The planet was in chaos.
Princess Kyknos had outplayed them all — and in her vengeance, she had brought war to her own sister's doorstep, igniting a full-scale planetary conflict. Her impatience had cost her; she refused to wait for Thraq.
When he finally arrived, it was not alone. At his side came the returning Paragon Imperial Elites—and SkyRaider himself.
Thraq wasted no time, ramming his ship straight into the fight. His attacks were wild, reckless… and effective. This Stormveil couldn't match his brutality.
A blinding volley tore through its hull.
"Abandon ship!" Thraq roared.
SkyRaider flung open the rear hatch and dove, his jet boosters flaring to slow his fall. Two more Crusaders tumbled out just in time, hitting the ground moments before the Stormveil spiraled into the city in a plume of fire.
They regrouped quickly, standing shoulder to shoulder as Thraq landed before them, guards clashing all around. Paragon soldiers and Zen-barian warriors tangled in brutal street combat, blaster fire cutting the smoky air.
Thraq stepped forward with a slow, deliberate stride, a predator's grin on his face.
"I commend your clever heroism," he said. "But this… is where it ends."
From the flanks, Talbein and Arthur emerged, circling in until Thraq was boxed in on all sides.
"SkyRaider," Arthur said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Go. Rescue the Empress. We'll finish what we started here."
SkyRaider gave a sharp nod—then the battle began.
Paragon Empire
High above the burning skyline, the Empress and Princess traded blow after blow in a furious aerial duel.
But only one could keep pace.
The princess had been studying her sister's every move since the day her claim to the throne was denied. She struck with surgical cruelty—every kick, every feint, a reminder of her vendetta.
A knee slammed into La'sylix's abdomen.
Then another.
And another.
By the fifth strike, her breath was gone, her vision dimming. She dropped from the sky—only to be caught mid-fall by SkyRaider.
He descended in controlled bursts of his boosters, cradling the Empress's slender frame before setting her gently on solid ground.
"Huh…?" she gasped, clutching her stomach, pain etched across her face. She looked up at him—his back already turned, eyes locked on the princess above.
"Oh, please—spare me the theatrics," Cal'Rae scoffed from the air, her voice dripping with disdain. "How dramatic of you."
SkyRaider tilted his head. "Let's dance, princess."
His boosters roared, hurling him upward in a blur.
Before Cal'Rae could process the movement, SkyRaider's fist connected—a clean, precise right hook that snapped her head to the side.
The shockwave from the impact rang out across the battlefield.
Dazed, the princess tumbled through the air and smashed into a towering metallic pillar, its surface denting under the force.
Meanwhile…
The Crusaders were in their own firefight.
The remnants of Thraq's fleet were now under the command of his fleet captain—a man who had been a follower of Tommy Daystar ever since their first encounter with the Crusaders.
"Let's see how you escape this, Tommy!" the captain's voice crackled over comms.
The enemy ships shifted formation, uniting in perfect synchronization.
Then… they began to change.
Hull plating split and folded. Engines merged into glowing cores. In seconds, the entire fleet had become something far more terrifying—a single colossal Stormveil, bristling with sentience.
Gunz's jaw dropped. "What in the Seven Sisters is that?! Since when do they make sentient Stormveils?!"
"Gunz, hold your fire!" Tommy barked, stepping into the co-pilot's seat. "If we play this right, we might live."
"Hold my fire?!" Gunz exploded. "In about ten seconds there's not gonna be anything left to hold onto! You know why? Because we'll be vaporized! Reduced to stardust! Charred to ash!"
Tommy exhaled slowly, turning to meet Monette's sharp blue eyes.
"Hey. Two strategies," he said evenly. "One—you use your abilities only as a last resort. I know what you're capable of, and I trust you. Two—you follow my lead the moment Rorr'sek attacks. Got it?"
She nodded without hesitation.
"Gunz," Tommy continued, "let me talk to him. I can get us through this. He's here for me—he wants me dead."
Tommy flicked the intercom switch.
"Rorr'sek," he said, his tone almost casual, "I don't know what you're trying to prove—but if I had to guess, I'd pick the obvious answer: your credentials don't hold a flickering star to mine."
A pause.
"You don't just want to defeat me." His voice dropped to a razor's edge. "You want to be me."
"It seems being an Imperial Elite has stripped you of your humility," Rorr'sek snarled. "Since our days as rookie cadets, you've always been in my shadow, Tommy! Even when we ran with Black Flag, I outperformed you at every turn. What makes you think I'd ever want to stand in your boots?"
His tone had turned sharp, aggressive—exactly what Tommy wanted.
"Empress La'sylix wanted me as the empire's sole bounty hunter," Tommy said, voice steady. "When the Paragon Imperial Elites were formed, they sought me out first. That's what burns you, brother. It eats you alive knowing they see me as the greater threat."
He leaned forward slightly, letting each word slice deeper.
"You were flashy, sure—you drew crowds, caught eyes. But in the end? The empire didn't want a brash, arrogant boy. They wanted someone who could finish the job alone. Someone with precision. Someone with my skill set. The opposite of you."
Rorr'sek let out a cold laugh at the idea of Tommy's superiority.
