The past was a cruel thing.
A history written in blood, twisted by deceit, and burned into the metal husks of knights that still carried its scars.
"The three Constellation Knights whose pilots attempted to betray the Nymphas Empire two hundred years ago... CK-37, Boötes. CK-05, Cygnus. CK-20, Aquila. Together, their pilots conspired to assassinate what they believed to be a corrupt emperor—alongside Andromeda's pilot of that era."
Boötes remained silent as I worked, the steady hum of cooling vents and the faint whirr of mechanical servos the only response. But I felt his attention, the weight of those glowing red optics locked onto me.
"Their intentions were good, but they were deceived by a now-extinct noble house—one whose very name has been erased from history."
The empire had nearly fallen that day, not from an external enemy, but from within. The conspirators believed they were saving the people. But in reality, they would have condemned the Nymphas Empire to the rule of a truly tyrannical monster.
The emperor they sought to kill had been a tyrant only to the nobles, stripping them of their power as they gorged themselves on wealth and cruelty. But to the common folk, he was a saint. A ruler who saw the suffering of his people and took the only action he could to save them.
The noble house that tricked Boötes and the others had spun a thousand lies, burying the truth beneath layers of deception.
Andromeda had seen it. He tried to warn his pilot, to warn the others. But for every truth he spoke, ten more lies were whispered into their ears.
When they attacked the imperial palace, Andromeda had no choice.
He overrode his pilot's control, defied the conspiracy, and stood alone against three Constellation Knights.
He had to kill them.
One after another, he cut them down.
The battle left the palace in ruins. Andromeda, drained of spirit energy, had taken so much from his own pilot by force that it killed him.
And then, before he was forcefully deactivated, he had hunted down the noble house responsible. He erased their name from history, erased their bloodline from the galaxy with purgatory fire.
Then he slept.
For two hundred years, Andromeda never chose another pilot. The weight of his actions, the shame of failing to protect his own, shattered him.
To most, he became Star Slayer.
But to himself?
A broken knight who had failed his only purpose.
I don't know why he chose me, after so long. Maybe he still doesn't know.
Maybe it was a mistake.
But that mistake had saved me. Time and time again. And no matter what, I would treasure that.
Regret That Never Fades
As I continued repairing Boötes in the wreckage of Freiheit's ruined machines, we spoke of the years after Andromeda's last stand.
[When I received my next pilot, I learned the truth Andromeda had spoken was correct.]
I paused, glancing up at the ragged metal titan. "So you do regret it."
[Of course I regret it, Pilot Firefly.] His voice was heavy. [I lost more than a pilot that day. If Andromeda hadn't already burned that apostate noble house to the ground, I would have split it apart with my scythe.]
A long pause.
[That day was the beginning of my hell—where none of my pilots live for more than three years.]
I tightened a final bolt in Boötes' chest. "If you regret it so much, then fix your mistakes."
[And how would you have me do that?]
I turned to face him fully.
"When I finish here, you're going to apologize to Andy. And you're going to start training Alex properly."
[Andromeda will never forgive me for my lack of faith in him.] Boötes' tone darkened. [And it is too late for the boy. Death has already marked him. He has been my pilot for three years—soon, he will die. Inevitably.]
I wiped my hands on my uniform and exhaled. "Then that's your burden to bear. To know that you will never be good enough to be forgiven. That every second Andromeda spends looking at you only makes him hate you more for how neglectful you've been to your pilot."
Boötes turned his head away.
He said nothing.
But I knew he heard me.
"And... done."
I finished securing the last fix in his chest and stepped back, wiping sweat from my forehead. The planet's night had fully set in, swallowing the horizon in darkness. Only the distant flashes of explosions above the atmosphere reminded me that war was still raging overhead.
"You're patched up as best as I could manage with what we have on hand. Your damage wasn't too severe—just spread out. But you should tell Alex to be careful."
Boötes rose from the ground, his movements far smoother than before. He stretched out his long, rusted limbs like an athlete warming up, testing each joint before finally speaking.
[Gratitude to you, Pilot Firefly. Your repairs are quick and effective.]
"Well, your damage was lighter than I expected. Considering how your Constellation Drive works, I guess it makes sense. If Alex were trained properly, you wouldn't be in such rough shape in the first place. You should be grateful mechanical engineering was part of Andromeda's training course for me."
I watched the twenty-foot giant move about, his joints responding with only minor resistance.
Then, something came to mind.
"Why did you make Alex attack Andromeda? Does it have something to do with General Rafellan?"
Boötes knelt down, bringing himself closer to my level.
