3 Months Later.

  "ETA, TEN MINUTES TO PLANET APPROACH!"

  Keilan's eyes snapped open just as the projected voice died down, having awoken him from the short nap he'd been taking.

  He rose from the plush, plump bed he was on, glancing idly around the little cabin he was enclosed in, bare save for a sleep-worthy bed, a table and chair, a wardrobe for clothes, even though he'd packed none, and a window that saw out into the dark expanse of space.

  Initially, he'd been assigned a more plush and extravagant enclosure, far more lavish than what he was currently in—meant for the officers at the very top and, on occasion, visiting dignitaries, but he'd forfeited it for this simple one.

  Many had called it stupid— Solis at the forefront—but for some reason, he found the lavishness of those rooms dull and somewhat depressing. Maybe because he could produce something like that anytime with his affinity, which made it all the more stale, he didn't know. He just wanted something simple.

  Keilan shifted off the bed with a groan, legs sliding into the soft slippers resting over the soft brown rug beneath.

  He took a few seconds to brush his teeth, to wash off the weird bitter taste in his mouth. A few minutes later, he was out of the shower, summoning a small gust of wind to dry off the water that was still dripping from his body.

  Freshly dried off, he threw his used towel into the laundry basket at the door just as a black and grey leather armor materialized out of thin air to wrap around him, enclosing him in a soft and comfortable embrace that covered him up to his neck.

  His shoulders, breast, abs, knee joint, elbows were enclosed in a thicker sheet of grey metal. And although the rest of the body lacked the same level of protection, the leather covering them was of great make.

  It wasn't surprising. After all, this was the Armor of Twilight; an exquisite piece of art made by a Spirit King with very few caliber. This was the armor won from the defeat of Lord Zein, Scion of House Uzeer.

  The armor was made for movement oriented fighters, warriors who were blurs until their enemies were dead. Vanis was not one of those, his method of fighting was to wait for his enemies to come to him. Because of this, the Verrille scion had instead chosen to gift it to Keilan, who was more focused on speed and wouldn't take as many hits.

  Sighing once again at his disrupted nap, Keilan made his way out of the cabin, emerging into a long hallway filled with the rushing forms of soldiers, many of whom stopped to salute him—even Spirit Kings—at his appearance.

  He was already known by this point as a companion of their lords.

  Keilan made his way down the hall—his left—dodging between hurrying between men and women in battle robes as he turned towards a second hall. He might not have taken the room originally given to him, but he'd made sure to take one close to the command station.

  On his way to the command center, he felt the dull hum of the massive construct powering the DreadShip thrumming up the soles of his feet and up his legs. It was a mild effect so he didn't really pay much attention to it.

  "ETA, THREE MINUTES TO PLANET APPROACH!"

  Approaching a door at the end of the hallway, he nodded at the two guards who stepped aside at his approach, rewarding him with a nod as he pushed open the thick door.

  Keilan felt himself shiver as he walked through the doorway, and he glanced around, futilely trying to catch the invisible scanner installed around it, meant to flush out any imposter.

  Unsuccessful again, he turned his attention back to the room he'd just stepped into.

  The command station was built in a crescent shape. A great screen opened up into the dark of space, with multiple chairs positioned facing the screen.

  They were occupied.

  Dim red light covered the room, giving it a very heavy atmosphere.

  Solis sat behind them all, on a great black executive chair settled on a raised platform that looked over the other officials, with a full view of the screen in front.

  "Hello Keilan, I see you had a nice nap," a voice drew his attention and Keilan turned to watch as Vanis rose from a chair more comfortable than those of the officials, but a little bit lesser in authority than Solis's.

  The Verrille lord was wearing a little smile that told Keilan that he knew his nap had not been nice.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He glared at the other man. "Next time, we're removing all speakers from my room. In fact, get it away from any hallways I will be staying in."

  "Quit whining, Servant boy. You don't see anybody here complaining, do you?" Solis said without looking back, and before Keilan could formulate a retort, another voice interrupted.

  "Oh oh! I've also got complaints!" Huiron rose from a seat that had seemingly been empty a second ago. The young man was wearing black armor of complete leather make, with dark smoke drifting down his shoulders and onto the floor. He twirled a dagger on his finger as he eyed one of the ladies sitting at the officer's chair with unabashed appreciation

  Keilan couldn't lie, the view of the Saulae scion in his eerie black armor made him shiver a little — it always did whenever he saw the other man dressed like that. Dark and menacing.

  A black scaled serpent rose from his back, wrapping its body around the neck of Huiron as the young man took his eyes from the lady, cocking his fists against his waist and turning a mock glare at Solis.

  "My sleep was also interrupted! I want compensation!"

  This time Solis did glance back, eyes trailing the head of the Saulae scion down to his no doubt comfortable boots, after which he turned back to the screen without a word said.

  Huiron's glare went deeper at the blatant dismissal and his mouth opened to no doubt spew out very unkind words when a hand fell on his shoulder.

