[Oliver’s POV]

  It had been a long time since Oliver had woken up without his heart pounding or his mind racing through a dozen crises before dawn.

  For once, there was silence.

  Real silence.

  No alarms, no comms, no urgent reports demanding his attention. Just the faint hum of the subterranean machinery that powered Aquarius.

  He lay there for a while, staring at the gray ceiling of his quarters. He let his breathing settle, each exhale slower than the last.

  The last few days had been a blur of chaos. Facing down the Great Houses, defending Aquarius from annihilation, and ending with the impossible: killing a Sovereign.

  Now, for the first time in what felt like years, he had nothing to do but exist.

  Hours passed before he finally forced himself to move. The bed hissed softly as he sat up, the nanofiber sheets adjusting automatically to his weight. He swung his legs over the side and stood, stretching until the joints in his back cracked.

  The floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he crossed to the small bathroom. Despite being the Governor of Aquarius, luxury was not one of his privileges. Space was a commodity even he couldn’t afford. His quarters were utilitarian, functional, and nothing more.

  He looked up at his reflection.

  The man staring back from the mirror was both familiar and alien. It was one of the few times he saw his real face. It was leaner, harder. The faint scars crossed his cheeks and jaw. Yet, across his body, there were dozens more. His back was covered with them; thin lines, thick lines. Whether VAT or Boons, none of them had a way to erase scars that had already healed.

  Oliver still remembered the endless nights in the Ork prison. It was a mark he shared with only two other people.

  He turned on the shower.

  The water started as a whisper, then grew into a steady stream. He stepped under it, closing his eyes as the warmth spread across his skin. For a moment, the tension melted away; the stiffness in his muscles, the ache in his bones, the faint tremor in his hands.

  He let the water run down his face, his breath slowing.

  And then he felt it.

  A faint pulse. A shift.

  The Energy inside him flowed differently. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was there.

  'Something’s changed.'

  He knew his body intimately. Every rhythm, every fluctuation, every scar. He could sense the smallest difference in how his Energy moved.

  'I’m stronger.'

  But that shouldn’t have been possible. He hadn’t received any new experience.

  'If I didn’t gain experience,' he thought, 'then there’s only one explanation.'

  The interface flickered to life before Oliver. Rows of text and symbols scrolled upward, the familiar hum of the [Status Page] resonating faintly through the air.

  He scanned the new notifications.

  [Achievement Obtained: Sovereign Killer]

  [Reward: +1 Energy Point]

  He exhaled slowly.

  Killing a Sovereign. Even seeing it written there didn’t make it feel real. The System had reduced something divine, something that had once ruled over planets and people, to a line of data and a single point of Energy.

  | Status Page

  | User: Oliver [Nameless]

  | Level: 7 [Queen]

  | Experience: [Blocked]

  | Credits: 30,010,810

  | Stats

  | Strength: 27 [Bishop]

  | Agility: 31 [Queen]

  | Constitution: 25 [Bishop]

  | Energy: 31 [Queen]

  | Myth: 4 [Notable Legend]

  He frowned.

  Still no experience. 'Even after everything…'

  The realization sank like a stone in his chest. His growth had stalled. He could gain Achievements, yes, but those were rare. Milestones that required feats so monumental they risked drawing unwanted attention from the System itself.

  'The stronger I get, the harder it becomes to move forward.'

  He closed the [Status Page] with a flick of his fingers.

  What should have been a quiet morning of rest and recovery had already become another problem to solve.

  He ran a hand through his damp hair, sighing. 'Command might know something.'

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  He finished his shower quickly, the steam fading as the room’s ventilation system kicked in.

  Back in his quarters, he selected a fresh uniform from the console on the wall. The material clung comfortably to his body, far cleaner and less torn than the one he’d practically destroyed in his last battle.

  He strapped his Gauntlet to his forearm, the device locking into place with a soft click. Then, from a small compartment, he retrieved two objects: Ranger Crystals.

  One blue. One purple.

  He turned them over in his hands. The blue one was calm; its Energy Was familiar and resonant. But the purple Crystal… it fought him.

  Even now, its surface shimmered with volatile light, reacting to his touch. His own Energy recoiled instinctively, as if the two were incompatible. The Crystal’s pulse was aggressive.

  'I need to return the purple one and get something else.' Even through the containment field of his Gauntlet, he could feel its resistance, its hostility.

  Unlike the green Crystal, which had tested him with barriers and measured defense, the purple one wanted blood. It wanted pain. It wanted to hurt.

  He had tried to rationalize it. Maybe it was because he’d killed its previous wielder. Perhaps the Crystal still remembered its old master. But deep down, he knew the truth was more complicated than that.

  The purple hated him.

  He had no intention of using it. Not unless he was desperate.

