A figure dropped from the sky. A young man. His frame still carried the edges of youth, but there was a hard leanness under the skin, the kind that said he wasn't nearly as fragile as he looked. He kept staring upward with cold indifference, as though whatever waited for him below wasn't worth caring about.
The wind roared in his ears, nothing else. Then another sound bled in, metal clanking against stone. Faint at first, then louder. A mockery of a countdown to impact.
As soon as his eyes closed, the ground welcomed him with a brutal crack. Stone split under the weight.
The hammering stopped.
Ash opened his eyes. His expression hadn't shifted. His gaze was still locked on the sky, detached and unbothered. He let out a single breath.
"I guess that wasn't high enough. Figures. No wonder Max didn't bother stopping me."
Pain raked through him, but it wasn't death. It never was. And he hated that he already knew it wouldn't work. Ever since his mother's death, he'd begged for an end. Fate, as usual, just laughed in his face.
Voices rose around him, muttering, overlapping. Ash didn't catch everything, but he caught enough. The same kind of talk he'd heard all his life.
"What the hell kind of fall was that? Wait... I know that face and that black hair. That's the Burns kid, isn't it? The one with the Tier 5 vessel. Ashley Burns, right? What's he doing here?"
"Has to be insane, showing up in a place like this. Doesn't he know how dangerous it is? I mean, yeah, he's supposed to be a decent swordsman... but wasn't he the one they call Stage One trash?"
"I thought he was still at the Ascended Academy. Don't tell me the tournament's started already... how long have we been stuck on this planet?"
"No, he looks too young to be in any real team. Although... a while back I heard he joined Team Vortex. Thought it was a joke. Judging by that outfit though? Guess it wasn't."
"Didn't he quit the Academy after his mom died? Went hermit for a while. So the rumors were true. Kid really does have a death wish. But seriously, how are you all ignoring the fact he's on a whole other planet?"
Ash sat up slowly, dragging his body into something like a seated position. His eyes swept the area. Dozens of men surrounded him — miners. Pickaxes and drills in hand, dirty, scarred, and staring at him like he'd just broken their reality.
Some looked nervous. Others awed. Not because he had fallen from the damn sky. That wasn't it. It was the insignia stitched on his clothes. He belonged to an elite Team of Ascended.
Ascended weren't ordinary men. They were the rare few who had forced their souls past the mortal stage, climbing into power most people couldn't even describe, let alone reach. An Ascended of the 4th stage could carve through armies. A team of them? That was a force that bent the world's rules.
But miners didn't gawk at Ascended for nothing. No, they were afraid because these miners weren't just miners. They worked for Apex.
Apex — one of the countless organizations clawing for world domination, but more dangerous than most because no one actually knew what they wanted. Their schemes were shadows in the dark, and whatever they touched usually collapsed into crisis. Settlement fell. Cities burned. And yet men still joined them. Not out of loyalty. Out of hunger. Because Apex paid better than anyone. Because they never ran out of dirty work.
Ash didn't know what Apex was doing here, carving holes into some nameless planet. But he didn't need to. Apex only ever had one reason to be anywhere. Trouble.
Ash did not move. His body pulsed with pain from the fall, every nerve screaming at him like it had something new to prove. He needed time, and his body was in no rush to give it. The miners kept staring, whispering to each other with that mix of fear and fascination usually reserved for freak shows. Then their heads all tilted toward the sky.
A low rumble cut through the air, the kind that made the ground vibrate. Not thunder but engines.
Ash did not bother to look up. He already knew who it was. He had fallen right into their nest, and apparently fate enjoyed adding insult to injury.
The ships descended with perfect symmetry, sleek and polished, the kind of design that only existed to remind people how powerless they were. When they landed, hatches hissed open and squads poured out. Their uniforms were a void-black weave traced with faint violet lines that pulsed like veins full of poison. Each one carried a rifle that looked engineered to erase anything unlucky enough to exist in front of it.
One miner shouted with relief.
"The Apex troopers are here!"
Another snorted.
"Kid's dead. Whatever he thought he was doing, that's over."
Ash's expression never changed. He watched as the troopers surrounded him, rifles raised. Their precision might have impressed anyone else. He welcomed it. None of them could kill him, though he almost wished they could.
The commander stepped forward, a little too proud in his armor, and raised his hand.
"Fire!"
The rifles lit up. Energy bolts ripped the air, tearing into the ground around Ash until it was nothing but fire, heat, and pulverized stone.
The commander barked over the assault, his voice cracking with effort.
"Do not stop! He has a Tier 5 vessel! keep firing until I see what's left of him scattered across the dirt!"
The barrage dragged on, long enough to feel almost personal. Then silence.
The smoke cleared.
Ash still stood, untouched, a hollow shield shimmering faintly around him. His eyes met the commander's without interest. His face looked like it had been carved to never care.
He sighed.
"Max."
It figured. His brother's tech, saving him yet again. Ash hated that he hadn't seen it coming. His entire life had been this way — fate propping him up, making sure he survived. It wasn't a gift. It was a curse. Even his Tier 5 vessel was not because he was special. It was because something out there still wanted him alive. To fulfill some "destiny" he had no interest in or want to let happened. And that was exactly why he wanted to die.
The commander lifted his hand again, desperate to recover some authority.
"Prepare to fire again—"
He never finished.
A wall of fire erupted, curling high and encircling Ash in a blazing ring. The troopers stumbled backward, their discipline burned away by fear. They already knew what this meant.
The ground split with a new impact as a figure crashed beside Ash like a falling star.
Ash rolled his eyes.
"Of course."
The new arrival rose from the crater, his features echoing Ash's but carried on a face that was sharper, cockier, and designed to make enemies hate him instantly. His black hair gleamed in the firelight, split down the center by a single streak of blood-red.
Mikael.
He looked at Ash and let the flames sink back into the dirt. His smirk was sharp and pleased.
"What a pathetic sight. You can barely move, can you? Max is furious. Said he expected a reckless stunt like this from me, not from you."
Ash tilted his head slightly toward the horizon, where a man in the distance struggled with something half-buried. Ash said in a low and flat tone.
"So Max really is still on the ship. I did not expect his shields to reach this far. Disappointing."
Kael chuckled, turning back toward his brother, his eyes narrowing with the kind of smug certainty only he could wear.
"You know you cannot die, Ash. Stop embarrassing yourself by trying."
Ash gave him the barest glance.
"Thank you for the reminder. I almost forgot."
The troopers stayed frozen, their rifles lowered by fear they could not swallow. Even the commander looked hollow now, caught between duty and the very real possibility of being burned alive.
Ash finally stood, slow and steady. The pain dulled, leaving only an ache that he wore like a second skin. He walked toward the object the miner had failed to lift. The man had already fled, and wisely so.
The weapon waited for him.
A wakizashi embedded in the dirt, its black steel shimmering like crushed stone caught in the light. It had fallen with him, as indestructible as he was. Varagos scientists had studied it for years, and all they had to show for their efforts was confusion.
Ash wrapped his hand around the hilt, lifting the blade free. It felt heavy in the way that memories felt heavy. This weapon was his mother's final gift to him. The only thing of hers that fate had not stolen.
He stared into the black steel and saw his own reflection, a ghost staring back.
"Well, Kael," he said quietly with a tired but edged tone. "Shall we finish this mission before something else comes along to waste our time?"