The Scientific Research Area was a world apart from the bustling factories and shipyards of the Empire. Here, light itself seemed to bend into order rows of white corridors pulsing with quiet energy, laboratories filled with the faint hum of generators and the whisper of artificial winds that kept air and temperature perfect.
At its center sat Lupar Mur, Head Scientist of the Golden Lion Empire. His hair, streaked with silver, fell neatly to his shoulders, and his coat white with gold trim marked him as one of the Empire's most brilliant minds.
A single pulse from his wrist interrupted the silence. The data bracelet on his arm glowed once, awaiting his command.
He lifted his hand. The hologram blossomed outward, light spiraling into streams of text, images, and recordings. His sharp eyes immediately recognized the signature.
Faria Aquirox.
The child prodigy. He had followed her from afar, impressed by her mind's refusal to settle for boundaries. And now she had sent him something unprecedented.
A smile touched his lips as he scrolled through the first portions of her report. Fifty galaxies mapped. Stealth probes threading the void. Her inventions had accomplished what senior scientists had failed to do for decades.
Then the recordings shifted.
The fifty-first galaxy.
Static. Then two crimson eyes blazing in the dark, unaccompanied by form. Lupar leaned forward. His fingers tapped, replaying the last seconds of the probe's destruction. Red eyes widened, then narrowed, and in a blink the machine was gone.
A wolf. Hidden, unseen, annihilating technology designed to withstand stars.
Lupar's brow furrowed. So the Wolves conceal their true guardians… eyes in the dark, watching even when we think ourselves unseen.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to continue. Another recording appeared.
This time, his breath caught.
It was not a Wolf.
The figure stood tall, orange fur catching faint light, his posture impeccable with hands clasped behind his back. He wore a grey imperial uniform, the cut immaculate, its presence as commanding as a crown. Yet it was his eyes deep, glowing purple that transfixed Lupar. They gazed into the probe not with curiosity, but with disdain, as if swatting an insect.
And then, with a single gesture of his hand, the probe folded in on itself.
Lupar froze the recording. He magnified the uniform. Its design was alien, yet deliberate—rank insignia at the shoulders, lines of discipline across the chest. This was not a rogue Esper. This was military. Organized. Imperial.
The scientist's chest tightened with the weight of realization. If the Wolves are the largest power we know, then who do the Foxes serve? Or worse do they rule themselves, hidden until now?
For the first time in many years, Lupar felt something rare unease.
He closed his eyes briefly, then reopened them with newfound focus. "Faria, you've done well," he whispered. "But this… this changes everything."
His fingers moved rapidly, summoning equations, projecting models of hyperspace travel, suppression fields, and locked-space barriers. Variables collided and unraveled, strings of numbers folding into each other across the holographic displays.
Hyperspace… the lifeblood of travel. Every empire guards it, locks it, anchors it. Wolves and Foxes alike surely bar their space against outsiders. No matter how advanced our engines, no matter how efficient our routes… their locks cannot be broken by brute force.
His hands tightened into fists. "But what if… it doesn't need to be broken?"
The idea slid into his mind like a blade into silk.
A Penetration Teleportation System.
Not a battering ram, not a desperate push. A scalpel. A needle. A weapon that did not struggle against the walls of space but slipped between them. An engine capable of threading through locks and appearing deep inside enemy territory.
He magnified the models, watching as simulated fleets materialized within enemy strongholds, bypassing walls, barriers, and defenses. Fortresses that once stood eternal fell in moments. Panic spread as sanctuaries became prisons.
Lupar's smile returned cold, sharp, predatory.
"Yes," he whispered. "This is how the wolves fall. Not by fire, but by silence. Not by battle, but by fear."
"Teacher?"
The voice cut through his thoughts.
Lupar glanced up. Standing by the door was Asto, his young disciple. The boy clutched a tablet of schematics to his chest, his face pale as he studied his mentor's expression.
"Teacher… you're smiling." Asto's voice trembled slightly. "Smiling in a way that… frightens me."
Lupar chuckled softly, turning back to his projections. "Is that so?"
"Yes. It's… different." Asto hesitated. "What did you see in the report?"
Lupar tapped the console. The hologram replayed the Fox Esper's final gesture, the probe folding into itself under invisible force. The boy flinched.
"A predator," Lupar said softly. "One who can kill with thought alone. One who wears the uniform of an empire we do not yet know. And wolves with unseen eyes, annihilating technology with but a glance. Tell me, Asto should we wait for them to come for us, or should we learn to haunt them first?"
Asto shivered. The answer was obvious, yet terrifying. "But… to haunt them like that… what are we becoming?"
Lupar's eyes glowed with cold fire as he turned toward his pupil. "Survivors. And survivors, my boy, are always monsters in someone else's story."