazing as they locked onto Kieren, unflinching even as Kieren sauntered back into the fold.

    ¡°Don¡¯t any of you get the weight of a human life?¡± Mateo¡¯s voice carried, filling the space, demanding something from them. ¡°What, is it so wrong that Henryk can fight GrimGar but doesn¡¯t want to spill human blood? People¡¯s lives mean something. But to some of you¡­¡± His gaze swept the room. ¡°Murder to rise in the ranks is everything.¡±

    Henryk lowered his eyes.

    A breath. A beat.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°So, Henryk, you¡¯ve got to tell me¡­¡± Isaac¡¯s voice was light, easy, but the words had a weight to them. ¡°If a guy came at you with a beam blade, you¡¯d just take it?¡± He squared his shoulders, flashing a smile like it was a challenge.

    ¡°Isaac¡­¡± Joseph¡¯s voice hung in the air, uncertain, but he didn¡¯t stop him.

    Isaac pressed forward. ¡°Because I saw your fucking ass down there, tearing through GrimGar like it was nothing.¡± He threw out his arms, gesturing to the gathered Knights. ¡°I thought we had a brotherhood down here, man! You fought with us, bled with us! You¡¯ve gained fame, wealth from this!¡± His voice rang through the chamber, and then, quieter, almost to himself, ¡°I won¡¯t lie¡­ sometimes, I like the idea of being a Knight. The riches. It makes it more appealing than being a soldier.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s stomach twisted. His fingers curled, shaking before he pulled them back, like touching anything might burn him. ¡°I-Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, Isaac?¡± His voice was strained. ¡°That what we¡¯re doing is worth it? Bro, I could¡¯ve fucking died today. I have real enemies here. High-status assholes I should be planets away from. And I can be.¡±

    ¡°¡­You speak of the Venusian Princess and her brother?¡± August¡¯s voice was quiet, measured.

    Before Henryk could answer, Axel¡¯s voice cut in, sharp, careless.

    ¡°Or maybe¡­¡± He leaned in. ¡°He¡¯s dealing with that prick Logan of Neptune. Or that bastard, Jay¡­ or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Jaicob,¡± Ty finished, shaking his head.

    The space between them thickened. Henryk scanned their faces, unreadable but watching, weighing him in ways he wasn¡¯t sure he could stand.

    Then, with barely a sound, Mateo stepped forward.

    He stood by Henryk¡¯s side.

    And a second later, Ty moved too.

    Henryk¡¯s breath caught. His fingers clenched at his sides.

    A pause, then a voice from the crowd. Maybe Axel. Maybe Isaac.

    ¡°Of course, the mutants would stand together.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s face twisted, his lip curling in something close to disgust.

    ¡°Betrayer¡­¡± He exhaled the word, carving out each syllable in a whisper.

    Ty¡¯s face twisted up, his eyes burning. ¡°Damn it, Arthur!¡± His voice snapped through the air like a whip. He turned on them all, gaze sweeping the gathered Knights. ¡°I am a Son of Mars, just like you. These spikes on my back? They¡¯re the strength of my lineage. The same spikes you have¡ªthey¡¯re mine as well. A dynasty a thousand years in the making. A promise of a golden prince.¡±

    His words hit like a hammer. The room fell into stunned silence, tension thick enough to cut.

    Ty exhaled sharply, then turned to Henryk. ¡°Henryk Brown has saved my life. He¡¯s fought beside me, beside all of us. We owe him the chance to speak. There are other paths besides becoming a Knight of House Mars, Henryk.¡±

    ¡°Huh¡­ not a Knight?¡± August muttered, eyes narrowing.

    Ed¡ªsurprisingly¡ªnodded along. ¡°I¡­ suppose. There¡¯ve been times we¡¯ve taken great minds instead. Serfs, if you will.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s breath hitched. His stomach knotted. ¡°Serfs? You mean fucking medieval slaves?¡±

    Ed blinked, thrown off. ¡°Whoa, where the hell did you get that from?¡± He turned, gesturing vaguely. ¡°Joseph, you need to get this guy on his history lessons more.¡±

    Joseph exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°I¡¯m busy dealing with Arthur and Isaac.¡±

    Ed shook his head, annoyed. ¡°Fine. Whatever. Axel¡ªif Henryk stays, you¡¯re on him for sword, mace, and rifle training. Also, history. He¡¯s good enough in combat, but he¡¯s clueless otherwise. Arthur, same goes for Kieren.¡± He gave the younger man a curt nod.

    Kieren¡¯s golden-red hair fell in front of his eyes. Even Henryk found himself stealing glances. He was all rippled, lean muscle now, and the shift was unsettling¡ªbefore, Henryk had stood a little taller. Now, he had to tilt his chin up to meet Kieren¡¯s gaze.

    Kieren stepped forward, voice rising. ¡°I say we let him go!¡± He jabbed a thumb into his chest, grinning. ¡°I have the Spikes¡ªthat makes me leading Executor, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Silence.

    Then every gaze turned to him.

    Ed tilted his head. ¡°Well¡­ you did get the spikes the quickest,¡± he admitted. ¡°¡­but we would¡¯ve waited months. Maybe years before giving them to you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s got a point,¡± Arthur said, voice clipped. ¡°You¡¯re still planned to be a squire. You will function as one.¡±

    Kieren held his proud smile as he looked up at Arthur and the other Knights, but Henryk could see it¡ªthe slight tremble at the corner of his mouth, the way his breath hitched for just a second too long. He was trying to suppress something primal, something clawing at the inside of his ribs.

    Like a beast that wasn¡¯t yet welcomed among the pack.

    Not yet.

    And he best not show his fangs too soon.

    Kieren said nothing else. His voice died in his throat.

    Then Henryk shot up from his seat, hands pressing into the table. ¡°What happens if I die?¡±

    The room stilled. All eyes turned to him.

    His chest rose and fell, breath uneven. ¡°Arthur¡¯s already missing parts of himself. We barely escaped Oceana.¡± His voice cracked at the end.

    He swallowed hard, turned to Ed. ¡°Edward,¡± he said, quieter now. ¡°Listen, man. I appreciate what you did for me. I¡¯d have been expelled¡ªfuck, killed¡ªif you guys didn¡¯t step in when Logan came after me.¡± He exhaled shakily, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯re right. I can do this. I want to do this. But this reality¡­¡±

    His hands curled into fists.

    ¡°My mother already buried two of my fathers.¡± His voice dropped, just above a whisper. ¡°And I am her only son.¡±

    ¡°Then go to your mother.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s voice was warm again¡ªbut curt this time, like a blade dulled just enough not to cut.

    Henryk lifted his gaze. Arthur¡¯s smile still held warmth, but something lingered beneath it, something raw. ¡°We¡¯ve all lost our fathers,¡± Arthur continued, his voice filling the room. ¡°But after the fall of Mars, we lost our mothers too.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened as his gaze swept through the gathered Knights. He hadn¡¯t realized it¡ªhadn¡¯t truly understood it until now.

    Arthur exhaled. ¡°The only ones in this room with a surviving mother are August. And Axel¡¯s mother¡­ she passed not long ago, on one of the moons of Venus.¡± His voice dipped slightly, but he pushed forward. ¡°All my brothers are dead. All my sisters too. So you¡¯re right, Squire¡­¡± Arthur hesitated, then let the word drop. ¡°No. Henryk.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s mechanical fingers curled around Henryk¡¯s shoulder, heavy and unyielding.

    ¡°This is a Hail Mary. A full-bore suicide run. Call it a banzai charge, call it whatever you want¡ªbut we¡¯re going to make them bleed for what they did to us.¡± His fingers tightened. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to be a part of that.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s breath hitched.

    Edward had been watching them, but now he saw it¡ªthe grief buried deep in the Sons of Mars. He¡¯d mistaken their fire for something else, but it wasn¡¯t just rage. It was the last, desperate struggle of men clinging to the hope that vengeance could make them whole again.

    And Henryk¡­ Henryk was slipping away.

    Not just Henryk.

    Others, too.

    And Edward realized, then, that this house¡ªhis house¡ªmight soon stand empty.

    And if that happened¡­

    It wouldn¡¯t just be the death of the Knights of Mars.

    It would be the death of Mars itself.

    A slow, creeping extinction that would stretch its fingers into the dark corners of the universe, until all that remained was silence.

    Edward refused to let that happen.

    He slammed his fist down onto the desk with enough force to splinter the wood. The sound cracked like a gunshot. ¡°A sector for every man in this room,¡± he roared. ¡°Not just a kingdom¡ªan empire.¡±

    The room froze.

    ¡°What?¡± Henryk breathed.

    The others shared the same stunned reaction.

    ¡°You stay with me,¡± Edward continued, rising to his feet. ¡°And I will give you all the full, unrestricted right to govern your own sector¡ªas you see fit.¡±

    Axel folded his arms over his chest, jaw tightening. ¡°You¡¯re¡ªno, you¡¯re fucking with us. There¡¯s a catch. There¡¯s always a catch.¡±

    Isaac¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re just going to give us entire worlds? Just like that?¡±

    Edward snorted. ¡°If that¡¯s what keeps you here, then yes. When the Knights of House Mars are reinstated, the Empress¡ªthe true heir to the throne¡ªwill award us the right to an empire.¡± He let the words sink in. ¡°That means our greatest dream¡ªone of them, at least¡ªwill be complete.¡±

    Arthur¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°You mean to rebuild Mars in a sector?¡±

    Isaac laughed. A dry, humorless sound. ¡°No, buddy.¡± He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s bigger than that.¡±

    He turned to the others, eyes alight with something sharp.

    ¡°Every sector will be connected,¡± he said, voice low. ¡°That¡¯s the catch. Imperial law never let us stack like that before.¡±

    Edward let the words settle before speaking. ¡°Imagine the industry. Certain worlds for crops. Certain worlds for forges. And all of them under your command. Each world will follow the same tariffs, the same taxes as the Knights and Lords of before. You will be nobility. And through you, your bloodline will carry the ancient rites of rule.¡±

    He turned his gaze, locking eyes with Henryk, with Tyson, with Mateo.

    ¡°Now tell me¡ªis there anything more I can offer you?¡±

    Henryk stared. They all did.

    Because this¡ªthis was the kind of power most men could only dream of. The right to rule. The god-given mandate to stand above the rest.

    Four connected worlds. Each one bound to them, answering only to them.

    It was everything.

    It was too much.

    Because in the end, there was only one way to rule.

    Through fear.

    The Knights of Mars would be the enforcers of that fear.

    But Henryk¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t.

    He couldn¡¯t.

    He could be better.

    Arthur might run his world like a feudal kingdom, but Henryk¡ªhis worlds could be different. He could build them up. He could advance them. He could do more than just carve a space for his family and colony in the empire¡ª

    He could move the whole damn planet underneath House Mars itself.

    Mateo broke the silence. His voice was cold. ¡°What would we need to do to make that possible?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Everyone turned.

    ¡°That kind of power?¡± Mateo shook his head. ¡°That kind of control? No one gets that handed to them. So tell me, Ed¡ªhow are you going to obtain it? Because everything I¡¯ve ever been told says there¡¯s only one Emperor.¡± His voice dropped lower. ¡°And right now? You sound like a turncoat. Like a fucking Martian of old.¡±

    And Henryk¡ª

    Henryk remembered.

    The secrecy. The whispers.

    The long nights spent in dim-lit halls, surrounded by men who were supposed to be friends. Supposed to be brothers.

    Scheming.

    Conspiring.

    ¡°Want to know?¡± Edward murmured.

    His green eyes caught the firelight, the glow flickering across his face. The room darkened, as if something unseen had leaned in closer.

    As if the past had drawn breath.

    The ghost of dead fathers laughed from the corners of the room, whispering in the shadows, pointing with skeletal fingers at their sons.

    And Henryk¡ª

    Henryk broke.

    He turned, shoving open the doors, the weight in his chest pressing down like a dying star.

    Tears burned in his eyes as he fled.

    And behind him, his father¡¯s shadow clung to his back.

    Heavier than ever before.

    <u>Marcus</u>

    ¡°Are we gonna get shot just being here?¡± Iman asked, standing close to Marcus.

    Marcus had his hands pressed against the rusted bars, his fingers idly scraping flakes of iron. He shook his head slowly. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re more chill than you think. And hey, I thought you didn¡¯t mind Henryk.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Iman said, her voice carrying an edge. ¡°But I have heard what Martians are capable of.¡± She hesitated, arms crossing over her chest. ¡°I just didn¡¯t think you guys were friends with them.¡±

    Marcus turned, his eyes widening slightly as he spotted Henryk approaching from the side entrance. The fence groaned in the wind, all rust and decay, as he and Iman turned to face him.

    ¡°Henryk,¡± Iman called out, her voice shifting, sadness creeping in. ¡°Is it true? Are you really leaving?¡±

    Marcus could hear the strain in her tone¡ªhow forced it was, how much she didn¡¯t want to sound like she cared too much.

    Henryk didn¡¯t answer.

    He just shifted his duffel bag higher along two fingers and kept walking, heading straight for the side door.

    ¡°Henryk, come on,¡± Marcus pressed, stepping forward. ¡°There are other options besides just quitting.¡±

    Iman scoffed, tilting her head back like she couldn¡¯t believe what she was hearing.

    ¡°¡­See, Henryk,¡± she started, her voice taking on a biting, almost cocky edge. ¡°The only reason you weren¡¯t allowed into House Mercury was because¡­¡± She paused, tilting a thumb toward herself. ¡°Because I wasn¡¯t there.¡±

    Marcus stiffened.

    ¡°Now,¡± she continued, ¡°Zephyr is gonna listen to me. Everyone knows that bitch is crazy, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Iman,¡± Marcus cut in, his voice sharper than he meant it to be.

    But Henryk wasn¡¯t looking at Marcus.

    He was looking at her.

    And for all her bravado, she didn¡¯t see the way his expression shifted¡ªthe way something dark flickered behind his eyes.

    Marcus did.

    And in that moment, something unspoken passed between them.

    Henryk wasn¡¯t just leaving because of some opportunity.

    This had been coming for a while.

    Maybe Marcus had ignored it, maybe he just hadn¡¯t wanted to see it¡ªbut it was there. The way Henryk moved, the way he hesitated, the way his gaze swept over them both like he was weighing something in his mind.

    It wasn¡¯t just House Mercury. It wasn¡¯t just Zephyr.

    It was everything.

    It was nights he shouldn¡¯t have spent drinking. It was choices he shouldn¡¯t have made. It was Iman¡¯s body pressed against his, things he never should¡¯ve let happen, things he could never take back.

    Ed¡¯s words echoed in his mind: Don¡¯t mix between houses.

    Henryk had dismissed it at the time. But now?

    Now he wasn¡¯t so sure.

    Were they allies? Or just obstacles in his way?

    He had nearly killed Logan. Nearly killed Jose, too.

    Henryk exhaled through his nose, gripped the handle of his duffel bag tighter.

    ¡°I¡¯m going back home,¡± he said, slow and measured, his eyes dropping to the ground. ¡°I got offered the kind of deal you don¡¯t turn down.¡± His voice was quieter now, like he was speaking more to himself than them. ¡°Even then, I¡¯m just¡­ thinking about my family. Thinking about what all of this even means.¡± He shook his head. ¡°It was a good run. I wish I could¡¯ve piloted alongside you and Marcus properly, but I still need to turn in my resignation.¡±

    He reached for the door.

    Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.

    ¡°¡­It¡¯s okay, bro,¡± Marcus said, voice softer now. ¡°After I lost Lucas, I just¡­¡± He trailed off, his throat tightening around the words.

    Henryk turned, watching him.

    Marcus swallowed. ¡°You were a good friend,¡± he finished, voice rough. ¡°And I wish you could¡¯ve met him. He already thought you were quite the guy.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s expression shifted¡ªjust slightly.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve liked to meet him too,¡± he said. Then, after a beat, he exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°Officially, I mean. But this whole drinking and weed thing? Honestly?¡± He let out a short laugh, flashing a grin.

    Marcus couldn¡¯t help but laugh too.

    And Iman¡ªIman blushed.

    She crossed her arms tighter, gaze flicking away.

    ¡°So,¡± she said, her voice quieter now. ¡°You¡¯re really going back home?¡±

    Henryk nodded as they walked beside him, their steps slow, measured. The stone road stretched ahead, rough and uneven beneath their boots. He cast one last glance over his shoulder¡ªone final look at everything he was leaving behind¡ªbefore snapping his gaze forward again.

    It was fine. It had to be fine.

    He¡¯d be back to his old life soon. That was okay, right?

    His mind burned with the weight of it all. What could¡¯ve been. But it was okay. Right?

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll see each other again,¡± Iman said, her voice light, trying for something close to casual. ¡°Mercurian contracts never run dry.¡±

    Henryk blinked, jolted from his thoughts. ¡°That¡­ would be nice,¡± he admitted, the words slipping out quieter than he intended.

    As they walked, a flicker of movement caught Henryk¡¯s eye from the treeline.

    They all froze.

    A figure moved at the edges of the forest, shadowed and indistinct, before stepping forward and lifting a hand in greeting.

    As it approached, Henryk exhaled.

    ¡°Gerald,¡± he said.

    Gerald had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched¡ªnot slouched, but bent just enough to make him seem both at ease and on edge. His head tilted toward the sky, but when he looked down, black hair greasy and hanging in his face, he was smiling.

    ¡°Hey, Henryk,¡± Gerald said. His gaze flicked to Marcus and Iman, assessing. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had friends in other houses.¡± A pause. His smile sharpened. ¡°Popular guy. Hard to believe that someone who was clawing and begging to stay in is just gonna walk away.¡±

    Henryk met his gaze, steady.

    ¡°I killed a man, Gerald,¡± he said.

    Gerald didn¡¯t blink.

    Henryk inhaled deeply, then let it out slow. ¡°Between the cutthroat bullshit at the academy, the people hounding me on and off campus¡ªhell, I was attacked by my own house¡ª¡± He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s best to quit while I¡¯m ahead. I did my best. And I have family back home.¡± He met Gerald¡¯s eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve got your little brother, Gerald. You understand.¡±

    Gerald was silent for a long moment.

    Then, he chuckled.

    ¡°What?¡± He spread his hands, glancing at the trio. ¡°Did you think I was gonna make you stay? Try to talk you out of it?¡± He scoffed. ¡°No, Henryk. We shed blood together¡ªthat makes you a brother, same as my own flesh and blood.¡±

    There was weight in that. A truth Henryk couldn¡¯t deny.

    Gerald of House Pluto¡ªthe ruined house, the ruined planet, all thanks to the Martians¡ªlifted his hand toward him.

    ¡°You¡¯re alright,¡± Gerald said. ¡°You and your Martians came through when it counted. If this is the end, then I¡¯m damn sorry we won¡¯t get to fight together again.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes lingered on Gerald¡¯s outstretched hand.

    His mind churned.

    Iman. Marcus. The way they stood beside him, like they expected him to walk away. The way this whole damn game of houses had already taken too much from all of them.

    How did he know the next mission wouldn¡¯t be the last?

    But then there was the promise of glory.

    Gerald seemed to read something in his face, because his smile shifted, turning almost thoughtful.

    ¡°Oh, right. About that,¡± he said.

    Henryk arched a brow.

    ¡°I never got a chance to properly repay you,¡± Gerald continued, voice even. ¡°For saving my life. My brother¡¯s, too.¡±

    Henryk exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°That?¡± he said. ¡°You guys did the same.¡±

    Gerald nodded along. And yet, he slipped a hand into his pocket.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°But you and the Sons of Mars did it twice over.¡±

    He pulled something free, unclicking it from his belt.

    A plasma pistol.

    Gerald flipped it in his palm, then handed it over.

    Henryk took it, feeling the unexpected weight settle in his grip. It was bulkier than he thought, solid and heavy. The glass chamber at its center pulsed with an orange glow, muted and sluggish¡ªlike a dying lava lamp, the energy within shifting in slow, chaotic bursts.

    Gerald smirked. ¡°If you ever run into trouble back home,¡± he said, ¡°this¡¯ll scare anything off.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit¡­ a Stubmaker,¡± Iman murmured, peering over Henryk¡¯s shoulder. Her green eyes flicked from the weapon to Gerald, scrutinizing him now with something more than casual curiosity. ¡°Didn¡¯t think House Pluto had access to this kind of firepower.¡±

    Gerald sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

    ¡°We would¡¯ve come back for House Mercury and House Mars as a third,¡± he admitted, voice measured. ¡°But you gotta understand¡ªwe¡¯ve got weapon deals. An alliance with Earth House.¡± He let that sink in, then added, ¡°Recognized by the Earth Government, too.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s brow furrowed. His expression darkened.

    ¡°Even Earth¡¯s getting involved now?¡±

    Gerald chuckled, wrapping his arms around himself like he was bracing against something unseen. ¡°Waves have been forming for a while now. Academy¡¯s been quiet too long. Things are shifting.¡± His gaze lingered on Henryk then, watching the way he still stared at the weapon in his hands¡ªfingers tracing its edges, mind somewhere far away.

    ¡°Take good care of it,¡± Gerald said. His voice turned lighter, but there was weight beneath it. A warning wrapped in camaraderie.

    He turned, lifting a hand in a lazy wave as he started to walk away.

    ¡°Stubmakers aren¡¯t a joke,¡± he called over his shoulder. ¡°Overheat that thing, and you¡¯ll be lucky if it only takes off your arm. But your enemies?¡± He let out a dry laugh. ¡°They¡¯ll be nothing but ash.¡±

    Then his voice dropped, just enough to make the words linger.

    ¡°Strike heavy and true, Druid of House Mars. Even demons die from a bullet to the heart.¡±

    And with that, Gerald left Henryk Brown and the others standing in silence.

    <u>Biancia¡¯s</u>

    Henryk had stashed the pistol beneath a mound of clothes in his duffel bag. A nice farewell gift.

    Stubmakers. The universe ridiculed them¡ªcalled them crude, unwieldy, a relic of a bygone era. But Henryk figured the Martians knew what they were doing.

    Of course they did.

    He¡¯d seen the Warcasket-patterned plasma weapons hanging from their suspension cranes in Sir William¡¯s grand garage, now tended to by his daughters. The Martians were on the precipice of something¡ªcracking a new code for Warcasket warfare. Henryk¡¯s mind churned, drifting to something closer, more familiar.

    Out in the backwater, nobody¡ªexcept maybe a high-grade merc or some warlord with a throne of skulls¡ªever got their hands on Warcasket scraps like the ones he¡¯d seen. Hell, he¡¯d traded in his old rustbucket ages ago. What was the model again?

    Martian MP-02. Simple, blunt, cold. The other systems dressed theirs up with names, but Ed told him once¡ªMartians didn¡¯t do mass production. They never had, not since the Xeno Wars. They didn¡¯t build armies of Warcaskets. They built weapons. Singular, precise, devastating. That was the difference. That was the power.

    Henryk exhaled, breath pale in the cold. His hair¡ªlong, messy, somewhere between black and auburn¡ªhung unruly over his eyes. Fall had settled in thick now. September was dead and buried. October had one foot in the grave. Halloween was coming.

    He wondered how the Academy would celebrate. He figured it¡¯d be hard as hell, especially after what happened with Hannah. The accusations. The weight of it.

    But his muscles were tighter now. He¡¯d beaten Jace. He¡¯d beaten Logan. Every day, he was growing stronger.

    His magic, though¡­

    His feet carried him forward, but his mind lingered. As he passed the street corner, his jaw tightened. The same place Simon had jumped him. Over what? Because he was a mutant? And then, not a second later, the bastard tried to play it cool, like he wasn¡¯t the one who took a pipe to the skull.

    Henryk turned. Slipped into the alleyway.

    Down one turn, then another. He pulled out his keys and slipped into the back door of Bianca¡¯s.

    The scent of warm dough hit him like a wave. Rich. Heavy. Familiar.

    He inhaled, letting it settle in his lungs.

    His eyes skimmed the steel countertops, catching on the fresh bread laid out for the morning rush. His stomach tightened. He thought about grabbing a piece¡ªjust a bite¡ªbut something held him back.

    Instead, his gaze landed on a note.

    The place was too clean. Too quiet.

    His fingers hesitated over the paper as something prickled at the back of his neck.

    Had Bianca and her son come in early? Done everything ahead of schedule?

    He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here today. He should¡¯ve been out¡ªmaking beats, making money, training, something¡ªbut instead, he was here.

    Henryk¡¯s hand came hard against his head.

    ¡°What is this? What is this damn introspection?¡± He slammed his palm against his temple again, teeth clenched. ¡°People are fucking dying. How do I know I won¡¯t be next? I should quit while I¡¯m ahead.¡±

    His voice faded into the empty room, but his mind didn¡¯t stop. His thoughts churned, dragging him down into places he didn¡¯t want to go. The forces lurking in the dark¡ªthings he tried not to think about. The ones like Peyton. The Xeno.

    He¡¯d seen too much with the Sons of Mars. Maybe too much. Maybe he was normal. Maybe he was gifted. But how many young men in history had thought the same before they met their end?

    He walked through the narrow door connecting the kitchen to the main restaurant. The lights were off, the space still and hollow. His gaze drifted to Bianca¡¯s office. The door was shut. No sliver of light beneath it.

    Bianca was the type to wring every ounce of life out of a workday. She¡¯d rather die than let the power bill climb a cent too high.

    Yet¡­

    ¡°You,¡± Henryk said, his voice low.

    A shadow shifted¡ªslumped, stumbling. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath it.

    Henryk let his duffel bag drop with a heavy thud. The registration letter slipped from his fingers.

    ¡°You¡­ in the dark.¡± His eyes narrowed.

    Yet¡­

    ¡°H-Henryk.¡±

    The voice was drawn, the syllables soaked in something slow, something dangerous.

    His eyes widened, a smirk curling at his lips. ¡°Piper?¡± he said, a chuckle in his breath.

    And then she stepped forward, lumbering out of the shadows, a large bottle dangling from her grip.

    Her skin¡ªbrilliant red¡ªcaught the dim light, freckles scattered across her face like constellations. One eye grey, the other green, twin flashes of mischief and something deeper.

    He had done that to her.

    And just like that, the smirk died on his lips. His expression turned to stone. He didn¡¯t deserve to see her smile. Not today. Not when he was leaving.

    ¡°H-hey, big guy,¡± Piper said, shifting her weight, playing on the balls of her feet like she was balancing on the edge of something.

    Henryk lifted his gaze.

    ¡°You ever get around to making that pizza?¡± she asked.

    And despite himself¡ªdespite everything¡ªHenryk smiled.

    He led her into the kitchen.

    Henryk dusted his hands with flour, pressing his fingers into the dough, stretching it outward with practiced ease. Piper watched from her seat, chin resting in her palm, her mismatched eyes flickering between his hands and his face. The scent of yeast and warm air filled the kitchen as he reached for the tomato sauce, spooning it onto the stretched canvas of dough. With a quick, precise motion, he sliced through a block of mozzarella, the blade gliding clean.

    ¡°You¡¯re amazing,¡± Piper murmured, her voice thick with something that wasn¡¯t just drunkenness.

    Henryk snorted, flashing a half-smile as he slid the pizza onto the stone.

    Piper went on, undeterred. ¡°Seriously, you handled those two like it was nothing. Venus and Neptunian Warcaskets are no joke.¡± Her voice spiked, loud and unfiltered, half a cheer, half a confession. She swayed forward, too close now, her breath warm against his arm.

    Henryk ignored the way she leaned in, flicking the oven on and grabbing the wooden pizza peel. ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal,¡± he said, smoothing his hands over the warm surface of the dough. ¡°I¡¯ve been handling mechs since I was a kid. Worked in the mines back home. You get used to it. It¡¯s like clearing snow off a driveway.¡±

    Piper laughed, tipping her head back. ¡°Really? ¡¯Cause my dad just paid some guy seventy-five bucks to do it for him.¡± She took another long drink, her throat bobbing with the motion.

    Henryk glanced over. ¡°Your dad, what¡¯s he like?¡±

    Piper exhaled, her lips quirking into something that wasn¡¯t quite a smile. ¡°Like every dad¡ªa fucking asshole.¡±

    Henryk stilled, his fingers tightening over the wooden handle of the pizza peel. Piper noticed too late.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡± She tried for a smile, but Henryk wasn¡¯t looking at her anymore. ¡°I bet your dad¡¯s awesome. Probably some big sports guy, right? You¡¯ve got the look.¡±

    Henryk hesitated. ¡°My dad¡­ I never knew him.¡±

    Silence. Piper¡¯s face fell, and her drunken haze cleared for a moment.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡± She sucked in a breath, leaning back against the counter. ¡°Here I am bitching about my dad to someone who doesn¡¯t even have one.¡±

    Henryk waved her off, already moving toward the oven. He slid the peel under the pizza, pulling it out in one smooth motion. The crust was golden, the cheese bubbling, the smell intoxicating.

    Piper perked up, watching him like he had just performed magic. ¡°You¡¯re a man of many skills,¡± she said, pushing off the counter. ¡°Is there anything you can¡¯t do?¡±

    Henryk chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Shit, Pipes, you¡¯re flattering me, but you¡¯re drunk. We should just eat.¡±

    Piper didn¡¯t sit. Her eyes burned into him, her lips slightly parted. A storm of emotions flickered across her face¡ªfrustration, desire, hesitation.

    ¡°I just¡­¡± Her voice dropped, turning softer, slower. ¡°I just wanted a little courage.¡± She wet her lips. ¡°Listen, if tonight is your last night here, then maybe¡­ maybe we make it one to remember.¡±

    Henryk took a bite of the pizza. He barely tasted it. Didn¡¯t care if the crust was perfect or if the sauce was seasoned just right. Piper was filling the space between them, her fingers tracing the edge of the counter, her body language unmistakable.

    He swallowed, his jaw tightening.

    She was a good friend. A damn good friend.

    But she was also drunk.

    And Henryk had never been the kind of guy to take advantage of someone who trusted him.

    He set the pizza down and exhaled, his hands gripping the counter like a lifeline.

    ¡°Eat, Pipes,¡± he said, his voice quiet, firm. ¡°Let¡¯s just eat.¡±

    Piper didn¡¯t register Henryk¡¯s dismissal, at least not fully. She grabbed another slice, biting into it with a pleased hum. ¡°Damn. You really know what you¡¯re doing with your hands,¡± she said, her voice slipping into something slower, heavier. Her eyes flickered up at him, lazy, teasing. ¡°Maybe all that skill of yours doesn¡¯t just apply to the battlefield.¡±

    Henryk exhaled through his nose, leveling her with a look. ¡°Pipes,¡± he muttered, already tired.

    She grinned, leaning in, pushing her luck.

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he stated, plain and firm. His voice carried none of the earlier hesitation, no softness. ¡°I¡¯m not going to take advantage of you in this state.¡± He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. ¡°I¡¯m a virgin, and¡ª¡± His jaw tightened, and he turned his gaze away.

    Piper stilled. The flush on her cheeks darkened. ¡°¡­Me too,¡± she admitted, barely above a whisper. Then, louder, firmer: ¡°But if tonight is your last night, then¡­ Henryk, we¡¯ve fought together so many times now. I should have told you this earlier, but stop blaming yourself for what happened to my eye. It was an accident.¡±

    Henryk sneered, shaking his head. He moved away from her, putting distance between them. ¡°You think that absolves me?¡± His hands curled into fists. ¡°Piper, I hurt you. Accident or not, bionic or not¡ªI don¡¯t know how I can forgive myself.¡±

    ¡°Then learn control,¡± she snapped.

    The drunken haze was gone. The teasing, the heat in her voice¡ªgone. Now, she was only the Ace of House Mercury staring him down, her expression sharpened into something unshakable.

    ¡°You¡¯re a skilled pilot, a skilled warrior, a skilled tactician,¡± she continued. ¡°You think you got this far on luck? You think that¡¯s all you are?¡±

    ¡°I got lucky,¡± Henryk bit out. ¡°That¡¯s what I am.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°No man is perfect, but you are gifted. You have the chance to help the Empire, to strengthen your House. And I know you are stronger than this.¡±

    Henryk shook his head, but Piper pressed on.

    ¡°You learn fast. You adapt fast. Is it the magic that¡¯s scaring you? Or what happened on Oceana? Or how you¡ª¡±

    Henryk¡¯s face twisted. His glare cut into her. ¡°Why can¡¯t we just enjoy the pizza on my last day?¡±

    Piper sighed, rubbing her temple. She sat back down, but the air between them was heavier now.

    ¡°That duel¡­¡± she started, her voice lower. ¡°Everything about it was insane. Even Atticus didn¡¯t expect Earth House to be harboring a Warcasket like that. Have you ever seen anything like it?¡±

    Henryk shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s an old Martian battle policy. Mobile Fortresses. Stagnant, single-pilot Warcaskets¡ªimmobile unless repositioned in space by thrusters. People stopped using them a hundred years ago.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes flickered with something dark. ¡°Warfare is changing. The GrimGar¡­ they¡¯re evolving.¡±

    Henryk exhaled through his nose. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°But we¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    Piper glanced at him. Something about his tone was strange. Detached.

    Then, for a moment, something passed between them¡ªsomething other.

    A flicker of his mind¡¯s eye, a glimpse of his thoughts unspooling into concepts, designs, obsessions. A mobile suit, stripped to the bare minimum, weightless, faster, running hot with extra thrusters along its legs. Not fast enough. His voice cut through her head. Another flash¡ªhis own machine, stripped, bare, his mind whirling in equations, adjustments. Not strong. Not fast enough.

    The words came again, angrier, thick with self-loathing. The thoughts churned¡ªblueprints, mechanisms, the desperate clawing of a mind that would not stop.

    Piper hesitated.

    Because in that brief instant, she saw something else.

    Henryk wasn¡¯t just a pilot.

    One day, he¡¯d fly.

    They ate in silence. Slice after slice.

    Piper leaned against the sink, her fingers gripping the edges like she needed to hold herself together. Her breath hitched, uneven. Her eyes shimmered, a raw glassiness creeping in as her lips parted, working through words that didn¡¯t want to come.

    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know how I do this,¡± she murmured, turning her gaze toward him.

    Henryk¡¯s fists hung at his sides. He could hear it in her voice¡ªthat edge, that crack. He had heard it before in dying soldiers and pilots on open comms, in the way someone spoke when they weren¡¯t sure they¡¯d ever wake up again.

    ¡°I get it,¡± he said, voice steady. ¡°I really do. But a lot of us are here for other reasons. Some of us¡­ we can¡¯t go back.¡±

    Piper exhaled a hollow, broken sound. She pressed the heel of her palm against her eye, her breath coming out in shudders. ¡°I¡¯ve killed so many people I¡¯ve lost count,¡± she whispered. ¡°I am a monster, Henryk. A monster.¡±

    ¡°Piper¡­¡± Henryk reached for her instinctively, but she jerked away before he could touch her.

    ¡°You have a home to go back to.¡± Her voice darkened, thickened. She swayed, and then¡ªcrash.

    The vodka bottle slipped from the counter and shattered against the floor, rupturing like a gunshot. The sound echoed too loudly in their heads. They both flinched. Their minds whirled with memories of battle, of comms screaming, of metal torn apart, of the dead.

    Piper stared at the wreckage of glass and liquor. ¡°I am a fucked-up person, Henryk Brown,¡± she said, quieter now. ¡°Lucas is dead.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Henryk barely breathed the words.

    She turned, watching him. ¡°Marcus¡­ I don¡¯t know how he¡¯s going to handle you leaving. I know he¡¯s got family that needs him, but they won¡¯t sacrifice their son.¡±

    Henryk clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists.

    ¡°We¡¯ve already lost an entire battalion,¡± Piper continued. ¡°We¡¯re barely scraping together survivors, filling ranks with recruits who didn¡¯t die or weren¡¯t murdered by Jacen¡¯s pirates. And the worst part? Eric, Jeremiah, and the other elites¡ªgone. Now we¡¯re stuck with bastards like Clive. And I know Zephyr had his reasons for sending the 34th away, but to aid him?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s head jerked up. ¡°Clive?¡± His hands came to his temples. ¡°Piper, I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t do this anymore. I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lucas wanted you with us.¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°Damn Zephyr. If it had been you out there with them, I know the tide would¡¯ve turned. But everything keeps spiraling, Henryk. And I can¡¯t blame you for leaving, but¡ª¡± She swallowed hard, staring at the broken glass. ¡°The rest of us? This might be it. Most of us burn out like pilot lights. The perfect sacrifices. Young, noble heroes for an empire and an Eunuch Emperor.¡±

    Piper staggered, her foot slipping. Henryk was on her in an instant, catching her around the waist before she hit the floor.

    ¡°Piper,¡± he said, his voice firmer now.

    She lifted her head, and in the golden light of the overhead lamps, her green eyes glistened¡ªwild, desperate. Her hands moved under his shirt, fingertips brushing his stomach, and before he could stop her, she had pulled down the straps of her top and bra in one motion.

    Henryk¡¯s breath stopped.

    He froze, utterly, completely, as if struck.

    Her skin was pale, speckled with freckles, her breasts full and bare in the dim kitchen light. It stunned him, the sight of them, the way they caught the glow of the room, the way her chest rose and fell, the flush across her collarbone. His entire body tensed, heat roaring up his spine like a system failure¡ªhis hands twitched, jaw clenched, his heart hammering into his ribs.

    And then he ripped his eyes away.

    His grip on her waist tightened¡ªnot out of desire, but control, forcing himself to not look, not think.

    ¡°Me and you,¡± Piper whispered, her voice raw. ¡°If tonight is my last night with you, then we¡¯re going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s voice cut through the room like a gunshot.

    Piper flinched.

    With a sharp exhale, Henryk hauled her up and set her down on the cold metal of the sink countertop. Her bare skin pressed against it, and the shock of the chill made her shudder.

    ¡°This is done,¡± Henryk stated, his tone final. His patience had snapped, his restraint thinned to its breaking point. ¡°I work here. Or at least, I did. How the hell did you even get here?¡±

    Piper blinked at him, the drunken haze in her eyes flickering. ¡°W-what?¡±

    Henryk scrubbed a hand down his face. ¡°Yeah, Piper, this is out of hand and inappropriate. I have to mop up the goddamn floor and clean up all this glass.¡± He turned back to her, voice lowering but no less firm. ¡°And you are drunk. Really fucking drunk. I am not doing this¡ªnot in good faith, not like this.¡± His eyes burned into hers. ¡°Now. Give me your phone. Who do you want me to call?¡±

    Piper¡¯s gaze dropped to the floor. Her lips parted, hesitated. Then¡ª

    ¡°¡­Margaret.¡±

    Slowly, she reached up, pulling her top and bra back over herself. The moment was gone. Whatever had been burning in her, whatever desperate ache had driven her this far¡ªit dulled, curling inward. Her expression hardened as she turned away.

    Henryk sighed, stepping back, raking his fingers through his hair as he grabbed his own phone.

    He didn¡¯t know what this was between them. He didn¡¯t know what Piper wanted¡ªreally wanted. But the way she had looked at him, the way her voice had cracked, the way she had begged him in everything but words¡­

    Henryk had always known she was a fighter. A soldier. A pilot.

    But it was only now, only now, that he realized¡ª

    Piper was in love with him.

    And he hadn¡¯t seen it until it was too late.

 Chapter 13 - Please Stay With Me II

    Chapter 13 - Please Stay With Me II

    <hr>

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Damned if he did, damned if he didn¡¯t.

    Yeah, he wasn¡¯t going to be speaking to Piper again. That much was guaranteed. Hell, not just for a minute¡ªforever. He¡¯d made sure of that. He called a Neo-Uber for her, used her phone to call Margaret, and told the driver to take her away. No goodbyes, no second chances. Just a clean break.

    The rest of the afternoon had been a slow-motion disaster, him cleaning up the wreckage of his last hours with Piper. Damn it. His last day, and this was how he chose to spend it?

    Selfish. Idiot. Monster. Killer.

    No wonder Sirine wanted nothing to do with him.

    He stood now, hands locked around the iron bars that separated him from the grand steel mansion ahead. Before, Sirine had come to him, and for a moment, it had felt good¡ªrighteous, even. He had saved her.

    But now...

    ¡°A shame you got here so late,¡± came a voice from the darkness.

    Henryk stiffened. The man was dressed in a crisp black tuxedo, white gloves stark against the night. A thick, gray mustache curled above his lips, and a polished helmet sat atop his head, shadowing his eyes.

    Strange. Even Henryk¡¯s magic couldn¡¯t see through that darkness.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Henryk called, gripping the bars tighter. His duffel bag rested at his feet. ¡°Look, I just need you to pass a message to Sirine.¡±

    The man turned, dipping slightly into the booth. ¡°I shall not.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Please. I saved her. I should¡¯ve told her a long time ago, but I¡ª¡± He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. ¡°I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Whatever you have to say, young man, if you¡¯re not willing to fight for her¡ªif you¡¯re so ready to run away and leave all this behind¡ªwhy should I even bother?¡±

    The words landed like a fist to the gut. Henryk¡¯s back slouched, his gaze drifting from the perfect, gleaming asphalt to the shadowed figure behind the dim window.

    ¡°What did you say?¡± he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°You heard me, boy.¡± The old man¡¯s voice was unwavering, like a judge handing down a verdict. ¡°I¡¯ve known that girl since she was born. And here, in this world, we fight for what we want. There is purity in strength. Even the Headmaster favored you¡­ despite your mutation. Because you saved his daughter. Twice.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°He knows?¡±

    The man said nothing.

    Henryk let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. ¡°Unbelievable. One minute, it¡¯s all about being civil, democratic. The next, it¡¯s feudal law. A damn trial by combat.¡± His voice cracked, frustration boiling over. ¡°I¡ª¡± He faltered. Say it. Say what you came to say. ¡°I just¡­ I just wanted to tell Sirine that I was sorry.¡±

    The old man exhaled, a slow, measured thing. ¡°And what would that sorry accomplish?¡±

    Henryk clenched his fists.

    ¡°You want something from that girl,¡± the old man continued. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s guilt. Maybe you think she holds your absolution. But you saved her. And now, you choose to leave. If you truly desire a conversation¡­ then fight for her hand.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± Henryk¡¯s shout tore through the night, raw and desperate. He thrashed against the bars, the metal rattling under his grip. ¡°Doesn¡¯t everyone get it? I¡¯m just a fool!¡±

    The old man said nothing at first. Silence stretched between them, heavy as a burial shroud. Then, finally, his voice came¡ªlow, deliberate.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Henryk stilled.

    ¡°You¡¯re young. And idiotic. But I¡¯ve been around a long time.¡± The old man exhaled, the sound slow and measured, like wind slipping through dead leaves. ¡°You don¡¯t just want to say goodbye. I see it in you. You¡¯ve always got to be the savior, the protector. But tell me¡­ do they need your protecting?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s breath caught. His fingers loosened against the bars. ¡°W-what do you mean by that?¡±

    The old man didn¡¯t answer right away. Another sigh, this one heavier.

    ¡°Jace of House Venus. Logan of House Neptune. Two champions. Two men who would have stood beside you, against you, for Sirine¡¯s hand. You know their names.¡± A pause. ¡°And so does the Headmaster. Do you really believe, out of all the suitors, he chose you because you were the one who could protect her?¡±

    Henryk swallowed, his voice quieter now. ¡°The one who would protect her¡­¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The old man¡¯s voice carried weight, like a hammer striking an anvil. ¡°The one who would truly love her.¡±

    The words hit harder than they should have. Henryk found himself staring at the dimmed-out window of the booth, as if searching for something beyond the glass.

