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Chapter Text

Anurak left a cold laugh leaving his lips.

His father could go rot in hell.

Him, his grandfather, his uncles, and his damn stepfather.

They could all be swallowed by the black hole of Sagittarius-A. He didn't care. 

Anurak furrowed his brow at the holographic interface before him, the bluish glow of data projected onto his nacreous skin like a cold caress. Numbers, trajectories, and 3D diagrams reflected off his thin glasses, lending him an almost scholarly air.

“Young master, your cortisol levels are dangerously high. Please calm down.”

“Not now, Kira, I’m recalculating.”

“Young master, I'm programmed to intervene whenever your cognitive functions are impaired by emotion. Your calculations are currently flawed. You are two million light-years from the Andromeda galaxy and thus from Elyon Prime. You are dangerously approaching the local Oort cloud. It would be prudent to recalibrate your trajectory… unless hiding in the Milky Way's Oort cloud is your goal ?"

Anurak rolled his eyes internally at the AI’s sarcastic remark. His fingers traced the central neural console of the ship, sending impulses that manipulated the holographic projections before him. His golden pupils followed new information appearing and disappearing at superhuman speed, giving him an almost inhuman appearance.

A warning beep drew a weary sigh from him.

“Young master, you have an incoming call from your father. Should I answer, put him on hold, or respond on your behalf?”

“Kira.”

“Yes, young master?”

Anurak slumped into his biomimetic seat, letting it mold to his exhausted back. He let the cushions bear his full weight. A throbbing pain pulsed behind his eyelids while another crept across his forehead. His pale fingers brushed the rim of his glasses, removing them to rub his tired eyes.

He opened his golden eyes to the lights of the starship he was traveling in alone, the quantum core thrumming beneath his feet.

How long had it been since he slept?

How long since he’d eaten a real meal?

How long had he survived on synthetic nutrients and nootropics, just to stay awake and alert?

How long…?

Anurak felt drained.

“How long has it been since I slept?” he asked his AI.

“Six Earth days, young master.”

Six days.

Six days since he had slammed the door on his father’s office. Six days since he told all of Elyon Prime to go to hell. Six days of incessant calls from his father. The galactic government was searching for him. He didn’t care. He had been drifting through the Milky Way for a long time, thinking another galaxy would keep him far enough from his father.

He was probably being hunted. An astronomical bounty on his head. Anurak hadn’t dared enter cyberspace, fearing his father could detect even the smallest intrusion of his mind into the cosmic web.

He inhaled deeply, letting his eyes graze one of the surrounding holograms. The alarm hadn’t stopped, yet his mind still raced at a hundred thousand revolutions per minute.

Starlight filtered through a wide viewport, casting blue and silver reflections across his weary features. Suddenly, a transmission from cyberspace appeared on his main screen. Simultaneously, the incoming call signal became more insistent. Anurak furrowed his brow, recognizing the priority alert. The main screen lit up with a name in cursive letters: Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul. His father and supreme commander of the Imperial Armed Forces.

The man he had been relentlessly fleeing for six Earth days.

The young man made a decision he dreaded as much as he had longed for.

He accepted his father’s call.

A press on the neural console, and the main screen glowed with a white and golden halo.

A man appeared on the screen, impeccable in his blood-red military uniform. Yet his face betrayed an unusual tension, a slight crease forming between thick brows. The image was sharp, high-resolution, despite the distance separating them.

Anurak could have smiled if he dared. The technology his father used to contact him was state-of-the-art military grade. He couldn’t believe his father had deployed the Imperial Army to hunt him.

His father’s golden gaze shone with restrained coldness, his hair pulled back, only a few strands falling on either side of his forehead. The high-ranking military uniform hugged his broad, rigid shoulders perfectly. Every decoration and insignia reflected his power and authority. His sharp golden eyes bore into Anurak with a newfound intensity, as if he could read his mind. Perhaps he could; the young man suspected the neural chip implanted in his spine had that functionality, despite Kira insisting otherwise.

“Anurak Thanurak Theerapanyakul…”

His father’s voice resonated through the cockpit, vibrant and commanding. Even over the network, Anurak felt the weight of each word. A shiver ran down his spine.

It had been a long time…

“Father…” he replied hoarsely, exhausted. He leaned back against the biomimetic seat, letting his body demand the rest it had been denied for six days. “What do you want?”

The man on screen narrowed his eyes, his calculating gaze sweeping over his body from head to toe. “I want you to explain why you left the Imperial planet without warning. Why you disobeyed… once again.”

His father clearly ignored, intentionally, the elephant in the room, which tested his patience.

“Why are you incapable of keeping your promises?” he spat harshly. “You promised me-

A frigid silence filled the spacious cockpit, broken only by the hum of engines and flickering holographic indicators. His father clenched his jaw, a finger tapping nervously on what seemed to be the arm of a chair, a tiny crack in his façade of control.

“Come home, we’ll talk calmly once you’ve rested.”

“No!” Anurak protested, almost striking the air with his slender hands, fatigue and rage intertwining. Yet he managed to speak calmly: “I’ve been running through space for six days, Father. Six days. Six days surviving on pills and synthetic nutrients, and I’ll keep going if you don’t meet my demands.”

Anurak knew he was playing dirty. He didn’t care. It was his last resort. He would continue. He had to-

Kira intervened, her calm, feminine voice cutting through the turmoil: “Young master, your trajectory calculations have not been updated since the previous alert. The ship is approaching the Oort cloud at critical speed.”

“Not now, Kira! I don’t want to talk about that!” the young man groaned, clenching his fists.

But the AI insisted: “Collision risk is imminent. Sensors indicate an uncharted rocky body on your trajectory. Estimated impact in… thirty seconds.”

Anurak closed his eyes, thinking. He knew he could not ignore the alert or the calculations. His fingers moved over the neural console, sending commands that made the ship’s quantum core vibrate. The warp engines flared, modulating the gravitational flow in a desperate attempt at an evasive hyperspace jump.

But his father was not finished, oblivious to the danger. “You waste the army’s resources that could be used against rebels to the Empire.” His voice grew firmer. “Your fugue endangers not only your life, but drains the Empire of valuable resources.”

“I didn’t ask you to look for me.”

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the whistling engines. The ship wobbled slightly, racing precisely against the invisible wall of icy rocks. Navigation holograms flickered under the shocks and last-second adjustments.

“Stop trying to buy time with this transmission. Nira can't hack Kira’s interface. You don’t possess the other half of the parental code.”

His father could not deny it.

In a way, he had touched the crux of the problem.

“Noo…” His father’s voice broke, a whisper of despair. “It wasn’t the right time yet. And I was right, you acted immaturely.”

But Anurak’s anger only intensified. “If you have nothing else to say, Father, I will cut the transmission.”

Suddenly, the cockpit shook with metallic clamor. An asteroid from the Oort cloud slammed into the hull with violent impact, sending plasma sparks flying and tearing away part of the fuselage. Red warning lights flashed, piercing alarms screamed through the enclosed space.

Kira immediately responded: “Collision in progress. Thermal shields damaged at 45%. Auxiliary thrusters required.”

Anurak tried to respond, but the transmission with his father abruptly cut out. The holographic image vanished. And finally, the young man panicked. “Father!” he cried, his heart racing. “Father! Answer me!”

In the terrifying silence, a voice rose, familiar, urgent: “Thanurak!” It was his father, in his neural network. Alarmed, nearly panicked. “Give me your position. Now!”

Anurak felt the weight of isolation crush his shoulders. The cockpit vibrated under damaged engines, holograms and navigation screens blinking red. The Oort cloud had become a winding labyrinth of rocks and ice, and he had to recalculate his trajectory in record time while managing the grief and fatigue consuming him.

“Kira… recalculate the trajectory.”

The cockpit’s holographic light danced across his alarmed features. Every pulse of the quantum core made the metal vibrate, every new data projection imposing tangible pressure on his shoulders.

“Recalculating, young master. Optimal trajectory toward nearest gravitational corridor found…”

Anurak closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply, trying to steady his breath. Memories of unkept promises, sleepless nights at the Intergalactic Academy, the weight of expectation,  he was the son of the highest-ranking military officer. A crushing solitude mingled with fear and immediate danger. The cockpit had become a prison, magnifying every problem, a microcosm of all that was at stake.

Anurak felt sick.

All he wanted was to meet his other parent.

To put a name to the man with golden skin, whose face was blurred in every photo stored in Kira’s memory.

That was all he wanted from his father.

He wanted to know why he had abandoned him, why he had never contacted him, why ? not through fabricated stories his family had been telling him since birth. He wanted to confront him, to hear the truth of his own mouth.

But, suddenly, the ship tilted vertically to avoid an asteroid. Holograms indicated possible trajectories layered atop one another. The auxiliary warp reactor hummed, adjusting propulsion as Kira calculated every micro-adjustment to avoid the next rocky mass.

“Noo…” His father’s voice resonated again, more calm. And it made him smile despite his distress; the man never lost composure, even when his own son was on the brink of death. “Give me your position. I need to know where you are before-”

Another jolt shook the small starship. Anurak absorbed it. His neural console gloves lit red, indicating critical overload. His ragged breathing, golden eyes fixed on the cascade of holographic projections multiplying around him.

“Kira… status of your calculations…?” he murmured, throat dry.

The AI’s feminine voice replied: “Trajectory recalculated at 92%. Velocity and vectors adjusted. Hyperspace jump recommended in three seconds to avoid impact.”

Anurak inhaled deeply, fingers gripping the biomimetic chair. “I’m in the Milky Way, within the Oort cloud… vector 14° northeast… relative speed 0.7c.”

“I’m coming for you.”

