You Already Won

Her blue skin shimmered like starlight filtered through obsidian, each line of her markings alive with faint pulses of power. She was shaped in elegance but tempered in steel, her armor laced with silver circuitry and an ornate core at her chest that glowed with quiet menace. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed most of her face, but her eyes—black, starless voids laced with pinpricks of constellations—pierced through. They did not blink. They did not soften. They simply were.

Older than most, far more patient than all. She had seen ages bleed together, epochs collapse into dust. And though the spectacle of the two Outlanders defeating a glitched entity had been… entertaining, it was not what held her attention. Survival against such anomalies was rare. Even gods, with their scripted divinities, often faltered against the raw chaos of a glitch. She herself had ways to deal with them—but watching mortals claw victory from the impossible always reminded her why she needed to stay vigilant.

The realm itself had grown thinner. The ever-churning scrying pool before her reflected fewer and fewer faces as the tournament wore on. While others in the ring murmured about the battle, she had turned her gaze elsewhere.

Thirty figures had entered the realm. Their arrival drew whispers, even from the warlords and demi-gods who never bowed. They spoke easily, shifting between presidents of fractured nations and CEOs with celestial portfolios, each one wearing the yellow-and-white robes of their allegiance. On the back of every robe shimmered a Ryun sigil for Story, stitched like a brand.

Every robe but one.

She narrowed her gaze, fixing on the outlier. The woman sat apart, clothed differently, but the same sigil still burned on her back.

They were carrying Story into the ring of thrones.

She had been considering whether to depart—Supremes were best avoided, their shadows long, their games endless. Safety, for one of her age, was not cowardice but discipline.

And then a voice cut through.

"Hello, Mi'Lerntra Di Xucruul."

Her eyes turned toward the speaker.

The girl's figure was interesting—youthful and bright, yet walking with the confidence of one who had already drowned gods in their own ichor. Dark auburn hair framed a mischievous smile, green eyes burning with unnatural light. Her attire was garish in its simplicity: a black two-piece trimmed with orange, a cape of twilight hues cut like the tail of a comet, boots marked with golden stars. She looked like a festival witch from some forgotten village, yet her aura told the truth.

Emilia Hornswat Qui Tensigon.

The Penship Outlander.

One of Qui Tensigon's prized blades—her Chronicle Warden, breaker of myths and silencer of names. A being who had killed gods before she ever ascended to join them.

Mi'Lerntra's lips curved in faint acknowledgment, her voice a smooth ripple:

"Ahhh… good cycle, Emilia. The custom abides—first names only, as our forebears decreed. Else the titles we crown ourselves with grow heavier than our thrones."

Emilia smirked, rocking lightly on her heels, unbothered by the gazes around the scrying pool.

"I'm surprised to see the… what's your new name again? Oh right! Occulted Moon. Thought you'd have vanished with the others—given your wisdom and all that."

Mi'Lerntra inclined her head, a courteous smile unfurling across lips painted in starlight.

"I have not yet lost my interest, Hornswat. Even moons find cause to linger when the sky is restless." Her eyes glimmered, reflecting Emilia's flame-green stare. "What, then, is the purpose of this encounter we find ourselves in?"

"Glad you seem so excited," Emilia said, her grin curling.

Mi'Lerntra did not move. She merely stared. Silence hung between them until Emilia's voice cut through again, lilting and bright.

"Well, as you know, the other Families have been rather naughty—unfair, even—to the natives and the competitors. Not to mention how they've treated you 'gods.'"

The sarcasm in her tone dripped like honey. The others around the pool murmured, pretending not to notice, but every gaze tilted their way.

Mi'Lerntra's head tilted slightly, a crescent smile ghosting her lips.

"And what," she asked softly, "would the grandiose Qui Tensigon receive in return? Even if we all surrendered our realms and worshipers, it would be but a single seed cast into a forest. Hardly nourishment for such a large ecosystem."

Emilia's smile sharpened. She leaned forward a fraction, eyes gleaming with that unsettling mischief.

"You definitely check your boxes off before purchasing, don't you? But you see, my wonderful, sincere Lord only wishes to bless those who'll help guide this tale. To add clarity where there is chaos, justice where there is cruelty."

She lifted her arms, cape fluttering, her voice pitched to carry like a performance:

"She would spread favor across the realms—bolstering natives who've been trampled, competitors who've been cheated, and yes, even you 'gods,' who've been cast aside like obsolete relics. All lifted, all blessed… if only you'll stand beside her."