    ¡°There are¡­ strange rumors about those two men.¡± The old man¡¯s voice dipped lower. ¡°And these times, with the Eunuch Emperor¡­¡±

    Henryk¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    A slow shake of the head. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know. Not from your backwater world.¡±

    ¡°The Sons of Mars use that term all the time,¡± Henryk muttered. ¡°But I¡¯ve never heard it from anyone outside their circles.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s to be expected. A lot of worlds along the backways have zealots loyal to the Emperor, especially when things get¡­ constrained.¡±

    Henryk stiffened. ¡°Constrained.¡±

    ¡°Are you familiar with the ARC Cores?¡±

    Henryk hesitated. He¡¯d read about them. History books, mostly. His gaze lifted toward the night sky, scattered with cold stars. Damn. If he stood here talking much longer, he might miss his only way back home. But still, something in the old man¡¯s voice kept him rooted. Maybe, just maybe, he could stall long enough. Maybe Sirine would come.

    But then, beneath all of it, there was that whisper¡ªIman. Piper. Sirine.

    Why did he always have to be the protector? The savior?

    His mother. His little sisters. Even as a boy, he had carried that weight, had stepped into the role without question. Why?

    Was it nature? Or something else? Something deeper?

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m familiar,¡± Henryk murmured. His voice was low now, careful. ¡°The ARC Cores were one of the only reasons we had a fighting chance in the Xeno Wars, back when bipedal mechs were still in their infancy.¡±

    The old man gave a small, approving hum. ¡°Good. But do you know why they were special?¡±

    Henryk hesitated.

    A chuckle. ¡°They were magic,¡± the old man said. ¡°Damn near supernatural. Recovered two hundred years ago, just as humanity was staring extinction in the face. Some of them are lost now. The Martian core¡ªdestroyed. But the Emperor¡¯s ARC¡­¡±

    His voice dropped to a whisper.

    ¡°That one, Henryk¡­ that one lights the universe.¡±

    Henryk was silent. His breath hung in the cold air.

    ¡°Lights the universe?¡± he repeated, barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the old man murmured, voice steady. ¡°Lights the universe.¡±

    A pause. The night stretched wide and empty between them.

    ¡°The Emperor,¡± the old man continued, ¡°or the Eunuch Emperor, as the rebels like to call him. They believe another Empress exists. A child born of the younger brother¡¯s seed. And many would rather see an Empress rise, one who can wield the ARC as a man can, than to let the bloodline die.¡±

    Henryk swallowed. A chill traced his spine. ¡°And if the line dies?¡± His voice wavered despite himself.

    The old man let out a slow breath. ¡°That, young Henryk, is the problem we all face. Look up.¡±

    Henryk did. Slowly, hesitantly. The sky sprawled above him, infinite and cold, pinpricked with light.

    ¡°Some of those stars,¡± the old man murmured, ¡°planets, moving lights¡ªyou know them. Asteroids. Ships. But some of them?¡± A pause. ¡°Dead zones. Black voids in the sea of light.¡±

    Henryk narrowed his gaze.

    ¡°For decades, we¡¯ve used the Emperor¡¯s ARC to chart the empire¡¯s spread. Every ten years, dozens of worlds are mapped, claimed, ruled by the Core Worlds. But only those of the blood¡ªthose who first stepped into the cockpit at the dawn of war¡ªcan wield that power.¡± The old man¡¯s voice hardened. ¡°That is how the royal family took control.¡±

    ¡°The path of the universe,¡± Henryk muttered. He had learned this. Abridged, watered-down history, taught between more basic subjects back home. But here? Here, knowledge stretched deeper, the seams of power more exposed.

    Maybe he really was the dumb country hick after all.

    ¡°With that power,¡± he murmured, his gaze locking onto the dim glass of the security booth, ¡°a man could carve out an empire. Planets handed out like scraps from a table¡­ if every ten years¡ª¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t foolproof,¡± the old man interrupted. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s a sector¡¯s worth of planets. Sometimes, nothing but dead zones.¡± His voice darkened. ¡°Do you understand now? Everyone here has chosen a side. Even the Headmaster hesitates. The Academy produces heroes, and whoever this planet aligns with¡­ they¡¯ll have an army. A war machine. And the parents? They will not betray their children.¡±

    Henryk swallowed hard. ¡°I-I¡­¡± He faltered.

    ¡°That is why Sirine needs a strong husband,¡± the old man pressed. ¡°Feudal. A Knight of Mars.¡± He snorted. ¡°A princess and her knight. It would¡¯ve been perfect. But you¡¯re afraid, aren¡¯t you?¡± His voice turned dismissive. ¡°Go home, boy. I see it in you. If you can¡¯t face the music, what¡¯s the point?¡±

    Henryk stood there, motionless, the words hitting him like hammer blows to the ribs. He leaned his forehead against the bars, the cold metal biting into his skin. His breath came sharp, ragged, and when the wind picked up, he realized¡ªtoo late¡ªthere were tears slipping down his face.

    He took a step back. Then another.

    His gaze lifted, drawn to the steel-plated house, pipes running along the windows like veins. And there¡ªstanding behind the glass¡ªwas Sirine.

    Her white hair drifted in soft waves over her shoulders. Her hands rested in her lap. And her eyes¡ªthose cold, piercing eyes¡ªstared right through him. No anger. No sorrow. Just stillness.

    Like he was nothing. Like he was trash on the floor. Something to be swept away and forgotten.

    She wouldn¡¯t understand. She wouldn¡¯t understand what it was like to kill. To watch people die in front of you. To bear the weight of choices that tore you apart. She wouldn¡¯t understand that he had sisters waiting for him, a mother who needed him back home.

    The Sons of Mars didn¡¯t understand either. They called it feudalism. Strength. Honor. Bullshit.

    And yet¡­

    Stay.

    The word slithered through his mind, whispered in the voice of something dark, something greedy. Stay, and you could be king of worlds.

    The power. The wealth. The pride of his colony. Sirine. Iman. Piper.

    Everything. All of it.

    It stirred in him like hunger, a deep, gnawing thing. A beast curled in his ribs, whispering of gold and glory, of hands reaching for him, soft and wanting, of thrones carved from iron and blood.

    But then¡ª

    His mother¡¯s voice. His sisters¡¯ laughter.

    A phantom sound, carried by the wind, slipping between the cracks in his armor. It cut through the hunger, through the wanting, through the greed that slithered in his gut like a sickness.

    He could take it all. He could be a god.

    But he wasn¡¯t a god.

    He was Henryk. His father¡¯s son, he was a man¡­like his father, nothing more, and that was okay.

    Being human was a good thing.

    And he walked away.

    <u>Piper</u>

    ¡°This is the drunkest I¡¯ve ever seen you¡­¡± Margaret¡¯s voice cut through Piper¡¯s haze, sharp but laced with concern. ¡°I always thought you were the smartest person in the room.¡±

    A motherly chide, soft but firm. Piper barely registered it.

    She kept her head low. The sun hung heavy in the sky, teetering toward dusk, and the world around her blurred at the edges. Snickers, murmured jokes, side-eye glances¡ªher peers and comrades passed by, fresh from their shifts, their classes, their lives that weren¡¯t currently spiraling into the gutter.

    ¡°Yo, Pipes, you good?¡± A voice, vaguely familiar, drifted from somewhere to her right.

    Her head lifted¡ªbarely. It felt like someone had tied a brick to her neck. Hell, her whole body felt like it was sinking, weighted down by exhaustion, alcohol, and something uglier she didn¡¯t want to name.

    Through the thick, slurring fog of her thoughts, Marcus and Iman pushed through the crowd. Their faces were expectant, maybe a little amused, maybe a little concerned.

    Piper sneered. This was pathetic. She was pathetic. Somewhere along the way, she had lost a shoe¡ªor had she left it at Henryk¡¯s?

    The thought slammed into her like a punch to the ribs. Henryk.

    She wanted to slap herself across the face, shake herself out of this mess, but there were too many people watching. So, she settled for dragging a palm over her face instead, half-aware of how sweaty she felt.

    ¡°Shit, Pipes,¡± Iman said, coming up beside Marcus, a grin splitting her face¡ªtoo big, too knowing. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s ten o¡¯clock on a Friday somewhere in the universe.¡±

    Piper sneered. ¡°Nice to know you¡¯re back, Iman. How was your little excursion?¡±

    Iman shrugged, that same devil-may-care grin plastered on her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, the picture of a woman who knew something no one else did. ¡°So, what¡¯s all this about?¡±

    Another voice cut in.

    Zephyr stepped into the main entrance of House Mercury, his presence drawing a shift in the air.

    Marcus tensed. Margaret, standing beside him, caught the look in his eyes and smiled instinctively. He¡¯s gonna get us out of this.

    Or at least, he would have¡ª

    If Piper hadn¡¯t opened her goddamn mouth.

    ¡°Oh, fantastic. Just the person I wanted to see,¡± she said, voice dripping with venom.

    She moved. Too fast for a drunk woman. One second she was slumped, the next she was rising, rolling her shoulders, body coiled like a spring.

    Zephyr raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. ¡°Really?¡±

    He took a step closer, the sharp scent of alcohol hitting him like a slap. He exhaled, slow and measured, as his eyes swept over her.

    ¡°Christ, Piper, you¡¯re a damn lieutenant,¡± he muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you drink yourself stupid, but you should¡¯ve at least¡ª¡±

    Crack.

    Piper¡¯s fist met his face.

    For a heartbeat, everything hung suspended.

    Marcus and Margaret¡¯s mouths fell open, frozen in mid-shout. The gathered crowd recoiled. Sarah and Anderson, standing off to the side, were caught between horror and awe.

    And Iman¡ª

    Iman was grinning.

    ¡°Fuck you, Zephyr,¡± she murmured under her breath, as if savoring the moment.

    Zephyr staggered back, a curse half-formed on his lips, shock flashing in his eyes.

    He was young¡ªtwenty-one, maybe twenty-five at most¡ªbut softer than he used to be. Too many hours behind a desk, too many meals eaten sitting down instead of burned off in the cockpit.

    Piper, though¡ªPiper was a pilot.

    A soldier.

    A woman who had to be at her peak, always, because the enemies she fought weren¡¯t just other humans. They were things, alien and relentless. Things that didn¡¯t care that she was nineteen. Things that would tear her apart if she faltered for even a second.

    Zephyr hit the ground first, the air driven from his lungs in a stunned gasp. His left hand shot up, cupping his cheek, his fingers trembling against the burning sting. ¡°P-Piper, what the¡ª¡±

    It wasn¡¯t just the pain. It wasn¡¯t just the shock. It wasn¡¯t even Piper.

    It was the laughter.

    Not at her, the stumbling drunk who¡¯d just sucker-punched him in front of half the House.

    At him.

    The first-years. The seniors. The veterans. Every single one of them watching, some whispering, some smirking, some outright chuckling at him, Zephyr, the officer who just got laid out in front of his own goddamn people.

    Piper took a step forward, her eyes burning¡ªtwo mismatched flames of fury and drunken rage. ¡°This is all your fault.¡± Her voice was a low murmur, slurred but venomous, a snake coiling to strike again.

    Zephyr blinked, once, twice. His fingers twitched against his bruising cheek.

    Then his jaw clenched.

    ¡°Marcus, get them out of here. Now.¡± His voice had changed, stripped of its usual exasperation, sharpened into something final.

    Marcus stiffened. His gaze darted from Zephyr to Piper, then back again. He swallowed and nodded.

    Margaret, too, had read the shift in the air. She bent down to help Marcus, but Piper¡¯s lips curled, her words laced with resentment. ¡°Go on, help Marcus, then¡ª¡±

    But before Margaret could move,

    ¡°Iman,¡± Zephyr said, voice low, edged with something close to a warning. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you.¡±

    Iman smiled. Wider than before. Her arms folded lazily across her chest. ¡°Nah,¡± she murmured, tilting her head, eyes glinting. ¡°I got a boot to pick with you, Zephyr.¡±

    A pause.

    She gestured ahead, casual as a queen ordering a peasant to kneel.

    ¡°Lead the way. We don¡¯t have all day.¡±

    A few minutes. A silent, tension-soaked walk. An awkward climb up the stairwell.

    Zephyr, Piper, and Iman stepped into the office.

    ¡°Door open or closed?¡± Iman asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

    ¡°Shut that shit. Now.¡± Zephyr wasn¡¯t even looking at them.

    Iman kicked it shut.

    ¡°Sit down,¡± he ordered.

    Iman turned to Piper, flashing a look that all but screamed, He¡¯s fucking pissed.

    Piper barely acknowledged it. ¡°I think we¡¯d prefer standing.¡±

    ¡°Sit the fuck down.¡±

    The words cracked like a gunshot.

    Piper, for all her drunken bravado, obeyed on instinct, her body moving before her mind caught up. She slumped into the chair, arms crossed, eyes deadlocked on Zephyr. Iman, however, remained standing, leaning lightly against the table, looking far too entertained.

    Zephyr paced, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

    ¡°I should have you kicked out for hitting me,¡± he said, voice low, sharp.

    Piper didn¡¯t respond.

    He slammed a fist against his own temple, sudden and violent. The sound was sickening. Both women flinched.

    ¡°The fuck is wrong with you?!¡± he roared, pacing faster now. ¡°You¡¯re drunk as shit, you reek of alcohol, and you think this is a good look? I just promoted you. Ensign to Acting First Lieutenant. I gave you access to command¡ªand you didn¡¯t even last a single goddamn day before you blew it.¡±

    Piper exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.

    ¡°Listen, Zephyr,¡± she muttered, voice suddenly quieter, heavier. ¡°I was angry. I shouldn¡¯t have hit you, but¡­¡±

    Her fists clenched in her lap.

    ¡°But what?¡± he spat.

    She lifted her head, glared at him.

    ¡°But if you let Henryk into this House after he won the duel, after the terms were set¡­¡± Her voice cracked, and she swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. ¡°A deal was a deal, and now House Mars has taken him. And now he¡¯s leaving because of how¡ª¡±

    Her words faltered, but the rage didn¡¯t. It burned hot in her throat, laced every syllable with something bitter, something that hurt.

    Zephyr let out a long, ragged breath, his hands dragging down his face before he slumped into his chair.

    ¡°Piper,¡± he muttered through his fingers, ¡°are you fucking kidding me?¡±

    He dropped his hands, eyes sharp, disbelieving.

    ¡°Are you really blaming me for Henryk?¡±

    Silence.

    Piper said nothing.

    Neither did Iman.

    But Zephyr saw something in her. Something unreadable. Calculating. Watching.

    He exhaled again, slow and measured, barely biting down the frustration bubbling inside him.

    His jaw tensed.

    She¡¯d punched him hard enough to rattle his damn teeth.

    And she was barely even looking at him.

    Zephyr exhaled slowly, his fingers massaging his temple before he dropped his hands, revealing that calculating, detached expression Piper knew too well. His bruise was fresh, an angry red blooming across his cheek, but he was already past it. Already dissecting the situation like a puzzle to be solved.

    ¡°Henryk Brown was never going to join House Mercury after that duel,¡± he said. His voice had smoothed out, the anger buried under layers of cold logic. ¡°Duel or not, he maimed you. And let¡¯s not forget the accusations¡ªattempted rape of House Pluto¡¯s president¡¯s sister?¡± He let the words linger like a bad taste.

    Piper sneered. ¡°Those rumors are ancient history.¡±

    Zephyr scoffed. ¡°Really? Because last I checked, Neptune and Venus still have an axe to grind over Henryk. He¡¯s damn lucky their daddies didn¡¯t get involved.¡± He leaned back, smirking as he turned toward Iman. ¡°Iman, you¡¯re banned from the entire Jupiter System, right?¡±

    Iman rolled her eyes. ¡°They¡¯ve got, what, a dozen planets? I¡¯m not missing much.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Zephyr kept going. ¡°But you can¡¯t set foot on their worlds. No passport, no citizenship, no¡ª¡±

    Iman¡¯s expression soured. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Not like I¡¯m losing sleep over those lunatics. They¡¯d probably strap me to a table, drain my blood, toss it in a vat, and cook up a magical girl or some shit. No thank you.¡±

    Zephyr nodded as if proving a point before he turned back to Piper. ¡°Your boyfriend made the right call in leaving.¡±

    Piper¡¯s fist slammed down on his desk, the impact rattling everything on it. She leaned in, her breath hot with fury. ¡°Say that again.¡±

    Zephyr didn¡¯t flinch. He only narrowed his eyes. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know if this is just the whiskey talking, but Piper, I can tell that you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡±

    She straightened abruptly, her whole body radiating barely restrained violence.

    Silence hung thick in the air.

    Zephyr stared. Iman, arms crossed, tilted her head slightly. ¡°Such anger,¡± she murmured. But then, almost as if to herself, she added, ¡°But something more.¡±

    Zephyr didn¡¯t blink. His voice remained calm, almost clinical. ¡°Henryk Brown left because the whole world was against him. There was nothing I could¡¯ve done to fix that. If he¡¯d come earlier? Maybe. I would¡¯ve let him in. But Henryk shined too bright, and too many people were watching, waiting for him to fuck up. Logan of Neptune, Jace of House Venus, Gerald of House Pluto¡­ They all had eyes on him. And when he finally had the world in his hands, he still managed to let it slip through his fingers.¡±

    Piper¡¯s face burned red, but Iman¡ªIman looked pensive.

    ¡°So this is what happened to Henryk?¡± she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

    Zephyr hesitated. ¡°You were on a mission when¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes. With Clive,¡± Iman said, the name carrying weight.

    ¡°Clive?¡± Piper¡¯s head snapped toward Zephyr, her eyes blazing. ¡°You sent Iman and the 34th to assist fucking Clive?¡±

    Zephyr barely had time to react before Piper lunged, her hands fisting in his collar, ready to send both him and the desk flying. It took Iman¡¯s full strength to hold her back, her feet skidding as she grappled with Piper¡¯s rage.

    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?!¡± Zephyr bellowed.

    Zephyr''s breath was sharp and forced as Piper spun around to face Iman, her body coiled tight, muscles trembling with the weight of unspent rage. Her voice came out like a whip, cracking through the still air. ¡°Me, the fuck is wrong with you!¡± She shoved herself off Iman, the shove harder than it needed to be, like a spark looking for a fuse.

    Iman¡¯s eyes widened, taking a half-step back. ¡°Okay, now with me¡­¡± Her voice dropped low, controlled, but the tension bled through. ¡°You better be careful where you place your hands.¡±

    ¡°Oh really?¡± Piper scoffed, the sarcasm sharp on her tongue. ¡°You really wanna do this?¡±

    Iman¡¯s narrowed gaze held steady, her lips twitching, a smile battling the corners of her mouth. ¡°No, Piper. But¡­ I agree with you.¡±

    The air in the room thickened. Piper hesitated, her fist still cocked, and she let out a low, humorless laugh. ¡°I always wonder,¡± she began, her eyes narrowing, voice taking on a more dangerous edge. ¡°Have you always been this cheeky and sarcastic? Or is it just when Henryk comes into the picture? Nice to know you¡¯ve got your allies with Clive.¡±

    Iman¡¯s eyes went wide, but she wasn¡¯t backing down. ¡°Okay, what the hell did I do?¡± Her gaze bounced between Piper and Zephyr, the frustration beginning to boil. ¡°Zephyr, explain yourself!¡± she snapped, her voice high with an edge of desperation. But something shifted in her chest then. A feeling. A pulse that hit her like a rush of blood to the head. Her body slackened, her teeth gritting as she slowly hunched forward, eyes darting to the side.

    ¡°An animal approaches¡­¡± Iman whispered under her breath, her green eyes flickering to the side, caught in some invisible, pressing force.

    Then, from the corner of the room, a voice, cold and unnatural, slipped into the conversation. ¡°Zephyr sent me to deal with pests on the backwater worlds. Iman was¡­ excellent support.¡±

    Clive. The name dripped like oil from the air.

    The man who stepped into view was human, or so it seemed. He was unnaturally tall, his limbs stretched and elongated, hands like pale branches reaching out. His face, though, something about it made the room feel too tight. His eyes were sunken, hollowed-out black pits, as though the life within him had been drained and replaced with something else. The crystalline yellow hair that framed his face caught the light in odd ways, giving him an ethereal, eerie glow.

    Piper¡¯s hand shot up instinctively to wipe the sweat from her brow, but her eyes stayed locked on him. The more she stared, the more he seemed to move¡ªlike the shadows themselves were trying to swallow him whole.

    But it wasn¡¯t Iman who noticed it first. No, it was Clive. And he was looking at them like a man watching an old movie play out in front of him.

    ¡°Clive,¡± Zephyr murmured, his voice lower than usual, the edge of something unfamiliar in it. He wiped the sweat from his brow with an uncomfortable shift of his shoulders, leaning back slightly. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you after your mission¡­¡± His voice faltered, as if uncertain, unsure. ¡°I hope you¡­ I hope you¡¯ve been enjoying your time back.¡±

    Clive sank into a chair with a slow, deliberate grace, his limbs too long for the space, his posture odd. He rested his pale chin on his hand, freshly shaven skin shining with an unnatural smoothness. ¡°It was honestly a bore. Iman could tell you¡­¡± His lips curled into something too wide, too unsettling.

    Iman¡¯s eyes flickered toward him, a sudden recognition flashing in her expression. But she slowly shook her head, swallowing hard as she spoke. ¡°Dealing with raiders and bandits is one thing. But Jacen¡¯s Pirates¡­ They¡¯re growing. They¡¯ve been a problem for years and¡ª¡±

    Clive sneered, the corner of his mouth pulling back unnaturally. ¡°We should¡¯ve just gotten the president to authorize a firebomb on them and their slave worlds. Better to let them burn than belong to the enemy¡­¡± His voice was cold, like stone. Unfeeling.

    And then, the room fell silent. The words hung, dead air pressing into every corner, stifling any sound. No one moved. No one breathed. Not even Iman, who had seen much in her days, could shake the shiver that ran down her spine. Clive was too still. Too¡­ something else. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

    Clive sighed, his voice returning to its unsettling calm. ¡°Now, what¡¯s this about Henryk?¡± He chuckled softly, but it was the kind of chuckle that didn''t quite reach the eyes. That hollow laugh.

    Iman and Piper were both stunned into silence, but Zephyr¡­ Zephyr was quiet, his eyes narrowing, as though seeing something hidden behind Clive¡¯s expression. A thought clicked into place, something he hadn¡¯t expected to find. He hadn¡¯t thought Clive would return like this.

    <hr>

    Later, in the solitude of Zephyr¡¯s office, the quiet was thick, the only sound being the crackling of a fire, the glow flickering in the darkened room. Clive sat sprawled in a chair, his hands resting in strange angles, fingers twisted in ways that made Zephyr¡¯s stomach churn slightly.

    Zephyr poured the tea, his hands trembling as he poured it into Clive¡¯s cup, though he tried to hide it. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d have a taste for this sort of stuff,¡± he remarked, his voice forced casual, but the weight of something unspoken hung between them.

    Clive chuckled low, the sound of it too dry, too empty. ¡°How so?¡± he asked, his voice almost mocking, as though he found the question more amusing than anything.

    Zephyr waved it off, but it was clear he was trying to shake off the unease. ¡°Enough of that,¡± he muttered, his hand shaking slightly as he set the teapot down. But when he smiled, it was wide, far too wide, and the rows of teeth seemed too sharp for a smile that should belong to anyone human. ¡°I¡¯ve heard rumors. About Simon¡ªthe turncoat. He issued a duel against me.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s face shifted, a flash of panic crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a cough. His hand went to the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that didn¡¯t feel like Zephyr. ¡°Oh¡­ that,¡± he chuckled weakly. ¡°Piper handled the whole thing, it was months ago when you were¡­¡±

    Clive¡¯s lips curled into a sneer, and the smile widened. ¡°She fubered the whole thing.¡± His voice dropped, too sweet, too dark. ¡°I gave him a lesson with his girlfriend. And now? He wants more.¡± He chuckled, deep and guttural. ¡°I¡¯ll give them both a lesson they won¡¯t forget.¡±

    ¡°Clive, there can¡¯t be any more incidents,¡± Zephyr said, his voice low, a hint of something dark lurking beneath the calm. His hand came to his face, fingers pressed hard against his temples as if he could push away the weight of it all. ¡°I¡¯ve covered for you before. Hell, I covered for you when the first years were locked in the basement. I took the fall then. But this¡ªthis needs to stop. All I need from you is to go back and finish a couple more missions. No more.¡±

    Clive rolled his eyes, the movement slow, exaggerated, a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°It¡¯s always one more mission, isn¡¯t it? When is it enough?¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s breath hitched, a tremor running through his body. He hadn¡¯t expected to speak it, hadn¡¯t prepared for it, but it spilled out like blood from an open wound. ¡°Enough¡­¡± His voice grew sterner, the words harder now, like he¡¯d finally found the courage he didn¡¯t know he had. ¡°Enough is when you¡¯ve repaid the lives and people you¡¯ve hurt. I don¡¯t know who¡¯s pulling the strings for you to be here, but I won¡¯t have you hurting anyone else. Not on my watch.¡±

    Zephyr stood, his chair scraping against the floor, the room feeling smaller with each passing second. He moved with the calm purpose of a man who had just made up his mind. He reached into his side pocket, drew out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Clive.

    Clive glanced at it, then stuffed it into his pocket without another word. ¡°What is this?¡± he asked, though his tone was more casual, too casual.

    ¡°Your new mission,¡± Zephyr said, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and something deeper. ¡°There are rumors about The GrimGar in the backwater sectors. The Mercurian Government wants a proper confirmation.¡±

    Clive¡¯s laughter broke the tension like a knife cutting through cloth. He raised an eyebrow, an unsettling grin spreading across his face. ¡°Okay. Who am I allowed to take? Which battalion?¡±

    Zephyr opened his mouth to speak, but Clive raised a hand to silence him. ¡°And Zephyr, I¡¯ve been through hell with Iman and her ¡®bloody 34th¡¯,¡± he sneered, the mockery in his voice biting at every syllable. ¡°All that comradery and brotherhood. Honestly, I want my old guys back. They¡¯ve probably missed me. Been waiting for a chance to let loose.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s face darkened, his jaw tightening. ¡°They¡¯ve been under lock and key ever since the whole incident with Emma. Christ, Clive, you could¡¯ve killed her.¡±

    Clive shrugged, his expression cold, almost bored. ¡°But I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but you still hurt her.¡± Zephyr¡¯s voice cracked under the weight of it. ¡°You hurt a lot of people. And for what? Because they¡¯re not ¡®your people¡¯? Because they don¡¯t look like you or talk like you?¡±

    Clive stood slowly, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. He wasn¡¯t done yet. ¡°Looks like Simon and his whore of a girlfriend get to breathe another day. Every day¡¯s a gift, right? But when I come back, Zephyr¡­¡± His voice dropped to a whisper that felt like it would cut through the air like a blade. ¡°When I come back, I¡¯ll have more breathing room. We¡¯re all going to have a lot of fun.¡±

    The door clicked shut behind him, and Zephyr just stared at it, his breath shallow. A moment passed¡ªtwo, then five¡ªbut the silence only pressed harder. He had been expecting Clive to come back in. Just for a minute. But the tenth minute stretched on, and Zephyr sank into his chair.

    The bruise from Piper¡¯s slap still burned, but it was the gnawing feeling in his chest that felt like it might tear him apart. He could still hear their voices, like echoes in the void. Piper¡¯s. Iman¡¯s.

    ¡°Henryk Brown, you are truly an anomaly,¡± Zephyr muttered to himself, his words a dry rasp. He stood again, his legs unsteady as he reached for the bottle of gin beneath his desk. A glass in hand, he poured himself a drink, the liquid sloshing out in uneven waves, as if even the alcohol knew how badly he needed to drown something.

    ¡°Backwater boy with adventure in his eyes and glory,¡± he said with a dark laugh, eyes glassy as he turned to look out the window. The stars shimmered beyond the fog, beautiful, almost serene, but Zephyr saw none of it. He saw Piper¡¯s words, felt them like a slap across the face.

    ¡°Damn it¡­ we would¡¯ve made enemies of House Venus and House Neptune. They don¡¯t get it, they never saw a House Execution before. They don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like being the last person standing, watching the people you¡¯ve known for years get cut down¡­ like animals!¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s voice rose, the words tumbling out of him, raw and jagged. The glass cracked in his grip, blood trickling down his wrist as he stared at what he¡¯d done in shock. The pain felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.

    Tears welled in his eyes, slipping down his face, falling silently onto the desk in front of him. His hands shook as he curled into himself, slumping back into his chair.

    ¡°I am really fucked up.¡±

    <u>Logan</u>

    Stella¡¯s long black hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, the strands brushing against the collar of her white dress shirt. Her icy blue eyes, cold and calculating, were locked on the desk before her, her hands clasped tightly together. Logan of Neptune sat opposite her, his legs casually propped up, looking far too comfortable for someone whose presence should¡¯ve been more imposing.

    ¡°Logan, can you be honest with me?¡± she asked, her voice quiet but edged with something sharper.

    ¡°Of course, you¡¯re the president after all,¡± Logan said, his tone light, dismissive even, as though it were just another routine conversation. He was never one for seriousness, and it always irked her.

    Stella¡¯s gaze lingered on him for a moment, her eyes softening, as if the warmth of the fire that flickered at the far side of the room could somehow melt the chill she carried inside. It wasn¡¯t warmth she needed, though¡ªno, what she needed was a truth she hadn¡¯t heard in far too long.

    ¡°Am I? Am I really?¡± she muttered, more to herself than him, as the question lingered in the air.

    Logan didn¡¯t respond immediately, his gaze shifting to the rain that began to pelt the windows, the steady rhythm of the droplets somehow making everything feel more somber, more serious than it was meant to be. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

    ¡°We may have modernized, but people still listen to those with ARC bloodlines flowing through them,¡± she continued, the words coming out slow and heavy, as if each one weighed a hundred pounds.

    Logan sat in silence, his eyes scanning the rain but never fully meeting her gaze. Finally, his lips curled into a soft, almost mocking smile. ¡°This whole duel¡ªHenryk got involved.¡±

    Stella frowned. The name hit her like a slap, and the discomfort gnawed at her stomach. ¡°Yeah, we nearly got lucky getting that mutant hick out of here,¡± Logan snickered, amusement tinging his words.

    Stella¡¯s gaze turned hard. She hadn¡¯t expected this response, not from him. Not this dismissive, casual attitude toward something so important. ¡°Why do you care so much?¡± she asked, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence.

    The room went deathly still. Logan didn¡¯t speak. He didn¡¯t need to.

    But Stella wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Logan, you did not get involved in this duel. That¡¯s unlike you,¡± she said, her tone now rising in a challenge, a push that begged for an answer.

    Logan shifted in his seat, his posture shifting just slightly as though he were trying to get comfortable, but his voice came out slow and guarded. ¡°Jaicob¡¯s got a personal score to settle with the Martians.¡±

    Stella¡¯s eyes narrowed. A dark understanding flickered in her gaze. ¡°Ah, so there was a calling for blood last night,¡± she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

    Logan went quiet again, the words hanging between them like smoke. He exhaled sharply, his arms wrapping around himself, as if he needed to shield something, to hold himself together. ¡°Stella, are you trying to say something?¡± he asked, a sharpness creeping into his voice that she hadn¡¯t expected.

    ¡°Am I?¡± she snapped, eyes narrowing into slits as the tension in the room thickened. She leaned forward, her fingers drumming against the desk. ¡°I know you, Logan. I¡¯ve known you and your brother for years. And there¡¯s one thing I know about the Neptune brothers¡­¡±

    Logan raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face, though something in his eyes warned her that he knew what was coming. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±

    Stella¡¯s eyes bored into him. ¡°Your pride and ego hold no bounds.¡± The words were spat, venom laced in each syllable. She pointed at him, her voice rising. ¡°You would¡¯ve savored fighting Piper again. I know how you feel about female pilots.¡±

    Logan rolled his eyes at that, as though the very notion of a woman challenging him were beneath him.

    Stella chuckled darkly, the sound not reaching her eyes. ¡°Listen, Logan. I know that many within the House listen to your words over mine. I know that one day, you¡¯ll sit in this chair. But that day is not today. And I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s you or if it¡¯s circumstance, but I¡¯ve heard rumors¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, an unsettling weight settling over her words.

    Logan scoffed, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. ¡°Rumors? Is that what we¡¯re doing now? Rumors, huh? From what I¡¯m hearing, people are saying that good ol¡¯ Henryk¡¯s actions with Jace¡¯s sister were just a rumor?¡± he mocked.

    Stella rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, they are,¡± she replied flatly, frustration evident. ¡°Especially with the way he was risking his life on Oceana.¡± Her hand pointed toward the window as if the planet outside could answer for her. She sighed and leaned back into her chair, her exhaustion creeping in. ¡°...And what are we doing on that planet?¡± she asked, her voice quiet, drained.

    Logan¡¯s expression twisted, his gaze hardening as he stared her down. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± The accusation was sharp, biting, like an unspoken challenge.

    He continued, his voice gaining force. ¡°We¡¯re bringing orders to people who¡¯ve been oppressed for generations. They¡¯ll have access to schools, an education. They¡¯ll live outside that rigid class system. We¡¯re giving them a chance to be treated like human beings.¡±

    Stella¡¯s glare could¡¯ve cut glass. She leaned forward, eyes locked onto him. ¡°Yeah, and they¡¯re going to be subjected to our laws. They¡¯ll have to follow the Neptunian creed. And they¡¯ll have to offer us all their mutants¡ª¡±

    She stopped, mid-sentence, when she saw his face. The way it twisted, contorted, like she had spoken a word he¡¯d never heard before. The raw anger and something else¡ªsomething broken.

    Logan¡¯s voice was thick, almost pleading. ¡°Have you lost faith in our cause?¡± he asked, his tone soft but filled with disbelief.

    Stella¡¯s gaze never wavered as she took in Logan¡¯s words, her lips thin, her jaw tense. She swallowed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on her chest. ¡°Those people you say we¡¯re saving,¡± she began, her voice slow, deliberate, ¡°why is it that all the reports I¡¯m getting speak of terrorizing? Of them fighting against us?¡± She looked at him then, her icy eyes cold and sharp. ¡°They prefer the Martians.¡±

    Logan¡¯s face twisted, his usual cocky demeanor vanishing in an instant. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking say that,¡± he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

    Silence. A deep, suffocating silence. Logan stood there, every inch of him radiating frustration, anger¡ªa man who had been unbothered by the weight of the universe only moments ago, now visibly shaking with the strain of the conversation. His face, once a mask of confidence, was contorted in disgust.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. Don¡¯t you dare sit in that chair and act like you¡¯re all innocent,¡± Logan snapped, his voice thickening with each word. He stood, bracing himself as he pointed a trembling finger at her, the intensity of his anger crackling in the air.

    ¡°Those reports you¡¯re getting¡ªI hear it from my brother in real time. He¡¯s on that surface, waging a war against a bunch of uncivilized feudal apes!¡± His voice boomed, vibrating off the walls. ¡°Once we deal with the heir, my brother takes the bitch¡¯s hand, and we¡¯ll force the population into compliance. No more people need to die, but this is the way things have to be.¡±

    Stella¡¯s gaze narrowed, her lips curling into a bitter sneer. ¡°¡­And why?¡± she spat, her voice as hard as stone. ¡°They¡¯ve cleared the way for students at the Academy¡ªspecifically Neptunian students¡ªto do Guild missions in the Oceana Sector.¡±

    Logan smirked. ¡°Nice,¡± he said, almost casually, as if the weight of his words meant nothing.

    ¡°Nice?¡± Stella repeated, her voice sharp, disbelief rippling through her like a wave. Her mouth hung open, unable to reconcile his flippancy with the situation at hand.

    Logan simply nodded. ¡°My father paid a pretty penny for that. A private war. We end this quickly. The Emperor¡¯s eyes are on the rebels in the Backwaters. We can take Oceana. Hell, if we play our cards right, we can turn all four planets blue.¡±

    Stella¡¯s breath caught in her chest, the implications of his words settling like lead in her stomach. Her eyes widened, the fire of ambition flickering behind his words¡ªwords that threatened to change the universe in ways she hadn¡¯t fully considered. ¡°¡­Our greatest dream,¡± she murmured, her lips trembling, as if the words themselves could fracture her.

    ¡°One world for industry, another to force the rich, another for pleasure and vacation. Stella, the options are endless. You¡¯re president¡ªyou have to understand this,¡± Logan continued, his tone growing slick with ambition, as though he were trying to sell her the world.

    Stella¡¯s gaze, however, had drifted. Her eyes, once locked on his, now stared down at the desk, as though searching for a reason to anchor herself. She could feel the room closing in around her, each word from Logan cutting deeper.

    ¡°Just hold on, Stella,¡± he added, his smile widening, as though the future were a tangible thing in his grasp. ¡°Like you said, one day I¡¯ll take this position.¡± His voice softened, almost fondly, the words slipping out like a well-rehearsed line. ¡°Like my elder brother, I¡¯ll bring honor and pride to my House and Planet. This¡­ This will make my brother a King. A King for the history books. The kind of history they¡¯ll teach for centuries. They¡¯ll be talking about this for generations.¡±

    He said it with a smile, but Stella couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of it. The coldness of it. The unshakable certainty in his voice that this was the only path forward.

    ¡°The Martians are gone,¡± he said, matter-of-factly, as though he had closed a chapter in a book.

    But as the words sank into the air, a sickness rose in Stella¡¯s gut. Not pity. Not remorse. Not the faintest shred of sympathy for the Martians or their fall. No, it was something darker. Something deeper. The words Logan had spoken hadn¡¯t hit her like they were supposed to. They hadn¡¯t delivered the closure he thought they would.

    Her mind churned, spiraling back to the conversation she¡¯d had with Gerald¡ªlong ago, it seemed. The Martians, even wounded, even scattered across the stars, weren¡¯t gone. Not yet, at least. And something deep inside Stella knew that their story wasn¡¯t over. It wasn¡¯t finished. Not by a long shot.

    <u>Bri</u>

    ¡°Himari!¡± Bri¡¯s voice sliced through the air, sharp and urgent. Himari¡¯s face scrunched in confusion before she turned, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of her strange roommate frantically waving from across the room.

    ¡°Hold on...¡± Himari mouthed, nodding to her friends before she slipped away. They moved quickly, her boots clicking against the floor, echoing in the cavernous lecture hall of the Academy. They ducked into a nearby side room, its walls darkened by the faint shadows of old stone, and the stale air hung heavy with the scent of chalk and dust. Himari had paid for the sodas earlier, her mind elsewhere as Bri¡¯s unsettling presence loomed closer.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Himari asked, her voice a whisper but laced with a curiosity she couldn¡¯t quite suppress.

    Bri shook her head, her movements erratic. ¡°I¡¯ve been having dreams about Henryk for the last couple of weeks,¡± she said, her voice raw, like she hadn¡¯t spoken of it aloud before.

    Himari¡¯s brow furrowed before her lips twisted into a knowing smirk. ¡°Oh, someone may just have a crush,¡± she teased, the words light and teasing, as if trying to dismiss the weight Bri¡¯s words had carried.

    Bri let out a breath, shaking her head vehemently. Her shoulders slumped as if carrying an unseen burden. ¡°Nah, I don¡¯t think so,¡± she muttered. Her hand rose to rub her face, the dark bags under her eyes betraying her sleepless nights. ¡°Ever since I saw that Peyton¡­ I haven¡¯t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, it¡¯s like I¡¯m dreaming, and it¡¯s always about him. I know they¡¯re not real, but they feel too real. Too personal.¡±

    Himari turned to her side, cracking open her soda with a soft hiss and taking a long swig. She chuckled darkly, her voice light but tinged with mischief. ¡°Like what? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re imagining him doing things in his private moments?¡±

    Bri let out a hollow laugh but shook her head. ¡°Listen,¡± she said, her voice lower now, the unease creeping in, ¡°I just want to know what happened with this whole mess between House Neptune, Earth House, Venus House, Mars House¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of fear and frustration.

    Himari¡¯s eyes darted to the open door, her breath catching. She moved swiftly, closing the distance between them. ¡°Woah, woah, woah,¡± she whispered urgently. Her gaze flickered nervously over her shoulder as if expecting someone to overhear. ¡°Listen, there wasn¡¯t even anything involving Venus, not from what I recall¡­¡±

    Bri¡¯s eyes narrowed further, and her voice dropped, becoming more conspiratorial. ¡°Some no-name got involved with a bunch of names,¡± she muttered, her tone darkening. ¡°Listen, I just need to know if¡­¡±

    Himari, sensing the tension rising, cut her off. ¡°Listen, Bri, this is weird,¡± she said, her voice shaking with hesitation. ¡°I get it¡ªyou were asked to check out Henryk¡¯s intentions and¡­¡± She stopped herself, unsure how much to reveal, but Bri was already way past the point of subtlety.

    ¡°That¡¯s not it,¡± Bri spat, her eyes wild. ¡°I see him. Every night.¡±

    Himari blinked, taken aback by the force of Bri¡¯s words. ¡°Like¡­what? Just tell me,¡± she pressed, though her voice trembled.

    Bri sighed, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all was finally sinking in. ¡°They¡¯re not all bad¡­sometimes they¡¯re worse. But last night wasn¡¯t¡­¡± She trailed off, a slight smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Yesterday, he was just playing video games in his room. It was like watching him tethered to the physical world. I could see his house¡ªhis posters, his bed. He¡¯s just a normal boy, Himari. Innocent, really. Just a kid. He¡¯s talented, sure, but lucky to even make it this far. And I fear the Academy is going to chew him up.¡±

    Himari leaned back slightly, the weight of Bri¡¯s words sinking in. She could hear the trembling in her voice, the confusion and doubt fighting against the rising tide of something darker. ¡°And you think the witches pushed him to this? Why would they? If he¡¯s really that innocent, why go after him?¡± Himari¡¯s voice grew softer, almost reassuring, but her eyes held something darker behind them. She looked around before moving closer, speaking almost into Bri¡¯s ear. ¡°And Jace¡ªhe¡¯s not right. I¡¯ve heard what he tried to do to Sirine, and to that sister of his¡­ There¡¯s talk that Henryk¡­¡±

    Bri nodded, the dark glint in her eyes only deepening. ¡°I know,¡± she said quietly. Her breath hitched, and her voice cracked slightly. ¡°I see him, Himari. Maybe¡­maybe I see his future. Or at least fragments. Maybe memories. I don¡¯t know. But I¡¯m telling you, sometimes¡­¡± She paused, her hands trembling at her sides as she stood, eyes wide with the fear she could no longer hide. ¡°I think I see why the witches are afraid.¡±

    Himari froze, her breath caught in her chest, the silence between them deepening like a chasm. She couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t breathe for a moment. Bri took a slow, steadying breath before continuing, her voice trembling.

    ¡°Henryk Brown is capable of becoming one of the strongest beings in this universe. The Peyton, one of the cursed mentors. And the Imp. There are many futures for Henryk, Himari. Many futures. But there¡¯s one I fear the most¡­¡± Bri¡¯s lips curled into a sneer, her hands clutching at the fabric of her robes. ¡°A Warlord. A Warlord of galactic proportions. A Million Sons for Henryk Brown¡­ but only two true.¡±

    Himari¡¯s mind reeled, her heart hammering in her chest. She could barely hear her own thoughts over the pounding of her pulse. ¡°What are you saying?¡± Her voice cracked, her eyes wide in disbelief. She glanced around again, paranoia clawing at the back of her mind. ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve heard talk of Henryk leaving. I doubt you¡¯re going to keep having those dreams about him. Not after¡­¡±

    Bri¡¯s hand shot out, pushing Himari away with a force that shocked her. ¡°You don¡¯t get it,¡± Bri hissed, her back turned now as she retreated, her voice trembling with a fear that dripped from every word. ¡°The Peyton¡­ he¡¯s there too. Always smiling. Smiling at me in my dreams. And I fear¡­¡± Bri paused, her voice softening with terror. ¡°I fear¡­ he¡¯s ensnared me.¡±

    <u>Henryk</u>

    The Hanger, or what the older students called it, wasn¡¯t truly a hanger at all. No, it was a vast landing strip. From helicopters to the behemoths of ships that spanned the galaxy, it was the same place that had carried Henryk and thousands like him here to the academy.