The young man nodded, too exhausted to resist. His throat dry, eyes brimming with restrained tears. He was tired of running, tired of processing information at breakneck speed. Holograms projected in three dimensions all around him. Every asteroid, every ice particle seemed poised to engulf him.

“Kira, full damage analysis.”

“Immediately, young master. The outer hull has multiple micro-fractures on the starboard flank, beyond the torn fuselage section. Secondary shields maintain ship integrity at 87%.”

Anurak closed his eyes for a moment, letting fatigue weigh them down. Six days… six days of fleeing, isolation, stress, synthetic injections. And now this. His anger at his father still burned, tempered by fear and sorrow. He finally realized his flight had been foolish. If he been mature, if he had stayed, he wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“Father… I’m exhausted.”

“I know,” came the man’s voice. “You must muster courage and calculate a new trajectory. I won’t be able to perform a warp jump so close to the cloud’s core.”

Anurak inhaled deeply, swallowed his tears, letting his fingers fly across the neural console, sending new instructions. Every movement precise, measured, even as fatigue threatened. Holograms shifted colors, red to yellow to green, then back to red.

“Overlaying calculations. Hyperspace jump activation in three… two… one…”

The ship arched, vibrating under the quantum core’s energy. Stars streaked into luminous filaments.

Silence fell in the cockpit, broken only by the hum of the main reactors and faint sensor flickers. Then, suddenly, Anurak blinked, shoulders finally sagging, body ceasing movement, unconscious.

“Loss of neural connection with the pilot. Switching to autopilot. Hyperspace jump impossible. Distortion process aborted.”

One second passed.

“New object detected. Imminent impact.”

Another second ticked by in the bright cockpit.

“I repeat, impact imminent.”

Kira received no response. The new asteroid crashed against the small ship, hurling it into a cluster of icy rocks. The starship collided with the rocky masses, further damaging its thermal shields.

“Unable to contact Elyon Prime. Vital signs low. Initiating reanimation protocol.”

Kira, a virtual interface without humanoid form, embodied the entire vessel. Her master was in danger. Even she understood the urgency. Lost amid an asteroid field, engines failing, pilot unconscious, vital signs dropping, her mission was to protect and preserve her charge.

“Commander?”

Contact with the young man’s father was impossible. He spoke directly into his mind. Now unconscious, the man shouted as if to a deaf listener.

She had to act. Inaction meant death before her eyes. If the small starship was not completely destroyed by another asteroid, rescue would find a cold, dismembered body in a half-destroyed cockpit.

“Reactivating engines. Distortion jump initiated.”

Engines roared to life, space ahead compressed and distorted. The cockpit flooded with intensifying light. Screens flickered, alarms screamed in the metallic shell of the advanced starship, without which survival through these impacts would have been impossible.

Anurak lay slumped in his seat, breathing shallow, chest rising with effort, pallid skin absorbing the red glow of the dashboard.

Kira monitored his vitals silently. Her core saturated with emergency signals.

“Heart rate: critical.”

“Oxygen saturation: dangerously low.”

A moment of hesitation flickered across the AI. Programmed to protect, she had never encountered such critical thresholds. Deep in her memory, a long-sealed sequence erupted.

“New data assimilated. Condition reached: activating dormant code.”

Kira’s voice lost its usual neutrality. Her interface surged, reprogramming itself.

“Reprogramming, returning to original version.”

“…Triggering Black Phoenix Protocol.”

A human voice resonated within the AI. Not a mere computer command. A living imprint, a distant memory. A memory recorded in her sealed code at the time of her creation.

“Listen, Kira. May I call you Kira? You will be the twin of Kinn’s interface, Kira and Nira. Sounds good, right? Anyway, you must always watch over Noo, even if I’m not present. And if you can't, contact me. Find me. Kira, find me. Wherever I am, whatever the cost, find me and alert me. I will know what to do.”

Kira scanned her databases. A DNA imprint associated with this fragment of code lit up.

“Identity confirmed.”

Kira spoke again, her voice now carrying the intensity of her creator’s persona fused within her: “Black Phoenix Protocol engaged. Priority search activated: locate Porsche Pachara Kittisawat.”

The screens abruptly reorganized. Stellar maps opened, millions of data points traversed radars, abandoned satellites, quantum beacons lost in interstellar void. Encrypted networks from old wars reactivated.

Kira searched every digital relic, every trace, every buried rumor.

“Creator… located…”

The entire cockpit vibrated. Guided by this new directive, Kira adjusted thrusters, locked trajectory, and whispered with newfound gentleness:

“Young master… we will find your father.”

Time seemed to dilate. The warp engine flared in a white and golden halo, and the ship entered the gravitational corridor at maximum speed. Oort cloud asteroids vanished behind, swept away by space distortion around the vessel.

And in the darkness of space, the starship was sucked into the interstellar void.

“Destination : Thaloria.”

Chapter Text

Thaloria | Orivann System | Dwarf Galaxy M110 (Andromeda Galaxy Satellite )

The veil of space tore open.

In the blink of an eye, the starship burst out of the gravitational corridor, as though swallowed and then spat back out by the void.

The vessel emerged from the emptiness, its symmetrical frame and smooth, pearlescent hull bathed in a soft pink glow. Its retractable wings stretched outward like blades, ready to slice through the atmosphere. The ship steadied itself as the distortion engines powered down, their low hum fading into silence.

Several hundred kilometers away loomed a massive planet, surrounded by a halo of rose and amber light. Thaloria. Towering and immense, it appeared as if conjured from nothingness, a jewel of pink and orange suspended in the darkness of interstellar space. Its atmosphere shimmered with a rosy tint, streaked by oceans of diluted crimson, almost like blood.

The continents looked smothered, buried under a vast, untamed jungle. And yet, amidst that wild expanse, gleaming structures pierced the canopy, domes and towers flashing like shards of crystal.

Thaloria was, indeed, a forest world. But hidden within its biodiversity was an advanced civilization, home to both humans and the planet’s indigenous peoples.

Anurak’s vessel hung motionless, suspended in the void, as though contemplating this new idyllic world. Compared to the planet, its size was minuscule, a black speck swallowed by the exotic, titanic sphere.

Kira’s voice resonated in the cockpit, calm, yet deeper than usual.

“Atmospheric phase engaged.”

The ship plunged into Thaloria’s upper atmosphere like a projectile fired at full speed, caught in the pull of the planet’s gravity well. The first layers of air slammed against the hull, and in an instant the sky became a blazing wall. The starship ignited, wrapped in a halo of plasma, rattling and groaning like a drum shaken by unseen hands.

Trails of fire devoured the exterior, casting a crimson glow across the cockpit. From the outside, the vessel looked like a fireball ripping through the heavens.

The thermal shields, already weakened, began to fail. Plates glowed red,8 blackened, then cracked under pressure. Metal trembled under the strain; bolts threatened to snap. Segments of armor flared white-hot, some splintering apart with bursts of sparks. Compressed air became a fiery bubble enveloping the ship.

As it descended, the starship left behind a blazing trail across the sky, like a falling star tearing the night in two.

Gravity pulled harder, accelerating the fall. The vessel plummeted at an impossible speed, dragged toward the surface like a projectile no force could hope to stop.

Winds and atmosphere could not alter its trajectory, though they shook it violently. The ship burned brighter, a flaming orb on the brink of crashing into the ocean.

Inside, the chaos was worse. The walls, heated to searing white, shuddered under pressure. Metal groaned, ready to rip apart at any second. Alarms screamed in shrill, endless tones, punctuated by Kira’s voice.

“Critical condition. Thermal shields destroyed. Control loss: eighty-seven percent.”

Anurak, strapped to his seat, remained unconscious, his head lolling to the side with each tremor. His breath came shallow and uneven, crushed by the overwhelming pressure that pinned him in place. Every vibration tossed him like a leaf caught in a storm.

Holographic displays glowed crimson around him, filling the cabin with swarms of data, numbers streaming too fast to read. Cables snapped one after another, spitting sparks and the acrid scent of burning metal into the air.

“Hull integrity compromised. Probability of disintegration: forty percent.”

Suddenly, an emergency protection capsule deployed around Anurak, automatically triggered by Kira. A translucent shell sealed around his body, shielding him from the worst of the turbulence. The interior pressurized slightly, muffling the roar and scorching heat.

“Survival protocol engaged. Pilot survival: top priority.”

At least now, her young master was protected, whether the ship struck the ocean or was forced to eject him. He would live.

But the cabin remained a hell. Vibrations shook the vessel like an unending earthquake. Loose objects crashed against the metallic floor, clattering in the chaos.

“Calculating probability of pilot survival upon impact. Ejection probability: high.”

Kira’s voice remained steady, neutral, mechanical. As if oblivious to the brutality of the moment. Or perhaps she knew, but as an artificial intelligence, could only deliver preprogrammed responses without emotion.

Through the cockpit canopy, flames raged, blinding and all-consuming. Anurak, sealed in his capsule, lay still, ready to be ejected if necessary. He felt nothing of the panic, only the searing heat that pierced even his shell of protection, and the pounding thunder that made his skull reverberate, like a beast roaring all around him, or perhaps inside his own head.

“Preparing for the splashdown."

Then, suddenly, everything became silent.

Kira’s voice stopped.

A brilliant light erupted from the ground, like lightning striking upward. A vertical beam, white and pure, speared through the sky. It struck the vessel mid-fall, freezing it in place. The starship hung motionless, caught among the pink clouds.

The alarms shut off by themselves, and the infernal blaze around the hull flickered out. The ship no longer moved, as if some unseen force had seized control. Then, gently, it began to descend, drawn toward the source of the beam.