Mi'Lerntra's smile deepened, but it did not reach her eyes.

"So generous. So noble. A savior's charity, dressed as gift." She inclined her head the barest fraction. "But I have not forgotten that blessings from Supremes are written in ink that cannot be washed away. No gift without a ledger. No favor without chains."

Emilia let the silence linger, then laughed lightly, as if Mi'Lerntra's suspicion were a compliment rather than rejection.

"Do as you please. I don't mind. But sooner or later, you'll see that her way is the only way forward."

Mi'Lerntra's gaze drifted back to the scrying pool, dismissive yet amused.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll watch and see whose forest burns first."

"Is that a threat?" Emilia's aura leaked outward, orange and golden, pressing against the edges of the scrying pool.

Mi'Lerntra did not flinch. Her star-flecked eyes held steady, her voice calm and unbothered.

"I was merely saying I shall see how I fare on my own endeavors. I mean no ill will toward your Family—or toward your Lordship."

The words were soft, but their weight was unmistakable: a refusal, wrapped in courtesy.

Emilia scoffed, the smirk back on her lips. "Well, we'll be around. So if you change your mind—or want to crawl out of your burning forest—we'll be here."

She spun on her heel, cape flicking like a flame, and drifted toward the other thrones, already weaving her voice into the crowd, already fishing for eager ears to fold into their "Story."

Mi'Lerntra watched her go, her breath measured. Yes—this was the right path. Let the Supreme Families play their theater, spinning folklore into chains. She would walk elsewhere.

Her plan was already in motion. Her followers had made contact with the Blood Prince. And if all unfolded as she intended, she and that fractured heir would sit across from one another very soon.

Until then, staying far away from whatever tale Qui Tensigon's brood was stitching was the safest choice.

———

Sšurtinaui woke in a room that was… hard to describe. Odd. Too odd. And she was wearing a blue jumpsuit-like outfit.

The bed was wide and comfortable, draped in silks that breathed warmth, yet the walls bent and shifted like panes of glass suspended in water. One side resembled a window overlooking an endless void; the other swirled like the inside of an aquarium, shapes darting just beyond clear sight.

She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself upright, long strands of white hair trailing behind her like a ghost's banner.

"What the—"

The door hissed open. A creature shuffled in, no taller than her hip. Its ears formed a perfect circle around its head, twitching and rippling in uncanny rhythm. White and blue cloth wrapped around its small body in a neat uniform, the fabric bearing sigils she didn't recognize.

It stopped at her bedside. When it spoke, its voice wasn't from a mouth—it came from its ears, vibrating in a chorus that made the room hum.

"How are you feeling?"

Sšurtinaui blinked. "Umm… fine. Who are you?"

"I'm Bebele. And before you ask—yes, you're on a ship. And yes, as you can see from my attire, this vessel flies under the authority of the newly named Occulted Moon."

Her brows furrowed. "Newly named?"

"Yes. Only a few years now."

Her mind churned. A few years? That name wasn't one she associated with any of the Families.

"And my team?" she asked, careful with her tone.

Bebele's ears fluttered cheerily. "Oh, the Blood Prince and the rest of that odd group. Yes, they are here as well, and they'll be very happy to see you awake."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you helping… us?" She wasn't sure she should have asked it aloud, but suspicion pressed harder than gratitude. Her body was still healing from Calmbrand's assault, her Ryun levels low.

Bebele didn't falter. "We help because our goddess commands it. We do as she asks, nothing more, nothing less. And given the situation with this event, we were the perfect ones to come to the Prince's aid."

Sšurtinaui opened her mouth to probe further—"Are you with—" but she stopped herself short. Too much information. Better to measure before giving anything away.

She exhaled, leaning back against the headboard. "Well. I thank you for your help. May I see my team now?"

"Why of course!" Bebele's ears perked with glee. "I was just waiting for you to ask. I'll fetch them immediately."

And with that, the little creature waddled out. Waddle. Waddle.

Sšurtinaui sighed, dragging her hand down her face. "What in all the realms happened while I was asleep?"

Thunk.

She smacked her forehead against the headboard. "I didn't even ask how long it's been."

The door creaked again, and Bebele returned—if "returned" was the right word. Sšurtinaui studied him more closely this time. No eyes, no mouth, no nose. Just that strange perfect ring of ears circling his head, twitching like petals in a wind she couldn't feel.

"Well," he said, the voice reverberating out of the ear-ring, "turns out I'll be taking you to them."

