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CHAPTER 3 — THE NIGHT OF HAVOC
The teens sprinted across the glowing Shatterfields, Astrin unconscious in Sen's arms. The deeper they fled into the dunes, the louder the storm became—wind whipping metal shards into spirals, sand stinging their skin.
Kario risked a glance back.
The crashed ship flickered once…
twice…
then vanished completely.
Not exploded.
Not dragged away.
Gone.
Kario's breath caught in his throat.
Auto-cloaking… still active. Even in that condition? That's advanced tech. ROPS-level tech…
No time to question it.
They ran until their lungs burned and their legs trembled.
The dunes swallowed them in darkness.
Behind them, distant engines boomed overhead.
The PWSP had arrived.
 No Man's Land
Their shelter—an old cargo container wedged between two scrap heaps—came into view just as the storm's edge reached them.
Sen carried Astrin inside.
Vexa slammed the door shut.
Juno threw dust-covered blankets over the windows.
None of them spoke as they collapsed to the floor, breathing hard.
Kario peeked through a crack in the metal wall.
PWSP ships—sleek, cold, and merciless—swept across the horizon, engines humming with authority.
Searchlights tore through the dunes farther away.
Laser pulses cut through scrap towers.
Mechanical hounds were released, sniffing the dunes.
But they didn't come near the deeper zone where the teens lived.
No one did.
This was No Man's Land—a region even the PWSP considered too worthless and unstable to care about.
For once, being forgotten by the galaxy saved them.
Havoc in the Night
All night they listened.
The roar of engines.
Metal collapsing.
Explosions in the distance.
Screams from Rustbreak Outpost.
PWSP searched everywhere—every settlement, every canyon, every scrapyard.
They questioned scavengers.
Tore apart shacks.
Confiscated weapons and tech.
Left smoke and chaos behind.
But by dawn…
They had found nothing.
And they finally pulled out.
Silence slowly returned to the dunes.
 THE REBEL AWAKENS
Morning sunlight pushed weakly through the dust clouds.
Inside the shelter, Astrin Vale slept on a patched cot, armor still cracked, bandages wrapped around his ribs. His collapsed Galaxyblade spear leaned in the corner like a wounded beast.
Sen was checking Astrin's breathing when—
SWISH—
The spear flashed to life.
A cosmic blade of swirling black-silver energy extended so fast it nearly took Sen's head clean off.
Sen froze.
The edge hovered a hair from his throat.
Astrin stood now, eyes sharp, stance ready to kill.
"Where am I?" he demanded, voice hoarse but dangerously steady.
Vexa exploded before anyone else could speak.
"SERIOUSLY? That's how you thank the people who dragged you out of a crash? By beheading us?!"
Astrin's eyes flicked to her—then to Juno, then Kario, then Sen.
Confusion replaced the threat.
Slowly, he lowered the spear.
"I… remember the crash. Then darkness."
He winced, grabbing his side.
"My apologies. Reflex."
"Yeah," Vexa muttered, "well your 'reflex' almost made Sen a foot shorter."
Sen smiled awkwardly. "It's okay. I have a thick neck."
 The Bag
Astrin looked around suddenly, panic flaring.
"My bag. Where is it?"
Kario stepped inside the shelter holding it—the small black satchel with PWSP markings crossed out. "I kept it safe—"
Astrin lunged.
He snatched the bag out of Kario's hands with a speed that didn't match his injuries.
"DON'T touch that!" Astrin barked. "It's dangerous!"
Juno raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous how? Like explode-y dangerous? Or curse-you dangerous?"
Sen asked calmly, "What's inside?"
Astrin hesitated.
Then exhaled.
He unlatched the bag.
Inside was a glowing, crystalline sphere—faintly pulsing like a heartbeat. Cosmic threads swam within it like galaxies being born.
Kario felt his chest tighten just looking at it.
"This," Astrin said quietly, "is a Primordial Core Fragment."
The room fell silent.
"These fragments," he continued, "awaken Primordial Arts in those who are called by them. Not everyone can use them. But for those who can…"
He looked at his own hands, almost haunted.
"The power is immense. And dangerous."
Juno swallowed. "So you stole it from the PWSP?"
Astrin's eyes hardened.
"I stole it back. It belongs to ROPS."
Then Kario asked the question everyone feared.
"…Are you really with the ROPS?"
Astrin didn't answer verbally.
He held out his hand.
The air vibrated—
metal scraps around the room lifted into the air—
the ground cracked beneath his boots—
the gravitational pull distorted the air itself.
A shimmering distortion pulsed around him.
A Primordial Art.
Graviton Force.
Kario stared in awe.
Vexa actually took a step back.
Juno whispered, "Holy—"
Sen's jaw dropped.
Astrin let the debris gently fall.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"I am a ROPS Primordial Knight."
The Plea
Astrin strapped his spear to his back and grabbed his satchel.
"I need to repair my ship. I can't stay on this planet. PWSP will return. I have to leave—immediately."
He moved toward the door.
Kario grabbed his arm before he reached it.
"Take me with you."
Astrin froze.
Kario's voice shook. "Take us with you. Please. We'll work. We'll fight. Anything. Just—get us off this planet."
Vexa stepped forward. "We're done living in scrap heaps."
Juno nodded. "We're done hiding."
Sen said softly, "We want a life."
Astrin looked at each of them.
He saw hunger.
Desperation.
Hope.
But more than that—
He sensed something powerful.
Something familiar.
"You don't know what you're asking," he said quietly.
"The galaxy is cruel beyond what you imagine. ROPS is hunted. The PWSP crushes anything they can't control. Pirates roam freely. And your lives will never be safe again."
Kario's eyes didn't waver.
"They were never safe here."
Silence fell.
Astrin looked down at the bag holding the Core Fragment.
Then at Kario.
Then at the others.
The decision weighed on him like a star collapsing.
Finally—
"…All right," Astrin said softly.
"Help me repair my ship."
The teens stared.
He gave a faint smile.
"And when it's done…
I'll take you with me."
Their journey among the stars had begun.