    "Fuck, fuck," Henryk muttered, his eyes scanning the expanse of the landing strip, his feet dragging across the cracked pavement. The final transport ship soared into the sky, casting the airfield in a blazing orange glow. It zipped away, faster than he''d ever hoped to move. "Shit, shit, shit," he cursed again, pressing forward, the rhythm of his sneakers pounding against the tarmac.

    But it was too late. Any craft that might have been waiting to take him home had already left, or worse, had been locked down for the night. In the distance, he saw the dots of workers scattering, most of them probably off to the dorms or their homes for the evening, while only the late shift remained.

    "I am such an idiot..." The words slipped from Henryk¡¯s lips, bitter and resigned.

    He had been goofing around with House Mars, catching up with friends when he should''ve been preparing to leave. Now he had already checked out, already left his house for the night. How awkward would it be to ask for another bed tonight? The thought made him cringe.

    But his mind immediately returned to the looming, silent dread of the Academy. He had no business being here alone. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d felt so vulnerable. And worse still, if he ran into another house¡­ he was still fair game.

    ¡°Henryk¡­¡±

    The voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. He jerked, instinctively reaching for his duffel bag. But as he turned and saw the small, pudgy figure approaching, his body relaxed.

    ¡°Mags?¡± He blinked, his shoulders sagging in relief.

    Mag¡¯s stood there, dressed in the deep, dull yellow military uniform of Saturn House. She was half his height, her pale skin contrasting with her chubby face, yet she carried herself with an unwavering straightness, a kind of purposeful grace. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail that fell to her chest.

    "Henryk Brown, I had a feeling you''d be here," she said, her voice flat, though not unfriendly.

    ¡°Mags,¡± Henryk replied, his gaze dropping to the ground. His thoughts wandered briefly to Jose¡ªher and Jose both came from the same colony, back before everything had changed.

    ¡°You want to talk?¡± she asked, her voice flat but inquisitive. She cocked her head towards the hanger. ¡°Looks like you don¡¯t have anywhere else to be.¡±

    Henryk let out a dry laugh. It was weak, but genuine enough. He shoved his hands into his pockets as they began walking together.

    The path back to the hanger was narrow, bordered by dilapidated, half-abandoned buildings, all remnants of failed mechanical shops, the kind of places that were meant to be repurposed, gentrified¡ªgiven new life¡ªbut had long since fallen to neglect.

    They walked in silence, Henryk lost in his thoughts. He hadn¡¯t really spoken to Mags except when attached to Jose¡¯s side, and even then, she¡¯d been quiet. Now, there was a weight to her presence. A stillness in the air.

    "Why are you leaving?" she asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was blunt, cutting through the noise in Henryk¡¯s mind.

    "You waiting for me?" he asked, his voice carrying a trace of uncertainty.

    Mags chuckled softly, the sound almost hollow in the quiet of the dead buildings. "Came late, same as you," she replied, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something heavier. "I¡­was¡ªto deliver the news about Jose. His mother¡­ she doesn¡¯t know yet. Thought I¡¯d give it to her in person."

    He didn¡¯t know how to answer at first. The question caught him off guard, raw and real. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were such a big fan of Jose,¡± she said with a weak attempt at humor, but it fell flat.

    Mag¡¯s let out a sigh, shaking her head, her steps slowing. She walked with purpose, but her words had a certain heaviness to them. ¡°Honestly, he always talked too much,¡± she muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t know why he was even allowed to enroll here. What does a governor¡¯s son have to prove? You¡¯d think someone with connections like that would have better things to do.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s gaze drifted back to the ground. He hadn¡¯t expected her to speak so openly about Jose. It made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn¡¯t explain.

    Mag¡¯s sighed again, her pace slowing further. ¡°He was a fool,¡± she said softly. ¡°A fool with a sick mother who needed him. And me? I¡¯ve got five other sisters. I¡¯m not carrying my family¡¯s name, so if I died... well, it wouldn¡¯t have been the end of the world for them.¡±

    The words hung in the air, heavy and bitter, and Henryk found his chest tightening.

    ¡°But your life still matters, Mags,¡± he spat, the words coming out before he could stop them.

    Mag¡¯s stopped walking, her eyes narrowing slightly, her lips pressing together. Silence stretched between them. She didn¡¯t reply at first, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had gone still.

    Henryk shook his head, frustration flickering across his face. ¡°Listen, the same reason I was able to save all those people is the same reason I¡¯m stuck in this mess for killing Jose. I¡¯ve got morals. My own beliefs, my system.¡±

    Mags sighed, her breath heavy with something unsaid. ¡°You were accepted into one of the greatest Houses in the Solar System. I¡¯ve heard the tales of what House Mars is capable of. Shameful, sure, but they¡¯re still strong. They¡¯ve got their power.¡±

    Henryk dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands with a kind of restless energy. ¡°You make it sound so easy,¡± he muttered, the words thick with irony.

    ¡°You¡¯re a natural at this,¡± Mags replied with a snap of her fingers. ¡°I saw what you were capable of at Oceana. Imagine what you¡¯ll be in a year or two.¡± She spoke with the kind of certainty that came from seeing someone¡¯s potential before they even knew it themselves.

    ¡°Your enthusiasm¡¯s a little too much,¡± Henryk said, his voice strained. ¡°How do I know if I¡¯ll even make it that far?¡±

    Mags sneered, her lips curling with a kind of bitter amusement. ¡°I knew from the moment Jose was accepted by House Venus that they were playing him. I don¡¯t even want to imagine what they asked of him to get into that messed-up house. But you... you were meant to be here. I saw you on the holos. A real knight. A space knight.¡± She chuckled at the absurdity of it, but there was something in her voice that held a certain reverence.

    ¡°You¡¯re already here,¡± she continued. ¡°Out of billions in the galaxy, it¡¯s you and fifty thousand others who get to attend here. You¡¯re the exception.¡± She paused, her gaze settling on him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. ¡°Why are you here, really, Henryk?¡±

    For a long moment, Henryk said nothing. The question hung between them like a weight, pulling at him in ways he wasn¡¯t sure he could untangle. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before. ¡°For the longest time, I thought I was here because of my family, my colony. And yeah, that¡¯s part of it. But honestly... I think I wanted to be like my dad.¡±

    Mags blinked, taken aback. ¡°Like your father?¡± she asked, the question slow, curious.

    Henryk¡¯s sigh was sharp, heavy with something he wasn¡¯t ready to face. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about him. Lately, when I say that, I mean it.¡± He chuckled, but it was dark, tinged with something bitter. ¡°I was born on some slave colony. My father crash-landed there. He was burned up¡ªgood chunk of his body, nearly all of it. But he survived. Barely.¡±

    ¡°Christ,¡± Mags whispered, horror crossing her face. ¡°That¡¯s... that''s horrible.¡±

    Henryk nodded, his eyes distant as they stopped in front of the empty, decaying buildings that lined the path. ¡°He met my mom. Had me. Then he waged a revolution. He wasn¡¯t gonna let his kid grow up in chains. He was some third or fourth son of minor imperial royalty, but... it didn¡¯t matter. He didn¡¯t care. He taught us all how to fight, how to resist. Died for it, too.¡±

    Mags¡¯ eyes widened, and Henryk waved it off. ¡°I¡¯m just saying. That¡¯s how he got the training. And it was good. Very few died in that revolution. But it was because of him¡ªthe way he led¡ªthat my mom and the rest of the people were saved. They radioed the Imperials, and soon after, a new governor came to the planet.¡±

    ¡°What a wonderful and heroic story,¡± Mags murmured, but it wasn¡¯t dismissive. There was awe in her voice, despite the heaviness in Henryk¡¯s words.

    Henryk sighed deeply, leaning against a crumbling wall. ¡°I¡¯ve been told that story my whole life. Hell, the whole colony has. The governor a couple of years ago even funded a statue of my dad. Put his name out there for everyone to see. To everyone else, it¡¯s a tale. A legend. But to me? He¡¯s just a name. The hero I¡¯ll never know. The father I¡¯ll never meet.¡±

    The silence between them deepened. Mags didn¡¯t know what to say.

    Henryk continued, his voice softer now, touched with an unspoken grief. ¡°You know what it¡¯s like to walk into a store, into a restaurant in my old colony? To hear people laughing, crying over my father¡¯s name, his deeds? And I don¡¯t even know the man. Never had the chance.¡±

    He paused, that smile creeping back onto his face. It wasn¡¯t sad exactly, but it was painful. ¡°I wanted to do this. I wanted to be a hero. I thought maybe... maybe I could be closer to him somehow. Follow in his footsteps. But also...¡±

    He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locking with Mags. ¡°¡­because I¡¯m good at this.¡±

    And in the way he said it, there was something both triumphant and tragic. Something that felt like a victory and a curse all at once.

    Because Henryk was starting to realize something¡ªa truth buried deep within his own heart.

 Chapter 14 - Let Me Show You How I Fly

    Chapter 14 - Let Me Show You How I Fly

    <hr>

    <u>One Month Later</u>

    A planet for every man. He¡¯d told his mother that once. Hell, even the Governor of his world had said that if he could pull it off, they¡¯d build him a damn statue.

    Henryk stood with his arms crossed, his back straight, gaze fixed on the Sons of Mars'' main transport ship. Bea had done a hell of a job fixing it up after the escape from Oceana. It was spaceworthy again, patched together with Martian ingenuity and sheer necessity.

    He told himself he could do this. Just one more battle. One more day. But he hadn¡¯t been sleeping.

    ¡°Good to see you,¡± Arthur¡¯s voice cut through the stillness. He moved effortlessly in zero-G, propelling himself along the wall with practiced ease, drifting toward Henryk. They were in the hangar¡ªa small, cramped space housing their mechs. Beyond that lay the engines and armory, and ahead, the cockpit and sleeping quarters.

    ¡°It¡¯s late,¡± Henryk said. ¡°What are you guys doing up?¡±

    Arthur snorted, grabbing a railing to steady himself as he stared out at the endless sprawl of stars. ¡°It¡¯s different, seeing space like this. Strange.¡±

    Henryk studied him. ¡°I¡¯ve been on space travel missions before this, but I can¡¯t imagine what it¡¯s like for you.¡±

    Arthur was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled faintly. ¡°Feels right. Feels like I finally understand what my father and brother lived for. Knights of Mars.¡± His voice carried a quiet reverence. ¡°It¡¯s our birthright. Yours too, now.¡±

    Henryk hesitated. ¡°I¡ª¡±

    Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. ¡°Josephs has been educating me with old Earth films. From the 21st century.¡±

    Henryk smirked. ¡°Yeah, I remember you mentioning that. You got a favorite yet?¡±

    ¡°The Lord of the Rings,¡± Arthur said without hesitation.

    Henryk made a face. ¡°That¡¯s¡­not surprising.¡±

    Arthur raised a brow. ¡°Should it be? It¡¯s a tale of brotherhood and honor¡ªeverything we, as knights, are supposed to uphold.¡± His expression darkened. ¡°Chivalry too. But you haven¡¯t been properly schooled in the ways of Chivalry, have you, Squire Henryk?¡±

    Henryk shook his head.

    Arthur sighed. ¡°There will come a time. But if you stick with us, it¡¯s vital you learn. Senior members¡ªTruebloods¡ªhave been patient with you and the other squires, but ignorance of our ways will only take you so far.¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°Abandoning who you once were, embracing a higher calling¡ªthat¡¯s the path to absolution. Medieval life was brutal, but it forged warriors who could endure anything. You¡¯re already strong for baseline stock. If you survive, if you prove yourself, one day you¡¯ll bear the Spikes of Mars, like Kieren before you. But first, you must be knighted.¡±

    Henryk said nothing, but Arthur seemed content to let his words sink in. What unsettled Henryk the most wasn¡¯t the talk of trials or knighthood. It was the word baseline.

    ¡°Yo, guys.¡± A voice rang out from across the hangar. Isaac. He propelled himself toward them with a casual grace. ¡°We¡¯re meeting in the living quarters. Ed wants to brief everyone before he crashes for the night.¡±

    Henryk exhaled slowly. One more mission. One more battle.

    He could do this.

    Or at least, that¡¯s what he told himself.

    Henryk and Arthur nodded in unison, propelling themselves forward in the zero-G hallway. Henryk¡¯s gaze flicked toward his mech as he reached for the railings, using them to adjust his trajectory. He threw himself forward, gliding effortlessly through the dimly lit passage.

    Oceana 4¡­ or was it 2? Hell, he could barely remember. The others would chew him out for that¡ªmilitary types never forgot details like that.

    His mech had once been a dull, weathered mix of blues, whites, and grays. Standard issue. But some of the others had started personalizing theirs. Arthur, ever the showman, had gone full war-paint¡ªhis machine now a bold crimson, the mark of the Red Templars. Foolish. Flashy. It¡¯d make him a goddamn target.

    Henryk had gone the opposite direction. Practical. His machine was now a slate-gray ghost, camouflaged with dark patches of black paint. The legs had been overhauled, bulkier now, reinforced with extra thrusters¡ªrocket engines, practically.

    His beam rifle still sat snug along one of the mech¡¯s ridges, a magazine-fed rifle and spare clips secured across his back. But the beam blades? Gone. He¡¯d traded raw aggression for speed, stripped down unnecessary weight, reinforced only the vital plates. He wanted to be fast. He wanted to fly. Bea had even theorized that on solid ground, he¡¯d be quick enough to hover, skimming the earth like a specter.

    It had a new name now. Martian MP-02RP Type B¡ªRocket Powered. The 02 marked Bea¡¯s custom modifications, lighter and sleeker than the standard MP-01s that Axel, Isaac, and Arthur still ran. Type B¡ªbuilt for movement. RP¡ªfor the engines strapped to its frame. It was his machine, his way of fighting.

    They reached the living quarters.

    Inside, Edward, Axel, Isaac, and¡ªsurprisingly¡ªKieren were already gathered. The room was tight, just enough space for the six of them. The MP-01 models had been distributed among their pilots, each with slight variations. Their ship wasn¡¯t big enough to carry an entire battalion, and the rest of their forces had duties elsewhere.

    Isaac leaned forward, elbows on the metal table. ¡°Alright, we¡¯re past orbit. What the hell are we doing back at Oceana? That place is still crawling with GrimGar.¡±

    Henryk and Arthur settled in as all eyes turned to Ed.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what this mission is about,¡± Ed said, his voice measured. ¡°Sure, there are scattered pockets of GrimGar left, but Oceana II is mostly dealing with the aftermath now.¡±

    Henryk exhaled sharply. ¡°Looks like goddamn World War I down there.¡±

    ¡°No kidding, countryman,¡± Arthur muttered before turning to Ed. ¡°But Isaac¡¯s got a point. Why all the secrecy?¡±

    Ed smirked. ¡°Didn¡¯t want to say anything until I was sure, but the Oceana sector is buzzing. Not about Mercury. Not even about Neptune.¡± His eyes swept across them. ¡°It¡¯s about Mars.¡±

    The room went dead quiet.

    Axel¡¯s violet eyes widened. ¡°Remnants?¡± His voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Actual remnants?¡±

    Ed nodded. ¡°Yeah. I had Bea track down a contractor¡ªsomeone with connections. We have a way in.¡± He paused, tapping his fingers against the cold metal of the table.

    The weight of his words settled over them.

    Mars.

    Something still remained.

    A figure flickered onto the screen. A bipedal humanoid, but unmistakably not human. Feminine in shape¡ªcurved at the bust and hips¡ªbut her skin was thick with fur, a pelt that covered her head to toe. Unlike Tyson, whose coat was dense and bristled, hers was finer, smoother, almost lupine. But it was the ears that drew the most attention, pointed and keen like a predator¡¯s, twitching even through the static feed.

    ¡°A mutant?¡± Isaac muttered, arms crossing, his expression hard. He gestured toward the screen, eyes narrowing. ¡°We¡¯re risking our asses for a mutant?¡±

    ¡°Enough of that.¡± Ed¡¯s voice snapped like a whip, cutting through the room. ¡°That girl you¡¯re calling a mutant? She¡¯s the heir to the fucking throne.¡±

    ¡°A woman?¡± Arthur scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk. He glanced around, his amusement spreading like a sickness. ¡°We¡¯re making women kings now?¡±

    Ed¡¯s sneer was immediate, his jaw tightening, his knuckles going white where they gripped the edge of the table. A vein twitched in his forehead, like it was moments from bursting. ¡°The nerve of you lot¡­¡± His voice dropped, low and sharp as a blade. ¡°I don¡¯t care if she¡¯s a mutant. I don¡¯t care if she¡¯s a girl.¡± He glared at them all, daring them to speak. ¡°What you will do is show up, keep your goddamn mouths shut, and show some fucking respect. This is the first real Martian contact in years, and I won¡¯t let you idiots screw it up.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright.¡± Axel lifted a hand, his tone easy. ¡°I get it, Ed. This girl¡ªshe¡¯s important. But what¡¯s the actual mission?¡±

    Ed exhaled through his nose, shaking his head before tapping the table again. The image shifted¡ªjungle terrain, dense and green, swallowing the landscape in layers of mist and shadow. At the heart of it all sat a structure, massive and boxlike, a fortress carved into the wild.

    ¡°This is their hideout,¡± Ed said. ¡°We¡¯re making planetfall and linking up with them.¡± He let the words hang, let them settle. ¡°The Oceana sector¡ªMercurians and Neptunians have been fighting over the scraps, but it¡¯s Neptune that¡¯s got the upper hand now. They¡¯ve declared war on the GrimGar and any bandits.¡± His eyes flicked over them, one by one. ¡°And when they say ¡®bandits,¡¯ what they really mean is anyone who stands against them.¡±

    The realization hit, slow but heavy.

    Ed continued, his voice lighter now, almost amused. ¡°Lucky for us, we¡¯ve got freelancer passes to get into Neptune. One of the few perks of not being tied to a guild back at the Academy.¡± He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°All the loopholes of a mercenary without the stability of a paycheck? Sign me the fuck up.¡±

    Kieren raised a hand. ¡°Should we expect resistance? If we¡¯re just meeting this girl and we¡¯ve got entry passes, can¡¯t we just¡­ walk in?¡±

    ¡°Theoretically,¡± Ed allowed, shrugging. ¡°But Neptune and Mars? Let¡¯s just say they¡¯ve never exactly been friends. And the Mercurians? They¡¯ve still got a presence there.¡±

    ¡°I thought they got pushed out?¡± Axel asked, frowning.

    ¡°Yeah, so did a lot of people.¡± Ed leaned back. ¡°But they¡¯re still hanging around the planet. Probably some political bullshit. Too much blood spilled, too many dead kids¡ªno way they¡¯re giving up those planets without a fight.¡±

    Henryk rubbed his jaw. ¡°How long till we reach the planet?¡±

    ¡°Two, maybe three days,¡± Ed said. Then, smirking, ¡°Which means we¡¯ve got time for training. Both physical and Warcasket drills.¡± He clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming. ¡°Hope you gents are ready for a workout.¡±

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper cradled a cup of coffee, staring blankly at the command dash in front of her. She exhaled, the steam curling up into her face. Routine patrol duty. This is my punishment? She scoffed under her breath.

    "Ensign Piper, why the hell are your lips moving?" barked Sergeant Jesus Gomez, his voice cutting through the hum of the bridge like a whip crack. His dark eyes swept the room, pinning her in place. "I run a tight shift. If you aren¡¯t speaking, I demand silence. And you know why..."

    Piper clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to facepalm. Under Lucas¡¯s command, things had been different. Relaxed. She could wear whatever the hell she wanted. She¡¯d gotten used to her pilot suit¡ªlived in it, really. A t-shirt underneath, ready to throw on a helmet at a moment¡¯s notice. Efficient. Practical.

    Now? She was suffocating in full ceremonial dress. Tight skirt, pressed blouse, stiff black shoes that pinched her feet. Hair pulled into a strict bun beneath her beret. If she hadn''t done it herself, they would¡¯ve just chopped it off.

    She really did miss Lucas.

    "You¡¯ve got a lot of nerve." Gomez sneered, his voice curling with contempt. "You¡¯re damn lucky you weren¡¯t kicked out of your placement. Many would¡¯ve killed for an ace role." His lip curled. "You¡¯re just a product of fucking nepotism¡ªall you rejects here are."

    Piper sucked in a breath through her nose, biting back a retort. She was an ace. Even if Zephyr didn¡¯t like her.

    Her gaze flicked toward the viewport, catching a streak of movement. A ship, cutting toward Oceana, its trajectory fast and unsteady. She squinted. Something felt off.

    ¡°Sir, we¡¯re receiving a distress signal,¡± one of the officers announced from the front of the bridge.

    Piper straightened, fingers flying over the console as she expanded the feed. A holographic sphere flickered to life, enlarging the visual. The breath in the room thickened.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± someone muttered.

    Even Gomez had gone silent, his hand gripping the thick mane of black hair atop his head. His voice, when it finally came, was measured. ¡°What colors are they flying?¡±

    Piper¡¯s stomach turned. ¡°House Mars,¡± she said.

    The room shifted, voices rising in murmurs and hushed curses. The shamed house.

    "What the hell are they doing here?" someone asked.

    Yet, it was unmistakable. Their transport shuttle, flames streaking along its hull, descending in a desperate arc toward the atmosphere. Below, Neptune¡¯s forces were waiting. A net of warships curled along Oceana Prime¡¯s orbit, like vultures circling carrion.

    And then, movement.

    A squad¡ªno, multiple squads¡ªdetached from the Neptunian fleet. Their mechs streaked toward the transport like blades through the sky, their blue exteriors shimmering under the distant sun. Utilitarian, bristling with spikes and energy weapons. Predators, closing in.

    A voice snarled through the comms, laced with venom.

    ¡°Die, Martian!¡±

    Jesus sneered. ¡°Ensign Piper, patch me in.¡±

    Piper didn¡¯t hesitate. Her fingers slammed the console. ¡°Gladly.¡±

    Static cracked before a voice answered, cool and dismissive. ¡°This is Battalion 111th of the Neptunian Forces. What are you school kids doing out here patrolling? Steer clear of¡ª¡±

    Jesus cut in, sharp as a blade. ¡°You are not authorized to conduct military action in this sector. That transport¡¯s papers have been cleared by the Mercurian government, and you are in direct violation of¡ª¡±

    The Neptunian pilot¡¯s voice came back, boiling with rage.

    ¡°This is not your planet,¡± he spat. ¡°Even when it bore Martian colors, it was the most coveted world in the sector. And you Mercurians? You will not hold its resources.¡±

    The comms cut.

    Silence stretched, taut as a tripwire.

    Jesus turned, his expression carved from stone. ¡°Ensign,¡± he snapped. ¡°Take out the prototype.¡± His gaze swept the room. ¡°I want three more on Piper¡¯s side. This is an excursion.¡±

    Piper¡¯s smirk flickered to life. She knew who was on that vessel.

    And she was about to make damn sure they survived.

    <u>Moments Before</u>

    Henryk was asleep. Chest bare, head heavy, his mind dulled to a sluggish haze.

    The only way he could sleep now.

    Then came the bang.

    A single, thunderous detonation ripped through the ship¡¯s belly. The impact sent a shockwave through the hull, rattling metal and bone alike. Henryk lurched awake, heart pounding, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

    It was supposed to be a seamless planetfall. A routine drop, slipping in on the Mercurian side without issue. But this¡ªthis wasn¡¯t routine. This was reckless. Even with Mars¡¯ reputation, they wouldn¡¯t have pulled something this bold. Were they asking for war?

    Henryk gritted his teeth. Be the warrior, Mag had told him. Accept the knight. The Sons of Mars weren¡¯t just soldiers¡ªthey were the evolution of what humanity could be. Stronger. Sharper. Superior.

    Pain was temporary. The Spikes of Mars made sure of that.

    Arthur had cauterized his own limbs like it was nothing. Henryk had seen it firsthand. And soon, if he survived long enough, he¡¯d inherit that same power.

    But not yet.

    The second blast came sharper, more precise. A laser shell screamed through their shields, rending them like paper. Sparks spat across the cabin, some landing on Henryk¡¯s face. His world lit up in agony.

    He howled, jerking to the side, clutching his face as fire tore through his vision. The scent of burnt flesh filled his nostrils.

    ¡°Henryk! Henryk!¡±

    Isaac¡¯s voice, sharp and panicked. Hands grabbed at him¡ªAxel, maybe Kieren too. Someone was laughing under their breath. Henryk sneered through the pain, the taste of blood thick in his mouth. His vision swam, darkening at the edges.

    A medkit hit the floor near his feet. A flashlight flared, hot and blinding. Isaac crouched beside him, rolling a bandage over the wound, tightening it across his eye.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look that bad,¡± Isaac muttered, securing the wrap. ¡°But you¡¯re gonna be a pirate for a bit. We need to keep the wound clean, or you¡¯ll be dealing with an infection and a scar.¡±

    Henryk ground his teeth, fist slamming against the deck. ¡°T-this fucking hurts.¡±

    Isaac stayed by him, even as the others scrambled. ¡°Back during the Fall of Mars, I fought on the surface with my dad. He was infantry¡ªa real warrior. I took a hit just like this.¡± He pointed to a faded set of scars along his eye, barely visible under the dim lights. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s not that bad.¡± He smirked. ¡°Martian girls love scars.¡±

    A chuckle, warm and genuine. Then, just as fast, Isaac¡¯s expression hardened.

    ¡°Get up, Henryk.¡± His grip tightened on Henryk¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re one of us now. You want the Spikes? Earn them. Push through the pain.¡±

    And with that, he shoved Henryk forward.

    The ship rocked again, harder this time, throwing them all off balance.

    ¡°Holy shit, my work!¡± Axel scrambled over the table, leaping clear just as another explosion rocked the vessel.

    ¡°We need to get to the hangar!¡± Arthur shouted, his voice hoarse. ¡°If we can return fire, get some people on the turrets, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°The ship is done,¡± Isaac snapped. ¡°Power¡¯s flickering, and I¡¯m¡ª¡±

    He stopped, head tilting, listening.

    Then his eyes widened.

    ¡°Masks and helmets¡ªNOW!¡±

    The others barely had time to react before a terrible groan echoed through the hull. Metal twisted, screamed, splitting apart with a sickening wrench. The air itself seemed to shudder.

    ¡°To the armory!¡± Isaac barked.

    They sprinted, barreling down the corridor as the living area behind them¡ªwhere they had just been¡ªwas ripped apart.

    A vacuumed howl filled the space where the walls had been, an abyss swallowing the remnants of the ship into the void. Gone. Just gone.

    Henryk skidded to a stop inside the armory, breath heaving. He turned, staring through the narrowing gap of the airlock.

    ¡°Holy shit.¡± He swallowed hard. ¡°You¡¯ve got some damn good reflexes.¡±

    Isaac exhaled sharply, still catching his breath. ¡°You fight on enough battlefields, you start reading things.¡±

    Kieren swept his gaze across the room. The armory was a mess¡ªhardly an armory at all.

    ¡°If this ship is getting blasted apart,¡± he said, ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t expecting decent gear.¡±

    Isaac snorted. ¡°It¡¯s rusty old Martian junk, scavenged from the dorms. Don¡¯t romanticize it.¡± The ship swayed violently. ¡°But it¡¯s better than nothing.¡±

    Henryk threw himself at his locker, fingers flying over the keypad. The ship groaned around him, another tremor rattling through the hull, but he barely noticed.

    ¡°It¡¯s power armor,¡± he muttered, half to himself, half to the others. ¡°Even the ones for their special infantry serfs¡ªairtight, reinforced.¡± His pulse quickened as the lock clicked open. ¡°And if I recall¡­ Bea made the modifications I asked for.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    The doors hissed apart, revealing his armor. His armor.

    Blazing red, just as it should be. But this time, complete. A helmet. An upgraded rifle. The changes stood out immediately¡ªhis laser rifle was no longer just some energy-cell junk; it was refined, proper. A rifle with a magazine, an ergonomic grip, M16-style iron sights straight out of the Vietnam era. Something real. Something built for war.

    And the helmet¡ªhis helmet. Old Martian in design, almost Germanic. A great helm, modified with jagged antlers jutting from the crown. A tabard draped his chest plate, emblazoned with the symbol of a stag. A sigil of endurance. Of dominion.

    Henryk¡¯s smile was a slow, knowing thing.

    Jace had sent Jose after him. Logan wouldn¡¯t stop. They were coming.

    Let them.

    They¡¯d all get stronger. They¡¯d all fight. They¡¯d all clash for Sirine¡¯s hand.

    But I¡¯ll be the last man standing.

    The ship lurched violently as he pulled the armor on, each piece clicking into place. It wasn¡¯t easy¡ªthe floor beneath him was shaking, the bulkheads groaning¡ªbut he managed. His rifle slung smoothly over his shoulder, his fingers slamming Gerald¡¯s plasma pistol into its holster.

    The helmet locked in with a metallic hiss.

    Somewhere behind him, Kieren¡¯s voice cut through the noise.

    ¡°Ever been educated on the significance of a knight¡¯s power armor?¡±

    Henryk turned. Isaac, Arthur, and Axel had gone still, staring. Not at him¡ªat the armor. Or maybe at the Spikes along his back, protruding, grotesque and alien.

    Humanity¡¯s closest thing to divinity. A forced symbiosis with the unnatural.

    Kieren grinned, stretching his arms wide. ¡°Not Henryk¡¯s type of armor, all grand and ceremonial. No, I mean a true knight¡¯s armor. The kind passed down for generations. Family heirlooms, centuries old. People die in them. Give their lives to them.¡± His smile widened. ¡°And then, someone else puts it on.¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± he added after a beat, still grinning. ¡°Don¡¯t know shit about that.¡±

    Arthur and the others exchanged a look.

    For a moment, they truly realized what they had brought into their ranks.

    Kieren didn¡¯t understand them. Not the way they understood themselves. He didn¡¯t see the history, the legacy, the weight of the Sons of Mars.

    He only saw power.

    Kieren stepped into his armor, piece by piece. The red glow of his helmet¡¯s eye slits burned through the dim light as he flexed his fingers, testing the gauntlets. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders beneath the heavy pauldrons.

    ¡°Fuck yeah,¡± he muttered. His grip tightened around the Nailer.

    He grinned.

    ¡°Let¡¯s kill some shit.¡±

    <u>Edward</u>

    Ed had been asleep in the cockpit, the ship on autopilot, the soft green blips of the console pulsing in the dark. His snores were deep, rattling through the cabin. A plate balanced precariously on his lap, scraps of honey-butter bread and bacon swimming in a mess of syrup.

    "Fucking dinner of champions," he mumbled in his sleep, a lazy chuckle escaping between snores. His boots were propped up on the command console, one heel dangerously close to the throttle.

    The Warcaskets universe had all manner of ships, from sleek interplanetary cruisers to clunky cargo freighters. But transport ships¡ªMartian transports, specifically¡ªwere built to carry six Warcaskets. Two to four was the standard for other planets, but Mars prided itself on overwhelming force. Each transport was a steel behemoth, armored to hell, with four automated turrets mounted across its frame.

    The screen flashed red.

    A piercing alarm split the cabin.

    Ed jolted awake, plate clattering to the floor, syrup splattering his pants. "H-Huh!?" His blanket tumbled off as he scrambled for the console, slapping buttons, eyes darting over the scanners.

    A voice blared through the comm. "Identify yourself!"

    Ed smacked the mic. "This is Edward from The Academy, House Mars Presidential Designation," he said, his voice still thick with sleep. His eyes locked onto the scanner. Neptune. Of course. The bastards hated them, but this¡ª

    "Die, Martian!"

    The transmission cut as blue Warcaskets ignited their thrusters, their silhouettes glowing against the void. A swarm of them, light to medium models, their bipedal frames trailing equivalent-blue fuel. Mass-produced Neptunian machines, armed to the teeth. Red streaks of laser fire carved through the black.

    "Shit!"

    Ed seized the controls, yanking the ship into a dive. His hands flew across the console, slamming the engine boosters. Fire burst from the thrusters as the ship rocketed toward Oceanena Prime, the hull screaming under the strain.

    "Our papers are green! They''re green!" he barked into the comm.

    "You think we¡¯re fools?" came the reply, snarled through static.

    A second voice joined in. "You''re flying Mars red, boy. You really think we¡¯re gonna let you land and aid those terrorist bastards?"

    The ship shook¡ªan explosion ripped through the aft section. The vessel lurched sideways, metal screeching, a wheel snapping free from its housing.

    Ed shielded his face as sparks rained down. He threw himself to the side, fingers fumbling to secure his helmet. A hiss of pressurization sealed it in place just as the cockpit doors slammed open.

    The Sons of Mars funneled in, their armor clanking against the floor.

    "Ed, what the hell is going on?!" Isaac shouted over the alarms.

    "They just started shooting at us!" Ed snapped, wrestling with the controls. "It¡¯s smart, honestly. They knew we were using a loophole to land. Just didn¡¯t expect them to play dirty right back." He gritted his teeth. "But opening fire? That''s a whole new low."

    Kieren snorted, crossing his arms. "Neptune''s gonna pay for this one¡­"

    "Let them," Arthur said coldly. "We have bigger problems. Like how we¡¯re going to make planetfall before this whole damn ship explodes."

    "Can¡¯t we just breach the atmosphere in our Warcaskets?" Kieren asked.

    Silence.

    Then¡ªArthur scoffed. "Are you a fool?" He shook his head. "I come from a feudal world, and even I know metal suits burn in atmospheric entry. We¡¯d be cooked inside ''em."

    Kieren frowned. "You''re telling me no one¡¯s figured out proper atmospheric entry for Warcaskets yet?"

    No one answered him.

    Ed¡¯s eyes flicked over the crew. A new problem dawned on him, colder than the void outside.

    "Where¡¯s Henryk?"

    They scanned the battlefield, their comms crackling with interference, but Ed¡¯s ears caught the one voice that made his gut twist.

    "Henryk Brown¡ªgot to blast!"

    The words rang out, laced with the raw thrill of battle. Henryk¡¯s pulse hammered as the adrenaline hit, filling his chest like fire. The ship had sealed its hangar doors, locking the void out, but he was already gone¡ªout in the black, thrusters screaming as he launched.

    His Warcasket, painted in fresh boreal camouflage, carved an arc over the transport, red fumes trailing in his wake. A hunter¡¯s silhouette against the abyss. He grinned as he drew his beam rifle, the thrusters on his calves and newly installed vanes giving him an edge in speed.

    "Can¡¯t keep up, huh?" he muttered, eyes gleaming.

    Twenty mobile suits scrambled around him¡ªsome still gunning for the descending transport, others shifting focus to the lone rogue cutting through their formation.

    Henryk fired, bolts lancing through the dark, his shots lighting up shattered debris from past battles. He soared, weaving, his mind razor-sharp as five locked onto him.

    One charged, reckless.

    Henryk didn¡¯t hesitate. He raised his rifle. Pulled the trigger.

    The pilot never had a chance. The enemy suit went up in a fireball, fragments scattering, and Henryk burst through the haze of the explosion, already drawing his father¡¯s evisceration weapon.

    A pull of the trigger. The chainsaw blade roared to life, its diamond-tipped teeth hungry.

    He drove it forward.

    The blade found the cockpit, grinding deep. The man inside screamed¡ªa raw, animal sound, his agony stretching until his comms cut to static. Henryk wrenched the weapon upward, his thrusters flaring as red laser fire streaked past him from the three still left.

    "Who the fuck is this kid?!"

    They weren¡¯t the only ones watching. Out of the twenty-four Warcaskets, every single one had seen it.

    "You four, go after them!" their commander barked.

    Too late. The hangar was open.

    And the Sons of Mars poured out.

    Red plumes flared as Warcaskets rocketed into the void, weapons blazing.

    The Neptune commander had seconds to process it before his comms filled with a different voice.

    "Got you, motherfucker."

    Isaac¡¯s smirk was the last thing the commander would ever see. He pulled the trigger on his dual tank cannons.

    The shells slammed into the Neptunian Warcasket¡ªone striking the angular, irregular frame at the neck, the other tearing through the right thigh. The suit crumpled, sparks flaring, the pilot inside screaming as the cockpit ruptured. Two more suits fell with him, caught in the blast.

    "Attack! Attack! Slaughter them, Knights of Mars!" Arthur roared, his Warcasket charging forward, sword in hand.

    "A shame we don¡¯t have true Martian Warcaskets," Isaac muttered into the radio, already reloading. He pulled the trigger again, the cannons spewing fire and death, leaving smoking wrecks in his wake.

    They all wore the same model, but Henryk¡¯s was different¡ªmodified, faster, more refined. His thrusters, mounted along his body and legs, gave him movement nothing in their fleet could match. Even his armored skirts had been reinforced to protect the sheer power behind his speed.

    His enemies saw it now.

    "Why won¡¯t you just die?!"

    The Neptunian pilot¡¯s voice was thick with his own blood, but he still fired, his lasers cutting through the void.

    Henryk only laughed, dancing through the cosmos on high-speed engines, a specter in the dark.

    Henryk dipped beneath the incoming strike, his father¡¯s blade halfway to its holster before that feeling hit him¡ªcold and sharp in the marrow of his bones.

    A flicker on his side monitor. A warning beep.

    The enemy¡¯s beam blade had scraped the side of his Warcasket¡¯s head. Superficial damage, nothing more.

    "That¡¯s all you¡¯re gonna get!" Henryk snarled.

    He yanked his father¡¯s sword free and caught the incoming strike in a vicious saber lock. Sparks flared, the cockpit shuddered with the force of the clash. His opponent pressed downward, but Henryk had already spotted the second attacker descending, rifle fire lancing toward him.

    His instincts took over. He kicked the beam blade user away, his body moving less on thought and more on something deeper¡ªmuscle memory, bloodline, ancestral connection.

    The moment his thrusters steadied, Henryk lifted his rifle.

    The red beam ripped through the enemy suit¡¯s cockpit.

    A scream crackled through the comms. Then static. Then nothing.

    "This is life or death," Henryk muttered to himself, barely hearing his own voice.

    Another suit dropped in fast, its pilot abandoning precision for desperation, discarding his rifle in favor of a mounted machine gun. Bullets chewed through space, rattling Henryk¡¯s cockpit.

    Henryk raised his laser rifle and fired. Again. Again. Again.

    His rifle screamed warnings, the barrel running hot, but he kept pulling the trigger.

    The enemy pilot jerked in his harness, his body punctured through the front. His Warcasket staggered, then went up in a bloom of fire.

    Henryk exhaled.

    "Our papers were green." His voice was quiet, but edged with something bitter, something that burned.

    "This was about hate."

    His grip tightened around the rifle.

    "If you had just let us go. If you had just respected the fragile laws of warfare¡­ maybe, just maybe, you would¡¯ve lived through this."

    His words hung in the air, unanswered.

    His mind drifted¡ªJose.

    Henryk clenched his teeth and shook the thought away. Why him? Why was he the one haunting him? He should be focusing on the fight, not on ghosts.

    No matter. Jose was a problem for later.

    For now, there was only the battlefield. Only the bodies.

    And the growing mountain of corpses he was building alongside Piper and the others.

    Who knew whose mountain would be taller by the time they graduated¡ª

    ¡ªif they even lived that long?

    <u>Piper</u>

    "Ensign, slow down!"

    The warning came through the comms, clipped with urgency, but Piper barely heard it over the roar of her Warcasket¡¯s engines. The moment she gripped the controls, she felt it¡ªthat raw, electrifying connection, like the machine was alive beneath her hands.

    Her Martian-built Warcasket had been reforged for speed, its massive blade replaced with a searing laser sword now mounted along her backpack. The mono-eye still glowed menacingly, but the frame had been altered¡ªstub arms mounted along its spine, two extra shields fitted to each elbow. They whirred and adjusted in real-time, tracking her every movement, a living extension of her will.

    She clicked the neural link into place, and the world expanded.

    The battle blazed in the distance, red and blue streaks flashing like falling stars. Thrusters hummed, engines ignited, and a wild grin spread across her face.

    "This is Ensign Piper, ready for takeoff!"

    She punched the throttle.

    The Warcasket launched, tearing free of the hangar with such force that her restraints strained against her suit. Behind her, the squadron followed, their own thrusters igniting, but they were already lagging. She was too fast.

    The twin propellant tanks strapped to her Warcasket¡¯s back burned bright, spewing raw acceleration. Additional boosters flared across her armor, sending her into a rapid spiral through the void. Her shields were more than defensive¡ªthey were weapons, each one mounted with high-powered laser rifles. But the real monsters were in her hands: two rocket launchers, primed and ready, loaded to tear through anything in her path.

    Asteroids loomed ahead, an uncharted minefield of jagged rock and shattered debris from past battles. Piper dove headlong into it.

    "Five minutes, Ensign," Jesus¡¯s voice crackled through the comms.

    "Trust me. I know."

    She shut off the radio. The chatter was just noise.

    One asteroid spun toward her, massive as a warship. She twisted her Warcasket¡¯s frame, kicking the thrusters into an angled dive. The machine responded instantly, flipping belly-up as she rocketed along the asteroid¡¯s underbelly, barely skimming past its surface. A gap barely wider than her Warcasket¡¯s shoulders loomed ahead¡ªshe tilted sideways, cutting through it at a breakneck pace.

    Behind her, the squadron scrambled to keep up.

    "Ensign Piper, you''re breaking formation¡ªthis is a prototype, you can¡¯t¡ª"

    "That¡¯s what we get for following an ace," another pilot muttered, voice half in awe, half in frustration.

    Piper just grinned wider.

    A final burst of acceleration sent her blazing into open space, straight toward the battlefield.

    The fight was already unfolding ahead¡ªHenryk and his brethren locked in vicious combat, the chaos of laser fire and thruster burns painting the void in streaks of red and gold.

    And Piper was about to drop into the thick of it.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    ¡°Fall back, you guys are doing enough!¡± Ed¡¯s voice crackled through the comms, sharp and urgent. Henryk could hear it, feel it deep in his gut, the sweat trickling down his back. There wasn¡¯t time to respond.

    His monitor buzzed, and three Neptunian war machines barreled toward him. ¡°Shit¡­¡± Henryk muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw tight enough to taste metal.

    Then came that laugh. That mocking laugh.

    ¡°Can¡¯t handle yourself, hick?¡± Kieren¡¯s voice sliced through the static like a blade. Henryk¡¯s eyes narrowed, a fire burning within him. The audacity.

    His teeth ground together, hard enough to draw blood. As Kieren lay bleeding out on that table, Henryk¡¯s thoughts were a whirlwind. Arthur didn¡¯t care, but it was he and the others who had fought with humanity¡¯s last shred of decency. Yet Kieren? He was still a dick. Always would be.

    ¡°These warcaskets are awesome!¡± Kieren shouted over the comm, his voice buzzing with enthusiasm as he zipped through the chaos, machine gun crackling in the air.

    Arthur¡¯s voice came through, steady and commanding, like it always did. ¡°Hold fast and steady, Squire Kieren.¡± His beam rifle cut through the air, rending and splitting Neptunian armor, sending the pieces scattering into the void. ¡°Damn, for women, they really know how to cook up some firepower, don¡¯t they?¡± He grinned, bloodlust painting his voice.

    ¡°Women... men,¡± Isaac sneered, his gaze flicking over to Henryk. ¡°Trust me, Arthur. There are far more worlds stuck in the 21st century than you realize. Women are inhabiting the battlefield more and more, whether it¡¯s through warcaskets or... like the witches of Jupiter. Arcane means.¡± His eyes glinted with something Henryk couldn¡¯t quite place.

    ¡°Everyone, get on!¡± Ed shouted, his voice pulling Henryk from the moment.

    The others started to fall back, retreating to the transport. As Axel¡¯s warcasket was hoisted up by crane-like appendages, he shouted, ¡°Where the hell is Henryk?¡± The question hung in the air, unanswered.

    Arthur looked stunned. The realization hit them at once.

    Outside, Henryk fought, pushing his warcasket against the tide. His aim was shaky, heart pounding in his chest, but the feeling¡­ it zapped him, sharp, like an electric current running straight through his brain. He hit the thrusters, trying to escape, but then¡ªCrash!

