Chapter 63 | Another Day

Leon watched the holographic displays cycle through settings and codes as Tess worked on shutting down the hangar's defense grid.

Outside, the shield bearers held position in the corridor, guarding the narrow control room. The rest of the team waited in silence, watching him, ready for further orders.

"Sir… I-I got the door open. Turrets are off," Tess said, almost whispering.

"Good work." Leon then switched his comms. "Ops Command, Obsidian Two."

"Go ahead, Two."

"Objective complete. Quadrant C-4 hangar control room secured. Defense system offline and hangar doors are open. Be advised, Fulgaris are assisting the hostiles."

There was no immediate response.

Leon waited, knowing the communications officer was relaying the update to the Warcenturion overseeing the mission. Fulgaris involvement meant they couldn't just deploy cavoras only composed of Nullaris and Ordaris anymore.

His eyes drifted to the two dead Ordari guards near the console. Both were holding spears, he noticed.

A mistake. Ordaris could inject mana into weapons, but they lacked the nanites to process it properly. The spear was technically an MRM-class weapon, but against a Class II armor powered by a true Fulgari, it would do little more than scratch the plating.

A rifle would have been more effective, not because it could pierce the armor, but because of the raw impact. Fulgari armor couldn't absorb kinetic force constantly; it drained too much mana to stay active. Kinetic resistance had to be triggered manually, and it was reserved for high-risk moments like Breacher Pod impacts.

The longer he thought about it, the more he realized how narrow his thinking had been.

He had been born and raised in Virellion, the capital city of Sanctum Virel, the polished heart of the Imperial Covenant. There, Fulgaris were everywhere, but reality had caught up to him. Through classified data and his interactions with the regular army, he had come to understand the broader reality.

Fulgaris only made up fifteen percent of the Imperial Covenant.

"Obsidian Two. Command. Hold control room and hangar. Main force en route." said the communications officer, drawing him back to reality.

"Copy." He switched to Group One's channel. "Hold the hangar. Reinforcements are on the way."

He cut the line and turned to Tess. "Pull up the external view."

One of the holograms shifted, displaying the vast stretch of space. Two seconds later, the alert system flashed red. A Frigate, flanked by four Corvettes, warped in just outside anti-ship range. Hull panels slid open and turrets rose into place.

"The other two cavoras probably haven't secured their control rooms yet," Beth said, eyes on the monitor beside Ruby.

"They need to hurry up. I'm ready to leave already," Ruby muttered.

From each warship, five Valkeries launched and streaked toward the asteroid field. Defense systems still online fired anti-ship missiles, but the Frigate and Corvettes' turrets lit up, intercepting the incoming threats before they could reach the carriers.

The long distance gave the Imperial Army time to track the missile paths. But by the time the Orbital Carriers reached the point where the anti-ship systems could pose a real threat, they had already dipped into a blind spot. One Tess had created by disabling the defense grid around the hangar.

Within the hour, the main force arrived to relieve them. The Unbounded didn't make another attempt to retake the control room. Leon figured they had fallen back deeper into the outpost. Given how much resistance they faced even during a surprise assault, it wouldn't surprise him if most of the enemy forces were regrouping near the center.

"Leon! Over here!" Mason waved from the middle of the hangar.

Leon and his vora had just entered the bay. It was a mess.

Unbounded bodies scattered across the floor, debris laid everywhere, and smaller transports shoved aside to make room for the massive Valkyries.

He scanned the hangar as they walked toward Mason, relieved to see none of his Obsidians among the dead. Some of the regulars were already setting up equipment and unloading supplies, preparing for a drawn-out fight now that Fulgaris were involved.

"Where's Nyra?" Leon asked.

"I'm doing fine," Mason replied in a joking manner, "just a little bruise from getting shot at."

Leon shook his head. From the look of it, while the Nullaris and Ordaris had outnumbered Group One, the real threat was the Fulgaris, who had numbered around twenty.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Leon said, slapping Mason on the back.

"That's right!" Mason puffed out his chest. "What about you?"

"Nothing happened to Leon on my watch," Owen cut in with a teasing tone as Vora One caught up, dropping their weapons beside crates the regulars had brought in.

Mason stepped forward, squaring up with Owen. "What was that, shorty?"

"Ha—Mason," Leon said, stepping in before it could escalate. "Where's Nyra?"

Still eyeing Owen, Mason jerked a thumb toward a nearby door. "She's over there with a few of the regulars' cavora commanders."

Leon nodded and headed in that direction, leaving the two to their usual bickering. At first, Mason had been excited—proud even—to be named third in command and a vora lead. But after a while, the jealousy crept in.

Owen had taken over as Leon's shield bearer, and ever since, the two clashed every chance they got, arguing over who filled the role better. Mason had also discovered Owen wasn't used to being called "small." He was a big guy himself, but Mason still had a couple of inches and some extra muscle on him. That alone was enough to get under Owen's skin.

The door slid open, and Leon stepped into the airlock. It closed behind him, and a second set of doors stood ahead. The chamber hissed as the airlock system kicked in, pressurizing the space and flooding it with oxygen.

"They must've turned the system back on," he muttered.

In emergencies, it was standard to deactivate airlock systems and depressurize combat zones. Blasting a hole in a pressurized section during a firefight was a quick way to get everyone killed. It also slowed movement, nobody wanted to wait on pressure cycles when fighting.

Once the cycle completed, the second doors opened.