“Tractor field detected. External origin. Thalorian technology.” Kira’s voice slowed, modulated. “We are... prisoners."

***

“PORSCHE!”

Porsche jumped.

His wrench slipped from his gloved hands, but he caught it just in time before it fell vertiginously and crashed below, risking injuring one of the hangar workers. Wrench secure in his grip, Porsche lowered his eyes to the person who had shouted, and almost regretted doing so.

And shit.

He should have ignored her.

If he hadn’t been standing on that repair platform, the woman staring at him with lightning in her eyes would probably have driven her venomous claws down his throat.

Below, on the lower level of the open-air hangar, stood his current girlfriend. Or his ex-girlfriend? Porsche wasn’t sure anymore. He only hoped he’d live long enough to find out.

He grimaced slightly as he climbed down from the platform with an acrobatic move, thankful he hadn’t lost any of his agility despite approaching his thirties. Porsche landed on the floor; his black boots clacked loudly. He straightened to his full height, towering over the Thalorian female, and smiled, spinning his wrench in his hand.

“Hello, Seyra.”

Porsche wasn’t a jerk, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on the lithe silhouette of the violet-eyed female thalorian.

Under the turquoise light of Thaloria’s three giant moons, visible even in daylight, Porsche leaned casually against the dented hull of the transport he was repairing. The hot air smelled of metal and the sweet perfume of tropical flowers growing on the ceiling canopy.

Seyra N’halis was his girlfriend. A Thalorian who radiated both a magnetic and dangerous aura. Porsche congratulated himself on his tastes, even alien ones. The Thalorian was stunning. Her dark purple skin was covered in fine, translucent scales that shimmered as if catching the moons’ light.

Her eyes were wide and deep violet, almost opaque, with no visible pupils, an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. Her face was finely sculpted, though with a natural hardness that betrayed a formidable inner strength. Thin bony ridges traced her temples and extended into a crest along her hairline that glowed at times, reflecting her emotions.

She wore a long purple dress split at the thigh, hugging her toned yet graceful figure. The fabric, organic in origin, seemed to breathe and drift slightly around her, accentuating her curves and adding an air of provocation. Her slim, powerful legs ended in stiletto heels inlaid with multicolored gems, sparkling like trapped stars in crystal.

Porsche found himself dumbstruck by her beauty.

“Porsche! Porsche! Porsche!!!!! Porsche, are you listening?!”

Porsche blinked. “What?”

The Thalorian’s face flared. “You…”

Porsche didn’t understand her anger. “Seyra, are you going somewhere? Why are you dressed like that? I’m not saying you don’t look gorgeous. That dress suits you.”

“You…” she spat again, her dark lips curling into a venomous smile that revealed sharp fangs.

She closed the distance between them, raised her hand, and slapped him so hard the echo cracked through the air. Porsche could have avoided it if he’d been more alert, if he hadn’t been pulling all-nighters on his latest “revolutionary” invention.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

Porsche frowned, ready to fire back, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“Go fuck yourself, human! It’s over between us! Rahhhh! I should’ve listened to my friends and stayed on the local menu!”

Pivoting on her pointed heels, she walked away with arrogant grace, leaving behind the spicy scent of kyrrh flowers, a fragrance prized by young Thalorian women. Porsche had heard they had aphrodisiac effects on males. Maybe it was true; the woman who had just left was magnificent. It was his loss. Even if she’d just slapped him in front of everyone like an idiot.

Porsche sighed, stored his wrench in his tool belt and shoved his hands in his pockets, already mourning his relationship while planning the next one. He’d spotted another girl… what was her name? Nyvra?

A voice crackled through his neural communicator, pulling him back.

“Hia!”

“Chay?”

“You had a scheduled meeting with her at the rise of the second moon. You missed it.”

Porsche realized he had fucked up. “Oh shit. Why didn’t you remind me?”

Why hadn’t an alarm notified him of a date with the most beautiful woman in all of Neyvera?

“I don’t manage your love life, brother.”

Porsche groaned with frustration. What was the point of living surrounded by automata if none of them could remind him of basic things in his existence? He shot a hopeful look toward the direction Seyra had gone, but she’d already disappeared.

He glanced down at his wrench and sighed. He always messed things up. He couldn’t keep a relationship… 

Sometimes Porsche wondered if it was his fault…

Shaking his head to dispel the thought, Porsche started to climb back up the repair platform to resume his work rather than take one of the magnetic lifts surrounding the transport.

The slap on his cheek still burned when another call from Chay appeared in his peripheral display. Porsche accepted the call, halting his ascent.

Chay’s hurried voice sliced into his mind.

“Hia! Emergency! A medium-sized imperial vessel has just been detected in Thaloria’s upper atmosphere. Signature confirmed: Elyonian ship.”

Porsche’s heart missed a beat. Anything involving the capital planet was never good news.

“Are you sure, Chay?”

“No doubt. The ship looks badly damaged, maybe a method of infiltration. You need to check it out.”

Porsche swore through his teeth and hurriedly descended the metal structure with agility. The hangar buzzed with activity; chunks of spacecraft were ferried back and forth. The acrid scent of synthetic oils and ozone saturated the air, and sparks still leapt from a stripped engine.

“Impact point?” he asked through his neural link.

“Southwest ocean. The ship seems damaged and out of control. I think it’ll disintegrate before reaching the ocean.”

He registered the information and ran through the hangar toward his personal workshop.

“Chay, activate the paralysis beam and tractor the ship to Neyvera’s North landing platform.”

“Okay. Sending you more details on the target.”

The transmission cut.

Porsche didn’t have time to read the data scrolling across his holographic display. His heart pounded and a growing unease settled in his chest. He reached his personal depot and rummaged through his inventions for his preferred means of transport.

Amid the heap of metal parts lay an anti-grav board on its suspension, black and sleek, bristling with miniature thrusters. It had no armor, no protective cockpit, just a thin layer of steel and light, and his pilot’s instincts. It was a simple anti-gravity board, fast enough to catch any failing starship, or even an Elyonian cruiser.

Porsche slid on his control gloves and protective goggles, then leapt onto it; his boots locked automatically into the magnetic mounts. The board vibrated and lifted off the floor with a silent hum.

“Chay, open the hangar doors.”

The suspended hangar doors opened, unveiling the planet’s blazing horizon and its three moons. Porsche spotted a white beam piercing the clouds and immobilizing a ship he couldn’t identify at that distance.

Without thinking, he plunged into the void, leaning forward. The board streaked through the air at insane speed, tearing the atmosphere like a shooting star.

Chay’s voice came through again, calmer.

“Paralysis beam activated. Tractor engaged.”

“Good work, Chay.”

“Thanks, Hia.”

Porsche climbed skyward at a steady speed and intercepted the ship within minutes, before Chay could drag it down to Neyvera’s North runway, the capital’s airstrip. He approached the structure that hung motionless; the ship seemed to float, frozen, its engines asleep beneath the beam. But it gave off a strange impression, too silent, too isolated. Porsche examined it. It wasn’t a standard war machine, nor a military transport. It was something else, custom-built.

Steel plates of the ship slid past him, charred. The thermal shields were badly damaged. Yet one thing remained intact. The imperial emblem of Elyon Prime.

Porsche closed in, also trapped in the paralysis beam. He drew close enough to touch the imperial emblem with the tip of his finger.

A wave of sadness washed over him.

Kinn…

Porsche shook his head and forced himself to focus on the mission and the possible threat inside. He doubted there were survivors, but Porsche preferred to stay alert.

“I’m attempting insertion,” he murmured for Chay.

Porsche aligned perfectly with the ship and activated the magnets on his board. With a metallic screech it clung to the hull, though adhesion was imperfect given the vessel’s battered state. He drew his plasma cutter and forced the main airlock. The carbonized metal gave way easily. The hatch opened with a hiss of decompression. Porsche almost laughed at how easily he slipped inside.

He entered cautiously and silently; his boots left almost no trace on the dark, reflective floor. He moved forward with care.

The interior was dim, lit only by the light of a distant sun. No soldiers, no androids, not even a service drone. Not even the familiar hum of machinery. Only the echo of his footsteps and his breathing in narrow corridors.

The ship was definitely dead. Maybe its pilots were too.

Porsche placed a gloved hand on the ship’s wall and accidentally brushed a control panel that activated a hologram, projecting floating data into the air: numbers, star charts, unfamiliar energy fluxes. Porsche gave a small smile.

“Interesting… so they made a distortion jump.” 

He continued exploring.

Turning a corner, he noticed a living and resting area. Simple but evidently luxurious. Porsche recognized the gold silk imported from Seralis. The space had convertible seats that became bunks, transparent partitions, all under pale blue lighting. A small work nook displayed books, star maps, a computer, etc.

A sound to his left drew his attention. Porsche turned his head and found a sealed transparent door. He knelt to inspect the biometric lock. To his surprise, the door opened on its own.

Porsche entered the ship’s command room. The first thing that caught his eye was the central viewport offering a sweeping view of Neyvera, its domes and dense forest. Buildings tangled with vegetation. Two biomimetic seats faced the viewport, surrounded by holographic interfaces blinking faintly. Porsche made a circuit of the room. The space wasn’t huge but felt open, not claustrophobic.

He was about to turn back when a shard of glass caught his attention.

Porsche approached the biomimetic seats cautiously; each metallic creak echoed through the empty room. In front of him, a biomimetic chair held a young boy asleep in a protective capsule.

He was alive; every exhalation sent a plume of vapor across the mask covering his mouth and nose.

Porsche stood, stunned.

It was a child.

What was he doing there?

Had his vessel been attacked, and he’d drifted through space to this place?

But who was this boy traveling alone aboard an Elyonian imperial ship?