    His face slammed into the console. If he hadn¡¯t been in his knight gear, the glass would¡¯ve shattered all over him. It would¡¯ve gone straight into his eyes, and that could¡¯ve been the end. But the Sons of Mars had thought of that too. Power armor. He smiled through the pain as he rammed his elbow into the Neptunian warcasket gripping him, denting and crushing the metal.

    ¡°I will not be denied my fief!¡± he shouted, his voice echoing with the weight of a thousand knights who had fought before him. The words weren¡¯t just his¡ªthey were theirs too.

    But then¡ª

    ¡°You fools!¡± he roared, his voice wild, filled with fury.

    Laughter crackled over the comms, shrill and unrepentant.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got nearly all of us!¡± a voice shouted. Henryk could hear the rage in their words, the madness, the bloodlust. Some of them had lost limbs, but they still held their beam rifles steady, pointing at him from a distance, while the other mobile suits desperately clawed at him. He was stuck. Couldn¡¯t reach the transport. Couldn¡¯t escape.

    ¡°Damn, this is bad¡­¡± Henryk muttered to himself, barely enough breath in his lungs.

    Then, his eyes widened.

    Red afterburners ripped through the darkness, brighter and faster than anything he had ever seen. It wasn¡¯t just movement¡ªit was a force of nature. A comet blazing through the void. And then... it bloomed. Like a flower, opening to reveal its deadly intent.

    Henryk¡¯s enhanced senses flared, picking up every nuance, every shift in the air. The mobile suit was strange¡ªalmost alien¡ªits design unlike anything he had ever seen. A mono-eye, zipping and darting around like a predator. The suit was bipedal, but it had three stubby arms, each one balancing shields at the elbows and spine. But what caught Henryk¡¯s attention were the weapons¡ªtwo massive laser cannons, concealed under the shields. The vents on the cannons glowed, heated up as the barrels pulsed with scorching energy.

    A Neptunian warcasket came barreling toward him, thrusters flaring, a death charge aimed straight for Henryk.

    ¡°Die!¡± the pilot screamed over the comm, but before Henryk could react, the laser cannons fired.

    Four beams tore through the Neptunian warcasket, disintegrating it in an instant. A second later, it was nothing but slag.

    ¡°Clarkson!¡± Henryk could hear the voice crackle through the comm, a mix of shock and anger.

    ¡°You¡¯re dead!¡± Another voice shouted, but they were already retreating. The tide was turning.

    Henryk¡¯s heart was still racing, but the danger wasn¡¯t over. As the others advanced toward the Martian transport, he flung his elbow out again, trying to clear the path. But the Neptunian soldiers were relentless, and he drifted further away from the safety of the ship.

    <u>Edward</u>

    ¡°Henryk, report,¡± Edward¡¯s voice came through the comm, firm, authoritative, but there was an edge of something deeper¡ªconcern. His features tightened, brow furrowed. ¡°Henryk Brown, report!¡± he barked, a vein twitching in his temple as his eyes flicked to the side. The damage to the transport was substantial, but that could be handled. What mattered now was clearing the landing. That was the priority.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the countryman?¡± Arthur asked, his voice low, eyes narrowing as he and the Sons of Mars breached the door that separated the hangar from the main pilot bay.

    Ed¡¯s gaze swept over them. Kieren was unnervingly quiet, brooding, but it was Isaac, Arthur, and Axel who seemed to carry the weight of the moment, their faces unreadable yet intense.

    ¡°Are we gonna be able to grab him?¡± Axel¡¯s voice broke through the silence, anxious and tense.

    Ed kept his eyes forward, focused. He pressed the rockets harder, maneuvering in a tight arc. ¡°If we keep veering like this, we¡¯re gonna get ripped apart in the atmosphere¡­¡± His voice trailed off, the words a grim warning.

    ¡°What¡¯s got him like this?¡± Axel pressed, frustration lacing his voice.

    ¡°Maybe battle lust?¡± Arthur suggested, his tone more casual than the situation warranted. He chuckled darkly. ¡°He¡¯s sure got the manner of a Martian to him.¡±

    Isaac sneered, his lips curling in disgust. ¡°Enough fooling around!¡± he snapped. ¡°That Warcasket¡¯s got Henryk in a death grip!¡±

    The words hung in the air like a death sentence. All eyes turned to the screen. Ed enlarged the image, the view pulling them into the cold expanse of space. There, Henryk¡¯s Warcasket was thrashing, struggling against the Neptunian Warcasket that was locked onto it with deadly intent.

    Henryk swung his evisceration weapon, trying to shake the Neptunian off, but the maneuver did little. The Neptunian pilot activated their back thrusters, slamming them both forward, their trajectory bending toward the atmosphere.

    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± Isaac cursed, his eyes wide in disbelief. ¡°Holy shit, is he really gonna kill Henryk with himself?¡±

    ¡°Damn suicidal bastard,¡± Arthur muttered, his voice thick with disdain. ¡°Didn¡¯t even know the Neptunians had it in them. My father thought they were all cowards.¡±

    Ed¡¯s lips curled into a bitter sneer. ¡°A lot¡¯s changed since the fall of Mars¡­¡±

    Axel¡¯s face twisted with determination, eyes blazing with anger and something darker. ¡°I¡¯m going out there,¡± he declared, his voice hard, resolute.

    Ed snapped his head toward him, voice sharp as a whip. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he warned.

    Axel¡¯s expression darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. ¡°What the hell are you talking about? That¡¯s Henryk out there!¡± His voice surged, frantic, filled with a desperation that grabbed hold of everyone in the room. ¡°It¡¯s one thing to die in battle, but Henryk¡¯s gonna burn to death¡­ like that!¡± He pointed violently to the enlarged image on the screen, his voice cracking with the weight of it.

    Axel¡¯s gaze followed the screen, eyes locked onto Henryk¡¯s Warcasket as it struggled against its foe. His mind flashed with images¡ªfires, screams, the voices of his uncles and aunts. It was too much, and he shook his head, trying to shake off the weight of it. But Ed¡¯s yell cut through his thoughts like a blade.

    ¡°Axel, don¡¯t!¡± Ed¡¯s voice cracked through the air, raw with emotion, forcing all eyes to turn toward him. The room fell silent.

    Ed stood rigid, every ounce of his being focused on the words he was about to say. ¡°Henryk is going to burn out there. You go out now, your Warcasket is gonna get swallowed up by reentry. You¡¯ll die trying to save him. Henryk¡¯s already doomed.¡±

    The room was still, each man frozen in place, his breath hanging heavy in the air. The tension was thick, suffocating.

    ¡°So, that¡¯s it?¡± Arthur¡¯s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. ¡°We¡¯re just gonna¡­¡±

    ¡°Fuck that!¡± Isaac spat, his voice like thunder, cracking the silence. His gaze locked onto Ed, fire in his eyes. ¡°I won¡¯t lose a man, not on this mission, not like this!¡± His hands trembled at his sides, barely contained rage.

    Ed¡¯s face went cold, his expression hardening. ¡°Isaac, out of everyone¡­ I am Henryk¡¯s friend, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you were truly his friend, you wouldn¡¯t be stopping us,¡± Axel shot back, his words sharp as daggers. ¡°There¡¯s still time. There¡¯s still time¡­¡± His voice was frantic now, pleading, laced with the cold sweat of fear and urgency.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    "Fuck¡­ fuck," Henryk''s breath came in ragged gasps, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The world outside his cockpit was a blur, flames licking at the edges of his view. The Neptunian Warcasket had wrapped its limbs around his like a vice, its thrusters roaring as the two suits plummeted toward the atmosphere in a freefall that seemed to stretch forever.

    The cockpit hissed and groaned as pressure mounted, the entire machine screeching in protest as if it too felt the inevitability of the descent. Henryk¡¯s eyes darted to his fuel gauge¡ªnearly empty. His stomach twisted. He was running on fumes.

    "Damn you!" Henryk roared, the words a guttural promise as his hands slammed down on the controls. He ignited the rockets¡ªfull blast.

    The air around them exploded into a sea of fire as the Neptunian suit writhed in agony, thrusters spitting molten fuel, the pilot¡¯s frantic screams swallowed by the chaos of the moment. Henryk¡¯s Warcasket bucked and shuddered as it surged forward, propelling both suits into a violent, scorching tailspin toward the planet below.

    The Neptunian¡¯s arms locked tighter around him, the crushing weight threatening to break him in two. But Henryk wasn¡¯t going down like this¡ªnot today.

    His fingers went white on the controls. He hit the thrusters again. The fire from the rockets surged outward like a firestorm, scorching the Neptunian¡¯s cockpit, turning the suit¡¯s metal into a molten mess. But the bastard wouldn¡¯t let go.

    "Die!" the Neptunian pilot screamed, voice distorted and alien as his Warcasket clawed at Henryk, thrusters firing wildly as they crashed into the atmosphere. The air screamed like a banshee, buffeting them, tearing at the suits as they fought to hold on.

    Henryk snarled, teeth gritted. ¡°Not today¡­¡±

    With a deafening roar, Henryk flung his Warcasket into a rapid spin, wrenching free from the Neptunian¡¯s grip. Heat and fire boiled up around him as the war machine twisted in a deadly dance, two titans in freefall. He brought his suit back to bear, face-to-face with the Neptunian, and pulled the trigger on his laser rifle.

    A violent burst of energy slammed into the Neptunian''s chest, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The suit kept coming, a machine possessed by rage.

    Without thinking, Henryk discarded the rifle, drawing his father¡¯s evisceration weapon. The chains along its length rattled as he gripped it with both hands, the heavy blade crackling with power as it hummed to life.

    "Come forth and be¡­ SLAUGHTERED!" His voice was an animal¡¯s roar, primal and commanding. The words twisted in the air around him, charged with ancestral power. The war cries of a thousand warriors, their blood and fury coursing through his veins.

    The Neptunian pilot froze, the weapon¡¯s intense energy coursing through the air like a storm as Henryk swung the blade with all his might.

    The blade collided with the Neptunian¡¯s Warcasket with a thunderous crash. Sparks flew in all directions as the suit¡¯s arm was cleaved clean off. It flung through the air, burning through the atmosphere as the body of the Neptunian suit spiraled into freefall.

    And Henryk? He wasn¡¯t done.

    With a final scream of rage, he lunged, bringing the massive weapon down in a deadly arc. The blade cleaved through the Neptunian¡¯s suit like butter, rending the machine in two. The explosion that followed lit up the atmosphere with blinding force. The Neptunian Warcasket collapsed in on itself, a fiery heap of scrap that scattered into the winds of the planet¡¯s gravity.

    Henryk¡¯s Warcasket plummeted downward, out of control, burning through the sky like a comet. His suit rattled, the air outside a thick, violent wave of heat and destruction. He looked at his fuel gauge one last time¡ªit was empty.

    Then, a voice crackled over the comms, piercing the deafening roar around him.

    "I''ve got you, Henryk Brown!" Piper¡¯s voice¡ªstrong, unwavering¡ªcut through the chaos like a lifeline.

    ¡°Piper¡­?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice was hoarse, breathless. His warcasket spiraled in freefall, the molten glow of atmospheric descent licking at its hull. And then she came, roaring through the fire and debris like a red comet, her warcasket¡¯s engines howling like banshees.

    ¡°Take my hand, right now!¡± Piper¡¯s voice cracked through the comms, sharp, commanding.

    She thrust out her warcasket¡¯s arm, fingers extended, and Henryk forced his battered machine to comply. Their metal fingers locked, servos whining under the pressure.

    ¡°Hop on my back!¡± she barked.

    Henryk ignited his remaining thrusters, swinging around as Piper¡¯s warcasket shifted. The stub arms, once idle, snapped into motion¡ªmechanized rivets twisting, transforming. Protective wings, concealed within the design, folded outward and began to wrap around him.

    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± Henryk grunted, gripping his controls.

    Piper let out a breathless chuckle, the kind that carried more relief than humor. ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting to see you guys so far out.¡±

    Henryk coughed a laugh. ¡°Man, I am glad to see you, Piper, but what¡ª¡±

    ¡°Relax,¡± she cut him off, her voice steady despite the blood trickling from her nose. The strain of the maneuver, the sheer force of their speed, was already pushing her to the limit.

    Her fingers clenched a lever in her cockpit. A deep exhale. ¡°A minute, huh¡­¡± she muttered under her breath. The machine around Henryk shifted again.

    ¡°Grip the beam blades! They function as handlebars!¡±

    Henryk hesitated for only a second before locking onto the glowing hilts. The moment his hands secured them, Piper¡¯s warcasket sealed him in. Arms and legs folded, shields raised¡ªtransforming. A protective exoshell formed around him as the rockets flared white-hot and screamed downward. The world blurred, fire and pressure wrapping around them as they tore into the atmosphere.

    Through the slits of his makeshift cocoon, Henryk could see nothing but orange¡ªsearing, consuming. Yet somehow, it reminded him of Piper¡¯s hair, that untamed wildness.

    And then he heard her laughter, rich and unafraid, cutting through the static.

    He smiled. Actually smiled.

    ¡°This warcasket is built for atmospheric reentry,¡± Piper declared.

    Henryk¡¯s heart thudded. ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Henryk,¡± she shot back. ¡°Let me show you how I fly.¡±

    The firestorm gave way to blackened clouds, the howling winds cooling into a downpour. Rain streaked across their warcaskets as they plummeted. The world opened beneath them, vast and chaotic.

    Then came the flashes. The orange of anti-air fire. The green glow of burning forests. Black smoke choking the horizon.

    Henryk¡¯s stomach twisted. War was shifting, evolving into something else, something monstrous.

    And he was in the center of it all.

    Then¡ª

    A chunk of debris, still burning from reentry, clipped his warcasket. The impact jolted him, hard enough to shake his grip. His father¡¯s sword, strapped to his machine¡¯s gauntlet, broke free.

    Henryk watched as it spun, end over end, glinting in the fading firelight, a fleeting piece of history tumbling toward the war-torn surface.

    Toward the falling Sons of Mars transport vessel below.

 Chapter 15 - Nothing but Darkness

    Chapter 15 - Nothing but Darkness

    <hr>

    This world was nothing like the great sprawl of Oceana II. No towering arcologies stretching into the heavens, no neon glow of civilization pulsing beneath the night sky. It was a forgotten rock wedged between the minor moons of Oceana II and III, far enough to avoid the pull of their gravity, yet close enough that, when the red sun crested the horizon, it could almost take your breath away.

    Almost.

    Two young men stood atop an ancient stone tower, weathered by time and war, its surface veined with ivy and rot. They were soldiers, though barely more than boys, clad in patchwork armor¡ªplated limbs, a reinforced breastplate, and helmets slung around their necks. Their rifles, a mix of old-world steel and modern energy, hung heavy in their grips.

    The taller of the two, lanky and hollow-eyed, held a Stubmaker¡ªan old plasma rifle, its orange core dull with overuse. The shorter one bore a radio assembly on his back, a relic of a time when communications still meant something. His helmet, a Crusader¡¯s bucket helm, had seen no modification in centuries. The world had moved forward. He had not.

    Luis Lopez flicked his visor down, staring at the sky.

    The heavens wept fire.

    Comets of wreckage rained down in molten streaks, the broken husks of dead Warcaskets incinerated in reentry. Slag and ash scattered over the battlefield, mingling with the black sand below. But it was the larger shape¡ªa massive, burning wreck¡ªthat held their gaze, cleaving through the atmosphere, leaving a searing white trail in its wake.

    Chunks of metal spun loose, falling faster than the eye could follow.

    ¡°Shit,¡± the taller one muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle.

    Beyond the descending wreckage, anti-air emplacements roared to life, belching flak and laser fire into the sky. The battlefield below was already a maelstrom¡ªbombers screamed overhead, dropping payloads into the trenches where men fought and died, their screams lost beneath the thunder of explosions.

    ¡°Jamie?¡± Luis¡¯s voice crackled from beneath his visor, his hand hovering over his radio.

    They could see it all from here. The trenches stretched like open wounds through the blackened mud, men swarming within them like insects, their bodies caked in soot and gore. The treads of Martian Heavy Nailers churned through the sludge, firing bursts of lethal metal into the charging Neptunian ranks. The enemy came in waves, faceless beneath their helmets, bayonets glinting as they vaulted over their dead.

    It was trench warfare at its purest. Machine-gun fire ripping bodies apart, mud swallowing the wounded, the stink of burning oil and flesh thick enough to choke a man.

    Not a true Martian Warcasket in sight. If there had been, the battle would already be over.

    ¡°Who¡¯s colors are they?¡± Jamie¡¯s voice cut through the din, his sharp eyes locked on the descending wreck.

    Luis turned his head. Beyond the burning transport, a second shape was falling¡ªsmaller, controlled. An escape vessel? A lone pilot?

    Jamie¡¯s patience snapped. ¡°Luis! What colors are they?¡±

    Luis didn¡¯t answer. Not at first. His fingers twisted the dials of his radio, his mind racing with encryption codes and callsigns. If it was friendly, they had to send word to the Fortress before anti-air cut them down with the rest of the Neptunian filth.

    Then, he saw it.

    The transport ship, still flaming from its descent, emerged from the haze of battle. The bronze of its hull was scorched and stripped, its insignia nearly lost in the wreckage. And yet¡ª

    Its hangar bay doors were opening.

    Luis watched, breathless, as the Warcaskets within were revealed. Their forms dark against the firestorm, their weapons gleaming.

    A grin split his face beneath the visor.

    ¡°Fear not, Jamie,¡± Luis murmured. ¡°The fight has turned.¡±

    Jamie frowned. ¡°The hell are you talking about?¡±

    Luis exhaled, gripping his rifle tighter as the Martian machines dropped from the transport, their thrusters flaring as they accelerated towards the Neptunian flank.

    ¡°The Academy,¡± Luis said, voice brimming with something almost like reverence. ¡°The Sons of Mars. They still hunt.¡±

    He turned, already tuning his radio. ¡°Tell the Fortress to hold their fire. The battle won¡¯t last much longer.¡±

    Because the hunters had arrived.

    And the killing was about to begin.

    <u>Piper</u>

    Piper¡¯s head lolled forward, her body heavy, her eyelids like lead. Even the cold, mechanical precision of her cybernetic eye did nothing to keep her awake. The buzzing in her skull was a low, ceaseless drone, like a failing power coil. She had ripped the neural link from her socket before reentry, severing the feedback loop, but the damage had already been done.

    A voice crackled in her comms. Desperate.

    ¡°Piper! Are you okay?¡± Henryk¡¯s voice, sharp with panic. ¡°Piper, you¡¯ve been silent for the last couple minutes. Please, please¡ª¡±

    A ghost of a smirk played at her lips. ¡°You¡¯re really begging for me, huh?¡± she murmured, half-conscious. But then her mind snapped into focus, her breath hitching. Henryk wasn¡¯t joking. His voice had the kind of raw, ragged edge that came only from real fear.

    They weren¡¯t in space anymore. That deep, endless abyss was gone, peeled away into the blues and greens of Oceana.

    Below them, jungle-pines stretched for miles, their dark, spindly limbs draped in hanging leaves, clinging to sheer cliffs that knifed through the mist. Mountains, rolling like the backs of sleeping giants, converged into the distance. But that wasn¡¯t what drew her attention.

    It was the structure.

    A monolith of metal and concrete buried within the jungle, its surface bristling with antennas, gun emplacements, and industrial towers belching out smoke. Like a fortress. No, not a fortress.

    A base.

    Henryk¡¯s voice was a thin whisper. ¡°W-what is that?¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes flicked to her display as she fished out a rag, dabbing at the blood trickling from her nose. She could feel the sluggish pulse behind her eye, the telltale headache creeping in. Something was wrong with her, but that wasn¡¯t the priority. Right now, she and Henryk were still alive.

    And that alone was a goddamn miracle.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d know,¡± she muttered, eyes locked on the screen. ¡°So this is where the rebels have been hiding.¡±

    She tightened her grip on the controls. Before, the Warcasket had moved almost entirely through thought-link. Now, without the neural interface, her hands had to do the work. Fingers zipped across the console, bringing up a diagnostic.

    ¡°This Warcasket¡¯s glide mod is solid, but in this state, I won¡¯t be able to transform back,¡± she muttered, biting her lip. ¡°I can crash it and disengage safely, though.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s head snapped to her. ¡°Wait, this thing can transform?¡±

    Piper tapped a finger against her cheek, feigning innocence. ¡°W-well¡­ sort of?¡± she admitted. ¡°It¡¯s nothing fancy. I kind of folded you into a box and now we¡¯re gliding thanks to the aerodynamics of my shields.¡±

    Henryk didn¡¯t respond. He was staring out through the slits of his visor, watching the sky come alive.

    From the ruined transport, figures were dropping¡ªWarriors.

    ¡°They¡¯re jumping¡­¡± he breathed.

    Piper looked too. Henryk¡¯s friends¡ªArthur, Axel, the others¡ªhad launched from the shuttle, free-falling through the atmosphere, cutting through the clouds like spearheads. The telltale flare of thrusters ignited beneath them, stabilizing their descent, parachutes coiling along their backs.

    Piper let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. That¡¯s crazy.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Arthur and Axel¡ª¡± His voice caught. ¡°They¡¯ve got their Full Armored Variants. They¡¯re complete?¡±

    Below them, the battle raged.

    The dark sky crackled with muzzle flashes and streaking missile trails. Explosions rippled through the valley, trees splintering under the force, the land scarred by fire and war. The conflict had splintered into two forces¡ªThe Sons of Mars carving through one flank, while the rebels surged from the other.

    Henryk gritted his teeth. ¡°So you can¡¯t drop me off? I can¡¯t join them?¡±

    Piper exhaled sharply. ¡°I get that you want to help, but if I drop you now, we¡¯re both free-falling. The suit can¡¯t handle it.¡±

    ¡°Damn it,¡± Henryk growled, slamming a fist against the side of the Warcasket.

    Piper didn¡¯t argue. She could see the fight unfolding below¡ªthe chaos, the death, the hell of it all. Henryk wasn¡¯t a man who could just watch. But neither of them had a choice.

    The trees and mountains loomed closer, swallowing them in their shadow.

    "Hold on!"

    Piper¡¯s voice filled Henryk¡¯s ears, barely cutting through the deafening howl of wind and the violent snap of branches breaking against metal. The Warcasket hurtled downward, punching through the canopy like a meteor, sending shattered wood and torn leaves spiraling in every direction. The sky above had vanished, swallowed by towering jungle-pines, their dark, drooping leaves a curtain over the wilderness below.

    ¡°It¡¯s gonna be a hard landing,¡± Piper shouted over the chaos, hands locked onto the controls. ¡°But this thing¡¯s built like a goddamn brick!¡±

    And she was laughing¡ªgiddy, breathless, running high on adrenaline like this was some kind of joyride instead of a freefall into the unknown.

    Henryk barely registered his own laugh slipping out, breathless and wild. His heart was pounding, his body weightless between the jarring hits of branches and the gut-wrenching drops¡ªbut somehow, he wasn¡¯t afraid.

    They weren¡¯t crashing into the battlefield. That firestorm of war, the hell of gunmetal and burning trees, was miles behind them. They were descending into something else¡ªsomething untouched, something ancient.

    The jungle stretched in every direction, an ocean of green rolling over hills and cliffs, waterfalls cutting silver veins through the dense foliage. This place had never known the weight of treads, the stomp of boots, the scream of war. It was alive in a way the battlefield wasn¡¯t, whispering in rustling leaves and distant, unseen things moving in the underbrush.

    He turned to Piper¡ªand for the first time, really looked at her.

    Her red hair, wild and tangled in the glow of the cockpit. The streak of blood at her nose, wiped away but still faint against her skin. The way her eyes, sharp and burning, stayed fixed on the controls, fearless, steady¡ªlike she was born for this.

    And somehow, despite the chaos, the shaking metal, the way the Warcasket screamed against gravity¡ªHenryk felt a strange, inexplicable calm.

    Because he was thinking about her.

    Not about death, or fire, or the battlefield behind them.

    Just her.

    The ground surged up to meet them. The Warcasket slammed through the last of the trees, metal shrieking, dirt and stone exploding in a violent spray. Then¡ªimpact. A jarring, world-ending crash as they skidded, carved a trench into the earth, and finally¡ªfinally¡ªcame to a stop, metal hissing, the jungle settling into uneasy silence around them.

    Henryk let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding.

    Piper groaned, stretching her arms, grinning like a maniac.

    "Now that," she said, breathless, "was a landing."

    And Henryk just shook his head, a smirk pulling at his lips.

    Yeah. Maybe it was.

    <u>Edward</u>

    "I can still gear this thing into¡­"

    "More like turn this thing into a crash landing," Issac¡¯s voice crackled through Edward¡¯s comms, laced with urgency. "Get the hell out of there before the whole damn thing blows up."

    "The internals on this thing are holding up," Ed¡¯s voice came back, steady but strained. "This is a Martian transport. We lose something like this, we ain¡¯t gonna get it back¡­"

    "Here we go, the Sire making these sorts of decisions," Arthur¡¯s voice, dry with sarcasm, cut through the tension.

    "These?" Ed chuckled, though it was hollow. "You always surprise me with that sense of humor."

    Axel¡¯s sigh crackled in their comms, audible even through the distortion. Ed could hear the heavy doors of the Warcaskets opening in the background, the whir of hydraulics as the machines prepared for launch. "Just get out of there before the whole thing¡ª"

    Axel¡¯s voice was swallowed by a violent explosion that rattled the vessel, the sound like thunder tearing through the hull. This wasn¡¯t a blast from any laser or anti-airfire¡ªit was something worse. The internal systems were failing, and the ship was coming apart from within.

    Wordlessly, Ed threw himself into his seat, the straps biting into him as he clicked the seatbelt into place. The ship lurched violently to the side, spinning in a harsh, disorienting dip that threatened to throw him out. He clenched his teeth as he steadied himself, hands gripping the arms of the seat as his body fought the overwhelming forces.

    "See," Ed muttered, trying to keep his composure, his voice shaking. "A rough landing, but a landing¡¯s still a¡ª" Another explosion ripped through the ship, the force sending him into the side of his harness. He screamed as the ship¡¯s descent accelerated, the ground rushing up to meet them.

    "Woah¡­ keep this fucking thing steady!" Issac shouted from the other side of the hangar. The sound of thrusters firing echoed through the comms as Issac and the others were ejected from the shuttle, hurtling into the grey sky.

    Arthur¡¯s eyes, wide with an almost surreal calm, flicked past the chaos. His gaze caught the weapon cache hanging above them, tethered to the ship¡¯s crane. Crates were stacked high, ready to be deployed. The harsh clang of metal scraping echoed from the empty space.

    "We¡¯ve got everything assembled, Kieren," Arthur called out, his voice tinged with the gravity of the moment. "This is your first real engagement¡ªsave for the simulations."

    Kieren swallowed hard, the lump in his throat a cold stone. He had no words, only the sinking weight of terror that gripped his gut.

    "Kieren!" Arthur barked, his voice snapping like a whip. "Damn it, my boy, the Neptunians desire honorable combat. So, they shall have it! Are you ready?"

    Kieren didn¡¯t speak. He merely froze, terror locking his body in place, the dampness spreading under his suit. Arthur¡¯s sneer deepened as his eyes flicked to the empty seat where Henryk should have been. The boy wasn¡¯t here¡ªanother one had replaced him. A fresh face. A green one. Why couldn¡¯t they have taken someone like Henryk? Someone they could trust in the heat of battle?

    Arthur¡¯s eyes wandered to the empty spot on the wall¡ªthe sword. Henryk¡¯s father¡¯s blade. He reached for it, his fingers brushing the hilt.

    "Edward," Arthur muttered, a tinge of disbelief creeping into his voice. "He left it behind?"

    Ed¡¯s voice crackled through the haze of static. "W-what are you talking about?" His frustration was palpable. "Grab the damn thing and get out of there now!" He yelled. The urgency in his voice cut through the static.

    Arthur didn¡¯t hesitate. He tapped the side of his cockpit, the controls glowing under his fingers as the crane above them moved. The massive, evisceration weapon¡ªHenryk¡¯s father¡¯s blade¡ªwas locked into place on Arthur¡¯s back. The sharp metallic click echoed through the hangar as explosions rocked the vessel, but it was still there. Secure.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "Everyone configured!" Ed¡¯s voice came through again, sharp and commanding. "Everyone equipped! If this thing¡¯s going to blow, damn it, take everything you can carry. We¡¯re going to need it. Nothing can go to waste!"

    The order was clear. There was no room for hesitation.

    And then, they were launched, shot out into the grey sky, their bodies weightless for a moment before the harsh pull of gravity took hold. They were armed to the teeth¡ªeach carrying anti-warship weapons, heavy and cumbersome, but necessary for what was to come. Arthur and Issac, fully kitted out, bore the weight of tank cannons and missile compartments, their silhouettes outlined against the blood-red sun.

    The rest had the standard Martian MP-01s. The weight was a burden, but one they carried without question.

    They fell. And fell. The landscape below them swallowed them whole, the distant rumble of war already unfolding below as they plummeted toward the unknown.

    "Who was that?" Axel¡¯s voice rang out through the comms, a question hanging in the air like a knife. "The one that saved Henryk and backed us up?"

    Ed sighed, the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling echoing over the radio. "That person was flashing Mercurian colors," he muttered, his voice tight as he moved toward the escape pod. You could almost hear the weight of his words. "One of the reasons we came through here instead of one of the planets¡¯ main cities is because the Neptunians would shoot us on sight. We needed to go to Mercurian-controlled territory."

    Isaac sneered, his eyes fixed on the expanse below them. The battlefield stretched out beneath them, a savage landscape of fire, smoke, and crumbling earth. He took a shaky breath, pulling a flask from his pocket, uncorking it with a sharp hiss. He tossed his head back, swallowing a mouthful of liquor that burned all the way down. "Fuck clearance¡­ we could¡¯ve got this shit done," he growled, shaking his head as he lowered the flask.

    Axel¡¯s voice dragged through the comms, rough and drained. "¡­and got shot to hell."

    Isaac snickered, his grin wild. "¡­Still happened, didn¡¯t it?"

    Axel rubbed his hands over his face, frustration tightening his jaw. He tugged at his white hair, pulling it in frustration. "What¡¯s got you agitated?"

    "Honorable combat is something to be applauded," Arthur¡¯s voice came, carrying a weight that hung heavy in the air. He was calm, almost too calm.

    "Battlefield jitters," Isaac muttered, his voice thick with irony. "Even after so many, it still gets to me. But you¡¯ve still gotta fight. Even now."

    Kieren was silent, as still as the mountain that towered over the battlefield. His mech lumbered forward, its movements slow and measured. The others noticed the silence, the boy too still for the chaos around him.

    "Kieren," Axel¡¯s voice softened. "Don¡¯t be afraid to hold back. This is your first time. We understand you¡¯ve just received your spikes. Don¡¯t overexert yourself. Don¡¯t get yourself killed."

    Then it happened. The ground beneath them blurred into a wild smear as the world tilted and began to plummet. Their mobile suits dropped like stones, hurtling toward the earth at breakneck speed. The sheer velocity rattled their bodies, the ground growing closer, the distant sounds of battle echoing from below.

    They were coming in hot.

    Parachutes deployed with a mechanical roar, unfurling like massive white wings as their thrusters fired in tandem. The suits leveled out, but the descent remained bone-jarring. The air screamed around them, the wind a deafening howl that pressed against their bodies. They screamed in exhilaration, or perhaps terror¡ªthere was no time to tell the difference.

    The earth raced toward them in a dizzying blur. Small figures, men no bigger than ants, scattered below, fleeing from the impending impact of the massive Warcaskets. The sight of the giant metal giants coming down was enough to send ripples of panic through the enemy lines. They clung to cover, shouting, scattering like rats.

    But Arthur¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, firm and commanding. "Rest easy, Martians," he bellowed, the words amplified through the comms. His mech landed with a deafening crash, shaking the ground beneath them. The massive stone fortress behind him erupted in a hail of anti-air fire, mortar explosions, and machine gun fire¡ªan unholy symphony of destruction. The sky darkened as the air thickened with the stench of gunpowder and fire.

    "The Knights of Mars have come!" Arthur shouted, raising his twin beam rifles high, the barrels gleaming under the light of the dying sun. He fired¡ªa single, violent shot¡ªand the purple beam sliced through the air, striking the trench below with a violent explosion. Men screamed as they were caught in the blast, their bodies disintegrating, reduced to nothing but ash in the blink of an eye.

    "Come forth and be slaughtered!" Arthur howled, his voice filled with bloodlust. His mech¡¯s cannons roared as they tore through the earth, laying waste to the enemy infantry. "Gentlemen, the enemy desires honorable combat, and they shall have it!"

    But Isaac¡¯s voice was a razor, sharp with defiance. "Like hell you are." His hands flew over his console, clicking a sequence of commands. A button was pressed, and his suit''s twin cannons flared to life, their thunderous blasts ringing out. The missiles embedded in his suit¡¯s arms shot forward with a shriek, hurtling through the air to slam into the trench line below. Explosions erupted, tearing apart men and machines alike.

    The ground shook, and the rest of the Sons of Mars moved in, guns blazing, weapons roaring as they tore through the trenches. The infantry surged forward, using every weapon they could get their hands on¡ªfrom old medieval swords, their edges gleaming under the blood-red sky, to sleek laser rifles that hummed with deadly energy.

    "Rally behind them! Rally behind the true bloods of House Mars!" The war cry of the infantry rang out like a primal roar, a battle cry that shook the heavens.

    And there, in the midst of it all, Isaac¡¯s Warcasket rose above them¡ªa towering silhouette, casting a long shadow that blocked out the sun. The men below surged forward, emboldened by the figure that led them, a moving mountain of steel. His silhouette blazed bright against the dark sky, a symbol of Martian pride, and the enemy could do nothing but watch as the tide of battle turned.

    Isaac raised his arm, the massive cannon aimed skyward, and fired. The shot tore through the enemy lines, sending men flying, their screams cut short by the deafening roar of his weapons. The Martians behind him surged forward, the infantry charging with wild abandon, their weapons clashing with the enemy in a brutal, unforgiving dance of death.

    The trench was breached. The earth cracked open beneath their feet as the Martian forces tore through the enemy defenses.

    Axel moved forward, the crackling hum of his laser rifle cutting through the air, each shot a promise of death. Then, in an instant, a flash of red sliced through his vision¡ªa laser blast that zipped past his monitor and struck the side of his mobile suit''s head. The impact was jarring, but the damage was only superficial. "Shields... or cover!" Axel shouted, his voice strained as his fingers worked quickly, instinctively.

    With a sharp, metallic grind, Axel¡¯s free hand reached over his shoulder, drawing the shield from its mount. The heavy piece of armor locked into place, securing along his left arm with a satisfying click. He kept his rifle in both hands now, steadying his aim as he squeezed off another round. The air around him buzzed with the static of danger, the battlefield alive with chaos.

    "Shit," Issac muttered, his voice a growl of frustration. From somewhere in the haze, Kieren¡¯s curses joined in, their fury lost in the smoke and fire. "Where the hell¡¯s cover?" he snapped, just as a wild barrage of warcasket-patterned submachine gun fire cracked through the air, slamming into his armored frame. The screech of impact was deafening as laser streaks sliced past like the whip of death itself.

    "Issac, over here!" Kieren¡¯s voice rang through the haze, desperate, pulling Issac¡¯s attention.

    They were in the heart of it now¡ªsluggish, flat trenches carved into the earth by both nature and human hand. Explosions had pounded the ground, digging craters, while the stench of fire and metal saturated the air. The remnants of whatever once stood here were buried under mounds of dirt and debris. The ground was a sickly mix of scarred, pockmarked earth and mangled wreckage, painted in shades of smoke and blood.

    Issac twisted on his heel, his Warcasket moving in a full circle as his eyes scanned the horizon. The enemy was everywhere, unseen, hidden in the chaos. But then, through the smoke and fire, he saw it¡ªa flicker of movement. A distant tracer line, marking the enemy''s position.

    Kieren, meanwhile, had found a sanctuary. A thick hole, blasted deep into the earth, offered him temporary cover. His Warcasket dug deeper into the stone and dirt, its massive claws tearing through the earth effortlessly. "The hell¡­?" Issac''s voice was laced with confusion as he watched Kieren¡¯s Warcasket dig in, the boy not fighting but burying himself further.

    Before he could question it, Issac made his move. He flicked a button, and without hesitation, his missile pods flared to life. A torrent of ten missiles shot out, arcing upward into the air before plunging downward with deadly precision. The explosions detonated with a brutal wave of fire and shockwaves, filling the air with a deafening roar. The trench erupted in a violent cascade of flames and destruction, a fiery nightmare that swallowed men and machines alike.

    The intercoms crackled with panicked voices, as comrades and enemies alike bore witness to the fiery horror unfurling in the trench. And in the wake of the explosion, the Neptunian Warcaskets began to converge, their angular, thin limbs cutting through the battlefield with cruel efficiency. The corpses of fallen soldiers and broken machines crunched beneath their feet, their twisted bodies trampled without mercy.

    "Keep firing!" Axel¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, his command steady despite the gnashing of his teeth. His rifle shook in his hands, the recoil vibrating through his entire Warcasket. "Keep firing, damn it!"

    "Is there no end to this?" Kieren¡¯s voice wavered, fear creeping into his words. The others ignored the tremor of uncertainty in his voice, too wrapped up in the violence of the moment.

    "There shall be an end," Axel shouted back, his resolve as sharp as the edge of a blade. "And we shall find it!" His words rang out, an unyielding promise amid the storm.

    Issac, eyes scanning the horizon, flicked a button on his console. His Warcasket¡¯s head turned sharply to take in what was behind them. The fortress stood tall, a bastion of steel and defiance. Soldiers, desperate and determined, armed with laser rifles, nailers, and anti-warcasket weapons, held the line. But it was the armor they wore that caught his attention¡ªscraps of iron plates, chains of mail, ancient armor that spoke of humanity¡¯s return to a time before lasers and death machines.

    A smirk tugged at the corner of Issac¡¯s mouth, a cruel gleam in his eye. "No quarter!" he shouted, his voice an anthem of defiance. Without hesitation, he turned back to the fray, his rifle singing death with every shot.

    "Just like the military..." Issac muttered, his voice laced with bitter irony. His Warcasket''s missile launcher locked onto its target, the heavy mechanism hissing as it aligned with the distant enemy. He took aim, and without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger. A fiery reddish haze trailed the missile as it shot forward, a streak of death that collided with one of the Neptunian Warcaskets storming from the trench line. The explosion was a violent bloom of fire, sending the enemy machine crashing to the ground in a twisted heap of metal and smoke.

    "There''s gotta be over a dozen of them," Kieren¡¯s voice came through, horrified, his words a tight, breathless whisper over the comms.

    "Fifteen, actually," Edward responded, his voice calm despite the chaos that surrounded them. The distant hum of the battle buzzed in the background.

    Issac¡¯s eyes narrowed, instinctively drawn to the number on the screen. "You¡¯re overseeing the whole battle?" he asked, his tone sharp, a hint of disbelief in it.

    Edward snorted, the sound harsh and humorless. "Gave the Martians our numbers," he said. "The Monolith. It¡¯s practically unbreachable. And before now, it had remained in secret. Now, looks like we¡¯ve come down on a bad time..." His voice trailed off, but the weight of his words hung in the air, the gravity of their situation sinking in.

    Axel, already in the thick of it, returned fire. A missile slammed into his shield with a deafening explosion that sent his Warcasket stumbling backward. But Axel¡¯s reflexes were sharp. He countered quickly, boosting his thrusters and shaking off the remnants of his shield before powering forward. Beside him, Issac and Kieren fought to stay in motion, though Kieren¡¯s suit was sluggish, its movements slow and labored.

    "We''re Knights of Mars," Axel growled, his purple eyes hardening. "Nothing can stop us." He grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "I was trained by my uncle. He knighted me!" His voice rang with pride, the intensity of his words pushing him forward with an adrenaline-fueled surge. He understood now why Henryk valued speed above all else.

    With a roar, Axel surged into the air, his Warcasket launching upwards, propelled by the full power of his thrusters. Below, the Neptunian Warcaskets fired, their lasers streaking through the air¡ªred and amethyst arcs of death that slashed through the void. Axel¡¯s face twisted in focus, his purple eyes locking onto the targeting reticle. He squeezed the trigger, a barrage of fire ripping through the air.

    "Provide Axel cover fire! Suppressive fire, now, now, now!" Edward''s voice barked over the comms, frantic with urgency. "You crazy fucking bastard! The spikes can''t protect you forever!" he shouted, his words laced with fear and frustration.

    Axel''s laughter echoed through the comms, wild and free. "Try to keep up, Ed!" he shouted back, as Issac, rising from cover, joined the fray. In a fluid motion, Issac drew both his beam rifle and submachine gun, unleashing a hail of fire. The two weapons roared in tandem, a vicious storm of bullets and energy beams. At the same time, he slammed a button, and with a mechanical screech, his missile pods emptied. The warcaskets now found themselves under a dual assault¡ªboth aerial and ground-based. The battlefield trembled as the air filled with the violence of their onslaught.

    From afar, Henryk¡¯s senses tingled¡ªa sudden, gnawing awareness that something was wrong. His hand instinctively gripped the laser rifle at his side, the cool metal familiar beneath his fingers. He was miles away, far from the battlefield, but the crackling fire before him, the faint rustle of the wind¡ªeverything felt... off. He glanced down at Piper, still slumbering in the survival blanket and tent, unaware of the danger that loomed. Henryk had stripped out of his power armor hours ago, his body exhausted, his eyes heavy with sleep.

    Then, a branch snapped.

    Henryk rose, his body heavy with exhaustion. His laser rifle slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a dull clatter. ¡°Shit...¡± The word barely escaped his lips before a figure¡ªan alien, something out of a nightmare¡ªlunged at him, its six centipede-like limbs moving in a blur. But what Henryk truly saw was primal human horror, the kind that haunted him in his nightmares.

    He moved on instinct, memories of his brief yet brutal time on Oceana flooding back. Fighting the GrimGar in their urban mazes had honed that instinct. With practiced ease, he drew the plasma pistol from its holster, aimed, and fired. The blast tore through the creature, leaving a charred, blue-and-purple hole where its organs should have been. It fell with a sickening thud, lifeless.

    Henryk¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps. His eyes darted over the woods and the makeshift shelter he had created. Then they landed on Piper, curled up under her blanket. Her pale, freckled skin contrasted sharply with the bright red of her hair, which spilled across the blanket. Her breathing was shallow, labored, and Henryk¡¯s stomach twisted as he recalled the tears in her eyes¡ªtears that had burned scarlet, coming from that damn grey eye of hers.

    He pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the feeling creeping through him. The sky had darkened, and a sensation, something wrong, crawled up his spine. His hand fumbled through his messy hair, and with his other, he gripped his revolver tightly.

    ¡°Such fear...¡± he muttered, barely audible, but his voice caught in his throat. For a moment, the world around him seemed to warp. The stars, the universe¡ªthey all rushed toward him. He was in the center of it all, his senses overwhelmed. "So... it¡¯s a cycle. The Sons of Mars... even now, their strength could be used to conquer everything."

    Then, Issac¡¯s battle cry tore through his mind, the sound searing his thoughts. Henryk saw the beam blade in Issac¡¯s hand, slicing through an enemy warcasket. The scream rang in his head, and Henryk was gripped by its force.

    He shook his head, trying to clear it. This¡ªthis feeling¡ªhad happened before, back on Oceana. It was both a strength and a curse, this hyper-sensitivity, this knowing that always seemed to overwhelm him in moments of mass death.

    ¡°Keep firing!¡± Arthur¡¯s voice was a bark of fury, his words cutting through the haze of the battlefield as he and Axel pushed forward, their guns blazing. One after another, the Neptune Warcaskets fell, their hulking forms torn apart by relentless fire.

