Hyades City, Exterior Ward
Spring Court, Hidden World
Terra, Tellus Solar system
Milky Way Galaxy,
Neutral Free Zone
March 30th 2019
Seeing the tears streak down Sam's beautiful face sent a flicker of anger through Leon—anger at himself. He despised the thought that he had caused her pain. And yet, beneath that self-directed frustration, another emotion burned—a quiet fury toward Nabu for daring to harm her in his presence.
Weakly, he lifted a trembling hand, brushing away her tears with the edge of his fingers. He tried not to let his pain show, to suppress the weakness threatening to consume him. He had to be strong. Strong for her. Strong for himself.
"I don't like seeing you cry," Leon murmured.
"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.
"Don't." His voice was firm, though strained. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
A sudden fit of coughing wracked his body, stealing his breath.
"Leon…" Sam's voice tightened with worry as she quickly grabbed a cup from the bedside table, bringing it to his lips. "Here, drink."
He took a sip, steadying himself before letting out a slow breath.
"I'm fine," he said, though he knew she didn't believe him. He could see it in her eyes—the worry, the unspoken questions swirling behind them.
"You're probably wondering how the hell a Mystic like me ends up like this," he added with a weak chuckle.
Sam hesitated before nodding. "I don't understand… Emily told me you've been sick—sick for as long as she's known you. And Sophia… she said you're dying." Her voice cracked slightly. "But neither of them would tell me what kind of sickness could kill an Ascendant. I thought… I thought we were immune to things like this."
Leon exhaled, his gaze distant. "Ascendants are immune to mortal sickness," he admitted. "At least… the natural ones."
"Natural ones… Are there artificial illnesses out there?" Sam asked, her brow furrowing.
"Yes." Leon's voice was edged with bitterness. "Foolish people playing god, experimenting with things they were never meant to touch." He exhaled sharply. "In the past, advancements in genetic engineering led to the creation of artificial illnesses—diseases capable of infecting even Ascendants. It became such a danger that the Federation was forced to ban all forms of genetic research within its territory."
Sam swallowed hard. "And you… you have one of these illnesses?"
Leon met her gaze, knowing he could no longer keep the truth from her.
"Do you know what age most Pleiadians awaken?" he asked.
"Eleven," Sam answered without hesitation.
Leon nodded. "For the lucky ones born into a Named family, their Gratia is granted to them by their household god at the age of ten. Those without a Named lineage undergo the Awakening Ceremony at the temples when they turn eleven, where they must prove themselves to the gods." He paused, a flicker of old memories crossing his face. "But I was neither."
Sam frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Leon's fingers curled slightly against the sheets. "When I was nine—three years after my father's death—I awakened."
Sam's eyes widened. "Nine? That's—"
"Unnatural?" Leon finished for her with a wry smirk. "People assume that the House of Leo has no household god, that we are simply beholden to the Sun, the source of our Gratia. But for me… it was different. I was never bound to it. My awakening didn't happen under the sun's radiance or even beneath the moonlight." His expression darkened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "It happened at midnight. Under a sky devoid of both sun and moon. And yet… I still awakened."
He let the weight of his words settle between them before finally adding, "I did so… on my own."
Sam froze.
Wasn't this exactly what Sophia had told her? That she had awakened on her own, without any external trigger? Her gaze dropped to the Ankh seal etched into her skin—the mark that labeled her as an Asha'Yee. Sophia had explained that Asha'Yee were individuals who awakened through internal harmony, but Sam still didn't fully understand what that meant. She had been unconscious during the entire process.
And now, she was hearing that Leon had done the same… but at the age of nine.
Her fingers instinctively brushed against the mark, her thoughts racing. Could it be more than a coincidence?
Before she could voice her thoughts, Leon let out a bitter chuckle. "Of course, what should have been a miraculous event turned out to be the beginning of my nightmare."
Sam snapped out of her daze, her attention fully back on him. "What happened?"
Leon exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Turns out I was infected with a nano-parasitic virus—one that doesn't just attack the body but operates on a metaphysical level."
"You were infected?" Sam repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone did this to you?"
She could hardly believe it. The thought of Leon—just a child—being deliberately targeted made her stomach twist. What kind of monster would do something like that?
Leon exhaled, his gaze distant. "My Vital forcefield… the virus devours it, tearing it apart piece by piece. Because of it, my lifespan is constantly shrinking." His voice was eerily steady, but Sam could hear the bitterness beneath it. "I should have died upon awakening. By all logic, I shouldn't even be here right now. But… for some reason, I survived."
Sam's grip tightened on the sheets. "That's not survival, Leon. That's suffering."
He offered her a small, humorless smile. "I suppose it is."
He leaned back against the pillows, eyes flickering with old memories. "My mother took me to every doctor, every healer she could find—across the Divine Federation, the Neutral Free Zone, everywhere. But no one could restore my vitality. No one could save me. The only advice I was given?" He let out a sharp exhale. "Abandon the path of an Ascendant."