His skin was pale, made almost translucent by the glass barrier that separated them.

Porsche rested his fingertips on the survival shell, leaning on the chair’s armrests. To his surprise, the translucent layer around the child opened by itself, as if the ship recognized his presence.

He froze, then frowned. This intelligent mechanism… he knew this kind of system. And as he drew closer, a clear voice sounded in the control room. “Identity recognized. Presence authorized. Creator, Noo has been protected in accordance with the dormant code mission.”

Porsche stepped back, his heart pounding. He knew that voice. That tone, that choice of words… it was Kira. No… no… no… it couldn’t be.

“I'm Kira, this vessel’s artificial intelligence… welcome… creator.”

“No… you can’t be Kira.”

Because if she was Kira, the unconscious boy in that seat was...

***

14 years ago | Elyon Prime | Imperial Military Academy | "MechMaker" Student Club Hangar

Anxiety was a familiar feeling for Porsche, an old shadow that had followed him all his life. The anxiety of passing the entrance exam to the military academy, the anxiety of his first day on Elyon Prime, the glittering capital of the Elyonian Empire, the anxiety that had twisted his stomach the day Kinn had stood at his dorm door. So serious, almost intimidating… and yet so different from the mischievous, provocative expression that usually lit up his features.

In the end, Porsche had worried for nothing. Kinn had simply asked him out. And that single word made his heart beat faster than any machine or calculation ever could.

They had celebrated that first date in a small exotic restaurant that had recently opened in a new shopping quarter. Nothing spectacular, just the two of them, shared laughter, colorful dishes, and the strange feeling that nothing could happen to them.

Yet for the first time since he had become pregnant, Porsche felt a different kind of anxiety, sweet and terrifying at once: the anxiety of protecting their child. Their “Noo,” as Kinn had begun calling them tenderly. His body reacted even before his mind could process it: the stress signals on his holographic screen blinked softly, reminding him his hormones were out of balance.

But what could he do? Porsche was a carrier. A man capable of giving life. Not through his science, not through his calculations, but through his body, through his heart. Biology wasn’t his domain, he lived in numbers, in code, in perfect algorithms where nothing could fail. And yet life, real life, escaped all logic.

He remembered the moment he discovered he was pregnant. Four months already. Kinn had laughed, a warm, incredulous laugh, and Porsche had felt his heart swell with a tenderness he had never known. At fifteen, it was crazy, reckless, and yet… wonderful. They had explored their youth, their bodies, their desire, laughing and marveling, awkward but sincere.

Now the anxiety returned, but it was bittersweet. The innocence of their love mixed with fear of the future, with the idea that their secret could be discovered. Kinn had promised he would take care of everything, but Porsche knew he doubted, always, his own ability to protect them all. Kinn often forgot to fix his hair in the morning… how could he protect a child, and the two of them, from this world that was too large and too cruel? 

They had broken the academy’s rules. At worst, Kinn would get out of it, Porsche suspected him to be the kid of someone very important in the imperial family. As for him, he didn’t know… maybe he would be expelled from the academy and sent back to his colony planet.

And their child? Porsche didn’t know what might happen. Maybe... maybe they’d be taken from him…

He sighed, letting his fingers fall on his computer keyboard to focus on something else, something simpler to control: a humanoid android with half-closed eyes and blond hair falling softly to its shoulders.

It was an artificial intelligence he had been developing for a military competition. Emperor Korn was seeking new military technologies, and to inspire young creators, he had announced that whoever brought him the most advanced innovation would be awarded a prize. Porsche had set foot on Elyon Prime through a similar path. With limited means and primitive technology he had designed an anti-gravity board capable of moving as fast as a military cruiser.

That invention had earned him the honor of catching the attention of the officials, who saw in him a talent far too valuable to be wasted on Seralis, a human colony under the protection of the Elyonian Empire. His brilliance had won him a scholarship, a passage to the capital planet, and admission to the prestigious Imperial Military Academy.

Porsche had been working on this project for months. He imagined himself becoming a robotics engineer for the Imperial Army once he left the academy, and this little masterpiece would propel him much further.

And yet, Porsche no longer knew what to do with this AI. He understood its potential: it was a miniature quantum computer, housed in a humanoid frame, a military killing machine. That had been the purpose Porsche had assigned her… before he became pregnant.

He had named her KIRA for Knowledge Intelligence for Robotic Assistance, an AI created to protect his unborn child. A machine born from the cold logic of programming, but which, in that moment, seemed almost… human, in its own way.

Porsche let out another sigh and activated the android. He had something important to tell her. 

“Listen, Kira. May I call you Kira? You will be the twin of Kinn’s interface, Kira and Nira. Sounds good, right? Anyway, you must always watch over Noo, even if I’m not present. And if you can't, contact me. Find me. Kira, find me. Wherever I'm, whatever the cost, find me and alert me. I will know what to do.”

The android did not react. But Porsche knew she was listening, that she would obey. He only hoped that command would never have to be executed. Returning to his computer, Porsche coded that directive under the name  Black Phoenix because he liked that mythical creature from ancient times, capable of rising from its ashes.

As he finished typing the last line, the hangar door opened softly. Porsche turned his head and found Kinn standing there, leaning against the frame. A smile on his lips, but a gravity in his eyes that made Porsche shiver. 

His silky curls had disappeared, replaced by a stricter cut, a military undercut that emphasized his aristocratic features. His red-and-gold uniform bore not a single crease, elegant and formal, outlining a well-built frame. Kinn had grown, not just taller, he seemed more mature too.

“Come here, Porsche.”

Porsche rose from the floor, a provocative smile aimed at the other boy. He quickly brushed the oil-stained dust off his uniform, closed his computer, and powered down the android.

“In your dreams, Kinn.”

Porsche turned away and walked to his locker to stow his things. He didn’t expect to feel a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a head rest on his shoulder.

Kinn hugged him, laying his head on his shoulder. A light kiss brushed the cartilage of his ear, making him shiver.

“Baby, don’t you want to know how you react to that command in my dreams?” Kinn murmured in the hollow of his ear.

A warmth rose in Porsche’s neck. He answered, half teasing, half sincere. “But I already know… that you are relieved, like a needy dog that would give anything for a piece of my body.”

Kinn laughed, his guttural laugh echoing in the empty hangar. Porsche rolled his eyes, amused, and Kinn added, mock-serious: “I know, baby… I’m the one who’s always begging.”

Porsche fixed his dark eyes on his boyfriend’s golden irises and smiled.  “And?”

Kinn closed his eyes, suffering slightly, seeming to struggle to preserve his last shred of pride. “Please, Porsche… let me make love to you.”

Porsche burst out laughing, gently pulling the other boy toward the hangar exit. Kinn let himself be led without resistance.

“Let’s find a more private place!”

***

Porsche took another step back, refusing to accept the possibility.

A headache began to throb in his skull as he felt his blood pressure drop.

“Hia…? Are you alright…? Your vital signs-”

“I’m fine, Chay.”

“Alright… just warn me if something happens…”

Porsche felt himself losing his footing, and despite the uneasy weight growing in his chest, a spark of astonishment and fascination flickered within him. The artificial intelligence he had once designed, programmed to anticipate and protect, had just proven capable of making decisions on its own. Wasn’t this yet another proof of his genius ?

He leaned toward the seat, pulled off his gloves, and touched the pale cheek of the young boy; his fingers brushed it softly, as if afraid it might crumble. New data flickered across his holographic screen, displaying the boy’s vital signs. His pulse was weak but steady.

His features were pale, his hair curly… Porsche knew nothing about him. And yet, Kira’s presence and the way the ship had reacted made it clear that this event was no coincidence.

One way or another, he was connected to this child. That realization only deepened Porsche’s unease.

No... Porsche shook his head. It couldn’t be his baby. Kira had to be mistaken. Was this even the real Kira, or just a copy? Could it be a trap? Some kind of cosmic joke? Porsche knew he was lying to himself; the execution of the Black Phoenix code was proof enough.

He sighed and pulled his hand away from the boy’s skin. Straightening a little, as if to distance himself, he spoke softly:

“Kira… tell me… why did you bring him here? To Thaloria?”

Kira answered, her tone almost curious. “Creator, the dormant code was activated. I searched for you through cyberspace. I found you. And I brought you Noo.”

Porsche barely listened. His gaze wandered through the ship’s structure. The two main compartments revealed themselves as he moved forward: the control room, where the young stranger still lay unconscious, and the living and rest module.

“The design optimizes every centimeter for survival and performance,” Kira commented, like if she knew what he thought. “Human presence is secondary, but accounted for.”

Porsche arched a brow. Secondary…? And yet every detail, every light, every module seemed made to feel almost… like home. He realized just how much the ship had been designed for its lone pilot: a perfect machine for survival, control, and precision, but also for a solitary life suspended among the stars. Every compartment, separate yet connected, reflected the fusion of cold military calculation with an almost paternal care for its young occupant.

Porsche drew in a deep breath, his eyes following the vessel’s sleek lines, trying to understand. The interior was relatively intact compared to the ship’s charred exterior.

He stepped closer to the young man and lifted him from the biomimetic seat, his body limp in Porsche’s arms. How long had he lived, alone aboard this craft? And more importantly, who was he really? Porsche hoped Kira would provide answers. He rested the boy’s head on his shoulder, then hooked his legs around his hips, cradling him against his chest. The boy’s frame barely covered his torso. Porsche was tall, broad-shouldered, solid.

“Who is he?”

“My young master.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I'm one of the most powerful artificial intelligences in the universe. Creator, everything I say has meaning.”

