CHAPTER 10: "HEROES RETURN" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

BY WILLIAM WARNER

CHAPTER 10: "HEROES RETURN" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

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Back at Money Creek, the once-mighty mech stood like a fallen titan, its joints hissing with escaping steam and its outer plating scorched from the battle in the skies. Deep gashes tore through its armor, exposing shattered servos and fried neural wiring. When we tried to activate the auto-repair sequence, the system sputtered and died, its core reactor emitting a faint, irregular pulse—like the last heartbeat of a dying beast. We knew then it wouldn’t walk again. There was no time for salvage. No parts to spare. We left the mech behind, half-submerged in the creek's muddy banks, a broken monument to a battle won by inches.

Money Creek was quiet again, as we emerged from the cockpit, and began our descent to the ground.

The cicadas hummed, filling the forested riverbank with their steady metallic rhythm. The water murmured along the rocks, oblivious to the battle-worn mech crouched like a titan at the tree line. Its armor panels steamed from residual heat, blackened in some places, scorched in others. A silent giant among suburban serenity.

I sat on a moss-covered boulder, my left arm wrapped in a cooling nanogel sleeve. The skin-tissue beneath still throbbed from the overload of the neural feedback system, but it was healing—slowly. The sun filtered through the trees overhead, casting flickering gold over Deathskull as he worked beside the river, his slender fingers manipulating a holotablet that glowed with streams of crimson and green data.

“We really left a crater in the Wraith,” I muttered.

Deathskull said nothing. He was focused. Eyes behind his bone-gold mask, scanning the probes he’d launched into the atmosphere just minutes ago. Three of them zipped past the clouds in silent arcs, spraying Earth’s surface with scanning pulses.

He didn’t look up when the beeping started.

I did.

The display on his holotablet spiked violently. Red bars rose like towers. Circular glyphs formed at the edges of the screen and began to rotate—counterclockwise. The data streaming across the screen was jagged, inconsistent. Something below the planet’s crust had disrupted the scan.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, rising slowly, my boots crunching twigs.

“An anomaly,” Deathskull said. His voice was low, more curious than afraid. “A power source. Deep underground. It’s unstable, old, and somehow... waking up.”

I leaned over his shoulder. The scan image was fuzzy, distorted by strange feedback loops. The coordinates blinked just west of our location—somewhere beneath the central plains.

“You think the Greys had Wraith-related tech?”

He hesitated. “Maybe. Or worse.”

The air around us seemed to change slightly. Charged. As if the very soil below knew we’d glimpsed something that had remained hidden for eons.

But there was no time to investigate. Not now.

“We need to return to Vikingnar,” I said. “We’ve got to warn the others.”

Deathskull nodded. “The portal we used on the mech is closed. But the drop ship still has enough charge to breach orbit.”

We turned toward the clearing, where the drop ship sat like a sleeping hawk—sleek, gunmetal gray, and humming softly in the afternoon light. Its triangular wings caught the sun as we approached. The loading ramp hissed open at our presence, the engines already cycling into pre-launch mode.

Honey barked softly from within the ship, poking her head out. The proboscis monkey chattered nervously, still shaken from the recent battle.

I climbed the ramp and strapped into the command chair, rotating my injured arm carefully. The ship’s controls recognized my biometrics and began aligning our flight path back to orbit.

Deathskull sat beside me, already patching in coordinates for the return to Vikingnar—our fortress star system, our last stand against the tide of corruption flooding the galaxy.

The ship’s engines rumbled beneath us.

Through the viewport, I watched Earth shrink away as we lifted off. The trees fell below the clouds. The rivers became silver lines across the green. And the anomaly beneath the surface—whatever it was—remained buried in silence.

But I had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of it.

We broke through the atmosphere and entered the stars.

Back to war. Back to Vikingnar.

And whatever waited for us in the cold between worlds.

The stars shimmered across the ship’s viewing canopy—slivers of frozen light against the abyss. Inside the cockpit, everything hummed with life. The red instrument lights danced across the metal panels, casting a dim glow on our tired faces. The engines whispered low as they cruised on auto, gliding silently through the folds of space.

I sat beside Deathskull, staring out into the void but not really seeing it. My mind wasn’t here. It was somewhere else. Somewhere warmer. Somewhere simpler. A house in the hills. A girl in the morning light. Green eyes.

“Was it a mistake?” I asked, my voice low, barely louder than the ambient thrum of the ship.

Deathskull turned slightly, the gold bone of his helmet catching the red light. “Was that a mistake?”

“Kissing Serenity,” I said. “Back in the Wraith.”

There was a long pause.

Then Deathskull let out a low sigh—mechanical and dry. “Yeah,” he said. “It was.”

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temples with one good hand.

“She kissed me first,” I muttered, defensive even now.

“She did,” Deathskull said with no sympathy. “And you let her.”

I bit my tongue. My chest tightened.

“Emily wouldn’t be pleased,” he added, “assuming she’s still waiting for you.”

That hit me harder than it should have. I stared at the floor of the cockpit, letting the silence wrap around my bones like ice.

“What’s wrong with me?” I finally asked.

Deathskull didn’t respond right away. He adjusted a control, muting the engine drone in the cabin, then turned to me fully.

“She’s gotten into your head,” he said. “Maladrie. The Goddess of Excess. She doesn’t need to conquer you in battle. She only needs you to drown in every craving, every impulse.”

I frowned. “So how do I fight that?”

Deathskull folded his arms. “You don’t fight it with guilt. That only feeds her. You fight it with purpose.”

I stared at him. “How do I stay loyal to Emily... when I’m filled with lust?”

“That’s not a question for me,” Deathskull said. “That’s a question for her.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at the monitors. They reflected in his golden visor like ghostly glass. “We’ve been gone longer than you think.”

My stomach dropped. “How long?”

There was another long pause.

“Seven years,” he said quietly.

The air left my lungs.

“No,” I breathed. “No way. We didn’t time-jump that far. We were—Deathskull, we were only gone a few days.”

“Time is irrelevant in the Wraith. The deeper we traveled into the hell realm, the more distorted our perception became. On Vikingnar, and Earth... seven full years passed.”

I couldn’t speak.

The silence pressed down on me. I could feel the blood draining from my face. Emily... waiting, hurting, giving up. Or worse—moving on. Marrying someone else. Raising children I’d never know.

I clenched my fists. My injured arm flared with pain, the pilot neural link still healing in ragged pulses beneath the skin.

“She’s all I have,” I said through my teeth.

I sat back and stared at the void.

“Then we go home,” Deathskull said with a nod.

He leaned over the console, entering a new sequence. The ship responded with a hum of power, rerouting toward Vikingnar. The star map folded inward as the drive wound up to lightspeed.

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said. “You’ll get your answers then.”

I didn’t move.

Outside the ship, the stars stretched thin, then vanished into streaks as the drop ship ripped through space, chasing a world and a woman I wasn’t sure still remembered who I was.

But I had to find my Emily so she could save me from myself. Emily is the only woman I trust, love, and like.

The stars outside shimmered like broken glass scattered across a void. Vikingnar was still far ahead, hidden behind a curtain of interstellar gas and fractured light, but my thoughts were lodged firmly in the past—in Earth’s soil, in ancient ruins, in gods that once ruled and fell.

I leaned back in my seat, the ship humming as it coasted through warp.

“Deathskull,” I said, my voice low, nearly drowned by the engine’s subtle vibrations. “What do you know about Grey's technology? And why the hell was some of it buried on Earth?”

Deathskull tilted his masked head slightly, eyeing me from across the glowing interface. His fingers tapped through a few layers of telemetry, then paused. “Not much,” he admitted. “There are fragments of old archives—banned texts, celestial manuscripts. I've seen illustrations. Diagrams. Tools beyond comprehension. Their language was clean, geometric... almost like music carved into glass.”