Leon's expression darkened as he spoke, his face shifting through emotions—frustration, defiance, something else Sam couldn't quite name. "But I refused. If my life was already limited, then I was going to spend it chasing what mattered to me. I wanted to be a Paladin. That was my choice." His voice steadied, firm with conviction. "So I enrolled in the Academy, trained harder than anyone else, and pushed my body to the edge to gain the strength I needed to achieve my goal."
Sam frowned. "Your goal…" She hesitated. "Leon, I know you've been after the Fallen Stars for a long time. I always assumed it was about your father's death. But… we know now that the Fallen One had nothing to do with that. And you knew that too, didn't you?"
Leon fell silent.
Sam watched him closely. He looked… conflicted like he was debating whether to say more. Then, finally, he spoke.
"You know my family is one of the Named families among the Pleiadians in the Federation, right?"
Sam nodded.
Leon exhaled slowly. "The truth is… before the Uprising, my family wasn't respected like the others. We were looked down on."
Sam blinked. "What? But—why?"
Leon's jaw tightened. "It started with my grandfather, Theodore Haravok. After my grandmother died, he abandoned everything—his oath, his duty, his family. He just… left. A Paladin who turns his back on his duty is branded an Oathbreaker. That disgrace followed our name like a curse."
Sam stayed silent, letting him continue.
"Then my father married a human." His lips pressed into a thin line. "A weak race, from a weak, lower-tier world. That was another mark against us. It didn't matter that my father was an exceptional Paladin—the shame of his lineage was still there. People whispered behind our backs and looked down on us. Even when he became an Admiral, it wasn't enough."
Leon's fingers curled into fists, his voice growing heavier. "Then came the Uprising. My father was the only Admiral left standing. He took command of Starlight, led the charge, fought the terrorist leader, and stopped the Fallen Star before things spiraled out of control. His heroism spread through the Federation like wildfire. He became the 'Great Hero.'"
He let out a dry laugh. "And just like that, the whispers changed. The same people who once scorned us now envied us. My mother, the widow of a war hero. Me, the son of a legend."
Sam's chest ached at the weight behind his words. "Leon…"
He shook his head, his expression unreadable. "But you want to know why I sought out the Fallen Star?" He let out a slow breath, looking at her with something unreadable in his eyes. "Because my father's death wasn't the end of the story. And I needed to know the truth."
"It turns out my sickness wasn't just some cruel twist of fate," Leon said, his voice quiet yet laced with bitterness. "It was deliberate—engineered by people within the Federation who wanted to see my family erased."
Sam's breath caught in her throat. "Erased?"
Leon nodded. "They intended for me to be the last of the Haravok bloodline. To wipe us out, once and for all." His jaw tightened. "My mother knew. She tried to protect me from the truth, to shield me from it. But in the end, I discovered it on my own."
Sam could only imagine how that revelation must have shattered him.
Leon's heritage wasn't just tied to the Federation—his mother came from a long line of witches, seers who wielded clairvoyance. His own Hyperion Eye ability was an expression of that legacy. He rarely used his clairvoyance, not just because of the strain it placed on his already fragile health, but because he knew that knowledge always came at a cost. Yet, despite the risks, he had used it. And what he saw led him to the truth.
"I don't know what role the Fallen Stars played in my father's death," Leon admitted. "But I do know that they were the ones he fought against. I couldn't go after the real enemies—the ones within the Federation. Not without putting my mother in danger." His fingers curled into fists. "But the Fallen Stars… they were within my reach. If they knew something, I could use them. I could use them to uncover the truth."
As Leon spoke, Sam listened carefully, feeling the weight of his past pressing down on him. He was reaching the part of his story that troubled him most—she could feel it. The tension in his voice. The unspoken pain in his words.
And then he said it.
"I spent most of my time as a Paladin chasing down clues about the Fallen Stars," Leon continued. "I became obsessed. To the point where my progress as a Paladin stagnated. If I'm being honest, I never cared much for the title, for the duty. Protecting, guarding, and saving lives—it was never my priority. Being a Paladin was just a means to an end. A tool I needed to reach my goal."
Sam's chest tightened. That wasn't the Leon she knew.
He hesitated for a brief moment before exhaling sharply. "It took years before I even found a clue that would lead me to them. And that's when everything changed."
Sam's heart pounded. "What happened, Leon?"
Leon's gaze darkened, his mind drifting to the past. "My exile."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Sam had always sensed there was something more to his banishment than what he had told her before. Every time it was mentioned, she had felt a tinge of pain from him—something tangled with guilt and shame. And now, she could feel it more than ever.
"Leon..." Sam whispered, sensing his hesitation.
He looked at her then, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He didn't know if he could tell her. If he should. He didn't want to see the look of horror on her face. Didn't want her to see him as a monster. Didn't want her to think of him the same way she thought of those responsible for her suffering. But deep down, he knew—he had to tell her the truth.
"A year ago, in Lamentias, I found a clue." His voice was low, strained. "But I had to do something to get it. Something I regret..."