    ¡°Holly shit¡­¡± Issac¡¯s voice cut through the carnage, sharp and worn. He glanced over his console, the grim reality sinking in. ¡°I¡¯m completely out¡­¡±

    Then, a rumble. A deep, gut-wrenching tremor, the ground vibrating underfoot.

    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Arthur¡¯s head snapped toward the sound, his ears straining to catch the ominous noise.

    ¡°Yeah, the shit,¡± Axel muttered, eyes narrowing in disbelief. ¡°There can¡¯t be any more¡­¡±

    Issac sneered, his frustration boiling over. ¡°Radio the fortress. Get me an ammo drop and cache upgrades. Tank cannons for me. Now!¡± He slammed his fist against his console. He was the furthest out of all of them, but he didn¡¯t care. He was going to get what he needed.

    ¡°Oh god, I¡¯ve heard that sound before¡­¡± Arthur¡¯s voice trailed off, a chill creeping into his words.

    ¡°W-what?¡± Kieren was the only one who dared to ask, his voice shaky.

    Issac threw his submachine gun aside and drew his beam blade with both hands, gripping it with fierce determination. The forest ahead had been lush, peaceful, but now it was trampled, torn apart by the massive tank treads of a monstrous mechanical behemoth that charged toward them like an unstoppable force.

    ¡°I-I¡¯ve seen that machine before¡­¡± Arthur¡¯s voice trembled with recognition, and the words barely left his mouth before the war machine struck, slamming into Issac¡¯s Warcasket with such force that it sent him careening through the trees.

    ¡°Issac!¡± Axel¡¯s shout was raw, filled with panic. Both he and Arthur shot forward, weapons raised, as a tank cannon fired from the machine, its explosion sending shockwaves that rattled their machines. They shot forward, thrusters firing, pushing their mobile suits to the absolute limit, darting through the mud and trenches, their machines cutting through the terrain like it was nothing.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen this machine before!¡± Arthur shouted again, his voice trembling with urgency. As they raced forward, the massive machine opened fire, miniguns roaring to life, twin barrels spitting tracer rounds. They veered and dodged, but behind them, the fortress was being obliterated.

    The ancient stone walls of the castle shattered under the assault, crumbling like dust. The drawbridge fell, and chaos erupted as villagers and guards alike were caught in the crossfire, their screams lost in the roar of battle. ¡°Fall back! Let the Knights fight the mechanical abomination!¡± someone screamed, but it was too late. Soldiers were clipped mid-run, torn apart by the barrage.

    Axel fired his missiles, Arthur right behind him, both of them raising their shields to deflect incoming fire. Arthur¡¯s shield took the brunt of it, the force sending him stumbling back, but Axel pushed on, charging straight at the machine, determined to hold its attention.

    ¡°We can¡¯t let it destroy the fortress! There are peasants in there! We can¡¯t let it fall!¡± Edward¡¯s voice came through the comms, frantic and desperate.

    ¡°We know! We know!¡± Arthur shouted back, his voice thick with rage as they circled the machine, their weapons useless against the thick plating. Each shot barely left a mark.

    ¡°The Neptunians before¡­ they could hardly resist our weaponry, and¡­¡± Axel¡¯s voice trailed off, his words lost in the chaos. Before he could finish, the war machine¡¯s massive legs moved like a tidal wave, cutting through the ground beneath them. A blast from the tank suit¡¯s beam blade sliced through Axel¡¯s Warcasket¡¯s ankles, and a point-blank shot to his chest sent him flying backward. His face slammed into the console, and the world around him went black, the taste of blood and copper heavy on his tongue.

    ¡°Axel has fallen!¡± Edward¡¯s voice cracked with horror.

    Arthur¡¯s eyes burned with fury. Without hesitation, he released every missile, every cannon he had. The explosion was deafening. His hands, trembling with rage, gripped Henryk¡¯s father¡¯s sword. He pulled the ignition, and the weapon hummed to life, its energy surging through his hands.

    Arthur¡¯s thrusters roared as he shot forward, his Warcasket eating through the shattered landscape. The machine¡¯s towering form loomed before him, and with a shout of vengeance, he surged forward.

    ¡°For Axel, with Henryk¡¯s sword¡ªvengeance!¡± Arthur bellowed, his voice a battle cry, as the ground trembled beneath him.

    Arthur moved like a blur, the air around him alive with the whine of minigun fire and the searing hiss of laser blasts. The battlefield was a chaos of noise and smoke. He didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t stop. With a shout, he rocketed forward, soaring over the tank-treaded monstrosity beneath him. It was too slow, too lumbering¡ªit couldn¡¯t follow.

    "Glory to the Red Templars!" Arthur roared, his voice rising in defiance, a primal cry that was swallowed by the din of battle. His rockets screamed to life, and with the force of a god, he slammed Henryk¡¯s father¡¯s sword into the front of the war machine. The eager chains buzzed, almost alive with energy as they bit into the metal like a ravenous beast.

    "I REMEMBER YOUR WEAKNESS!" He bellowed, his grip tight on the hilt, the sword thrumming with power.

    His heart hammered as he wrenched the blade upwards, slicing through the air like it was a part of him, until a new threat emerged. A port on the machine opened with a mechanical hiss, revealing a crane wielding a beam blade, its sharp edge flashing like the kiss of death.

    It lunged, the blade snaking towards Arthur¡¯s cockpit. He felt the scrape, a sharp sting along his back, but before the damage could be too much, he spun the blade in his hands and cut through the machine''s wrist with a vicious, practiced arc.

    He didn¡¯t give it a second thought. The enemy wasn¡¯t done, and neither was he. Without hesitation, he fired up his thrusters again, accelerating toward the heart of the beast. He knew where the head was¡ªknew that red light was the machine¡¯s one weak spot, the place where the thing¡¯s eyes would be, the center of its vision. It had to see to kill. It had to see to destroy.

    Arthur¡¯s mind was empty of everything except the mission. The enemy¡¯s roar. The screaming metal. His hands gripped the sword, and he slammed it forward into the heart of the warcasket.

    The impact was like an explosion of light, and for a moment, Arthur could hear the beast howl in his mind¡ªa desperate, screeching thing that knew it was dying.

    "Death," Arthur shouted into the void. His voice was a storm. "Death! It is the Martian birthright to inherit the stars¡­ You just don¡¯t know it yet. The Neptunians¡­ It all belongs to us!"

    As he shouted, the Neptunian machine fought back, still alive, still thrashing in its death throes. Two cranes emerged, their micro beam blades flashing in the dim light, cutting into Arthur¡¯s suit with precision, as if they were blades of wrath incarnate. They slashed deep, the impact searing through his armor, and blood spurted, splattering across his console. He didn¡¯t care. He couldn¡¯t care. The pain, the blood, the vision clouded by red¡ªnothing mattered.

    He screamed. He kept screaming.

    "For the Knights of Mars!" he roared, his voice cracking under the weight of his fury. "I remember you! You murdered my father and brother! DIE!" He gritted his teeth, and the words turned into a feral howl.

    The Neptunian machine lurched, its claws and cranes, those medusa-like arms, writhing in their death dance, until they finally stilled. Arthur stood amidst the wreckage, panting, shaking, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

    "Yeah¡­ take that, you fucking, freakin'' bastard¡­¡± He spat, blood and saliva dribbling from his lips as he glared at his shattered Martian armor, now torn and bloodied, the skin beneath it raw. His hand trembled as he looked at the mess, the wreckage of his own body, but his smirk remained¡ªthin, bitter.

    The voices in his radio were muffled, distant, like a dream he was just waking from. The world around him seemed to slow.

    ¡°I¡ªI did it¡­¡± His voice was faint, his breath shallow. ¡°Pa... Edgar... I killed the bastard.¡± His eyes fluttered closed, the weight of his words sinking into him like a lead weight. He felt himself slipping. ¡°I¡¯ll see you... and hopefully Ma again.¡±

    And then, there was nothing but the quiet darkness.

 Chapter 16 - Druid Knight of Mars

    Chapter 16 - Druid Knight of Mars

    <hr>

    <u>Edward</u>

    Arthur awoke with a sharp inhale, his eyes snapping open, darting wildly. Instinct told him to rise, to push himself up¡ªbut the moment he tried, pain laced through his body like fire in his veins. Every muscle ached, every inch of him felt stitched together with raw agony.

    "Easy, big guy," came a familiar voice.

    Ed was sitting nearby, his posture relaxed but his eyes watchful. Beside him, Kieren lingered, shifting his weight awkwardly, his discomfort plain in the way he hovered like a ghost in the dim light.

    Arthur gritted his teeth as his mechanical fingers curled into the soft, pale blankets beneath him. The sensation of fabric felt strange against cold metal. He tried to push himself up again, but Ed¡¯s hand caught his shoulder, firm but careful.

    "Don¡¯t," Ed said. "You took a bad beating. You¡¯d be amazed at the number of stitches you¡¯ve got holding you together. Even with your healing factor, you¡¯re gonna carry some new scars."

    Arthur tensed, fingers twitching as he took in his surroundings. The walls were old stone, stacked high and uneven, their edges softened by time. Shadows flickered, cast by a roaring fireplace that dominated the center of the room, its heat licking at the air, warming everything in a golden-orange glow. Candles lined the walls, their light dancing against the faces of those gathered.

    Then there was a sound¡ªa low, guttural noise from somewhere beyond. It sent a shiver up his spine. Something was breathing in the dark.

    "Where are we?" Arthur rasped.

    Ed exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You¡¯re safe. We¡¯re safe. That¡¯s what matters." A pause. His gaze swept the room, searching for the right words. "This is The Monolith. Used to be some old Martian fortress. Now? It''s a sanctuary, a hideout for the remnants."

    Arthur¡¯s breath hitched. "Where¡¯s Axel? Where¡¯s Isaac?"

    Panic clawed into his voice, but Kieren cut in, calm, steady. "Isaac¡¯s at the firing range." His eyes shifted, his expression tight, as if the words sat uncomfortably in his mouth. His attire was different¡ªsomething about it felt offhand, ill-fitting, like he didn''t belong in it. "Axel¡¯s in the¡­ what was it called again?"

    "The Sword Pits," Ed answered.

    Arthur didn¡¯t respond at first. His gaze swept the room, taking in the long row of beds¡ªtoo many, crammed together like coffins waiting to be filled. Some of them already were.

    Men lay on them, some barely clinging to life. Boys, younger than they should have been for a battlefield, whimpered in pain. Limbs were missing, bodies wrapped in bandages stained deep red. Young women moved between them, tending wounds with careful hands. In the dim firelight, Arthur watched the dead being carried out, their faces covered, their bodies limp.

    His breath left him in a slow, heavy sigh.

    ¡°¡­And what of Henryk?¡±

    The reaction was immediate. Ed¡¯s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. Kieren turned away, hiding whatever was written on his face.

    Ed sighed again, louder this time. "We know he¡¯s alive. That¡¯s enough for now." His voice was measured, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "You and the rest were lucky¡ªyour injuries were superficial compared to some of the others. You got the worst of it, though. You¡¯ve been out cold since the battle."

    Arthur¡¯s stomach knotted.

    "How long?"

    "A day, maybe two," Ed said.

    Arthur groaned, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. His skull throbbed, the pain nestled deep in the bones. He forced himself upright, wincing as his muscles screamed in protest.

    "Okay, okay," Ed muttered, rising to his feet, Kieren standing alongside him. "You need anything? It¡¯s a feudal lot here, but they¡¯ve got amenities."

    Arthur let out a slow breath, glancing around. "I can see that." He hesitated, running a hand over his face. "I won¡¯t lie, though¡­ it feels nice, being away from all the tech. The gadgets, the blinking lights. Even though our Warcaskets and weapons are advanced, there¡¯s something peaceful about the simplicity of it all."

    Kieren snorted. "More like the simplicity of getting tetanus."

    Ed nudged him with an elbow, shaking his head.

    "What?" Kieren whispered back, raising a hand in a lazy gesture. "These dumb hicks couldn¡¯t tell a toaster from a lighter. I doubt they can even keep up with how fast I talk." His voice carried just enough arrogance to make Arthur clench his jaw.

    "You''re lucky you got the spikes, boy," Arthur spat. But he sighed, shaking his head, dropping it before the anger simmered too hot. "I need clothes. Something like Kieren''s will do. My emotions betrayed me¡ªI shouldn''t have announced our status as Truebloods."

    Ed nodded along. "It¡¯s whatever¡­" But his eyes narrowed as they swept the room. The low murmur of voices, the soft rustling of bandages being changed¡ªtoo many people lay wounded, and the last thing they needed was loose tongues wagging.

    At least one or two nurses kept passing their open stall a little too often. The last thing they needed was rumors.

    "They know," Ed muttered, voice low. "But it couldn¡¯t be helped."

    Kieren sneered. "So, them knowing about our mutations¡ª"

    "The spikes," Ed interrupted, his voice sharp enough to make Kieren stiffen. "Don¡¯t call it that."

    Kieren swallowed hard.

    Ed turned his gaze toward Arthur. "You were raised on a feudal world¡­"

    Arthur exhaled through his nose. "They knew the triumphs of House Mars, so at the very least, they weren¡¯t completely uncivilized." He brushed a stray bit of lint from the ragged brown pants they must¡¯ve dressed him in while he was unconscious.

    Ed sighed, nodding. "Same rules as old Mars. I already warned Kieren, but you should feel the most at home here."

    Arthur flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders. "Okay. So where do we go now?"

    Ed gestured toward Kieren. "Flag down one of the nurses. Ask for a set of clothes."

    Kieren gave a stiff nod and strode off, his posture straight but a little too rigid. Both Ed and Arthur watched him for a few extra seconds as he moved through the ward.

    "He¡¯s an interesting one," Arthur remarked.

    Ed stayed silent, running a hand through his hair.

    Arthur turned to him, voice even. "What do you think, Sire? You think he was worth the spikes?"

    Ed didn¡¯t answer right away. His fingers combed over his face as if trying to smooth out thoughts too jagged to hold. Finally, he exhaled.

    "His life was saved," Ed murmured. "The house got away clean with what happened. And Jace and House Venus¡ª" he smirked faintly, turning to Arthur¡ª "a month later, they came out none the wiser."

    Arthur didn¡¯t return the smirk. He just stared, gaze locked on Kieren as the younger man approached a nurse¡ªa blonde woman in a blue dress, a crisp white blouse layered on top, a neatly perched nurse¡¯s cap balanced on her head.

    "Those spikes mean he¡¯ll never have a normal life again," Arthur said, sliding on the last of his boots. His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "Everything. The food he eats. The woman he marries. Even how advanced his shitter is gonna be¡ªthat¡¯s all been decided for him."

    His eyes darkened.

    "And the one job¡ªthe one thing the spikes boosted our ability to do¡ª" Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose, the corner of his lip curling. "He tried to crawl into a hole and hide. Like a coward."

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened.

    Arthur wasn¡¯t looking at him. His gaze was still locked on Kieren.

    "He dishonors the Red Templars with every breath he takes," Arthur said, his voice cold, final.

    Ed¡¯s breath caught, and he turned toward him fully. "Arthur¡ªaren¡¯t you being a little harsh on him?" His voice was softer now, measured. "That was Kieren¡¯s first real engagement¡­"

    Arthur snapped his head up, his gaze sharpening like a blade catching the light. "So," he said, voice flat. "Henryk was afraid. Sure. Looked like he was about to piss himself. I remember when the others thought he¡¯d be a liability..."

    A faint smirk curled his lip. "Then old Henryk goes and covers our weak points. Turns out he¡¯s more of a strength than a liability. Hell, when he got separated, he linked up with House Pluto, and we got double the support for your rescue. Could Kieren have done that?"

    Edward was silent.

    Arthur let the moment stretch before speaking again.

    "...And he¡¯s the one that has my father¡¯s spikes," Arthur said, wrapping his arms around himself. "My brother¡¯s spikes. My grandfather¡¯s. His father¡¯s. And his father¡¯s before him."

    "Arthur, I get it," Ed murmured, his voice quiet, careful.

    "I get that he was leading executor," Arthur pressed on, voice gaining heat. "I get that. But if we were following proper tradition, every other squire would¡¯ve been inducted as either serfs or Warrior-Serfs."

    Ed exhaled through his nose. "Because there¡¯s still an option for more squires to be inducted," he said. "You just spoke of Henryk¡ªlike you said, we¡¯re differing from tradition. I¡¯m still allowing him to prove himself the formal way."

    Arthur chuckled, low and bitter. "So Kieren gets the shortcut to divinity, but Henryk¡¯s gotta take the long road."

    Ed¡¯s eyes narrowed. "And what would you have of me?" he said, voice edged now. "Just give the spikes out willy-nilly? Mateo was right¡ªKieren was lying on a metal table talking about how he¡¯d never walk again. You really expect me, if Henryk had been in that same position, to just let him die? To deny him the spikes?"

    Arthur¡¯s chuckle deepened into something darker. He leaned forward, looking Ed dead in the eye.

    "Let me put it this way," he said. "Between Henryk and Kieren? I would¡¯ve chosen Henryk, no question. But even then¡ª" His eyes glistened, something raw flickering behind them. He shook his head, slow and deliberate.

    "I like Henryk," Arthur admitted, his voice quieter now, but heavy as stone. "But I would¡¯ve let him die on that table before I gave him the divine spikes."

    He whistled then, turning toward the rapidly approaching Kieren.

    "Henryk and the others¡ª" Arthur exhaled, his words final, carved in iron. "Henryk may have been tested, but he¡¯s still got a long way to go before I even consider him worthy."

    <u>Joseph</u>

    Joseph sat in Ed¡¯s office, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like an ill-fitting coat. He wasn¡¯t just filling in¡ªhe was the one Ed had put in charge during his absence. And now, for the first time, Joseph was beginning to grasp just how much work went into running the house. Bills, supplies, tuition. Always being on call. That was just for their house¡ªhe didn¡¯t even want to imagine the nightmare of managing one of the bigger ones.

    Instead of thinking about it, he focused on his phone, flicking through a mindless app game, his fingers tapping out some idle rhythm against the screen. That¡¯s why Bea¡¯s call caught him off guard.

    His phone buzzed. He stared at the name for half a second before answering.

    "Hello...?" he said, his voice coming out more hesitant than he liked.

    ¡°Hey¡­ this is James, right?¡± Bea¡¯s voice came through the line.

    Joseph sighed, already rubbing his temple. ¡°No, Joseph. Or Joey.¡±

    ¡°Oh, damn, sorry,¡± Bea said, letting out a breath. ¡°Listen, Ed told me to call you if anything came up.¡±

    That got Joseph¡¯s attention. His back straightened. "What happened?"

    Bea must have picked up on the shift in his silence.

    "Relax, it''s nothing bad," she assured him. "Just some things I think you should be aware of. A report, if you will."

    Joseph nodded, even though she couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°S-sure, so, what¡¯s up?¡±

    He winced at his own voice. Too nervous. Too obvious. He never had been great at talking to the opposite sex.

    Bea sighed on the other end. ¡°First off, I took the suggestions you guys gave me about the machines. I¡¯ve been working with Henryk on¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been working with Henryk?¡± Joseph interrupted, then immediately regretted it, his hand flying to his face. He should¡¯ve just shut up.

    Bea didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Yeah. He may not be a Martian, but he sure as hell understands the technical aspects of our technology.¡±

    Joseph had no real response to that, so he just let her continue.

    ¡°I¡¯ve worked out the test type for the Warcasket micro-carrier,¡± Bea went on. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got it operational.¡±

    ¡°Gee, that¡¯s great,¡± Joseph said, trying to sound confident, but Bea cut him off.

    ¡°No. That¡¯s the thing¡ªit¡¯s only going to be programmed for a single pilot.¡±

    Joseph frowned. ¡°Wait, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°The connection between the suit and the carrier is instantaneous," she explained. "Me and Henryk are still working out the bugs, but the tests and the simulations I¡¯ve been having Adaline run? Absolute godsend.¡±

    Joseph exhaled. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ really good, actually.¡± He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, thanks for the update, but we still haven¡¯t heard from Edward or a good chunk of the guys in the last couple of days. We¡¯re not worried¡ªdeep space travel has its issues¡ªbut it might take a little longer for your message to reach him."

    Bea was quiet for a second before asking, ¡°Who¡¯s missing? I know Ed, but Henryk too?¡±

    Joseph nodded, even though she couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°Yeah. The house is quieter than it¡¯s ever been. At first, it was kind of nice,¡± he admitted, rising from his chair and making his way toward the massive central window. But as he spoke, his smile faded. "...But now there¡¯s just a lot of empty rooms."

    Bea let out a tired sigh. "I owe Henryk for what happened with Adaline."

    Joseph could hear the exhaustion in her voice. Then, something sharper¡ªsomething simmering just beneath.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky Henryk saved her," she said, her voice cooling to steel. "Not a hair harmed on her head. Ed¡¯s lucky I didn¡¯t rip him a new one for that."

    Joseph winced.

    Yeah. He didn¡¯t envy Ed for that conversation.

    Bea continued, her tone shifting. ¡°Listen, if Ed isn¡¯t around and you guys are short-manned, I get it if you don¡¯t wanna hear this next part.¡±

    Joseph sat up straighter. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°A mission.¡± A pause. ¡°Honestly, doesn¡¯t look too bad. Probably a bug hunt or something else out there.¡± There was a slight rustling on her end¡ªpapers shifting, maybe a screen flicking. Joseph had the distinct feeling she was reading off something. ¡°Came across my board a little while ago. Thought it was bullshit at first, but I dug deeper. The photo was real. The location wasn¡¯t.¡± Another pause. ¡°Blah, blah, you get the idea.¡±

    ¡°Bea,¡± Joseph said, patience thinning. ¡°Can you just tell me what¡¯s going on?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Look, the details on this one are murky, but I¡¯m damn near certain¡ªI found a relic ship from Old House Mars.¡±

    Joseph froze. The air seemed to thicken in the office. His earlier slack posture was gone. ¡°You serious?¡±

    He could already tell she was nodding on the other end. ¡°I can send the files to Ed¡¯s computer if you¡¯ve got the password.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Do it.¡±

    Joseph flicked on Ed¡¯s terminal. The screen hummed to life, and the first thing that greeted him was a group photo of the present Sons of Mars. Front and center was Axel, wearing that telltale emo sneer.

    Joseph smirked. ¡°Hah. That¡¯s sweet and sentimental. I gotta bully him later for that shit.¡±

    ¡°What was that?¡± Bea asked.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he muttered, already pulling up the email.

    The image loaded, a grainy black-and-white blotched photo. Time-stamped coordinates ran along the bottom, stark and clear against the distortion.

    ¡°This was recorded a week ago,¡± Joseph murmured, sinking into Ed¡¯s chair.

    ¡°The forums and even the guild were losing their minds over it. I¡¯m surprised you guys didn¡¯t hear.¡±

    Joseph sighed. ¡°There¡¯s been a lot happening on our end.¡±

    ¡°Clearly.¡± Bea exhaled. ¡°People were sent to the coordinates. Students, scavengers, soldiers, mercs¡ªhell, even some government spooks sniffing around. And then, strangely enough? Poof. Just gone.¡±

    Joseph¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°You¡¯re kidding. A behemoth like that, just¡ªvanished?¡±

    Bea didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Which means one of two things. Either it left on its own¡­¡±

    Joseph scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡±

    ¡°¡­or maybe it doesn¡¯t wanna be found.¡±

    A heavy silence stretched between them.

    Then Bea, ever pragmatic, added, ¡°¡­or there¡¯s a lot of goodies onboard.¡±

    Joseph scrubbed a hand through his hair. ¡°Okay. You make a good point. Thanks for bringing this to us.¡± A small smirk tugged at his lips. ¡°You¡¯re a wonderful handler, Bea.¡±

    Bea was silent for a moment before answering, her voice drier than a Martian dust storm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get comfortable,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°I only help you guys because of what Henryk did for my sister¡­ and because Ed is blackmailing me.¡±

    Joseph¡¯s eyes widened, then narrowed as his hand dragged down his face. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t know that.¡±

    Bea exhaled. ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve got other things to deal with. Adaline¡¯s graduating soon, and we need to start looking at colleges.¡±

    Joseph smirked. ¡°Hah, send her here.¡±

    Bea let out a sharp laugh. ¡°Yeah, right. Like hell I¡¯d send her to that animal-kingdom monkey school you call an academy.¡±

    Joseph chuckled harder. ¡°Fair.¡± His tone sobered as he leaned back. ¡°I¡¯m probably heading out alone. I¡¯ll take one of Ed¡¯s smaller transports and a Warcasket¡ªat least do some recon.¡±

    Bea was quiet for a beat. ¡°Be careful,¡± she tested.

    ¡°I will,¡± he assured.

    She sighed. ¡°You boys have the spikes, but that doesn¡¯t make you Knights of Mars.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Joseph stretched his arms, the motion slow and lazy, but his voice was firm. ¡°Feels like my knight cousins forget that fact, though.¡± He paused, running a hand through his hair. ¡°After the fall of Mars, my father took us to another world. We found a tribe. That tribe became my home. For years, he blended nomadic life with Martian Europeanism. Most of the Sons of Mars¡ªhell, including Edward¡ªdidn¡¯t have their fathers around after the fall to train them.¡±

    Bea sighed again, slower this time. ¡°That¡¯s all well and good, but you know how dangerous deep space travel is. I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re not skilled, but¡­¡±

    ¡°No, you make a good point.¡± Joseph¡¯s fingers traced his jaw, thoughtful. ¡°¡­but like you said, we don¡¯t have the manpower.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t there anyone else you could take with you?¡±

    Joseph shrugged. ¡°One of the reasons Tyson and I got left behind was what happened last time the squires went off without permission.¡± He groaned, rubbing at his temple. ¡°They¡¯re all legally adults. We shouldn¡¯t have to babysit them like they¡¯re kids.¡±

    ¡°Well, the mission¡¯s there if you need it,¡± Bea said. Then, a slight hesitation. ¡°But¡­ isn¡¯t there someone else with you?¡±

    Joseph¡¯s expression flickered. ¡°August. Yeah. But he¡¯s not exactly the fighting type.¡±

    ¡°He has the spikes, though,¡± Bea pointed out. ¡°I thought he was born on Mars?¡±

    ¡°Born there, yeah.¡± Joseph hesitated, running a hand through his hair again. ¡°Raised¡­ not so much.¡±

    Bea stayed silent, letting him talk.

    ¡°If August had tried to be a Knight of Mars during our prime, he wouldn¡¯t have even made it past the front gate,¡± Joseph muttered, slumping back into his chair. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why he¡¯s here. Out of everyone¡ªhell, even Henryk¡ªAUGUST had the most normal life. His dad died in the fall, sure, but he was raised on a Midworld under Mercurian control. A safe, cushy life. So why the hell would a guy like that choose to walk back onto this road?¡±

    Bea exhaled, the sound staticky over the call. ¡°Well. I told you the mission. The choice is yours. Pass what I said to Ed when you get the chance.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± Joseph said simply.

    After Bea¡¯s phone call, Joseph sat in silence, the only sound the rhythmic clatter of his mouse as he scrolled through the data. A cruiser¡ªmassive, the kind that wouldn¡¯t launch without at least a hundred crew members. And yet, there one second, gone the next. Vanishing like a ghost in the black.

    It was madness. But the Martians were known for their madness.

    Joseph leaned in, eyes narrowing at the grainy image of the vessel. Could it be some prototype? Some way of crossing impossible distances in the blink of an eye?

    He shook his head. The coordinates Bea had sent were buried deep, a cipher within a cipher on the dark web. Millions had seen the last known image. Only a handful could see this one. He rubbed his chin, mind drifting to relics¡ªartifacts, weapons, schematics, even scraps of a culture long turned to ash. Anything was worth the risk. He exhaled sharply and powered down the computer.

    He called August and Tyson into the room, giving them a quick rundown.

    ¡°So,¡± Tyson said, crossing his arms. ¡°Who¡¯s going with you?¡±

    His gaze flicked toward August, who sat hunched, arms wrapped around himself, head low, avoiding their eyes.

    Ty sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll go¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Joseph cut in, voice quiet but firm. ¡°The squires respect you. They¡¯ll listen to what you have to say.¡±

    Ty shook his head, glancing at August. The kid¡¯s face was hidden, but his eyes¡ªTy could see them. Wide. Drenched in something Joseph couldn¡¯t pick up on.

    ¡°August has never been on a single mission,¡± Ty said, measured. ¡°He¡¯s barely trained. Between him and Henryk? He¡¯s greener.¡±

    Joseph sneered, gesturing toward August¡¯s curled-up frame. ¡°He¡¯s a Knight of Mars,¡± he said, voice ebbing with conviction. ¡°He¡¯s got the spikes on his back, doesn¡¯t he? That makes him one of us. And as a member of this house, he¡¯ll fight.¡± Joseph turned, offering a smile¡ªpracticed, confident. But it faltered the moment he actually saw August.

    The kid was sniffling, silent tears streaking down his cheeks as he wiped them with the sleeves of his coat.

    ¡°August, you alright, man?¡± Ty asked, crouching down to his level.

    August sucked in a breath, voice shaking. ¡°I¡ªI¡­ I¡¯m a c-coward.¡±

    ¡°August,¡± Joseph started, but August pushed forward, voice gaining momentum, swelling with something raw and jagged.

    ¡°My father was a warrior. A true warrior. He died noble¡ªdied before he had to watch Mars burn.¡± His hands curled into fists, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. ¡°I understand Henryk. When he talks about proving himself¡ªI get it. But I¡¯m afraid.¡± His voice cracked on the last word, a sudden rupture, splitting the air. ¡°I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    Joseph¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Then why are you here?¡±

    Ty¡¯s eyes flicked toward him, narrowing. ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Joseph said, unflinching. ¡°He joined the Sons of Mars, didn¡¯t he? Ty, people in the Empire look at you like a mistake because of your mutations. But that hasn¡¯t stopped you from doing your duty.¡±

    Ty¡¯s fist clenched, then slowly unfurled. His voice was measured but simmering. ¡°Even then, August¡¯s reasons for not fighting are valid. He¡¯s human. No matter what the spikes change, we are still¡ªwill always be¡ªhuman.¡±

    Joseph turned the word over in his mouth. ¡°Human.¡± His lip curled slightly, just shy of a sneer. ¡°Is it wrong to ask more? If August wanted, he could¡¯ve been an engineer on Mercury or Earth. Hell, he could¡¯ve leveraged his Martian blood to squeeze into a House like Saturn or Neptune. But here? Where the only path is knighthood?¡± Joseph exhaled sharply. ¡°What¡¯s the use of a knight who won¡¯t fight?¡±

    ¡°Knights weren¡¯t all meant just for fighting,¡± Tyson said, his voice steady, measured. ¡°Some of the greatest warriors tended the most beautiful gardens.¡±

    Silence settled between them, thick and uneasy. The only sound was August¡¯s faint sniffling, the quiet tremble of someone trying to hold himself together.

    Joseph exhaled, long and slow, then turned to August. ¡°I get it. You don¡¯t want to fight. You don¡¯t want to die. But I need you on this mission. The house needs you.¡±

    Tyson shifted as if to speak, but Joseph cut him off with a raised hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be the one doing the investigating,¡± Joseph continued, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. ¡°But I need someone to keep the ship steady.¡±

    August wiped his glasses with the sleeve of his jacket, cleared his nose with the back of his hand. He didn¡¯t look up.

    ¡°I need someone handling the technical side,¡± Joseph said. ¡°If something goes wrong¡ªand let¡¯s be honest, something always goes wrong¡ªI need eyes on the systems.¡±

    ¡°To keep an eye on the mechanical¡­¡± August¡¯s voice cracked, fragile as glass, and Joseph allowed himself a small smirk.

    ¡°Ty had a point,¡± Joseph admitted, nodding toward Tyson, who tensed slightly, unsure of where this was going. ¡°Not every knight wields a sword.¡±

    Joseph stepped forward, resting a firm hand on August¡¯s shoulder. His grip was solid, the calloused strength of someone who had been in the fire and expected others to stand beside him.

    ¡°There are other ways to serve,¡± he said, his voice low, final.

    <u>Logan</u>

    "I¡¯ve got to say, Jace¡ªfor a guy wearing those girlish colors, you sure know how to throw a party."

    Logan and Jace stood at the outskirts of Academy City, far from the towering spires that clawed at the sky. Here, the world looked older. Time moved slower. The marble-walled houses still stood proud, chimneys puffing soft plumes of smoke into the cooling air. The roads, smooth black asphalt, cut clean through the past, where vintage cars rolled alongside modern machines like ghosts of two different eras refusing to let go.

    Yet the real party was deeper in the woods, where the city¡¯s glow faded, swallowed by towering oaks and pines. Their massive limbs twisted into a natural canopy, the shadows long, the air thick with pine and damp earth. But in the heart of the clearing, a bonfire roared, spitting embers into the bruised evening sky.

    Young men and women, draped in the purple of Venus and the blue of Neptune, had gathered in droves. Dozens, maybe hundreds, drinking from kegs, their laughter and shouts rising above the pounding bass of music. Around the fire, tankards clashed, liquor sloshed, and reckless joy ran wild. Jace and Logan clinked their drinks together, tipping their heads back as they drank deep, the burn running warm down their throats.

    "I¡¯m telling you," Logan said, gesturing with his cup, "when the bigger houses put their heads together, they always pull off something grand."

    "Sounds like someone¡¯s enjoying himself," Jace replied, flashing a grin.

    Logan waved him off. "I¡¯m humble. Like my brother. Like my father." He swept his drink in an arc, gesturing at the partygoers. But not all were lost in revelry. Some had broken away from the crowd, the sound of steel clashing in the distance¡ªswords and tridents meeting in sparring duels under the moon¡¯s watchful eye.

    Logan¡¯s blue eyes flickered toward the sound, uneasy.

    "Don¡¯t worry about it," Jace said, finishing his drink and tossing the empty can into the underbrush. "It¡¯s good for them. Different teams. Different styles. They¡¯ll sharpen each other."

    Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Didn¡¯t think you cared much for martial combat."

    Jace smirked. "All princes do."

    "No," Logan corrected, voice lowering. "We must." He drained his drink and sent it flying into the dark.

    Jace leaned in slightly, studying him. "You brought up your father and brother. How goes your conquest of the Oceana sector?"

    Logan sighed. "What are you, a reporter?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "A conquest¡­"

    Jace chuckled. "I mean it in jest."

    But Logan wasn¡¯t laughing.

    "If you must know, it¡¯s a slaughter," he muttered. "The people don¡¯t want us there, but the might of Neptune¡ª" His fingers clenched, the knuckles whitening. He glared down at his fist as if he could feel the weight of the empire pressing against his palm. "That blue Neptunian fist crushes everything. They can hold out for now. But when my brother reaches them?" His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "There¡¯ll be nothing left."

    Jace watched him carefully, expression unreadable. "That¡¯s good to hear. The Mercurians wouldn¡¯t know how to tame the land. And many in Oceana still cling to their old ties to House Mars. Poor fools."

    Logan nodded absently, his thoughts drifting. The fire reflected in his drink, rippling against the dark liquid like blood swirling in water.

    Then Jace tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "You called it a slaughter before."

    "Correct." Logan nodded, sluggish now, his voice loosening at the edges. He burped, blinking hard. He was a drinker, always had been. But this? This was the first time a single drink had really made him feel drunk.

    Weird.

    "You know," Jace started, his voice unusually measured, "if you wanted, my father and I¡­ we¡¯re close. As close as a prince and king can be, after losing my mother."

    He hesitated. Just for a moment. Then, as if the thought had never been there at all, he smiled and locked eyes with Logan again, easy and casual, like he¡¯d just said something completely normal.

    "You helped me with Henryk," he continued.

    "Don¡¯t worry about it," Logan said quickly, almost cutting him off.

    "But I owe you." Jace¡¯s tone didn¡¯t waver.

    Logan let out a short, drunken laugh, the kind that carried more weight than it should have. "You don¡¯t owe me anything." His smile lingered, lazy, half-lidded. "That hick mutant had it coming. After what he tried with your sister? He just got lucky¡­" His voice trailed off, lost somewhere in the back of his throat.

    "I should be thanking you," Jace said. "You lost one of your guys the last time my plan fell through."

    Jace wiped his nose absently, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Water under the bridge."

    "Really? Not even money for the Warcasket replacements?" Logan asked, tilting his head.

    Jace shook his head. "No. Like I told you before, that model was just some old tech we had stashed from a few years back. No real loss. And the pilot? I was surprised he lasted as long as he did in that thing." He chuckled at the thought.

    Logan exhaled, some tension unwinding in his shoulders. "Well, that¡¯s a relief. I was worried, during the fight¡­ that he was someone you guys actually knew."

    Jace erupted into laughter¡ªsharp, sudden, ugly.

    "That fucking loser?" He sneered. "Nah. We only let him in because it was the last day. He was begging. Pleading. But when we found out he was Henryk¡¯s friend¡­" Jace¡¯s grin sharpened, and there was something in his eyes¡ªsomething dark and glinting. "Well. I suppose we had to let him in."

    Logan glanced at him, his smile twitching at the edges. "You pay the family?"

    Jace shot him a confused look.

    Logan gestured vaguely, rolling his wrist in the air. "You know. He died. You give them the death tax, Jace?"

    Jace¡¯s expression shifted, his pupils dilating slightly. Then, realization dawned, and his lips curled again. Slowly, he lifted a finger beneath his nose, rubbing the skin absentmindedly. A little tic. A little tell.

    Logan only chuckled, the sound low and knowing. "We got real lucky that one did get clipped, though. We lost the duel. If people hadn¡¯t been so rattled by Jos¨¦¡¯s death, they¡¯d have forced Atticus to confess. And I don¡¯t know how much Clarissa told him about the real reason behind that duel¡­"

    Jace said nothing, just kept that slow, easy smirk on his face. The firelight flickered in his violet eyes, shadows stretching long behind him.

    Jace waved a hand, dismissive but deliberate. ¡°¡­We may have lost the battle, but the war is far from over. Henryk J. Brown¡ªhis time will come. And we¡¯ll be the ones with our boots on his throat.¡±

    Logan arched a brow. ¡°So you still hold that grudge against him?¡±

    Jace scoffed as he stepped toward the bench, grabbing a bottle and pouring another drink. ¡°Grudge?¡± he repeated, his voice tinged with something cold.

    Logan watched him, his own drink swaying in his hand. ¡°Yeah. About what happened between him and Hannah. I¡¯ve heard a lot of rumors saying you put it aside.¡±

    Jace chuckled, but there was nothing lighthearted in the sound. It was low, dark, something guttural. ¡°That bastard tried to force himself on my little sister.¡± His violet eyes narrowed, the firelight glinting off their edges like sharpened steel. ¡°There won¡¯t be a single night I sleep soundly until he¡¯s dead and in the ground.¡±

    Logan raised his cup, and Jace poured.

    ¡°To that,¡± Logan muttered, knocking back the drink, his throat working in heavy gulps. He wiped his mouth and grinned. ¡°You know something? You¡¯re alright, Jace. Real alright.¡± He lifted the cup again, and Jace obliged with another pour. ¡°You¡¯re a stand-up guy. I¡¯m glad our houses are on good terms. And you¡¯ve even got the kindness to aid my older brother.¡±

    Jace smirked, rolling the bottle between his fingers. ¡°¡­Royals should be friends. That¡¯s what my father always said.¡± He leaned back slightly, watching Logan over the rim of his glass. ¡°The Martians may have been savages, but a medieval order is still better than the way these planetary governments run their midworlds and colonies. Letting things like class progression exist.¡± He gave a visible shiver, his lip curling in distaste. ¡°The Martians were barbarians, but at least they knew how to keep order.¡±

    Logan took a slow sip, the kind meant more for thought than thirst. A smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes were unfocused now, his features completely flushed.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± Logan started, swirling the brackish liquid in his cup, his blue eyes lost in the motion. ¡°About your sister¡­ not many people know this, but me and my brother had one too.¡± He drained the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass down with a quiet thud.

    Jace¡¯s eyes widened, something flickering in his gaze. A Neptunian princess? Now, this was why the liquor had been brought out¡ªloose lips spill truths.

    Logan stared at the liquid in his cup, watching it shift like an old memory refusing to settle. ¡°I don¡¯t know much. My brother knows more¡­ She was born before him. Stillborn. They didn¡¯t even announce it to the public. No formalities. No burial for the people to mourn. Just a private funeral. Just family.¡±

    The fire crackled, the weight of the words settling between them like ash.

    Jace¡¯s voice came, smooth, deliberate. ¡°¡­If that timing is right, that would have been around when your mother started deteriorating.¡±

    Logan didn¡¯t speak at first, just nodded, slow and heavy.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he finally said.

    Just that.

    Then he took another deep pull from his drink.

    <u>Bri</u>

    ¡°How long has she been like this?¡± Himari asked, her voice low.

    She and Belle-Anne stood just outside Bri¡¯s room, the dim glow of the dorm¡¯s overhead lights casting long shadows against the narrow hall. Their dorm wasn¡¯t much¡ªjust three bedrooms, a bathroom, a cramped kitchen, and a living room that felt smaller than it should. It sounded big on paper, but when you were boxed on the third floor of a seven-story apartment-style dorm, it felt more like a holding cell.

    There were no windows in this hall. Just walls. Stale air. And beyond them, inside that room, Bri sat curled up in the moonlight, shaking under her blanket, wrapped tight in her robe.

    ¡°A million¡­¡± Himari heard her murmur.

    Then again. ¡°¡­A million¡­¡±

    A pause. A sharp breath.

    ¡°¡­A million¡­¡±

    Himari¡¯s skin prickled.

    ¡°How long has she been going on like this?¡± she asked.

    Belle-Anne exhaled through her nose. ¡°Thirty, maybe forty minutes.¡± Her glasses caught the weak hallway light, the lenses fogged just enough to hide whatever it was her eyes were really searching for.

    Bri had her hands clamped on both sides of her head, fingers digging deep into her temples, her shoulders trembling. That¡ªmore than the muttering¡ªwas what unsettled Himari.

    ¡°¡­Okay, what the fuck?¡± Himari stepped forward, voice firm. ¡°Bri¡ª¡±

    A hand gripped her shoulder. Hard.

    Himari jolted. ¡°Huh?¡±

    Belle-Anne didn¡¯t let go. Her grip was cold, tense. ¡°I¡¯ve known Bri for years, and I¡¯ve never seen her like this.¡± Her voice was quiet, controlled, but there was something in it. Something careful. ¡°We should¡­ maybe we should¡ª¡±

    Himari sneered, shaking Belle-Anne off. ¡°And what?¡± she spat. ¡°Turn her in? Have her marked as undesirable? A bad creation?¡± The words burned on her tongue. ¡°Hell no. The witches ordered her into that tank. They told her to root around Henryk¡¯s head. And now¡ª¡±

    Belle-Anne sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡°I get what you¡¯re saying, I do. But maybe the senior witches can help. You know they¡¯re different from the old heads.¡±

    Himari exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. ¡°Okay. Okay. You make a good point.¡± Her fingers pressed against her forehead. ¡°I¡¯ll go in.¡±

    She stepped through the doorway.

    ¡°Bri¡­ Bri¡­¡±

    Bri¡¯s head snapped up. Not just turned¡ªsnapped, like something mechanical and wrong. Her back had already been hunched in an unnatural arch, and when she fell flat against the mattress, her limbs folded like a marionette¡¯s strings had been cut.

    Her eyes¡ªso white, so empty¡ªstared up at Himari.

    Then she yanked the blanket over herself.

    ¡°Himari.¡± Bri¡¯s voice came from beneath it, muffled but sharp. ¡°Please. Leave me alone.¡±

    Himari¡¯s breath hitched.

    ¡°Bri, please,¡± she tried again, softer now. ¡°You can tell us what¡¯s going on¡­¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    A tremble in her voice. A crack in her words.

    Tears.

    ¡°Bri, there isn¡¯t anything you can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Belle-Anne¡¯s voice came soft, reaching, but Bri cut her off before the words could fully form.