[A late question, but yes, Pilot Firefly.] His voice dropped slightly. [General Martin Rafellan is the pilot of CK-08—Taurus. He was the former Vice-General of the Vibrio Hawk Battalion, and alongside another officer, he was responsible for Alex's so-called 'training.']
Something in his tone made me pause.
"You say that like it wasn't training."
Boötes' optics flickered slightly.
[Because it wasn't.] His words were slow, deliberate. [It was neither discipline nor instruction. It was something much worse.]
I stared at him, uneasy.
"How so?"
Boötes exhaled a thin jet of steam.
[It was not training, Pilot Firefly. It was sadism. Or perhaps... just cowardice.]
Sternly, Boötes spoke.
[Rafellan is using Pilot Cyonis like a war slave. He forces him to take the lead in every major battle while he stays at the rear, directing the fight from safety. To outsiders, it appears as though Rafellan is a caring senior, fostering a brotherly bond with Alex. But to the other Knight pilots, their relationship is obvious—master and slave. It was manageable when the Vice-General was present, but in the last month and a half, since his departure, it has grown far worse.]
I frowned. "Did Alex not try to transfer to another battalion? Or follow the Vice-General to his new post?"
[He did. I also attempted to enlist with him in secret.] Boötes' tone turned cold. [But Martin Rafellan and his men blocked the requests, claiming that his experience as a senior pilot—one chosen by CK-08's Resurrection Protocol—made him irreplaceable. The majority of Star Pilots are bound to their Knights this way. It is rare for a Constellation Knight to refuse the Ninth and Tenth Protocols. Andromeda is an even rarer case, as his final contingency exempts him from these protocols entirely. He only follows the Third.]
Hearing this from Boötes instead of Andromeda irritated me. He had an odd tendency to withhold vital information at times.
"This is good to know," I muttered, crossing my arms. "But it still doesn't explain why you attacked us above Duradel's orbit."
Boötes turned his head slightly, kneeling as he contemplated my words. Even he seemed unsure why he had targeted Andromeda so aggressively. Silence hung between us as I watched him struggle with his own reasoning.
My gaze drifted to my pilot helmet, still resting on the metal pole I had placed it on earlier.
Andromeda could hear everything I did through it. He was watching. Listening.
Boötes still hadn't spoken.
I sighed. "Could it be that you thought Andromeda could save your pilot if he forgave you? That if he accepted you again, it would break the cycle—the 'curse' that dooms your pilots to die within three years? And maybe... from General Rafellan, too?"
[The logic makes no sense, Pilot Firefly.] Boötes' voice was stiff. [Curses and jinxes are paranormal phenomena that do not exist. And yet, I am undeniably under one. My betrayal to the Empire marked me. As well as Andromeda.]
"So am I right?" I pressed.
Boötes hesitated, staring toward where Andromeda and Alex had walked off.
Then, at last, he turned back to me.
[Yes.] His voice was low. [Yes, you are, Pilot Firefly.]
A small smile tugged at my lips. I stepped away, lifting my pilot helmet from its perch. As I cradled it under my arm and turned to leave, Boötes' voice called after me.
[Pilot Firefly.]
I paused.
[Do you think Andromeda could ever forgive me... for being the reason he had to kill his own pilot?]
I didn't look back. "I don't know. That's up to him."
I continued walking. "It has nothing to do with me, so I won't interfere. Talking to you like this... it was for the sake of that soldier's survival. And maybe my own selfish curiosity. You're a Constellation Knight, Boötes—don't run away from your responsibilities. Be the star that saves the boy you cursed."
For a moment, silence.
Then, a shift in the air—Boötes flinched.
I didn't know why.
But as I rounded the corner of the scrap heap, I found Alex crouched low, his expression tense.
He had heard everything.
I walked past him without a word, heading straight for Andromeda.
Let them sort it out themselves.
[Pilot.] Andromeda greeted me as I approached. He lowered his hand, revealing one of Nicole's drones. [This arrived while you were repairing CK-37, Boötes. It pinpoints the target's location—301 degrees northwest of our current position. The attached image data confirms that the site is a heavily fortified Orbital Defence Cannon. A one-hour flight from here.]
I took the drone from his hand, my grin widening. "That's good to hear."
[Agreed. We can eliminate two targets in one operation—an execution of the fabled 'two birds with one stone' strategy. I recommend immediate deployment under cover of night. If the enemy forces guarding the ODCs are light enough, we can destroy them outright.]
Andromeda's chest armour parted open, waiting for me to embark. [Please enter, Pilot.]
I lingered for a moment, watching Alex move out of sight, heading back toward Boötes.
"Give them a second." I placed my helmet on and took a deep breath. "For Alex's sake, it's better if they come with us. Leaving them behind would be a mistake."