Sam waited, watching him closely. Leon's hands clenched as his mind flashed back to that fateful moment—the event that led to his exile, his forced departure from the Federation… and ultimately, his time on Terra. The moment that led him to her.
****
Lamentias
Lamentite Star system
Divine Federation
Colony Planetary Region
Y-1908
Planet Lamentias was going through the wringer. That much was clear as a lone figure emerged from a half-constructed building, wiping blood from his palms with a handkerchief. The blood belonged to the bodies left behind—small-time gangsters who had made the mistake of thinking they could trap him. They had dangled information about the Fallen Star as bait, hoping to ensnare him, but the plan had backfired spectacularly.
The fight had been dull, uninspiring, a tedious encounter with pests unworthy of his full attention. He had granted them swift, merciful deaths—except for their leader. With him, he had taken his time, peeling the skin from his body and watching as the life slowly drained from his eyes.
Before leaving, he made an anonymous call to the GDP, the local law enforcement agency, reporting the massacre of a local gang. Then, without a second thought, he turned away, seeking out a bar to wash away the lingering taste of boredom.
As he walked through the streets, the signs of unrest were everywhere. A group of protesters gathered outside a government building, holding up holographic images, their voices rising in anger. Lamentias had become the loudest voice among the many planets protesting against the Federation. The fallout of the recent uprising had left many dissatisfied with the Federation's rule, and accusations of apartheid governance had only fueled the dissent.
Lamentias was home to an Od-sensitive species, yet the Grey—so common in Terra—was absent here. Pleiadians were rare among the planet's native population, which was largely composed of humans and other members of the nine races. The planet had only secured its place in the Federation because of its rich deposits of Gallium crystals, a vital resource for the Federation's pocket. It hadn't taken long for the Pleiadians to establish themselves in positions of power, gradually becoming the dominant race while the native inhabitants were pushed into the margins of their own world.
A sudden movement caught his eye—a protester broke from the crowd, hurling a gas bomb toward the government building. A GDP officer in tactical armor reacted instantly, blasting the device out of the air with a mana-blaster before subduing the protester with a mana collar. The officer moved with the cold efficiency of someone who had done this many times before.
The onlooker barely spared them another glance. The unrest was not his concern. He stepped into Greyhorn Club, one of many establishments that had expanded from Terra to planets across the Federation and neutral zones. It had the same familiar atmosphere as its counterpart on Terra—he would know, being a regular patron.
Tonight, however, business was slow. The tensions outside had thinned the usual crowd. He made his way to the bar, where an old man with a graying beard and a scruffy brown leather jacket tended to the counter. The air smelled of aged liquor and desperation, a fitting backdrop for the night ahead.
"What can I get you?" the bartender grunted.
"Limeworm," Leon replied, barely paying attention. As he waited, he pulled out his Zodiak, scrolling through the missed transmissions from Emily. She had tried to contact him multiple times. No doubt she was furious that he had slipped away from their command post in the Vega star system. He had taken a transport ship and made his way to Lamentias without a word. There hadn't been time for explanations—not when the trail he was following was growing colder by the second.
The bartender returned with his drink and left him to it. He was halfway through the glass when a familiar presence entered the bar. Leon looked up, mildly surprised to see Lance Al'Roth stepping into the dimly lit establishment. The man was hard to miss, dressed in a silver-gray suit, his presence radiating a subtle hint of power. Lance had plenty of clubs scattered across the Neutral free zone—so why did he choose this place of all places to meet?
"Leon, always a pleasure," Lance greeted smoothly, a charismatic smile playing on his lips. "I heard you were in town and thought I'd drop by."
"Do you have what I need?" Leon asked, cutting straight to the point.
Lance clicked his tongue. "Tch, always so impatient," he said with feigned disappointment, sliding onto the seat beside him and signaling for a drink.
Leon's fingers tightened around his glass. "If you don't have anything, then why waste my time?"
Lance chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Beating up a couple of street rats won't get you any closer to the Fallen," he whispered, his voice carrying just enough amusement to be irritating. "But this might."
With practiced ease, he slipped a small data disk into Leon's pocket, the movement so casual it was as if they were old friends sharing a joke. Leon had the sudden urge to break his nose but restrained himself.
"Why you're so desperate to find them, though," Lance mused, swirling his drink, "now that is a mystery."
Leon said nothing. Instead, he drained the last of his glass and rose from his seat, already prepared to leave.
"It's on him," Leon said to the barkeep before turning away, leaving Lance Al'Roth and the bar behind. As he stepped into the night, he pulled the disk from his pocket, rolling it between his fingers. His Zodiak could scan and extract data from it instantly, so he wasted no time. The moment the information was uploaded, he snapped the disk in half and burned the remains, ensuring no traces were left behind.
