Chapter I: Soldier of Fortune

“Initiate log. I don’t have much time left, I’ve been wounded… badly. Five hundred years after the Galactic Civil War, the Acaronian Empire… long believed to have been extinct, launched a devastating strike against the entirety of the Galactic Alliance. Targeting every military hub in a synchronized operation….  unprecedented brutality, their attack led to the annihilation of entire planets, and what looks like the… the extinction of the Veyd Order. The Elder Council did not stand a change… the Alliance submitted, the galaxy is now under the Empire's dominion. I’ve met few surviving Veyd, they either in hide, are eliminated on sigh or… or… worse. Any form of dissent is swiftly and ruthlessly suppressed.” - Log scavenged from the crashed spaceship of Veyd Master Illidan Altaris.

Erland's eyes snapped open, the remnants of his nightmares clinging to the edges of his consciousness. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the echoes of screams and the clash of noctran blades fading. He lay still for a moment, letting the remnants of the nightmare dissolve completely as he sat up, his breath ragged in the dark confines of his small and cramped room.

With a sigh, Erland swung his legs out of the cot, his feet meeting the cold deck plates of his spacecraft, a jarring touch against his skin. For a moment, he just sat there, trying to anchor himself in the present, away from the horrors that haunted his dreams—the same horrors he'd been running from since the Empire's culling decimated the Veyd.

His hand automatically reached for the hilt of his noctran blade, which lay on a makeshift shelf nearby. The weapon's ornate and intricate design was now weathered, its engravings and markings of his bloodline were scratched and faded by time and lack of care. A stark reminder of a life and duty he'd left behind—or so he tried to convince himself every day since the Culling.

The noctran's surface was cool under his touch, despite lying dormant for years, the weapon still thrumming with a latent energy that Erland felt deep in his bones. For a moment, he almost allowed himself to feel the connection, quickly shunning it away as this indulgence had no space on his life. He fastened the hilt to his belt.

Erland moved to the small basin in the corner of the room to splash cold water on his face. The man staring back at him from the grimy mirror was a stranger, a far cry from the youth he once was; his features were more rugged and weathered, punished by time and the harshness of the new galaxy, gaunt and drawn, his dark brown hair was longer and unkempt, a beard and mustache had grown on him, his eyes were hollow, not from the years but from the weight of survival.

He turned to a small cabinet, pulling it open with a resigned motion. His hand paused, hovering over the empty compartment where vials of Dylithium Sync, the synthetic compound that dulled his arcane sensitivity and numbed his mind, should have been. The last empty vial lay discarded on the side, a reminder of his dwindling supplies. A tightness formed in his chest as the realization set in. He'd have to immediately contact a supplier.

Suddenly the ship’s communicator came to life beeping incessantly, as the call came through. Erland walked towards the console, the incessant beeping a jarring counterpoint to the silence that had enveloped him just moments before. He paused, glancing back at his reflection in the mirror—a silent witness to the transformation wrought by time and turmoil. With a resigned sigh, he pressed the communicator's accept button.

"Erland, it's about time I caught you," came the familiar voice of Hax, a presence that felt almost familiar withing the increasingly alien galaxy.

"Hax," Erland greeted, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions stirred by the incoming call “Just who I was looking for”.

"I've got a job for you. The Last Haven. You know the place." Hax said.

Erland's grip tightened on the edge of the console. The Last Haven—a haven for mercenaries, outlaws, and those seeking oblivion in the bottom of a glass. It was the last place he wanted to be, yet the call of duty—or perhaps the call of destiny—was impossible to ignore.

"I'll be there," Erland replied, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air “bring some dyl for me, would ya?”.

"Really?” Hax asked, a mix of disgust and morbid indulgence on his voice. “Don't keep me waiting," he warned, the line going dead as abruptly as it had come to life.

Erland stood there for a moment longer, the silence of the cabin now filled with the echoes of his own thoughts. He grabbed his shooter revolver and downed the usual old and weathered jacket he grew accustomed to using, hiding the noctran hilt beneath it, the same ritual he had grown used too. Then quickly turned to the doors.

Erland stepped through the narrow doorway of his quarters, the heavy metal hatch closing with a hiss behind him. The spaceport of Torix thrived in its perpetual twilight, The neon lights of Torix's spaceport bled into the night, casting long shadows over the bustling crowds.

He navigated the catwalks and platforms, moving with purpose through the layers of steam and the cacophony of voices. Starship thrusters flared in the distance, their roar mingling with the clangor of metal and the sizzle of welding torches. Holographic advertisements flickered in the air, vibrant and seductive, selling everything from the latest synths models to the promise of adventure on distant, untamed worlds.

He moved among the crowd, his stride confident yet unassuming, threading through the throngs of aliens and humans alike, his eyes fixed on a less savory part of the spaceport, quickly walking towards a nondescript tavern, nestled between a rundown machinery shop and a stall selling questionable food. The sign above the door flickered intermittently, the name "The Last Haven" barely legible.

Pushing open the door, Erland was greeted by the smell of stale air, cheap synth-ale, and the din of conversation. The bar was dimly lit, the light from a few grimy overhead lamps barely reaching the darker corners of the room. The patrons were a mix of species and social standing, each absorbed in their own dealings, paying him no mind as he made his way through the scattered tables to the bar. His focus cut through the dimness to the far end of the bar where Hax waited, the silvery-blue hue of his skin and the sinuous lines that traced along the exposed skin betraying his identity.

Erland grabbed a bottle of synth-ale from a passed-out alien and sat on a table beside the Zha’Garan, giving it a chug, letting the sour taste fill his mouth as he waited for Hax to speak.

"You're late," Hax hissed in the human tongue, his voice low and scrambled, the annoyance clear even through his distorted tone.

Erland set the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Traffic was a nightmare," he replied dryly, a half-hearted attempt at humor that fell flat in the dense atmosphere of the tavern.

Hax narrowed his eyes, the bioluminescent tattoos on his face glowing slightly in the dim light. "You look worse every time I see you," he remarked coldly, his voice carrying a hint of professional detachment rather than concern. "This habit of yours isn't just costing you credits—it's costing you your edge."

Erland’s gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. He leaned forward, his voice low. "Did you bring the Dyl?" he asked, cutting straight to the chase. His fingers twitched subtly, betraying his desperation.

Hax sighed, a sound that seemed to carry a mixture of pity and disdain. "Yes, I brought your Dylithium. But this is the last batch I can get for you for a while. The supplies are drying up, and what's left is skyrocketing in price." He paused, studying Erland closely. "You should consider this an opportunity to cut back."

Erland scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "Not an option," he muttered, more to himself than to Hax. His hand subconsciously touched the place on his belt where his noctran blade hung concealed. The reminder of his past life as a Veyd Paladin, a life dictated by duty and discipline, was in stark contrast to the person he had become.

Hax pushed a small, unmarked container across the table towards Erland. "Here’s your Dyl," he said, his tone now strictly business. "Now, about the job. It’s just a simple package transfer. However, this one could get messy. Are you sure you’re up to it?" Hax complimented while pushing a data chip towards Erland.

Erland pocketed the chip without a glance. "Who's the one hiring?" Erland said, gazing at the container, a wave of relief washing over him.

"An Imperial noble. They want it handled quietly. I will make sure the silence pays extra." Hax answered, his large eyes glinting in the dim light.

Erland considered the job. Drexian sectors were out of imperial jurisdiction, which meant less chance of running into Empire entanglements. He needed the credits, and simple was good “simple”, meant no need to draw the noctran blade that lay dormant at his side.