Porsche strongly doubted that. The version of Kira he had once developed had indeed been powerful, but hardly one of the most powerful AIs in the universe. She must have been perfected in the past decade.

Still, if his doubts were right, this child was his son. If this was truly their “Noo,” his and Kinn’s…

Porsche pushed the thought away.

That wasn’t the case. He knew Anakinn, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces, as everyone liked to call him, had a son rarely exposedt to intergalactic media or cyberspace.

Everyone knew he had conceived that child with his wife, Tawan Ratanakornchai.

And if that was indeed the case, the boy’s presence here, on Thaloria, could only mean trouble.

Porsche closed his painful eyes, his headache had turned into a migraine. 

Kinn would come to claim him personally.

Chapter Text

Il y a 14 ans | Elyon Prime | Académie militaire impériale | Terrains d'entraînement de l'Est

Porsche leva les yeux vers le soleil artificiel suspendu haut au-dessus du ciel de la planète capitale.

Il brillait intensément, peut-être même trop intensément pour les premières heures de la journée.

La lumière ne brûlait pas sa peau, contrairement à l'astre violent de sa colonie. Ici, l'éclat était presque doux, comme une caresse chaleureuse sur son visage, tout en restant éblouissant par son éclat.

Son regard sombre dériva vers la gauche, vers les bâtiments en marbre poli qui s'élevaient tout autour de lui.

L'Académie militaire impériale d'Élyone Prime s'étendait sur la plaine tel un joyau poli par le soleil matinal. Ses tours de marbre blanc scintillaient sous les premiers rayons, ses vastes dômes de verre reflétaient l'azur du ciel, et ses jardins géométriques s'étendaient en terrasses parfaites, ponctués de fontaines cristallines et de statues de bronze.

Comme partout sur cette planète, chaque détail respirait la grandeur de l'Empire : balustrades finement sculptées, statues de généraux légendaires, amphithéâtres aux lignes impeccables où se forgeaient les stratèges, les ingénieurs et les officiers de demain. Cette académie n'était pas un camp austère, mais un lieu de raffinement et d'excellence, où savoir, discipline et force se mêlaient pour former l'élite de l'Empire.

Porsche se tenait sur l'un des terrains d'entraînement en plein air de l'académie. Le terrain était vaste, déjà animé par des mouvements précis. Les cadets s'entraînaient sous le regard attentif de leurs instructeurs. Certains maniaient des armes d'entraînement, d'autres observaient attentivement, leurs uniformes d'entraînement impeccables reflétant la lumière. La diversité des compétences était remarquable : tactique, combat, science militaire, ingénierie, et même diplomatie militaire, tout s'y croisait, façonnant les cadets en individus complets, prêts à servir l'Empire dans toutes ses dimensions.

Au milieu de cette foule, une personne a attiré son attention.

Plus précisément, un garçon, plus grand que lui. Le regard curieux de Porsche s'attarda sur lui plus longtemps qu'il n'aurait dû.

Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul, surnommé Sa Majesté par certains étudiants, car il portait le nom de Theerapanyakul et appartenait donc à la famille impériale. Personne ne le savait à quel degré. Certains murmuraient qu'il était le fils d'un général de haut rang. Le garçon aux cheveux noirs était plus grand que la plupart, plus pâle aussi. Il se déplaçait avec une aisance froide et expérimentée. Si les rumeurs étaient vraies, fils d'un général respecté, il portait son nom comme une armure invisible.

Chacun de ses gestes était délibéré, chaque pas calculé. Ses bottes frappaient le sol à un rythme régulier, son regard balayait la cour avec l'assurance de quelqu'un qui savait déjà décrypter une situation et en anticiper le moindre mouvement. Son corps, entraîné et sculpté, portait la marque d'années de discipline.

Porsche, by contrast, wore his training uniform carelessly, his dark hair slightly disheveled, chin lifted, black eyes burning. And yet, every one of his movements carried precision, strength, and instinct. He was a proud boy who ignored hierarchy and the pursuit of perfection, and in doing so, drew every eye upon him.

Those who thought him inexperienced were mistaken. He possessed an audacity, a raw power that made him unpredictable, and fascinating.

That morning, they had learned a new instructor would be assigned to them. Chan, chief of Emperor Korn’s royal guard. A tall, well-built man with short silver hair and eyes cold enough to freeze the air. He stepped forward to their group. His deep voice silenced the whispers of the young students.

“Today, you will face an opponent to measure your aptitude in close combat. This will not be a game. The Empire requires those who know when to strike and how to rise again after every fall. Hand-to-hand combat is as essential as mastering mechas or piloting superluminal cruisers. On primitive, low-tech worlds, the right skills in battle can decide everything. You are not allowed to fail, in any form.”

For the will to conquer had to run in their veins.

A heavy silence fell. They all knew failure was not merely personal. It betrayed indiscipline, weakness, two things the Empire despised above all. They belonged to a victorious race, and humanity’s domination of the galaxies would stand only so long as they remained victorious, for the Empire’s enemies were countless, and the universe vast.

They were well aware. Today, they were the strongest, but they had to remain so, to grow stronger still. For one day, whether today or tomorrow, a superior race might rise and strike them down, destroying all that the first colonists had built. It was a heavy burden to bear, the protection of the humanity. 

The first duels began, executed with force and rigor, sand rising in light clouds beneath each blow. The students held their breath, captivated by the fluidity and mastery of every move.

Then Chan raised his hand, halting the fights, and singled out two cadets from the ranks.

“Anakinn and Kittisawat. To the center.”

A ripple ran through the crowd. The strong son of a general against the colony boy, a newcomer who had earned a rare scholarship in military engineering. Was it not a little unfair? Anakinn already had sharp combat skills, while Porsche had only just arrived.

Everyone knew they were about to witness either a rare, intense clash or the new boy’s public humiliation. Was this hazing? A way of telling Porsche he didn’t measure up, that he had no place among them?

The students stopped questioning and turned their eyes on the two boys who had been called.

Kinn stepped forward first, straight-backed, every movement radiating confidence. He walked almost with a natural nonchalance.

Porsche followed, dragging his feet slightly, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.

They faced each other at the center of the circle formed by the other cadets.

“Take your weapons.”

Porsche barely raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of rules. So it wouldn’t just be hand-to-hand combat? That meant he wouldn’t get to put his hands directly on the other boy’s body? Too bad. How else could he check whether those muscles were the result of natural training or of some convenient biotech enhancement? A shame, Porsche had wanted to see that pale elite boy bleed, just to confirm there was real red blood flowing through his veins.

Kinn stared at him intensely. His expression betrayed nothing, yet the arrogant pride in every gesture told another story. Both boys reached for the spears an automaton had brought to the center of the field. When they had armed themselves, another machine traced a circle in the dust around them.

“If you step outside the circle, you lose,” commented their silver-haired instructor, his tone sharp as steel. “Fight!”

Porsche moved first, spear in hand, his boots striking the sand with the intention of intimidation. Kinn, however, did not flinch. Unmoved, he twirled the spear between his hands with the mastery of an expert before shifting into a defensive stance.

The morning sun beat down on their faces, making the first beads of sweat glisten on their skin, each breath drawing in the warm air of the gardens.

Porsche launched the opening attack, cutting through the air diagonally with startling speed. Kinn blocked with the center of his spear, feeling the wood shudder in his grip, the shock running up his arms into his shoulders. The close impact sent his heart racing; adrenaline flooded his veins.

For the first time, he realized he wasn’t facing an ordinary cadet, not one who had secured his place through family connections.

And that made him smile inwardly. Beneath that first blow was raw, unrefined strength.

Interesting…

Porsche pivoted on his feet, shifting rhythm, striking left then right, feinting again and again. Kinn dodged each blow with fluid precision until a thrust grazed his shoulder, tearing skin and leaving a dull, stinging burn. A flash of pain shot through him.

Porsche stepped back, smiling smugly.

Kinn gritted his teeth, adrenaline and focus surging through him. He grimaced, but his eyes never left Porsche, unable to look away from this reckless, insolent opponent.

The other boy wasn’t treating this like simple training. Well, neither would he anymore.

Kinn charged forward with force and speed.

Their spears clashed, wood striking wood with deafening cracks, each impact vibrating through their arms. They drew closer, the tension between them electric, faces only inches apart.

Kinn could feel the heat of Porsche’s breath against his skin, his raw scent hanging in the air. With every near touch, each exhale burned against his neck and shoulders, a searing tension passing between them, imperceptible to others but overwhelming to him. It threw him off, if only for a moment, forcing him a step back.

Porsche seized the opening, striking again. Kinn blocked with his forearm.

The crowd gasped at the sheer violence of the blow, which shattered the holographic watch generator strapped to Kinn’s wrist. They were enthralled, hardly able to breathe, caught in the whirlwind of savage, rapid exchanges, mesmerized by the explosive energy radiating from the two boys.

Porsche attacked boldly, his strikes quick, unpredictable, every move designed to test Kinn’s reflexes. Kinn felt a strange thrill, a fascination mingled with the irritation of not being able to dominate immediately.

He retaliated with precision and violence, fighting to seize control. But Porsche countered with fluid agility, every dodge mocking him. Kinn was heavier, stronger; Porsche was lighter, faster. At times, the colony boy let his spear graze Kinn’s wounded arm deliberately. The pain shot through Kinn, but instead of breaking him, it fed that unsettling rush, the proximity, the confrontation that both excited and defied him.

Their boots pounded the ground, sand spraying in clouds as their spears cracked against each other with sharp snaps. Porsche fought with reckless audacity, alternating between rapid strikes and calculated feints. Kinn countered with sheer force, every parry ringing with power.

The wood quivered at every clash, their ragged breaths filled the air. Their bodies twisted, circling, colliding almost, the tension mounting with each block and dodge.

