Kael awoke to the dull hum of static and the acidic sting of blood dried on his cheek.
The world was blurry at first, his limbs slow to respond, pain echoing through every joint like shattered glass. As his vision cleared, he realized he wasn't in the cockpit anymore—he was lying on a makeshift bed in the corner of the cave. The roof above was damp. The smell of burnt coolant and iron still lingered in the air.
He turned his head slowly…
And saw what remained of Ravager Mk III.
Half its plating was stripped away. The right arm was missing. The power core was fried beyond repair, blackened cables twisted like dead veins, and its iconic spine-mounted booster had melted into slag. Its once-battle-worn frame—his last companion in this cursed galaxy—was now scrap metal leaning against the cave wall.
His breath caught.
His eyes widened in absolute horror.
He shot up, nearly collapsing again, but forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward the wreckage.
"No…" he muttered. "No. No. NO."
His hands trembled as he placed them on the battered torso of the mech. He tried to trace the engraved mark he'd made long ago—Unit 404's emblem, hand-etched behind the pilot hatch.
Gone.
All of it.
Gone.
---
Voices behind him stirred.
"Kael, you're awake," Oris called cautiously.
But Kael didn't respond.
Not when Tyren approached.
Not when Lisette tried to offer him water.
And certainly not when he saw the newcomers—the ones in different gear, the ones with insignias that pulled him into nightmares. His gaze zeroed in on the girl with familiar eyes. Vireya.
The one who tore him down with a smile.
Oris stepped forward. "Kael, they're here to help. They made it through hell to find us. We have a real shot now. We can go back."
Kael didn't blink. His voice was flat.
"Which battleship?"
There was a pause.
Vireya answered, her voice low. "Sovereign Dawn."
Something shattered in Kael's chest.
He turned his back. Walked away.
Then sat down in the farthest corner of the cave. Silent. Cold. Rage flickering behind his eyes.
---
Tyren crouched beside him. "Kael, listen, we can rebuild. We—"
"Don't," Kael said. His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Don't try to fix this."
Freya stepped forward. "But you can't just rot here—"
"I won't go back there," he snapped, eyes blazing. "Not with them."
"But—"
"I'd rather die on this goddamn planet than serve the people who threw me to the wolves!"
The cave was silent.
Kael then picked up a jagged shard of metal from the floor and began scratching something onto the cave wall. Each stroke was careful, deliberate. Tyren and Oris watched as the lines began to form a rough sketch of Ravager Mk III.
It wasn't just a mecha.
It was a memory.
It was pain, and pride, and betrayal fused into iron.
By the time he was done, his fingers were bleeding, and his eyes were moist. But he kept scratching more onto the stone. A quote. A name. Symbols. All of it drawn in silence.
---
Lisette tried to approach. "Kael, you can't—"
He turned, fists clenched. "Don't touch me."
She took a step back, confused and hurt.
When Vireya tried to step forward, Kael exploded.
His fist landed squarely into the side of a young soldier's helmet—not Vireya, but one of her team. Another tried to restrain him, and he knocked him to the ground with a sharp elbow to the throat. He wasn't aiming to kill—just to make it clear.
He wasn't going.
Not with them.
Not to that ship.
Not back into the hell he barely escaped.
---
It took Oris and Tyren both to hold him back—barely.
"Stop! Kael—just stop!" Oris yelled. "You're not alone anymore!"
"I've always been alone!" Kael roared. "Since the day they betrayed me! Since the day they stripped my name, my badge, and my voice!"
He broke free and collapsed at the base of the wall.
He didn't cry.
He didn't scream.
He just sat there, fists clenched so hard his knuckles split open, staring at the jagged drawing of Ravager as though it were a grave.
---
Everyone stood still.
No one dared speak.
Because this wasn't just anger.
This was a man who had nothing left—
...except the memory of what was stolen from him.