*hiss!
Steady fumes hissed from Amaron's metallic jaw as he leaned forward and bowed deeply in the presence of Venedix.
*click! *hisss! *clack!
His mechanical body, composed of reinforced alloys and exposed wiring, clicked and groaned as he moved.
His arms and legs emitted a series of sharp snapping sounds as their internal cogs spun and locked into place, the rhythmic clank of gears echoing with every motion.
"Amaron has arrived, Your Excellency!" he declared, rising from his bow.
His mechanical eyes shifted and clicked as they adjusted focus—locking onto Jinn's trembling body lying motionless on the scorched ground.
"The boy... is dying."
"You think I can't see that?" Venedix snapped, turning her head sharply to glare at him.
Her eyes narrowed, intense and piercing.
The edge in her voice cut deeper than any sword.
Amaron flinched immediately at her scorn, his posture stiffening.
"M-My apologies! I dare not question your capabilities!" he stammered, raising both hands in surrender.
Steam vented nervously from the joints of his shoulders and neck, a physical sign of his internal anxiety.
His body trembled slightly—not from fear of death, but from the discomfort of drawing her ire.
Then he noticed her gaze still fixed on him, unblinking and annoyed.
"O-On it!" he stuttered again and immediately knelt beside Jinn, his posture straightening as he entered diagnostic mode.
*click! *whirrr...
The soft whirring of servos echoed from within his head as his mechanical eyes turned from red to bright blue, activating his internal scanning functions to assess the boy's condition on a microscopic level.
He saw it all clearly.
Jinn's body was fractured and battered.
Bones were broken in several places.
Multiple organs had sustained severe trauma.
His bloodstream was overloaded, the surge of powerful foreign energy wreaking havoc inside him—like a storm twisting every part of him apart.
"First things first," Amaron muttered to himself as he extended both arms.
His metal fingers began to glow with a subtle green hue as healing energy gathered at his palms.
He gently placed them on Jinn's chest, directing the flow of life-restoring energy into the boy's damaged body.
Now, three powerful forces swirled inside Jinn.
The first, from the crystal—an ancient artifact that had pulled him back from death.
The second, from Venedix—a forceful and commanding catalyst, without which the crystal would not have activated.
The third, from Amaron—a stabilizing healing current, designed not to overpower but to balance.
It repaired tissue, mended veins, calmed the frantic surge of energy, and closed up the worst of Jinn's wounds.
"This will be enough," Amaron whispered as he watched the energy flow take shape, his glowing eyes analyzing the fusion of magic and science within the boy.
"At least enough for him to survive the aftermath…"
The effects were visible.
Jinn's body slowly ceased convulsing.
The gaping wounds he had suffered in his brutal duel with Venedix began to close, the bleeding slowed, and the pressure inside his body gradually decreased.
But there were limits.
"Both his eye and his arm are gone, Your Excellency," Amaron reported, turning his gaze toward Jinn's mangled leg.
"And he'll require surgery on one of his legs if he is ever to walk again."
"Mhm. Well done, Amaron," Venedix said calmly, her tone light as she glanced at her officer.
Then her focus returned to Jinn, her gaze narrowing.
"I have decided—I will be taking this child with me."
Ophelia, still clutching Jinn's hand and within earshot, stepped forward with urgency.
"Y-You can't!" she cried out, her voice cracking from desperation and disbelief.
"Oh, but she can, child."
The whir of servos and the soft hiss of steam accompanied Amaron's head rotating toward her.
Unlike his tone with Venedix, this voice held no hint of nervousness—only cold, robotic certainty.
Turning his mechanical head back toward Venedix, Amaron asked curiously, "But what made you so interested in this little boy, Battlemaster?"
A stillness followed—quiet, brief, but weighty.
The question lingered in the air, unanswered at first, as though it required careful thought.
Venedix broke the silence.
"My mind is puzzled," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself.
"Perhaps it was curiosity… or perhaps this child is destined to become something more. Or perhaps—I am simply wrong."
