"You are a threat, Arthur. And threats… must be eliminated."
Fifteen years.
For fifteen long years, Arthur Ragnar had drifted through the stars—hunted, wounded, living the life of a fugitive. Labeled a murderer. A traitor to humanity. A disgrace to House Ragnar.
The Shadow—his battleship was once one of the most formidable battleships in the empire—was now a ghost of its former glory. It groaned beneath the weight of silence, surrounded by a crescent of enemy warships that crept ever closer.
Inside the dimly lit cockpit, flickering lights danced across the walls like fragments of fading memories. Arthur leaned over the control panel, sweat dripping from his chin. His once-pristine commander's uniform was torn and bloodstained—just like the empire that had abandoned him.
Falsely accused of murdering his own comrades and conspiring with enemy forces, he had been cast out, without mercy.
The ship's AI spoke in its usual calm, female voice:
" Power Reserves: 5% "
" Recommended Action: Immediate Evacuation "
"Evacuate where?" he muttered bitterly. "There's nowhere left."
Outside, a fleet of purple-hulled ships surrounded him like vultures circling a dying beast. Silent. Calculated. Sent by her.
Duchess Merida Ragnar—his father's second wife.
Arthur had been born of a concubine, a commoner. His mother, Lia, was a gentle woman with sharp eyes and a voice like starlight. Eighteen years ago, assassins sent by his stepmother had silenced that voice forever. He had watched it happen. Powerless. Voiceless.
After her death, his father had turned cold, offering him neither protection nor affection. Despite Arthur's remarkable talent and unshakable resolve, he was never got the resources he needed to grow stronger—kept under constant surveillance by the will of the duchess.
Fifteen years had passed since that night on the moon estate of House Ragnar. The night Duchess Merida stood proudly beside her son, Kael Ragnar, as Arthur was dragged away by military officials. Accused of murdering his comrades in battle. Branded a traitor for conspiring with enemy forces. The rightful heir replaced by a favored son.
Murderer.
Disgrace.
Bastard.
Traitor.
Through asteroid fields laced with mines. Through brutal warzones. Through derelict systems where even the boldest pirates dared not tread—Arthur survived. Alone.
The cockpit suddenly shrieked with warnings.
" Incoming Enemy Battleships "
" Distance: 4,000 Gr "
" ETA: 3 Minutes "
He didn't move.
What could he do? The ship's weapons were dry. The engines coughed sparks. Oxygen levels were plummeting. His vision blurred. System after system powered down.
" Enemy Lock Detected, Impact Inbound "
" Goodbye, Commander "
He laughed softly. "After all this time... I die here, alone, with nothing but regrets."
Arthur slumped to the floor as a final blast tore through the hull. Metal screamed. Fire bloomed. Then came the vacuum. And then—darkness.
But in that moment... time slowed.
His breath hitched. His body failed him, but his mind—his mind awakened. He saw everything. Every year. Every betrayal. Every scar.
His mother's lifeless eyes.
The cold smile of his stepmother.
The trial where no one listened.
The exile. The lies. The war.
And the truth.
Duchess Merida had orchestrated it all.
As the void reached for him, Arthur looked down at the pendent hanging around his neck—a small metallic sphere encasing a crystalline core, now hovering faintly in the air. A relic from a forgotten war of ancient human civilization. A gift from his mother. One he had never understood.
It pulsed softly, emitting a gentle blue glow.
"What are you waiting for?" Arthur whispered bitterly. "It's over."
He stared toward the airlock. If he was going to die, he'd do it face to face.
The ship shuddered as enemy battleship docked. The slicing whine of plasma torches filled the corridor. They weren't here to negotiate. They never were.
The doors burst open. Three figures stepped inside, weapons raised. No insignia. No hesitation.
"Arthur Ragnar," one of them said. "By decree of House Ragnar, your bloodline ends here."
Arthur smiled. It wasn't brave—just tired.
"Took you long enough."
A flash.
A crack.
Then—
Darkness.
Silence.
But not for long.