Her glare sharpened. Every instinct told her to prepare a strike, even weakened as she was.

"Please don't assault me, Sšurtinaui," Bebele said lightly.

Her hand froze. "…How do you—"

"If I were an enemy, why would Magjesti and North openly say your name?" His ears rippled in something that might've been a smile. "Now, close your eyes. It'll make the movement easier."

She stared, her distrust thick enough to choke on.

"Elves," he sighed. "Always so suspicious. Come on."

Her lips pressed into a line. He knew her name. He didn't radiate bloodlust. And the room had been… safe, unnervingly so. She weighed the odds—her body was still weak, her Ryun low, and she needed answers more than she needed another fight.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Her voice came quiet, steady. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days," he answered without pause.

Three days. She breathed slow. If danger lingered, it wasn't here—not yet.

"I'm ready," she said at last.

"Good." Bebele tilted slightly, his ears vibrating like a chord being plucked. "Ahem. Bibbel lebbib Bibbel."

The world folded.

When Sšurtinaui opened her eyes, she was no longer in the shifting aquarium-room. A wide table stretched before her, lit by lanterns that burned with steady white flame. The air hummed with familiar energy.

And then—an embrace, sudden and fierce, wrapped around her before she could even steady her vision.

"YAY! You're awake!"

Caroline's aura flooded over her, pressing like warm sunlight against skin, smoothing the ache in her bones. Comforting. Steady. The scent of her hair, the grip of her arms—it anchored her back into the moment.

Sšurtinaui exhaled against her shoulder, a rare smile flickering. "…Caroline."

"I'm so glad you're ok!" Caroline's voice was full of relief. "I was worried when two whole days went by, but North and Tinny said you'd be fine!"

Sšurtinaui hugged her tighter, letting herself sink into that warmth for a breath. "Thanks for saving us. You have my gratitude."

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Bebele's strange, ear-born voice cut in. "So precious. How you humanoid types express emotion—it is fascinating."

"Shut up, Ears!" Caroline snapped.

Bebele chuckled, the sound echoing oddly through his ring of ears.

Sšurtinaui's eyes flicked from one to the other. Caroline met her gaze with a look that said plainly: These guys are cool. Trust me.

After a quick briefing, she pieced together the picture. North had detonated the field in their last clash, but Jack and Calmbrand survived the blast. Then the Occulted Moon had arrived—Bebele eagerly added that their "Occulted Moon" was a new name, only a few years in use. Both Caroline and Sšurtinaui glared him into silence before continuing.

Their captain had spoken with North. Calmbrand had teleported away.

Sšurtinaui sighed, her chest tightening at the thought of Caelus—the Calmbrand—his cursed blade biting into her aura. She still felt the ghost of its cut inside her soul. A monster. Then the fact North and this Jack had fought him evenly only proved how far the balance of power was tipping against her.

Caroline thumped her head with a soft palm. "No negative thoughts. Anyway—they'll help us, because—"

"Our goddess," Bebele interrupted smoothly, "simply wishes a meeting with the Absolutes Jujisn."

Caroline spun on him. "You gonna keep interrupting?"

"I won't be ignored," Bebele sang.

"I'll shove my fox tails into every single one of your ears—"

"That's fine," Bebele said cheerfully. "I breathe in other ways."

Their argument threatened to spiral, Sšurtinaui cut through, her voice firm. "Where's North?"

Caroline stopped mid-step, ears flicking. "He should be here—"

The door creaked open. A boy in black hawk attire strolled in, lazily sucking on a popsicle.

Sšurtinaui blinked. "You're not North."

"Nah," he said, raising the stick. "I'm Jack."

"Oh, right." Caroline waved. "Sšurtinaui, meet Jack. Jack, Sšurtinaui."

"Sup."

"Hello. And… thank you for helping with the Calmbrand."

Jack snorted, sharp and unbothered. "Fuck that guy."

Despite herself, Sšurtinaui chuckled. Caroline rolled her eyes.

"Was North with you?"

"Nah," Jack said around the popsicle. "He was talking to Ozzy."

"Ozzy?" Sšurtinaui frowned.

"Our captain," Bebele cut in, his ring of ears fluttering with satisfaction.

Sšurtinaui glanced at Caroline, then back at Jack. Jack raised a brow. "What? Why you lookin' like that?"

"She's just… seeing if you're with us," Caroline muttered. "And don't worry we had a stern talking-to about teamwork."

