The Oblivion Crown hung like a silent god above Echelon-4, its shadow stretching across the jagged terrain below. Inside its command sanctum, Kael sat upon his throne—not the crude war-seats of conquerors past, but the Throne of the Source Stream, now fully awakened and fused to his consciousness.
Power was no longer a concept. It was a current—alive, infinite, and pulsing with ancient rage.
"Sovereign, recall signals have been acknowledged in sixteen sectors."
Kael's vision unfolded across the starmap. Blue pulses marked awakened fleets. Red pulses marked enemy strongholds. But there was one color that intrigued him most—violet.
Violet meant corruption.
Violet meant interference.
"Give me the status of Violet Node A-3."
The AI processed for a moment. "A-3: Located in the Helix Verge. Origin: Neural deviation of former Admiral Xirian—a defected commander of the Black Nebula fleet. He has declared himself the True Sovereign and seized four war-fortresses."
Kael's lip twitched.
"There is no such thing as 'true.' Only 'still breathing.'"
He rose from the throne. His command echoed across the Oblivion Crown.
"Prepare the Specter Legion."
Hours later, the legion assembled in the dark-glass war bay. Over 3,000 silent, visor-cloaked operatives—all cloned from forgotten war heroes, all voidborn and bred to kill with thought alone.
Kael stood before them.
"Xirian was once one of ours. He knows our codes, our philosophy, and our weakness."
Silence.
"He believes defection equals destiny. Remind him it equals extinction."
The Specter Legion saluted in unison.
"As you will it, Sovereign."
Kael turned to his Dreadguard Commander. "And activate the Obsidian Mirror."
"...You wish to broadcast the purge?"
Kael's eyes burned. "I want the galaxy to know what betrayal earns."
Meanwhile, in the Helix Verge, Admiral Xirian knelt before a twisted neural throne—less advanced, more brutal. His body was part machine now, his mind uploaded across three servers. Around him, soldiers loyal only to fear trained cannons toward the stars.
"He will come," Xirian whispered. "But I will show them he is not divine. He bleeds."
But far above, the Oblivion Crown had already emerged—its hull cloaked, its presence masked until it was too late.
And then, death fell from the stars.
The Specter Legion struck at dawn.
They didn't need dropships. They warped straight into the fortress' inner sanctums through compressed breach gates. Swords sang. Pulse blades cleaved. Not a word was spoken.
Xirian's elite never saw them coming.
Kael descended last—through the ceiling, like a god falling through glass. He landed in front of Xirian's neural throne, the shockwave reducing half the chamber to dust.
Xirian rose, blood foaming at the corners of his mouth.
"You were just a boy when we burned your name."
Kael walked toward him.
"And now I burn yours."
Their clash was silent. Blades met in particle storms. Xirian fought like a predator—but Kael fought like extinction.
Within three minutes, Xirian fell.
Kael's sword did not hesitate. Through the neck. Through the code. The neural feedback across the Verge collapsed. Violet pulses died.
The Sovereign turned to the Specter commander.
"Execute all followers. Leave no words behind."
From the core of the fortress, the Obsidian Mirror began recording. Kael stood before it, blood painting his armor, eyes alive with thunder.
"Let this be your mandate."
"To defect is to die."
"To betray the blood is to burn."
"I am the Sovereign. I do not forgive. I only remember."
The video pulsed across every open channel in the Outer Systems. Mercenaries trembled. Colonies went dark. Even Lucien's command chamber received the feed—and for the first time in years, he said nothing.
Only stared.