The battlefield was silent.
The last echo of cannon fire had faded from Vulcan's skies. Smoke drifted above Dock 66, casting long shadows over the shattered remnants of the Dark Elf fleet.
Silas Vire stood atop the Hyperion's lowered boarding ramp, arms folded, flanked by two Predator captains. The air reeked of scorched alloy and plasma-charred blood, but his expression remained unreadable.
Across from him, the Lord of Vulcan approached—broad-shouldered, fire-scarred, dressed not in ceremonial garb but in reinforced furnace-mail, the kind worn by those who worked beside gods of steel.
Without hesitation, the Vulcan Lord extended a hand.
"Captain Vire," he said, voice rough but sincere. "On behalf of Vulcan, I thank you. Without your intervention, our dock would've burned."
Silas shook the man's hand, firm and without pretense. "They were here for me. You didn't have to get involved."
The Vulcan Lord snorted. "They fired on Vulcan soil. That made them mine."
Behind them, salvage crews were already at work, dragging the twisted hulks of the Dark Elf cruisers toward smelting barges. The white-hot glow of the foundry chimneys reflected in the oil-slick puddles on the concourse.
"I assume you'll want compensation," Silas said.
"I'll accept none," the Vulcan Lord replied. "But I will offer some."
He reached into his coat and produced a black and silver card—etched with runic circuitry and the sigil of a molten hammer.
"A Craftsman Association membership. Tier-2. You'll receive fifty percent discounts on all docks affiliated with our guild. And…" He nodded toward the Hyperion and the White Night, "We'll repair and refit both ships. Free of charge."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
The Vulcan Lord's eyes gleamed. "I know a forge-god when I see one. That cruiser of yours—she's a legend waiting to wake. I'd be a fool not to invest now."
Nearby, Celeste Vale—still sipping her ever-present starfruit tea—whistled low. "Free repairs on an S-class warship and a century-old psionic relic? I'm starting to like this planet."
Silas ignored her and accepted the card. "Appreciated."
—
Elsewhere on the dock, the remaining Dark Elf soldiers—wounded, captured, trembling—were corralled by Vulcan enforcers and Iron Rider squads. The Lord of Vulcan walked past them, stopping before their captain.
The elf, bloodied but defiant, hissed through cracked lips, "You've made a mistake. The Night Empire does not forget."
"No," the Vulcan Lord replied, calm as a smith's breath before the strike. "But corpses don't talk."
Without ceremony, he drew a plasma sidearm and fired once. The Dark Elf captain collapsed, his skull smoking.
"Burn the rest," the Vulcan Lord ordered. "Melt their ships into slag. Feed their bones to the furnace."
None protested.
—
An hour later, beneath the rising columns of smog, Silas stood on a high platform overlooking the rebuilt docks. The White Night hovered beside the Hyperion now—its damaged systems already under repair by an army of obsessed Vulcan engineers.
Inside the White Night's command chamber, White Warbler floated in silence, her eyes closed, hands folded over her chest like a priestess in meditation.
"The seed is still dormant," she murmured, sensing his presence before he entered. "But this won't be the last time they come."
"I know."
Silas turned toward a projection of the Void: countless stars, factions, threats. The altar sealed in the White Night's subdimensional hold would draw more than just elves.
Celeste appeared beside him, less energetic now. "So... what now?"
He considered that for a long moment.
"The Ascendancy will hear of this," he said. "The Night Empire has lost a fleet. Their pride will demand an answer."
Celeste nodded. "And you just earned the favor of Vulcan's forge-lord. That'll ripple too."
Silas's gaze didn't move. "Let them ripple."
He reached toward the console, and the system interface blinked open.
[Check-In Complete: Vulcan Conflict Zone]
[Reward Unlocked: Logistics Authority Upgrade – Fleet Command +1]
[New Title Acquired: "Breaker of Night"]
[Reputation Increase – Independent Commanders +20, Vulcan Federation +50, Night Empire –100]
A new icon shimmered on his HUD. Silas smiled faintly.
He had entered Vulcan as an outsider.
He was leaving with a fleet.
And far beyond the Blazing Galaxy, somewhere in the deeper dark, other powers stirred.
The war was not over.
It had only just begun.