I could see the flicker of concern beneath his hollow eyes. Deathskull wasn’t one to admit uncertainty, but the Grey’s—those ancient architects—were a mystery even to him.

“They had a god,” I said slowly. “Or something like it. I saw him. Caged. Weak. Dying… trapped beneath the Hag’s palace. Maladrie—she killed him. Not with brute force. She consumed his meaning. She devoured belief.”

Deathskull went still, his posture suddenly rigid. “If the goddess of excess is strong enough to unmake a god of the Greys… then she’s metastasizing. A corruption on the latticework of reality itself. And if the Greys fell under her shadow, there’s no telling what else has.”

My breath caught in my throat. “She’s spreading, Deathskull. She’s not just influencing hearts or minds—she’s fracturing civilizations. This isn’t just about Earth, or Vikingnar, or even the Red Dragon Empire.”

He nodded grimly. “It’s a cosmic plague. Gluttony in spiritual form. We’ve seen her minions— Wraith-demons, but she’s using them to test the hull of our dimension. Every breach weakens the veil.”

I clenched my jaw. “Then tell me. How do we fight Her & The Shark People, all at once?”

The air felt heavier. The ship’s lights dimmed slightly as Deathskull tapped into the command terminal. A schematic bloomed across the display—a massive coil-shaped engine once designed as a Wraith filter. We had used a smaller prototype of it before to stabilize portals and keep rogue entities from breaching.

But this… this was different.

“We supersize it,” Deathskull said quietly. “Convert the Wraith device into black hole. Feed it dark energy. Instead of keeping things out, we turn it into a gateway. A one-way hole. Anything corrupted, infected, or interdimensional gets sucked in. Hive fleets. Shark aberrations. Wraith demons. All of them get sucked into the hell dimension.”

He looked up at me. “We bait them. Let them think Earth is still vulnerable. When they descend, we open the maw.”

I stared at the schematic. The device’s radius would devour half the planet. Earth’s crust would collapse into its own imploding metaphysical event. Nothing would survive.

“It’ll destroy the Earth,” I said flatly.

Deathskull didn’t blink. “Yes. But it might save the galaxy.”

I leaned forward, gazing into the schematic as if it held my soul. Earth—home, battleground, grave—was a small price to pay for the salvation of trillions.

“I’m in,” I said. “But we need to meet with Emily.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. I could still feel her presence like a ghost at my side—fierce, calculating, stubborn to the end. She might be the final piece to this puzzle, the variable Maladrie hadn’t accounted for.

We had no time to waste.

Deathskull was already keying in the coordinates. Signals reached out across quantum currents, searching for Emily’s last known signature. Somewhere out there—maybe in Vikingnar’s dark cities or drifting among Red Dragon satellites—Emily was waiting. Or fighting. Or hiding.

The planet of Skaalandr stretched wide beneath a pale blue sky, its jagged cliffs and crystalline trees catching the late morning light. Wind coiled around the mountaintop like a silent sentinel, brushing against Emily’s skin as she climbed higher, carrying a bundle of white-bloomed veyla flowers in her arms—flowers that only grow once a year on the edge of winter. Each step up the stone path was slow, deliberate, as if her soul weighed more than her body. The silence of the ascent mirrored the quiet ache within her, a pain that had no outlet, no clear name. Grief had matured into a hollow calm, but it still clung to her like frost.

She reached the summit, a narrow bluff lined with obsidian stones, where Serenity’s grave stood—carved from luminous onyx and inscribed in the ancient tongue of Skaalandr. Emily knelt beside it, placing the veyla flowers at the base, letting her fingers linger against the cold polished surface. Her breath trembled.

“I miss you,” she whispered to the stone, voice breaking under the weight of suppressed emotion. “I miss both of you. Every day.” Her eyes fluttered shut as if seeking Serenity’s spirit somewhere in the back of her mind. “Why does everyone I care about vanish, or die, or... change?” Her voice dropped to a murmur, tears lining the corners of her eyes. “Please. Please... just bring him back. Bring William back.”

Emily collapsed into a quiet sob, arms folded atop the grave marker, her shoulders shaking in the mounting wind. She hadn’t cried in weeks, holding herself together with sheer resolve, but the emptiness now breached the dam of her strength. She stayed there, motionless, eyes shut.

Then a tremor beneath her palms made her flinch. A subtle vibration thrummed through the earth. Emily looked up.

The tombstone pulsed with an unnatural glow—silver at first, then a violent burst of iridescent holy light. A shockwave radiated outward, hurling petals and leaves in every direction. The stone cracked down the middle, not with violence but with divine force, the kind that made the air feel heavy and clean. Light spilled from the rupture. Then—emerging as though born from the sun—came Serenity.

Her form shimmered like glass catching moonlight, armor plated in gold and white, her eyes glowing with Wraithfire. She hovered inches off the ground as the light slowly ebbed, and Emily backed away in breathless awe.

Serenity’s voice was soft but radiant, echoing with subtle power. “Emily... don’t be afraid.”

Emily stared, paralyzed. “H-How? You were dead. I buried you myself—how are you—?”

Serenity descended, feet gently touching earth. “William and Deathskull brought me back. They gave me a gemstone —made by the Lord of the Wasps—that was capable of restoring souls from Wraith-bondage. It called me back.”

Emily looked down, overwhelmed. “So... he’s alive?”

“Yes. But not safe.” Serenity walked forward, her boots crunching the stone. “There’s a growing evil in the Wraith. Maladrie’s.”

Emily blinked, her face tightening. “I’ve heard of her. I read about her perverted behavior in manuscripts.”

“She doesn’t just seek pleasure,” Serenity said gravely. “She thrives on excess—on the surrender of identity through pleasure and indulgence. It’s how she converts people. She can corrupt a man’s loyalty without a sword, make him betray the one he loves without even knowing he’s been unfaithful.”

There was a long pause.

Serenity looked down. “I kissed him. In the Wraith. Not out of desire... but to test him.”

Emily’s heart slowed. Her stomach churned. “What... Did he do it?”

“He hesitated,” Serenity admitted, her voice growing quiet. “He didn’t pull away. His memories of you—of Earth—are being unraveled slowly. Maladrie is trying to make him forget why he fights. He’s slipping away from you.”

Emily stepped back, her mind spinning. She wanted to scream, to cry, to punch the air. Instead, she whispered, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s not too late,” Serenity replied, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “He’s still himself... but for how long? If we don’t act soon, he’ll be lost forever. You’re the one tether he has left.”

Emily turned away, clenching her fists. The wind picked up again, as if the mountain itself was listening.

“What do we do?” she asked, voice sharper now.

“We prepare,” Serenity said. “They’re coming soon. And we have to be ready... not just for a reunion—but for war.”

Back on the drop-ship…

Madeline stood before me in the dream, her presence familiar—too familiar. She wore a sleek black dress that shimmered like oil beneath moonlight, its fabric hugging her curves with a confidence that once made her magnetic. Her dark hair framed her face in soft waves, her tan skin glowing gently, and her eyes—deep, dark, bottomless—fixed on me with a gaze that stirred old feelings I didn’t want to admit were still buried in me. Her black leather thigh boots clicked softly on the dream’s unseen floor as she stepped toward me, lips curling into a smirk.

Everything about her felt too perfect. Too rehearsed. Too calculated.

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing—not with affection, but hunger. The dream shifted around her. The space dimmed. A pressure filled the air, and the soft warmth of the forest glade evaporated into a dry, sulfuric heat. Her body shuddered, and I stepped back.

The transformation began slowly. The soft tan of her skin deepened, rippling as if something beneath the surface clawed to be let out. Her once-caucasian complexion flushed into a deep, molten orange, like sun-baked rock. Dark veins surfaced across her shoulders and thighs, pulsing with unholy rhythm. Her eyes—once dark and soulful—became pits of black glass, empty and bottomless.

Two thick horns erupted from her forehead, curling back along her skull like a ram’s, ridged and bone-white at the tips. Her smile widened unnaturally, revealing a forked, writhing tongue that flicked at the air like a serpent tasting blood.

