Auros Wilde exhaled, steadying his racing pulse. The revelation of Bai Sha's identity as the Imperial Crown Heir had hit like a plasma blast, but he'd committed to this perilous venture. If he was to board this outlaw ship, he needed answers. "Fine," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Who exactly is our enemy?"
Bai Sha paused, her gaze drifting to the dark-haired youth beside her—Kaixin Greiz, his brow furrowed, his expression a storm of resignation. Kaixin closed his eyes, as if surrendering to fate, and spoke, his voice heavy: "Salmer Greiz. Our enemy is Salmer Greiz, the former Greiz Clan patriarch, missing for over eighteen years."
Auros's eyes narrowed. The name was infamous, a shadow cast long across Imperial history. He'd braced for shocks, but this one settled into his bones with grim familiarity. "If it's that Greiz," he said, his tone measured, "we'll need to tread carefully."
Bai Sha tilted her head. "Why's that?"
Auros leaned forward, his sapphire eyes glinting with calculation. "The Greiz-Ronin feud was the talk of Youdu Star—scandal, betrayal, all of it. Salmer's disappearance was a focal point. Your actions suggest he's alive, likely with a crew of loyalists." He paused, weighing his words. "Salmer vanished with his mech. If that machine's still with him, capturing him will be… challenging."
"Challenging how?" Bai Sha pressed.
"Salmer's mech is no ordinary rig," Auros said, a trace of awe in his voice. "It's a Legend-class mech."
In the Empire, mechs were ranked by honor grades: from Excellent to Legendary, each tier a leap in power and prestige. The chasm between Heritage-class and Legend-class was the widest—an abyss few crossed. Heritage-class mechs numbered in the thousands per century, but Legend-class? They were rare, mythic, machines that carved their names into history, revered as near-divine by the masses.
Kaixin's voice, muted with reluctant pride, filled the silence. "He's right. Salmer's mech, Seven Kills, is Legend-class. It shifts between humanoid and beast forms, each mode a pinnacle of its era. Forged from the hides of three king-beasts—Frostwind Amethyst Silkworm, Phantom Dawn Spider, and Desolate Black Blood Wolf—it's a marvel. At his peak, Salmer was undefeated. He named it Seven Kills to rival the Imperial fleet, Breaking Army."
"Undefeated?" Bai Sha asked, curiosity sparking. "Really?"
Kaixin's lips twitched, his tone diplomatic. "That was the legend from his West Continent Academy days. After he became patriarch, he faced the Ronins on Tianshu Star. The myth… didn't hold."
No one needed to say it: Salmer had fallen to Xipes Ronin, Bai Sha's kin. Yet, even in defeat, Salmer remained one of the Empire's mightiest mech pilots, a one-man army. A single Legend-class mech could tilt battles, its pilot a force of nature.
"With Salmer's age," Auros said, "he's still in an Aresian's prime. Mech duels aren't just about skill—they're about the machine. What about your mech, Your Highness? Where is it?"
Bai Sha sighed, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "I smuggled mine out before I left. The others have mechs too—just not Legend-class."
Auros nodded, relieved. "At least you've got a few. Better than I expected."
"To be precise," Bai Sha clarified, "we have four mech pilots: two with ready mechs, two in progress."
Auros's optimism faltered. "…" Forget he'd spoken.
"Our legion has mech pilots," he said, tapping the scarred wooden table. "About twenty, comparable to Federation frontline lieutenants. Other legions won't exceed that."
Bai Sha assessed the numbers, nodding. "We'll need recon to confirm Salmer's forces, then plan."
"Any scout recommendations?" she asked.
"I know a few specialists," Auros replied, and they dove into logistics, mapping out preparations with brisk efficiency.
Yan Jingyi, watching the exchange, stood. "I'll relieve Ya Ning downstairs, let him join."
Auros's gaze flicked to her, appraising. "Your combat skills?"
Bai Sha slung an arm around Jingyi, grinning. "Our ace."
Auros leaned in, lowering his voice. "Then act tough downstairs. Intimidate them—especially these legion leaders." He listed names, notorious troublemakers. "They're hard to control. Show them who's boss early. If they walk, don't stop them. This mission isn't about numbers—it's about precision."
Jingyi's eyebrow arched, her face hardening into a mask of icy disdain. She nodded and descended, her presence a blade cutting through the bar's haze.
Moments later, as Auros and Bai Sha hashed out details with Ya Ning's input, a commotion erupted below—a cacophony of shouts, then a bone-rattling crash. The table jolted, cups and bottles teetering. Bai Sha's arms shot out, steadying the chaos with a grunt. "What the—"
Ya Ning blinked. "A fight? That intense?"
