[Twenty-four vessels detected. Bearing twenty-five point seven eight nine]
Ery stepped up to the forward console. A projection blood across the display—icons marking ships scattered in formation. One massive hauler at the center, five dium escorts, and a swarm of smaller craft around them like gnats.
VIA overlaid their details.
[Registry scan complete. The majority match records of refugee transports departing from the Ceryon Warfront three standard weeks ago. Warning: anomalies detected]
Ery frowned. "Anomalies?"
[Four vessels lack active transponders. No serial code. No manifest. Hull markings are inconsistent with the refugee registry. Probability of hostile vessels masquerading within fleet: ninety-one point seven percent]
His jaw tightened. Pirates or Raiders.
Before Ery could dig deeper, the console flared with an incoming signal.
[Incoming Transmission]
[Azure Kraken to Jawbreaker. Co in, Ironscar. Report]
Ery tilted his head, listening. Jawbreaker. That was the na of the raider ship he’d just taken, and Ironscar—the raider he just killed.
So. The picture was clear.
These so-called refugee transports weren’t free travelers—they were hostages. Raiders had taken them, herding them across space, using civilians as shields while they waited to strike or lure in unsuspecting prey.
The comm crackled again, more insistent.
[Jawbreaker, respond imdiately! Why the silence?]
Ery exhaled slowly. He hadn’t planned to start another conflict. His only concern was getting ho to Earth as swiftly as possible.
mories tugged at him—*Andora, Valaryn. He had seen the broken faces of refugees before. Families displaced, lives scattered. The raiders’ cruelty rekindled a deep irritation inside him.
Still, sentint alone wouldn’t sway him. What tipped the scale was the flicker of data on the manifest: Two of the vessels among the fleets fitted with a warp core.
Previously, it would have taken him two weeks just to reach the nearest Magus Alliance outpost. If he failed to find a faster ans of transportation there, the journey would stretch to five months to reach the Alpha Quadrant, and six to finally arrive on Earth with his current ship. However, if Ery could secure a warp-drive capable vessel, the entire trip could be shortened to only three weeks.
A small smile tugged at Ery’s lips. "That settles it." He just found himself a good enough reason to interfere.
He reached for the comms control, voice steady and unhurried when he reply.
"This is Ironscar," he said smoothly, mimicking the dead raider’s gruff cadence. "We ran into a little trouble—requesting permission to co aboard."
Silence lingered on the channel. Then, at last, the reply ca through.
[Copy that, Jawbreaker. Report in imdiately. Proceed to docking]
A smile ghosted across Ery’s lips.
Ery had already scoured every fragnt of Ironscar’s mory, combing through the raider’s thoughts and experiences. With his innate [Shapeshifting] ability, it was a simple matter to mold his flesh and spirit to match the man’s exact likeness. The scarred jawline, the rough timbre of his voice, even the habitual sneer—the disguise was flawless.
From those stolen mories, Ery pieced together the larger picture. The Blueskull Raiders were no re band of cutthroats; they were a sprawling syndicate feared across several sectors. At their core were two Grand Magus leaders, and at the top of the chain, their captain—already in the second cosmos stage. That was what made them such a persistent thorn in the Magus Alliance’s side. They weren’t just vicious; they were powerful enough to evade eradication.
Normally, Ery wouldn’t have hesitated to confront such a force head-on. His current realm and mastery gave him confidence. But this ti, there were complications. The raiders had seized thousands of innocents—refugees—who were now being used as living shields. A single reckless move could cost lives.
So, instead of charging straight into the raiders’ maw, Ery chose subterfuge.
The comms directed him not to the Azure Kraken—the warship where their captain waited—but to the largest vessel in the convoy: the Nebula Carrier. According to its manifest, it housed more than two hundred crew mbers and over ten thousand displaced souls cramd into its cavernous decks.
As the docking clamps sealed with a tallic thud, a squad of raiders marched in to receive him. The leader, a magus-level bruiser, eyed him with suspicion. "Authentication check," he barked.
"Oi! It’s , Ironscar! Do we really need to go through this nonsense?!"
Ery slipped seamlessly into the role of Ironscar, the sly raider. His movents were asured, his expression sharp.
A dry voice brushed against his mind, carrying a hint of amusent.
It was Grand Magus Vayarel.