    ¡°¡­This is.¡±

    Her voice was small, broken. A sniffle followed, the sound muffled beneath the covers. From where Himari stood, she could see Bri shaking her head, trembling so hard it made the mattress creak beneath her.

    ¡°I never should¡¯ve done it,¡± Bri whispered. ¡°I never should¡¯ve helped them. The witches¡ªI¡ªI just wanted to impress them. Wanted to¡ª¡± Her breath caught. ¡°I was so fucking stupid.¡± The words bled out through choked sobs as she slammed her fist into the mattress, over and over, like she was trying to punish herself for something that couldn¡¯t be undone.

    ¡°Bri¡­¡± Belle-Anne stepped further in, one hand raised, hesitant. ¡°Please, just talk to us. We¡¯re your friends. It¡¯s our job to¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it,¡± Bri snapped, her voice rising, tight with something brittle and ugly. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t get it. What I saw inside Henryk¡¯s head¡ªwhat that thing did to me¡ª¡±

    She stopped.

    Her breath hitched, turned shallow, scraping against the air like something sharp and broken. Her eyes darted, flicking, roving over the room in frantic loops.

    ¡°Bri?¡± Himari called, stepping closer. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What are you looking at?¡±

    Bri exhaled, but the sound was deathly. It had weight, like the air had turned thick with something unseen.

    ¡°¡­I can¡¯t.¡±

    The words barely left her lips before her gaze locked onto the far wall, frozen, eyes dilated in a terror neither of them could see.

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    Her breath hitched again¡ªdeeper, heavier¡ªher body tensing as though something unseen were drawing near.

    Only she could see it.

    Then she spoke again, voice thin and unraveling. ¡°After what happened with Henryk, that thing¡ªit attacked me like some parasite and I¡ª¡±

    Bri¡¯s words cut off. A violent gasp tore from her throat as her body lurched, her fingers digging into the sheets like she was trying to hold onto something¡ªanything.

    ¡°Bri!¡± Himari bolted forward.

    Bri thrashed, clawing at herself, at the air, at the nothing that wrapped invisible tendrils around her.

    ¡°Christ¡ªBelle-Anne, get someone!¡± Himari shouted, throwing herself onto the bed, arms locking around Bri¡¯s convulsing form.

    Bri spasmed, eyes wide, pupils blown.

    ¡°I see him¡ªI see him!¡± she shrieked. ¡°The Purple-Eyed Executor! The Druid of House Mars! A million sons¡ª!¡±

    Tears streaked down her face as Himari clutched her tighter, desperate to keep her from throwing herself to the floor.

    ¡°A million sons false¡ªtwo true!¡±

    Bri¡¯s voice cracked into something hysterical, her lips peeling into a manic grin as she raised clawed fingers toward the moonlight.

    ¡°All hail Henryk!¡± She laughed then¡ªa ragged, broken sound that sent ice down Himari¡¯s spine. ¡°All hail a Druid Knight of House Mars!¡±

    The door slammed open.

    Belle-Anne was already running, racing down the corridor, calling for help. But the damage had been done.

    Other girls¡ªfirst-years, seniors, half-dressed and groggy¡ªwere stepping into the hall, rubbing sleep from their eyes, only to snap awake at the sound of Bri¡¯s screaming.

    And when they saw her¡ªsaw her wild, raving, prophetic madness¡ªthe words hit them like a thunderclap.

    ¡°All hail the Druid Knight.¡±

 Chapter 17 - Outdoor Boy, Outdoor Girl

    <u>Joseph</u>

    After the Xeno Wars, humanity was no longer the same.

    Worlds once deemed inhospitable were now thriving, reshaped by technologies that bent nature to mankind¡¯s will. It sparked an exodus unlike any in history¡ªmass migration, mass birthing, expansion on a scale once thought impossible. What had once been the fever dreams of science fiction could now be held in the palm of one¡¯s hand.

    That was how Joseph managed to put it all on the House¡¯s card and buy himself a small transport vessel.

    It wasn¡¯t much. Big enough to carry one or two Warcaskets, a crew of four¡ªcomfortable, if you weren¡¯t picky. And, if they got lucky, it had a special little compartment just for stashing the booty.

    If they got lucky.

    Two days into the journey, and they were in the zone.

    Joseph¡¯s fingers tightened on the control stick, steady as he maneuvered the ship through the asteroid field. The controls buzzed faintly beneath his grip, a constant vibration, like the ship itself was murmuring secrets to him.

    August sat beside him, staring out into the void, wide-eyed behind the milky-white lenses of his glasses. Starlight spilled through them, refracting like liquid silver, his gaze drinking in the abyss beyond the viewport.

    ¡°How much longer?¡± August asked, voice hushed.

    Joseph gave a slight shrug, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. ¡°We¡¯re in the coordinates Bea gave us,¡± he said.

    August kept staring, his head slowly tilting as if trying to take in the vastness of it all.

    Joseph shot him a look. Then returned his gaze to the controls.

    Then shot him another look¡ªthis time, smirking.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never been out in space much, have you?¡±

    August jolted, stiffening as his hands curled into his lap. ¡°O-only twice. No¡ªthree times,¡± he corrected himself, counting on his fingers. ¡°The Fall of Mars. Leaving. Then heading to the Academy. And now.¡± He looked to Joseph, smiling at the confirmation¡ªonly for that smile to waver.

    ¡°H-how many times have you been out in space?¡± August asked.

    Joseph gave another nonchalant shrug. ¡°Same as you, more or less. The Fall of Mars, yeah, but I mostly stayed planet-side. Henryk actually left his world a couple of times for labor work, so we¡¯re not far off in numbers.¡±

    August exhaled, his head tilting back toward the viewport. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty¡­ So vast.¡±

    Joseph nodded. ¡°Not a bad trip.¡± He let a grin tug at the corner of his mouth, then playfully jabbed a fist into August¡¯s shoulder.

    August winced, rubbing the spot. ¡°Ow¡ªwhat was that for?¡±

    Joseph chuckled. ¡°Just saying¡ªwe haven¡¯t been attacked, robbed, or harassed. If we don¡¯t find anything, at least it wasn¡¯t a total disaster.¡±

    August blinked, then narrowed his eyes. ¡°Wait¡ªyou¡¯re telling me you¡¯d be fine if we don¡¯t find anything?¡±

    Joseph¡¯s grip on the controls loosened slightly.

    ¡°These are just rumors, August,¡± he said plainly. ¡°If Edward was here, he¡¯d have sent me and a couple of others to check it out first. The photo was on the damn dark web¡ªsomeone could¡¯ve made it up. Happens all the time.¡±

    ¡°Then why the hell are we here?¡± August asked, his voice edged with something dangerously close to doubt. ¡°Are we really risking our lives over a hunch?¡±

    Joseph sighed, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°I get what you¡¯re saying, but we needed to be sure it was just a rumor.¡± His expression darkened, shadows pooling beneath his eyes. ¡°Martian tech in the wrong hands¡ªmilitary tech¡ªit¡¯ll spread like a plague. Turn the universe inside out. If the mortals¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mortals.¡±

    August¡¯s voice cut through the air like a knife. He rarely interrupted, rarely sneered, but this time, he did both. And for a moment, silence stretched between them like a drawn wire.

    Joseph turned to him, eyes glinting. ¡°You got something to say?¡±

    August didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°You, Arthur, Isaac¡­ Axel a few times too. I¡¯ve noticed it. You call the others mortals.¡±

    Joseph tilted his head, almost amused. ¡°That¡¯s what they are, aren¡¯t they? Human.¡±

    August¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°¡­And what? You think we¡¯re not? The Spikes changed us, sure, but we¡¯re still human.¡± He pressed a thumb against his chest. ¡°My mother is mortal. She¡¯s human. Does that mean the woman who created me is less?¡±

    Joseph¡¯s gaze narrowed. ¡°She¡¯s Martian, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    August held his stare, his breathing slow, steady. ¡°¡­That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it? You and the others¡ªyou put people into these categories. Like¡ª¡± He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ¡°I don¡¯t hear you call Henryk and the others mortals. Rarely. Only when you¡¯re mad at them. Or when you¡¯re trying to discount them.¡±

    Joseph blinked, just once, and then¡ªslowly¡ªhe shook his head. But he didn¡¯t answer.

    August didn¡¯t press. He already had what he needed.

    Joseph leaned back, voice level. ¡°Back to your original point¡­ it¡¯s best to be sure.¡± His fingers tapped against the controls, absentminded. ¡°And besides, you¡¯re a Knight. You won¡¯t be doing much. Just letting the grunts do all the sand pounding.¡±

    August swallowed. ¡°I¡ªI know. I know I¡¯m not brave.¡±

    Joseph rolled his eyes. No shit. He¡¯d heard the others call him Fleeboy enough times to get the picture. Frankly? He was annoying as hell. Always second-guessing, always looking for answers that didn¡¯t exist.

    So Joseph scoffed. ¡°Then why the fuck did you join a House of warriors?¡±

    The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

    August¡¯s breath hitched, and for the first time, Joseph saw the shimmer of unshed tears at the corners of his lips.

    ¡°Because I wanted to understand who my father was.¡±

    The words weren¡¯t shouted¡ªbut they hit harder than if they had been.

    August¡¯s voice cracked, raw and exposed, like an old wound torn open. ¡°Is that really so hard to understand? He died when I was a toddler¡ªI don¡¯t have anything to hold onto!¡± His hands clenched, trembling against his knees. ¡°I had no father to teach me. No brother. No man-at-arms. My mother did the best she could¡ªdo you lot get that? She took me to a Midworld, and I studied and studied, and now I¡¯m back. With my brothers. Is that really so wrong?¡±

    Joseph was silent.

    Because August was right.

    And of all people, he had no place to speak.

    He had a father¡ªold, sure, but still skilled enough to train his son in the ways of the Knight. Unknighted, yet a master in martial prowess. Axel had his uncle. Isaac had the MilAcademy. Even Arthur¡ªthough Joseph didn¡¯t know the details¡ªhad something.

    August had nothing.

    A bite of guilt gnawed at Joseph¡¯s gut, coiling into something dark. Loathing, not for August, but for himself. He was one of the most skilled fighters in the House, yet he had never once considered the weight of what August carried. The boy was a Knight in name. He had the Spikes. But he and Kieren both acted the same¡ªlike normal kids, granted divinity by sheer circumstance.

    They didn¡¯t understand the weight.

    But maybe that wasn¡¯t their fault.

    Joseph exhaled, forcing his grip to loosen on the controls. The blame wasn¡¯t on August. It was on them.

    His mind drifted back to Henryk. How many history lessons had he actually given the boy? Really given him? Before he even realized it, Arthur had been teaching him like they still lived in the feudal era.

    But Henryk had never cared for the history. Not the lessons, not the speeches. The boy cared about his music and his swords.

    Joseph¡¯s mind jumped to the others¡ªKieren, the resentment he held for Henryk¡¯s anti-magic blood. Wilbur, Franklin, Mateo¡ªhalf the time, Joseph still got their names mixed up, despite knowing them for months. And hell, did Ed even know what they were doing? Joseph was 99% sure he didn¡¯t. Worse, he had a gut-deep feeling that Ed didn¡¯t care.

    They didn¡¯t shine like Henryk. And now, with Kieren¡¯s ascension¡­ Ed was keeping placeholders. Warm bodies. Ill-trained, normal kids.

    They¡¯d been playing favorites.

    Giving Henryk privileges¡ªsmall ones, sure, but enough. And the truth was, Henryk didn¡¯t even know the basics of chivalry. He knew the power of a rifle, but not the weight of his own history.

    That had to change.

    August. Kieren. Mateo. Wilbur. Franklin. Henryk. All of them.

    They had to learn who they truly were. How beautiful their culture was. The heroes who had fought and died protecting the weak and innocent. The planets saved at the cost of untold knightly lives.

    But then Joseph¡¯s thoughts turned to the Rubicon tapes.

    Was that all Henryk knew of their people?

    Not the martyrs. Not the saints. Not the men who had given everything in sacrifice. But their worst atrocities. Their darkest horrors.

    He turned, looking at August¡ªreally looking at him.

    They had failed him.

    They had failed all of them.

    They weren¡¯t training the squires properly. They weren¡¯t preparing them for what was coming. Kieren was leading Executor, or at least playing the role, but they needed to be ready. All of them.

    Or at the very least, they couldn¡¯t be a fish out of water like August was now.

    Joseph opened his mouth, but¡ª

    ¡°Watch out!¡±

    August¡¯s voice cracked the air, sharp with panic.

    Joseph¡¯s body moved before his mind caught up, hands snapping to the controls with vice-like precision. He yanked them back, slamming the brakes so hard the ship lurched.

    ¡°What the hell was that for!?¡± Joseph barked.

    August was breathing hard. His eyes glistened, wet tracks of tears slipping down his cheeks. ¡°You didn¡¯t see that!?¡±

    Joseph swore under his breath. ¡°See what?!¡±

    He flicked on the ship¡¯s forward beams, the floodlights slicing through the void.

    Nothing.

    Just empty, endless black.

    But it felt wrong.

    Even the stars¡ªfaint and distant¡ªlooked dead.

    Like they¡¯d slipped into the darker undercurrent of the universe.

    Joseph''s gaze swept across the void until he spotted a chunk of debris, half the size of a car. He knew that if their ship hit it, the most it would lead to was a scratch. He let out a relieved breath. "That''s what you were freaking out about?"

    August was about to respond, his eyes still teary and his voice stuttering, but instead, he looked down at his lap, his hands covering his face.

    Joseph chuckled, relieved. "We''re in a small ship, but this big guy is bulky. Small transports are no joke when we''re talking about this kind of deep space exploration."

    He sighed again, realizing that August''s reaction was just his nature. The kid was practically a fish out of water, and Joseph started to think maybe he was better off going solo.

    "W-what''s that?" August stuttered, pointing at the debris. "L-Look, there are words on it."

    Joseph''s eyes widened. August was right.

    "What do they say?" August pressed as Joseph''s gaze traced the hunk of metal. They had thought it was just random junk, but in zero-g, it turned slowly, revealing splayed metal that still sparked from a recent tear, painted with a dull red hue.

    "It''s Old Mars," Joseph murmured, his hands finding his chin, eyes narrowing. "Mars Invictus..." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "My old man would kick me on my backside. Heck, I give Henryk shit for history, but I can hardly read..."

    "Invictus... unconquered," August said, and Joseph''s eyes widened as he turned to him. "We know that Old Mars had its foundation in Roman Catholicism, Feudal Age Europe, and even the precipices of Golden Age Rome. Mars was the god of war, and he stayed as one, so... Mars... unconquered."

    "Mars stays unconquered," Joseph repeated, but August shook his head.

    "Mars unconquered," August corrected simply and deliberately. "Exactly like that, probably made before the fall."

    Joseph snorted, a wide, proud smile spreading across his face. Now, who was the trueblood? He might have understood combat, but August knew his history. "Where did you learn that from?" Joseph asked.

    August smiled lightly. "High School Latin," he admitted, averting his eyes with reddening cheeks. "I had to find a way to get into the academy somehow. Grades were just the easiest way, and hey... being a Martian had its perks."

    Joseph was silent for a moment, then he smirked and ruffled August''s hair roughly. "You''re a save, it''s got to be here then!" he shouted, releasing August swiftly as the boy started to maneuver the controls.

    Joseph''s mind was churning. Earlier, he had thoughts of diminishing Fleeboy... August. But he was wrong, just like his comrades. He would have bumped right into that piece of debris, shredded it beneath his machine, but August spotted it... read it. Now, they...

    Both young men''s smirks widened as they saw a shadow in the distance, amidst a haze of lingering debris. The area around it sparked with wild, thunderbolt currents of electricity that bathed their smiles in rich purples and blues as the massive monolith emerged.

    A football field-sized ship, its damage evident, worn and torn. But even now, with electricity veiling it, Old Mars still reeked of power. Even out here.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    <u>Piper</u>

    The scent of fresh grass enveloped Piper, a comforting balm that made her curl the blanket tighter around herself. She sniffled, faint tears welling in her eyes. The farmhouse, the tractor, the grass¡ªit all mirrored her world so closely. For a fleeting moment, caught between the haze of dreams and wakefulness, she saw her father and mother, smiling at her. She knew it was a dream then; her father never smiled like that.

    Her eyes slowly widened, the servos in her prosthetic opening a fraction of a second quicker than the other. A small difference, but telling. The gray mechanical eye, with its intricate, microscopic detail, was a top-notch camera, the pinnacle of prosthetics. Bionics reigned supreme now, no more plastic limbs. Yet, she was still just a normal girl.

    Piper yawned into her fist, her eyes fluttering open. All around her was a sea of green and tree trunks. She knew a river flowed behind her, but she lay on her side, the remnants of a fire smoldering nearby. Above, gray clouds were pierced by the early morning sun.

    Yawning again, she pushed the blanket off and rose, pausing as she observed Henryk. He was nestled atop a rock, the butt of his rifle planted in the dirt, his left hand gripping the barrel for balance. In his other hand rested a combat knife. His head was bowed, a mound of hair falling freshly across his face.

    "Hen...," Piper began, but then she noticed the beasts surrounding them. Three of them, scorched from laser fire or deeper blasts she couldn''t quite place. Creatures with multiple legs like centipedes or frog legs, some with wings, others slithering. And Henryk had killed them all.

    He had grown stronger.

    Piper swallowed hard. "Henryk," she called, her voice firmer. Henryk swayed slightly, his hands slipping off his weapons and onto his knees as he slumped forward, nearly toppling off the rock. His eyes snapped open as he fell onto all fours.

    His head turned sharply towards her, and Piper clutched the blanket. His eyes, his features, were tense¡ªeyes narrowed, teeth clenched. She saw both the animal and the man.

    "Piper."

    And she saw the young man she had fallen for. Through the blood, muck, and mud, he looked at her, and through closed lips, he bore that smile she felt was reserved just for her, though Iman felt the same way too.

    "How did you sleep?" Henryk asked, breathless, using his wrist to wipe the fatigue from his eyes.

    Piper sighed, catching the sarcasm in his voice. "Peachy," she replied. "How long was I out?"

    Henryk sighed, rising to gather his scattered weapons. "Not too long. We crashed a couple of miles from the fortress. It was a hard landing, and you were out cold in your Warcasket when I found you..."

    Piper''s eyes widened. The prototype¡ªif it worked, she''d need to mainline it. Did that mean Henryk... he had to... She could see it in his face.

    Yet, Henryk didn''t ask, not yet at least. But Piper knew him well enough by now. He didn''t let things go half-baked; he finished the job, for better or worse.

    Henryk must have taken her silence as a cue to continue. "...comms are down for both our Warcaskets. I was poking around yours, trying to get it to work, but I couldn''t... mine is completely fried."

    "Fried?" Piper echoed. "I thought I protected it well enough."

    Henryk shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. "The damage was superficial at first. When we were breaching the atmosphere, somewhere along the line, my servos or whatever got fried."

    Piper nodded. "When I was testing the prototype, that was something the others in my squad complained about¡ªentering the atmosphere with a Warcasket is a tough nut to crack."

    Henryk nodded, and for a moment, silence settled between them. Then he lifted his gaze to her and smirked. "Well, maybe you can tell me more about it," he said, extending a hand. "...it''s quite the machine, and maybe you can tell me over breakfast."

    Piper''s eyes widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks, but she sighed. "I can''t reach out to my squadmates. Where are we planning on going?"

    She took Henryk''s hand, and he helped her up. For a moment, she swayed, and he was ready to steady her, but she smiled and held up a hand¡ªshe was fine. He smiled back.

    "There''s a fortress, Martian-occupied..." Henryk hesitated, and Piper watched him with those doe-like eyes, her smile unwavering. He gulped. They hadn''t spoken in a month, but another thought nagged at him¡ªEd''s warnings about sharing house business. Piper was still an ace of House Mercury, friend, or whatever they were now after what happened in Biancia''s...

    Henryk shook his head, causing Piper to raise an eyebrow. She was Piper, he reminded himself. He had maimed her, and she had forgiven him. They had fought side by side, killed side by side... and that time in the restaurant.

    "Let me cook you something nice," Henryk said, gesturing for her to follow. "Let''s tear down camp and pack everything up. I''m sure you''ll want to check out your mobile suit before we head over there."

    Piper nodded. "...and I''ll be safe if I go there with you?" she asked.

    Henryk placed a hand on his chest. "With my life and honor," he declared.

    Piper chuckled. "With your life, yes, your honor..." She laughed, pressing a finger to his forehead. "Your honor, you''re no knight, Henryk Brown. Just some normal man." She smiled, blushing at the contact, then shoved her hands into her pockets, turning her face away to hide her reddening cheeks.

    She started to walk toward the matted, destroyed trees, then turned back. "Well then, lead the way, Sir Brown," she said, her voice smug but tinged with vulnerability.

    Henryk took a deep breath, reminding himself to play it cool, repeating it a million times in his head. Yet, he could hear Piper''s laughter as she realized just how quickly he was the one chasing after her.

    <u>Marcus</u>

    "Real sad to see the old place go down like this," Marcus said somberly to Margaret, loading the last of her posters into a cardboard box.

    Margaret''s sigh was heavy, her hands coming up to cover her face. "This is what happens when the ace gets demoted."

    Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You mean what happens when people freeload off the ace," he said, giving her a gentle nudge. Margaret stayed silent for a moment.

    "I get Zephyr¡¯s problem," Margaret finally spoke, "but sending Piper to deal with the rejects is just a waste of her talent and skills. Why is she out there dealing with the Oceana cleanup crew when we have enemies at the academy and out in the galaxy?"

    Marcus whistled. "Man, you really don¡¯t want to give up this room!" he hollered.

    Margaret rolled her eyes. "I was getting really used to our private bathroom and not having to share with two other people," she said, her hand going to her face. "It was so nice, not having to worry about other people¡¯s opinions and other matters. Me and Piper just click, you know."

    "Yeah, I feel ya," Marcus said, his eyes widening as if he was about to say something more, but he held back.

    Just like me and Lucas...

    Margaret sighed. "When is Henryk going to come back?" she asked.

    Marcus scratched the back of his head. "W-why does it matter?" he replied.

    "Aren¡¯t you guys friends or something?" she pressed.

    Marcus shrugged. "Henryk is a cool guy, but he can be busy and he¡¯s got his own things going on. I don¡¯t really want to..." He shrugged again. "I don¡¯t really want to bother him. I know he knows about Lucas and..."

    The door clicked open behind them. Both Marcus and Margaret fell silent, and Marcus was grateful that Margaret caught the vibe.

    Anderson walked in, carrying his own cardboard box in one hand and a luggage carrier in the other, a wide smile on his face. Behind him trailed someone else.

    The newcomer was dark-skinned, with short, faintly afro-textured hair. He was short but very muscular, his uniform hugging his frame tightly. A small beard framed his mouth.

    "Oh, you guys are still moving out?" Anderson asked.

    Marcus shook his head. "Nah, we just finished up the last of her stuff. I''m just going to take this last box, and you should be good to go."

    "Thanks, man," Anderson said, his gaze drifting toward Margaret. He scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes. "Listen, Margaret, I really hope there¡¯s no..."

    "Water under the bridge," Margaret said, waving both hands dismissively. "I¡¯m happy and proud that you got this promotion."

    Anderson beamed. "Listen, I¡¯ve led a couple of successful operations. It¡¯s no big deal."

    Marcus smirked. "If you weren''t so good at leading people, they probably would''ve given you the room as an ace."

    Anderson didn''t laugh, but his smile lingered. "Much appreciated, Marcus," he said, lifting his gaze with a fire of determination in his eyes. "But there can only be one ace for House Mercury, right?"

    Both Marcus and Margaret fell silent, then nodded¡ªMargaret with determination, Marcus with a hint of hesitation.

    "Who''s your friend?" Margaret asked.

    "Oh, you haven''t met him," Anderson said, placing a firm hand on his friend''s back. "This is my boy Jamar."

    "What''s good," Jamar greeted, fist-bumping both Marcus and Margaret.

    "Where did you guys come from before the promotion?" Margaret inquired.

    Both Anderson and Jamar''s expressions darkened. Jamar answered, "I know Anderson was crammed in with eight to ten guys in one room on the first floor."

    "Christ!" Marcus exclaimed, his laughter a mix of disbelief and amusement.

    "Marcus!" Margaret scolded. "This is not the time or place..."

    "It just gets worse every year," Marcus said, throwing his hands up. "We''re not even supposed to have that many people in one room," he gritted out.

    Jamar sighed. "You think that''s bad? Anderson''s my best bud," he said, pausing to give Anderson a reassuring fist bump. "He got me out of the basement and is moving me up. Thanks for being his comrades and looking out for him in battle."

    Margaret and Marcus exchanged a stunned glance, then nodded with a smile.

    "Thank you, but Anderson carries his own weight in battle. We just support," Marcus said with a smile, and Margaret''s smirk mirrored his sentiment.

    The door closed behind them as Marcus carried the cardboard box, maneuvering through the top floors of the House Mercury dorm.

    "Is it spoiled to say I''m going to miss it?" Margaret asked.

    "You''re only human. It''s natural to be disappointed that it''s ending," Marcus replied, his vision partially obscured by the box as he tried to keep track of Margaret''s black hair, but he lost sight of it.

    He always lost track of her.

    "He wasn''t wrong, though," Margaret''s words echoed in his mind. "About Piper. When her disciplining ends¡ªand it will end soon¡ªshe''s going to come back here and run this place better than it was before."

    "Run this place better than it was before?" Marcus repeated. "Piper isn''t a leader. A warrior, maybe, but..."

    "And that''s where you''re wrong," Margaret interjected. "Piper has the potential to be a leader. That''s what Zephyr wants from her, why he put her in that position after Lucas passed away." Her expression darkened. "She''s going to come back. And I know she''ll be twice as strong."

    They descended the stairs in silence for a moment before Marcus broke it. "What''s your opinion on Anderson... and Sarah, if you don''t mind me asking?"

    Margaret chuckled. "If I mind you asking?" she repeated. "Whatever," she waved off.

    She took a deep breath. "Sarah''s an alright girl. She was trained at a military academy, but it wasn''t one of those messed-up ones, so she didn''t come out messed up."

    "Just enough to mess things up," Marcus finished with a grin.

    Margaret cracked a smile as she continued. "She''s good in a Warcasket and knows how to move people around. Anderson, he seems like a pretty good guy," she paused, counting on her fingers. "He''s skilled in a Warcasket, well-trained, but he had a normal life on a MidWorld. He''s funny, good at ordering people around, managing them, and..."

    "Well, maybe I should be a bit more specific..." Marcus began as they made their way to Margaret''s floor. She opened the door for him. "It''s just, the way Anderson talked about Piper just now. I didn''t realize he was so..."

    "He looks up to her a lot," Margaret said, not turning, leading the way. "He knows a lot about her exploits, but I also think..."

    She paused, turning, and Marcus saw those beautiful brown eyes of hers. The ones that seemed to see every flaw and love them all the same.

    "I-I... I also think it''s love," Margaret said with a smile.

    Marcus sighed, shaking his head slightly. "So, we''ve got another suitor for Piper," he chuckled, moving to walk beside her.

    Margaret made a face. "What do you mean by another suitor?"

    "Come on, Marge," Marcus said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Piper isn''t superstar famous, but she''s quite well-known. There have been guys from our house and others... and she''s turned them all down. I don''t think she swings that way... but she''s definitely got her priorities on her Warcasket."

    Margaret was silent for a moment. "You''ve got a point. Piper was always more interested in her machines. I know, after the issue with her dad she..."

    Marcus turned to her.

    "It''s nothing crazy. I think Piper just wanted to avoid forming relationships, especially intimate ones. The only person she was open to was..."

    Margaret''s voice trailed off, her mind''s eye filled with the image of the Druid of House Mars, the only young man her best friend had ever set her sights on. A young man whose destiny was littered with the corpses of enemies and great beasts, of an order that would turn him into something beyond human. Could that man be a husband to her best friend, a lover, a father to her children? In that feudal society... he could break her...

    But Anderson, he was tall, dark-haired, and broad-shouldered. Could he be a... Henryk?

    "So, you wouldn''t think it would be cute if Piper came back and had someone? Like, after losing Lucas, we got together to help us... maybe Piper needs someone to ground her," Margaret said, opening the door to an empty room.

    Margaret smiled as Marcus laid the box on the bed.

    ¡°T-That wasn¡¯t exactly¡­¡± Marcus¡¯s voice trailed off, his hand running down his face. ¡°We did things at the party. I know that you really like me¡­¡±

    ¡°I do!¡± Margaret spoke as she pressed herself into his arms, forcing her way there. She gazed up at him, fluttering her lashes. He tried to avert his eyes, but she knew he never really would.

    ¡°Relationships at the academy can get messy,¡± Margaret murmured, her expression softening as she dipped her head. ¡°When you were gone, I was so sad, so worried and scared¡­¡±

    ¡°We weren¡¯t dating, Margaret. There was no commitment. If I died, I didn¡¯t want you to¡ª¡± Marcus began, but Margaret¡¯s head shook wildly, flinging tears across her face.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t want that!¡± she shouted. ¡°I knew you¡¯d come back. There are people like you, Anderson, Piper¡ªpeople that can go out there and come back.¡±

    She took a heavy breath, lowering herself to her knees as she started to unbuckle Marcus¡¯s pants.

    ¡°Piper got drunk when we all thought Henryk was going to leave. What a liar,¡± she muttered, rolling her eyes.

    ¡°H-Hey,¡± Marcus started to protest, ready to defend Henryk, but Margaret¡¯s tantalizing touch along his shaft killed the words in his throat.

    She adopted a different kind of voice, innocent and high, like a storyteller about to begin a tale.

    ¡°She tried to initiate, but Henryk practically pushed himself off of her.¡±

    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t know that. I figured that Piper and him¡­ like, the way she looked at him sometimes, I thought¡ª¡±

    Margaret slobbered along his cock, tracing her tongue along the curves of the tip as Marcus collapsed breathlessly onto the bed.

    ¡°I¡¯m Piper¡¯s best friend,¡± Margaret murmured through a mouthful. ¡°She needs a man to ground her, and that man isn¡¯t going to be Henryk. Look at how she acted after he rejected her¡ªshe crashed out. She needs someone else. Someone better.¡±

    Marcus exhaled a heavy breath. ¡°M-Margaret, I get what you mean¡­ Iman and Henryk were on each other.¡±

    Margaret¡¯s eyes widened, a smile darting across her lips. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but Piper is her own person. And if she was drunk¡­ Henryk didn¡¯t do it to Hannah. It was just a rotten freaking rumor,¡± Marcus sighed. ¡°You can¡¯t get mad at him for rejecting Piper when she was drunk. He did nothing wrong by not taking advantage of her.¡±

    Margaret rolled her eyes, but she kept going.

    ¡°¡­Listen, Henryk is probably into Iman, and Piper has this strange hyperfixation on him, so¡­¡±

    Margaret released his cock from her mouth with a loud pop. ¡°Before, you told me you wanted to come in my mouth¡­ I didn¡¯t want you to, but¡­¡± She took a deep breath and went back to it.

    Marcus¡¯s head sank into the pillow, his mind wrecked with bliss.

    ¡°So help me save my best friend¡­ and get her with someone that will really, really care about her.¡±

    And then, Marcus released.

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Breaking camp didn¡¯t take long. It had been thrown together in a rush after Henryk pulled Piper from her Warcasket¡ªa model he was certain he¡¯d never seen before.

    The walk had been longer than he expected, but he¡¯d learned a thing or two from the Sons of Mars¡ªchief among them, water was the backbone of any good campsite. So, he moved them another five minutes up, closer to a thin stream that cut through the rock.

    ¡°How you feeling up there?¡± Henryk called out.

    Piper¡¯s Warcasket was still in that strange, belly-down position, its mechanized limbs folded beneath it like a discarded shell. The damn thing looked like it had collapsed mid-stride, now serving as a makeshift perch. Piper stood atop it with no real support, her only anchor the steady grip of her own two feet. Her orange pilot suit ruffled in the wind, zipper slightly undone at the top, a small break from its usual airtight seal. Her mismatched eyes¡ªone green, one grey¡ªwere locked on the machine¡¯s surface, staring at it like she could read something in its metal skin that Henryk couldn¡¯t.

    For a moment, she said nothing. Then, shaking whatever thoughts lingered from her head, she gripped the handrails and started to descend.

    Halfway down, she stopped.

    From up here, she had a clear view of the landscape below¡ªblackened skies, a horizon smeared with rising smoke.

    ¡°Is that¡­?¡± Her voice trailed off.

    Henryk followed her gaze, then tipped his head back down to the pot, stirring its contents with the scrape of his knife. ¡°Oh, that?¡± he said, voice easy, like he was commenting on the weather. ¡°Like I told you, we¡¯re close. Half a day¡¯s walk, maybe a full one if we¡¯re careful. And best believe we should be. When night falls, those things come out.¡±

    Piper gulped. ¡°What¡­ things?¡± She finally hit the ground, dusting off her hands as she made her way over.

    Henryk shrugged, setting out two bowls. ¡°Nothing I¡¯ve seen before. Nothing I¡¯ve heard of either. But they don¡¯t look like GrimGar, so I¡¯m assuming they¡¯re just¡­ animals.¡±

    Piper frowned. ¡°Animals?¡± she echoed. ¡°More like freaks.¡±

    Henryk shrugged again. ¡°I know you¡¯re from a real comfy MidWorld¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey! What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    Henryk only smirked, leading her back toward the fire. Piper followed, rolling her eyes but grinning despite herself.

    ¡°So, what did you make, chef?¡± she asked.

    Henryk chuckled. ¡°Tonight¡¯s menu features a special: ¡®Spagatto¡¯ with ground beef, courtesy of our MRE survival rations.¡±

    ¡°Peachy,¡± Piper muttered.

    ¡°Yeah, real interesting that both the Mercurians and the Martians get their MREs from the same supplier.¡± Henryk ladled a portion into her bowl, then lifted the lid off the pot. Steam billowed up, carrying the smell of over-processed tomato paste and salt.

    ¡°¡­And now, for a little magic,¡± he said, grinning.

    Piper¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°Bad joke?¡± Henryk tested.

    But Piper¡¯s grin only stretched wider, wicked and wild. ¡°Show me magic, druid,¡± she challenged.

    Henryk chuckled as he dug into his pocket, and Piper¡¯s mind flashed through all the moments of magic he had conjured before. The fight with Jose. Her fight. That wonderful blast of yellow electricity¡ªwas he going to zap it? Delectiso! Would he cast a spell?

    But when he pulled out two small vials, she nearly doubled over laughing. One was half-full of fine white powder, the other packed with something dark and grainy.

    She already knew what they were.

    Henryk sprinkled a light dusting of salt and pepper into the pot, then reached for a third vial.

    ¡°What¡¯s that one?¡± she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.

    ¡°A bit of garlic powder,¡± Henryk said, tearing open a crumpled piece of aluminum foil. He tapped a small amount into the pot and stirred.

    The moment the scent hit her, Piper was reminded¡ªpainfully¡ªthat she hadn¡¯t eaten in over a day. Her stomach let out an audible groan, and her mouth filled with saliva.

    ¡°How¡¯d you learn to cook?¡± she asked.

    Henryk¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°First of all, I have no idea why you burst out laughing like that. Secondly, my boss taught me.¡±

    ¡°At Biancia¡¯s?¡± Piper asked.

    ¡°Biancia,¡± Henryk confirmed.

    Piper giggled. ¡°She named the place after herself.¡±

    Henryk nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what I figured, but there¡¯s always a story behind restaurants. Maybe I¡¯ll ask her one of these days.¡±

    Piper laughed as Henryk started scooping food into their bowls. ¡°Honestly, if I had to deal with running a restaurant and putting up with customers¡¯ bullshit all day, I¡¯d name the place after myself too.¡±

    She shoveled a big chunk of food into her mouth¡ªthen immediately spat it back into her bowl.

    ¡°Oh my God, it¡¯s so freaking hot!¡± she coughed, nearly gagging. ¡°Water, please, water!¡±

    Henryk collapsed onto the ground, howling with laughter, nearly knocking over the pot in the process. Still chuckling, he tossed her a cool bottle.

    ¡°Relax,¡± he said, still grinning. ¡°It¡¯s filtered. I flavored it with one of those electrolyte drink packets.¡±

    Piper grabbed it, chugging it down in seconds before gasping for breath and wiping her face.

    They waited for the food to cool.

    The silence settled between them, comfortable, as they sat under the sun with the wind whispering through the canyons. The light hit Piper just right¡ªwarm and golden, catching the curve of her cheek, the way her hair shifted in the breeze.

    She had never looked more beautiful.

    No.

    She had looked more beautiful that night, with her breasts spilling from her bra.

    Henryk had thought about it every night for the last thirty days.

    He hadn¡¯t watched a single second of pornography. Instead, he had burned that moment into his memory, playing it over and over in his head. He had relived it in the shower, letting the water wash over him as he replayed the scene, over and over again.

    Rewinding. Changing details. Imagining different endings.

    But deep down, he knew it was wrong. Piper had been drunk. Sure, she might have wanted it in the moment, but she hadn¡¯t been thinking clearly.

    He had made the right choice.

    But a different part of him¡ªthe part that craved¡ªstill wanted to fall.

    Not just for Piper.

    He took another bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°You know, you¡¯ve got a point,¡± he said through a mouthful.

    Piper¡¯s mismatched eyes flicked up at him.

    Henryk looked at his spork, then at her.

    ¡°Piper¡¯s,¡± he said, twirling the utensil between his fingers. ¡°I¡¯d eat there every day.¡±

 Chapter 18 - Mission Briefing

    Chapter 18 - Mission Briefing

    <hr>

    <u>Zephyr</u>

    ¡°Madam President, I assure you that everything here and in the Oceana Sector is being handled accordingly,¡± Zephyr stated.

    He sat stiffly behind his desk, the glow of his large monitor casting a pale light over his face. On the screen, the woman regarded him with a cool, practiced stare. Grey streaks cut through her dark hair, and behind her, the Mercurian flag hung rigid, unmoving, framed by a black window. Zephyr had the same scene behind him¡ªa reminder that, in moments like these, power was nothing more than a reflection of who controlled the conversation.

    ¡°Your report mentioned an incident,¡± she said. Her brow tightened, sharp eyes pinning him in place.

    Zephyr chuckled, though it came out more awkward than he intended.

    He prided himself on order. He ran a tight ship. Things didn¡¯t just explode under his watch. And yet¡ªbetween Piper¡¯s tantrums, the day-to-day chaos of running this operation, and the absolute disaster Henryk¡¯s arrival had triggered¡ªeverything around him felt like it was unraveling.

    He cleared his throat, nodding along. ¡°It appears a transport ship from¡­ House Mars¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, I read about it.¡± Her voice cut clean through his explanation. ¡°I was surprised you allowed them entry, Zephyr.¡±

    A bead of sweat formed on his brow.

    ¡°Their papers were green,¡± he explained. ¡°That¡¯s what I was told all day. Someone Empirical got them here. There¡¯s nothing I can do about wider galaxy law.¡±

    The President of Mercury exhaled slowly, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on her shoulders. She rose from her desk, turning toward the window, arms crossed as she looked out into the void beyond.

    ¡°My apologies, Zephyr,¡± she said at last. ¡°I know you¡¯re doing your best. But I fear this swift takeover of Oceana won¡¯t be as straightforward as we imagined.¡±

    Zephyr was silent for a moment. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    She sighed, still looking out the window. ¡°Lately, the galaxy has been paying far more attention to what¡¯s happening in Oceana 4.¡±

    ¡°The Grimgar infestation,¡± Zephyr noted.

    ¡°That too.¡± She turned back to the console, her expression unreadable. ¡°But I was talking about the Neptunians, the Pirates, the Mercurians¡­ and now, Martians are getting involved?¡± She leaned in slightly. ¡°Zephyr, you¡¯re at the academy. House Mars¡ªhow do they look? Or rather¡­ how do they feel?¡±

    Zephyr hesitated. ¡°I¡ªapologies, Madam President, but I don¡¯t follow.¡±

    Her lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Zephyr, the only thing that held the Martians back from universal domination was the Emperor¡¯s Arc, promising them endless conquest.¡± She exhaled sharply, her eyes flickering with something between exhaustion and dread. ¡°What do you think happens when the Martians regain their full strength¡­ and they no longer have those loyalties?¡±

    Zephyr took a slow, measured breath. ¡°Honestly? The Martians at the academy are already a handful. Especially their president, Edward, and their Executor, Henryk.¡±

    The President¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°They¡¯ve already promoted another president?¡±

    Zephyr shrugged. ¡°Yeah. The house was vacant, but Ed and the others built it back up. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised they¡¯re still standing¡­ hell, I don¡¯t even know how they¡¯re getting missions.¡±

    The President said nothing. Her gaze drifted to the shadows pooling in the corners of her office, like something unseen was baiting her, pulling at the edges of her mind.

    ¡°We have bigger things to deal with,¡± she muttered, almost to herself. Then, her eyes snapped back to Zephyr. ¡°House Mars¡ªdo they seem loyal to the Emperor?¡±

    Zephyr hesitated.

    ¡°The Emperor?¡±

    The president nodded. ¡°They were mad dogs, but even mad, wild dogs still hold a place for their abusive masters,¡± she said, exhaling sharply. ¡°The nuclear destruction of Mars¡­ You were only children when it happened. None of you could truly comprehend the scale of it. But it wasn¡¯t just physical¡ªthe Eunuch Emperor wanted something more from them.¡±

    Zephyr furrowed his brow. ¡°What more could he take than an entire world?¡±

    The president sighed but waved the thought away. ¡°There¡¯s no point in worrying about that now. On the bright side, we¡¯ve managed to avoid much of the fallout from both the Grimgar attacks and the Neptunian occupation.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°So the universe is paying attention?¡±

    The president let out a dry chuckle. ¡°What have you been doing all day?¡±

    ¡°I just finished a six-hour exam,¡± Zephyr replied.

    She laughed again. ¡°Take a look online. Maybe it¡¯s the algorithm on Neo-YouTube, but there¡¯s a flood of news coverage now¡­¡±

    Zephyr clicked out of the tab and pulled up the search bar, typing in The Oceana Sector. The results loaded instantly¡ªarticles published hours ago, some mere seconds ago. He scrolled to Neo-Reddit, then Neo-Twitter, his breath hitching as he skimmed headlines.

    Displaced families. Burned-out cities. Roads scarred by blast craters. People, tens of thousands, forced to march for miles with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

    And then, one image stuck with him.

    A family of six, exhausted, barefoot, walking across a vast bridge. Behind them, others followed in an unbroken line of refugees stretching to the horizon. In the distance¡ªacross the gulf¡ªNeptunian Warcaskets smashed into the Oceana Planetary Militias, metal giants wading through the carnage like gods of war.

    Zephyr ran a hand down his face, sneering. ¡°So the Neptunians'' plan to make this quick backfired on them too,¡± he muttered. ¡°Hell, everything I¡¯m reading is practically shitting on our enemies.¡±

    The president nodded. ¡°There are women on there talking about what they¡¯ve endured at the hands of the Neptunian invaders. Countless men, women, and children have been killed in the crossfire of this guerrilla war. Oceana¡ªall four planets¡ªneeds order.¡±

    Zephyr exhaled slowly, nodding. ¡°¡­And we can give them that. I suppose that means there¡¯s growing support for a Mercurian occupation.¡±

    The president¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°The Senate and I will be speaking soon. I¡¯m thinking of assembling a formal joint operation between the Academy and the Mercurian military. If we hit them hard and fast¡­¡± She trailed off, then shook her head. ¡°We¡¯ve spent too long there. Exhausted too many people. The prize is too great. Even one planet as an agri-world would be beneficial.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s stomach turned. ¡°We¡¯re¡­ thinking of going to war?¡± he asked slowly. ¡°The Emperor¡ªwon¡¯t he interfere?¡±

    The president threw her head back and let out a sharp, boisterous laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that cockless bastard is doing,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°The whole universe is teetering on the edge. Don¡¯t forget¡ªa whole fleet. The most advanced fleet of Grimgar we¡¯ve ever seen has fled into the backwoods of the galaxy. We don¡¯t know where they went.¡±

    She gestured toward his screen. ¡°Keep looking at those articles. There are Grimgar remnants still out there.¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s pulse quickened. His eyes darted back to the feed, scanning the new headlines.

