The moment Mali's splintered, calloused hand grasped Anya's gloved one, his System chimed, the sound clear in his mind.
[QUEST COMPLETE] > Solidify the Cygnus Pact > Objective (2/2): Accept her as your ally. [COMPLETE] > REWARD: +500 XP. +1 LEGACY INTEGRATION. [LEGACY INTEGRATION: 3%] [|||-----------------]
It meant nothing to him. A number in a game. The hand in his, however, was real. It was warm, firm, and a stable point in a universe that was trying to tear him apart.
Anya held his grip for a second longer than necessary, a silent, binding contract. Then she let go and turned, facing the entire, stunned command deck. She was no longer the curious girl; she was the Princess of the Cygnus Ascendancy.
"Ambassador Vael," she said, her voice sharp as diamond. "Your concerns for my safety are noted, as is your... diplomatic assessment. You are dismissed. Return to our delegation ship and await my signal."
The older woman's face went pale with indignation. "Your Highness, I cannot—"
"You can," Anya cut her off, her voice dropping an octave, "and you will. That is an order, Ambassador."
Ambassador Vael looked as if she'd been slapped. She saw the set of her princess's jaw, saw the immovable stance, and knew she had lost. With a stiff, furious bow, she turned and stalked out of the command deck, her silver-visored guards moving like shadows behind her.
The tension ratcheted down by half.
Anya then turned her gaze to General Kaelen. "General. An impressive retrieval. But now, the Prince and I require a secure, private location. My System is... active... and I do not appreciate having my strategic assessments broadcast to your entire bridge crew."
Mali flinched. Her System?
Kaelen nodded, a flicker of what might have been respect in his gray eyes. He recognized a fellow commander. "This way, Your Highnesses."
He gestured not to the transport tube, but to a massive, ornate door that Mali hadn't even noticed. It slid open silently, revealing a plush, carpeted corridor. The two of them, flanked by Kaelen and four Scion Guards, began to walk.
The walk was an exercise in silent terror. The ship was a monument to wealth and power. The walls were not metal, but some kind of polished, cream-colored stone inlaid with pulsing gold light. Every crew member they passed snapped to attention, fist to chest, head bowed.
Mali flinched at every single one. He tried to make himself smaller, to hide behind Anya's shadow.
[DEBUFF: Imposter Syndrome - STACKS (x2)]
He was a fraud. He was a fraud. This was all a mistake.
They arrived at a set of towering, golden doors. Kaelen placed his hand on a scanner.
"The Prince's Quarters, Your Highness," Kaelen said. "It has been prepared since your... departure."
The doors hissed open.
Mali's one-room hut on Toten could have fit into the closet.
The "room" was a sprawling, two-story apartment, larger than his entire village market. A wall of glass looked out on the terrifying majesty of the fleet. The furniture was all sharp angles, black stone, and gold metal, beautiful and impossibly cold. It wasn't a home. It was a museum. A cage.
"We will be stationed outside," Kaelen announced, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "No one enters without my authorization or the Prince's."
Anya dismissed her own guards with a silent nod. The massive doors slid shut, sealing them inside.
The silence that fell was absolute. It was just Mali and Anya, alone in the gilded prison.
The adrenaline that had been holding Mali together, the shock and the fear, all of it came crashing down. His knees gave out. He stumbled to the nearest wall—the cold, stone one—and slid down it until he was sitting on the floor, a small, pathetic heap in the middle of a palace.
He put his head in his hands, his whole body shaking.
"I can't," he whispered, the words muffled by his palms. "I can't do this. You're wrong. You're all wrong. I'm... I'm just Mali. I carry boxes. I'm nothing."
He was unraveling, the last threads of his sanity snapping.
Anya did not speak. He heard the faint, measured footsteps of her boots on the stone floor. He tensed, expecting her to call the guards, to tell them the experiment was over.
Instead, she did something he never would have predicted.
She crouched.