He pocketed the chip and stood to leave, his mind already racing through the preparations he'd need for a trip to the Drexian sector. "Tell your master I'll get the package," Erland said, turning away.

"One more thing", said Hax "A team will meet you there, Y’Akriv insisted, but you don’t have to worry, they are professionals."

"How many times do I have to tell him?" asked Erland, turning back to the alien "You know I work alone."

"Not this time", answered Hax, quickly getting up from his seat. “Do not disappoint Y’Akriv.”

Erland sighed, the sound echoing slightly in the air. "Fine," he conceded grudgingly, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Just make sure they don't slow me down."

Hax's lips curled into a semblance of a smile, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Oh, they won't," he assured. "They’ll be waiting for you on the planet. " Hax said as he walked out "Oh, and Erland. try to be sober for this one. You're no good to me otherwise."

Erland nodded curtly, his mind racing with questions and possibilities, his hand instinctively closed around the container of Dyl, clutching it with force. As he strode out of The Last Haven, the night air of Torix's spaceport hit him with its mix of exhaust and the faint tang of ionization from departing ships.

As the doors swung shut behind him, he stepped into the shadowy labyrinth of Torix's alleys, his boots crunching over the grit and debris scattered. The din of light of the stores receding with each step. He navigated the twists and turns of the spaceport.

The streets of Torix were alive with the undercurrents of a city that never truly slept, where the pulse of commerce and crime beat in equal measure, the Graxxis Trade Alliance did not care for the planet they ruled, as long as everyone paid their share.

As he made his way through the dimly lit streets, Erland's mind replayed the conversation with Hax. The Zha’Garan was a reliable handler, despite his loyalty to the Graxxid, but something was off with the job he'd described, especially with the team of mercenaries. Erland was accustomed to relying on no one but himself, a solitary figure in the sprawling galaxy, and the thought of unknown variables did not sit well with him.

Emerging into a wider avenue, Erland paused, his back to the wall as he surveyed the area. The neon glow from the sign of a nearby tech shop threw flickering light onto the street, illuminating a group of rough-looking individuals standing guard outside. His eyes caught the subtle bulge of concealed weapons, the tension in their stance revealed them as a minor crime guild, looking to score something. They were waiting for someone, anyone.

Erland turned away, his instincts urging him to avoid unnecessary confrontation. However, as he stepped back, he felt a heavy hand clench his shoulder.

A sharp voice called out from the shadows, "Hey, you! Stop right there!"

“This is our territory, spacer” another voice echoed.

With a slight shake of his head, Erland turned, facing the group that now started to close in on him. He knew better than to engage, but now the escape routes were blocked; they had him surrounded.

A figure cut his way through the group, a burly human, tall, hairless, rugged and with a scar running down his face. A sinister grin spreading across his features. "Looks like you’re walking into our turf, spacer." He announced, his voice rough and dry.

Erland did not answer, weighing his options, his hand moving closer to his revolver.

"Don't do anything stupid," one of the gangers warned as he swiftly closed in on Erland, pressing a knife to his neck.

Erland’s raised both his hands, his heart pounding heavily, as he felt the rush adrenaline mix with the withdraw from the lack of Dyl. He could feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead, the world seemed to shake and pulsate, sending piercing pain to his head, as his vision narrowed on the container of Dyl.

“What we have here?” said the gang leader, trying to grab the container.

“J… just food” Erland answered, his throat dry “no n… need to lose our head over a few packs of ration”.

The gang leader chuckled, his grip tightening on Erland's shoulder. "Hand it over," he demanded, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Erland felt the cold blade pressing harder against his neck, his mind racing. He could feel the arcane energy thrumming just beneath the surface, suppressed by years of neglect and the dulling effects of the narcotics he used. He knew that there was no escape, using his arcane abilities was something he viewed as a last resort — a dangerous one at that.

Sensing no alternative, Erland closed his eyes for a moment, tapping into the faint, suppressed whisper of the arcane. He directed a surge of mental energy towards the gang leader, trying to project a sudden illusion into the mind of the gang leader. However, his control was weak and erratic. The flood of arcane power formed into a chaotic mix of distorted images and sounds that assaulted the minds and senses of every ganger—living decay, moving shadows, physical screams, and the indistinct roar of approaching danger.

The gang leader's eyes widened in confusion and fear, his grip faltering. "What the fuck is this?"

Taking advantage of the chaos, Erland didn't waste a moment. He ducked under the arm of the ganger with the knife, feeling the air shift as the blade sliced through where his neck had been moments before. He bolted, his legs carrying him faster than they had in years, every step sending a jolt of pain through his body.

As he turned the corner, a sharp pain exploded in his skull, like a vice tightening around his brain. His vision blurred, and a coppery taste filled his mouth as blood trickled from his nose. He stumbled, bracing against the wall, his heart pounding from the raw, unfiltered arcane energy coursing painfully through his veins.

Erland wiped the blood on his sleeve, his breathing ragged. He knew his body fought against itself, the arcane energies clashing against the numbing effects of the Dyl, draining him, eating him. The headache was debilitating, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and for a moment, the world seemed to spin around.

Erland's vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges. He stumbled again, barely catching himself on a rusted railing. The pain in his head was excruciating, a relentless pounding that threatened to split his skull. He felt his strength waning, his legs growing weaker with each step. The cold sweat now drenched his body, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Erland pushed himself out of the wall, walking with hurried steps towards the quieter dock where his ship was docked.

Eventually, he reached the quieter dock where the Wayfarer was berthed. The ship, his home, was an older model, single pilot, few quarters, and little to no space for crewmembers or cargo. There were clear signs that it had been through more skirmishes and narrow escapes than most of its peers. Its hull bore the marks of its tumultuous history, but it was reliable, and it was his.

Erland collapsed into the pilot's seat, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. He fumbled for the controls, setting the ship's autopilot to take off. As the Wayfarer lifted off, Erland leaned back, closing his eyes. The strain of using his arcane powers had taken its toll.

The Wayfarer’s engines ignited with a familiar rumble, soothing Erland’s tense nerves. He unfurled the solar sails, and leaned back in the pilot’s seat, the synthetic leather worn from countless hours of travel. As stars became streaks of light when the ship entered hyperspace, shaking as the cockpit’s glass panels sealed shut with metal sleeves.

With shaking hands, Erland reached into his jacket and pulled out the container of Dylithium Sync. He extracted a vial and the injector, his breath hitching with a mix of desperation and relief. He pressed the injector to his neck, feeling the cold metal against his skin, and released the dose.

The familiar burn of the Dyl coursed through his veins, dulling the raw arcane energy, and easing the pain in his head. His muscles relaxed slightly, the immediate physical agony subsiding into a bearable ache. His vision cleared, and the pounding in his skull receded to a distant throb.

As the pain subsided and the familiar tingling sensation of the Dyl took effect, Erland checked the data chip Hax had given him, slotting it into the ship’s console. The screen flickered, displaying a holographic dossier of his mission details. The ‘package’ was located on the Drexian sector, in a remote outpost on Varnus, a moon orbiting a gas giant with violent storms that made approach and departure tricky.

The Drexian sector was still under Graxxid rule, however, it was not a particularly hostile territory, but it was unruly and lawless, a stark contrast to the Empire’s controlled worlds and an even greater difference from the old Galactic Alliance.

With a few hours before arrival, Erland decided to make use of the time. He headed to the small armory within the ship, a cramped room filled with the tools of his trade. There, he inspected his equipment, from the versatile shooter revolver to the various gadgets he’d collected over the years.