Andromeda remained still, his chest panel open.
[Of course, Pilot.]
I climbed into the cockpit and strapped in.
As the hatch remained open, I started running through Andromeda's system checks. The neural link between us allowed for near-instantaneous reactions—he moved as I willed, as if his body were my own. But it didn't let me hear his thoughts. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking.
Especially after he had listened to my conversation with Boötes.
Science said he was nothing more than metal, wires, and code.
But I knew there was something more. A spark of humanity, buried in his programming somewhere.
Without warning, Andromeda moved.
He shifted, leaning around the corner of the scrap heap.
Through his turquoise visor, he watched.
Boötes and Alex.
Talking.
And in that moment, I knew I was right about Andromeda.
A Knight's Oath Renewed
Alex stared at the towering metal form before him, his fists clenched. His voice cracked with frustration, with something deeper than mere anger—three years of isolation, of fighting alone, of screaming at a silent god that had finally chosen to speak.
"So, uh... you've been helping me. All this time?" His voice was laced with disbelief. "Thanks and all, but it would've been real fucking great if you and me were working together before! Would've been nice to have someone actually answer me when I was yelling my soul out at them three years ago, too! This whole time, you had the engineers fooled into thinking your voice box was broken?"
Boötes loomed, steam hissing from his joints like a sigh that had taken years to exhale.
[I have lost too many pilots in such short intervals, Pilot Cyonis. I did not wish to give you hope only to take it away again. If I could have chosen an already trained pilot instead of you, I would have, but your symbiosis rate was much higher than all others present on your home world.]
"Hope?" Alex let out a hollow laugh, pacing in agitation. "Hope? You stole me from my home! Got me dragged into being a soldier!" His voice trembled, but whether from anger or something else, I couldn't tell. "Three years since we met, and you said nothing. A demigod said nothing because he was afraid—while forcing me, the child it parasitized, to be braver."
Boötes' massive frame groaned under the weight of his own regret.
"[Despite never speaking, Pilot... I always listened. To all your complaints about the general, your reprimands of me, and your dreams of being a farmer.]" He paused, something unreadable in his mechanical tone. "[Something I once was.]"
Alex stopped pacing. I felt my own breath hitch.
"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice quiet but sharp.
I felt the same shock rippling through me.
[Before I was a Constellation Knight,]" Boötes admitted, "[my model was originally a prototype—an agricultural knight meant for farming. My original pilot used me as a multi-purpose tool on their land.]
Silence. Even Andromeda, standing beside me, did not stir.
[Somewhere along the way,] Boötes continued, [we were pulled into the first war against the Dream Swarm. Upgrade after upgrade, I was reforged into CK-37, a Constellation-grade knight weapon. I was built to plough fields. And then, one day, those fields became battlefields. The crops became bodies.]
Alex swallowed hard. For once, the reckless energy in him had stilled.
I saw the moment the realization hit—the sheer irony of it all.
"Ha," Alex let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "So that makes two of us, huh? Both stolen from the farms to be soldiers. Difference is, you were built into one."
His expression twisted as if he was fighting himself. Then, with a groan, he ran a hand through his mess of hair, muttering under his breath before exhaling in resignation.
"Fuck. Fine. Let's start over." His voice was gruff, but there was something softer underneath. "I'll forgive you—only because you're more pathetic than me. Just promise me you'll try to be what you're supposed to be from now on, Boot."
A low, electric hum vibrated through the air, and then—like an oath being forged in fire—Boötes' chest opened toward Alex, his voice reverberating with solemn conviction.
[Then I will do everything in my prerogative to change that from this moment on, Alex Cyonis, my pilot. The only soil you will be allowed to die on is the ground of your home world, in a warm bed from old age.] The red lights of his optics flickered with a determination I had not seen before. [I will not be haunted by this illogical curse any longer. I will fulfil my duty to you.]
Alex hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, climbing into the cockpit of the knight that had been his tormentor, his guardian, his silent god. But now—now, for the first time—he stepped inside not as a prisoner of fate, but as a partner.
I watched them, something in my chest tightening.
It would take time. Wounds like theirs didn't just heal. But Alex had taken the first step. And if he had the resolve, I knew he could become an excellent pilot—perhaps even one of the greatest Star Knights in the Empire.
And until then, I would protect that spark of hope in him.
I would protect it from this cold world.
And when this fight was over, I would protect it from General Rafellan too.
Andromeda's cockpit sealed fully with a final hiss. With one last glance at the two, I stepped forward from the shadows.
"You two ready?" I asked, my voice steady. "We have a destination."