Leon removed his helmet. The sharp, metallic scent of blood hit immediately. A few bodies lay in the corridor. Regulars were in the middle of dragging them into a separate room.

When they noticed him, they stepped aside. Those not carrying anything saluted. Leon nodded in return as he passed.

About halfway to the first intersection was a room guarded by two Obsidians. Leon was too mentally drained to bother pulling up markers without his helmet, and he wasn't about to put it back on now that he'd finally taken it off. Still, he figured they were members of Vora Two.

The two guards saluted as he approached. He stopped in front of the door and gave a small nod, signaling them to lower their arms.

"Is she in there?" Leon asked.

"Yes, sir," replied the guard on his right.

"Let me in."

The guard turned and pressed his palm to the panel. The door hissed open.

Inside, where Nyra sat at the head of a U-shaped table. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, bangs brushed to the sides. A few damp strands clung to her face as her sweat began to dry. Her elbows rested on the table, fingers laced under her chin, brows drawn tight in a focused frown.

When she saw him, she rose to her feet along with six others in the white and gold Class II armor of the regulars.

Leon lifted a hand. "Continue."

He took a seat by the door.

"We were wrapping up anyway. If no one has any further questions, that'll be all," Nyra said, her eyes scanning the room.

The cavora commanders remained silent.

"Alright, then. Dismissed."

They saluted and filed out. Leon stood and made his way toward her.

She passed by him without a word, but he turned and caught her hand.

As the door closed behind them, he turned her around.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, eyes scanning her for injuries.

Nyra kept her gaze down and nodded. He took a few more seconds to look her over, double-checking for any signs of wounds.

"Are you going to keep holding my hand?" she asked in a whisper.

He followed her gaze and realized she'd been staring at his right hand, still wrapped around hers. He cleared his throat, let go, and took a step back.

She tucked her arms behind her back.

"Any problems?" he asked.

"A few with minor injuries, nothing serious. I was just filling them in," she said, now looking at him with a neutral expression.

He hated that look when she aimed it at him.

Leon stood there a moment, silent. Then he sighed.

"Listen, about the other day—"

"Leon, let's talk about it another day, okay?" she cut in gently.

"But—"

The door opened. The guard stepped in fast, not wasting time. His eyes went straight to Leon.

"Sir. Emergency orders from Obsidian Command," the guard said, standing at attention.

"Move! Let's go!"

"Grab your gear!"

Leon and Nyra, followed closely by the two Ruinaris who had been guarding the meeting room, stepped into the hangar. The emergency order had been dispatched cavora-wide, and the place was chaos. Soldiers scrambled to pack their kits, yelling over one another as they loaded into the Valkyrie that had just landed, its engines humming with urgency.

The regulars stood off to the side, watching the storm unfold. Confused. The Nullari and Ordari among them whispered as they caught sight of the elite unit mobilizing.

"Mason!" Leon called out, spotting him at the base of the Valkyrie's ramp. "How much longer?"

"We'll be loaded in five!"

Leon climbed aboard and moved through the cargo hold toward the terminal. Obsidians rushed past, securing their weapons, locking into place. The walls of the carrier were half-filled already.

He synced his helmet to the terminal, switching to an encrypted channel.

"Obsidian Command. Captain Ezra."

"Captain," a voice responded. "We're transmitting your orders now. Proceed with haste."

The line cut. A pulsing alert lit up on his HUD—a file transfer incoming.

"Astralis…" he muttered. "Did the MRM sites get overrun?"

All they'd been given was a planetary coordinate, the name Astralis, and a distress beacon from a colony. No status update. No casualty report. Just an order to move—his cavora, plus another that had just finished securing the far side of the outpost.

Leon exhaled, stumbled slightly as the Valkyrie lifted, and magnetized his boots to the floor with a pulse of mana. He glanced around. Every Obsidian was already locked in. Crates lined the aisle, strapped down with harnesses and pulsing mana that clung them tight to the deck.

He spotted an open space near Nyra.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he stepped in beside her. He locked into place, and the harness slid out automatically, securing him with a mechanical click.

"Astralis. Mana beasts probably surged out of the MRM site," Leon said.

"Probably?"

"The orders were vague. Just said a distress signal came from the colony on the planet. We're the closest available."

He didn't dwell on it. The Order got dispatched to signals like this all the time, especially when intel was thin. That usually meant it was urgent, and they were better equipped than the regulars to handle whatever was waiting.

The Valkyrie returned to the Inceptor without issue. Most of the outpost's defense grid was offline now, and the flight path was clear.

"Resupply. We've got six hours until we hit Astralis," Leon ordered as the cavora disembarked.

He had already spoken to Henry during the flight. The Inceptor's captain had received the coordinates and set course. By the time Leon stepped into the hangar, the warp countdown had already begun.

Six hours—that's all they had.

The cavora unloaded crates, logged inventory, resupplied, and packed it all back in.

The Valkyrie underwent a full inspection to ensure nothing would fail mid-mission.

Leon stayed moving. He drafted fallback plans, studied Astralis' geography and known threat zones, and went over the camp layout already established with the vora leads. When he finished, he compiled a streamlined mission brief and distributed it to every Obsidian.

He didn't even make it to the cafeteria. Instead, he chewed on the rations stuffed in his pouch while hunched over the terminal. Barely had time to shower. Just enough to rinse off and wipe down his armor before they exited warp.

Then it was back into the Valkyrie, boots hitting metal, gravity shifting, Astralis rushing up to meet them.