But it was the noctran blade that drew his attention the most. Taking it off his belt, he ran his fingers over the engravings, each one a story, a memory, a piece of a legacy he left behind. Yet, the weapon still felt like an extension of himself, a silent witness to what he had become.

He held the noctran, feeling the latent power hum between his fingers. He hadn’t activated the blade in years, relying on more conventional means to get the job done. But the truth was, there was no weapon more deadly, more precise, or more terrifying in the hands of a Veyd than their bonded noctran blade.

His hand shook slightly as he placed the blade back on the shelf, the effects of the Dylithium Sync not fully dulling the strain of using his arcane powers. He leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. The encounter with the gang had drained him more than he cared to admit.

The ship’s AI chirped, bringing him back to his reality, his destination fast approached.

Erland pushed off from the armory and made his way back to the cockpit. He secured the rest of his gear, his movements deliberate and practiced despite the lingering exhaustion. As he settled into the pilot’s seat, he reviewed the mission details once more.

As the Wayfarer emerged from hyperspace, the gas giant loomed ahead, a swirling mass of storms, its presence dominating the view from the cockpit. The moon of Varnus, a shadow against the churning backdrop, seemed to defy the chaos surrounding it. Erland's hands danced across the console, adjusting the sails and engine output for entry.

The descent was rough, the ship shuddering as it passed through the upper atmosphere, the storms of Varnus reaching up as if to pull him back into the void. Erland's grip on the controls tightened as the Wayfarer bucked and rolled, the ship's hull groaning under the atmospheric tumult of Varnus. Warning lights blinked urgently, the ship’s AI voiced warnings, as he navigated the treacherous descent. He'd flown through asteroid fields and dodged Imperial patrols, but the storms of Varnus were something else—alive and angry.

Through the viewport, the world was a blur of gray and white, the moon's surface hidden beneath the tempest's rage. He could feel the ship protest, the hull groaning as gusts of wind and pockets of turbulence fought his descent.

He held the controls tight, easing the ship through the violent atmosphere, each decision critical, each movement precise. Erland's pulse thrummed in his ears, a testament to the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The ship pitched and yawed, but Erland countered with a stream of curses and prayers under his breath—whatever it took to see him safely through.

Finally, the ship broke through the last layer of cloud cover, revealing the moon's surface. Varnus sprawled out beneath him, a tapestry of jagged mountains and dark valleys. The outpost's coordinates blinked on his console, guiding him toward his destination.

As the Wayfarer approached the landing coordinates, the outpost came into view—a series of domed structures clinging to the rocky terrain like barnacles. Erland eased the ship down, the landing gear deploying with a thud as the Wayfarer touched down on the solid ground of Varnus.

He powered down the engines, the storm's howl still audible even within the ship's reinforced structure. With a deep breath, Erland steeled himself for the mission ahead. He checked the ammo on his shooter revolver and made sure the noctran was still attached to his belt.

Exiting the Wayfarer, Erland's boots crunched on the gravelly surface of Varnus. The outpost was quiet, too quiet for comfort. Buildings in varying states of disrepair huddled together, offering scant protection against the elements. A few locals glanced his way, their expressions ranging from indifferent to mildly curious, before returning to their business.

Erland caught the silhouette approaching through the crowd, too svelte to be one of the brawny bounty hunters that usually hung around these parts. The figure's gait was too fluid, the posture too composed—definitely not human. Cloaked in a fitted armor that hugged a distinctly slender frame, the mercenary carried an air of quiet confidence, the kind that comes from relying on wits as much as weaponry.

"You Erland?" came the question, laced with a cultured accent that didn't quite mask the alien intonations.

Erland's gaze drifted to his belt, hand hovering casually near the grip of his revolver. Old habits. "Might be," he drawled, a half-smirk playing on his lips, eyes narrowed with measured appraisal.

With a smooth gesture, the mercenary lifted the helmet, revealing the distinctive pale, scaly skin of a Cerevian—semi-translucent and etched with subtle, shifting patterns. Large, luminescent eyes sized him up, intelligent and alert, framed by a high-domed forehead marked with natural tattoos signifying intellect and standing.

"I’m Solina Vizara," she introduced herself, offering a hand that seemed almost too delicate for the rugged world they stood in. "Hax said you’d be dropping by."

Erland's smirk grew a shade warmer, though his hand remained fixed by his side. "You speak the human tongue?"

"The neurosync helps, though I have studied your dialects" Solina responded, one hand touching her skull while the other lowered slowly, her voice a harmonious blend of logic and melody. "Trust is a luxury, I know, but we're all cogs in the same machine here."

Erland chuckled, the sound a blend of irony and genuine mirth. "Joint ops aren't really my style," he confessed with a shrug that didn't quite reach his shoulders.

"Yeah, Hax briefed me on your lone wolf act," Solina quipped, a hint of mischief in her voice. "But you will find some familiar faces.”

“Really?” asked Erland amused “Care to tell?”

“You will see. Let's go meet the rest of the ensemble." Her tone suggested it wasn't a request, but an invitation to step into a dance he knew all too well.

Erland's response was a chuckle, a sound that held both resignation and the spark of a challenge. "After you," he said, motioning to her. His steps behind her were measured, his gaze taking in every detail—the sway of her confident stride and the quiet hum of the spaceport.

Erland followed Solina through the crowded walkways of Torix spaceport, his boots splashing through the shallow puddles that the perpetual rain left on the metallic floors. The constant drizzle was a signature of the planet, painting everything with a sheen of wetness that reflected the neon lights in a thousand colors.

They arrived at a nondescript door hidden in the shadows of the spaceport's more derelict quarter. Solina entered a code, and the door slid open with a silent grace that belied the run-down facade of the building. "After you," she said, her voice betraying no emotion.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, a table in the center, displaying a 3D environment of the outpost. Five figures stood around it, silhouetted against the flickering light of the tactical display. Erland's eyes scanned the faces as he stepped into the gloom.

The first was a towering Jarnskr, his broad shoulders and armored carapace unmistakable against the dim backdrop. His arms were crossed, a heavy scattershot hanging from his hip. He nodded at Erland, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than warmth.

Beside him stood a figure cloaked in shadows, only the glint of their eyes visible beneath the hood. There was a stillness about them, the kind that screamed danger to Erland’s instincts. A bounty hunter, or perhaps an assassin—either way, a wildcard in the deck.

Two humans stood together, a grizzled man with a scar that covered his head from scalp to right eyebrow, his face covered in lines of age and previous battles. Beside him a younger woman, not much older than Erland, her face bearing intricate paintings and markings.

Lastly, the fifth face was familiar to Erland, Renna Ysaad. Her features familiar and still foreign, strong yet soft. Her tanned freckled face was framed by waves of shoulder-length hair, dark sand in color. Sharp, observant eyes filled with scorn and hate, focused intently on Erland.

"Erland," Renna's voice was sharp, edged with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. "It's been a long time."

Erland’s response was measured, careful. "Renna. Didn't expect to see you here," he admitted, the surprise evident in his tone.

"I could say the same," Renna shot back. The air between them was charged a current that spoke of a past shared and an ending that had been anything but clean.

The older human's chuckle cut through the tension. Leaning back, he idly stroked his scar while regarding them with a glint in his eye. "Ah, the drama of comrades reuniting," he rasped. "Or perhaps lovers? Either way, it adds an interesting twist."

Solina cleared her throat, drawing attention back to her. "This is our team," she stated. "Each of us was hired by Y’Akriv for a reason, including Erland, so let's not ruin things."