Suddenly, Porsche feinted, sliding his spear under Kinn’s and thrusting upward with brutal force. Pain shot through Kinn’s arm and shoulder. Sand stung his eyes, and then-

A hard kick slammed into his stomach, hurling him toward the edge of the circle. The ground burned his palms and scraped his face as he landed. He rolled, sprang back up at once, chest heaving, eyes locked on Porsche, who stood above him, gaze blazing with challenge, with something unexpected: desire and raw, electric tension entwined.

Kinn clenched his teeth. He was the elite. He would not lose to some fucking colony boy.

Snatching up his spear, he attacked with fury, striking toward Porsche’s ankle. Porsche leapt at the last moment, avoiding the worst of it, but the strike clipped his leg, sending pain lancing through him from head to toe. Porsche swore in pain.

Their breaths mingled, harsh and uneven, the spectators almost feeling the heat and adrenaline surging between the two fighters.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Porsche panted, spear leveled at Kinn, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.

“Why should I?” Kinn replied, half amused, half irritated.

The duel raged on, each blow faster, harsher than the last. Their bodies brushed constantly, every clash feeding a strange, mutual fascination. Kinn realized that despite his discipline, he couldn’t look away from Porsche. And Porsche, amid his feints and bold strikes, felt the intensity of Kinn’s gaze burning into him, the tension between them sparking hotter with every exchange.

In one final move, Porsche drove his spear at Kinn’s throat in what would have been a killing blow. Kinn hadn’t expected it. He stumbled backward and fell hard into the sand.

When he tried to rise, Porsche’s spear was already pointed at his face.

"Learn that in a fight, all blows are allowed, there is no rule, as long as you can kill the other, otherwise, it is you who die. That, they don't tell you here, but on planet like mine, each fight is a fight for survival."

Kinn lay on the ground, breathless, unable to hide the shock on his face. Above him, Porsche panted, a proud, victorious smile playing on his lips. Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled: defiance and desire, fascination and rivalry.

“Victory: Kittisawat,” Chan declared, arms folded across his powerful chest.

The crowd erupted into murmurs and scattered applause. Porsche stood tall, breathing hard, his triumphant smile burning bright. Kinn remained still for several seconds, muscles aching, chest heaving, but his eyes never left Porsche. He couldn’t look away.

He had lost…?

Kinn drew a sharp breath, throat dry. A heavy silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft wind stirring a few strands of their hair.

Porsche let his spear fall to the ground and extended a hand to help him up. Kinn stared at it for a long moment before finally taking it, pulling himself to his feet.

“You… were impressive,” Porsche said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Not just your technique… but your strength, your focus. I didn’t think elite kids from the capital could fight like that.”

Kinn wasn’t amused, but he still replied.

“You too… you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever faced, especially anyone from outside this planet.”

A shiver ran down Porsche’s spine at those words, a flush rising to his throat and coloring his cheeks. He shook his head, unsettled, unsure what to say. His heart still thundered with the adrenaline of their clash. His grin widened.

“By the way, I’m Porsche.”

The other boy returned the smile, smaller, more controlled. Yet Porsche realized then just how handsome he looked when he smiled.

“Call me Kinn.”

***

Kinn…

Porsche opened his eyes to a room that was far too bright.

The muffled words from a glowing screen pulled his attention toward the holographic display in the corner of the waiting room where he sat.

A bluish light flooded the space, sharper and more vivid than before. Porsche lifted his head slightly, eyelids still heavy with sleep. He swore under his breath.

He must have dozed off after bringing the boy to the medical wing of their special unit.

The boy…

Porsche buried his face in his hands, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders.

Why had he dreamed again of his first meeting with Kinn…?

That boy… was he truly Kinn’s son?

With a sigh, Porsche’s gaze drifted back to the screen, where the evening news was being broadcast. He decided to listen while he waited for the boy to wake up.

It was an official broadcast from the Galactic Government, more precisely from Elyon Prime, the capital of all humanity, or at least of those who had sworn allegiance to that all-powerful family since the conquest of space had begun.

Porsche thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he recognized a familiar face on the screen. It was Tawan Ratanakornchai, whom many papers hailed as the most beautiful woman in the known universe. 

She was Kinn’s wife, the imperial consort, yet her presence seemed to belong to another world altogether. Her skin had the delicate pallor of marble, and her long silver hair, cascading down her shoulders, shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Whispers claimed she was not entirely human, and Porsche shared that suspicion.

Her attire, meticulously elegant, stood in stark contrast with the Theerapanyakul dynasty’s red-and-gold splendor. She wore a jacket of deep azure fabric, embroidered with silver filigree that seemed to catch and hold the light. The sleeves flared slightly, revealing graceful wrists adorned with discreet yet sovereign jewels. Her skirt, short but impeccably cut, accentuated her slender, sculpted legs. Altogether she looked both modern and imperial, like a queen whose beauty was an armament of power.

Tears streaked her cheeks; her lips quivered as she addressed the camera. Porsche turned up the volume, straining to catch every word from the prince’s wife.

“Please…” she whispered, “help us find my son.”

More tears streamed down as her voice cracked, raw and strangled with grief. The anchor did not interrupt, letting the footage loop obsessively: Tawan collapsing, hands clenched around a silk handkerchief from Seralis, her gaze desperate, pleading.

Porsche froze. His throat constricted as though her words had been aimed directly at him. Memories crashed down again, ones he had tried to bury under years of silence. Through this cold, impersonal screen, the past had returned unbidden.

Her child was missing. A cry of anguish broadcast across the galaxy.

And he... he who had run, betrayed, abandoned, he was the one who actually held that child, so desperately sought after.

Porsche’s breathing shortened. His dark eyes remained locked on the screen until the pain became unbearable. Only then did he look away, though the echo of her words still rang inside him.

The alien anchor dominated the center of the luminous set, impossible to ignore. Her long, slender frame looked sculpted from luminescent green, almost unreal. Two delicate antennae waved atop her skull, like sensors of unseen energy, while her bulbous, liquid-black eyes fixed the camera with unsettling intensity. Her webbed hands rested on the crystal desk with a poised, chilling grace. Every movement radiated cold composure, a detachment that set nerves on edge.

“The news is devastating, dear viewers,” she announced, her voice calm, perfectly modulated. “Anurak Thanurak Theerapanyakul, heir to the Empire, has been missing for several days. He was last seen aboard a starship during a school excursion, and since then no word has been received. As you know, His Majesty Anakinn and his former consort Tawan are going through a painful divorce… and the loss of their child in the vastness of space only deepens their grief. If you have any information whatsoever…”

The image shifted. The alien vanished, replaced by Tawan’s luminous, haunting presence. The marble pallor of her face stood in sharp contrast to the anchor’s spectral green. Her silver hair rippled down her shoulders like liquid light, every strand reflecting a halo. Her eyes shone with fierce intensity, but it was a human light, fragile, emotive, worlds apart from the anchor’s icy detachment.

Her cheeks glistened with tears, her lips trembled as she spoke once more to the camera, struggling to contain her despair beneath the dignity of an imperial consort.

Porsche muted the sound, unwilling to hear another word from the anchor’s mouth.

Tears welled in his eyes as he fought to contain his emotions. He shouldn’t feel affected. He hadn’t even known Kinn’s marriage was faltering, but he was certain now, the child resting under his care was their son. The son of Kinn and Tawan.

Kira must have been wrong. When he had left, fourteen years ago, he had taken nothing. He had only wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the boy who had lied to him, the boy… the man who had chosen to end the life of their child. Kinn had lied while Porsche had given him everything: his heart, his body, his soul. Even his wildest dreams. He had been ready to face the world for him, to do anything to protect their baby.

Instead, Kinn had been a coward… abandoning him along the way and tearing his baby from him.

Kinn had no right. No right to reprogram Kira to guard the child he had with another woman. He had created Kira as a gift, a silent guardian for his unborn baby. She was meant to be his child’s companion, his Noo.

Kinn had no right. He should have created a new AI for his son, as imperial tradition demanded.

Kinn had no right and Porsche had no right to feel this wounded by the past. It was the past, after all. He had built a new life. So had Kinn. Seeing his wife should not hurt. It had no right to hurt.

Porsche swallowed his tears and exhaled, fatigue lingering in his muscles even after his nap. He hadn’t even finished repairing the transport shuttle. There was still so much work ahead.

For now, he had to find a way to return Anurak to his parents, before an imperial ship tore across Thaloria’s skies.

Porsche remained still for a long moment, eyes fixed on the dark screen. Tawan’s tears had carved deeper marks than he had expected. His fists clenched unconsciously, as though he could contain the pain inside his hands.

“Hia…”

Chay’s voice broke the silence, gentle, but worried. Porsche flinched slightly and turned. Chay was walking down the corridor, squinting at the holographic screen. He was dressed in his air-traffic controller uniform.

“You came back without reporting the mission. I was worried. Yok told me you brought back a child in critical condition from the shuttle. You know that’s against protocol… Anyway, I came to check on you, since you weren’t answering my calls.”

A quick glance at his wrist display confirmed it: several missed calls were logged.

Porsche looked away, unable to answer right away. He shook his head, but the unease on his face was obvious.

“It’s Anurak. Kinn’s child. You must have heard about it.”

Chay grimaced. “The one everyone’s talking about on every channel?”

“Yes.”

“And…?”

“I found Kira aboard. She claims he’s our child. Mine and Kinn’s. The one we lost fourteen years ago.”

Porchay’s face went pale.

