The yard smelled of iron and dust. Rows of soldiers shouted in rhythm as their boots struck the ground, the sound echoing against the steel walls that ringed the training field. The air shimmered faintly from the heat of their exertion, but none of them slowed. The Empire demanded no less.
Kael stood among them, a single figure lost in the rhythm of fists and feet. His gloves were worn, the knuckles darkened from years of impact. Every strike met the training pillars with a dull, solid thud that reverberated through his arms. Sweat slid down his neck and soaked into the fabric of his training suit, but his expression did not change. His eyes stayed steady, fixed on the target before him.
Around him, the others barked boasts between movements.
"I will be the first Titan off the ramp!"
"My fist will break their walls before yours leaves the ground!"
"When the officers speak of this battle, they will remember my name!"
Laughter erupted, loud and sharp, and it carried through the yard like a challenge to the skies above. The men struck harder, faster, each one eager to prove himself worthy of the Empire's songs.
Kael did not join them. His fists rose and fell in silence, the rhythm unbroken. Every strike sank deeper into the pillar until cracks began to spread along its surface. He exhaled slowly, the sound lost beneath the roars of his comrades.
The officer at the front of the yard watched without a word. His armor glowed faintly in the pale light, each line etched with runes of authority. He was Dominion Class, his presence a weight that pressed over the field even as he stood still. No soldier dared look away for long.
At last, he raised his hand, and the yard fell silent. Even the air seemed to pause.
"You know why you are called Titans," the officer said. His voice carried easily, reaching every corner of the field. "Not because you are many, but because you are few. Few, and heavy. A Titan's step cracks stone. A Titan's fist breaks worlds. You are the weight the Empire places upon its enemies. You are the edge of conquest."
The soldiers struck their chests with their fists in unison, the sound like thunder rolling through the yard. Some shouted, others roared with pride, their voices swelling as if to shake the stars themselves.
Kael raised his fist to his chest with them, but his voice never left his throat. The sound of others filled the air, drowning him out. His eyes dropped to the ground. For a moment, he remembered his first mission, the silence after the flames, the streets where laughter would never return.
The officer's gaze swept across them like a blade. "The Empire has broken through the barrier. A world of mages lies beyond. Their Elder has not returned in a century. Their strength is unproven. Their fate is certain."
The yard shook with fresh roars.
"You will cross first," the officer continued, his voice steady. "You will be the storm that breaks their defenses. You will remind them what it means to stand against the Empire."
The men shouted louder. Some raised their arms, others slammed fists into pillars until wood splintered and fell apart. Pride and hunger burned in their eyes, flames fed by the certainty of victory.
Kael lifted his eyes again, but the fire was not there. His chest tightened with a weight that pride could not carry. The silence of that past world lingered still, heavier than the officer's words.
The officer lowered his hand. "Prepare for deployment."
The yard erupted into motion, boots striking the ground as the Titans fell into formation. The noise of their pride carried with them, but Kael's steps were quiet, his thoughts louder than any chant.
The march to the hangars was long, but the Titans filled the corridors with their noise. Voices bounced off the metal walls, boasting of kills yet to come, wagers over who would strike first, arguments about which magician would beg for mercy before being broken. Some sang old war chants, the kind that had followed the Empire for centuries, verses of conquest and dominion.
Kael walked among them in silence. His eyes traced the seams of the floor where steel met steel, the faint lines of welds older than he was. His steps were steady, measured, never straying from formation. The others pushed and jostled each other, laughing and swearing. None of it touched him.
The hangar opened wide ahead of them, the air thick with the scent of fuel and hot iron. Massive ships waited in neat rows, their hulls gleaming beneath the pale lights. Engines pulsed with a low thrum, alive and impatient. Crew members moved briskly between them, adjusting plates, securing cargo, double-checking seals. Every movement was practiced, precise.
Kael's gaze rose to the ship assigned to their unit. Its body was dark, shaped like a blade, built for speed and impact. The sight drew fresh cheers from the soldiers.
"Look at her! She will cut through anything!"
"Even their skies will split before us!"
The officer stood at the base of the ramp, his hands clasped behind his back. His presence alone silenced the chatter. His eyes swept over them once more, sharp as a blade.
"You are not many," he said again. "But you are enough."
The words echoed, simple but heavy. The soldiers struck their chests once more and roared their pride.
Kael lifted his fist in time with them, his voice silent as before. His thoughts pulled elsewhere, to the silence that always followed fire, to the faces he never forgot.
The ramp hissed as it lowered, the interior of the ship glowing faintly with red light. One by one, the Titans filed inside. Boots struck the metal floor, the sound steady as a drumbeat. The restraints lined the walls, heavy and unyielding, waiting to hold them through the void.
Kael took his place among them. The restraint locked across his chest with a sharp click, pressing him back against the seat. He let his hands rest on his thighs, his gloves worn smooth at the edges. The hum of the engines grew louder, pulsing through the walls, through his bones.
Around him, the chatter resumed. Bets over first kills, boasts of broken walls, laughter echoing as if the battle were already won. The sound filled the cabin, pressing against Kael's ears.
He closed his eyes for a moment. The hum of the ship drowned the voices, heavy and constant. Beneath it all, doubt pressed harder than the restraint against his chest.
The officer stood at the front, silent, watching. His presence alone was enough.
The ship rumbled. The engines roared. The floor trembled as the vessel rose from the hangar and carried them into the void.
Kael's eyes opened again, fixed on the strip of metal between his boots. He exhaled slowly, steady but heavy.
The Empire was moving forward. And so was he.