Renna's gaze lingered on Erland a moment longer before she turned away, conceding the point with a silent huff. The younger woman observed the exchange with keen interest, her painted face betraying no emotion.

“The alien speaks true,” the man said, fixing his gaze on Erland. “I don’t know you, kid. But you better prove yourself useful, otherwise Korath here might get hungry.” He turned to the Jarnskr.

“I don’t understand your chatter, but this new human seems troublesome,” Korath muttered in his native tongue, his eyes locked on the older human. “We should eliminate him and proceed with the rest of the team; four is sufficient.”

Solina abruptly interjected, shaking her head in disagreement. “If Y’Akriv saw fit to include him, there must be a reason,” she stated in Jarnspeak.

“Alright, that's enough,” the cloaked alien intervened in his native tongue. “Solina, care to introduce us to your new friend?”

Solina nodded. “Erland, this is Nyx,” she said, gesturing to the cloaked figure. “He's our infiltration specialist.”

Nyx nodded in acknowledgment as Solina directed her attention to the Jarnskr in the corner, his gaze fixed on Erland.

“And that's Korath, our heavy weapons support,” Solina continued before turning to the two humans. “And these are…”

“Names Taro and Ahni,” the man interrupted. “We're Varnjask from the clan Vhorn of the Jarnskr, same as the big guy. Y’Akriv figured you might need assistance from seasoned professionals.”

“Humans in a Jarnskr clan? That's a first,” remarked Erland.

“Humans may be our species,” Ahni explained, “but we are their descendants, steeped in the legacy of the great hunter.”

"Now that introductions are complete, let's focus on the plan," Solina stated, quickly repeating it in other tongues. The crewmates nodded in agreement, their attention fixed on her as she approached the table and input a command on its console.

The representation of the outpost dissolved, replaced by a metallic structure. "The package is located here," she indicated a section of the complex. "Our plan is simple: infiltrate, retrieve the package, and exit without a trace. However, as they say, simple plans rarely survive enemy contact."

“And what if the plan goes awry?” Erland inquired, his eyes fixed on the projection.

"Expect complications," Renna interjected before Solina could respond. "They tend to follow wherever you go."

As the team huddled around the dim glow of the tactical display, Solina outlined the plan, laying out the approach vectors, her finger moving over the controls, adjusting their path. The outpost, a labyrinth of metallic structures, was more fortress than storage facility, making any approach conspicuous. Their best bet was a silent insertion under the cover of Varnus's perpetual storms.

"We'll set down here," Solina pointed to a flat expanse shielded by the craggy outcrops. "It's outside their sensor range but close enough for a quick approach."

Taro leaned forward, his scarred visage creasing in thought. "We go in under the cover of night. Their patrols are minimal, and with the storm cycles, we'll have the darkness to our advantage."

Erland nodded, his mind racing through potential pitfalls. "Storms might give us cover, but they'll also mess with our comm-links. We need a solid way to keep in touch if we get separated."

Ahni spoke up. "We have short-range burst communicators. Encrypted and reliable for a few kilometers. Should keep us connected through the worst of it."

Solina translated their phrases to the dialects of the other aliens.

Korath grumbled in agreement, his voice a deep rumble. "Once we're on the ground, I'll take point. My armor can take a hit, and I'll clear a path through any... distractions."

Nyx, still cloaked in shadow, spoke softly but with confidence. "I'll handle the security systems. Give me ten minutes in the network node, and I'll have their eyes blind and ears deaf."

Solina proceeded to translate it once more.

"And if we encounter resistance?" Renna's eyes were focused on the display.

Erland gazed at her, his own eyes unflinching. "We avoid engagement, unless really necessary. The last thing we need is the entire complex coming down on us."

Solina, quickly translated it again, prompting a collective nod from the two aliens.

Renna still seemed skeptical but gave a curt nod. "Let's get to the rovers and gear up. Time's wasting."

As the meeting dispersed, Erland settled back for a moment, gazing at Solina, how she lingered a moment too long at the table, fingers gliding across its surface, with a nearly imperceptible tightening of her hand, as it hovered over the console, the faintest shift in her stance as she gazed at the package’s location.

Solina noticed his gaze, letting out a small nod as she left the room with the other crewmembers. Erland lingered a moment longer, gazing at the table. He glanced around the room, making sure nobody was watching, before reaching into his jacket and pulling a syringe of Dyl. He knew he needed to keep his edge for the mission, but the urge was too strong.

The burning sensation on his veins offered him the needed comfort. As the numbness set in, he heard steps fast approaching.

Renna stood at the threshold of the door. "Erland, we..." she started, before noticing him. "Are you getting high?" she hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling the syringe away.

"Renna, now's not the time," Erland replied, trying to shake her off, but she held firm.

"What do you mean it’s not the time? " She asked, her eyes blazing with anger. “We are getting ready for a mission, and you decided to get high.”

Erland sighed, his gaze hardening. "Leave me be, Renna," he said, pulling his arm free and walking away from her.

Renna blocked his path, her face inches from his. "This isn't just about you, Erland. Your actions affect the whole team. You think you can just inject that crap, and everything will be fine?"

Erland's eyes narrowed. "I know what I'm doing. This is the only thing that keeps me steady. Without it, I’m still better than most of you."

Renna's expression was a mix of anger and disdain. "You were a professional once. What happened to you?"

"The man you knew is gone," Erland replied coldly. "This is who I am now. Deal with it."

Renna's eyes flashed with frustration. "You're a liability, Erland. If you screw this up because you're too high to function, I won't hesitate to leave you behind."

Erland nodded curtly, turning away to join the others at the rovers. The brief exchange had left him unfazed, the Dyl working its way through his system, dulling his senses.

Chapter II: The Complex

"By decree of his majesty, the Eternal Emperor Malachor, first of his name. The Draethar ascendancy is absolute. The Veyd, once heralded as protectors, are now branded as heretics and enemies of the state. Their teachings are forbidden, their existence a crime. This galaxy, under the watchful eye of the Empire, shall know order. Dissidence will be extinguished. Unity under the Empire, or oblivion." – The Acaronian Empire’s Proclamation of Victory, broadcasted throughout the Alliance Sectors.

In the garage, two rovers stood ready, their engines silent. The vehicles were rugged, built for the moon's harsh terrain, their frames low and wide to handle the rocky ground. Erland climbed into the first rover, behind the driver's seat where Nyx was already initiating the ignition sequence.

Renna sat in front of him, scowling as she saw Erland. “Is it too late to change the vehicle?”, she asked, her voice laced with lingering irritation from their last argument.

“You can always walk there” answered Erland, with a slight smirk on his face “I heard the view is great.”

Renna shot him a glare, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. For a brief moment, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, almost forming a smile. Erland shrugged, leaning back in his seat, his gaze shifting to the window as the engine roared to life.

The engine roared to life, a growl that matched the storm outside. The rover's lights pierced the darkness, illuminating the path ahead as the team set out. The wind howled, whipping the sand and dust into a frenzy that rattled against the rover's exterior.

As the rover’s wheels bit into the rough terrain of Varnus, the cabin was filled with the howling wind's sound, a constant reminder of the hostile environment outside. Erland's gaze was fixed on the landscape rolling past the window, watching the eerie beauty of the moon's surface, bathed in rains and thunder.

“I know that look,” Renna said, breaking the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

Erland didn’t immediately respond, his attention still on the passing scenery.

“Don’t start ignoring me,” she pressed.

