Kruger

The battlefield screamed behind them.

Kruger shock-troopers covered the retreat—grinding down Voidlings with plasma salvos and exo-augmented strength. Their bodies were already half-ruined from the war, but they fought like they owed the Void a debt in blood.

The retreat was brutal. Tactical. Barely survivable.

Kaiell and the others made it to the inner bunker, nestled in the black rock of Jou's northern cliff ravine. It was older than the Empire itself—built in the Rift Wars when soldiers didn't survive long enough to need names. Its walls were still etched with warning sigils, dull from centuries of corrosion.

The doors sealed behind them with a grinding hiss.

Seventeen remained.

Some could barely stand. Others clutched shattered weapons or missing limbs. Most didn't speak.

Kaiell stumbled into the med chamber. The walls flickered with triage scans, but no one came to help. Too many dead. Not enough left to care.

Nightfell still clung to his back, humming faintly.

Why do you feel heavier when I'm near death? he thought.Or is that when you're most alive?

Before the thought could settle, the two guards outside the chamber snapped to attention.

Someone was coming.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the stone corridor—measured, not rushed. Like gravity bowed to his armor.

Marshal Jino stepped inside.

A behemoth of a man clad in matte-white Kruger plate, marked with the crimson insignia of the Inquisitors—the elite force just beneath the Seven. His rebreather hissed softly as he entered, eyes narrowed behind scarred browlines.

Jino stopped a meter from Kaiell and said nothing.

Just stared.

Then—

"You summoned a Legion blade."

Kaiell straightened, ribs aching. "It's called Nightfell," he said quietly. "I didn't forge it. It... chose me."

Jino extended a gauntleted hand.

"Let me see it."

Kaiell hesitated, but unclipped the blade. The moment it left his hand, the air changed—thickened. A low vibration rolled through the room, as if reality was watching.

Jino inspected it. The blade shifted slightly, almost resisting him.

He didn't flinch.

"Only a handful of Viora-bearers have ever done this," Jino murmured."A Rift-forged weapon, pulled from the Valley of Blades. Not summoned. Remembered.""This isn't just a sword. It's a memory made metal."

Kaiell blinked. "Valley of Blades?"

Jino met his eyes.

"A myth. A battlefield in the fold between Rifts. Before the Empire. Before the Inquisitors. A place where a race of humanlike ancients built sentient weapons and sent them to war. The Noble Houses of the Core sometimes awaken a blade from that place.""You, a miner from Rust-12... did it by instinct."

He handed the blade back. Nightfell shimmered faintly as it returned to Kaiell's hand. It felt warmer now. Closer.

"That makes you rare," Jino said, voice flat. "Or dangerous."

Kaiell swallowed.

I never asked for this.

"You're not a candidate anymore," Jino added. "You're a potential wielder. The kind of soul empires use—until they can't control it."

Before Kaiell could respond, the comms buzzed.

A young Kruger officer sprinted into the chamber, breath sharp.

"Marshal! Inquisitor Nelis has pierced the Voidstorm! He's descending now—ETA: five minutes!"

For the first time, Jino's expression cracked. Just a little.

"Good. We needed a miracle."

He turned back to Kaiell.

"Nelis is an Imperial Mage. The youngest of our Inquisitors. He's not one of the Seven, but he's earned his place in flame and blood.""He's a Viora Dispeller. Where we bend the Rift, he shatters it. Voidlings unravel when he walks near."

A tremor rumbled beneath their boots. Distant thunder. The Mage was closing in—its storm thickening, circling like a predator.

Kaiell stood, pain forgotten.

"And if he doesn't make it?"

Jino studied him.

Not as a commander.

As a man.

"Then you're the last thing standing between this world and the abyss."

High above Jou...

The sky split open.

From beyond the Voidstorm's highest coils, a capsule roared downward—sigil-etched, ablaze with light. Symbols of Inquisition wrapped around it in gold rings.

Inside it stood Nelis.

His armor was black with violet inlays, his cape tucked and battle-scored. He held a long staff with a twin-ring emitter, humming faintly.

His eyes were closed.

His lips moved in rhythm.

Right, here we go again.Gods, I hope they're still breathing down there.Don't die before I land, Jino. I like your grumpy face too much to see it dead.

As the pod broke through the clouds, Riftlight tried to claw at its hull. Voidlings twisted upward in coiling shapes, shrieking.

Nelis just smiled.

"Let's dance, bitches."

The pod ignited a repulse field and plummeted like a meteor.

Far above them all…

Two massive Kruger fleets dropped into orbit from FTL translation fields.

The Warship Veritas, commanded by Pablo El'Vertigo, and the Judgment Wound, led by Karna Voco, began deploying command pods and orbital stabilizers to prepare for planetary insertion.

Within the command chamber of Veritas, Pablo stood with arms folded, watching Nelis's descent.

You always did love the flashy entrances, Nelis.Just hold the line. We're coming. With fire.

And aboard Judgment Wound, Karna Voco's eyes scanned datafeeds.

"If the Mage reaches full Voidstorm Ascension," he said to his adjutant, "then this world burns."

He turned to his pilots.

"Get me to the surface."