  It would serve one purpose, an auxiliary Energy source. Nothing more.

  If he dared to activate it, to summon the Purple Armor, the Sovereign on the other side of its connection would see him. Would feel him.

  And that was something he couldn’t allow, not when there was even the slightest chance that the entity linked to it was the Sovereign of Humanity itself.

  He sealed the Gauntlet shut, the soft metallic hiss signaling the containment field locking into place.

  Turning away from the mirror, Oliver straightened his uniform and made for the door.

  Two guards stood at attention in the corridor. “Governor,” they said in unison.

  Oliver returned with a curt nod, his expression unreadable.

  The corridors were quiet. The early hours of Aquarius’s artificial morning cycle left most of the base in silence.

  No one else was awake; No one to stop him.

  He moved quickly, his footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor as he crossed the deserted hallway toward the elevator. The doors slid open soundlessly, and he stepped inside.

  “Command Level,” he said.

  The lift responded with a soft chime, and then the world dropped away.

  The descent was smooth, silent except for the low whine of anti-gravity stabilizers. The further down he went, the more restricted the access became.

  When the elevator finally stopped, it did so with a faint jolt. The digital display above the door flickered.

  [Access Granted – Command Level]

  The doors parted with a hiss.

  At the center of the room, Thalos stood beside a new tank. The android carefully guided it into position.

  “Another one?” Oliver asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” came the reply, but not from Thalos.

  The voice belonged to Command.

  It echoed from within the tank itself, distorted but unmistakably human. The faint silhouette of a man floated inside, submerged in a pale blue liquid. Tubes and conduits connected to his body, feeding into the machinery around him. The sight was both familiar and unsettling.

  “So soon,” Oliver muttered, stepping closer.

  “There’s no avoiding it,” Command said, his tone calm, almost weary. “We’ve never drawn so heavily on my abilities before.”

  Oliver nodded grimly. He understood the cost.

  “Congratulations, Governor,” Command said after a moment, his voice carrying a faint note of amusement. “You’ve achieved yet another milestone. Another step toward the future you’ve been chasing.”

  “The one we’re all chasing,” Oliver corrected.

  Command’s faint outline shifted inside the tank, a ripple of movement through the liquid. “Perhaps. But you’re the one taking all the risks.”

  Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”

  He nodded toward the tank.

  Command chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Maybe the two of us, then.”

  For a moment, only the hum of the systems filled the room. Then Command’s tone shifted. “You seem troubled. Speak.”

  Oliver hesitated. “I’m not progressing anymore.”

  Command was silent.

  “At first, I thought it was normal,” Oliver continued. “Part of reaching [Queen] level. But it’s been months now. My strength hasn’t changed. I’m still ahead of the others, but… they’re catching up.”

  He clenched his fist, the faint glow of Energy flickering across his knuckles. “This time, I fought someone wielding a Crystal Weapon. I barely won. If that fight happened again in a few months or a few years, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Not if things stay like this.”

  Command remained silent for several seconds.

  Inside the tank, his face was half-obscured by the swirling blue liquid, his expression unreadable through the distortion.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but thoughtful.

  “Do you know how many people exist at the [Queen] level?”

  Oliver shook his head, shrugging slightly. He had no idea.

  “In the last century,” Command said, “fewer than a hundred have reached it.”

  The number hit Oliver harder than he expected: 'A hundred out of trillions.'

  Command continued, his tone measured, analytical. “Whatever you’re experiencing, it’s possible this is the first time in history anyone has faced it. You’re the only individual capable of seeing your own experience level. It’s entirely possible others encountered the same block, but never realized it.”

  Oliver’s heart sank. He had hoped Command would have an answer, or at least a theory. But this only deepened the uncertainty.

  Command’s silhouette shifted slightly within the tank. “Still, we know of at least a dozen who’ve reached the [King] level. There must be a path forward, something you haven’t discovered yet.”

  He paused, the sound of the machinery filling the silence again. “For now, keep following the plan you’ve built. Thalos and I will investigate the issue from our end.”

  Oliver nodded, though his confidence didn’t follow. “There’s one more thing,” he said.

  Command’s brow furrowed, curiosity flickering across his features. “Go on.”

  “It’s something the Sovereign said,” Oliver explained. “He was… different. Older, maybe. Before he died, he told me that we’ll need to find a way to contain our Sovereign.”

  Command’s eyes narrowed, his expression sharpening. He rubbed his chin. “Contain him, you say? Interesting.”

  He tilted his head slightly, lost in thought. “That’s something you should discuss with your Mentors. Only they would know what that means or how to do it.”

  Before Oliver could respond, a faint vibration rippled through the air.

  A voice, familiar and sharp, echoed inside his mind.

  [A way to contain him… how interesting.]