“I’m just thinking...” Erland finally turned to face Renna. “Something about this job doesn’t sit right with me. And back at the hideout, Solina... she was acting strange.”

“Strange how?”

“It's like she knows more than she lets on. I don’t think we can trust everyone here.”

Renna sighed. “There you go again with your suspicions. It’s always something with you.”

“Yes, and I have a good reason for that, you know it…”

“No, you don’t,” she snapped back, her voice sharper now. “You never let anyone in. You keep secrets, stay guarded. It’s why... we never worked out. You never trusted me, even back when we were...”

“Everything alright back there?” Nyx interrupted, glancing at them through the rearview display, his voice tinged with concern but still in his native tongue.

“We’re fine,” Renna assured him in the same language, a quick exchange that left Erland momentarily sidelined.

“Since when do you speak his language?” Erland asked, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice.

“Neurosync. Got it a few months back,” Renna replied, turning back to the conversation at hand. “It’s quite useful.”

“I can imagine.”

“Erland,” she continued, her tone softening, “you need to learn to trust. There’s nothing off about this job. Solina is a professional.”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” Erland murmured, turning his gaze back to the window.

The rover bumped and jolted as it navigated the treacherous terrain of Varnus. Outside, the storm raged on, a tempest of alien ferocity that seemed almost alive in its fury. Inside the cramped cabin, the tension that had momentarily flared between Erland and Renna settled into an uneasy silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Erland’s mind churned with the possibilities of what lay ahead. The mission, and Renna’s words that nagged at him. His gaze shifted from the window back to Renna, observing her profile in the dim light.

His communication unit crackled to life, breaking the silence. It was Taro’s voice. "Solina said to warn you that we’ll be arriving at checkpoint Alpha in five minutes. Remember, once we're in, keep communications to a minimum. We don't know how extensive their surveillance is."

Erland nodded to himself, acknowledging the order. The job had sounded straightforward enough when he read the data chip. But that hardly matter, Erland had learned that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

As the rover neared the designated checkpoint, Nyx slowed the vehicle, his eyes scanning the horizon. The outpost’s lights flickered in the distance, a beacon in the oppressive darkness of the storm. It was a stark reminder of their mission's reality—a foray into unknown dangers for a prize whose value they could only guess at.

"We're here," Nyx announced, his voice devoid of any emotion that his face, hidden beneath the hood, might have betrayed. The rover came to a halt, its engines idling softly as the occupants prepared for what came next.

Renna nodded to Erland, repeating the alien’s words as she surveyed her equipment.

Erland checked his gear one last time, ensuring his shooter revolver was fully loaded and within easy reach. He then glanced at the dormant noctran blade at his side, feeling its familiar weight. There was little comfort in its presence, a remnant of who he was.

Renna caught his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Be careful, Erland," she said, the earlier hardness in her voice replaced with something that sounded almost like concern.

"Always am," Erland replied, mustering a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned to Nyx, nodding once. "Let's get this over with." He said, knowing the alien wouldn’t understand.

Together, they exited the rover, stepping into the maelstrom that awaited them outside. The wind lashed at them with unseen fury, the water pouring over their helmets and visors. But they pushed forward, moving towards the shadowy outlines of the outpost.

Erland led the way, his steps measured against the wind's resistance, his hand instinctively resting near the hilt of his noctran blade. The familiarity of its presence was a distant promise of protection and comfort.

Renna moved with equal determination, her own preparations evident in the way her gear was secured against the storm. Nyx, meanwhile, seemed almost unaffected by the conditions, his cloaked figure moving through the tempest with unsettling grace.

As they neared the perimeter of the outpost, they spotted a security checkpoint, manned by two guards oblivious to their approach, their attention more on the shelter from the storm than the surveillance feeds.

Nyx signaled a halt, crouching low, his fingers moving swiftly over a small device. Within moments, the guards’ chatter ceased as the lights and energy weaned. Both quickly leaving the shelter to verify the energy supply, confusion set in their faces. The alien signaled them to proceed.

Erland approached from the left, his steps carefully measured to avoid detection. Renna took the right, her movements just as practiced. They converged on the guards with swift precision.

He grabbed one from behind, quickly stabbing him through the neck, the small knife lodging on the weak spot on his gear, blood quickly flowing out of the open wound as the life slipped away from the guard. Erland gazed at Renna, the woman had done the same, quickly disposing of the body.

Erland’s gaze turned back to the guard, even after years, taking a life still had almost no effect on him, neither regret nor any form of pleasure, just the numbness that had become part of himself.

Suddenly the communicator on the shelter sprung to life “Is everything alright there?” said an alien on the other end, speaking in valtek “Your signal gave out.”

Erland quickly ran to the communicator “Yeah, the storm scrambled our signal” he answered in the same language “We’ll have to try and run repairs once it passes.”

“Alright, take care then.” Said the Valtarian on the other end before turning off the communications.

“You speak valtek?” asked Renna.

“Just a thing or two that I took from the field” answered Erland, his lie almost as natural as breathing.

“Shit, that was almost perfect. Now come take care of the bodies.”

Erland nodded, before they proceeded to drag the guards into the shadows. Nyx joined them, a nod of approval at their efficiency before he gestured towards the main console of the outpost.

The equipment was encrypted by a series of passwords, a high-security access panel beside it glowing faintly in the storm’s erratic lighting. Nyx moved forward, his device in hand, working to unlock the console. Erland watched the perimeter, while Renna kept an eye on their rear, ensuring their entrance would remain undiscovered.

Seconds stretched into what felt like hours until a soft click signaled success. The screen flashed to life, giving them the layout of the complex that stood nearby them, as well as a series of passcodes and information.

“Solina, you have access” said Nyx over his communicator “there should be a latch for your team to enter. Sending you the details.”

“Got it” answered Solina in his language, her voice echoing on the communicator “I’ll find you inside.”

“Good, we will be going through an underground passage, not far from here” he said, “we’ll rendezvous on the marked location.”

“They are inside” said Renna “time for us to move in.”

Erland nodded as they opened the door and moved in the storm once more. Exiting the outpost, he and his team faced the storm's renewed fury. The gales seemed almost personal in their ferocity, as if the planet itself sought to bar their way. Nyx led the team, following the layout he downloaded from the console.

They trudged through the maelstrom, the beacon on Nyx's wrist cutting through the darkness, guiding them with its steady pulse. Renna moved close to Erland, her head focused on the map that the alien carried on his wrist. The howl of the wind and the torrential rain made communication nearly impossible, but the resolve in each step spoke volumes.

The terrain grew increasingly treacherous as they neared the location of the underground entrance Nyx had identified from the outpost's schematics. It was well hidden, designed for discreet access in times of need, unguarded and unseen by any passerby.

After what felt like an eternity against the storm, Nyx halted, signaling the team to gather around. He crouched, sweeping aside layers of wet debris to reveal a hatch, its outline barely visible against the ground. With a nod to Erland, he keyed in a sequence, and the hatch opened with a quiet hiss, shooting oxygen to the atmosphere of Varnus, and revealing a dark descent into the bowels of the complex.

One by one, they entered the tunnel, the storm's clamor fading into a distant echo as the hatch sealed above them. The tunnel was narrow, dark and cold, a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind. Nyx activated a small light source, illuminating the path forward.

Renna gazed at her wrist “we have breathable oxygen in here” she said, turning off the breather and taking off her helmet “we may as well take some advantage of this.”

“Erland nodded, turning off the breathing equipment, letting the stale air enter through the filters of his helmet “I wouldn’t take off the helmet in a place like this.”