Then, with a final flicker of crimson light, the restoration process ended.
She removed her hand from Jinn's chest and stood tall.
"Perchance, in the future, we will know the destiny of this child."
She stepped forward, her armored hands wrapping gently around Jinn's weakened frame as she lifted him into her arms.
"But there is one thing I am certain of," she continued.
"We must nurture this child, and only then will we find our answer."
Though his body was trembling, his muscles weak from the strain, Jinn managed to summon what little strength he had left.
One of his hands reached up and clutched the collar of her armor.
"You can't take me…" he muttered.
Venedix raised a brow slightly as she looked down at him.
"I will be the one to decide everything from now on—child," she stated coldly.
Then, turning her head, she addressed a nearby figure. "Commander Emerith."
The man approached immediately and gave a crisp salute. "Yes, Battlemaster. Your orders?"
Venedix flicked her wrist toward the crowd of prisoners and civilians.
"Let the captives go. I've already taken what I wanted from this place."
"At once, Battlemaster." Emerith bowed and turned away, leaving to coordinate with the soldiers under his command.
Jinn, still in Venedix's arms, twisted and writhed.
His body was weak, but his spirit wasn't.
He thrashed until he slipped from her grip and fell to the ground with a loud
*thud!
"Tsk," Venedix clicked her tongue, clearly irritated.
"I gave you a second chance, child. I spared lives. I brought you back from death. I gave you power—yet you disrespect all of it?"
Ophelia seized the opportunity.
She sprinted toward Jinn, her legs trembling from exhaustion, but her will unbroken.
She reached him, knelt down, and dragged him back a small distance, shielding him with her body.
"You won't take Jinn from us again!" she shouted defiantly.
Her arms trembled, but her grip was firm as she held Jinn close.
She refused to let him be taken away.
Venedix paused.
Her eyes scanned both Ophelia and Jinn, and something shifted in her expression—an emotion she hadn't expected.
"I see…" she muttered. "So it was loyalty."
"Loyalty to your friends—to the point where you'd throw your life away for them," she said, her voice louder now.
"I misjudged you, Jinn."
She took a step closer.
"You're nothing but a fool. A fool who risks everything for such insignificant things—when you're this pathetically weak."
Jinn blinked.
His mind raced.
Why did she care so much about loyalty?
Why did this topic, of all things, seem to provoke her so deeply?
The concept of loyalty was something the Empire of Zerafhon valued—yet Venedix seemed to scorn it now.
Something clicked in his mind.
With a tired smirk and narrowed eyes, he muttered, "Heh… I'd gladly do it all over again. If time turned back, I wouldn't change a thing."
Amaron covered his mouth with his metal hand, trying to stifle a laugh.
"Pft! The child is stubborn to his core!"
Venedix shot Amaron a cold look, causing him to straighten and freeze in place.
Then she scoffed.
"Very well. I shall take you… and your friends."
She leaned in closer to Jinn's ear, whispering in a much darker tone.
"But instead of becoming my apprentice… you will suffer alongside them—as slaves, for now at least."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, deep and haunting.
"Claw your way up. Bare your fangs. Rise through the pits of darkness. And when everything's gone—even your friends—we will meet again."
*flap!
With her cloak billowing behind her in the wind, Venedix turned her back and began walking toward the captives' holding area.
"Hey!" Jinn called out with what voice he had left. "You better keep your hands off the captives!"
"Ungrateful brat," Venedix muttered as she approached Commander Emerith, their voices fading into unintelligible murmurs.
Suddenly, Jinn felt something tap the top of his head.
It was Amaron's metallic hand.
"She really is something, eh?" Amaron said, leaning closer. "Little Jinn—did I say it right?"
His jaw clicked repeatedly as steam and gas escaped through the vents around his face, making Jinn cough.
"Cough! Keep your distance—you pile of bolts," Jinn groaned, swatting him away.
Amaron chuckled, stepping back. "Haha! You talk just like her. How amusing."