The data pointed him toward a weaponsmith in Louver Village. Located far beyond the city and well away from the ongoing protests, the village was a small settlement northwest of Camaris. Camaris itself was one of Lamentias' primary mining cities, home to one of the largest reserves of Seriphium ore. The Federation-backed corporations had made the city a hub for laborers, attracting immigrants seeking easy work in the mines. It was no secret that the corporations preferred hiring outsiders over the local population—it was cheaper, and there was less resistance. That exploitation was one of the driving forces behind the planet's unrest.
Leon's gaze drifted to the horizon. Thick plumes of smoke curled into the night sky. The protests were intensifying. He exhaled through his nose, deciding it was best to leave before the city descended further into chaos. Fortunately, Louver Village seemed untouched by the turmoil. According to the data, the village was home to merchants and vendors rather than activists or corporate interests.
He boarded an air shuttle, reclining in his seat as it carried him toward his destination. By the time he arrived, the sun had set, and the three moons of Lamentias bathed the landscape in a neon glow. Despite the distant sight of rising smoke, the village itself was eerily silent. The streets were empty—no pedestrians, no groundships ferrying goods or people. The stillness put him on edge.
Leon made his way to the weaponsmith's shop. The owner was already closing up, his hands busy packing away his wares. He was clad in a traditional kimono robe, his long black hair tied in a topknot. Strapped to his back was an array of swords—katanas, broadswords, and other finely crafted blades. Leon noted the weight of the weapons and the ease with which the man carried them. He was strong.
"Are you Ryushima?" Leon asked.
The man's response was immediate—a blade cutting through the air toward him. Leon's instincts kicked in, his body moving before his mind could fully register the attack. He dodged by mere inches.
Ryushima came in again, his katana flashing in a precise, disciplined arc. Leon instantly recognized the form—Itto-Ryu, a deadly sword style originating from the Land of Wa. He parried the strike, adjusting his stance. This was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
Leon had trained extensively in various sword arts, even those from isolationist planets like Wa. The Land of Wa was a world deep in the Charlie Quadrant, an independent power that had long resisted Federation influence. The two had a fragile pact—one that neither dared to break, as a conflict with Wa would be a declaration of war. And Wa was a force the Federation did not want to provoke.
Ryushima finally discarded the basket of swords from his back, focusing entirely on his katana. Leon could feel the man's Odic force, his internal senses flowing through the man and his blade, a testament to his skill.
Leon smirked, drawing both of his Seriphium blades—the same ones he had used to cut down the gang members earlier. Perhaps this man would finally offer him a worthy challenge. His bloodlust wasn't sated yet.
He struck first, a reckless move considering he did not know his opponent's full abilities. But to Leon, it didn't matter. He was the best. And this man wasn't going to outshine him.
His blade aimed for Ryushima's throat, but the swordsman moved, narrowly evading the strike. Recovering quickly, Ryushima countered with a downward slash, his katana slicing through the air with deadly precision. Leon met the attack head-on, deflecting it with practiced ease.
Their fight became a dance—thrusts, parries, slashes—each of them testing the other's skill with relentless exchanges. Leon's grin widened as the battle stretched on. Ryushima was good. No, more than that—he was exceptional.
The only swordsman Leon had ever faced who could rival him was Rex. But Ryushima's skill was something else entirely. If they were to incorporate Reinforcement techniques, Leon knew he would crush the man in an instant. He was just that superior.
Yet, for twenty exhilarating minutes, they fought as equals. When they finally stopped, both were breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat.
Ryushima sat near his basket of swords, exhaling sharply. "He told me you were good, but I didn't expect you to be this good," he admitted. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "I don't know how this fight would have ended if you had used your full power."
"I would have killed you," Leon said simply. Ryushima let out a short grunt, but he didn't argue. It was the truth. Leon was the best for a reason.
"So," Leon continued, sheathing his weapons, "are you Ryu?"
"Yes," Ryushima confirmed. "I am Ryushima of the Clan of Kageyami." He bowed slightly, a sign of respect. "Your skill is worthy of admiration."
Leon said nothing.
"Can I bother you with an invitation for tea?" Ryushima asked.
Leon hesitated for a brief moment but shrugged it off. He had no reason to refuse. "Fine."
Ryushima led him through the quieter part of town, where a few shops were still open, though nearly deserted. They stopped at a small teahouse with an outdoor patio, the warm glow of lanterns flickering in the evening air.
As they sat down, the shopkeeper—a short, wiry man with a large nose and brown hair—rushed over. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt and matching pants, though sweat stains were visible beneath his arms.
"What can I get for you, gentlemen?" the shopkeeper asked, his voice chipper. "Perhaps our special of the day—"
"Just two cups of jasmine tea," Ryushima interrupted. The shopkeeper nodded and hurried away.
Leon studied the man sitting across from him. Ryushima looked young, but his skill with the blade spoke of extensive battle experience. A scar ran across one of his eyes, the pupil cloudy and white—a sign of blindness. He had fought with a handicap, yet he had nearly matched Leon in swordsmanship alone.
Impressive.
Leon could feel the distinct presence of Odic force from him, confirming what he already suspected—Ryushima was a Pleiadian. But he wasn't like the Pleiadians of the Federation.