She lowered herself with perfect, regal grace, bringing herself down to his level. She was a princess, but she was looking him in the eye, not down her nose.
"You're right," she said, her voice soft.
Mali looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and confused. "What?"
"You can't do this," she said simply. "Not as 'Mali, the box-carrier.' He's not built for this. He's not meant for this." She nodded at his hand. "That life was real. It's your foundation. But it's not the whole truth."
"You don't understand. I have this... this thing... in my head. It's a game!" he finally burst out, jabbing a finger at the holographic STATUS window only he could see. "It's telling me I have 'DEBUFFS' and 'XP'! It's insane! I'm insane!"
Anya's eyes widened, but not with fear. With recognition.
"A 'game'?" she breathed. "A hard-light interface? Quests? Stats?"
"How do you know that?" Mali whispered, recoiling.
"Because I have one, too," Anya said. "All High-Karma bloodlines do. The Legacy System." She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, her pupils were laced with faint, glowing silver threads.
"My interface is a 'tapestry.' I see the threads of allegiance, of power. And when I look at you..." Her breath hitched. "When I look at you, Mali Alkahest, I don't see threads. I see a hole in the tapestry. A gravitational well that is pulling everything into it. My System is screaming at me that your Potential is an infinity sign."
She blinked, the silver light fading. "The House of Alkahest," she said, her voice full of awe. "The Universal Solvent. That's why you felt nothing on Toten. But the girl you touched, the one with all that power... did you not feel the difference? That's why she felt relief. You weren't empty, Mali. You were dissolving her surplus karma just by being near her. You're not a void. You're a consumer."
She finally understood. "You're not an imposter. You're a nuclear bomb that's been told its entire life that it's a firecracker. Of course you're terrified."
Mali stared at her, his mind reeling. A consumer... a solvent...
Anya stood up, her entire demeanor shifting from empathetic to practical. She was the Strategist again.
"Okay. Here is the reality. You are right, you are not ready. Your POW is astronomical, but your CTL is at 2. We are going to fix it."
A soft, melodic chime echoed through the vast apartment.
General Kaelen's voice, sterile and metallic, came from a hidden speaker. "Your Highnesses, I trust your introductory meeting was... sufficient."
Anya gave a small smirk. "It was, General. What is it?"
"The Imperial schedule is now active. Your Highness," he said, addressing Mali, "your first basic control training session is scheduled for 0600 tomorrow. Your fitting for your formal uniform is at 0730. And your first Royal Council meeting, to formally ratify the alliance, is at 0800."
The speaker clicked off.
Mali's blood ran cold. Tomorrow? A council meeting? He looked up at Anya, his panic returning full-force, a silent scream. He couldn't do that. He couldn't even stand up.
Anya saw the terror in his eyes. She saw him fracturing again. Her 'Strategist' expression melted away, replaced by something warm and resolute. He didn't need a teacher right now. He needed an anchor.
She walked over to him, stopping directly in front of where he sat, still huddled against the wall. She offered him a hand. He took it, and she easily pulled him to his feet.
He stood before her, shaking, a lost boy in a prince's apartment.
"Breathe, Mali," she said softly.
He tried, but his breath hitched. "Anya, I can't. A council. I... I'll destroy everything. They'll... they'll know."
"I know," she said. She placed her hand lightly on his cheek. Her glove was off now; her skin was warm. "And you're right. You can't do it alone."
And then, before his System could even flash a warning, she leaned in.
She kissed him.
It wasn't a kiss of passion, or of romance. It was a kiss that was soft, deliberate, and final. It was the press of her lips against his, a simple, irrefutable statement of fact. It lasted only a second, but it silenced the screaming in his head.
Mali froze, his eyes wide, his entire being focused on that single, impossible point of contact.
Anya pulled back, but only an inch. Her green eyes were steady on his, holding him, grounding him. She whispered, her voice a fierce, unbreakable promise.
"I am your wife, and you are my husband. You'll be fine. And I'll make sure of it."