"Let's get real, Tommy—you've never had me beat. You had to lean on the Starship Crusaders just to stay alive. You've been coddled since the day we were Interstellar cadets."
Tommy's gaze swept the massive, unified fleet before him. Then he smirked.
"Are you really in a position to talk?"
The silence that followed was short—but heavy. In that single moment, Tommy's words cut through years of rivalry and pride, splintering whatever remained of their brotherhood.
Tommy's hands tightened on the console.
"Gunz, hold on! Do not fire—he'll self-destruct!"
For once, Gunz actually listened.
"Hard right! Three-sixty—now!"
Monette jerked the controls, whipping the Ascender into a spiraling maneuver that skimmed the enemy's firing range by meters. Twice, the hybrid vessel's cannons locked on, and twice their shots missed—slamming instead into a nearby Stormveil.
The impact ricocheted, tearing through several other Stormveils bound into the hybrid's frame.
Across the comms, Rorr'sek's grunt of frustration was unmistakable.
He retaliated, unleashing a relentless wall of fire at full strength.
"Surround them," Tommy ordered.
Monette shoved the throttle forward, forcing the Ascender into overdrive. The starship cut a wide, dizzying circle around the hybrid. The goal wasn't destruction—yet. The goal was delay.
And with Rorr'sek seething at the helm, Tommy knew they could drag this out.
Ten minutes later, the gamble paid off. One by one, every Stormveil in the hybrid locked into cooldown mode.
That was Monette's cue.
She focused, her hands glowing as she amplified her energy reserves to maximum. The release was blinding—an expanding surge of power that ripped through the fleet in a single, devastating pulse.
The hybrid—and everything tied to it—erupted.
"Ha! I'll be damned!" Gunz barked, grinning despite himself. "That's one hell of a mind you've got, Tommy!"
Tommy only smirked, the rare note of approval from Gunz landing exactly where he wanted. Monette tousled his hair, then wrapped him in a quick hug as the burning wreckage lit the void around them like a chain of detonating stars.
The celebration was short-lived.
"Guys! Get out of there—now!" SkyRaider's voice crackled over the comm, ragged with urgency. "I'll catch up later—they're coming!"
The crew froze, exchanging uneasy glances. The joy in the cabin evaporated.
Without another word, Gunz engaged the cloaking systems. The Ascender faded from sight.
Then the light dimmed—swallowed by the shadow of something massive.
A mothership, larger than anything in the sector, drifted silently past them, its bulk blotting out the stars.
Prireem
SkyRaider, Talbein, and Arthur knelt in the dirt, chests heaving, their arms bound tight behind them. Every muscle burned from the brutal fight and the overwhelming surge of enemy reinforcements.
Their weapons were gone. Above them, Thraq and Cal'Rae stood like victors carved from stone, their shadows stretching long in the fading light.
Their plan had worked—every move calculated to corner the Crusaders and break their resistance.
From above, the colossal mothership descended, blotting out the sun. The ground trembled under its approach, the wind from its thrusters whipping dust and ash into the air. This was no rescue—it was a harvest. The prisoners they'd fought to avoid becoming were about to be claimed.
"Well," the princess drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I must take my leave, my friends."
With a flick of her wrist, La'sylix was shoved forward, falling unceremoniously beside the battered Crusaders who had risked everything to save her.
"Boys—" the Empress managed between ragged breaths.
"Princess," they replied in unison, their tone flat, their morale crushed.
The reality was settling in—La'sylix was facing demotion. Her crown, her empire, her very name… about to be stripped away.
Thraq lingered only long enough to see the one he'd been waiting for descend from the mothership. He offered them a parting grin.
"Choose as your heart desires," he said, gaze flicking to the bound Crusaders before he turned and strode away.
"Oh… you must be joking," La'sylix muttered—her voice tight with a mix of disbelief and dread.
"What? What is it, Princess?" SkyRaider asked, scanning the area.
Then he saw her.
From the mothership's ramp stepped a purple-skinned woman in exquisitely wrought armor, the metal shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. She moved with the confidence of someone who had never known defeat. Her black hair caught the wind as she brushed a few strands behind her pointed ears.
La'sylix glared, venom in her voice.
"It's Bellenova… an incessant nuisance." She raised her voice so there was no mistaking it. "What do you want, hmm?"
"The usual—Bashrock Mountain is in need of fresh fighters, and you, my dear La'sylix, would make a fine addition to the roster. Oh? And what do we have here?"
Her attention slid toward SkyRaider, eyes narrowing as she sized him up, clearly intrigued by his rugged, defiant stance. "At the very least, allow me to buy you dinner first, darling."
SkyRaider answered her flirtation with an icy glare, but she ignored it, tilting his chin up with a single finger. "Oh my… what a specimen. I'll take both of you. Welcome to the Tournament of Bashrock Mountain."
Without another word, she turned on her heel, and the Paragon guards moved in, seizing SkyRaider and La'sylix before ushering them toward the ship—leaving the rest of the crew stranded on Prireem.
La'sylix's voice cut through the air as she was escorted away. "And you question why I excluded your kind from the arrangement! I knew the Zen-barians were plotting something, yet I chose mercy! I should have exiled them as well!" She shot the words at Bellenova like knives before disappearing into the ship.