The stars of Vandor receded into the distance, swallowed by the black velvet of space. Kaleo's ship drifted past shattered trade stations and broken satellites, their lights flickering like dying embers. The Ring of Halburn hummed faintly on his finger, a silent reminder of the world he left behind.
[Core Update: Navigation Matrix — Optimal Route Calculated. Threat Scan — Active.]
Asteroid debris spun lazily across his path. He adjusted the thrusters with precise motions, every movement a blend of instinct and the half-awakened resonance of the Aether Core.
"Even out here," he muttered, "divinity isn't enough."
A sudden flash of movement caught his eye. Dozens of old war drones, relics of forgotten conflicts, surged toward him.
[Edict of Balance Progress: +3% — Survival without unnecessary destruction.]
Kaleo's blade, now fused and glimmering faintly from residual Core energy, slid from its sheath. He didn't have time for hesitation. The drones' lasers met him midair as he jumped, rolling along the narrow corridor of a collapsed station. Sparks flew; metal screeched.
With a swift spin, he cleaved through the nearest drone, Core energy humming in the fractures of his sword. Each strike left his body aching, but he felt… alive. For the first time since leaving Vandor, survival wasn't enough; he craved the fight.