Nyx pushed down his hood and took off the upper part of his helmet, revealing the head of a Telerian. His skin was a mix of blue and green, shimmering slightly under the light. Large eyes protected by glasses that stood above the rebreather that still hugged his face.

“Couldn’t have guessed he was a Telerian” commented Erland.

“Come on, let’s move” said Renna, disregarding his comment and quickly putting her helmet back on.

As they pressed forward, the light from Nyx’s device cast elongated shadows against the narrow tunnel walls, transforming their figures into flickering specters that danced ahead of them. The tunnel, carved from the moon’s unforgiving rock, bore the scars of machinery, scraps of technology, cords, and cables.

The tunnel twisted and turned, a labyrinth carved beneath the surface of Varnus. Occasionally, they passed sealed doors, remnants of the complex's layered security measures, now just markers in the dark as they headed towards the rendezvous point.

Erland's senses were heightened, every shadow a potential threat, every creak of their boots on the metal floor a loud proclamation of their presence. Despite the apparent safety of the tunnel, his hand never strayed far from his revolver.

Nyx, leading the way, paused occasionally, consulting the device on his wrist to ensure their path remained true. His demeanor was calm and collected, the Telerian's navigation through the tunnel seemed almost intuitive, his large eyes catching hints of the path ahead even before the light revealed it.

As they delved deeper, the silence was replaced by the idle chatter of the ones that inhabited the complex, their routine labors, complains and interactions. Erland could see the crew, far too well equipped and diverse to be a part of the empire, the guild that had taken control of the structure was different.

Suddenly, Nyx held up a hand, signaling a halt. Ahead, the tunnel opened up into a larger chamber, the light from Nyx's device spilling into the space and revealing the outlines of a heavy, sealed door. "This is it," he murmured, his voice echoing softly in the chamber. "We’ve arrived."

Renna gazed at Erland and repeated the alien’s words, as Nyx typed the pass code in a small console mounted on the wall. After a few seconds the door hissed and opened, revealing a room.

They stepped into the space, the door closing behind them with a soft click that sounded like a finality in the quiet. The room was sparsely furnished, with a few crates and chairs scattered around.

Solina and her crew stood there, each with their weapons pointed at the new commers, quickly lowering them once they realized who they were; quickly being replaced with quiet nods and greetings.

"You made it," Solina said, a hint of relief in her voice. "We've managed to syphon in their communications. Looks like we have a full house today."

“And why is that?” asked Erland, his voice low.

“Apparently there is something going on with the prisoners” answered Ahni “some rival guild managed to have one of their leaders arrested, so people want to watch the execution.”

“Prisoners? The intel never mentioned…” started Renna.

“I guess the intel was wrong”, interjected Taro, his voice carried the smallest hint of insecurity, almost imperceptible “things like this happen. Specially coming from Y’Akriv.”

“So, what’s the plan now?” asked Erland.

“Well, there are too many of them to fight head on, at least if we want to secure the objective” answered Solina “We’ll have to create a distraction. Some chaos to enable us to move freely.”

“What kind of distraction?” asked Renna.

“Luckly, we came prepared for the worst, we will start a riot” answered the Cerevian “while the guards are distracted with the prisoners, we can focus on our prize.”

“Wait”, interjected Erland “who even are these prisoners?”

“We don’t know” answered Ahni “but if they are here, they could be useful to us.”

“So, the plan is to release potentially psychotic criminals out in the open?” asked Erland “I thought your race was supposed to be smart.”

“Erland…,” said Renna.

“I am being smart.” Answered Solina “This way I can make sure we all live.”

“Live? You are planning on releasing criminals to the entire facility” exclaimed Erland. “Fuck, even if we manage to get out of this place, we will set out these people on Varnus.”

“Then we can flood it, let the toxic fumes enter and kill them all” intervened Solina “We just need a distraction.”

Erland fell silent, his lack of words weighed heavy in the room. The gravity of Solina's plan hung over him like a dark shroud. Yet, he could understand the logic and strategy behind it. Distraction was their key to success.

Renna watched Erland closely, reading the conflict etched across his face. "It's a tough call," she admitted softly. "But sometimes, we have to choose the lesser evil for the greater good."

Erland took a deep breath, before meeting each of their gazes in turn. "Fine" he conceded, the word tasting bitter.

Solina gave a curt nod, her expression grim but determined. "We'll target the cells simultaneously, no guards will be able to foresee what will happen."

“What will we do when they activate the automated defenses?” asked Renna.

“There is no need to worry about that” answered Ahni “We’ll target their command center, a small team capable of whipping it.”

“You guys have it all figured out” commented Erland, his eyes shifting towards Solina, his gaze almost burning through his visor.

“We had time to plan it all” said Taro “We’ll just have to spread into teams, this way we can attack everywhere at once.”

“Taro is right” said Solina “to ensure everything is done, we’ll have to spread ourselves into teams.”

“Alright, then who’s with who?” asked Erland.

“Ahni and Taro should get the west wing,” said Solina, nodding to the two humans “Nyx and Renna should go to the command center, Korath can handle the south wing and I’ll oversee things from here”, she paused for a second “Erland…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He answered, “I work better alone anyway.”

“Good, we’ll rendezvous at the package” Solina quickly tapped onto her wrist “you all should have the complex’s map on your HUD, right now.”

As she finished saying, Erland’s helmet flashed, revealing a, echo location of the entire complex.

“Great, let’s move out people.” Said Solina.

Erland walked a few steps, watching everyone check their equipment, then he turned to Renna “do you still remember the secure channel?” he asked, while fiddling with his revolver, his voice was barely an audible whisper.

“Yeah, why?” she answered.

“Good, turn it on” he said, “I’ll be in touch.”

Erland moved towards the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

Chapter III : Beneath the Storm

"To our citizens, we teeter on the precipice. The forces of the Acaronian Empire besiege us. Our forces are decimated, the Veyd, our guardians, on the verge of annihilation. This broadcast may be our last. Take cover… yet I beg of you to hold fast to hope—our Alliance was forged in defiance of tyranny, to secure a brighter future for all. Cling to the ideals that united us and prepare to rise anew, for our spirits shall never be diminished. Remember… remember that darkness is deepest just before the dawn." – Last Transmission of Actorios Kessle III, Sovereign Arbiter of the Galactic Alliance

Erland moved through the dimly lit corridors of the complex, his steps silent against the cold metal floor. The map overlay on his HUD guiding him through the maze of tunnels and chambers that comprised the underbelly of the prison.

Suddenly, his communicator sprang to life “Erland” said Renna on the other end “we are almost at the command center, you there yet?”

“Almost” he said, as he hid away from a security drone passing by.

“Alright, pick up your pace.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.”

He reached a security checkpoint, unmanned but for the surveillance tech it housed. Erland grabbed a device Nyx had given him, allowing the surveillance to scan it. The camera scrambled itself, quickly opening the doors, allowing him to jump to the other side.

The corridor widened into what appeared to be a central hub, a node connecting various sections of the prison. Erland paused, taking cover behind a pillar as he surveyed the area. His objective lay beyond this hub, according to the schematics.

“So, you wanted to talk?” said Renna on the secure line of his comms.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you noticed” he said, “but I don’t trust them.”

“I got that much” she answered, “now tell me something new”.

“No, you don’t get it” he said, as he waited for a patrol to pass him by “nobody ever mentioned that we’d be infiltrating a prison.”

“You know Y’Akriv, he would hide this if it would make everything cheaper” she paused for a brief second “and not to mention, nobody else knew that.”