Then her jaw unhinged.

Mandibles slid outward from the sides of her face, spidery and sharp, twitching slightly. Her mouth was now a chasm of jagged, obsidian teeth layered behind the fangs—inhuman, glistening, carnivorous.

Her dress dissolved away like ash caught in the wind.

Now she stood in a black leather bikini—sinister in design, as if made from the flayed hide of something ancient. It clung to her like armor meant for seduction and slaughter. Her boots remained—black, tall, and gleaming—unchanged, still part of the cruel iconography she now embodied. The glossy leather hugged her muscular legs, every inch of her exuding dominance and decay.

She was still humanoid… but only barely.

She advanced again, and the world twisted with every step she took—colors bleeding into each other, the sky above darkening with each exhale she made. I tried to move. I couldn’t. I was frozen—caught between who she was and what she had become. My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.

Madeline was gone.

What stood before me now was Maladrie—the Demonette of Excess, the goddess of lust warped into horror.

And she had come to haunt me.

I tried to step back. I couldn’t move.

My heart pounded. My breath was shallow. The air tasted like rust and perfume. The dream turned into a nightmare I couldn't escape.

Then—light flashed.

Emily appeared from the dark.

Her armor glinted like starlight, hair whipping in phantom winds, her expression fierce. Without hesitation, she lunged forward, sword drawn. The blade plunged into Maladrie’s throat, and black ichor sprayed across the scorched glade. The demon shrieked, writhing. Emily ripped the sword free and slashed downward, cleaving open Maladrie’s back, sending tendrils scattering like torn curtains. A final flash of silver, and the demoness dissolved into ash and smoke.

The dream faded with her death. The glade melted into darkness. I felt peace return. A quiet hope. Maybe—just maybe—Emily was my anchor. Maybe she always had been.

“Wake up.”

Deathskull’s voice cut through the haze of sleep like a blade. My eyes shot open.

He leaned over me, his skeletal mask lit by the blue glow of the ship’s overhead lights. “You were shaking,” he said plainly. “You okay?”

I wiped sweat from my brow and sat upright. “Yeah,” I muttered, voice groggy. “Just a dream... a bad one.”

Deathskull didn’t press. He nodded and turned back toward the front of the ship. “We’ve arrived.”

The cockpit windows displayed the curvature of Skaalandr below—a tapestry of forests, deserts, and jagged red mountain chains. Twin suns hung on opposite ends of the sky, bathing the planet in dual shadows and shifting light. The clouds shimmered with golden edges, and the winds danced like living currents across the treetops.

I stared in silence, heart slowly settling. Despite everything—despite war, Wraiths, demons, and dreams—it was still beautiful.

Skaalandr hadn’t changed.

We pierced the upper atmosphere, the drop ship rattling slightly as energy shields flared against atmospheric friction. Below, I could see spires of viking cities rising from the cliffs and waterfalls, long bridges of obsidian threading across the landscape like veins of black lightning. Everything was as I remembered—and more. There was something sacred about this world, as if the land itself remembered the blood spilled on its soil, and the legends written across its sky.

Deathskull adjusted the console, and our descent became smoother. “We’ll be landing near the hangar,” he said.

My stomach knotted. Not from fear—but from something deeper. I hadn’t seen her in what felt like ages. What would she think of me now, after all I’d been through? After what Serenity told her?

I looked out the viewport again, trying to calm the whirlwind in my chest. The drop ship soared over rivers and vibrant groves, its shadow a fleeting blur across the peaks.

We were almost there.

And for the first time in a long time... I didn’t know what kind of reunion awaited me.

Thunder grumbled in the distance, low and continuous, like the growl of something ancient disturbed in its sleep. The sky had dimmed unnaturally, shifting from sapphire blue to a moody charcoal, and then—without warning—the rain began.

It came hard and fast, sheeting down against the drop ship’s hull, blurring the viewports. Lightning danced between the hills as the vessel touched down near the outskirts of the forested ridge that overlooked one of the river valleys. The place had once been familiar. A serene world under the banners of the Vikingnar civilization. Now, it seemed altered—shrouded in something quiet and ominous.

No welcoming party. No patrols. Just the storm. And that’s fine with me.

The landing ramp creaked open, hissing as the cool air swept inside. I stepped into the rain, my boots sinking slightly into the saturated soil. The storm hit me like a baptism—cold, cleansing, and merciless.

And there she was.

Emily stood in the rain, just past the clearing—alone. Motionless. The wind tossed strands of her soaked hair across her face, her dark leather suit clinging to her frame beneath the downpour. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, her boots planted firmly in the mud, as if she’d been standing there for hours.

I froze.

Our eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, everything else—storms, wars, gods, and demons—faded into a low hum behind the sound of rain.

Emily didn’t speak. She simply walked forward. No hesitation. No questions. The moment she reached me, she threw her arms around my shoulders and buried her face into the side of my neck. Her body was shaking, but not from the cold.

“I knew you’d come back,” she murmured, her voice cracked with emotion. “Nobody believed me.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the smell of rain in her black hair and the warmth in her embrace. The weight of every brutal moment I’d endured in the Wraith, every hallucination and false promise, seemed to dissolve in her presence.

“I’m here,” I whispered back, my voice raw and tired. “I made it back.”

Emily pulled away only enough to look into my face. Her expression was unreadable—part relief, part lingering doubt, but there was no anger. No judgment. Just a hundred unspoken thoughts behind green eyes.

“You look like hell,” she said softly.

I gave the faintest hint of a smirk. “You should see the other guys.”

Her lips tightened into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Come on,” she said, reaching for my hand. “You and your... friends can come to the house. You need to rest. And we need to talk—somewhere dry.”

Deathskull stood still at the top of the ramp, silent and unreadable behind his skeletal helm. He didn’t argue, didn’t object. He simply followed as well as Honey & the Monkey. We turned toward the winding trail through the rain-slick forest path that led to Emily’s homestead.

The trees swayed violently in the wind as if whispering warnings in a language older than the soil itself. Even through the dense curtain of water, I could see the glow of her home—faint golden light from the windows, flickering like the last embers of a fire waiting to be stoked again.

As we reached the front porch, Emily unlocked the heavy metal door and led us inside. The warmth hit me instantly. The hearth was lit, casting flickering shadows across wood-paneled walls and woven rugs. A pot of something herbal simmered on the stove. Shelves were lined with relics and books, dried flowers, old weaponry, and framed photos that time hadn't managed to erase.

The storm outside raged on, but here—it was quiet.

Trailing behind us was Honey, the loyal old dog with her shaggy, golden-brown coat, tongue lolling as she panted through the doorway. Right behind her was the Proboscis monkey we’d picked up along the way—a lanky, curious creature with wide amber eyes and a nose too large for its own good. It darted inside with zero hesitation, scampering across the floor, chittering like it owned the place.

Emily’s expression was flat the moment the monkey hopped onto the back of the couch and began knocking over a bowl of fruit.

“Oh no,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Absolutely not.”

Without needing further explanation, Deathskull, ever the efficient one, casually opened the side door that led straight to the jungle canopy. The monkey gave one last bark-like hoot, leapt off the couch, and disappeared into the green wild with zero regret or hesitation.

“I already have enough pets,” Emily said dryly as she shut the door. “The dog. And you.”

Her words caught me off guard for a moment, but I couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at my lips.

Deathskull didn’t react to the joke—he simply knelt beside Honey, methodically stroking her side with a kind of mechanical gentleness that somehow looked perfectly natural. Honey flopped onto her back with a happy grunt, her tail thumping against the hardwood floor.

Emily turned toward me as I peeled off my soaked cloak, her expression shifting again. Not softer, but steadier—more resolute.

“We’re not out of this yet,” she said, voice low. “You might be back, but whatever’s coming... it’s not done with us.”