In the Land of Wa, Pleiadians like Ryushima were known as Tenshukyo, descendants of a group of Celestial beings. Unlike the Lumasis faction of Celestial which the Federation's Pleiadians traced their lineage from, the Tenshukyo followed an entirely different path.
Leon leaned back slightly, waiting for the tea to arrive, but his mind was already considering the possibilities. This meeting had proven far more interesting than he had anticipated.
"What's a samurai doing all the way out in Lamentias?" Leon asked, watching the man carefully.
"I was a samurai in my old life," Ryu corrected. "Now, I'm just a weaponsmith. Though not for long." He patted the baskets of weapons beside him as if to emphasize his point.
Leon's eyes flickered toward the weapons. He had always been intrigued by Nihonian craftsmanship, especially their katanas. He had wanted one for a while.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before the shop owner returned, balancing a tray of tea. He moved carefully, setting it down between them with practiced precision. First, he handed Ryu a cup, then turned to Leon, offering a steaming ceramic cup filled with fragrant liquid.
Leon took a sip. The taste was bland, not even worth describing. He had never been a tea lover, and this only reinforced why. It did nothing to indulge his pleasures. For a fleeting moment, he considered spitting the tea out of his mouth, but Leon resisted the urge. Ryu had invited him to a drink. The least he could do was tolerate the experience. Begrudgingly, he continued sipping the disappointing drink.
"You're packing up your shop," Leon noted as the shopkeeper scurried away.
"Business is no longer profitable," Ryu replied, his gaze shifting toward the smoke rising in the distance. He sipped his tea, looking entirely at ease as if the chaos in the city was nothing but a distant storm.
"So you're leaving," Leon surmised. "I had information that you could lead me to the Fallen Star. Is that true?"
Ryu studied him for a moment, his dark eyes scanning Leon from head to toe. Then, he nodded and returned to his tea.
"As a weaponsmith, I've forged weapons for various organizations throughout the Federation," Ryu said. "It's not uncommon for certain… information to find its way to me."
"And this information has to do with the Fallen Stars?" Leon pressed.
Ryu nodded again, taking another unhurried sip.
"There will be a transport vessel in two weeks," Ryu said. "It's carrying an important object."
"An object? "Leon echoed. "I assume it has information about the Fallen stars, you mean."
"Hai," Ryu confirmed.
Leon's gaze narrowed. "What's the catch?"
He didn't trust Ryu—not completely. The man seemed decent enough, but Lance Al'Roth had introduced them, and that alone made Leon wary. That Beastman was a shady bastard, always dealing in half-truths and personal gain. The last time he had introduced Leon to someone, it had been that useless witch back on Terra. He wasn't keen on another disappointment.
"I take it trust doesn't come easy to you," Ryu observed, his tone amused.
Leon ignored the remark. "Why give me this information? What's in it for you?"
Ryu placed his empty cup down. "I also seek something from the vessel," he admitted. "But for me to get to it, I need a crew that can help me. Lance was the one who suggested you. He said he knew someone stupid enough to risk their life. We can help each other get what we seek"
Leon considered his words. He could be lying. It could be a setup. But then again, it could also be the break he'd been waiting for. He had to be careful. And yet, his mind was already racing ahead. He had finally found a lead—a real one. The path to the Fallen Stars was right in front of him. His goal, the desire that had burned in him for so long, was finally within reach. There was no choice. He had to take it. But he couldn't do this alone. He needed Emily.
"So," Ryu said, setting his cup aside. "Do we have a deal?" Leon exhaled sharply, then downed the rest of his tea in one go, barely flinching at the heat.
"Fine. We do," he said. Ryu gave a satisfied nod. Then, after a brief pause, he awkwardly cleared his throat.
"So… uh… can you pay for the tea?"
Leon froze the cup halfway to the table. "Huh?"
Ryu offered a sheepish chuckle. "Business has been slow, so… I'm kind of broke."
Leon's eye twitched. "You invited me for tea. You should be paying."
"Yeah, well," Ryu said, rubbing the back of his head, "the way my finances are set up—"
"Why, you fucking—" Leon growled, yanking credits from his pocket and slamming them on the table.
He couldn't believe he was paying for terrible tea.
****
After paying for the tea—much to his irritation—Leon left Ryu behind and returned to base. Predictably, Emily was furious. She didn't raise her voice at first. That would've been easier. Instead, she stood there, arms folded, staring at him in silence as he explained what had happened. That silence carried more weight than any outburst.
Then came the lecture.
Reckless. Impulsive. Short-sighted. Suicidal.
Leon let her talk.
He didn't interrupt. Didn't defend himself. Didn't argue. He simply stood there, absorbing every word as if it didn't matter—though something in her tone lingered longer than he cared to admit.
When she finally finished, she exhaled sharply, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"…and next time," she added, voice quieter, "you don't disappear without telling me."
Leon shrugged lightly. "Noted."
