The workshop was quiet—too quiet for a rebel base preparing for war.
Kael stood over the arcane cores, his fingers trembling slightly as he watched Dr. Vell rest in the med-chamber. Her face, so familiar now, seemed worn down by years of silence.
"You're her," he said, finally. "You're my mother."
Dr. Vell opened her eyes slowly. The faintest flicker of guilt passed through them.
"I tried to protect you, Kael," she whispered. "By disappearing. By hiding you from the Empire's records. You weren't supposed to be part of any of this."
"Well," he said, stepping back, "I'm kind of in the middle of all of this now."
Vell pushed herself to sit up. "You're smarter than they ever imagined. You've gone beyond everything I taught you. But that means they'll stop at nothing to erase you."
Before Kael could respond, the alarms blared.
Not a full assault—something worse.
Precision. Silence. A hunter.
Zephyra sprinted into the room. "We've got a problem. A royal-grade bounty hunter just landed outside the perimeter. Name's Ashryn—goes by the title Fang of the Crown."
Kael cursed under his breath. "They sent a royal?"
"Not just any royal," Riven added, cocking his gun. "Ashryn doesn't bring you back in chains. Just in pieces."
---
Outside, fog curled around the rebel base like a stalking beast. Kael, Zephyra, and Riven moved quietly through the mist, nerves high.
Ashryn appeared like a wraith—tall, silver-armored, face masked, blades whispering in and out of shadow. His voice rang out calm and cruel.
"Kael. Genius. Fugitive. Son of Vell."
Kael's breath caught.
"I was paid well for your head," Ashryn said, drawing twin glaiveblades. "But I must admit—this hunt excites me."
The fight began like thunder.
Ashryn moved impossibly fast, slicing through steel and flame, blocking Kael's Nullfang with a mirror-field charm. Zephyra joined in, her strikes swift and reckless, dancing between blades and throwing smoke bombs that didn't even slow the assassin.
Kael's mind raced. Ashryn's movements weren't random—they were patterned. Timed.
He downloaded a battle log into his neural HUD, ran probability sequences, and found the flaw: a two-second window between power cycles in the mirror-field.
He shouted. "Now!"
Zephyra kicked Ashryn back, just long enough for Kael to charge the Nullfang. He fired—
Direct hit.
Ashryn's armor cracked. Magic shimmered and died.
But he didn't fall.
He threw a dagger, catching Kael in the shoulder. Zephyra lunged—slicing across his chest—but not deep enough.
Ashryn vanished into smoke, wounded but alive.
And Kael—bleeding and breathless—realized this wouldn't be the last time.
---
Later that night, as Kael recovered, Zephyra stood at the edge of the outpost, staring into the stars.
Riven approached. "You heading out?"
Zephyra nodded. "We need supplies. Reinforcements. A second base. I'll be faster on my own."
Riven paused. "Kael didn't ask you to—"
"He doesn't have to," she said. "I protect him. That's what I do."
She glanced back once, just once, before vanishing into the dark with a glider pack and a bag of explosives.
---
She reached the black market city of Duskval the next day. Full of killers, smugglers, and empire spies, it was a place even the rebellion feared to touch.
Perfect for her.
She met with an old contact, gambled her way through a blood ring, and slipped poison into a noble's drink—all in the span of a single night.
But it wasn't until she stood on a rooftop, watching the skyline burn from an imperial crackdown, that she finally whispered aloud:
"I think I love him."
She hated that it made her smile.
---
Back at base, Kael stared at the shattered remains of Ashryn's armor chip.
A royal assassin knew his name.
Knew who he was.
That meant one thing.
The Empire was done playing games.
And soon, Kael—the genius with no magic, the Crownless King—would strike back.