“I know,” I said, meeting her gaze. “That’s why I came back.”

She nodded once, then turned away to prepare the fire for a long night.

I looked out the window as lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the dark clouds above Skaalandr.

Something was coming.

But now… I wasn’t facing it alone.

Still in Emily’s house, the gentle hum of the rain outside created a calming rhythm against the windows. The storm hadn’t let up, but inside her home, there was warmth and stillness. Emily led me down the hall into her room. It was neat but lived-in—books stacked beside the bed, a holographic display still paused on some star chart she had been studying.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes watching me carefully. I took a breath, steeling myself before speaking.

"What's wrong Willy?" Emily said, as a sweet caring mother.

She knew what to expect. About Maladrie. About the Wraith.

"That twisted dimension tried to warp me—body and mind. I fear falling in love with you again because I didn’t want to lose control, to become something I hate. I don’t want to betray someone who saw the good in me," I said.

Emily didn’t flinch. She listened, her fingers gripping the leather of her jumpsuit tightly. When I finished, she stood and took a step toward me.

"Just tell me, you love me," she whispered.

At that moment, something shifted. Her presence wasn’t just comforting—it was magnetic. All the feelings I thought had been broken or buried began to rise again, not tainted by the Wraith’s illusions, but fueled by something real. I started to feel desire—not warped or manipulated, but focused, genuine, and grounded in the connection we shared.

Emily, dressed in her sleek black-and-white leather jumpsuit and thigh boots, looked sexy. My sexual appetite for Emily's body had risen. My feelings towards her were stronger than I remembered. Her dark hair shimmered under the room’s soft lights, and her green eyes locked with mine, unblinking, unwavering.

She moved closer and placed a hand gently on my chest. Her warmth, her presence—it cut through all the noise that Maladrie had forced into my mind. The hunger that witch tried to infect me with faded like fog in sunlight. What I felt now was satisfaction.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, burying my face in her shoulder as I whispered,

"I loved you. I always had."

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her forehead against mine, whispering something that made me smile.

"Finally."

We kissed—slow, deep, real.

Emily then whispers into my ear, "I can make sure you'll always stay true to me, silly Willy."

Emily still looked stunning in her black & white leather Jumpsuit, and black leather thigh boots. I reached down to grab Emily's butt. Her butt which felt nice in my grasp. I playfully lifted her up and laid her onto the bed. It wasn’t frenzied or reckless. Emily tried to crawl away upon landing, but I grabbed her leg, and pulled it back. I started caressing her black leather thigh boots.

Emily stuck her butt out, and said, "I guess my leather is sexier than Maladrie's".

"You're sexier than that hag, or any other witch that tries to seduce me" I said with urgency, as I undid my pants.

I then find a zipper at the back of Emily's butt, unzipped that area of her suit to reveal bare cheeks. I immediately grasped her cheeks which were soft, pliable, and strong. I then got a whiff of her butt, and licked her porcelain skin. I kneel up, I put my cock into Emily's butt, and I humped her for hours.

I could hump her for days, years, or forever.

Outside, the storm continued to pour, lightning dancing in the distance. But in that moment, inside her room, the war, the gods, the Wraith—it all disappeared.

Only we remained.

The next day on Skaalandr, the clouds still lingered like a heavy shroud, draping the sky in smothering gray light. The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, but a cold mist clung to the air, brushing against my skin like static from an old machine. I could still smell the remnants of ozone and scorched metal from the freak storm that had appeared and vanished without warning. This world didn’t follow the natural rules—it had its own rhythm, strange and unpredictable.

Emily walked beside me, her stride strong, shoulders back, head held high. She looked like someone who had survived the collapse of ten worlds and was ready to face ten more. Her black and white leather jumpsuit gleamed in the damp light, the form-fitted armor catching on the filtered sun that broke through the cloud cover. Every time I glanced at her, I felt a strange mixture of comfort and tension—comfort because she was here and real, and tension because I knew how close I’d come to never seeing her again.

Deathskull walked just behind us, silent as ever, his movements precise, calculated. The slight hum of his power core was the only sound he made as we moved. He didn’t talk, didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to keep curious onlookers at a distance.

As we passed through the streets, I could feel eyes tracking us from every angle. Windows fogged with breath as people watched from inside, some faces wide-eyed with disbelief, others narrowed in fear or awe. No one spoke directly to me, but I caught fragments of whispers, half-hidden in the shifting wind. One voice stood out, a hoarse murmur from a woman clutching a bundle of synth-cloth close to her chest: “He came back from the Wraith.”

I kept walking, ignoring the chill that crept up my spine. They didn’t understand. No one did. Coming back from the Wraith wasn’t just about surviving. It had changed me—fundamentally. I wasn’t the same man I’d been when I left. My senses felt sharper. My instincts moved faster than my thoughts. There was something in me now, something that didn’t belong, something I was still trying to define.

We approached the capital building, Emily didn’t slow down. Her focus was like a laser—straight toward the mission, straight toward the answers.

As we climbed the wide staircase to the main entrance, I noticed a flicker of movement from above—watch drones hovering in near silence, scanning us with red pulses. None of them moved to intercept. They knew who we were. Or maybe they were just waiting to see what would happen next.

The grand entrance parted with a low hiss, revealing a corridor bathed in pale red light. The air inside was charged, dense with energy. I could feel it thrumming through the soles of my boots, a deep pulse like the heartbeat of the planet itself.

Inside the central chamber, a massive holographic map hovered in the air. Stars spun in measured arcs, systems blinked with coded markers, and thin threads of red drew lines between known conflict zones. But in the middle—there it was. The rift. The place I’d been taken. It had grown. Its edges were fractal now, like a wound tearing deeper with every passing second.

Emily moved to the central console, downloading mission briefings, sifting through encrypted communiqués. I could tell by the way her jaw clenched that something was wrong—something worse than before. She didn’t need to say it. I could feel the tension building inside her like pressure in a sealed chamber. Skaalandr wasn’t safe. And the enemy we thought we understood was evolving.

Deathskull stood at the far end of the chamber, unmoving, his optical sensors flickering in a slow, rhythmic pattern as he scanned for threats. He was reliable, a fortress of steel and logic. No emotion, no hesitation.

I walked toward a wide observation window that overlooked the city. The view was surreal—streets gleaming in the wet light, the buildings shimmering with semi-organic panels that flickered like the skin of a creature dreaming. From this vantage point, everything looked peaceful. But I knew better.

Beneath that surface, something was stirring.

The Wraith hadn’t just taken me. It had left something behind. A trace. A hum. A frequency that I could feel vibrating just beneath my consciousness. I wasn’t entirely human anymore. Whatever I’d touched, whatever had reached out and reshaped me, it had rewired part of my soul. And I didn’t know if I could ever go back.

Then I heard it—a low rumble in the distance, faint but distinct. I looked up and saw the sky fracture into black. A ship descended slowly through the mist, sleek and jagged like a blade, its surface absorbing light instead of reflecting it. No markings. No signal broadcast. It didn’t belong to any faction I knew.

The silence stretched until Deathskull noticed it.

“That’s one of Cybrawl’s ships,” he said.

I turn to Emily in confusion.

“Why is there a Cybrawl vessel stationed outside?”

“Your Droid L-84 will be joining us for the briefing,” Emily said, as she turned towards the door.

She gestured for us to follow, so we did. We continued to walk through the balcony/walkway, and I noticed the skeleton of a dragon was still present, soaring above the lobby floor. I will never view dragons the same way. I got to witness a real flesh & blood dragon in the Wraith. I paused my stride, and I just gazed at the beast's skeleton. Lost in thought.

I guess I have been looking too hard. I had no recollection of my surroundings until Emily crept up behind me to hold my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know, a dragon helped us escape the Wraith,” I said. Not knowing what to speak of next.

I could tell there was a sense of urgency in Emily’s eyes. Although, she was still understanding, “Come, we can share stories later.”