It wasn't an apology. But it was enough. Despite everything, she agreed to come. One week later, the two of them stood aboard a starship alongside Ryu, preparing for their mission.
The stars stretched endlessly before them as their stolen ship drifted along the Fuyuki Star Road, an interstellar artery threading through the outer boundaries of Federation jurisdiction.
Leon stood in the cockpit beside Ryu, watching the sensor array. Emily remained seated at the control station, fingers gliding across holographic panels, calibrating their systems with quiet precision.
The ship itself—a Swift Seizer-class pursuit vessel—hummed with restrained power. Built for speed and interception, it was perfect for what they needed.
Illegal.
Efficient.
Disposable.
Exactly Leon's preference.
"Let's go over it again," Ryu said, adjusting the gauntlet on his arm.
He wore black Wa combat armor, the plates layered and minimalist, designed for mobility rather than brute defense. There was something deliberate about the way he carried himself—like every movement had already been decided before it happened.
"You and I infiltrate," Ryu continued. "Lady Legens blocks the vessel and occupies the captain through comms. While their attention is diverted, we deploy the Exodus and breach from within."
Emily didn't look at him. "And the object?"
Ryu's gaze shifted—briefly.
"There is something aboard that ship," he said, "something my clan has searched for… for a very long time."
"Vague," Emily replied flatly.
"It's meant to be."
Leon didn't care about Ryu's motives.
Not really. All that mattered was this: The object had ties to the Fallen Stars. That was enough. A sharp tone cut through the cockpit. The sensor array lit up.
"Target acquired," Emily said. "Vector confirmed. Distance closing."
The ship appeared moments later—massive, cylindrical, painted deep crimson.
HINOKAMI.
A Wa transport vessel.
Armed.
Shielded.
Dangerous.
Leon's lips curled faintly.
"Perfect."
Emily moved first.
Their ship drifted forward, blocking the transport's path.
A comm-link opened.
She leaned back slightly, her expression shifting—subtle, calculated.
"Unidentified transport," she said smoothly, voice carrying just enough edge. "You're entering restricted space. Power down and submit to inspection."
A lie.
A good one.
"Now," Ryu said.
Leon didn't hesitate. The pod detached silently from the hull, slipping into the void like a shadow. Camouflage engaged. No signatures. No presence. Just absence. Leon piloted, eyes locked on the trajectory as the transport filled the viewport.
"Range?" he asked.
"Five seconds," Ryu replied.
The Exodus device activated. A low hum filled the pod. Then—A pulse of blue light swallowed them whole. They materialized in the cargo bay. Leon stepped out first, boots hitting cold metal.
The air felt… dense.
Wrong.
He didn't comment on it.
Yet.
The cargo bay stretched endlessly, stacked with reinforced containers—some sealed, others transparent. One caught his attention immediately. Inside—
A creature coiled in unnatural stillness. Eight heads. Eight tails. Each eye was barely open. Watching.
"Orochi," Ryu said quietly.
Leon barely spared it a glance.
"Not what we're here for."
They moved. Fast. Silent. Precise. Ryu deployed a small mechanical insect—its metallic body unfolding as it crawled into a security panel. A soft click. The door opened.
Leon bent the light around them.
Invisible.
Gone.
The Descent
The deeper they went, the worse it felt.
Leon noticed it first.
The Odyllic flow.
It wasn't absent.
It was being… suppressed.
No.
That wasn't right.
It was being contained.
Two Samurai guards stood at the next junction.
They didn't react.
Didn't sense them.
Didn't breathe differently.
Leon moved.
One strike.
Clean.
Silent.
Ryu followed.
Efficient.
No wasted motion.
"Too easy," Leon muttered.
Ryu didn't respond.
Another door.
Another breach.
Then—
They found it.
The Helios Casket
The chamber was small.
Sterile.
Cold.
At its center—
A massive containment unit.
Black metal. Gold-lined seams.
Runic inscriptions etched across its surface, pulsing faintly with suppressed light.
And at its core—
A glass chamber filled with suspended starlight.
Leon stepped closer.
His breath slowed.
His chest tightened.
Something inside him reacted.
Violently.
"What… is this?" he asked.
Ryu didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he placed his hand on the console.
The locks disengaged.
One by one.
The chamber opened.
And inside—
There was no "object."
No weapon.
No fragment.
There was a being.
A man.
Or something wearing the shape of one.
Silver hair drifted weightlessly in the fluid light surrounding him.
His skin shimmered faintly, as if it wasn't entirely physical.
And his chest—
Marked with a faint, radiant sigil.
A star… broken into layered rings.
Leon froze.
He couldn't feel him.
Not properly.
It was like staring into something beyond his senses.
"…a Celestial," Ryu said softly.
Leon's mind went still. That word carried weight. Too much weight. Restriction spikes pinned the figure in place—driven through limbs, torso, spine. Suppressing. Containing. Imprisoning. Then—
The Celestial's eyes opened. Gold. Burning. Ancient. Leon staggered slightly as something brushed against his mind. Not an attack. Not quite.