    Some had stayed behind.

    His breath hitched. ¡°Some stayed behind?¡±

    The president sighed. ¡°There¡¯s the Martian Militia, the Planetary Militia, and then, I suppose, us¡­ I want to meet with the other two¡ªespecially the Martian Militia. Do you think it would be possible for me to meet the president of House Mars?¡±

    Zephyr¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I can try to arrange something.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± she said, a small smile crossing her lips. ¡°We need more worlds with food. The Mercurian Sphere¡­ Say what you will about our history, but unlike Earth, we actually have true autonomy. We can¡¯t afford to lose it¡ªnot to overpopulation, not to famine.¡±

    Zephyr nodded, and she continued, her voice dipping into something more contemplative. ¡°Strange, though¡­ I wonder if this boy has ties to the royal family.¡±

    Zephyr shook his head. ¡°The whole Martian royal family was wiped out decades ago.¡±

    She exhaled, eyes still on the monitor, but Zephyr had the feeling her mind was elsewhere, chasing some long-buried thought. ¡°The Martians had a habit, same as the Neptunians¡­ Their presidents were usually sons of their kings. Groomed for power.¡±

    Zephyr stiffened. ¡°¡­Edward? A possible king?¡±

    She gave a small shrug. ¡°Like you said, their papers are green. And if the Emperor isn¡¯t going to press further¡ªif their punishment is simply shame and a dead planet¡ªthen they can still serve. They can still be useful.¡±

    And then, the smile. Not kind, not warm, but sharp as a blade.

    ¡°Zephyr,¡± she said, voice low and knowing. ¡°Have you ever heard of The Block?¡±

    Then the call ended.

    Zephyr leaned back in his chair, hands dragging down his face as her words echoed in his head. Outside, rain tapped against the glass, rhythmic, steady¡ªcomforting in its own way.

    He needed a drink.

    By the time he sat back down, whiskey dulling the edges of his thoughts, Jesus Gomez was already on screen. His beret lay to the side of his webcam, his eyes hollow with exhaustion.

    ¡°That engagement must¡¯ve worn you and your guys out,¡± Zephyr muttered, pouring another finger of whiskey into his glass.

    Jesus nodded, a bead of sweat sliding down his brow.

    ¡°The president wants us to move¡ªbackward or forward, I¡¯m not even sure anymore.¡± Zephyr exhaled. ¡°You and your people are staying put. Keep running tests on the Martian Prototype.¡± He rubbed his temple, then looked back at Jesus. ¡°Speaking of which¡­ How¡¯s Piper?¡±

    A flicker of something unreadable passed over Jesus¡¯ face.

    Zephyr pressed on, the alcohol warming his thoughts, making his words looser. ¡°Pipes¡­ It¡¯s been a month.¡±

    Jesus nodded slowly. ¡°¡­Kind of crazy. Bottom brass told me they were sending a top ace my way.¡± A tired smirk crossed his face. ¡°The Red Rocket, the pride of the Mercurian Sphere. These hotheaded aces¡ªespecially Academy types¡ªare the worst when it comes to following orders¡­ but I¡¯ll give her this: the girl¡¯s got a knack for a Warcasket.¡±

    Zephyr let out a quiet chuckle, the kind that carried something heavier than humor. ¡°I still remember how she was¡ªscrawny, lost in that sea of recruits. Back then, the only way you could pick her out from the crowd was the grey of her undecided fatigues against the orange.¡±

    He let out a long breath.

    ¡°Damn, Jesus¡­ Look how she¡¯s grown.¡±

    Jesus sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. ¡°She¡¯s got a mean streak, but she¡¯s been marginally behaving herself.¡±

    ¡°Marginally,¡± Zephyr repeated, chuckling as he pointed at the screen, his cheeks flushed a warm red. ¡°You boys finally get to deal with her now. Handling the Michael Jordan of Warcaskets ain¡¯t exactly a cakewalk¡ªhard to believe she¡¯s not even twenty-five yet.¡±

    Jesus rolled his eyes, but then his expression grew serious. ¡°There¡¯s been talk among the ranks¡­ some of the soldiers think she¡¯s a Star Child, or a Homo-Magica, or whatever the hell they call ¡¯em these days.¡±

    Zephyr scoffed, dismissing it with a wave. ¡°Piper¡¯s just fast. Always has been. She¡¯s got something to prove¡ªhell if I know what it is¡ªbut it¡¯s what drives her to fight so damn hard¡­ especially for the Mercurian Sphere.¡±

    Jesus nodded, thoughtful. ¡°Yeah¡­ I can see that. Different from when we had the 34th attached to us,¡± he said, his fingers massaging his temples. ¡°That one¡­ the middle e-Muslim one?¡±

    Zephyr groaned loudly. ¡°That¡¯s pretty racist. She¡¯s descended from there, sure, but I don¡¯t know what part. Yeah, you got assigned Iman back then¡­ I almost forgot.¡±

    Jesus nodded, eyes clouding over with memory. ¡°You were leading the charge with Piper. That was a few months back, right?¡±

    ¡°Different sector,¡± Zephyr replied, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°The battle of Erhonda-2¡­ we lost a lot of good people to those machines.¡±

    Jesus grimaced, jaw tightening. ¡°We won the battle. Humanity vanquished another enigmatic race¡­ for the Emperor, right? Or the Eunuch Emperor. Whatever the fuck he is.¡±

    The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Such talk would elicit a censor, and Zephyr didn¡¯t need to say anything¡ªhis expression did the job well enough. Jesus knew he¡¯d overstepped but figured it wasn¡¯t worth apologizing. They were comfortable with each other, but even comfort had its limits.

    Zephyr cleared his throat, steering the conversation elsewhere. ¡°That¡¯s where Iman and Piper first met¡­ and I guess that¡¯s when their mean streak started.¡± He downed his drink in one gulp, letting the burn settle.

    Then, with a loud clap of his hands, Zephyr broke the tension. Jesus was certain now¡ªhe was drunk.

    ¡°All right. Piper¡¯s got a few more weeks left on suspension,¡± Zephyr said, voice carrying a touch of reckless determination. ¡°After that, she¡¯s back on duty. But I know it¡¯s bad protocol¡­ I want to talk to her.¡± His eyes burned with that familiar intensity.

    Jesus hesitated, taken aback. He¡¯d thought they were past this. Piper was supposed to be recovered along with the prototype¡ªthere was no reason to involve higher management now, right?

    Zephyr didn¡¯t give him time to argue. ¡°She¡¯s my friend,¡± he said, voice cracking at the edges. ¡°And she was right.¡± He let out a long, weary breath. ¡°There was someone at the academy¡­ You guys are out there in deep space almost year-round, so you wouldn¡¯t know. But there¡¯s been this¡­ presence, someone stirring up trouble. At the time, I thought he was just blowing smoke. I had him in my grasp¡ªcould¡¯ve brought him into the fold of Mercury, made him one of us. But I acted dishonorably. And I know¡­ I made the wrong choice.¡±

    Jesus swallowed hard, the words sinking in.

    ¡°Zephyr, I want to assure you that everything is under control,¡± Jesus said, his voice measured but strained.

    Zephyr just stared, his mind racing too fast to catch up. He managed a single word. ¡°Uh¡­ okay.¡±

    Jesus swallowed. ¡°Piper¡­ and the prototype. I sent them out on a test combat run. She had two wingmen for support. Everything was going fine¡ªtextbook, even¡ªbut we had to aid the Martians and¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait, the Martians?¡± Zephyr shot up from his chair, the sudden movement making the room sway. ¡°Where the hell is Piper right now!¡± he shouted.

    Jesus raised both hands, palms out like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. ¡°Zephyr, relax. Those guys'' numbers were green¡ªthey were supposed to be cleared. The Neptunians acted illegally on our territory. Piper¡¯s skilled like you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck that she¡¯s skilled,¡± Zephyr snarled, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles blanched. ¡°Where the hell is the prototype? Jesus, I swear to fucking God, if that thing¡¯s lost, it¡¯s your ass on the line!¡±

    Jesus just stared, expression blank and unmoving, like he¡¯d seen this storm before and knew better than to flinch.

    Zephyr scoffed bitterly, the words scraping out of him like gravel. ¡°God, it¡¯s fucking ironic¡ªtalking about Piper and Iman. Just another reminder of another goddamn failure staring me in the face,¡± he growled, jabbing a finger at the screen like it was Jesus¡¯s throat. ¡°Fix this. The president¡¯s talking about war¡ªa war between Neptune and maybe even Saturn. You did the right thing helping the Martians, but you made a grave mistake.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Silence settled, heavy and suffocating. Jesus didn¡¯t move.

    ¡°What?¡± Zephyr spat, swaying slightly, drunk and furious. ¡°You lose your nerve?¡±

    Jesus sneered, shaking his head, his eyes sharp and unyielding. ¡°Do I have permission to speak, sir?¡±

    Zephyr leaned back, barely holding his balance, and gestured vaguely.

    Jesus exhaled through his nose, like he was holding back a curse. ¡°The Martians don¡¯t like people fucking with their tech. What do you think most of those components on Piper¡¯s suit are?¡±

    Zephyr froze, his anger cooling to a bitter, sinking dread as the realization hit him. Jesus watched as his commanding officer¡¯s expression shifted, dread bleeding into frustration.

    ¡°They recover it¡­¡± Zephyr muttered, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Hell, the Sons of Mars at the academy would call her a witch. Fucking tech heresy!¡± He bit down on his rage, fists trembling at his sides. ¡°You should¡¯ve just let them get shot the hell down!¡±

    <u>Tyson</u>

    ¡°So, how¡¯d you guys end up with House Mars?¡± Tyson asked, his broad smile tight-lipped, eyes glinting with curiosity.

    The sun hung high over the academy grounds, baking the manicured lawns behind the grand manor of House Mars. Tyson, Franklin, and Wilbur stood shirtless, training swords either strapped to their hips or resting in their hands. Mateo was the odd one out, still wrapped in heavy trousers and training plate, his expression caught somewhere between determination and discomfort.

    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta learn how hits feel against bare skin,¡± Tyson said, giving Mateo a knowing look.

    Mateo just shook his head, jaw tight.

    Tyson smirked. ¡°Seriously, it¡¯s important. If you don¡¯t know how to handle or recognize pain, it won¡¯t matter how good you are with a blade. You need to feel it, take it, know it¡¯s not the end.¡±

    Mateo gave a reluctant nod, but his gaze stayed low. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna be like you homos, flashing myself to the world.¡±

    The group burst into laughter, Franklin wiping a tear from his eye. ¡°Damn, a bit rough, isn¡¯t it?¡± Wilbur chimed in from the side.

    Franklin was still chuckling as he waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Speak for yourself. Maybe you, but I¡¯ve had dozens of girls¡­¡± He closed his eyes, tipping his head back like remembering fond conquests.

    Mateo arched a brow, unimpressed. ¡°Oh really? What was her name?¡±

    Franklin¡¯s confidence faltered, his mouth opening and closing before he finally blurted out, ¡°Ugh¡­ Hazel.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow,¡± Ty drawled, elbowing Wilbur. ¡°What a name. Real memorable.¡±

    Franklin¡¯s face flushed, but he held his ground. ¡°She¡¯s the reason I¡¯m here. I come from a world not too far off. She only wants the best, and the academy offers that.¡± His hands fell to his sides, a wistful look crossing his face.

    Tyson raised a brow. ¡°But House Mars? You must¡¯ve heard of our shaming. Unlike Henryk, you guys are from the MidWorlds. You didn¡¯t have to pick us.¡±

    Franklin shrugged, glancing at his own calloused palms. ¡°¡­I know I¡¯m not the best shot. Hell, I hadn¡¯t even stepped into a Warcasket before the academy sims. But House Mars has a long history of honorable galactic service. Hazel¡­ she¡¯d love to be a princess¡ªno, a queen¡ªof my world.¡± A wistful, rosy smile spread across his face.

    Tyson snorted, giving Mateo a nod. ¡°What about you, lad?¡±

    Mateo¡¯s voice cracked slightly. ¡°Lad?¡± He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯d you join House Mars? I know you had plenty to say about the Rubicon Tapes. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised so many of you stayed after all that madness.¡±

    Mateo hesitated, then sighed, the weight of old frustrations pressing down on him. ¡°You tell me. Like Franklin said, there¡¯s honor here. But unlike him¡­¡± He shot a sharp glance at Franklin, who looked down at the ground. ¡°¡­I¡¯m not deluding myself about my place. I messed up in my first few days¡ªgot into a fight with some girls. Rumors spread like wildfire, and I needed somewhere to go before the expulsion date. Lucky me, House Mars was desperate enough to take me in.¡± He gave a dry, humorless chuckle and tightened his grip on his sword. ¡°I like hurting shit. That¡¯s what the milacademy taught me, anyway.¡±

    Tyson¡¯s expression softened just a touch. ¡°At least you found your place with us.¡±

    Mateo let out a bitter, worn laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, sure. This school¡¯s too damn small¡ªinformation spreads faster than a goddamn virus. Word of mouth and the net¡­ I get Henryk, though. It¡¯s the same for him. Nowhere to hide from your past, no matter how hard you try.¡±

    Ty ignored that, his gaze shifting toward Wilbur. ¡°What about you, friend? What brought you here to us?¡±

    Wilbur¡¯s eyes widened, glancing around as if caught off guard. Ty didn¡¯t let up. ¡°You¡¯re an Earth native, right? Technically, you could¡¯ve just joined Saturn House¡ªthey would¡¯ve loved to have you.¡±

    Wilbur sighed. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s not a good time to be someone wearing Saturn¡¯s yellow right now,¡± he muttered, rolling his eyes. ¡°That feudal life of House Mars¡ªthe simplicity¡ªit¡¯s way better than the industrialized monster Saturn¡¯s become.¡±

    ¡°Monster?¡± Franklin echoed, curiosity lighting up his face.

    Wilbur¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°Yeah, a monster. After the Fall of Mars, Saturn¡¯s government eagerly took up the role of the Empire¡¯s elite military force, replacing old Mars. But to do that, they had to change our whole society and culture. Now it¡¯s either break your back for the state¡ªworking the fields or sweating in factories making guns and tanks¡ªor serve in the military. If you¡¯re lucky, maybe you get into the academy. But if not¡­¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Ty asked, his tone dropping with genuine concern.

    Wilbur just sneered, shaking his head. ¡°Nothing. But I bet you can all guess what happens to the ones deemed really ¡®unproductive¡¯ back home.¡± Silence settled between them, thick and uneasy.

    Mateo broke it first, his voice soft but unyielding. ¡°What about you, Knight?¡± he asked. ¡°I was there the day Ed stood up on that podium¡ªhe was the only one.¡±

    Ty¡¯s eyes went distant, and Mateo caught that glint of sadness buried in them. ¡°I¡¯m not blaming you for standing with him,¡± he continued. ¡°Hell, Ed was practically crazy, standing in front of thousands¡ªon galactic television, no less¡ªand announcing his affiliation with terrorists¡­¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Ty said, his voice taut. ¡°Listen, a lot of us¡­ especially me¡ªwe didn¡¯t know what to think. The idea that House Mars could come back from its destruction? If you¡¯d told me that a year ago, I would¡¯ve called you crazy.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Wilbur murmured, raising an eyebrow.

    Ty gave a hollow chuckle. ¡°Hell yeah. We were bombed to pieces. Our worlds were up for grabs. I was content to just live out my days in misery and neglect. Almost died trying to get into another house¡ªsame as Henryk. The rest of us just didn¡¯t think there was anything left to save.¡±

    Somberness hung heavy in the air, and the squires lowered their heads.

    Ty glanced back at Mateo and offered a soft smile. ¡°Also, Mateo¡ªI¡¯m not a knight. Never got knighted.¡±

    Mateo¡¯s eyes widened, and a faint blush crept over his cheeks. He coughed into his fist, trying to brush it off. ¡°I apologize,¡± he muttered.

    Ty waved it off with a warm, crooked grin. ¡°No biggie. You didn¡¯t know.¡±

    Mateo turned away, hoping no one caught the odd flicker of heat in his face. He told himself it was just embarrassment¡ªnothing more.

    <u>Arthur</u>

    "How are you doing, pretty knight!" shouted Arthur, his fingers clenching the metal railing as he leaned over the threshold. Below him, surrounded by steel walls and heavy wooden doors, Axel stood shirtless, a wooden sword in hand, his spikes catching the sun as he held a relaxed fighting stance.

    Young men lay sprawled around him, clutching their joints and grimacing in pain, their training swords abandoned. The air was thick with sweat and groans, and Axel just looked bored, the faintest hint of disdain tugging at his lips.

    The wooden sword was plain, built for a one-handed grip. From above, Edward stood next to Arthur, his face tightening with disapproval.

    "I told you to take it easier on them," Ed said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

    Axel just huffed, shutting his eyes before heading toward the stone steps leading up from the sparring pit. The ascent was steep, and it made the whole place feel more like a coliseum than a training ground.

    "The mortals desired a fair challenge," Axel remarked, his tone flat. "Some of them had potential. Even fewer might have made quality champions¡ªworthy of being picked as knights."

    Ed let out a slow breath, dragging his hands down his face. "We''re not out here to recruit more knights. Just here to offer our aid to House Mars."

    "That''s what we''re doing out here..." Another voice cut in¡ªIsaac''s. His left arm was in a cast, and an Executor rifle, blocky and long-barreled with no stock, hung strapped across his chest. He looked tired, but the glint in his eye was as sharp as ever.

    "Shit, good to see you''re up, Arthur," Isaac said with a wry smile.

    Arthur nodded. "Good to see your injuries have been tended to as well."

    Isaac chuckled. "There were recordings of what happened between you and that Warcasket. Henryk¡¯s sword... you really carved through that fucker."

    Axel had finally made his way up the steps, and for a moment, the noise faded, leaving Arthur standing in the center, surrounded.

    "So, he''s dead, that man..." Arthur said quietly, his voice thick with something darker than grief.

    Ed was the first to notice. "You... you knew that pilot?" he asked, turning to Arthur with a look of confusion. "How? He was just some no-name grunt..."

    Arthur sneered, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth creaked. "I''ve seen that mobile suit before. That strange suit..."

    "WarArmors," Isaac interjected, cocking his head. "Nothing new. They were the predecessors to our bipedal machines before humanity cracked the code. But you''ve seen them at the academy before?"

    Arthur''s eyes flared wide. "Before? That machine..." He pointed out the window, toward the battleground where trenches lay littered with the dead and burning slag of machines. "That exact machine killed my father. My older brother. My grandfather!" He spat the words out, and the room seemed to shrink around him.

    "Arthur, you''re alright..." Axel spoke this time, his voice stripped of its usual pride. "But that machine¡ªI¡¯ve seen it on catalogs and Neo Insta. It''s a standard mass-produced Neptunian WarArmor."

    Arthur sneered, growling through clenched teeth. "You lie..."

    Axel''s eyes widened, and he glanced at Ed, who waved it off, his shoulders dropping as he took a slow breath. Relief washed over his features, if only for a moment. Maybe it was because they¡¯d fought side by side for so long. A brotherhood formed in blood and iron¡ªthe kind that made men willing to die for one another.

    Yet Kieren lingered on the edge, his eyes drawn instead to the nurses moving up and down the steps, fetching the wounded infantry. Their faces were hardened, hands stained with blood, and their movements efficient despite the chaos. He couldn¡¯t help but watch them, like specters gliding through the dying light, indifferent to the pain they tended to.

    Isaac''s voice joined the mix, calm but firm. "He¡¯s not lying, bro. Those WarArmors have been in development for years. One of the reasons the Neptunian Military¡¯s been thriving¡ªthey¡¯ve got the advantage in both land and space combat. Doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s alien or Earth-like atmosphere."

    Arthur sighed deeply, his hands running down his face. "I-I just thought..."

    "You thought this was some storybook shit," Isaac cut in, moving to Arthur¡¯s side. "That you¡¯d run into the guy who killed your family personally? That¡¯s not how the world works, buddy."

    Arthur sneered, but Isaac gave him a light nudge with his elbow. "Listen, you were like... what? How old?"

    Arthur glanced at him, face drawn. "Six... maybe eight, possibly. It was a few years after the fall of Mars..."

    "It was during the hunts, wasn¡¯t it?" Axel asked, his tone softer than usual.

    Arthur¡¯s face twisted with a bitter smile. "We were all that was left of the true blood lineage of the Red Templars," he muttered, his eyes wide and distant. "That machine... whoever was in it, they¡ª"

    "The proper name for the WarArmor is designation NZ-009 Revenant."

    A voice¡ªfeminine, proud, confident¡ªcut through the room like a blade. All the young men turned, eyes narrowing against the dim light, and saw her figure looming down the hall behind them.

    Kieren¡¯s eyes loomed around too, struggling to see. The halls were suffocated in darkness, the distant hum of generators vibrating through the castle walls, but the lights here¡ªflickering, weak¡ªwere powered by crude oils and torchlight. Servants moved to tend them, keeping the gloom at bay. It wasn¡¯t like the garages where electric lights hummed overhead. The whole place felt like it was caught between ancient savagery and clinging remnants of modernity.

    For a moment, Kieren thought about his old life¡ªthe games he loved, the noise and color of the city. Would he ever hold a controller again? His mind faded to the squires, to Henryk, the one he used to bully. By accepting the spikes, his life had been saved with the promise of divinity... but he¡¯d pledged himself to eternal service, to the Kings of House Mars. Had he signed away his soul for salvation?

    The figure stepped closer, draped in a dark cloak that swallowed the light. For just a moment, Isaac grimaced, swearing he almost saw a snout beneath the cowl.

    "Who are you, beast?" Isaac growled, narrowing his eyes.

    "Isaac," Edward snapped, sharp and unforgiving, before slamming his fist into Isaac¡¯s bad arm.

    Isaac let out a strangled scream, collapsing to his knees. "W-What the hell¡ª"

    "My apologies, my princess," Edward said, voice tight and formal. He dropped to his knees, and the others followed suit, heads bowed. Edward pushed Isaac¡¯s face to the cold stone, practically making him kiss the asphalt. "My friend forgets himself."

    The princess pulled back her cowl, and their eyes widened. If it weren¡¯t for the humanoid shape¡ªthe curve of her hips, the poise in her stance¡ªshe could have passed for something alien. But no... she was like them, just touched by one of humanity¡¯s mutations after conquering the stars¡ªor reaping the alien soils that did it for them.

    "Princess Maelia of House Voss," Edward spoke with a sigh of reverence. "It is an honor."

    "The honor is mine, Edward of House Mars. Rise, Knights of Mars," said Maelia, flicking her hood back, revealing vibrant orange eyes that seemed to cut through the crowd.

    Her skin... it was almost shaggy, like Tyson''s, coarse and wild, giving her a strange, animalistic grace. She looked human enough, but Ed couldn¡¯t help but feel uneasy. Isaac should have known better than to run his mouth like that¡ªhe¡¯d have to talk to him later.

    "Come forth," Maelia continued. "We must speak. There is a reason you are here."

    Ed nodded, gesturing for the others to rise. "Princess, it is an honor," Arthur said, standing tall, his posture rigid with pride. "I am Arthur of the Red Templars. My father fought alongside your own during the Battle of Trey''s Cliff."

    Maelia''s expression softened, and a hint of melancholy crossed her face. "That was a terrible battle," she said quietly. "Before he passed, my father spoke of your father¡¯s valor. That was his first Warcasket engagement, correct?"

    Arthur¡¯s chest swelled, and his smile widened as he placed a hand over his heart. "Yes."

    Maelia hesitated, her voice quieter now. "...And what of your father now? Of your brother?"

    Arthur''s smile faltered, and the shadows of old grief flickered in his eyes. Maelia caught it and wisely did not press further. Arthur straightened his shoulders, brushing away the sorrow with a determined glare. "Whatever you need, Princess, just say the word. My sword is yours, forever and always. Unlike some of my cousin Knights... I don''t care about issues of mutations."

    Maelia waved it off, a faint smirk on her lips. "It¡¯s fine. But... there have been developments. After this Neptunian attack, many are considering leaving the Monolith."

    "Leaving?" Ed repeated, his voice tight with disbelief.

    Maelia gave a grim nod. "They found our location after years of secrecy. The Monolith is a fortress, but keeping it hidden within Mercurian Territory has always been a gamble. Now, with the Neptunians sniffing around, it¡¯s only a matter of time before word gets out."

    "How the hell are you fighting a private war here?" Axel cut in, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "What do the Mercurians think of all this?"

    Maelia let out a harsh, barking laugh. "The Mercurians and Neptunians are both fools. They think they can conquer this land, but the people remain loyal to Mars, even now. The Neptunians understand that, which is why they¡¯re pushing this marriage deal so hard... but there¡¯s a complication. An heir lives¡ªmy brother is alive."

    Shock rippled through the room, and Arthur¡¯s eyes grew wide. "If an heir lives, then technically..."

    Maelia nodded. "There are ancient rites that even the Eunuch Emperor must honor. That¡¯s why Martians can still walk some streets without hiding, why even disgraced sons can attend prestigious institutions. It¡¯s our blood¡ªit can¡¯t be erased from the legacy."

    "Where is he?" Isaac demanded, eyes narrowed. "And you¡¯re just finding this out now?"

    Maelia sneered at him, her lips curling. "Mind your tongue, Knight," she snapped.

    "Easy, woman, I ain¡¯t no Knight," Isaac shot back, crossing his arms.

    Arthur glared at him, voice tight with anger. "Easy, Soldier. As a True Knight, I won¡¯t allow you to disrespect an honest-to-god princess."

    "Yes, soldier," Isaac mocked with a lopsided grin, fingers twitching in irritation. "I don¡¯t take orders from you. I just want to know what¡¯s in it for us¡ªwhat¡¯s the payout, the new developments."

    "Isaac, that¡¯s enough," Ed barked, voice sharp as steel. He turned to Maelia, offering a weary smile. "Ignore him, Princess. He took a hard hit in his Warcasket when he got thrown clear. Still rattling around in his skull."

    Isaac scoffed, muttering under his breath as he started to walk away. Axel gave a dismissive shake of his head, watching him go. "Absolutely disrespectful," he muttered.

    Ed gave Maelia an apologetic glance, and she just nodded, leading the way down the corridor, her steps echoing against the stone. Axel fell in line behind them, while Arthur stayed a moment longer, glaring at Isaac¡¯s retreating form before finally following the others.

    "He really doesn''t mean it," Ed started, his voice trailing off, a little unsure. "He''s just had a bad hand after the fall and..."

    Maelia sighed, her eyes narrowing like a storm brewing on the horizon. "Edward, I have thicker skin than to worry about some gun-loving redneck," she said, her voice smooth and venomous. She paused, turning to meet Ed¡¯s gaze. The heat from her stare felt like a furnace. "Does he have the spikes? Does he know how to shoot? How to use mace and shield?" Her voice was like a blade.

    "Yes, yes he does," Ed replied, nodding.

    A smirk crept across Maelia¡¯s face, sharp as glass. "That¡¯s all we need," she said, her tone almost amused. "Hot-blooded youths who¡¯ll throw themselves into the jaws of danger for glory and gold." She gestured toward the group lounging nearby. "So, you want some new toys, some machines?" she asked, her voice dripping with a kind of dark promise.

    Ed nodded, a little more hesitantly this time. "...Some money on the side would be nice, too."

    "Yes, yes, of course," she replied, waving her hand dismissively, as if the offer of money was a mere afterthought. "Back in the day, your grandfathers would throw millions at the House. I¡¯ve heard the stories, the whispers of the madness that followed."

    Ed¡¯s shoulders sagged. "Yeah, but now? Now it¡¯s just... a struggle. Hell, even our munitions are a pain to come by."

    Maelia¡¯s hand came down on Ed¡¯s shoulder, steady and reassuring. "We¡¯re going to recover my brother," she said, voice softening for a moment before hardening again. "But I know the moment I step foot outside this fortress, a target¡¯s going to be painted right on my back."

    Ed¡¯s face darkened, a storm in his own eyes now. "What would you have us do?"

    Maelia leaned against the wall, raising her fingers¡ªmore like talons, rough and wild, much like Tyson¡¯s. "I need two of you to take your Warcaskets and hit the Neptunian fuel depot," she said, her voice low, each word a command. "It¡¯s in the city where they¡¯re holding my brother."

    Ed¡¯s eyes widened. "So, you¡¯re asking for two of our guys," he said, glancing over at the group. "We¡¯re a bit light on hands, but I can stretch them thin. They¡¯ll get the job done, or at least some of them will."

    Maelia tilted her head, the smirk returning. "Ah, someone can¡¯t handle their members," she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

    Ed rolled his eyes. "Isaac shockingly isn¡¯t the problem. Give him a pound of weed and he¡¯ll keep himself occupied. I think it¡¯s more the paranoid post-traumatic stress disorder. But Kieren... he¡¯s an off-worlder we gave the spikes to. He barely knows how to fight. Isaac, on the other hand, is from a MilAcademy, though he broke his arm during his last mission."

    "Isaac¡¯s the loud dog with no respect," Maelia said, her voice a lazy drawl, dismissing the trouble with a flick of her hand.

    Ed nodded, the weight of the conversation pressing on him like the thick air before a storm.

    ¡°The Spikes will heal him in time for this battle,¡± Maelia said, her voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of concern. "But wasn¡¯t there another one?" Her eyes narrowed, a glint of curiosity. "I¡¯ve heard in your reports of a mutant who can see what others cannot, wielding powers that no man should possess."

    "Henryk," Ed said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, but it quickly faded, his expression darkening as his palms pressed to his face. "He... he was outside our transport during atmospheric reentry."

    "He didn¡¯t make it?" Maelia''s voice softened, a trace of sadness threading through the words.

    Ed sighed, his breath heavy, his eyes distant. "The Mercurians... they built something. It was small, too small to be a transport ship, but it scooped up Henryk in the nick of time. It fought off the Neptunians, reentered atmosphere... saved him."

    Maelia¡¯s face darkened, her eyes a storm of uncertainty.

    "Do you think he¡¯ll be alright?" Ed asked, his voice strained, his features tight with worry. "The Mercurians at the academy are different. If they¡¯ve recovered him... if they¡¯ve taken him... it would be..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

    Maelia sighed, shaking her head slowly. "I don¡¯t believe so," she said quietly, as if trying to reassure herself. "They saved him. That¡¯s a start." She placed a hand on Edward¡¯s shoulder, grounding him in the moment. "Does it really bother you so much? The idea of other Houses helping House Mars? Don¡¯t you remember the honor of your own?"

    Ed¡¯s sigh was long, drawn out, as if the weight of his house¡¯s legacy had finally broken through. "Princess," he murmured, his voice rough, "lately, all I¡¯ve been reminded of is blood and warfare. My house... it¡¯s all I¡¯ve known. Nothing more, nothing less." He gently moved her hand off his shoulder, the motion slow, deliberate. "I¡¯ll brief the guys. We¡¯ll support you, however we can. The Oceana Sector¡­ we¡¯d be damned to lose any more to the Neptunians."

    Before Maelia could respond, the sound of armored footsteps echoed down the corridor, a figure emerging from the dim light. His armor was a patchwork of light plate and chainmail, his features hidden beneath grime and a black mask.

    "Princess," he called out, his voice crisp and urgent. "We¡¯ve recovered two individuals in front of the trench line. They¡¯re to be delivered within moments."

    Maelia turned to him, her posture tightening, the weight of what was to come settling on her shoulders. As the figure moved toward them, Ed¡¯s gaze lingered on her, a mixture of concern and resolve in his eyes. He knew what this meant.

 Chapter 19 - Youd Promise Youd Wait for Me

    Chapter 19 - You''d Promise You''d Wait for Me

    <hr>

    <u>Henryk</u>

    Before they even reached the trench line, Henryk Brown and Piper were already a ways away from the main battlefield. They must''ve been searching for them¡ªa lucky break after Henryk¡¯s miscalculation during their journey and the unexpected early rescue pickup.

    Mucking through the trees and talking to Piper had been a nice distraction, but exhaustion still throbbed at the edges of Henryk¡¯s mind. Sleep clawed at him, dulling his thoughts, but as he glanced out the window of the helicopter¡ªPiper across from him, her gaze spiraling somewhere far away¡ªhis senses sharpened.

    The fortress loomed into view, and it stole the breath from his lungs.

    A dark, black spire rose against the sky, noir and neolithic, its architecture ancient yet imposing, as if history itself had been carved from the stone. It looked like something torn from a Dark Age European textbook, only marred by the scars of modern warfare¡ªbullet splatters, fire scorches, and strange claw marks that whispered of battles fought and battles lost. Massive windows gaped like the empty eye sockets of skulls, and Henryk couldn¡¯t help but wonder what material this fortress was made of to endure so much.

    Gargoyles clung to irregular slopes, their grotesque forms hunched over the edges like watchful demons. Machine gun turrets were embedded along the castle¡¯s slopes, bristling with hostile intent, and Henryk marveled at how far the structure seemed to stretch¡ªboth above ground and likely deep into the rock below.

    This place had been kept secret for years. A whole battlefield had unfolded around it, and now it stood as a defiant monument to survival, even as he and Piper rose higher and higher.

    "Hey, how much longer till we...?" Piper¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts.

    "A couple of minutes..." The pilot spoke curtly, his voice gruff and focused. He arched the helicopter upward in a smooth, rising curve. "Druid, the Knights of Mars sent us for you. It is an honor to stand with a true..."

    Henryk almost snorted. The co-pilot¡ªno, wait, probably the navigator¡ªwas trying too hard, and he knew Tyson would have smacked him for getting ranks mixed up. Too much studying, too much working out, too many hours hunched over books and lectures from people he used to call friends. Friends... was that what they were now? They''d come to rescue him, and for the first time, Henryk wondered what his place within the fold truly was.

    "Druid, huh?" Piper chuckled, her mouth tugging into a lopsided grin. "Word travels fast, even off-world."

    The pilot and co-pilot were far enough ahead, and with the open door giving them some privacy, Henryk felt his shoulders relax just a bit. The chopper was massive¡ªfour propellers, a bulk wide enough to carry twenty or forty people. It was quieter than he expected, just the low thrum of the engine and the rush of wind.

    He glanced at Piper and couldn¡¯t help but smile. "You ever take biology with Deezna?" he asked, shifting in his seat.

    Piper yawned, her hand covering her mouth. "Took my biology course online¡ªwas too busy playing Minecraft all day."

    Henryk¡¯s eyebrows raised. "That¡¯s rad. Didn¡¯t know you played Minecraft. What version?"

    She smirked, flicking her curls over her shoulder. "1.20.1."

    "1.7.10," Henryk shot back, his own grin creeping up.

    Piper laughed, and it came out softer than she meant. "Can¡¯t go wrong with the classics." Her face warmed suddenly, eyes darting to the side, and her voice dropped almost to a mumble. "...Maybe... I¡¯m still punished till the end of the month¡ªstuck in this sector¡ªbut I still play on my laptop. Would you, um... like to play sometime? I... we haven¡¯t talked..."

    Henryk¡¯s smirk softened, and he leaned in just a bit, letting his gaze lock onto hers. Piper felt her heart kick against her ribs, her wild curls bouncing slightly as her cheeks flushed crimson.

    "I think it¡¯d be awesome for us to play together," Henryk said, his voice low and steady.

    They were quiet for a moment, but Piper broke the silence¡ªof course she did. Henryk was starting to piece together the enigma that was Piper: she hated the quiet, craved motion, and filled any gap with words or noise. It made his heart throb in a way that felt reckless, like stepping out into enemy fire without armor. There was something about her that stirred something primal in him¡ªa sense that he¡¯d fight wars just to keep that smile on her face.

    When had the protection of the girl he¡¯d maimed turned into this?

    ¡°Why¡¯d you ask me about biology, by the way?¡± Piper regarded him with a curious tilt of her head.

    ¡°Homo sapiens¡ªthat¡¯s the proper scientific way of calling me... or us, that,¡± he said. ¡°Druid, wizard... I¡¯ve got an actual guy named Arthur who¡¯s a genuine knight. Picks me up in his pickup truck after he¡¯s done with his job at the butchery.¡±

    Piper snorted. ¡°What are you trying to say?¡±

    Henryk sighed. ¡°Just... different people and cultures trying to brand things they don¡¯t understand. At least they aren¡¯t like the Neptunians¡ªthose bastards would probably try to lynch me.¡±

    ¡°True that.¡± Piper raised her hand in a mock toast, a wry grin cutting through the tension. ¡°Still, I wouldn¡¯t mind being called the first of something... I never really asked you much about your powers.¡±

    ¡°My powers...¡± Henryk began, his voice trailing off as the chopper continued its steady ascent. How long had they been going up? The pilot said it¡¯d only be a couple of minutes, but his ears popped again, and his eyes widened at the unfamiliar pressure.

    Piper inched closer, curiosity sparking in her eyes. ¡°You used it against me, and I saw you use it again in the last duel... but I watched the clips of you fighting the GrimGar¡ªwhy didn¡¯t you use it then?¡±

    Henryk¡¯s lips twitched, and he couldn¡¯t help it¡ªa laugh burst out of him, loud and sudden. Piper¡¯s face flushed crimson. ¡°Hey, what are you laughing about?¡± She gave him a light, embarrassed punch to the shoulder.

    He smirked, still chuckling as he shook his head. ¡°Didn¡¯t realize you were watching me so intently.¡±

    Piper snorted, her shoulders relaxing as she sank back into her seat. ¡°Sometimes you can be so¡ª¡± She didn¡¯t finish, just huffed, half annoyed and half amused.

    Henryk grinned, stretching his shoulders within the straps. ¡°Aren¡¯t we in different houses?¡± he teased. ¡°Who knows, maybe one day we¡¯ll have another friendly match... no magic, of course. Can¡¯t let you in on any secrets.¡±

    Piper rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t look away. ¡°You know I wouldn¡¯t tell any of my housemates. But... I would like to know how it works,¡± she admitted, her voice softer. ¡°We¡¯ve fought side by side so many times. Like you said, we¡¯re from different houses, but it feels like our paths keep crossing¡ªlike we¡¯re always fighting together as a force for good. I just... want to know you better, Henryk Brown.¡±

    Henryk¡¯s gaze dropped to the floor, and a strange feeling wormed its way into his chest. Timid wasn¡¯t something he was used to feeling, but Piper¡¯s eyes on him made his heart feel too big for his ribcage. There was a small part of him that couldn¡¯t believe it¡ªcouldn¡¯t believe that she¡¯d want to know him. Yet that smallest part cast the largest shadow, like doubt made flesh.

    He sighed, flexing his fingers as if the power still thrummed under his skin. ¡°Honestly... I¡¯ve had these abilities since I was a kid. Never knew much¡ªjust the bare minimum.¡±

    ¡°Bare minimum?¡± Piper echoed, her gaze drawn to his hands as he opened and closed them.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had tutors, of course,¡± Henryk said, his voice low and thoughtful. ¡°Passing vagrants that came and went from the colony¡ªmy mother paid for them when she could. I¡¯ve heard stories of magic users so powerful they killed their own families... some changed so much when they received their powers that they came back practically as strangers. Guess I just got lucky...¡± He flexed his fingers, almost like he was reassuring himself that they were still his. ¡°I was thankful for it, too.¡± His gaze found Piper¡¯s, and he held it. ¡°It only ever really showed up when I was in real danger. That¡¯s all I know.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes widened, her expression caught between confusion and disbelief. ¡°Wait... but you just said you have control over it. That you¡¯ve had training.¡±

    ¡°Training?¡± Henryk¡¯s lips curled into a bitter smile. ¡°Piper, the witches of Jupiter¡ªwith their eugenics and whatever godforsaken rituals they¡¯re cooking up¡ªthey know what they¡¯re doing. We learned how to keep the magic contained, to make sure we didn¡¯t blow up and take a colony with us. That¡¯s about it.¡±

    Piper¡¯s eyes flared at that, and Henryk couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of guilt at her reaction.

    ¡°Piper, we¡¯re... something new,¡± he said flatly, his gaze fixed on her as she shifted uncomfortably. ¡°We¡¯re just recently on the scene. A few spells, a few techniques... but that one blaze of light¡ªthat surge of electrical power? I have no idea what it was or why it happened.¡± He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white.

    Piper looked at him, eyes softened by something close to admiration. ¡°I¡¯ve never met a pilot who could wield magic and pilot a Warcasket at the same time,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Henryk... if you keep going¡ªlearn how to control it¡ªit could be the difference between victory and defeat.¡±

    Henryk sighed, looking down at his hands again. ¡°I just... wanted to keep it hidden. The Neptunians want me dead as it is. And that rumor about Jace¡¯s sister didn¡¯t help things...¡±

    Piper¡¯s gaze sharpened, unyielding. ¡°A weapon is still a weapon,¡± she said, her voice firm. ¡°Master it. You know you can. I know you can.¡±

    The way she said it, with that unwavering confidence, did something to him. Something primal and unspoken that made his pulse quicken, his mind drift to dangerous places.

    Henryk cleared his throat, pushing down that thought. ¡°Now, my turn,¡± he said, his tone lightening up just enough to steer the conversation away from his own turmoil.

    Piper narrowed her eyes, the corners of her lips quirking up. ¡°What would you like to know? A deal¡¯s a deal.¡±

    He chuckled, giving her a sly look. ¡°I want a proper explanation of that Warcasket of yours.¡±

    Piper¡¯s expression faltered for just a moment, her eyes dropping to her lap. Henryk didn¡¯t miss it. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a Warcasket like that before,¡± he continued. ¡°The fact that you held onto my back while I entered the atmosphere... a day ago I would¡¯ve called that impossible.¡±

    Piper let out a long breath. ¡°Listen... like I said, we¡¯ve fought together countless times. You trust me?¡±

    Henryk hesitated, but only for a second. Then he nodded. ¡°I trust you.¡±

    She looked away, clearly unsure whether she was making the right call. Maybe the crush had her acting foolish. Or maybe it was something deeper. ¡°The Warcasket has something we¡¯re calling the Mobilized Battleframe,¡± Piper said at last.

    Henryk chuckled. ¡°Kind of a dumb name,¡± he teased.

    ¡°What?¡± Piper shot him a glare.

    ¡°Just saying, if it was Martian tech, we¡¯d have bogged it down to something practical. It¡¯s military equipment, after all. But what does it actually do?¡±

    Piper sighed, her eyes distant as memories of battle flickered through her mind. ¡°Remember the fight? It¡¯s still primarily for space use right now. We don¡¯t really know how to handle the suit on land. Trying to make an engine that can handle both space and planetary atmospheres is... well, it¡¯s practically impossible. The suit I fought alongside Oceana with¡ªit¡¯s the same one. They shipped it up here after my censure so we could run tests and gather data...¡±

    ¡°Tests and data?¡± Henryk¡¯s smirk widened, teasing.

    Piper inched closer without realizing it, catching the faint, clean scent of him. Her cheeks flushed, and she cursed herself internally. Why was she acting like this? Why did his voice make her feel like her spine was melting, like when he sang¡ªbooming over the radio, effortlessly confident and alluring? His voice had a way of bending her resolve, and it was maddening.

    ¡°We¡¯re trying to make more machines,¡± Piper said, her words softer now. ¡°Or at least use the suit as a testbed for new models. Primarily, we were focusing on creating a version with higher mobility.¡± She chuckled, the sound lighter than she intended. ¡°Honestly, the control sensitivity on that one... I could barely keep up. But to answer your question, the suit is able to, I guess... transform?¡±

    ¡°Transform?¡± Henryk echoed, testing the word like it was a foreign concept.