With that, we walked into the briefing chamber, which was the same briefing room as we left it. There were a few minor adjustments though. A lot of the lights in the room were a warm hue, and holographic screens were once fluorescent ultramarine, now give a crimson glow. In fact, a lot of the lighting in the Capital glows crimson. Same goes for street lights on Skaalandr. I didn’t mind the changes, since I found red to be a pretty color. Although, I had to ask?

“What’s with all of the red hun. Seems very festive?”

“A lot can change in seven years.” Emily said, as Serenity appeared with Droid L-84 at the door way. She turned her attention towards them. “Good you’re here, please take a seat.”

Emily then struts to the panel to activate the holoscreen. While clicking a button, the briefing chambers doors automatically close. I was a bit confused.

“Is anyone else coming?” I asked laced with concern. I began to wonder why the love of my life was taking a lead in mission control rather than Joseph. “Where’s Joseph?”

“Joseph is dead, Will.” She said, in a calm tone.

I was shocked and I didn’t even know what to say. How can a grizzled warrior like Joseph die? I guess I didn’t have a damn clue on how rocky things have gotten during my tribulations in the Wraith! Emily could visibly see the confusion, fear, and shock across my face.

“Yep.” Emily continued to speak in a neutral relaxing tone. Although, she escalates the volume of her voice. “He died a few days later after you two left. Joseph was tasked with securing a peace treaty with the Red Dragon Empire. Only to be imprisoned and flayed to death.”

Emily was already sitting next to me, although she leaned in to say something valuable. Everyone else was silent. “I was left to continue a war against the Knights. Even after trying to be more open to the Red Dragon’s culture. After re-branding our crest, our banners, our style. Being more welcoming to their citizens meant nothing to their imperial rule. I was left to rule Vikingnar, and lead its people into battle myself. Since I didn’t have a general to lead armies.”

The shock went away, I was frustrated. Not with Emily, this whole situation. I was really adamant on making Vikingnar a galactic republic. Although, with a twist of events, my woman was left to her own vices, and thought she could run a galactic civilization on her own. Why? I have no idea.

I looked at Emily, and she had that sweet look in her eyes. I just knew that this mess wasn’t on her.

Was it on me?

Partially maybe.

Something happened while I was away. “What happened?” I asked with confusion laced with frustration. “I thought you were going to establish the first galactic constitutional republic. Instead of doing it the outdated way?”

Emily sighed, and began to scratch her head. I still pressed her for answers.

“Like what happened? And wasn’t Valrra supposed to help you?” I continued, and soon realized Valrra had something to do with my poor Emily being left to handle everything on her own. Emily looked down when I asked, “Where’s Valrra? Deathskull assigned her to help you?”

Emily sighed. And with her head down she says, “Valrra is in jail Will.” She looked up at me with innocent eyes. “She’s imprisoned on Cybrawl.”

I turned towards the glass table, leaned over to rest my arms, and could feel a migraine rising. I just took a deep breath to ease my anxiety. “Why is she in jail Emily?”

Emily points assertively at Droid L-84. Almost aggressively, she says, “Ask him.”

If robots had emotions, I would say that Droid L-84 had the posture of a stiff, frightened child. The droid still managed to speak. “I was investigating how I time traveled to Earth through a regular Wraith portal. How we time traveled. All of my leads came back to Valrra, since she’s in charge of containing & maintaining the Immortals in the Vault.”

I was struck back by this information, as well as relieved. Since I don’t have to obliterate my favorite droid. Although, I was still apprehensive. Is Droid L-84 explaining what I suspect?

“Are you saying she kidnapped me?”

“Not only that, she may have been the individual responsible for placing a gift for Emily. The same gift that was in your bag, the first night you stayed at Skaalandr.” Droid L-84 seemed to be confident in his statement.

With a look of caution I ask, “So you’re saying Valrra helped the Immortals escape. Staging it as accidents you were blamed for?”

Droid L-84 answered right away, “Yes.”

I sighed in disgust, anger, and confusion. “Ok?” I said not knowing what to expect. “That would make Valrra a pathological liar. We were all in agreement that Subi placed the extra canister in my suitcase.” I said, as I rested my face on my left hand, leaning over on the table. At that moment I just stared off into space.

“Is there anything else I should know about Valrra or the immortals?” I asked as Emily placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Yes. From my observations I’ve noticed that every Immortal chooses its host, and will reject anyone who isn’t viable enough to merge with.” Droid L-84 faintly looked at Serenity, everyone did. “That’s probably why the attempt to merge Serenity with an Immortal, failed the first time.”

I sighed and I realized we’re going to have to put the mystery of Immortals aside. “Ok, we will deal with this matter later. We still have enemies to face.”

The lights inside the conference chamber were dim, casting long shadows across the high-tech glass table that dominated the center of the room. Its surface pulsed faintly with red lines of energy, feeding into a slowly rotating projection of Vikingnar’s star systems, each flicker of light denoting a planet on the brink. The air was heavy, tense—thick with the unspoken weight of recent events and what was still to come.

I sat at the head of the table, Emily on one side of me, Serenity on the other. Deathskull and Droid L-84 stood near the entrance, both silent and motionless, their glowing optics scanning the edges of the room. None of us had said anything for a while. We didn’t need to. The silence spoke for us—grief, fatigue, and the pressure of responsibility pressing down like a vice.

Emily broke the silence first, her voice quiet but resolute. She leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing a line on the glowing table. “You asked me how I handled the Shark People and the Knights,” she said, her green eyes distant. “I remembered something you told me… about how sharks respond to sound more than anything else. So I sent out the probes. Lured their fleet away from Vikingnar. Straight toward Red Dragon’s territory.”

Her confession settled in the air like dust. I stared at her, reading the quiet guilt in her posture. She wasn’t proud of it—it had been a brutal, calculated act. But it has saved lives. And she’d done it because I wasn’t there.

Serenity looked down, her fingers laced tightly in her lap. She was still adjusting to being alive again, and the darkness in her eyes hinted that she remembered far too much from the other side. “They’ll retaliate,” she murmured. “Red Dragon won’t forget this.”

“I know,” I said, finally breaking my silence. My voice was low, grounded in something deeper than anger. “That’s why we can’t just sit here and wait.”

I reached into my coat and pulled out the chunk of Shungite, setting it on the table. The smooth black stone seemed to drink in the light around it, humming faintly with a hidden energy.

“This,” I said, “is going to be the key. Deathskull, I want you and L-84 to head back to Cybrawl. Start replicating this in bulk. We need it to finish the Wraith Device. If we can stabilize it… maybe we can stop the demons from bleeding into our world.”

Deathskull gave a subtle nod, and Droid L-84 responded with a soft, electronic chime. They both understood the gravity of what I was asking.

I looked at Emily and Serenity, my jaw tight. “While they’re handling that… we’re going to York.”

Emily’s brow lifted slightly. Serenity’s eyes narrowed.

“We don’t need a war,” I continued, “but we need a presence. York is close to Red Dragon’s sector, and it’s an important trade hub. If we can get a foothold there—if we can show strength without declaring open war—they’ll hesitate before trying anything again.”

Emily didn’t speak right away. She stared into the holographic stars above the table, her expression unreadable. I could see the weight of the last few months in her eyes. The fear. The waiting. The hope.

Finally, she nodded.

None of us smiled. There was nothing to celebrate yet. We were all worn down—me from the Wraith, Serenity from death, and Emily from carrying everything alone.

But I was back.

We were together.

And we weren’t going to lose again.

The meeting had come to a close, but the energy it left behind buzzed through the corridors like static in the air. Outside the capitol building, the shipyard pulsed with activity. Viking warriors, both human and hybrid, were assembling in the rain-slicked plaza, their boots echoing against the stone as they lined up in precise formations. The storm had passed, leaving the air dense and humid, the sky still bruised with shifting clouds. The scent of ozone lingered.