Jack sucked noisily on his popsicle, glancing away. "What? I'm going through character development. Plus, to be fair, we didn't even know each other. It was basically—"

"Jack!" Caroline snapped.

"What? I'm just—"

"Jaaack!"

"Fine, fine." He lifted his free hand in surrender. "I'm sorry, alright? Don't worry. I'm on your side." He plopped into a chair, arms crossed like a sulking child.

Caroline leaned close to Sšurtinaui, whispering, "Don't worry. North's stronger than him."

Sšurtinaui nodded faintly.

"Alright, everyone, take a seat," Bebele said, his ears vibrating like a drumroll. "The captain and vice-captain, plus the Blood Prince, are about to arrive."

Jack squinted. "How can you tell?"

"I can tell. I'm special."

Jack smirked. "I think I'm pretty special too."

Bebele twitched his ears.

"But you have no eyes or nose. How do you see or smell anything? I've been wondering that for the past two days."

"And you have a nose. A very small nose."

"Hey!"

Caroline and Sšurtinaui laughed quietly, listening to the two bicker.

Then the door behind them opened. Pressure rolled into the room like a tide, heavy and familiar. She didn't even need to look—she felt the weight before she saw him. Arms slipped around her shoulders, a head settling against hers.

"Finally awake, huh, elf?"

Sšurtinaui smiled under the pressure, closing her eyes. "I think I deserved some rest after everything."

"Yeah, you're right. But you're not allowed to scare us like that again."

"I'll try," she sighed. "The opponents you awaken are… terrible."

That earned a laugh from the others.

"Where's Tinsurnae?" she asked.

"Sleeping," came the answer. "Her body's still trying to adapt around that sword the blue-haired guy—"

"Calmbrand!" Caroline piped in.

"Shut up, Mag. Anyway—she's working through its curse. Apparently, she adjusts better when she's asleep."

"Like hibernation. Course for Lord Rhan."

Caroline cut in. "That's Tinny, not her god-form. Don't twist it."

A new voice interrupted.

"Can I cut in, or is this a bad time?"

Sšurtinaui turned.

A man stepped through the doorway—dark-skinned, dressed in all white, hood shadowing his face. Dreadlocks slipped past his shoulders, and a glowing carved X pulsed in his forehead like a living wound. A blindfold wrapped over his eyes, yet the grin he wore carried the same gravity as every being of power she had ever met.

In fact… standing near him felt like standing next to North.

"My bad Ozzy," he said easily, his smile widening. "Just glad the elf's alright."

North finally released Sšurtinaui, ruffling Caroline's hair with his other hand. Caroline laughed and shoved him back playfully.

Jack just stared.

"Hiyo! I'm Ozzy, captain… and humble Jenga champion."

"Jenga?" Sšurtinaui blinked.

"Oh, it's this wonderful—"

"We don't have time for that, Captain."

The words cut clean through Ozzy's cheer. Sšurtinaui's gaze snapped to the side, locking on the woman who had appeared as though the room itself had invited her in.

She was beautiful—no, that word didn't do her justice. Her teal-and-white hair shimmered like living flame, twisting with streaks of violet and ember-light. Crimson eyes glowed like fractured stars, set against skin traced with indigo markings that pulsed faintly with power. Her crown of molten red coral looked less like an ornament and more like something grown from her essence, regal yet warlike. And her armor—a sculpted lattice of blue and silver—clung to her form as if forged for her alone, exuding strength and grace in equal measure.

Sšurtinaui felt the weight of her presence immediately. Not as overwhelming as Ozzy, but leagues above her own current standing.

"Oh, Tabia," Ozzy sighed dramatically. "It's not every day you can spread the good message of Jenga!"

Bebele clapped loud, an awkward applause.

"This is why I love you, Bebele!"

"Of course, Captain!"

North chuckled from his chair. "Alright, let's get serious. I'm taking my seat."

Bebele nodded, ears flicking rapidly. "The Blood Prince is right, Captain. And I'm sure the Vice Captain would agree we should get this underway! And I shall take my leave."

Caroline smirked, watching him go. "That was so unnecessary."

At the table, Jack sucked on his popsicle with a loud crunch, his jaw tight. He wasn't laughing.

After much interruption, bickering, and more than one sharp look from Tabia, the dysfunctional meeting finally began in earnest.

Everything became clearer once Ozzy put on his "captain voice" and steered the conversation straight, to catch Sšurtinaui up: the Occulted Moon's goddess, Mi'Lerntra Di Xucruul, had requested a meeting to discuss a potential partnership. The name alone was enough to set Jack and North off—"That name is still ridiculous," Jack muttered, to which North added, "Sounds like a curse and a cough at the same time."

