The med-bay was dim again. The flickering light above Kael's bed had finally stopped its erratic buzz, as if the room itself was holding its breath.
He sat up now, no longer restrained.
Wounds still healing.
But the rage? That would never heal.
That rage was stitched into his soul now, cold and unwavering.
Kael stared long at the half-rebuilt Ravager Mk III schematic on the holo-screen beside him. His fingers moved gently through the interface, rotating parts, analyzing every change Ryssa's engineers had made. Some were impressive. Others… unnecessary.
War machines didn't need elegance. Only effectiveness.
There was a quiet knock on the door.
Then Ryssa walked in—again in her crimson jacket, hair pulled back in a high tie, an air of confidence clinging to her like armor. She didn't speak immediately, simply studied Kael as if trying to read a foreign language written in blood.
Kael didn't look at her when he spoke.
"Let's make it official," he said flatly.
She blinked, just once. "You're accepting the offer?"
"I have conditions."
Ryssa smirked. "Of course you do."
Kael's tone was grave. "I don't follow anyone's command. Not anymore. I'll work alongside you, not under you."
"That's fair."
"I choose the missions. No orders. No strings. I fight where I want, when I want, and for what I care about."
Ryssa leaned back against the console, arms folding as her smirk widened.
"And?"
Kael's voice hardened.
"I want Tyren."
That caught her off-guard for the first time. Her brow twitched.
"You mean as part of your unit?"
"I mean wherever I go, he comes too. We fight together. We rise together. Or not at all."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Ryssa studied his face. His tone wasn't a suggestion. It was law.
"…You're loyal," she said quietly. "Even after everything."
Kael didn't reply. But his eyes burned.
"I'll make the call," she said. "He'll be here in ten."
---
Exactly twelve minutes later, Tyren walked into the room, wearing a borrowed standard-issue uniform two sizes too large. He looked tired—physically and mentally—but the fire hadn't left his expression.
He froze when he saw Kael sitting upright.
And then his gaze shifted—to Ryssa.
"What's this?" Tyren asked, suspicious as ever.
Ryssa didn't answer. She just nodded toward Kael.
Kael met his gaze head-on.
"I'm leaving this hellhole," Kael said calmly. "But not without you."
Tyren's eyes narrowed. "Where?"
"With her unit. But I've set my terms. We operate on our own. Independent. No chain of command."
Tyren's mouth opened, but he didn't speak. His expression cycled from disbelief to relief to cautious rage.
"And Oris?"
Kael shook his head slowly. "Let him stay. He made his choice."
That hit like a hammer.
Tyren stepped forward. "You really mean that?"
Kael's voice dropped. "He watched me bleed. Watched them nearly kill me. Didn't stop it. Didn't fight for us."
Tyren clenched his fists, emotions warring behind his eyes.
"But you…" Kael said, finally breaking eye contact, "...you believed me. You tried. You were thrown down beside me. That means something."
For a second, Tyren was quiet. Then he gave the smallest nod.
"You better not be joking," he muttered, eyes misty but fierce. "Because if you're serious… then I'm with you. Until death."
Ryssa smiled faintly behind them.
The storm had chosen loyalty over revenge.
---
The decision traveled faster than any Kaiju strike ever had.
By the time Tyren left the med-bay, the entire battleship was whispering about it.
"Kael accepted Ryssa's offer."
"He's forming an independent combat unit."
"They're rebuilding Ravager."
"He demanded Tyren as part of the deal."
And Oris? He stood frozen outside his old lab when he heard the news. The techs beside him went silent, watching for his reaction.
But Oris didn't speak.
His fingers dug into the steel shelf. And his jaw locked.
He wasn't angry at Kael.
He was angry at himself—because deep down, he knew Kael had the right to walk away. To refuse him. And yet… it still stung.
---
Vireya was in the observation bay when the report came through her comm device.
She dropped the datapad in her hand, mouth slightly parted.
Lisette, Freya, and Kira were nearby. They too had been reading the same message.
The air between them turned heavy—thicker than any battlefield fog.
Lisette spoke first, her voice shaky.
"He… accepted?"
Freya's eyes flickered with guilt. "And he asked for Tyren, not Oris…"
Kira didn't say a word. Her chest was tight. Painful.
They had watched Kael get dragged to death's edge.
They had sat back.
They had doubted.
And now… they had been left behind.
---
In a dim corridor, Ryssa walked silently beside Kael and Tyren as they left the med-bay. Kael wore a black recovery suit. His hair was a mess. Bandages still wrapped his ribs. He looked like hell—but walked with the poise of a king returning to his warhorse.
At the hangar entrance, a single bay had been cleared.
Inside stood a towering, partially restored Ravager Mk III, gleaming under heavy lights. Thick armor plating. No sleek finish. All raw muscle and silent menace.
Kael stopped in front of it. And for a long while, he said nothing.
Then finally…
"I'm not doing this for you, Ryssa."
"I know."
"Not for revenge either."
"I know."
Kael placed his hand on Ravager's chest plate, feeling the cold steel under his fingers.
"I'm doing this… because I want to burn away everything fake in this galaxy."
Ryssa smiled.
"Then I'll light the fuse."