As the warriors prepared for deployment, Emily and I made our way through the long corridors beneath the capital—hallways lined with glowing sigils, steel supports, and traces of ancient Vikingnar craftsmanship embedded into the walls. We slipped into the armory room—a chamber that smelled of steel, gunpowder, and synthetic leather.

The lights were low, flickering slightly above racks of advanced weapons and body armor. A long table stretched across the center of the room, cluttered with gear and data tablets. Emily leaned against the edge, pulling back her dark hair into a tie and adjusting the belt above her thighs. Her black and red jumpsuit creaked slightly as she shifted her weight.

"I know we’re ready," she said, glancing toward the wall-mounted screen displaying deployment schedules. "But I just wish I didn’t have to leave Honey behind."

I nodded, kneeling beside a weapons locker, locking a new plasma cartridge into my sidearm. “Same here. She’s been through a lot too.”

Emily looked at me with a hint of concern. “Don’t worry,” she said, slipping a small comm disk into her belt. “I hired a dog sitter I trust. A local from the Skaalandr pet store. She’s trained with wildlife and handled dogs before, back when I was gone for long Raids. She’ll be okay.”

I paused, standing up and looking at her—really looking at her. There was a calm steadiness in her that hadn’t been there before. The kind that comes from walking through fire and coming out stronger.

“Well, in that case,” I said, reaching into my utility belt, fingers brushing against the pouch I’d kept hidden until now. I pulled it out slowly—a small cloth satchel, slightly burnt around the edges from the Wraith’s touch. “I brought you something. From the other side.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, curious. I opened the pouch and poured the gemstones into my gloved palm. The stones were jagged, rough-hewn like volcanic glass, with veins of strange color running through them. Most looked like they belonged in a cave beneath some distant moon. All except one.

The pink heart-shaped gemstone seemed... alive. Its soft glow pulsed faintly like a heartbeat, its surface smooth and polished, as if untouched by the chaos of the Wraith.

Emily stepped closer, her expression softening. Her breath caught just slightly when she saw it. She reached out and touched the gemstone, and in that moment, something subtle shifted in the air around us. Like a string between two people being pulled taut—and then released.

“Beelzebub gave them to me,” I said quietly. “Said to give them to you. I think this one was meant for your heart.”

Emily smiled—not the kind of forced smile worn during hard days, but something deeper. Warmer. She pulled me into a sudden, tight bear hug. I felt her breath against my neck, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way, even if just for a moment.

“You melted me,” she whispered, half-teasing, half-serious.

She slipped the heart gem into her utility belt beside her blade, as if it belonged there all along.

The overhead alarm sounded—low and steady. It was time.

Emily gave me one last look, nodded, and we both turned to head out. The corridors now swelled with marching feet and flashing indicator lights. Through the arched exit, we could already see our long ship—sleek, dark silver, its hull shaped with runic curves and solar wings folded at its sides. Blue flames pulsed at the engine vents, waiting.

The boarding ramp hissed open.

I followed Emily across the tarmac, boots striking wet steel, rain still dripping from the overhead rails. She walked with certainty, shoulders back, hair whipping in the wind. I trailed beside her, my mind focused, my hand occasionally brushing the shard of ethereal glass still in my belt.

Honey would be safe. The demons will be halted soon. The Red Dragon would soon know we were still here.

And this time, we were fighting back.

We left Skaalandr to make a statement to the Imperialists.

We arrived at York fairly quickly, and everyone was scrambling to the drop pods.

The drop pod’s interior was tighter than I remembered. A narrow metal coffin built for atmosphere reentry—cramped, dimly lit, and rumbling beneath our feet as we sealed inside. The walls pulsed with faint blue light from the onboard systems. There were seats, and metallic grips lining the sides. A curved ceiling overhead that made it impossible to stand upright.

Emily slid in between Serenity and I as the hatch closed behind us. She didn’t say anything at first, but the tension was obvious. Her hand reached out and steadied herself beside me as the pod began to tremble with the countdown ignition.

Then, casually but with steel in her voice, she turned to Serenity. “I don’t want you to kiss my man again.”

Serenity didn’t reply. She looked down, her long hair partially covering her face. There was something complex behind her silence—not guilt exactly, but an understanding. A recognition that this wasn’t the time or place to challenge Emily’s claim. I nodded in quiet agreement, not to shame Serenity, but to show Emily she was right to protect what we had. We were already dealing with war, loss, and the encroaching edge of darkness. The last thing we needed was uncertainty between us.

The pod jolted violently.

Outside, the great doors of the long ship peeled open to the stars. The sky was filled with descending streaks of light—dozens of drop pods launching in perfect formation. We were just another ember falling toward the surface of York.

The sound was deafening as we breached the planet’s atmosphere. The outer hull glowed orange from the friction, the pod shuddering and moaning under the pressure. Emily closed her eyes and braced herself. Serenity gripped the side rail tighter, her breath slow and controlled. I just watched the heat ripple across the forward display, already visualizing the terrain below.

A flashing red alert indicated our target site was locked in. Ten seconds to impact.

The pod leveled out, streaking low over grasslands and thick patches of forest. Through the small viewport, I could see the capital in the distance—a walled city of towering gothic spires and shimmering banners fluttering in the wind. Despite their militaristic legacy, the Red Dragon’s architecture was strangely reverent. Their buildings didn’t crush the landscape—they embraced it. Nature and structure interwoven, as if the city had grown from the soil itself.

There was something beautiful about it.

And yet, I knew better. Beauty often masked brutality. These were the same people who had torched Vikingnar’s far colonies, who spread imperial doctrine across the stars like wildfire.

The pod thudded hard as we hit the ground.

Doors hissed open, ramps extended. We stepped out onto a vast field of golden grass, still wet with morning dew. Dozens of other pods landed in staggered patterns around us, hissing steam as warriors emerged—armor glinting, banners raised high, hover cannons already being assembled by our tech crews.

The city loomed ahead.

Its walls were thick, constructed from blackened concrete and metal alloy. Watchtowers rose along the perimeter, their figures cloaked in red and silver, weapons at the ready—but they did not fire their laser rifles. Designed to penetrate our armor's energy shields. Not yet. There was no open hostility. No attack orders. Only the heavy weight of observation.

Emily, her voice crisp through the comm-link. “We hold the field. No moves until the scouts finish the sweep. We’re not here to start a war—we’re here to make them think twice before they try another one.”

“Copy that,” I said, tightening the strap on my shoulder guard. “Hover cannon’s coming online.”

Serenity remained quiet as she helped unload gear from one of the support pods. Her movements were sharp, methodical. She hadn’t spoken since the drop, but her focus was admirable. We had a history—yes—but right now, there was only the mission.

Our warriors began forming a perimeter. Drones zipped overhead, scanning the field and the nearby tree lines. Engineers rolled out the first hover cannon—an angular, hovering platform with a thick energy core in its center. It whirred to life, red pulses lighting up along its targeting array.

I looked back at the city, its walls silent, its towers unmoving.

There wasn’t much difference between our civilization and theirs. We both lived by strength. We both revered legacy, power, and the dead who brought us this far. The only things that separated us were our beliefs—how we saw the stars, and what we were willing to do to claim them.

I felt Emily’s hand brush against mine briefly, a silent reassurance that no matter what came next, we’d face it together.

Then I stepped forward, past the hover cannon, toward the high field ridge overlooking the city.

They could see us.

I watched the Knights emerge from the capital’s walls—row after row of crimson-plated figures, their helmets horned, visors glowing like lit coals. Their formation was slow and deliberate, spreading across the outer corridor like a plague.

Emily stood next to me, eyes narrowed, jaw set.

“Another peace treaty won’t work,” I told her. “They’ve already made up their minds.”