Tabia's red gaze turned sharp at once, her aura flaring with restrained disapproval. But Ozzy smoothed the tension with a laugh, waving his hands like he was juggling invisible Jenga blocks. "Names are like flavors, friends. Some bitter, some sweet. This one just happens to stick to the tongue!"

Tabia exhaled slowly, folding her arms, and let the matter die. The meeting rolled on.

What Mi'Lerntra offered was simple but weighty: guidance and aid. A goddess extending her hand through her chosen emissaries, and more than that—a pledge of intervention. In return, all she asked was recognition and alignment, a tether between their efforts and her will.

To prove their sincerity, Ozzy and his crew promised assistance in completing the tournament—any way the Blood Prince's group saw fit.

North leaned back, arms crossed, processing it all. Three days had passed since they'd been picked up, three days of rest and recovery that felt like an impossible luxury after the chaos of that mini war arc. He had laughed more with Ozzy in that short span than he had in months. It reminded him of his friend Marcus on Earth. A memory he pushed away quickly. And while Tabia's devotion to Mi'Lerntra ran hotter than a forge, he couldn't deny her discipline, her efficiency. She was the shield to Ozzy's blade.

Sšurtinaui leaned forward, her voice calm but cutting through the chatter.

"What do we do about the gems?"

Caroline froze mid-gesture, ears twitching. Her eyes went wide.

"Oh—darn. Totally forgot you weren't there for that convo."

Sšurtinaui's brow furrowed. "What?"

North exhaled, heavy. "We decided to leave the gems completely."

"What?!" Sšurtinaui nearly stood from her chair.

"That's what I said!" Jack chimed in immediately, slamming his popsicle stick down like it was evidence.

North's glare snapped to him. "You are not old enough to speak on the council."

"I'm eighteen!"

"I'm twenty-six!" Ozzy added cheerfully, throwing a fist in the air. Tabia didn't so much as glance at him, her face an iron mask.

"Elf of Varics," Tabia began, her tone calm but carrying the weight of judgment. "This event is now a death match. The best course of action would be to eliminate all the other participants."

Caroline cut in quickly. "We can't do that. We aren't mass murderers." She paused, lips pressing thin. "…Okay, not mass murderers without reason."

"And half that reason is self-defense!" Jack shouted, eager.

Sšurtinaui let out a long breath, shoulders tight. "I agree with Caroline. A final battle with another team feels different than outright slaughter. But if we abandon the gems… then what is our actual objective?"

Ozzy shrugged, loose and casual. "I'm just a blade you point in a direction. Orders are orders. I was told not to interfere. Ain't that right, my little T?"

Tabia ignored him with practiced grace. "It was a suggestion, nothing more."

"All good," North muttered, leaning back in his chair, arms still crossed.

Caroline cleared her throat. "Right. So basically, Sšurtinaui, once Tinny's awake, we'll finish my quest. We already divided teams. Ozzy, Tabia, and North will go after Vari Jujisn—"

Sšurtinaui's eyes snapped to North, but he raised a hand, motioning for her to let Caroline finish.

"—and me, you, Tinny, Jack, plus some of the Moon members—"

"Occulted Moon," Ozzy cut in with a grin.

"—Occulted Moon," Caroline sighed. "We'll finish my side quest: [Side Quest: Black Bloom Alchemy]. We've got the ingredients thanks to them. Now we need to deliver them to the Whispering Tree for judgment. North wanted Tinny with his group, but this works."

Sšurtinaui nodded slowly. It made sense, though the thought of abandoning the tournament's main prize still burned. She wanted victory for her fallen comrades.

North's eyes pinned her. "We can loot gems off corpses once the fighting starts."

Her head snapped up. "Stay out of my thoughts."

"Don't wear them on your sleeve," he countered.

Jack sighed loudly, glancing between them. "So when's this happening?"

Ozzy's grin widened. "Right now!"

Every single voice in the room, even Tabia's, rang out in unison: "NO!"

Caroline leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "North, are you sure meeting Vari Jujisn—Destiny, or whatever she's calling herself—is smart?"

North tilted his head. "First off, call her Destiny. That's what she prefers. And second, yeah. It's fine. Me going alone would honestly be best. And Caroline…" He smirked faintly. "We nearly died for that damn quest. You better complete it."

Caroline laughed despite herself.

