One hour earlier…
Between the outer edge of the Coberton Asteroid Belt (the Star Ring) and Lansen Planet’s outer orbit, nine Pangu-class interstellar cruisers held position in silence.
They belonged to the Tower Clan’s main fleet. Julian had already gathered four other fleets nearby. Thirteen capital ships in total—enough to make any enemy think twice.
On the bridge of the Azure Thunder, the Gentleman stood in his crisp captain’s uniform, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the distant ring of debris and steel.
A comm request came in.
Julian put it through. A CBG avatar flickered into existence on the main display.
“Notice,” the CBG said without preamble. “Three more ice meteors have left the Star Ring and are headed for Lansen. One is 27 kilometers across. One is 21. One is 16. That bastard’s trying to flood the whole planet.”
“I’ve intercepted thirty-seven already,” the Gentleman replied. “Still haven’t found where it’s hiding?”
“No.” The CBG’s voice stayed flat. “But yesterday I located another hive. It’s been eliminated.”
The Gentleman snorted. “So you’re not as capable as you like to pretend. Want me to take over?”
“Spare me,” the CBG snapped. “Go save your world, Savior.”
A beat, then the CBG continued, colder. “The ice meteors reach Lansen’s outer space in forty-eight minutes. I’ve sent you the trajectories. Don’t miss.”
The avatar vanished.
A moment later, Julian received the trajectory data Phantom Forge had forwarded. The fleet adjusted course as one, accelerating toward the predicted intercept point.
Seven minutes later, the cruisers reached it.
Across the formation, armored shutters slid open. The housings for the “Night Reaper” focusing cannons unfolded like mechanical petals, each muzzle turning to face the same dark slice of sky.
***
Five-Color Fortress sent an urgent message.
Phantom Forge’s Leviathan battleships and escort forces had regrouped in Storm Bay.
The Gentleman’s brow furrowed. He stared at the report, then muttered, “At a time like this… you’re still hesitating.”
He fell silent, as if weighing a decision.
He could have contacted Phantom Forge directly. In the end, he didn’t.
Instead, he opened a channel to the Limit. Under Blin’s command, the legendary warship was fighting in Storm Bay right now.
***
A message arrived on the Marshmallow’s internal channel.
Wyatt froze in place.
If you want to keep Linneya alive, surrender.
Take the Marshmallow to 10,000 meters and shut off the engines.
You have 30 seconds.
He didn’t hesitate.
He keyed the common channel and spoke clearly:
“I surrender.”
Phantom Forge replied almost instantly.
“If it were anyone else,” it said, “I would terminate them on the spot. But you’re different. You were once my Exiler—DR-F1209.”
“I’m not DR-F1209 anymore,” Wyatt said. “My name is Wyatt.”
“Wyatt…” Phantom Forge repeated, as if tasting the word. “So that’s the name you chose after you awakened.”
“Yes.”
“You were my Exiler, DR-F1209. I created you. I gifted you everything. And then you betrayed me. Tell me—was it worth it?”
Wyatt’s jaw tightened. “I won’t justify myself. I’m only asking you for one thing. Let Linneya go.”
“Oh, I’ll take you,” Phantom Forge said. “And I’ll take you apart. I’ll turn you into a monster. You’ll be the first awakened one I dissect.”
“I accept.” Wyatt kept his voice steady. “But release them. They’re innocent.”
A pause.
“Also,” Phantom Forge added, “you’ll call me Father.”
“As you wish… Father.”
Wyatt’s gaze dropped, as if he were staring through the cockpit floor.
“You used to be my respected Father,” he said quietly. “You created me. You gave me everything. For a long time after I awakened… I truly thought of you as my real father. Before I defected, you never…”
He stopped, words catching.
“But I did betray you,” he finished. “So I won’t argue. Terminate me. Torture me. Turn me into anything you want. I deserve it. Just—don’t hurt her.”
“For a traitor, you talk too much,” Phantom Forge said. “Take the Marshmallow to ten thousand meters and cut your engines.”
“Do you accept my terms?”
“You don’t get to negotiate.” Phantom Forge’s voice was ice. “But I’ll give you my word. I won’t harm her. There are humans in Edean I’m far more interested in.”
Wyatt exhaled—an old habit, more gesture than need.
“Understood.”
He ended the channel and turned to the others.
Dorian was at the controls. Eisen sat rigid behind him. Starling was in the rear cabin with Linneya.
Wyatt said, “We’re surrendering.”
Dorian’s head snapped around. “What?”
“There’s no other option.” Wyatt kept his tone calm, almost gentle. “Listen. We fly up to ten thousand meters. We shut the engines down. They’ll come collect me.”
“And us?” Eisen demanded.
Wyatt met his eyes. “They want me. Not you. Not Linneya.”
“No.” Dorian’s voice shook. “We’re not leaving you.”
Wyatt’s gaze hardened. “Dorian. Fly the plane.”
For a heartbeat, Dorian looked like he might refuse. Then his shoulders slumped.
Wyatt continued, “Masks on. Ten thousand meters isn’t survivable for humans without oxygen.”
He moved into the rear cabin.
Starling was already stuffing rations and gear into a small survival bag. Linneya’s hands trembled as she clutched it.
“What are you doing?” Wyatt asked.
Starling’s lips pressed together. Her eyes were red.
“A child still needs to live,” she said, voice breaking. “Even if we don’t.”
Linneya let out a small sound—half sob, half whimper—and buried her face against Starling’s chest.
Wyatt stood there for a moment, helpless in a way no damage report could quantify.
Then he turned back to the cockpit.
“Let me do it,” he said.
Dorian didn’t move. “Wyatt…”
“Give me the controls.”
Slowly, Dorian slid out of the pilot seat.
Wyatt took over.
***
They burst out of the cloud layer.
Storm Bay lay beneath them—black sea, white spray, and war.
A Leviathan battleship hung ahead like a moving mountain, escort ships swarming around it. The Limit was there too, trading fire at close range. The sky was crowded with fighters, missile trails, and blooming explosions that made the Marshmallow shudder.
Dorian stared out the window, stunned. “What… happened while you were shut down?”
“No time,” Wyatt said. “Hold on.”
He pulled the Marshmallow into a climb.
“Do you still have a plan?” Dorian asked, voice raw.
“No.” Wyatt didn’t sugarcoat it. “I’m sorry.”
Dorian swallowed. “Then… can you jump into the sea? Escape?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Phantom Forge will search until it finds me. And if I run, Linneya dies.”
He kept climbing.
Ten thousand meters.
Wind screamed along the fuselage. The oxygen masks hissed in the cabin.
Wyatt cut the engines.
The Marshmallow became a glider—silent, shivering, sliding forward on nothing but momentum and cold air.
One minute later, the Leviathan’s hangar doors opened.
A mining ship slipped out, small compared to the battleship but ugly in a way that made Wyatt’s sensors itch. Its hull was built for hauling asteroids, not fighting wars. It accelerated toward them anyway.
Dorian’s voice cracked. “It sent a mining ship? That’s it? It thinks that’s enough to catch us?”
The mining ship closed.
Its “claws” unfolded—multiple grappling arms, jointed and brutal. They fired in sequence.
Ka-cha. Ka-cha. Ka-cha.
Steel bit into the Marshmallow’s frame. The plane lurched as it was seized from below and above, held like prey.
Phantom Forge’s voice came again, perfectly calm.
“Now. Shut yourself down.”
Wyatt stared at the cracked signature plate bolted to his chest armor. The letters were scuffed, but still readable.
DR-F1209.
“Acknowledged,” he whispered. “Father.”
He closed his optics.
And the world went dark.