She just exhaled, the sound sharp through her nostrils, and secured the armored disc onto her chest. It magnetized with a metallic click. Thin red lines crawled outward from the center like veins, activating the upgraded nano armor that rapidly expanded across her limbs and torso like a living second skin. The technology was seamless. Familiar. Her silhouette became angular, almost predatory—shoulders reinforced, joints plated, helm wrapping around her face like a silver skull. The visor snapped into place, casting an ominous crimson glow from the slanted eyes. Her entire ensemble—jet black and blood red—merged perfectly with the leather jumpsuit she wore beneath. She looked like a storm given form.

We didn’t hesitate.

Beyond the lush fields and defensive line, the city gates had opened just wide enough to allow a battalion of Knights to march forward, their forms gleaming beneath the rising light. Their armor was heavier than ours, plated and baroque—draped in red tabards and insignias from a thousand battles past. Energy spears glowed at their sides, and their helmets bore vertical slits like the teeth of some great beast.

They charged. They advanced with discipline, knowing their numbers gave them confidence. But numbers wouldn’t be enough. Not today.

Emily and I surged forward alongside the first wave of our warriors. The field that once shimmered peacefully in the morning haze now trembled with thunderous footfalls. The air thickened with kinetic pulses, the screech of laser rifles and the charged hum of hover blades clashing against powered shields. The horizon fractured into chaos.

I didn’t wait for the enemy to come to us. I plunged into the tide of armored bodies with controlled brutality. My blade, forged from celestial alloy and tuned to my genetic imprint, cracked through even the thickest plating. And pierced chainmail with ease. I was faster than them. Smarter. I didn’t just fight—I hunted. I broke formations, slipped past shields, left confusion and torn metal in my wake. My strikes were precise, my motion constant, and every time their lines tried to reform. I was already within them, turning in order to panic with my chainsword.

Emily fought close to me—not behind, but just off my shoulder. Her movements were more fluid than mine. Elegant, even. Her strikes didn’t rely on brute force but perfect timing. Where I shattered skulls and armor, she slipped her blade into joints and neck seams with ruthless efficiency. Her combat style was a dance, beautiful and terrible. Anyone who tried to flank her didn’t last more than a few seconds. No one touched her. I made sure of that.

Our target was the plasma shield—an enormous, humming wall of red light that sealed the inner gate to the capital. It shimmered like a liquid forcefield stretched thin across a steel skeleton. At its base, the hover cannon hovered inches above the ground, escorted by a dozen of our warriors in a circular phalanx formation. They formed an unbreakable ring around the machine, shielded by overlapping hard-light barriers and sharpened polearms that rotated in shifting patterns.

We stayed close to that formation, anchoring its forward drive. Knights tried to breach the circle, but the moment they crossed the invisible threshold, Emily and I were there—swords meeting them with vicious finality. Blood and circuitry burst into the air. Limbs dropped. Armor folded under kinetic shock. And still the cannon advanced.

The field around us turned to a war zone of heat and fury. Explosions dotted the hills behind, where drop pods continued to offload supplies and reinforcements. Overhead, small fighters screamed past, exchanging laser fire with Red Dragon drones. The sky pulsed with burn lines and smoke trails, yet through it all, we kept our pace forward.

We reached the shield.

The hover cannon activated, its base unfolding like a blooming mechanical flower. Long plasma coils emerged, rotating and locking into place with deep, vibrating tones that shook the air. The weapon charged. Energy collected in the forward lens—a deep orange light that began to distort the atmosphere with its growing heat signature.

Enemy troops threw themselves at us in a desperate last stand. They knew what was about to happen. But their desperation only made them reckless.

I broke two helmets in quick succession with my chainsword, then rolled beneath a halberd swipe to drive my blade into the gut of another. Emily twisted between two incoming soldiers, leaving trails of black smoke as her magic cleaved open their reinforced chests.

Then, the cannon fired.

A colossal red beam erupted from the weapon’s core—an uninterrupted stream of incandescent fury. It struck the plasma shield with a sound like ripping thunder, and the barrier screamed in protest. It convulsed, pulsed, then finally cracked—spiderwebs of dying energy crawling across its surface before the whole thing collapsed in on itself with a whiplash of red lightning.

The gate was open.

Emily and I didn’t wait.

We stormed inside with a dozen warriors at our backs. The first line of defense—the outer courtyard—was already being evacuated by civilians. They screamed and scattered at the sight of us, their cloaks and clothes flapping behind them as they fled deeper into the city. The architecture up close was breathtaking: gothic spires of iron and obsidian, lined with living ivy and glowing sigils. Massive statues loomed above us, their eyes lit with energy, their spears pointed skyward.

But this wasn’t a sightseeing tour.

We pushed through the inner gate into the residential quarter, and that’s when the heavy response came.

Dozens of Red Dragon Knights awaited us—this time in elite formation. They were taller, thicker, wearing ceremonial armor plated in black steel with crimson trim. Their weapons crackled with energy—war hammers. These weren’t foot soldiers. These were their best.

The moment our boots touched the marble of the inner yard, they attacked without warning.

They didn’t shout. They didn’t posture. They moved like ghosts wrapped in thunder, crashing into us with the force of titans.

The battle shifted instantly.

What had been chaos in the fields became something more savage, more personal, in the narrow confines of the inner city. Every step forward was earned in blood. Every swing of my sword deflected another death. I could barely track Emily in the flurry of violence, but I knew she was near. Her nano-visor pulsed red every time her blades made contact. Her armor was scratched, scorched—but never broken.

I fought through the storm with fury in my heart. Fury for the lives we’d lost. Fury for the lies we’d been fed. Fury for the endless push and pull of peace that never came.

We weren’t here to conquer.

We were here to make sure they never underestimated us again.

And the walls of York would remember it.

Meanwhile, lightyears away from the blood-soaked plains of York, a different kind of storm brewed in the mechanical heart of Cybrawl.

The golden sheen of Deathskull and Droid L-84’s skeletal frames shimmered under the crimson light as they passed through the docking corridor of the main pyramidal structure—an enormous obsidian-black fortress veined with shimmering gold alloys and glowing red seams that pulsed like a mechanical heartbeat. The entranceway opened wide like the maw of some ancient machine god, carved with glyphs of forgotten wars and lit by flickering, vertical lights that descended the walls like blood.

Inside, the air hummed with power—raw, technological, ancient. Droids of every class marched in rigid formations across polished floors of dark metal, their footsteps synchronized in a metallic cadence that echoed endlessly. Above them, aerial drones hovered through vertical shafts, and mechanical sentries rotated on rails embedded in the high walls, scanning the halls with red optic sensors.

Deathskull paused as he entered the central hall, gaze rising toward the towering atrium ahead.

“I see the lights match our new style,” he said dryly, eye sockets glowing brighter. “Nice.”

L-84, trailing just behind, chuckled in his own synthetic way—a glitchy, stuttering reverberation of sound that mimicked laughter. “Dramatic, yes. Intimidating? Absolutely.”

Droids of various types turned their heads and waved or saluted as they passed. “Welcome home, Commander Deathskull,” several said in unison, their voices modulated and hollow. Others stood at rigid attention, reverent in posture, like mechanical monks awaiting holy guidance.

But the momentary serenity was shattered when a frantic, limping droid—clearly battered and scorched—came sprinting from a side corridor, limbs twitching as sparks trailed behind its damaged servos.

“Master Deathskull! L-84!” it gasped in panic. “Come quickly! Valrra has escaped and left the vault in ruins!”

Deathskull’s eye sockets flared.

Without hesitation, he and L-84 pivoted and followed the panicked droid down the winding corridor at high speed. Their feet clicked sharply against the metal floor, heels clanging like war drums. As they descended into the lower levels of the pyramid, the red lighting deepened into a harsher, more alarmed hue—an emergency pulse that bathed everything in a warning glow.

The jail area was a twisted mess.

The reinforced security doors to Valrra’s holding cell had been torn apart—blasted outward with internal force. The walls were scorched with a strange black residue that pulsed ever so faintly, like some kind of ethereal contamination. Shards of high-density alloy and broken restraint coils littered the floor. The cell, once the most secure within Cybrawl, was completely hollow.