“Yeah? Then why did they came prepared for a full-on assault?” he interjected “shit, if it was an infiltration, Y’Akriv wouldn’t send in a Jarnskr and his kin.”

“Right” said Renna.

“They know more than we do, they’ve planned for this” said Erland “Even the way they spread out the teams.

“And what makes you think I’m not a part of it?” she asked.

“I know you too well, you wouldn’t be able to shut up if you were.”

She chuckled in response, “I’ll watch my back, if anything suspicious happens, I’ll tell you”.

“Of course… just… just be careful, alright?” he said.

Renna paused for a brief second “Is that concern? Coming from you!” she chuckled, before saying “be careful as well.”

The door to the detention block was just ahead, a heavy slab of reinforced steel that stood between him and his goal. Erland approached, his hands moving to the small console beside it. The lock was sophisticated, but not beyond his means. A few tense moments later, the light on the console flicked from red to green, and the door slid open with a quiet hiss.

“Renna, I’m in” he said into his comms.

“Alright, I’m gonna greenlight the operation to the others.”

“Copy that.”

Erland entered the detention block, the air thick with anticipation. In the dimly lit corridor, his senses heightened, alert to danger. Cells lined both sides, their heavy energy walls imprisoning shadows of former selves, their faces tired, bruised and gaunt, each wearing a shock collar stuck to their neck. Ignoring the prisoners' stirrings, he pressed on.

Distant chaos pierced the sterile silence. Far away, riots erupted, part of the unfolding plan, as prisoners found their restraints loosened and guards distracted or overpowered.

Erland's eyes narrowed as he spotted a group of armed guards charging towards the unfolding chaos, their weapons at the ready. Initially unnoticed, he took advantage of their oversight. Drawing his revolver with practiced ease, stealth gave way to action. His finger worked the trigger, discharging five shots in rapid succession. Each bullet found its mark, felling the guards with lethal precision.

As another squad hastened towards the disturbance, they were too slow to react to Erland's swift assault. He adjusted his aim and fired again. With each shot, another guard collapsed, their bodies falling into a puddle of their own gore.

Erland advanced, his movements fluid as he detached the cylinder from his revolver, reloading it with high-impact shells. The metallic click of the cylinder locking into place was nearly drowned out by the chaos around him. A guard, spear in hand, charged with an electrified vyrion spear aimed at him. Erland quickly dodged the attack, sliding through the guard’s legs, his firing at point blank range, the guard’s head snaping back with the impact, sending blood and meat through the air.

He quickly got up, grabbing the falling spear, and throwing it against another guard, jamming at their chest with full force. Erland did not stop running, vaulting over another foe, his back rolling against the guard’s back. Before his own feet hit the ground, Erland's revolver barked again, a bullet meeting its mark with a gruesome finality.

The last guard, paralyzed by a fleeting moment of shock, made a desperate attempt to flee. Futile. Erland’s aim was true, the final shot ensuring the guard's hasty retreat ended in a violent tumble, his lifeblood merging with the dirt of the corridor.

Erland leapt from the railing, channeling the arcana within him into his palm. As his feet made contact with the ground, he unleashed a shockwave, its force propelling the nearby guards against the walls with violent precision. Rising from his crouched position, he didn't hesitate; his next move was to disable their control over the prisoners. He aimed his revolver at the power supply and fired, the bullets piercing through its shielded casing with ease.

The moment the containment fields flickered and died, the prisoners sprang into action. They overpowered the dazed guards, snatching weapons from their hands in a swift, silent agreement of vengeance. There was no need for words among them; their actions spoke volumes as they turned the tide against their captors. The air was thick with the raw energy of rebellion, as the prisoners basked on the blood of their former captors, exacting retribution with every guard they overcame.

Erland gazed at the chaos that had taken place before turning his attention to the map overlay, all that was left was securing the package, before leaving and flooding the prison with the toxic air of Varnus, granting a swift end to the criminals.

“Hey! You.” Erland could hear as he moved through the chaos, the man spoke in Jarnspeak “is it you that I have to thank for freeing me?” said the man.

Erland turned his head to one of the cells, an immense grey skinned Jarnskr stood bound to a vertical metal bed, his thick strands of black hair falling over his body. He approached, his hand still holding onto the revolver.

“Hehehe, the Great Hunter blesses and fucks me this day” said the Jarnskr “Everyone is being freed, yet I’m stuck here and there is just a human to save me. I bet you can’t understand me, you whelp.”

Erland pointed the gun at his head “What’s your name” he said in Jarnspeak.

The alien widened his eyes “You understand me?” he said “name’s Dagg, Skar Dagg.”

“Why are you here?” asked Erland, his gun still held to the alien’s head.

“I’m a gladiator, a good one. The best” he said.

“Don’t try to trick me” interjected Erland “I know that the gladiators are slaves to the Graxxid, not criminals.”

“Criminals?” asked Dagg “Look around you, fool!” he gestured with his head “We are at a slave colony. I’ve been battling here for the last decades.”

Erland turned his head, gazing at the engravings on the walls, symbols of the Graxxis Trade Alliance etched on them, then his gazed turned to Dagg, only now seeing the slave brand on his arm “Impossible” he murmured.

“No, very much possible” said Dagg “Storming a Graxxid compound, you are in for a shitstorm.” He laughed, “Tell me on who’s orders you came here?”

“Y’Akriv” answered Erland, still trying to wrap his head around everything, the pieces slowly fitting in his mind.

“Ah, so the Great Hunter really blesses me. The Graxxid are eating their own” he laughed. “Well, since you already freed up everyone, could remove these binding?” the alien opened his mouth trying to smile.

“Why should I?”

“Because I can help you, who better to do this than their greatest gladiator?”

Erland gazed at the Jarnskr warrior, the realization of the operation hitting him like a shockwave. He understood now—the mission was not about recovering a package, but an attack at a rival Trade Family.

“You might be useful” said Erland as he detached the metal bindings.

Dagg fell to his knees, his hands feeling the ground, he raised his head, his hot breath turning to vapor. “The only way to protect you is this” he said.

Suddenly, Dagg charged tackling Erland, the mercenary could feel the gun slipping away from his hand, as the Jarskr carried him and forcefully bashed his body against the walls.

Erland could feel himself pinned against the metal walls of the complex, Dagg pressed his forearm on the human’s chest, making his body ache with the pressure. Erland lowered his hand, grabbing the noctran on his belt.

“There is no hiding from the Graxxid” said Dagg “Better to finish you off right here, little man.”

“W… wait” said Erland “You don’t have to do this, you can still live.” He pressed the noctran on Dagg’s body, prompting the alien to look down.

Dagg gazed at the hilt “Th… this weapon” he murmured before dropping Erland “This… it changes everything”.

Erland fell to the ground gasping for air, his vision swimming. Desperation clawed at him as he reached for his noctran blade, activating it for the first time in years. The hilt hummed weakly, struggling to channel the power within him.

A flickering beam of bright blue energy sputtered to life, unstable and barely holding form. The blade's once brilliant light was now a faded, weak glow, trembling as if unsure of its existence. As he watched, the blue slowly changed to a dull, burning orange, his strained connection to the arcane making it waver. The blade screeched, its unstable energy breaking and struggling to stay alight.

Erland stared at the orange blade, a mix of surprise and resignation flickering across his face. The color reflecting his years of violence and anger. The weak, unstable glow was a stark reminder of how far he had fallen from his former self.

Dagg laughed “It has been a while since I saw one of these” said Dagg “I know your weapon” he pointed at the noctran “Blue and now orange, tell me, you’ve been living a violent life, have you not? Veyd”

“How do you know?” asked Erland, his voice firm, the blade still burning.