An image appeared in his mind, an image of a blue planet, a place he had not thought of for so long. The image echoed inside him, the last place he would have ever thought of.
Terra.
Leon's breath caught.
"What just happened—"
Ryu moved. He closed the casket, making the images that Leon was seeing vanish from his mind.
"Leon," Ryu said quietly.
Leon turned.
Ryu was no longer tense. No longer cautious. No longer playing the part.
"You've found your answer."
Leon's expression darkened.
"What was that?" Leon said. He didn't understand what was happening, why Ryu was after that thing within the casket, or how it connected to Terra and the Fallen stars.
Ryu met his gaze.
"The Fallen Stars that you seek…" Ryu began. "You already know the truth, don't you. They are not what the Federation has made them out to be. That's why you seek them. To learn the truth about your father and why he died."
Leon's chest tightened.
"We had a deal, Ryu," Leon said.
"You…" Ryu continued, voice lowering, shaking his head, "You are closer to them than you realize."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Leon's hand tightened around his blade.
"What are you saying?" Leon said.
"You have gotten your answer, already, have you not? " he said.
Leon stepped forward. Slow. Controlled. Dangerous.
"You're telling me that all this time, they've been in Terra," Leon said. "You want me to believe that..."
Ryu held his gaze.
"Sometimes the things you seek…" A pause. Deliberate."…are a lot closer than you realize."
Leon stilled. Ryu's next words landed like a blade.
"It lies on Terra."
Everything went quiet.
"…what?" Leon said.
"Your fate," Ryu continued, "Your destined one… the fate of your bloodline and the truth that you seek…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"… They are all interconnected and lie within Terra."
Leon's mind reeled. His mother's world. A "low-tier" planet. Irrelevant. Forgotten. Impossible.
"You're lying."
Ryu shook his head.
"I have given you what you seek. The rest is all up to you, Leonard Haravok..." Behind them, the alarm blared, alerting the Samurai to their presence. Leon's breath hitched. Too late. The ship erupted into chaos. Samurai flooded the corridors. Energy surged. Weapons ignited.
Leon didn't move. Not yet.
Ryu stepped back. A portal opened behind him.
"…if you want to live," he said, "go to Terra."
Then—
The Odyllic spiked.
Not gradually. Not naturally.
Violently.
Leon didn't think—his body moved before his mind could catch up. He hurled himself sideways just as an explosion ripped through the hull, metal tearing open like flesh under a blade. Vacuum screamed through the breach, dragging debris, bodies, and loose fragments into the void.
"FUCK—!"
The ship lurched. Another detonation followed, deeper this time—closer.
Leon slammed into the wall, barely catching himself as the deck pitched beneath his feet. His ears rang, his vision swimming for a fraction of a second as his thoughts snapped into place.
The pod.
That bastard planted a bomb in the pod.
Of course he did.
Sirens erupted—shrill, relentless. Red emergency lights flooded the corridors, turning everything into a blood-soaked nightmare. The transport vessel sealed itself into lockdown, bulkheads shifting, systems rerouting.
And every soldier on this ship would be heading here.
Leon's breath came out sharp, ragged.
"Fuck… fuck… fuck!"
His hands trembled—not with fear, but with fury.
"How the hell did I miss that…?"
He had walked straight into it. Every step. Every move. Planned. Played. Used. And now? Now he was trapped inside a hostile warship, on the edge of a diplomatic fracture between the Divine Federation and the Land of Wa.
If this escalated—
War.
And the Federation could not afford that. Not now. Not when everything was already unraveling beneath the surface.
(Leon—what's happening?)
Emily's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and immediate through their Odic link. Leon didn't answer right away. He could feel them. Dozens. Then more.
A rising tide of presences flooding toward him—Samurai, soldiers, awakened warriors. Their Odic signatures flared like sparks in a storm, converging on his position. The two unconscious Samurai at his feet—the ones he and Ryu had taken down—lay where they had fallen, their comms crackling with urgent calls.
Reinforcements incoming. Leon's grip tightened around his Seriphium blades.
If Wa found out. If this incident was traced back—
If word spread that a Federation Paladin had infiltrated one of their vessels…
No.
That couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it happen. Not after everything. Not when he was this close. Without hesitation, he moved. A single clean motion. Steel kissed flesh. The first throat opened before the man could wake.
The second followed just as easily. Warm blood sprayed across Leon's cheek, hot and metallic, the scent filling his lungs. His heart steadied. Not faster. Not panicked.
Steady. Resolved. There was no turning back now.
He rose. And gathered everything. Mana surged. Odic force ignited. Even his life force—fragile, eroding, unstable—was dragged into the current. Golden light bled across his skin, spilling outward like a star cracking open from within.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't hold back. He couldn't.
"I'll erase them all."
The words came out low. Certain. Final. The first wave rounded the corridor.
Blades drawn. Mana flaring. Leon vanished. For a heartbeat— Time fractured.
