The first shot rang out without hesitation.
The Treasure Hunters opened fire.
But Silas Vire was faster.
In a shimmer of kinetic light, the Panther-Class Armor activated and engulfed him in a sheath of dark metal and flickering vibranium-threaded plating. The mercenary lasers slammed against him—and vanished into a pulsing kinetic field.
Behind him, Celeste dropped to the ground. He stood between her and death.
The mercenaries froze.
"What in the Void…?"
Silas clapped his hands once.
"You disappoint me," he said coldly. "I'd hoped you might weaken the constructs for me."
Then the walls came alive.
With a hum of invisible grav fields, hundreds of Predators decloaked.
Reynolds, the avian mercenary captain, felt the hair rise on the back of his feathered neck.
He hadn't been paranoid. They had been watched—every second.
The Predators raised their plasma casters.
Hundreds of reticles locked onto every mercenary target.
Without a word, energy lances fired. The Spirit Golems, weakened and flanked, exploded under the concentrated barrage. Energy cores shattered. Armor plates splintered. Dust fell like ash.
Silas didn't flinch.
He watched. Measured.
One mercenary twitched, lifting his rifle.
A Predator answered with a shuriken—silent, swift.
The man's head hit the ground first.
The rifle dropped a second later.
Panic surged through the mercenary ranks.
"Hold—Hold!" Reynolds barked, arms raised, sweat slick beneath his exo-suit.
They were outmatched. The mercenaries dropped their weapons in surrender.
Silas stepped forward, his panther helmet retracting to reveal his face—calm, remote, sovereign.
He looked Reynolds in the eye.
"Give me the relic key."
Reynolds hesitated, then slowly reached into his coat and produced a disc-shaped artifact glowing faintly with spirit sigils.
Silas moved forward to claim it.
Then—lightning.
Reynolds screamed, unleashing a psionic thunderburst from his gauntlets and diving for a fallen laser rifle.
But Silas was ready.
One punch.
The kinetic blow launched Reynolds backward like a cannon round, embedding him into a pillar.
The birdman coughed blood, his limbs twitching. But even from the floor, he snarled:
"I'll remember this, human. I swear it."
He slammed a spirit-engraved teleportation stone into the ground.
Light flared. Space tore.
And then Reynolds vanished.
Gone.
Silas stood still.
That was a Spirit Jump Stone. Worth over a hundred million Starcoins.
He exhaled slowly. Noted.
Behind him, one of the Predators stepped forward.
"What of the others, Captain?"
Silas didn't even turn his head.
"Kill them."
The cries of the mercenaries didn't last long.
Celeste turned pale, watching the bodies dragged away, the air fouled with carbon and blood. Her voice caught in her throat—but she said nothing.
This was the Void of Space.
Mercy was a currency no one spent.
Moments Later – Inner Sanctum
The disc key fit perfectly into the final gate. Ancient servos whirred to life.
The walls split.
And revealed a long bridge.
Beyond it, not another chamber—
—but a buried ship.
Massive. Obsidian. Silent.
Built directly into the vault beneath the ruins.
"A ship," Silas murmured. "A White Night vessel…"
Celeste stepped forward, stunned.
"They built this place around a starcraft…"
The bridge lit up as he approached.
[Welcome to vessel designation: White Night.]
[Class: A-Rated Transport – Psi-Capable Configuration]
[Owner: None]
Silas stepped onto the control platform and placed the key into the interface.
[Transferring command authority…]
[Authorization complete. Welcome, Captain.]
Control panels awakened. Holograms lit up, displaying ship systems, psionic containment units, cargo schematics… and something strange.
Silas frowned.
Power output… anomalously high for a transport.
Cargo registry… fragmented.
Encrypted spiritual containment field… active.
This was no ordinary cargo hauler.
He'd just claimed something far more dangerous.
And far more valuable.