“She’s gone,” L-84 stated, scanning the residual energy signature. “Residual radiation is non-elemental. This was an ethereal phase shift—not a mechanical breach.”

Deathskull didn’t answer. He only turned and stormed toward the vault chambers deeper in the substructure. As they approached, warning klaxons pulsed across the ceiling. Laser grids flickered uselessly across broken doorways. Two patrol drones lay smoking in the hallway, their chassis warped and sparking, still twitching from the attack.

Then they entered the Vault.

It had once been a sacred room—protected by dimensional locks, frequency-tuned energy fields, and arcane containment rings powered by the highest concentration of dark matter in the system. Now, it looked like the aftermath of a localized apocalypse.

The chamber was massive, circular, and hollow in its center, its obsidian walls etched with containment glyphs and neural interlace panels. But now, all of it lay in ruin. The once-pristine containment canisters, each suspended in anti-grav fields and sealed with quantum keys, were shattered—glass and alloy scattered across the floor like the bones of fallen titans. Some floated, suspended in erratic gravity pulses. Others flickered in and out of phase, torn between physical and ethereal states.

And the worst of it—every canister was empty.

All of the Immortals were gone.

Vapor trails of energy hung in the air, like afterimages of the creatures who once dwelled inside. These were not physical entities—they were ancient ethereal beings, older than the stars, beings of raw time, space, and entropy. Some were barely comprehensible, their forms barely seen by organic eyes. Now… they were free.

Deathskull stepped forward slowly, the red glow of his eyes intensifying as he surveyed the devastation.

L-84’s voice, usually steady, now quivered with dissonant modulation. “This… is a catastrophic breach. The Vault was never supposed to fail.”

Deathskull’s fists clenched.

“I guess you had every right to be suspicious of Valrra.” He said coldly.

Back on the planet York, within the twisted, labyrinthine streets of the capital city, chaos reigned under a sky bathed in smoke and plasma fire.

The brutal clang of metal against metal echoed between towering gothic structures—stone spires interlaced with synth-metal architecture that jutted into the crimson sky like blades. Red banners of the Red Dragon Empire were torn and flapping violently in the wind as flames licked the sides of the walls and fallen hovercrafts lay overturned in the bloodstained streets. The scent of scorched ozone and burning flesh saturated the air.

Beneath the thundering clouds, I was a blur of movement, my chainsword roaring like an enraged beast with every sweep. Its vibrating teeth chewed through Death Hammer knight armor with vicious efficiency, sending up showers of sparks and arterial spray. I weaved through the front lines like a storm of steel, flanked tightly by Emily whose acrobatics and ruthless precision mirrored mine. Her blade shimmered with nano-reactive light as she danced through the chaos, black and red armor burning with kinetic energy, visor glowing menacingly over her focused eyes.

But the knights were unrelenting. These were not conscripts or rookies—these were the elite. Death hammer.

Each Death Hammer knight stood nearly seven feet tall in reinforced armor laced with biomech enhancements. Their halberds were integrated with pulse cores, delivering deadly bursts of energy with each strike. Their shields emitted shockwaves on impact, knocking back even the strongest of our Vikingnar warriors. The battle was evenly matched, even with our technology.

The cobblestone plaza near the capitol-building became a blood arena.

Laser bolts arced between shattered columns, and the ground trembled with each artillery blast from distant skirmishes. Our warriors pressed forward, forming defensive perimeters behind fallen hover-wagons and crumbled statues. Emily and I surged through the vanguard, our objective clear—get to the capital doors and break the resistance.

Then came the traps.

Small metal spheres dropped from the balconies above—compact, high-frequency EMP shock grenades. They detonated with invisible force, releasing rippling pulses of kinetic energy and electromagnetic shock. Several of our warriors were hurled into the air like ragdolls, slamming against walls and debris, armor cracking upon impact. The noise was blinding—soundwaves distorted as the energy tore through the ground like invisible tsunamis.

Serenity, trying to take cover behind a broken pillar, was caught directly in the blast radius. The explosion knocked her off her feet, and she crashed into a broken metallic column. Her armor cracked, steam hissing from its joints. She lay motionless, her chestplate scorched and sparking. For a moment, the battle seemed to pause around her fallen body. A sudden quietness in the noise.

That’s when the storm began.

Reality bent.

A humming, almost organic vibration flooded the air. The sky twisted, folding into itself like a wounded dream. A rift tore through the dimension above the battlefield—a jagged slit glowing with an impossible blue, lined with chaotic fractals and flowing ether. From within it, a formless shape descended—an Immortal, raw and unshaped by time, composed of layered energy and thought. Its mass swirled like a storm of soul-light, shifting constantly, taking on brief, abstract impressions of limbs and wings before collapsing back into flowing radiance.

It descended upon Serenity.

The ethereal entity hovered above her broken form for only a heartbeat—and then it plunged into her body like liquid lightning. A shockwave exploded from the fusion, rippling across the field. Blue fire erupted from her chest as the being merged with her soul and spine.

Her body arched violently, suspended in air by invisible forces. The cracks in her armor widened as arcs of light surged through every plate. Serenity manages to deactivate her armor completely. Glowing sigils, alien in language, formed across her arms and collarbones as her jumpsuit shimmered into prominence—white leather now glowing with a celestial blue hue, as if lit from within by stars.

Her hair flowed upward as if underwater, black strands suspended in glowing gravity. Her eyes blazed like twin supernovae, pure blue and depthless. Heat emanated from her like solar radiation, burning the edges of nearby stone. Her breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling with the strain of containing what was now inside her.

Her arms lifted.

Then the storm unleashed.

Wind descended from above—massive and divine—summoned from the fractured skies. It wasn’t natural. It carried the voice of the Immortal inside her. The heavens darkened with spiraling cloud formations, concentric vortexes lit by pulses of blue-white lightning. Within seconds, a violent tornado formed directly over Serenity, tendrils of wind swirling around her body like a vortex crown.

The enemy knights hesitated.

Then they screamed.

The vortex dropped down like a judgment. Enemy forces were lifted into the air by an unseen, divine force—their bodies spinning rapidly, torn from the ground. Some slammed into buildings. Others collided mid-air, their limbs dislocating as the wind fractured bones and twisted joints. Armor plates ripped free like leaves. Helmets were peeled off by centrifugal force. Some knights were thrown hundreds of feet into the sky only to fall like shattered statues.

Blood rained.

Red mist cascaded down like paint spilled from the stars, painting the capital’s ruins in crimson. Limbs, weapons, and fragments of armor clattered down among the debris. The sky was chaos incarnate—no longer a battleground, but a god’s fury unleashed.

We watched, stunned and still, as the storm consumed our enemies.

And then, silence.

The wind collapsed in on itself. The vortex disintegrated into streams of fading energy that fell like glitter through the air. Serenity’s body slowly descended to the ground, weightless at first, then heavy. Her knees buckled. Her arms trembled. Her face was slack from exhaustion, and the glow in her eyes dimmed.

She fell.

Emily ran toward her. I followed. But Serenity was still breathing—barely. Her body trembled as the last of the Immortal energy faded into her bloodstream, now dormant. The celestial glow on her jumpsuit flickered, stabilizing into soft pulses.

She had survived. But she was spent. And now… forever changed.

Around us, the city was still. The capital gates were breached. The defenders were gone—torn by the divine winds. Fires crackled in silence. Smoke drifted lazily in the now-calm air. Distant sounds of battle still echoed from other sectors, but here, at the heart of the city, the war had ended in blood and wonder.

Above, the rift in the sky sealed itself, the last trace of the Immortal’s arrival disappearing like a fading scar in the atmosphere.

We stood victorious.

But what came next… no one could have predicted.

Because when an Immortal chooses a host… the universe always takes notice.

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CHAPTER 10: "HEROES RETURN" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"