===
After a few minutes passed, during which Venedix discussed with Commander Emerith, a decision was clearly made.
The guards surrounding the perimeter began to loosen, and soon after, Jinn's friends were allowed to approach—freely, for the first time since the duel began.
The sound of footsteps came fast—too fast.
"What the hell—Is that Jinn!?" Verhedyn shouted, eyes wide with disbelief as he pointed toward Jinn's bruised and bloodied form lying beside Ophelia.
Orin's face lit up with sudden hope, her mouth stretching into a smile despite the tears that still streaked her face.
"Everyone! He's alive!" she cried, her voice trembling.
Adjusting his broken glasses, Vox blinked several times, his mind struggling to accept what he was seeing.
"I swear—that woman drove her sword straight through his stomach!" he exclaimed.
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt on his cheeks.
"J-Jinn!" Kain shouted, leaping forward and crashing into him with a hug.
*thud!
Amaron flinched.
His metallic joints tensed.
"Woah, woah, woah!" he cried out.
"Easy on the patient! He just completed a resurrection procedure—extremely volatile! We must get him onto the ship immediately!"
His face remained still and expressionless—as expected of a machine—but the way his tone shifted, rising in volume and urgency, revealed a sliver of genuine concern.
Orin narrowed her eyes, glaring at Amaron.
She then turned back to Jinn, noticing his labored breathing.
"Wait a second… what does that walking trashcan mean by 'getting on a ship?'" Her voice was sharp, the question pointed.
Jinn scratched the back of his head with his only remaining arm and answered, his voice soft, tired.
"It looks like… we're being taken as slaves. In exchange for the lives of the civilians."
Silence.
The joy from moments ago vanished like smoke.
"Shit," Verhedyn muttered.
One word—but it carried the weight of everything they all felt.
That single word hung in the air, cold and cruel.
For a moment, none of them said anything.
Not even the wind dared to interrupt.
Then Hector—the oldest of the group—broke the silence.
"Don't worry, Jinn," he said calmly.
"Even if we get sent into the void, as long as we stay together…"
His voice was like a beacon.
A reminder.
His words lit a spark within the others—a spark of unity, of something stronger than despair.
The unshakable strength of friendship forged through trials.
"I—I'm sorry, guys…" Jinn said, his voice cracking.
"N-Nevi, she…"
His throat tightened.
It was as if invisible hands choked him every time he tried to say her name.
The memory of her body, lying still and cold in the street, blood seeping from her frame—it wouldn't go away.
He had failed to protect her.
He could never forget it.
"N-Nevi…!?" Orin whispered.
Her knees gave out, and she collapsed.
*thud!
She didn't even brace herself as she hit the ground.
Tears flowed down her face—silent and steady.
"Damn the Zeraf…" she whispered, hatred swelling in her heart.
Her hands clenched into fists as she slammed the ground,
*bang!
teeth gritted.
"I swear on you, Nevi… I will burn Zerafhon to the ground!"
Her voice cut through the stillness like a sword, raw with fury.
She reached into her tunic and pulled out a small pendant—the one that used to hang from Nevi's neck.
"I'm sorry, Orin…" Jinn muttered.
His hand trembled as he reached toward her, but he couldn't even bring himself to touch her shoulder.
Orin slowly turned her head, meeting Jinn's gaze with swollen, tear-soaked eyes.
"I-It's not your fault, Jinn… The Zerafhon is to blame. Their wars, their greed… not us."
She struck the ground again.
"They already rule over thousands of worlds! When will it ever be enough!?"
"It will never be enough, child," Amaron responded, his voice low.
His mechanical eyes locked onto her.
"The strong will forever govern the weak—that is how reality works and will forever will be."
He stared off into the sky, his face expressionless, as if haunted by something far older than any of them could understand.
"But alas…" he muttered, "you're still young to understand such simple logic."
"Fuck you!" Orin snapped.