“Hia…”

Porsche nodded, as though to convince himself it was true, though his face betrayed his turmoil. Chay followed his gaze, saw the screen still glowing, Tawan’s frozen tears looping endlessly. He understood at once.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and switched off the display. The waiting room fell into shadow, lit only by the overhead lamps.

“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” Chay said softly.

“I can’t look away. Not from what I left… from what I lost.”

Chay moved closer, his hand firm but comforting on his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have to carry it alone, Hia.”

Porsche inhaled sharply, shoulders taut, his body still trembling with emotion.

“I tried to forget, Chay. I thought running would be enough. But nothing ever truly disappears. Even here… even far away… it all catches up with me.”

Chay sat down beside him, leaving a respectful distance, but close enough for Porsche to feel his presence.

“You did what you could, Hia. What you thought was right. You said he hurt you deeply.”

Porsche lowered his gaze, staring at his hands clenched tight on his knees. Silence lingered. Chay watched him, tired, scarred, but alive, and laid a hand gently on his, brushing his palm in reassurance.

“The past doesn’t vanish. But it doesn’t decide your present either. You had the right to build something here, on Thaloria. You didn’t run away.”

Porsche lifted his eyes, his features marked by fatigue and pain, but something in Chay’s voice steadied him.

“You think that… I can fix it? Even just a little?”

Chay nodded, a calm and sincere smile softening his face. “Yes, I believe you can.”

Porsche drew in a deep breath, letting his shoulders ease just slightly. The simple contact, the simple words from Chay, lowered the weight he had carried these past hours.

“And you… you’ll stay by my side?”

“I always will.”

Another silence settled, but this time it was filled, with trust, with warmth, with the certainty that he wasn’t alone. For the first time in a long while, Porsche felt that even if the world crushed him or forced him to remember all he had lost, there was still someone holding him up. Porchay had always been there for him, had even followed him to Thaloria, a world that was never his own. Porsche knew his loyalty wasn’t only because they were brothers.

“Then… I’ll try,” Porsche murmured, a fragile smile brushing his lips. “I’ll try not to let it drown me… not to run away this time.”

“Are you planning to do a DNA test?”

Porsche exhaled slowly. “Yeah… but I don’t think I’ll have the courage to read the results.”

“And if… and if it’s true?”

Porsche flinched, the image of the unconscious boy, so fragile, so wounded, flashing in his mind. Pain bloomed sharp in his chest.

“I hope it’s not… because that would mean Kinn stole my baby from me. That he tore a part of me away. That bastard…” A wave of anger mixed with grief crashed over him. “He had no right… damn it! He had no fucking right!”

Chay held his gaze steadily. His younger eyes, already lined by experience, shone with unwavering compassion. “Whether he’s my nephew or not, he is still the heir of the Theerapanyakul Empire. The son of the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces. You know they’ll come for him.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“You should start by contacting Elyon Prime and telling them you’ve found their crown prince.”

Porsche’s fury ignited. “You want me to abandon my child!?”

Porchay sighed. “We don’t even know if he’s your son. Hia, you serve in Thaloria’s planetary defense forces. If the Empire finds out their heir is here, they’ll come with their full strike power. You swore to protect this planet’s people. You can’t endanger them for your own selfish desire.”

Even if Chay was right, Porsche couldn’t bring himself to do it. Deep inside, he felt this boy was part of him. If he truly was his child… then somehow, impossibly, Noo had survived the forced abortion. He had survived the accident. He was alive, and Kinn had hidden it from him.

Porsche couldn’t hand his child back. This was his baby, his alone. He didn’t belong to that hypocrite Tawan. The whole galaxies could go to hell. He would find a way to keep him, even if it meant hiding at the far edge of space, even if it meant fighting Kinn and his entire army.

He was his, and no one would take him away.

Their eyes met, heavy with all the words left unspoken. Porsche let out a slow breath, his shoulders easing only a fraction. He straightened with a cold edge, shrugging indifferently. “I’ll decide later.”

“Hia!”

Porsche exhaled in frustration, ready to snap back, but the infirmary doors burst open and a Thalorian nurse stumbled out, panic written all over her face.

Both of them turned their heads toward her at once.

“Sir Porsche! The human boy you brought in a few hours ago... he’s gone!”

Porsche thought he had misheard.

How ?

Porchay caught his arm before he could move. “Hia, wait, he can’t be far, maybe-”

But Porsche wasn’t listening. He rushed past the panicked nurse into the infirmary at full speed.

He ran.

The hallway echoed with the pounding of his boots.

He searched every room, every bed, but Anurak was nowhere to be found. Porsche’s heart hammered harder. He didn’t know why this sudden absence pressed so tightly against his chest. Maybe because when he’d first found him unconscious, he had feared losing him again. Maybe Kinn had sent men to take him away. Maybe he’d woken alone. Maybe he had panicked, and tried to run.

Maybe…

“Creator, the young master is safe. He is currently on the hospital roof.”

Kira’s voice halted him in his tracks.

“Kira? That you?”

“It is, Creator. I hacked into the hospital’s central server.”

Following the AI’s directions, Porsche finally found him.

He pushed open a hatch leading to the roof.

And there, he saw him awake for the first time.

Anurak sat motionless on the edge, overlooking the luminous sprawl of the Thalorian canopy. Above him stretched the vast sky, studded with stellar lights, like a black sea scattered with diamonds. The Andromeda Galaxy shimmered faintly in the distance.

A soft breeze stirred the folds of his shirt, and his dark hair glowed under the pale radiance of the three moons.

The sight held Porsche still for a moment, until the boy turned his head and fixed him with wide golden eyes. Those golden eyes… the same as Kinn’s. The same as every member of the imperial family. Back then, he had learned that lesson the hard way…

Porsche lingered in the shadows, watching him. How old was he? Fourteen, if he counted right. Yet he looked younger. Fragile, almost swallowed by the immensity of the sky. And yet, in his posture was a quiet strength, the kind of endurance only someone who had lived too much too soon could bear.

“Hey,” Porsche finally said, stepping onto the roof.

The boy stiffened and tried to rise, but Porsche moved quickly to stop him. “It’s alright. Stay where you are. You should be resting.”

“I don’t need it.”

His voice.. 

Porsche walked closer, his boots scraping softly against the metal roof. He sat down beside him, leaving a cautious space between them. Below, the streets shimmered with warm neon lights, silhouettes moving back and forth like ants beneath glass.

“Why here?” he asked at last.

“Because the air is easier to breathe,” Anurak replied after a moment. “I feel better here. Free. No walls, no machines, no father telling me what to do. Just the sky. How much it was a luxury to be able to breathe natural oxygen. I’d forgotten how beautiful primitive planets could be.”

Porsche followed his gaze. The buildings were well-hidden within the canopy, blending seamlessly into the vegetation in an effort to protect the environment. The trees of this planet rose dozens of meters high, their massive branches supporting homes and structures, because the oceans so often swallowed the land. Life had to be built high above the floods.

In the sky, the stars trembled faintly, unreachable. A knot of sadness caught in his throat.

“You’re not afraid of heights?”

Anurak let out a low laugh, tired, yet sincere.

“No, I’ve always loved heights. I’m alive. Only the living are afraid of falling.”

The words struck Porsche more deeply than he wanted to admit. He turned his gaze away, fixing it on the sea of lights beneath them.

Silence settled, but it wasn’t a heavy silence. It was more like a space where their breaths slowly fell into rhythm, where each heartbeat seemed to echo the other.

Porsche felt a burning in his chest. He drew in a deep breath, his exhale trembling.

The boy’s eyes rested on him, grave, yet gentle at the same time.

Porsche bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to reply, but the words stayed trapped in his throat. So, instead, he simply nodded.

A cold breeze swept across the rooftop, stirring their dark hair. Porsche watched him fold his knees against his chest. His eyes gleamed with a solitary golden light, but his posture betrayed a weariness that went far beyond the body alone.

“Your parents are searching everywhere for you. What happened? Did you get lost? Were you attacked by pirates? Did you leave Elyon Prime without telling anyone?” Porsche asked softly, his voice laced with worry. He still remembered the state of the boy’s ship, questions multiplying in his mind. Why had he made a warp jump? What had happened that forced Kira to activate the dormant code?

The boy hugged his knees tighter, turning his head away. His lips trembled before a whisper escaped them. Anurak didn’t understand why he was answering at all.

“Because… he lied to me.”

His fists clenched.

“My father… Anak—anyway, you must know my identity, and his. You know who I am. Everyone must be looking for me.”

“Yes,” Porsche answered simply.

“My father never keeps his promises. He’s never there. He never told me the truth. I had to figure things out on my own. I knew there was someone else… but he always refused to speak of it. As if I had no right to know.”

Anurak swallowed, fighting the wave of emotion threatening to drown him. Porsche felt his heart split a little more with every word.

“So you ran away,” Porsche said, understanding.

Anurak nodded, his eyes brimming with tears, staring into the void before him.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. Every time he looked at me, it felt like he was hiding half of who I was. As if I were… incomplete. As if I was born from a secret too heavy to ever be spoken.”

His shoulders shook. A tear slipped free despite him. He hurried to wipe it away with the back of his hand.

Porsche watched him, his throat tight.

“You needed the truth…”

Anurak let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“But I never got it. Not from him, anyway. And not from anyone else, my father, my grandfather, my uncles, even the woman who pretended to be my mother.”

Porsche sighed. The sound drew the boy’s eyes to him. And in that moment, something shifted. Anurak didn’t know why, but he felt a warmth from this man, a familiarity. An instinctive security, almost animal, like an echo of something he had never known. A feeling that urged him to speak.

Yet he had just opened himself to him.

And he didn’t even know who he was.

He was a stranger.

And that wasn’t safe.

