Ethan stepped out from the command deck of his Sky Fortress, rising into the air to meet the man face-to-face.
He hovered there, eyes sharp as blades. "Sol'Rakka doesn't provoke other nations," he said coldly. "Your Sky Fortresses were the ones that descended first—slaughtering civilians, leveling cities. And now you ask why we're here?"
His voice cut through the sky like a drawn sword.
"You really think that's a question worth asking?"
The man across from him froze.
His mouth opened slightly, but no words came. Instead, he reached to his waist, pulled out a small mechanical sphere, and tossed it toward Ethan.
It spun through the air, stopping neatly in Ethan's palm.
Dark gold. Cool to the touch. Its surface was etched with dense micro-runes and energy ports, pulsing faintly with residual power.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "This is… an exosuit core?"
The man's voice shifted—softer now, and beneath it, a weariness that couldn't be faked.