  "Take a seat, Huiron," Sareina said. "Or Solis might just throw you off his ship."

  Huiron opened his mouth to clearly refute when he saw Solis nod. Keilan couldn't help but chuckle as the Saulae scion's mouth snapped shut with an audible clack.

  Sareina smiled, turning her attention to Keilan, and he watched as she glided over to where he and Vanis stood, her dress—born from a weird union between metal and silk—flowed around her like it didn't weigh more than a ton and could stop a boulder.

  "Oof," she said as she drew closer, squinting at Keilan. "I see why you're grouchy, now. There are dark circles under your eyes." Her smile turned calmer. "Unfortunately, Kei, we had to. Our 'commander' here," her mouth shook in a clear attempt to hold back a smile. And through the edge of his vision, he caught the same on both Vanis and Huiron, "has proclaimed that we will be arriving at our destination any time soon, and thus deemed it fit to disturb the peaceful rest of every soul in a hundred light-year."

  The way she framed it made Solis look like a villain, a commander without joy who wanted the same for his Soldiers. And the Verrille scion, having caught on to this, opened his mouth to argue, but since he wasn't being accused of anything, he went mute after a moment of contemplation, glaring daggers at Keilan like he was the one responsible.

  Just then, the same voice that had been projecting all over, the same that had disturbed his beauty sleep, came forth, this time from a lady sitting on one of the chairs in front of the screen.

  He couldn't help but notice the way she shook, subdued and fearful, as she noticed his attention.

  "STAR SYSTEM IN SIGHT, ETA TEN SECONDS. PREPARE FOR PLANETARY APPROACH!" She said into a projector thingy attached to the shop controls in front of her.

  Another voice, this time a man, spoke. "Commander? Permission to put the fleet on descent."

  The room went quiet as everyone turned to wait for Solis's answer. Even his immediate circle went quiet, Huiron included. This was a moment that required utmost seriousness.

  Instead of answering, the commander in question turned his face towards another man, this one middle-aged looking in crisp military uniform.

  "Lieutenant Shirel, how goes the War Titans? Are they ready for Descent?"

  The man tapped onto his side of the screen, projecting a view that was not of deep space. A line of dots appeared on the screen, many of which were glowing green, with only a couple glowing red.

  "Majority of them are ready, sir. Only ten stands are uncalibrated. We should have those ready within the next few seconds."

  Solis nodded and then turned to another officer, this one a middle-aged woman with grey hair streaked over black.

  "Lieutenant Metel, how are the weapons? Ready to go?"

  The woman nodded sharply. "The DreadShip hums for war, Commander, and her weapons are primed and ready."

  Another woman this time. "Lieutenant Telle, my soldiers?"

  "All are in their space suits, Commander. Your word is all we need."

  "Good," Solis said, and then he turned to the first man who had spoken. "You have permission, Lieutenant Rolal. Put the fleet on descent."

  The atmosphere turned humid.

  The man, Rolal, nodded and then turned towards the woman at the projector, who nodded in response to an unspoken conversation.

  Her voice thundered out into the entire ship a moment later.

  "ALL WAR TITANS CALIBERATED AND READY," she said after a quick glance at Lieutenant Shirel, who gave a subtle nod. "WEAPONS HOT AND READY TO GO. SOLDIERS IN SPACE SUITS."

  Slowly, Keilan felt the ship tilt forward, like a spear pointed diagonally at a rock lying on the sand. Except this time that sand was the dark shadowy void of space, and the rock a distant sun—closer than most, yes, but still distant.

  Despite the imbalance, nobody lost their footing.

  "ALL CAPTAINS, PREPARE FOR DESCENT."

  Solis made a sequence of hand gestures and the woman nodded, her voice projecting once again.

  "SPEAR FORMATION!" She said, "DREAD TWO, THREE, AND FOUR, YOU WILL TAKE UP THE VANGUARD. DREAD ONE WILL BE RIGHT BEHIND. ALL OTHER SHIPS, FALL BEHIND DREAD ONE."

  "As ordered," a couple of voices came in through a receiving sound projector in the room, signalling the captains of the other DreadShips' assent.

  A moment later, on each side of their ship, Keilan watched as two behemoths of obsidian metal, with a length stretching for miles, lumbered forward into view. They were shaped like a bident, with two menacing prongs piercing out like two awkward, forward-facing fangs.

  Jutting from the sides were dozens of long pole-like constructs, each in the shape of jagged lightning as they turned to point forward, their tips brimming with powers that washed over the room like a heat wave.

  Another ship descended from the top like a great hand, coming to position itself in front of Solis's ship, with a few dozen miles in between.

  Silence reigned as all eyes turned to Solis, waiting for the last call.

  The Verrille didn't keep them waiting.

  "Descend."

  Keilan's view blurred as the ship jerked forward, humming like a great beast as it moved at speeds beggaring that of light. And a moment later, they punched through the border of their target system, and everyone's view returned to normal, just in time to watch the world consumed in utter, devastating chaos.