Anurak pulled back sharply, nearly tumbling off the edge of the roof. He stayed guarded, his gaze hardening.

“Why… why do I feel this way with you? Who are you, really?”

Porsche studied him. The boy’s brows were furrowed, his fists clenched, ready to defend himself if he had to. It was the same look Kinn had worn that day, the same defiance, the same mistrust when Porsche had reached out his hand to help him rise. That same pride, that insubordination…

The sting of that mistrust cut through Porsche, but he didn’t try to erase it. At least Kinn had taught their son never to trust strangers, even if they seemed kind.

“I’m no one who wishes you harm,” he replied calmly. “I’m the one who saved you. Your ship was about to crash into the ocean.”

“Why?” Anurak pressed.

“I just… want to be here for you.”

Anurak hesitated, eyes narrowing as he searched Porsche’s face for any sign of deceit. Every part of him resisted. His body tense, muscles rigid, legs ready to bolt. And yet, another part of him, more intimate, more fragile, felt drawn in.

And it was a feeling he couldn’t explain.

He bit his lip, troubled.

“I don’t understand… You’re a stranger. But… I feel like…”

He broke off, unable to finish. His eyes clouded with tears again.

Porsche moved with slow, deliberate gentleness, as if taming a wild animal. He extended an arm toward him, not forcing, just offering. His eyes glowed with infinite tenderness.

“You’re not alone. You never were.”

The boy froze, fists still trembling, his heart pounding too hard. He hesitated, clutching his knees tighter. His gaze wavered between mistrust and the yearning to surrender. Porsche, however, stayed still, patient, arms open without pressure. Then, with painful hesitation, Anurak inched closer. Each movement cost him. When he finally reached Porsche, his body remained stiff, almost hostile, ready to pull away at the slightest misstep.

But the warmth of the embrace enveloped him. His body slowly relaxed, and tears slipped free, silent and unstoppable, soaking into Porsche’s shirt.

Porsche held him with boundless tenderness, one protective hand cradling the back of his head.

“Why does it feel like… you’re… familiar?”

Porsche closed his eyes, pulling his son tighter against him. He longed to tell him everything now, to reveal the truth. But instead, he gave him this embrace, this refuge.

“Because sometimes,” he whispered in his ear, “we find the truth where we least expect it.”

Anurak’s breathing steadied, soothed by the warmth he had never known. For the first time in a long while, he felt safe. At last, he let go, surrendering to these arms he had wanted to reject, but which, against all logic, felt like they had always been his.

Porsche wanted to know him. He wanted to know his favorite color, his favorite meal. He wanted to teach him to fly in the sky. He wanted to see his face each morning, watch every emotion play across it. He wanted to know if he secretly loved someone. He wanted to make him happy, to free him from the prison of rules where Kinn had confined him. Porsche wanted to show him freedom.

“How about I show you the planet while you’re here?” Porsche asked at last, brushing his fingers gently through the boy’s curls.

“My father…”

“I’ll take care of him,” Porsche replied simply, lifting his gaze to the starlit sky.

And I will never let him tear us apart again.

***

Four hours earlier | Oort Cloud | Milky Way

An imperial flagship cut through the frozen darkness of the Oort Cloud with sovereign majesty. Its hull, sleek and flawless, gleamed with deep crimson and radiant gold, the heraldic colors of the Elyonian Empire. Every surface shone like a polished jewel, every contour sculpted to inspire both awe and fear.

It was a vessel that had, in truth, never known war. It was a symbol of power; its mere existence was enough to strike terror, and its presence heralded death.

Around the ship, billions of asteroid fragments, stellar dust, and blocks of ice drifted in a chaotic ocean of perpetual motion. Yet none ever touched the vessel. Massive gravitational deflector shields wrapped around it like a translucent sphere, glowing with a pale blue shimmer. Projectiles collided against it, scattering into bursts of light before sliding harmlessly away. The larger ones simply glided along the protective field.

On the prow, the golden effigy of an ancient mythical beast, The Garuda, imperial emblem, spread its wings wide, a symbol of eternal power and domination.

Inside, the contrast was striking. Corridors of synthetic red and black marble were illuminated by golden filaments pulsing along the walls like glowing veins. Holographic frescoes projected on the ceiling depicted the Empire’s greatest victories, reminding every officer that they served an immortal dynasty.

The command bridge, at the vessel’s forefront, rose like a throne room among the stars. Circular and vast, its walls were lined with tactical displays streaming constellations, trajectories, and endless data. The floor, polished to a mirror sheen, reflected the rigid silhouettes of officers clad in scarlet uniforms embroidered with golden trims.

At the center, upon a slightly elevated dais, stood the command chair, massive, deep black, adorned with golden accents, crowned by the imperial Garuda. More than a seat, it was a throne. And upon this throne sat Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul, draped in his scarlet uniform. His golden eyes, cold and unwavering, gazed into the void while officers murmured reports around him, never daring to raise their voices.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Nothing but the interstellar void and scattered debris drifting among frozen asteroids.

Kinn closed his eyes, holding back his fury.

There was nothing here.

Moments earlier, he had given the order to jump, despite the risk. The distortion reactors had ignited with a low rumble, a deep vibration coursing through the hull like the beat of a heart. In a luminous tear, space had bent, hurling the imperial flagship into the coordinates sent by his son.

But what he found was silence.

Before them, space stretched into a field of wreckage. Hull fragments drifted in the dark, metallic shards spinning slowly, glinting like stardust. The echo of catastrophe hung suspended in the frozen stillness.

“Sensor report.”

Officers bowed slightly, eyes fixed on their consoles as data scrolled across holograms.

“No active energy signatures, Commander. Only residual traces… a localized explosion, several hours ago.”

Kinn narrowed his gaze, his eyes tracing the debris as if it might spell out a hidden message. His jaw clenched.

“Nira,” he commanded in a low voice, “analysis.”

The AI manifested at once, a feminine silhouette of pale light with fluid contours, clad in the same military uniform as the officers. Her voice, calm and crystalline, resonated through the chamber with absolute clarity.

“The fragments carry the gravitational signature of a distortion jump, Commander. The residual tracers are weak, but still exploitable.”

At last, Kinn tore his gaze from the bay. A web of lines and equations blossomed in the air before him as Nira wove them together with her slender fingers, her calculations intertwining like strands of a luminous web.

“The vessel departed this sector exactly two hundred sixty-three minutes ago,” Nira declared. “I have isolated the distortion particles left in its wake. The most probable destination corresponds to a secondary gravitational corridor.”

Kinn stepped closer to the hologram, the golden gleam of his pupils sharpened by its glow.

“Did you fail to infiltrate Kira’s main server?”

Nira tilted her head. “No, Commander. I cannot breach your son’s AI without the entirety of the parental binary codes. The data I provide is already the result of my infiltration into Kira’s sub-systems.”

Kinn nodded once. “Well. Their new destination?”

A single red point flared in the darkness.

“Exoplanet Thaloria.”

A heavy silence fell across the bridge. Officers exchanged brief glances, caught between dread and relief.

Kinn inhaled slowly, straightening, a glimmer of unease flickering in his eyes.

“So, he wants to keep playing hide and seek. But he forgets, I’ve always found him…” His voice sharpened, issuing command. “Set a course for Thaloria.”

The officers straightened as one. Orders rang out, lights blazed to life, and the ship’s core thrummed once again. Kinn remained still, eyes fixed on the crimson dot suspended before him. His voice fell, low and irrevocable.

“Engage distortion.”

Space folded once more. The imperial warship surged forward like a dark arrow, carving its path toward Thaloria.

The chamber still reverberated with the echo of the jump when a side door slid open abruptly. A man strode in, his hair tied back in a ponytail. He bowed.

“Khun Kinn.”

Kinn turned his head, expression unyielding.

“Big.”

Big bent lower, slightly breathless from crossing the bridge at speed.

“We have located the young master,” he said gravely. “Long-range sensors confirm his presence on Thaloria, a telluric exoplanet in the Dwarf Galaxy 110, Orivann system.”

Kinn was unsurprised. Nira had deduced the same, in less time than it took to say it. Not so far away, Andromeda housed Elyon Prime, while Thaloria orbited one of its satellites, M110.

As if echoing his thoughts, a murmur rippled through the command hall. Officers faltered mid-gesture. Kinn remained perfectly motionless, eyes locked on the holographic globe of Thaloria before him, its blood-red oceans and pink clouds pulsing faintly with each flicker of light.

“According to our sources on the planet, an Elyonian vessel entered its atmosphere hours ago before being seized. There is said to be one survivor, taken to emergency care.”

“Have the Thalorians officials attempted to contact us?”

Big grimaced. “Not yet… Khun Kinn, Thaloria is not under our hegemony. They persist in maintaining their sovereignty as a neutral world.” He added cautiously, watching his commander’s face darken.

“Commander, the Thalorians are a peaceful people. I believe they will soon contact us to return the young master. They would never harm him. They fear conflict, and any diplomatic incident would only backfire on them. There is no need to use force against them.”

A dense silence spread.

“Khun Kinn… I must also inform you, your wife has contacted the media about the young master’s disappearance. She is speaking to them as we speak.”

Kinn ignored this last report, instead responding to Big’s earlier remark.

“Big, force is also a form of deterrence. Send a cruiser to the Orivann system. Show them we are watching. If they do not contact us within the next few days…”

He paused, granting his son a few days more of his little escape. A small reprieve. Then his voice fell, almost a deadly whisper, cutting through the tense air of the bridge.

“We will retrieve my son and erase this planet from the star maps if we must.”

Kinn’s gaze lingered once more on the holographic projection of Thaloria.

And why not add another world to his ever-growing conquest?