She scooped up a handful of dust and flung it at him—it scattered in the air, never even reaching his feet.
"Why does that have to be our problem!? Why do you have to target us—the innocent—for your own damn greed!?"
Amaron slowly approached her, steam hissing from the joints of his legs.
"Because we are strong," he said.
"Simple as that."
Orin froze.
The reply was so blunt, so unapologetic, it left her speechless.
It was the truth.
The ugly, undeniable truth of the world they lived in—the strong preyed on the weak.
That was all there was to it.
"Why does life have to be so cruel?" she whispered to herself.
A quiet question with no answer.
But in that moment, something within her shifted.
Something hardened.
She clenched her jaw.
She would get stronger.
She would get revenge.
"Looks like we don't have a choice," Verhedyn said after a long pause.
"I mean… being a slave is still better than dying, right?"
His voice was serious, unusually solemn.
He looked around at each of them.
"As long as we stick together—whatever kind of hell we get thrown into… might not be so bad."
Hector gave a soft shrug.
"Better get those back muscles ready, Verhedyn. We'll be mining some backwater asteroid soon."
Orin nodded grimly.
"Or worse—used as cannon fodder for their pathetic wars."
Ophelia, still holding Jinn close, looked down and asked gently, "Jinn… where did you last see Nevi? I want to pray for her."
Jinn weakly raised his hand and pointed across the field.
"See that blaze over there?" he said softly.
"That's where Nevi… was."
They all turned.
The fire still raged in the distance, black smoke rising into the sky.
Smoldering ash filled the air.
That was the spot where she had fallen.
Where she had breathed her last.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
The silence was heavy, almost unbearable.
Ophelia, still on her knees, brought her hands together and bowed her head.
Her fingers trembled as she whispered a prayer to the gods of Old Seraphim.
"May Nevi's spirit find peace in the celestial beyond… nirvreka en Nevi o Seraphim."
As she prayed, Amaron's mechanical eye flickered blue.
He scanned her, noting something… unusual.
An aura—not visible to the others—was forming around her.
It was faint, but holy in nature.
Righteous.
Familiar.
"How interesting…" he muttered to himself.
Just then, from beyond the field, the loud cries of joy from the civilians broke the silence.
Cheers and laughter echoed across the once-hopeless plain.
Jinn turned and saw them—families reunited, children clinging to parents, the freed captives embracing their survival.
Tears of joy, smiles through soot and pain.
He smiled faintly, a tear sliding from the corner of his eye.
"Nevi… you were right," he whispered.
"It's not so bad… being a hero once in a while."
As the celebration dimmed, the soldiers of Zerafhon began retreating, forming ranks. Commander Emerith regrouped with his squad.
Several armored soldiers arrived beside Jinn and his friends, ready to escort them toward the dropship.
They made no threats, only gestured in silence.
Jinn, barely able to move, was carried once again—this time by Amaron.
As he looked back, he saw her.
Venedix.
Her sharp, calculating eyes met his.
And he stared back—not with fear, but with resolve.
He said nothing, but his eyes screamed it:
I will prove you wrong.
Venedix gave a stare, almost imperceptible, before turning sharply.
Her cloak whipped behind her as she stepped aboard her personal dropship.
*vvrrrrrrrrr!!!
The ship's doors roared to life with a mechanical whir, drowning out the distant cheers and crackling flames.
Jinn looked back one last time.
His home—torn apart, burning.
Everything he knew was now ash.
"Together," he said, his voice firm as he looked toward his friends.
"Heh, you got that right," Verhedyn replied, smirking.
Ophelia, Kain, and Orin nodded—each of them carrying something different.
One with silent strength, one with trembling fear, and one with burning rage.
"Wherever you go, we follow," said Hector, resting an arm on Vox's shoulder.
Vox gave a confident thumbs-up. "Damn straight."
And so, together, they were escorted to the colossal dreadnought—the pride of House Sorellia.
Their destination?
Juggernot XII.
The homeworld of the Empire of Zerafhon.