Ozzy raised his hand. "So! Plan of action, just to summarize—divide and conquer." He clenched his fist dramatically.

"No." Tabia's voice cut sharp. "Divide and build resources before the battle. The other clans and organizations want the Blood Prince dead, on top of Civen."

"You seem very well-informed about this 'current situation,'" Sšurtinaui said, narrowing her gaze.

Tabia nodded once. "We were informed by our goddess. Chosen for our strength, but that strength won't tip the scales too much. So information makes up for that. Besides, if we were too strong, Emperor Jafar Overseer would not have let us pass."

North's head lifted suddenly, eyes alight. "Wait—was the overseer beautiful? Red and green hair?"

"Yes," Tabia said simply.

"Drop-dead gorgeous!" Ozzy sang.

"Xizelen," Tabia finished, voice level. "The White Room Slaughterer."

North's lips curled into a smile. "Didn't know she was still watching over me. I'll have to repay her once I'm out of this game."

Caroline and Sšurtinaui exchanged wary looks.

Jack scowled.

"Back on topic," Tabia said firmly, reclaiming the air. "Civen and her gods want you dead. Her next move will be to unite the last of the participants… and rally those who came here solely to slay the event."

"Ugh!" Jack threw his hands up, popsicle stick snapping in half between his fingers. "Let's just make it simple. Finish the quests on both ends, meet up, then go on the offensive."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What?!" His voice cracked with frustration. "All this back and forth is useless. We're in a death match. You can excuse the killing however you want, but the outcome's clear, isn't it?! Or am I trippin'!?"

For the first time, Tabia's lips curved into a chuckle. "I agree with you."

North exhaled long through his nose. "Fine. That was your free pass, Jack. But you're right. Let's get these plans out of the way and bunker down."

Caroline leaned back. "Hope things actually go according to plan this time."

Sšurtinaui sighed, giving in to the moment, and rested against Caroline's shoulder. Ozzy stretched his arms overhead, grin wide.

"Alright then. Meeting adjourned. Let's go eat some waffles!"

A cheer went up around the table—everyone except Sšurtinaui and Tabia, Sšurtinaui blinked in confusion.

"Waffles?" she whispered.

Caroline leaned close with a conspiratorial smile. "Trust me. His waffles are divine."

Jack nodded furiously. "Best I ever had, and I eaten a lot of places."

Before Sšurtinaui could respond, a shrill alarm blared through the ship. Red light strobed across the chamber.

Ozzy's grin sharpened. "Seems brunch'll have to wait." He glanced at the wrist-mounted scanner glowing against his robe. "Someone…." His expression didn't falter, but his voice dropped into something colder. "Correction—not someone. Someones."

With a hiss of air, a blade materialized in his grip. Sleek white, black-handled, it thrummed with restrained power.

With a single swipe, Ozzy's blade carved a clean crescent into the ship's inner wall. The metal screamed, but instead of air rushing into the sky, the ships shimmering Ryun barrier rippled across the breach, holding the atmosphere steady like liquid glass.

Sunlight bled through the opening. Beyond it, the sky was alive with movement.

Forty ships. Two banners. Both closing in. Their silhouettes filled the sky like teeth in a hungry jaw. Engines flared, weapons bristled, formation tight as a noose.

Ozzy's grin widened, teeth glinting like ivory in the gloom. "Ahhh," he hummed, voice carrying like a hymn through the barrier. "Finally."

Without hesitation, he stepped through the breach. His foot landed on nothing—and yet it held. He walked on air as though the sky itself bent to cradle him. Every stride left a faint ripple of light beneath his boots.

The crews in the ships clearly saw him, a lone figure draped in white, dreads trailing, scar gleaming with pulsing energy. He raised his blade above his head. The Ryun etched into its edge blazed alive, runes crawling like fireflies through the steel.

Behind him, everyone pressed to the breach, watching.

Caroline whispered, "He's walking into forty ships like they're flies."

Jack beside her cleaning his teeth on the last splinter of his popsicle, muttering, "So when I do this it's too much. But it's fine when he does it."

North leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Well one it's his ship. Two, Tabia looks pissed so he'll probably hear about it later. Lastly," he smirked. "He's gonna show us why he's captain."

Ozzy's laugh cut through the silence, carried by power rather than air. His voice thundered across the fleets, echoing in every ship, every cockpit, every soul watching.

"Which one of you bastards wants to dance first?"

The sky lit with answering gunfire.

Ozzy licked his lips, scar blazing. "Let's get this party started!"