    Piper sighed, glancing out the window as they swept across the gulf of the spire. The landing pad stretched below them, black dots marking the gathered crew. It was late, the sun sinking behind the cliffs, bathing the horizon in bruised purples and reds.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Piper continued, drawing his attention back. ¡°That¡¯s what they¡¯re calling it. Transformation. But it¡¯s pretty crappy, to be honest.¡± Her expression hardened, eyes darkening with frustration. ¡°The whole process takes over ten seconds, which is a death sentence in combat. And if we¡¯re doing something like that atmospheric dive... I¡¯d have to cut my back rockets entirely. I¡¯d lose speed and risk burning my comrade. Want to know something interesting, Henryk? The machine has to be fluid¡ªcohesive. If one thing goes wrong during transformation, a malfunction could kill me.¡±

    He could hear the resentment in her voice, the way she seemed to hate the very thing that was supposed to protect her. Henryk sighed, leaning deeper into his seat as he thought back on their battle. ¡°The firepower on it was insane, though. Each shield had a rocket and twin lasers?¡±

    Piper snorted, flashing him a small, almost proud smile. ¡°Like I said, we¡¯ll be rolling out some new toys soon.¡± She tilted her head with a playful glint in her eyes. ¡°There¡¯s still time to switch sides, Henryk Brown.¡±

    He waved her off just as the pilot veered left, the landing pad looming closer. The scattered figures on the ground were sharpening into faces, their anticipation palpable even from up here.

    ¡°The Martians may be a rough bunch,¡± Henryk remarked, his voice oddly wistful, ¡°but they¡¯ve got some great things to offer.¡±

    Piper¡¯s laugh was softer this time, almost hesitant. ¡°I guess... but Henryk, a life lived medieval¡ªwhere the only thing advanced is their army? Their military? Is that really a life?¡±

    Her words struck something in him, and the doubt must have shown on his face, because Piper¡¯s smile faltered. A twinge of guilt gnawed at her. She hated that she¡¯d put that look on his face, hated that she made him question his place. But this life of his... he could die from dysentery tomorrow, and she knew it. She knew she could keep him safe by her side, even if it meant tearing him from the world he knew.

    Amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and doubts, Henryk¡¯s mind latched onto what Piper had said about the transforming Warcasket. His thoughts thumped with memories¡ªdocumentaries watched with Joseph and Arthur back at the academy, old raptors and fighter jets from Earth¡¯s fractured past, remnants of Old America before the full Earth Government took over.

    Transformable Warcaskets... it was ambitious. It was reckless. But maybe, just maybe, it was the future.

    And yet, shameless as it was, his eyes drifted to Piper¡ªthe way the dying sunlight glinted off her hair, the way her lips quirked up at the edges. A beautiful girl right in front of him, one who clearly cared... but his mind kept tugging him back to Bea. He needed to talk to her. Now.

    As the skiff clicked onto the landing pad, the whine of the propellers slowly died around them. Henryk pushed the door open, the wind slicing at his face and whipping his jacket like angry fingers. He grabbed his pack and weaponry, shaking the stiffness from his shoulders.

    Before he could fully get his bearings, a familiar voice erupted across the landing pad.

    "Henryk Brown! Aren¡¯t you a sight for sore eyes, Druid!"

    Arthur barreled toward him like a human avalanche, practically tackling him as Piper backed away with a bemused smile.

    "At ease, at ease!" Henryk pleaded, but Arthur just laughed, wrapping him up in a bear hug as others rushed in to join the commotion. Workers, maids, nurses, and guards lingered at the edges, their faces painted with surprise and relief, whispers fluttering through the crowd like anxious moths.

    "We thought you were dead, Druid!" Arthur bellowed, spittle flying at Henryk¡¯s face. "You defied death¡ªnot once, but twice!" He threw his arms wide, looking skyward as if demanding the heavens take note. "Executor material, right here!"

    Arthur¡¯s booming laughter echoed off the stone, and the others crowded around, patting Henryk¡¯s shoulders, ruffling his hair, and bombarding him with questions. Axel and Isaac pushed their way into the throng, grinning ear to ear.

    Not everyone shared the joy.

    Kieren stood apart from the others, hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles went pale. He barely registered the pain as his nails bit into his palms, drawing thin lines of blood. He didn¡¯t notice it trickling down his wrists¡ªdidn¡¯t notice how quickly the blood clotted and sealed on its own, as if the wound had never been there.

    ¡°What the hell...?¡± Kieren whispered, eyes locked on his hand. The moment passed so quickly he almost doubted it happened at all.

    Meanwhile, Piper glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a new voice.

    ¡°Piper the Red Rocket of the Mercurian Sphere.¡±

    She turned to see a young man approaching¡ªblond hair tousled by the wind, faint speckles of facial hair on his jaw, and striking emerald eyes that seemed too keen for their own good. He raised a hand in greeting.

    "Edward," he introduced himself, offering a cordial nod. "House president." He glanced over at Henryk, still swarmed by the others. "He joined you in that duel with Atticus, didn¡¯t he? Rotten business, that was."

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me...¡± Piper muttered.

    Edward sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I suppose you¡¯ll want to let your house and friends know you¡¯re safe."

    Piper¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. "You guys have radios?" She huffed, half-amused. "Of course you do..."

    Edward gave a wry smile. "They might prefer lanterns to lightbulbs, but they¡¯re not bad people. Just trying to defend their home and land against invaders who have no real claim here. They¡¯re willing to let you use their radio to call your house and arrange pickup."

    Piper hesitated, relief flickering through her expression. "Thank you, but... me and Henryk left my Warcasket somewhere in the forest and¡ª"

    Edward waved it off. "Don¡¯t worry about it. Just let them know on the call. They¡¯ll recover it."

    Piper glanced back at Henryk, watching as the others tousled his hair and clapped him on the back, laughter weaving through the air like an old, familiar melody. She couldn¡¯t help but smile, even as a heaviness settled in her chest.

    "...After I leave, I¡¯m not going to see Henryk until the end of the month," Piper muttered, half to herself. "I¡¯m going to be attached to this sector."

    Edward opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure how to navigate the emotion tangled in her words. Piper shook her head, as if clearing the thought.

    "Come on," she said, determination hardening her tone. "Lead me to the radio room. We¡¯ve got work to do."

    She stepped past Edward without another glance back, her pace firm and unyielding, like a soldier charging into battle.

    <u>Bri</u>

    The presidential room of the Witches of Jupiter had been completed years ago¡ªa monumental space unlike the utilitarian, wide-open offices favored on Mars, Neptune, Mercury, and Pluto. The Witches didn¡¯t bother with a desk. Instead, the room sprawled out, easily the size of four conjoined rectangular classrooms, with stairs leading to four windows on each opposite side. There was no direct natural lighting¡ªjust mirrors along the ceiling to catch the moonlight, fragmenting it into pale, ghostly patterns that danced across the walls.

    In the center of the room stood a grand map suspended high above, shimmering like glass in the fractured light. It wasn¡¯t just a map but a constellation of spheres¡ªplanets and moons and knots of territory¡ªeach one connected by glowing filaments like cosmic threads in a spider¡¯s web. As the beams struck them just right, each orb seemed to flare to life, gleaming in a kaleidoscope of shifting colors.

    Himari¡¯s eyes widened, her lips shaping into a soft "ooh" as the colors blossomed around her, bathing her face in hues of blue, green, and crimson. Her red robes swayed with the slightest motion as if the map itself breathed with the pulse of a living thing.

    ¡°This is your first time coming here in a long while.¡±

    The voice was smooth, almost regal. Esava¡ªthe president of House Jupiter¡ªstood at the top of the stairs, her silhouette framed by the glowing map. Dark bronze skin gleamed under the shimmering lights, and her straight, jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silken curtain. She was tall¡ªtaller than most women¡ªand Himari had to tilt her head just to meet those piercing eyes.

    "It takes my breath away every time I see it," Himari admitted, her dark eyes brimming with wonder.

    She reached out, her fingers brushing one of the spheres, tracing the surface as if afraid to break its fragile beauty. "Such a marvel... each color... how does it even work?" She paused, focusing on one sphere in particular. "That one... that¡¯s Earth, isn¡¯t it? The deep blue and green one?"

    Esava¡¯s eyes followed her gesture. In the center of the map, Earth glowed like a gem, its color bleeding into the interconnected lines¡ªa bridge to the moon, then outward to the sun, and onward to the far planets. Knots linked it to Mars, Jupiter, Neptune¡ªall with their own distinctive hues, representing alliances and territories. It was a history written in light and glass, tracing humanity¡¯s journey from the first steps on the moon in the 1960s to the sprawling network of colonies that now dotted the solar system. The map pulsed as new threads appeared, marking the expansion of human influence with every passing day.

    Esava raised her hand, the light tracing her elegant fingers. "One of these days," she began, voice low and calm, "if you keep doing well within the order..." She cocked her head to the side, giving Himari a sly smile. "It took guts to do what you did. But having Jace¡¯s seed is paramount."

    Himari''s expression tightened, doubt flickering across her face. "I doubt that many would like that I broke my oath."

    Esava narrowed her eyes, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "You¡¯d be glad to know that very few in our circle are aware. And those who do..." She let the sentence hang, her gaze cutting sharp and purposeful. "...House Jupiter needs people capable of going against the grain for the sake of the order. Just be careful who you open your mouth to about this."

    A faint smile tugged at the corner of Himari¡¯s lips, though her thoughts drifted to Belle-Anne and Bri. Even the smallest hint to the wrong person would be her undoing.

    Esava turned back to the map, her gaze drifting out over the academy grounds below. She could see the lecture halls and dorms stretching like a small city, students milling about¡ªsome talking, some making their way to classes or training exercises. The hum of life beyond the windows felt distant and detached, like another world entirely.

    "...How¡¯s Bri doing?" Esava asked, almost casually.

    Himari hesitated, drawing in a breath before letting it out in a slow sigh. "S-She¡¯s doing better," she replied, forcing a smile.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Esava shot Himari a skeptical look, her lips quirking up in a tired, almost bitter smile. "That doesn¡¯t sound convincing," she said, chuckling dryly. "Listen, it¡¯s only been a few days since it happened. I¡¯m not expecting a miracle overnight. Just... make sure she doesn¡¯t freak out like that again."

    Himari nodded, but the gesture felt hollow. Esava continued, her tone softening just a fraction. "I¡¯m giving you the grace to handle this situation because you came through for us when it counted." She sighed and placed a hand on Himari¡¯s shoulder, her touch firm but weary. "There¡¯s still so much we don¡¯t understand about Henry Brown. He seemed like this harmless boy, but there¡¯s something about him... something that¡¯s either protecting him or watching him. Maybe both."

    Himari¡¯s eyes widened, and Esava sighed again, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her. Her gaze drifted from the shimmering map to the floor, shoulders sinking as though the gravity of it all was finally catching up to her.

    "Magical practices are still in their infancy," Esava murmured. "We like to pretend we know everything, but the truth is, we don¡¯t. If this... thing¡ªor Henryk himself¡ªhas cast some kind of curse or a possession onto¡ª"

    "Possession!" Himari cut in, forcing a laugh that sounded far too brittle. "Come on, Esava. That¡¯s ridiculous¡ªdemons, monsters...?" She shook her head, trying to dismiss the creeping dread gnawing at her thoughts.

    But Esava just looked at her, expression flat and unyielding. "Himari," she said, her voice as hard as iron, "I¡¯ve seen things that would make most rational men¡¯s minds split apart. I know magic that could make a city rot from the inside out."

    A cold chill ran down Himari¡¯s spine. She swallowed, suddenly unable to meet Esava¡¯s gaze. She knew better than to doubt her, and that simple truth weighed heavier than any warning.

    Esava¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t waver. "Demons. Monsters. The alien. People like to think we¡¯re just fighting off hostile creatures from far-off worlds¡ªprimitive, foolish, like those during the Xeno Wars..."

    "The GrimGar," Himari whispered, and she didn¡¯t know why the name slipped from her lips.

    Esava let out a long, slow breath. "Exactly. They¡¯re aliens¡ªbrutal, primitive¡ªbut Oceana showed us something different. Smarter. Better equipped than in past years. There¡¯s a darkness out there, Himari. A darkness that¡¯s deeper than just alien savagery. Places even the greatest Witches of Jupiter don¡¯t dare to tread. Planes we don¡¯t walk." Her eyes softened, just a fraction. "And Bri... she¡¯s always had a way of walking those places. Of touching the darkness without losing herself. Until now."

    Himari felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. The memory hit her like a hammer blow, unbidden and raw.

    Last night. It had to be last night...

    Bri sat curled up on her bed, blankets wrapped tight around her shoulders like a makeshift cocoon. She rocked back and forth, eyes hollow and unfocused, whispering to the dark. "P-please... what do you want? What do you want?" The words tumbled from her lips like broken glass, jagged and desperate.

    Himari and Belle-Anne lingered by the doorway, frozen and silent. Belle¡¯s voice was almost a whisper, trembling at the edges. "She hasn¡¯t been to class since it started. The professors are going to notice, Himari... they¡¯re going to start asking questions. They¡¯ll tell the president of the house."

    Himari scowled, fighting back the panic clawing at her throat. "We¡¯ll just say there¡¯s a mission... special training... something."

    Belle shook her head, hands clenched at her sides. "We need to tell someone. Something¡¯s wrong with her, Himari. She hasn¡¯t eaten in days. Hasn¡¯t slept. Barely drinks any water. And..." Belle¡¯s voice cracked. "...she¡¯s pulling out her hair."

    Those words stabbed deep, and Himari glanced through the narrow slit of the door, her heart pounding in her chest. Bri rocked harder, arms wrapped so tightly around herself it seemed she might fold in on herself. Thin tufts of hair were scattered across the mattress¡ªragged clumps torn free by her own trembling hands.

    A shudder racked Himari¡¯s frame, and she swallowed the bile creeping up her throat. "What do you think she¡¯s seeing?" she whispered.

    Belle didn¡¯t answer, just hugged herself and kept staring at their friend.

    Himari¡¯s eyes widened as she took in the clumps of hair scattered across the bed¡ªtorn free, twisted, and matted against the sheets like remnants of some violent struggle. A cold dread coiled in her stomach.

    ¡°Christ, Bri¡­¡± Himari whispered, her voice trembling.

    ¡°We need to tell someone¡­¡± Belle repeated, her tone flat but tinged with urgency. She turned toward Himari, her glasses catching the dull light, reflecting narrowed eyes framed by her swaying, curly, raggedy brown hair. ¡°She could be cursed.¡±

    Himari sneered and spat, ¡°And you know what they¡¯ll do to her, right?¡± She jabbed a finger at the door, stepping away as though the mere thought burned her.

    Belle frowned, her expression hardening. ¡°It¡¯s not an option. We need to help her get better or figure out what¡¯s driving her mad.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not saying anything,¡± Belle pointed out.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she can,¡± Himari replied, her voice cracking. She pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing circles like it might somehow erase the nightmare playing out in front of her. ¡°Oh my God. This is actually freaking horrible. Who else can we call in for help¡­?¡±

    Belle gave her a quizzical look. ¡°Help?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, help.¡± Himari shot her a look, eyes narrowing. ¡°I think I know what we¡¯ve got to do.¡±

    Belle hesitated. ¡°I-I could probably grab Penny and Natalie¡­¡±

    Himari let out a sharp, disdainful huff and made a face like she¡¯d just tasted something rotten. ¡°What was that?¡± Belle raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Nat. That one, really?¡± Himari wrapped her arms around herself defensively. ¡°Is that REALLY the best we¡¯ve got?¡±

    Belle¡¯s face twisted in a mix of irritation and exhaustion, and she shook her head slowly. ¡°That¡¯s all we¡¯re probably going to get, and you should be thankful Bri even has two more friends willing to defy the order for this. So¡­ what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    Himari turned to face her fully, and Belle¡¯s eyes went wide, mouth falling open like something out of a horror film¡ªpure, stupid shock.

    ¡°Exorcism,¡± Himari stated.

    Reality snapped back into focus as Himari found herself standing in the presidential room once more, Esava still staring out at the glimmering spheres suspended above them. Esava sighed, the tension in her shoulders melting into something resigned and bitter.

    ¡°It should be of no matter¡ªHenryk Brown,¡± she said, practically spitting out the name. ¡°An abomination. A man who dares to use magic. We tolerated him before, but now... I¡¯ve sent someone from the order to deal with him. Well, three, actually.¡±

    Himari¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°An attack force?¡±

    Esava glanced at her sharply, hushing her with a quick gesture. ¡°No one shall know about this. His death may be what Bri needs. If there¡¯s a taint on her, it might die with him.¡±

    She looked back at the vast planetary map, her eyes glinting as they traced the lines and glowing spheres. There were many colors¡ªbright and pulsating¡ªbut there were also blackened voids, clustered in some places, isolated in others. The darkest hole marked the path of humanity¡¯s departure from Earth, a gaping maw that seemed to swallow the light around it.

    Esava sneered, a cold, cruel smile curling at the corners of her lips. ¡°Ah, the wolves of Mars... how pitiful their dying howls are.¡±

    <u>Piper</u>

    "Leaving so soon?" Henryk asked, leaning against the wall by a window that spilled yellow light across the floor. Piper paused, her hand on the wooden door that separated the radio room from the main halls. Her backpack was snug on both shoulders, her gaze half-lidded and fixed on the stairs. But his voice made her eyes flutter open, and there was a new bounce in her step as she turned to him.

    "Soldier stuff," Piper said, brushing off the weight in her tone. "And I¡¯m still censured." She moved to stand by his side, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.

    Henryk let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "So, when''s the next time I''m going to be able to see you?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

    Piper looked out the window, her smile widening as she spotted three contrails cutting through the atmosphere in the distance¡ªshimmering streaks against the sky. One of them broke off from the formation, angling toward their position. Her Warcasket. She''d given them the coordinates, and it was on its way now.

    "I know the Martians live like it''s still the medieval era, but they''re an alright bunch," Henryk said, glancing sideways at her. "No one gave you any trouble¡­ or raised too many questions?" His eyebrow arched, but his tone stayed light.

    Piper shot him a look, only to see his smirk widen like he was sitting on a secret.

    "W-what are you trying to say, Henryk Brown?"

    Henryk¡¯s smirk turned downright wicked. "I''m just surprised to¡ª" He paused, savoring the moment. "Ed asked me about the mobile suit you were working on¡ªthe specs. Pretty obvious it''s Martian."

    Piper¡¯s eyes flared wide, but Henryk didn¡¯t miss a beat, his gaze narrowing with that close-lidded, cocky grin that made her thighs clench.

    "¡­I don¡¯t think Ed needs to know that," Henryk added casually. "Just that the Mercurians are cooking up some really hot stuff."

    Piper¡¯s blush deepened, and she turned her head to hide it, but Henryk saw. With a chuckle, he pushed himself off the wall, already walking away. Piper slapped her cheeks with both hands, setting her jaw. ¡®Does he think he¡¯s going to make me feel like this and get away with it? Get the last laugh?¡¯

    Henryk didn¡¯t even notice her charging down the hallway. He just kept talking, waving lazily over his shoulder. "I¡¯ll guess I¡¯ll see you at the end of the month. But the Minecraft will be fun for a time¡ª"

    His words cut off when she seized his hand, spun him around, and grabbed his waist. He barely had time to process before she was on him, her body pressed close. His mouth opened to speak, but Piper didn¡¯t give him the chance.

    "That Warcasket of yours," she whispered, breath hot against his lips. "A transformable Warcasket."

    Henryk''s shock faded, replaced by a slow, wide smile. Piper loved that smile¡ªthe way it never quite left his face, like he was always half-amused with the world.

    "I¡¯ve got some ideas of my own I was going to radio off to¡ª"

    She silenced him with a kiss, lips locking onto his with a fierce, hungry need. Henryk froze, eyes wide, but instinct took over as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. Her feet left the ground, and she melted into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat thundering against her chest. A soft moan escaped her as his hands gripped her back, fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket.

    The kiss broke with a wet, satisfied pop, and Piper slumped against him, feeling his pulse racing through his fingertips. Henryk¡¯s face was flushed, eyes bright and dazed, his mouth still tingling from the sudden, electric contact. Piper smiled up at him, feeling his arousal pressing against her thigh, and couldn¡¯t help but let out a small, triumphant laugh.

    "Wait for me, Henryk Brown," Piper whispered, her hands rising to cup his cheek, fingers brushing against the roughness of his stubble. Her voice was steady, but her eyes carried a softness that made his chest tighten. "You wait for me, and I''ll wait for you."

    For a fleeting moment, Henryk¡¯s mind wandered back to the academy, to the women he''d left behind. Iman¡ªbright and fierce, her laughter ringing out over clinking glasses. Sirine, the girl he''d saved¡ªthe one he should¡¯ve been fighting for, should¡¯ve been standing beside as they rose through the ranks.

    But here he was, halfway across the galaxy, taking missions for House Mars as an acting squire. And now, in his arms, stood Piper¡ªMercurian royalty, a celebrity of the Sphere. Wrapped in that pilot suit, with light glinting off her armored curves, she looked like the most beautiful thing in the universe¡ªlike she¡¯d been forged from steel and fire just for him.

    Henryk swallowed back the ache in his throat, a slow smile creeping onto his face. "Okay," he said, voice low and careful, like he was afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. "I''ll wait for you... if you''ll wait for me."

    Piper¡¯s lips curved up, and her eyes fluttered closed, a hint of expectation painting her face. Henryk couldn¡¯t help but chuckle under his breath, rolling his eyes with a playful shake of his head. He wrapped his hands around her arms, pulled her in, and kissed her deeply, letting the world melt away around them.

    She melted into him, pressing closer, and his fingers dug into the fabric of her suit as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. Piper¡¯s lips moved against his with a slow, deliberate passion, like she was memorizing every detail¡ªthe taste of him, the warmth, the quiet hum of breath between them.

    When they finally parted, Piper stayed close, resting her forehead against his, eyes still closed, a contented smile on her face. Henryk couldn¡¯t help but let out a soft, breathless laugh, the weight of everything slipping away just for a moment, leaving nothing but her and the promise they¡¯d made.

    <u>Logan</u>

    ¡°You reading these fucking reports?¡± Logan¡¯s voice crackled through the comms, his tone sharp with irritation. From inside his Warcasket, he cut through the void like a predator, his machine thrumming with power. Below them loomed the academy''s home planet¡ªa blue orb with a single mega-continent, dotted by countless tiny islands scattered across vast oceans.

    Jace kept his own Warcasket steady, the pair gliding side by side through the star-specked blackness. Logan¡¯s voice was harsh and feverish, his frustration seeping into every syllable.

    ¡°The Martians are trying to regain their strength,¡± Logan snarled, gripping his trident with white-knuckled force. ¡°Linking back up with their old allies, and for what!¡± He was practically spitting with rage, sweat beading on his brow despite the cool cockpit. An asteroid floated lazily in their path, and without warning, Logan hefted the trident and hurled it forward.

    The great spear slammed into the rock, shattering it into glittering dust. The weapon snapped back into his hand with a magnetic hum, but Logan didn¡¯t ease up, his fury gnawing at him like a ravenous wolf.

    ¡°The Emperor ordered their world destroyed!¡± Logan barked, his eyes blazing. ¡°We should be ridding them from their rat nest and finishing the hunts¡ªnot giving them the privilege of getting back into the fold!¡±

    Jace gave a long, steadying breath. ¡°You¡¯ve got every right to be mad, but we¡¯ve got to be smart about this.¡± His eyes swept the darkness, scanning the black for movement. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here¡ªto meet them.¡±

    A grin tugged at his lips as two red blips appeared on his sensors, cutting through the void like crimson wraiths. The shapes resolved into Warcaskets, bulky and utilitarian, bristling with munitions. One bore the austere markings of House Pluto, the other the grim heraldry of House Saturn.

    ¡°President Gerald and President Ivan,¡± Jace spoke smoothly, dipping his head in mock respect. ¡°Glad you boys could make it on such short notice.¡±

    All four Warcaskets hovered a safe distance apart, silent but for the low hum of reactors and the occasional burst of comms static. Gerald¡¯s voice came first, gruff and skeptical.

    ¡°Why are we here?¡± President Gerald demanded, the bitterness evident even through the tinny radio. ¡°This is last-minute. Hell, it¡¯s end-of-day. Whatever you¡¯re planning, it better be worth the trouble.¡±

    Logan turned his Warcasket toward them, voice low and smoldering. ¡°My father and brother are waging an honorable war for dominion of the Oceana Sector¡­¡±

    Gerald gave a derisive snort, amusement tinging his tone. ¡°Here we go again.¡±

    Ivan just rolled his eyes, leaning back into his seat with a bored expression. ¡°What¡¯s the point, Logan? Are you seriously dragging us out here for more of your family drama?¡±

    Logan gritted his teeth, ignoring the contempt. ¡°The shaming of House Mars resulted in the loss of their planets. The Eunuch Emperor was too preoccupied to focus on redistribution, and thanks to certain leniencies in imperial law, some of these worlds have been going off outdated rules.¡±

    ¡°So they¡¯re not your rules,¡± Ivan cut in, his tone dripping with annoyance. ¡°You¡¯re saying this land belongs to you, but I don¡¯t get it. Why are we here? Why call us out?¡±

    Jace heaved a weary sigh, cutting in before Logan could start another tirade. ¡°Because both of you¡ªHouse Pluto and House Saturn¡ªare ancient enemies of House Mars.¡±

    There was a heavy silence, and though Gerald tried to hide it, Jace could hear the faint hitch of breath on the other end. He pressed on, voice low and deliberate.

    ¡°House Saturn,¡± Jace continued, ¡°you¡¯ve always made up the bulk of the military during real battles¡ªalways the unsung heroes while House Mars reaps the glory. And you, House Pluto¡­ You remember the great sacking, don¡¯t you? Mars, abducting and terrorizing your people¡ªburning your cities to ash, all in the name of birthright. Isn¡¯t it because of them that your people live in bunkers? That entire generations have never seen the sun? Famine and suffering¡ªthose are Mars¡¯s legacy. It¡¯s time you considered that.¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± Gerald¡¯s voice cut through the comms like a blade, harsh and unyielding. His Warcasket loomed in the black, motionless, but his glare burned through the screens. He pointed an accusing finger, his tone thick with contempt. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± he spat. ¡°You¡¯re trying to recruit our Houses into your cause¡ªfine. Admit it and be done with it.¡±

    Jace let out a long, weary sigh. ¡°We¡¯re asking you¡ªthe students at the academy¡ªto help Logan¡¯s father and brother in this war. The Martians are rising in power again. They¡¯ve got themselves a new Executor¡ªa real bastard, mind you.¡± He sneered, bitterness threading through his words. ¡°The Martians don¡¯t forget. They¡¯ll come for our throats if we don¡¯t destroy them¡ªroot and stem. Not just the planet¡ªall of them.¡±

    Gerald¡¯s eyes narrowed, his voice low and biting. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He sneered, disgust dripping from every word. ¡°You speak of Damien¡ªour greatest shame. He was nothing without the Martians¡¯ blessing. And I know the truth, Jace of Venus. It was those very Martians who hunted him and his sons down to the ends of the universe¡ªuntil all Damien could do was commit the worst murder-suicide in galactic history. The Martians didn¡¯t make him that way. We did.¡±

    Gerald turned away, his Warcasket already drifting off into the void. Logan bristled, his hands shaking with fury. ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± he spat. ¡°Those monsters fight with mutants and abominations! They destroyed your planet, killed your men, raped your women, enslaved your children¡ªand you¡¯ll give them mercy?¡± Logan¡¯s voice cracked with unbridled rage, but Gerald didn¡¯t even look back.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been House Pluto¡¯s president for years,¡± Gerald stated, his tone cold and resolute. ¡°And through those years, I¡¯ve learned to recognize when someone¡¯s trying to manipulate me. You¡¯re banking on my hate¡ªon my planet¡¯s hate. But I¡¯m not so easily swayed. Goodbye, Logan of Neptune, and Jace of Venus.¡±

    Logan¡¯s face twisted, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Gerald¡¯s Warcasket dwindled into the distance. ¡°Y-you BASTARD!¡± Logan howled, hefting his spear with murderous intent, but Jace¡¯s Warcasket moved quicker¡ªone steel limb grabbing his arm and holding it fast.

    ¡°Easy,¡± Jace cautioned, his tone measured. ¡°We still have one left.¡±

    Logan let out a twisted chuckle, turning his gaze to Ivan, whose Warcasket remained unmoved. Ivan¡¯s lips curled into a sneer. ¡°The Martians are some real bastards,¡± he muttered. ¡°If they rebuild their strength, they¡¯ll just replace us again. Things will go right back to the way they were before¡ªand we can¡¯t have that.¡± He inclined his head towards the pair, a calculating gleam in his eye. ¡°House Saturn¡ªthe main military¡ªwon¡¯t get involved.¡±

    ¡°That was to be expected,¡± Jace replied, his voice steady.

    Ivan took a deep breath, considering the weight of the decision. ¡°We could get into a lot of trouble for this,¡± he muttered, almost to himself.

    Logan let out a low, dark chuckle. ¡°But if all goes well¡ªand it will¡ªI¡¯ll make it my mission to reward you and every last student at the academy.¡±

    ¡°Me as well,¡± Jace added, his tone resolute.

    Ivan glanced between them, suspicion flickering in his eyes. ¡°What sort of fight do you have in this, Venusian?¡±

    Logan grinned, teeth bared like a wolf. ¡°Henryk Brown¡ªone of those Martians down there, I bet. He tried to fuck Jace¡¯s sister, Hannah. She¡¯s the Princess of Venus, and the son of a bitch tried it at his own party.¡±

    Ivan sneered, disgust evident in his voice. ¡°Nasty business. I get why you want him dead. But why drag us into it?¡±

    Logan sighed, his voice low and conflicted. ¡°I can¡¯t get involved without my father or brother¡¯s real permission. It could destroy our House. If the war effort goes south... they¡¯d never forgive me if I was the reason we lost. But I could never forgive myself for standing idly by.¡±

    Jace nodded, his jaw clenched. ¡°Same here. If they figured out Venus was involved, this whole war would shift. We¡¯re doing this for the safety of the galaxy... Men like Henryk and his Martians are going to drag us into a war whether we want it or not. And with the Emperor having no more kids... the Imperial ARC is done for. As soon as that power vacuum opens up, the Martians will start vying for control. Before long, we¡¯ll all be living in medieval hellholes¡ªjust like them.¡±

    Ivan¡¯s sigh rumbled through the comms like distant thunder. ¡°You¡¯re asking a lot. Greater evil aside... I¡¯d be lying to the real president of my government. Not just risking my life¡ªrisking my family, my crew, everyone who follows me. You know how Saturn is... our loyalty runs deep.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we do,¡± Logan replied, his tone somber and respectful. ¡°Strong warriors, fierce fighters¡ªhonorable to a fault. It¡¯s criminal how your government treats you... but maybe if you help us, we can help you. Make life better for your people¡ªfor everyone around you.¡±

    Silence stretched out, the void pressing in on all sides. Ivan¡¯s cockpit remained sealed, his expression hidden behind layers of reinforced glass and alloy. Then Logan¡¯s cockpit hissed open, the armored canopy lifting to reveal him still strapped into his seat. In the zero-gravity, he pushed out a small box, letting it drift across the space between their mechs.

    ¡°A gift,¡± Logan¡¯s voice crackled through the radio. Ivan hesitated before cracking open his own cockpit, reaching out to snatch the box from the void. Closing the hatch behind him, he cracked it open¡ªand yellow light spilled out, washing over his face and glasses.

    ¡°T-This...,¡± Ivan whispered, lifting the gleaming gold bar with both hands, his fingers tracing the engravings. ¡°I-it... it¡¯s real?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s real, trust me,¡± Logan assured him, leaning back into his cockpit with a confident grin. ¡°All I¡¯m asking is for you to falsify a couple of reports¡ªmove your people into specific positions. We¡¯ll make sure nothing can trace back to you. Money¡¯s just the start¡ªwe¡¯ll repaint your mechs, upgrade the systems... hell, I¡¯ll even pull some strings to get you new units or weaponry.¡±

    Ivan let out a raspy chuckle, his eyes fixed on the gold as the dim cockpit lights played over his face. His fingers traced the bar¡¯s edge like he couldn¡¯t believe it was real. Jace watched him through the screen, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

    ¡°Ivan... Ivan...¡± Jace mulled the name over, tasting its weight.

    Ivan¡¯s lips pulled into a crooked grin, his laughter coming in low, sporadic bursts. ¡°What¡¯s that one¡¯s name again¡ªH-Henry? Henryk?¡± He snapped his fingers as if summoning the memory. ¡°You wanted a war... I¡¯ll give you one.¡±

    <u>Henryk</u>

    ¡°Why are you so silent?¡± Adaline¡¯s voice filled the radio, smooth and bright, cutting through the static like a blade.

    Henryk couldn¡¯t help but smile, the widest, dumbest grin stretching his lips as he sat there, practically melting into his seat. His mind wouldn¡¯t let go of that kiss with Piper¡ªher face, her eyes, the way her lips tasted like salt and something sweet he couldn¡¯t quite place. He could still feel the phantom warmth on his mouth, and his heart thudded like a sledgehammer.

    She was so damn pretty. The guys from his hometown wouldn¡¯t have believed it even if they¡¯d seen it with their own eyes. He¡¯d watched her go, standing by the window as the carrier took her and that Martian suit away, shrinking into a speck against the sky. The memory hammered in his skull, refusing to leave him be.

    He was in the radio room, almost alone¡ªjust a couple of techs hunched over ancient consoles, more interested in their dials and screens than anything else. The room was a sprawling, semi-medium, irregular slope of steel and wiring, like a bunker filled with old radios. Static hummed around him, and the black-and-white screen flickered with the faces of Bea and Adaline, both leaning into frame and watching him with equal parts curiosity and amusement.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Henryk waved off, though the stupid grin still lingered on his face.

    ¡°How¡¯s Oceana II?¡± Bea asked, arching a brow.

    ¡°Just as medieval and feudal as I was told,¡± Henryk said, pausing to gather his thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful¡ªfeels like stepping into a time piece. In a... horrifyingly beautiful kind of way. Beautiful for all the worst and wrong reasons.¡±

    Bea and Adaline erupted into laughter, their voices overlapping in chaotic harmony.

    ¡°There¡¯s no heating¡ªeverything¡¯s done by serfs. Don¡¯t get me wrong, it¡¯s not all bad,¡± Henryk said, rubbing his chin.

    ¡°That¡¯s because you guys are knights and squires training to acquire the spikes,¡± Bea pointed out, shaking her head.

    ¡°You¡¯re practically nobility,¡± Adaline added, smirking.

    Henryk nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the floor. ¡°Yeah... would really suck to be some poor little serf living on the edge of the battlefield. It was a real shit show¡ªand I was hardly involved. Even from a distance, the stench carried for miles.¡±

    Silence settled over the radio for a moment, heavy and uncomfortable. Henryk sighed, drawing both sisters'' attention back to him.

    ¡°Listen,¡± he started, voice steady now. ¡°The person who rescued me gave me some new ideas for how I want my Warcasket to go.¡±

    Bea perked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. ¡°How did you feel about the added thrusters along the calves?¡±

    ¡°They were excellent,¡± Henryk said, nodding with enthusiasm. ¡°But I want to see if I can go even faster...¡± His eyes gleamed with excitement, and his fingers flexed in the air as if already piloting. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bit of experience with small transports, but I¡¯m thinking of doing something completely against the grain.¡±

    Adaline chuckled. ¡°Against the grain? What are you cooking up in that head of yours?¡±

    Henryk grinned. ¡°Ever heard of WarArmors?¡±

    Bea scoffed. ¡°Of course I have. I wouldn¡¯t be much of an engineer if I hadn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I want to try my hand at making a true transformable Warcasket,¡± Henryk said, and both girls'' eyes went wide.

    ¡°Woah, woah,¡± Bea chortled, holding up her hands. ¡°I respect your enthusiasm¡ªand your faith in my skills, Henryk¡ªbut you aren¡¯t the first person to try their hand at that. Plenty have tried. None have succeeded.¡±

    ¡°It would revolutionize the battlefield,¡± Henryk insisted, leaning forward. ¡°It¡¯s exactly what I had in mind for the high-mobility series. We can keep the ones we¡¯ve already made¡ªthe concept was a success. But this? This could be something entirely new.¡±

    Bea sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as if the stress had settled into her bones. ¡°At least Ed will be happy about it. I¡¯ve heard that Joseph wanted what you had...¡±

    Henryk let out a low chuckle, more confident now. ¡°Told you¡ªI know what I¡¯m doing. I don¡¯t know all the specifics, but the Mercurians created something they call a ¡®Mobilized Battleframe.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Mobilized Battleframe,¡± Bea repeated with a scoff, shaking her head. ¡°Dumb name.¡±

    Henryk shrugged it off. ¡°Forget the name¡ªthe point is that its joints can sync up and transform. Bea, I saw it. That thing handled atmospheric reentry like it was a casual stroll.¡±

    Both Bea and Adaline glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. Bea¡¯s face twisted with curiosity, but before she could ask more, Adaline interjected, pouting. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t hog the radio! I wanna talk to Henryk too!¡±

    Bea gave her a sharp look. ¡°Adaline, don¡¯t you have school early tomorrow? Isn¡¯t that field trip happening?¡±

    Adaline¡¯s eyes widened, and she stomped her foot in frustration. ¡°Come on! Why is it always you that gets to talk to him? It¡¯s not fair¡ª¡±

    ¡°Adaline, bedroom, now,¡± Bea snapped, her tone brooking no argument.

    ¡°God, you¡¯re so ANNOYING!¡± Adaline dragged the word out, punctuating it with a loud huff as she stomped toward the elevator. Bea didn¡¯t relax until she heard the ding, signaling her sister had reached ground level.

    With the tension finally releasing from her shoulders, Bea let out a groan and ran a hand through her hair. ¡°Fucking teenagers,¡± she muttered. Turning back toward the radio camera, she found Henryk leaning back, his face barely illuminated by the flickering console light.

    ¡°Henryk, you¡¯ve got sisters, right?¡± Bea asked, her voice softer now.

    He nodded slowly. ¡°Two of ¡¯em.¡±

    ¡°Older or younger?¡±

    ¡°Younger. About a ten-year gap between us,¡± Henryk replied, a hint of a smile creeping back onto his face.

    Bea snorted, bitter and exhausted. ¡°Sometimes I think that would¡¯ve been for the best. After our parents were killed by sacrene, Adaline naturally looked up to me. But now... now she¡¯s older, and she wants to go out late, do reckless shit, and I¡¯m just the annoying big sister holding her back. Ed¡¯s got her all riled up with his stories of riches and adventures...¡±

    Henryk leaned forward, folding his hands. ¡°¡­You want some advice from a big brother with two little sisters?¡±

    Bea didn¡¯t answer immediately, but her silence said enough. Finally, she let out a long, drawn-out breath.

    ¡°Just support her,¡± Henryk said softly. ¡°That¡¯s all you really can do. Sir William¡ªEd told me he¡¯s gone. And I...¡± He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts.

    Bea¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Me and Adaline had different mothers,¡± she muttered, almost like the words left a bad taste in her mouth. ¡°The old man didn¡¯t even wait a month before shacking up with a new wife.¡± Her eyes widened as if suddenly realizing something. ¡°You know Adaline¡¯s my half-sister, right?¡±

    Henryk nodded, more to himself than to her. ¡°Figured as much. Could¡¯ve been a genetic mutation too. I inherited magic from my mother, but my sisters didn¡¯t get the gift.¡±

    Bea scoffed, shaking her head. ¡°Inheritance... Hell, Adaline¡¯s mutation makes her more desirable. Even though she¡¯s younger, the way she looks¡ªif the Martians were still around, our father would¡¯ve already been courting suitors for her.¡±

    Henryk frowned. ¡°Her mutation makes her desirable?¡±

    Bea¡¯s shoulders slumped, her voice almost a whisper. ¡°Red. To us... to the Martians, red is a sacred color. Look at Adaline¡ªcrimson hair, red, sun-baked skin like the sands of Mars. Her mother had the blessing. It naturally transferred to her. The pride of our house.¡±

    Silence wrapped around them like a suffocating shroud. Henryk didn¡¯t know what to say, how to respond. They¡¯d started talking about Warcaskets, and somehow it had spiraled into this¡ª

    Bea''s lips twisted into a bitter smile, her gaze distant. ¡°She¡¯s seventeen now¡ªjust a couple of months off from eighteen... but if the old man were still around, he¡¯d be marrying her off to some noble or knight.¡± She sneered, but there was a hollow, aching sound to it. ¡°Her dreams of singing, dancing, becoming an idol... Girly stuff, sure, but those are her dreams. If Mars hadn¡¯t fallen, she¡¯d have been forced into a life she had no choice in.¡±

    Henryk saw it then¡ªthe raw wound that pulsed just beneath the surface. A sister¡¯s desperate love tangled with resentment for a fate that never fully unraveled.

    ¡°We can¡¯t change the past, Bea,¡± Henryk said softly. Her eyes snapped toward him, widened and cautious, like she wasn¡¯t sure whether to be angry or grateful. ¡°I¡¯m not a Martian. Honestly... I¡¯m still trying to figure out what being a Knight of Mars even means. All I know are the people who showed me kindness, took me in. And all I keep hearing about are how their forefathers were monsters...¡±

    Bea¡¯s voice came back sharp but measured. ¡°They weren¡¯t all horrible. Sure, there were bastards like my father. But there were great knights too¡ªmen who embodied what House Mars was supposed to be. Maybe you¡¯ll end up one of them.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at that, and Bea glared, but it wasn¡¯t the harsh kind¡ªmore like an exhausted sister scolding her younger sibling.

    ¡°I¡¯m not joking, Henryk Brown,¡± she said sternly. ¡°Inheritance¡ªthat¡¯s all we have in the end. Family name, legacy. No matter how much I hate my father, that truth doesn¡¯t change. Maybe... maybe I get why you¡¯re so driven by this idea.¡±

    Henryk smirked, leaning back. ¡°People always say it¡ªMartians know Warcaskets and warfare. You all know your shit. There¡¯s gotta be something more to it¡ªsomething the Mercurians figured out. Maybe they cracked the code.¡±

    Bea rolled her eyes. ¡°Or maybe they didn¡¯t, and all they came up with was some half-assed transformable mobile suit. Just because it works doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s good.¡±

    He didn¡¯t answer right away, letting the idea settle. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the data and specs. Everything I managed to recover. And when I come back, we¡¯ll start working on the new model.¡±

    Bea¡¯s eyes widened, and her lips parted like she couldn¡¯t believe what she was hearing. ¡°A new model?¡± she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re planning on making a completely new suit?¡±

    Henryk grinned, thumbing his chest with pride. ¡°An ace unit built just for me. Don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªI know our limits.¡± He began counting on his fingers. ¡°One-to-five-second transformation. Capable of handling both Warcasket mode and Stargazer mode in various atmospheres. A loadout that doesn¡¯t slow me down, adaptable for both modes. I¡¯ll probably use the MSN-01 model as a template for ease of parts... and... and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Henryk Brown, enough!¡± Bea shouted, throwing both hands up, and Henryk stopped mid-sentence.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure we can pull off even half of that list!¡± she said, her voice caught between exasperation and disbelief.

    He just waved it off, a determined glint in his eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll find a way. Even if we have to go through prototype after prototype, test type after test type.¡± He tapped his fingertips together thoughtfully. ¡°Two models: MTW-01 Stargazer and MTW-02 Stargazer.¡±

    ¡°Two units?¡± Bea repeated, narrowing her eyes at the camera. ¡°StarGazer? Really?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m calling them,¡± Henryk replied, confident. ¡°MTW¡ªMartian Transformable Warcasket. StarGazer. It just feels right.¡±

    Bea sighed, shaking her head with a half-smile. ¡°You¡¯re crazy, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Henryk admitted with a smirk. ¡°But crazy¡¯s gotten us this far.¡±