"No weapons of mass destruction allowed," Bai Sha said, waving it off. "They know I'm the client—they won't kill her. Just… friendly sparring."
When their discussion wrapped, the din below had faded. Descending, they found the mercenaries—once scattered in wary cliques—now a raucous circle, cheering wildly. Jingyi stood at the center, her face a frozen scowl, yet mercenaries swarmed her, offering drinks and lavish praise. Some, bolder, called her "Big Sister," half-joking, half-awed, as if ready to swear fealty on the spot.
Ya Ning gaped. "They're bonding already?"
Auros pointed to the bar counter, where several bodies—those prickly leaders he'd warned of—lay stacked like cordwood, bruised and groaning. "They're enthusiastic because they don't want to get pummeled," he said, chuckling. "No one punches a smiling face."
Jingyi wasn't unscathed—faint scratches marred her cheeks, her shoulder's fabric torn—but she stood like a lioness among hyenas. The bar's atmosphere had thawed, the mercenaries' wariness giving way to camaraderie. They were sailors on a pirate ship, rum in hand, chasing a treasure map's promise. Bai Sha's generous coin and bold demeanor had won their favor, loosening tongues and egos.
Two hours later, the legions' scouts deployed to Xiao Yang Star, Salmer's suspected stronghold. They never returned.
"Xiao Yang Star issued a notice," Ya Ning reported, his voice tight. "Meteor showers disrupted their routes, so they sealed all ports." He shook his head. "Too convenient. Salmer likely detected our scouts and locked down the planet."
Salmer Greiz wasn't just a local warlord—he was Xiao Yang's puppet master.
"Wait," Ya Ning said, scanning data. "The sealed ports are civilian and commercial—no military ones listed."
"They're avoiding Federation scrutiny," Bai Sha mused, eyes narrowing. "Ning Hongxue serves the Silver Nexus, and Salmer was once its ally, but their goals don't align perfectly."
Ya Ning nodded. "The Federation's military is on edge—any irregularity could draw attention."
"But with the planet sealed, we're stuck," Ya Ning said, frustration creeping in. "No intel, just waiting. The legions had informants there, but their reports are sparse…"
A ping interrupted him—a comms request. Ya Ning's breath caught. "It's Holman."
Years ago, Instructor Holman had drilled Ya Ning and Jingyi on emergency protocols, honed by his own fugitive past. He'd foreseen chaos's unpredictability, and now, his foresight proved vital. Ya Ning steadied himself and accepted the call.
"Ya Ning?" Holman's voice rasped, strained. "Is that you?"
"For verification," Bai Sha interjected, leaning toward the comms with a grin, "what's the highest debt you racked up at the orphanage, Instructor? Down to the cent."
"You little brat!" Holman laughed, relief in his tone. "You're with them. Good—I was worried."
Ya Ning snorted. "You're relaxing too soon…"
He briefed Holman on their predicament: the mercenary coalition, Salmer's lockdown, the virus. Holman's disbelief crackled through. "You kids have guts. Escaped death once, now you're cooking up new trouble?"
"Thrilling, right?" Bai Sha teased.
"Thrilling?" Holman groaned. "You're sending me to an early grave."
A faint wheeze followed, then silence. Both sides paused, the weight of their choices settling.
"Ning Hongxue controls most of the Capital Star garrison, but some districts resist," Holman said abruptly. "Xiao Yang's military district is outside his reach. As a prosecutor, I can order the district commander to open its military port for an inspection. Military ports are normally sealed; the district can override Xiao Yang's authority. Given the civilian port closures, I've got grounds to investigate."
"We slip in as a prosecutor's ship," he continued, "catch them off guard."
The plan was sound, but the cost was steep. Holman's career—likely his freedom—would be forfeit. He'd face charges, perhaps prison.
Bai Sha hesitated, glancing at the nearly completed mechs behind her. Holman's voice cut through. "Don't dawdle. I'm done with this job anyway. Ning's purge is coming—I'll be targeted soon. If I don't act now, I can't help later."
Bai Sha rose, her jaw set. "Then we roll the dice."
Days later, Xiao Yang Star, 2:00 AM local time.
In the military port's control room, the security chief slouched, half-asleep, flanked by yawning soldiers. Why did prosecutors always pick ungodly hours for "surprise" visits? It reeked of performative diligence. The district had tipped him off, as had the prosecutor's office—everyone was in on the charade. A quick bribe, a few pleasantries, and the inspection would pass. He waved off his drowsiness, eyeing a bottle of crimson wine on the console, a rare vintage worth a fortune. His meager salary couldn't touch it, but Xiao Yang's elite—those who "earned"—shared their spoils.