Then—
Light. A streak of gold tore through the corridor, too fast to follow, too sharp to comprehend. Leon reappeared within their formation, blades already mid-motion.
The first man didn't even realize he was dead. His head slid cleanly from his shoulders. Then the second. Then the third. Blood erupted in arcs of crimson, bodies collapsing before their minds could register the attack.
Leon moved again. Gone. Then back. Every step a kill. Every movement precise. Efficient. Absolute. He became something else entirely—less a man, more a phenomenon. A flash. A rupture. A line of death drawn through space itself.
Samurai fell like wheat before a scythe, their defenses meaningless, their reactions too slow. A barrier flared ahead—layered mana constructs forming a defensive wall. Leon didn't slow. Didn't adjust. Didn't care. He twisted mid-stride, his body bending with impossible fluidity, and crashed through it. The barrier shattered like glass, his blades tearing through armor, bone, and flesh in a single seamless motion.
They never stood a chance. More. He needed more. Power. Speed. Violence. His veins burned. His muscles tore under the strain, fibers ripping apart and reforming in rapid succession. His bones groaned, microfractures forming and sealing with each movement. His cells screamed under the pressure of forced acceleration.
He pushed harder. Ignored it. Welcomed it. If his body broke—
Then it broke. The corridors turned red. Not from the emergency lights. From blood. Bodies piled at his feet, twisted, severed, unrecognizable. The metallic scent thickened, clinging to the air, to his skin, to his lungs.
He barely noticed anymore. The heat of it. The weight of it. It all blurred together. Then—
A shift. Subtle. But undeniable.
Leon stopped. A new presence entered his senses. Not like the others. Heavier. Sharper. Focused. A Samurai stepped forward, boots crunching against the corpses of his fallen men.
He didn't hesitate. Didn't flinch. Didn't rage. He understood. And that made him dangerous. Their eyes met. Recognition passed between them.
The Captain moved first. Mana exploded outward in a violent surge, crimson energy spiraling around his body like a storm given form. His blade ignited, spiritual fire roaring to life as the space around it warped under the sheer density of power.
Leon's breath hitched. His own mana faltered. Just slightly. But enough. He had pushed too far. Too fast. Too recklessly.
The Captain struck.
A wave of burning crimson energy tore forward, devouring everything in its path, a maelstrom of spiritual fire meant to erase him completely.
Leon raised his blades—
Too slow.
Too late—
Space twisted.
A ripple tore open reality itself, folding the corridor inward as a pulse of violet light burst into existence.
Emily stepped through. Calm. Unshaken. Her expression unreadable. She raised her hand. And caught it.
The Captain's attack—the full force of it—collapsed into her grasp. The raging flames twisted, compressing, folding inward like something being rewritten.
Then—
Gone.
Erased.
As if it had never existed. Leon dropped to one knee, breath ragged, vision blurring at the edges. Emily didn't speak. She didn't need to. She reached down. Grabbed him. And space folded
They emerged into the void. The transport vessel loomed before them, fractured, bleeding atmosphere and fire into the endless dark. Leon barely registered it. The energy Emily had absorbed coiled around her arm, unstable, violent, alive.
She raised a single finger. And released it. The beam tore through the ship. Not like an explosion. Not like a weapon. Like judgment.
Pure. Absolute. Unavoidable. The vessel didn't break. It ceased. Light swallowed it whole. Structure. Matter. Energy. All unraveled. All gone. Silence followed. Total. Unforgiving. They reappeared inside their ship.
Leon collapsed into the seat, his body finally giving in, every nerve burning, every muscle screaming. Emily adjusted him—carefully. Almost gently.
Then she stepped back.
For a moment—
Something flickered across her face. Cold detachment. Clinical. Calculating. And beneath it—
Something softer. Something human. Something she shouldn't be feeling. Her hand twitched.
Rising—
Pain struck. Her mind fractured inward, consciousness pulled violently into something deeper. Darker. Older.
So… you're back again.
The voice wasn't hers.
Never had been.
Control yourself… or I will.
Emily said nothing. She didn't argue. Didn't resist in words. She simply forced herself forward—wrenching control back through sheer will.
Dominant. Unyielding. The strain shattered her balance. Her vision blurred. Her knees gave out— And she fell.
Leon woke to pain. Deep. Bone-deep. His body felt hollowed out, like something essential had been burned away. He forced himself upright, breath uneven.
The ship.
They were back.
He scanned the cockpit. The transport vessel—
Gone. Completely erased. No debris. No trace. No evidence it had ever existed. His gaze shifted. Emily lay motionless. Alive. Breathing. But—
Wrong.
The Odyllic around her was distorted. Unstable. Layered with something he couldn't fully grasp. Leon clenched his fists. He remembered everything. The slaughter.
Ryu.
Terra.
The word echoed in his mind like a curse. He didn't understand it yet. Didn't know what it meant. Didn't know why it mattered. But it stayed. Burned into him.
When they returned, Starlight was waiting. And this time, there would be consequences.