Truthfully, Ery had no need for such theatrics. With his current mastery of spirit-reading, none of these raiders could ever pierce his disguise. Their very perception bent unconsciously to his will. Even Vayarel, sitting unseen in the form of a small bronze monkey perched lightly on Ery’s shoulder, went completely unnoticed.
Escorted deeper into the Nebula Carrier, Ery’s eyes scanned everything. The corridors reeked of unwashed bodies and stale air, and the dim lighting barely hid the compartnts cramd with terrified refugees. Young and old, human and hybrid alike, huddled together in silence. Their gaunt faces, worn clothing, and trembling hands cut through the steel mask of his composure, stirring a pang of emotion beneath the surface of his calm exterior.
He could have ended this charade in an instant. With a single sweep of his divine sense, Ery could probe the entire fleet, locate every hidden threat, and dismantle them before they even knew what struck. But such an act was not without risk. The enemy grand magus riding along with the fleet might detect the disturbance of his spirit sense.
So instead, Ery exhaled softly and kept his voice steady, decisive, as he murmured to his companion,
"Alright... let’s proceed with the plan."
The mont Ery gave the signal, shadows stirred. A smoky silhouette slid from his side—Livi, already shifting into her shadow phase. Her form lted soundlessly into the walls, vanishing into the steel veins of the ship. At the sa ti, the little bronze monkey perched on Ery’s shoulder shimred faintly and dissolved, its body folding into nothingness. Vayarel had slipped away, using spatial manipulation. Both allies carried their own tasks, weaving silent threads into the infiltration.
Minutes later, Ery stepped onto the massive command deck. The chamber was a broad circular hall lined with gleaming consoles and navigation arrays. It pulsed with faint blue light, casting sharp shadows over the figures who filled it. Roughly three dozen in all—half were weary Nebula carrier crew, their uniforms crumpled, hands moving stiffly over controls under duress. The other half were raiders, ard and armored, their auras flaring with magus strength as they kept constant watch.
At the center of it all lood a figure who commanded the space with sheer presence—the vice captain of the Blue Skulls, a grand magus realm expert. His bulk was imnse, built like a fortress of muscle wrapped in blackened armor. His eyes glinted with sharp suspicion as Ery approached.
For Ery, it was a test. He walked casually toward the man, his calm confidence never faltering. This was the perfect opportunity to see if his newly enhanced concealnt technique—one that suppressed the truth of his cultivation realm—could withstand the scrutiny of a grand magus.
The man’s voice cracked like a whip across the room.
"Ironscar! What happened?! Where is the rest of your crew?!"
The question was barked with intimidation, but Ery’s express disappointnt instead. It answer it all, the grand magus failed to see beyond his concealnt. With simple probes Ery can see this grand magus was a first-layer cosmos combat brute with the barest scraps of ntal fortitude. No discipline of spirit, no depth of mind.
The man bristled as Ery’s silence dragged on, his irritation swelling into open rage. "By the black suns, are you brain-dead!!!" he roared, stepping closer. His aura flared in a crushing wave of raw force, the kind ant to make lesser n crumble on their knees.
Yet Ery remained unmoved. His calm only deepened, as if the weight pressing against him were nothing more than a passing breeze.
A faint ripple of energy flickered within him—an incoming ssage from his allies.
ca Veyarel’s voice.
Almost imdiately after, another voice broke in. Livi’s tone carried panic, her words tumbling in haste.
Ery exhaled softly through his nose. It didn’t matter. If he seized control of the command deck, everything else would fall into place.
His attention shifted back to the furious grand magus standing before him.
In the blink of an eye, golden light sparked in Ery’s gaze. It began as a faint shimr, then flared sharp, cutting like a blade through the dim chamber.
[Spectral Gaze]
The effect was imdiate. With Ery’s enhanced realm ca an even stronger spirit attack. The muscular raider stiffened as if struck by an invisible hand. Confusion flickered across his brutish features as he struggled to resist. Within seconds, the tremors began—shoulders quivering, hands twitching uncontrollably.
"Who... Who are you!!!"
In desperation, the man tried to activate a defensive artifact. But he was far too slow. Ery was already there, a blur of movent. His hand clamped down on the raider’s shoulder with bone-crushing force, locking the grand magus in place and snuffing out any chance of resistance.
At last, he dropped to one knee, his defenses splintering like brittle glass beneath the crushing weight of Ery’s will.
Ery leaned in, his presence overwhelming, when he spoke with absolute command.
"Now...you will do exactly as I tell you."
User Comments
0 comments from readers