The wine's ruby hue promised intoxication. "Where's the prosecutor's ship?" he barked.
"It's here, sir," a soldier replied. "Permissions verified, but… the ship's passcode isn't in our military registry."
"They confirmed it?"
"Yes."
"Passed the weapons scan?"
"…Yes."
"Then let them in!" The chief smacked the soldier's head. "They're Capital prosecutors—officers with private ships! You think they register every one? Idiot! Open the gate!"
In the void, the spaceship surged, its engines roaring, blue flames trailing from its thrusters. "Disable navigation beacon, engage secondary system, activate stealth," the pilot shouted, glancing at the mech pilots on the deck. "Stealth's on a timer—weapons scans will hit until we're inside, so we're punching it. Brace for a drop! Unlock the port's gate controls on landing, or our backup's stuck outside, and we're done!"
The pilots flashed thumbs-ups. "We've got this," Ya Ning said, grinning at Bai Sha. "Our pro's on it."
"Don't waste her," a mercenary bellowed, flushed with excitement. "She's a mech goddess—built us rigs like I've never piloted! I need more rides!"
Bai Sha raised an eyebrow at Ya Ning. Her mech-crafting wizardry had won the legions' adoration, rivaling Jingyi's brawling fame. They called her "Master Bai" now, half-reverent, half-obsessed.
"Fine, I'll handle the gate," Auros cut in, sweating. "Focus, people, or we're dead!"
"Yes, sir!" the pilots roared.
The ship streaked toward the port, a comet trailing fire, as the gate began to part.
On Xiao Yang, a soldier paled. "Sir, they're not slowing!"
The chief frowned. "Close the gate."
"Too late—" the soldier stammered.
Boom. Metal screamed as the ship fired a salvo of silver missiles, fanning out like petals, cracking the port's fortifications. Alarms blared, screens flashing red.
The chief's eyes hardened. "A few missiles won't breach us. Activate defenses—blast them with laser cannons."
The soldier complied, turrets rising. The ship, reckless, charged the armed gate, firing twin particle beams that clashed with the lasers in a deafening roar. Like a breaching whale, it slammed through the half-open gate, sparks erupting.
The control room shook, the chief clutching his hat and wine bottle, cursing. "How? They passed the weapons scan!"
"They hid the cannons in the hull," the soldier whispered, chilled. "Pirate tactics, sir. We need to report this—request backup!"
"Report what?" the chief snapped, dodging accountability. He stroked the bottle, feigning calm. "Pirates? They picked the wrong star. Xiao Yang's their grave."
The soldier froze, unnerved by the chief's confidence. The ship grazed the gate, sparks flying, its side hatch sliding open. Static crackled—the monitors went dark, their systems hacked.
The soldier covered his face, dreading what came next. The chief, unfazed, dialed a comms line. "Pirates breached the port," he said coolly. "Why they got past the lockdown? Hell if I know. Your mess, you clean it." He hung up, popped the wine's cork, and inhaled its raspberry tang. Sipping, he wiped his mouth and reclined on a folding cot, as if the invasion were a minor nuisance.
The soldier's mind raced, sweat beading. Glancing at the chief, he stealthily keyed a distress signal to their superiors. As his finger hovered over "send," a cold barrel pressed against his temple.
The chief's gaze was serpentine, lethal. "I said no backup. Don't play deaf, or you'll never hear again."
Inside the ship, Bai Sha steadied herself, the deck vibrating beneath her. Jingyi, in her mech's cockpit, flashed a grin. "Ready to dance, Master Bai?"
Kaixin, piloting a cobbled-together rig, muttered, "This better work."
"It will," Bai Sha said, her voice steel. She glanced at Auros, who nodded, gripping his controls. The hatch yawned open, Xiao Yang's port looming. Salmer awaited, his Seven Kills a specter of doom. But Bai Sha's gamble—Holman's sacrifice, the legions' greed, her team's grit—had brought them here.
"Drop!" the pilot roared.
The mechs launched, plummeting into the fray, as Xiao Yang's defenses roared to life.
In the Capital Star, Zhou Ying decrypted Bai Sha's signal: We're in. Zhou Wei, pale but resolute, stood. "Time to move."
On Youdu Star, Emperor Cecil read her final message: It ends tonight. The Nexus loomed, but Bai Sha's defiance burned—a beacon against the dark, daring to slay a legend or die trying.