Two months earlier, Micah had erged from a long seclusion. He had spent more than a month painstakingly carving and refining jade runes, and during that ti he had been unusually quiet. But the mont his work was complete, his attitude shifted. Suddenly, he grew bold—almost arrogant.
The first thing he did was try to provoke Julian. When Julian ignored him, Micah turned his attention to Blackie. That, of course, ended poorly. Blackie was never the type to put up with anyone’s antics, and the two of them ended up clashing again and again.
What shocked everyone wasn’t that Micah picked fights, but that the weakest mber of their group—once barely able to hold his ground—could now battle Blackie to a stalemate. His rank hadn’t advanced a single step, yet his mastery over rune-weaving had grown to terrifying heights. His runes blended offense and defense seamlessly, making his close-range and long-range combat equally lethal. Even Julian, a peak Elysium-rank already brushing against the War God threshold, was dumbfounded.
It wasn’t long before Morzan reappeared after his long absence and thoroughly disciplined both of them. He warned that with the spirit realm’s will currently absent, their constant duels risked collapsing the entire realm. If anyone stirred up trouble again, he promised to beat their skull until it whistled. Micah took the warning to heart and stayed quiet for a ti—but only for a ti.
Today, he couldn’t resist needling Blackie again. He hadn’t ant any harm. He just wanted a fight, a chance to test how much his runes had grown. The spar lasted an entire hour, neither able to overpower the other, both holding back because they knew their full strength could rip through the barrier around the Hidden Territory.
That was when Julian suddenly barked, "You two... stop ssing around. Look at the sky!"
Both froze and instinctively looked up.
The fireball they had been watching for days—once massive, now compressed to the size of a fist—continued to shrink until it abruptly vanished. In its place, a black hole tore into existence, expanding at a terrifying pace. From their distance, it looked no larger than a basketball, but they knew that if they were anywhere near it, the diater would have been asured in billions of kiloters.
Seconds later, the void collapsed, and in its place ca a blinding white flash. The three of them cried out in pain, shielding their eyes as the searing brilliance burned across the realm. The light seed endless, but when it finally faded, the first thing they saw was Morzan hovering in the air, his face identical to Ethan’s.
"They’re coming back soon," Morzan said evenly.
Julian, Micah, and Blackie exchanged glances. Excitent lit their faces. They had been waiting for more than a year. At long last, the return was happening.
---
Ethan stared, stunned and speechless, as everything unfolded before him.
Just monts ago, Shatterstar had completed its long absorption, drawing the entire core of a star into itself. His Infernal Core had been replaced in that instant. Then ca the system notifications—dozens of them—flashing through his mind so quickly he couldn’t keep up. The only one he managed to process clearly was chilling in its finality:
[Beep, beep, beep... Energy system upgrade complete. Energy ratio: 100%. Promoted to Infinite Energy.]
The next mont, a massive light shield burst outward from Shatterstar’s hull. A silent explosion rocked its body, tossing the warship violently before an overwhelming gravitational pull seized it. Ethan’s head spun, his stomach dropping as he looked toward the source of that impossible gravity—
A black hole.
Every story he had ever heard said the sa thing: nothing escaped a black hole. Entering one was certain death.
"Holy crap, we’re about to get sucked in!" he shouted.
"It’s not a black hole..." ca KH3106’s voice.
Before Ethan could ask, the singularity suddenly collapsed in on itself. In its place ca an explosive burst of thrust, paired with another blinding white flash. Ethan felt his skin sting as though it were being peeled away. Then everything went black.
When he finally regained consciousness, Shatterstar was already coasting smoothly in flight mode. He groaned and asked, "KH3106, are we heading back?"
The voice that answered was not what he expected.
[Main pilot KH3106: deceased. All Shatterstar permissions now transferred to co-pilot.]
Ethan froze. "What?"
Shatterstar’s calm, chanical tone confird it: "Yes."
The ship explained, devoid of emotion, "During the stellar quantum collapse, matter and antimatter collided, creating temperatures hundreds of tis greater than a star’s core. The cockpit’s coolant solution instantly vaporized, and the cooling system failed. KH3106’s death was instantaneous. He suffered no pain. Co-pilot Ethan, please accept my condolences. Reset system permissions now; Shatterstar will serve you."
Ethan’s thoughts reeled. KH3106—gone? Just like that? He demanded, nearly shouting, "Didn’t you account for this kind of danger? Was there no safeguard?"
"Maintaining sufficient coolant solution and equipnt functionality is the only safeguard," Shatterstar replied.
"Don’t tell ... the solution ran out," Ethan muttered, his voice low.
"Due to prolonged lack of replenishnt, calculations determined the remaining solution was sufficient for only one cockpit."
The words struck him like a hamr. Sufficient for one cockpit...
Ethan whispered, "Then why wasn’t it used for him?"
"Because at the ti of departure, KH3106 issued a standing command: at all tis, prioritize the co-pilot’s life. He set an automatic return program accordingly."
Ethan’s chest tightened. Slowly, he pressed the ntal command to detach from the pilot’s interface. His consciousness slipped back into his own body, and as the fluid drained from his pod, the hatch opened with a hiss. He stepped out, weakly at first, then steadier, his gaze fixed on the other pod just a few ters away.
He walked toward it, tears gathering despite his efforts to hold them back. One step. Two steps. Three.
When he reached the pod, he found no body inside, no solution—only a sealed hatch and, at the bottom, a thin layer of gray ash. Among the ash lay two objects: a ring and the high-tech watch KH3106 had always worn. Both were forged from the sa material as Shatterstar itself, impervious even to the star’s annihilating heat.
They were all that remained of his companion.
Ethan’s vision blurred. His tears finally fell, slipping silently down his cheeks as he clutched the relics of the man who had given his life so Ethan could live.
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