“I know about your crystals and how they work” he said, “I was friends with your order… a long time ago.” Dagg pointed to the blade one more time “besides, if you were a Draethar, we both would be dead.”

“Both?” asked Erland, deactivating the blade.

“Yeah, I would not let one of these fuckers take me down, at least not alone.”

Erland let out a laugh.

“But you are strange for a Veyd” mused Dagg “orange blade and the willingness to just cut me down, does your order approves of this?”

“The order is dead” said Erland, taking off his helmet “I’m the last one that remains.”

Dagg did not say anything, his face contorting into sadness, rage, and grief at the same time “I’m… I’m sorry. I had good friend within the order.”

“So did I,” said Erland.

Dagg stood up, his towering figure casting a shadow over Erland. "What's your plan now, Veyd?"

“I will finish this mission” answered Erland, putting his helmet back.

“Well, my offer stands then” said Dagg.

“What, you ‘killing me?”

“Hehe, no. You ‘being a Veyd changes everything” he said, “I can help you fight, stay with you, perhaps find out if any other survived.”

“The Veyd are dead. I was there when it all happened, I have lived this hell since then” said Erland “There is no point in that”.

“Your order might be gone, but you carry its legacy” said Dagg “Look at what you did here, the slaves are freed, your intervention led them to take up arms.”

“They were a distraction” said Erland “we had no plans on saving them.”

“You lie to yourself, your first reaction was to ask if I was a criminal” he said, “you may not have had the intention, yet, these people will reclaim their lives now” Dagg rested a hand on Erland’s shoulder “Think of the good you can do with just that sword.”

Erland let out a sight “I… I don’t know, I’ve been hiding for so long.”

“I can imagine that, but you can still help others, fight for what matters” Dagg said.

Erland pulled the revolver to his hand, with his telekinesis, his mind racing. "We finish the mission," he said firmly. "We get the so-called package and get out. After that... we'll see."

Dagg nodded, a newfound respect in his eyes. "Lead the way, Erland of the Veyd. Let's see this mission through."

Together, they moved stealthily through the complex's corridors, now echoing with the sounds of the riot they had unleashed. Erland's HUD flickered with updates from Renna and the others, signaling that chaos had fully taken hold.

As they neared the heart of the complex, Erland slowed, signaling Dagg to a halt. Ahead, the corridor opened into a large chamber, heavily guarded despite the ongoing turmoil. "The location is just up ahead," Erland whispered, pointing towards a door at the end of the chamber.

Dagg's eyes narrowed. "Looks like we'll have to fight our way through."

Erland checked his revolver. "Well, can you keep up?"

A grin spread across Dagg's face, as he cracked his neck and fists. "Watch and learn, little Veyd."

Dagg stepped out into the open, his presence immediately drawing the attention of the guards. With a roar that echoed through the corridors, he charged, the very embodiment of the Jarnskr strength and savagery. Erland followed, picking off guards distracted by Dagg's onslaught with precise shots.

The Jarnskr warrior unleashed his fury upon the guards, crushing them with his bare hands. Erland used the chaos as cover, advancing steadily towards their objective. The chamber reverberated with the sounds of combat—shoots fired, the heavy thuds of Dagg's encounters, and the shouts of the overwhelmed guards.

As the battle intensified, Erland moved through the hall, eliminating threats with calm precision, his focus unwavering even as the battle intensified around him. Dagg, in contrast, was a whirlwind of violence, using his brute strength and any weapons he could get his hands on to disrupt and dismantle their opposition.

Reaching the door, Erland quickly connected the device to bypass the lock. He turned to the hall, his revolver aimed, only to see Dagg carelessly walking towards him, with both a scattershot and vyrion spear in his hands. The warrior was painted in blood, not a single wound visible on his thick carapace.

“Guess that was all of them” said Erland, lowering his revolver.

“And I guess you can handle yourself” said Dagg. “I won’t lie, I’m disappointed that you didn’t use your sword.”

“No need to draw attention” he answered, his gaze instinctively shifting to the noctran hilt on his belt.

“You wouldn’t draw attention if they were dead” he chuckled.

Suddenly, his communicator shot up to life “Erland, where are you?” Renna’s voice, tense with urgency filled his ears.

“Almost there” he answered, “I’m just unlocking the last door.”

“Great, I’ll need you to be a little faster” she said, “Everybody is coming this way to secure the package.”

“Alright, hold for jus…” Erland started, however before finishing his sentence, he saw soldier pouring in from the other side of the hall, each well-armed, outmanning them.

Erland gazed at the device, the bypass was complete. “We better finish them off quickly” he said.

Dagg turned to him, the intensity of the fight reflected in his eyes. "No. You go," he bellowed, his voice carrying over the clamor. "I'll hold them here. Finish your mission, Veyd."

“Dagg, there are far too many, you won’t survive” he said.

“I’ve faced far worse than this” the Jarnskr said, cocking his gun and readying to charge.

Erland hesitated for a moment, before nodding to the Jarnskr. Dagg charged at the enemies, roaring with a primal fury.

With a final glance back at the warrior, who had become a storm of motion among the guards, Erland pressed the panel. The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a metallic hallway.

Chapter IV: Shadows of Betrayal

"In the forge's embrace, Vey'an stands,
Gazing deep where the future lands.
Vision bright as the eagle takes flight,
Claws of light in the basilisk's night [...]"
Excerpt of “The Destruction of the Dark Prophecy” by Veyd Forgemaster Eldris Vey'an - 20 Before Liberation.

The door hissed shut behind Erland, sealing him off from the chaos of battle. The corridor beyond was starkly silent, a sharp contrast to the tumult he had just left behind. Metallic walls lined with conduits and cables stretched ahead, leading him deeper into the heart of the complex.

Erland moved swiftly, the urgency of Renna’s last message and the silent that followed propelling him forward, his HUD indicating the location of the package and his team.

As Erland neared the end of the corridor, his steps carrying him closer to the source of hushed voices and impatient steps, adorned by the occasional metallic clink of weapons. He pressed himself against the metal wall, his team was just on the other side.

The corridor gave way to a vast chamber, the harsh light from overhead panels casting stark shadows across its expanse. There, at the chamber's heart, stood his crew, their stance tense as Nyx fidgeted with a locked door. Solina walked impatiently in circles around him.

Erland stepped forward, quickly joining them, “Solina” he called out, his voice echoing through the chamber, drawing the attention of the entire team.

Solina looked up, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Erland. "You're late," she said, a hint of irritation in her tone.

“I’m surprised he survived” he could hear Taro saying.

“Took the scenic route, had to admire the beautiful vista” he answered, taking off his helmet “this is where the package is?”

“Aye” she answered, “The sooner we end this, the sooner we can return home.”

Erland paused for a second, taking a deep breath “Did you know?” he asked.

“Erland…” commented Renna.

“What?”

“This facility is a slave camp for another Graxxid family.”

Her eyes narrowed once again, her mouth opening.

“Who else did know?” he asked before she could say anything.

“What?” asked Renna.

Solina took a deep breath “We all did, except for your friend here.” she said “Y’Akriv made up this excuse to have you on the job, knew you wouldn’t accept otherwise.”

“Attacking a Graxxid family is bad for business” he said, “What else haven’t you told me?”

Solina gazed at him, her mouth slowly opening as if she tried to juggle the words on her lips “Just…” yet before she could answer the door opened.

Erland shifted his gaze to the door as a group of different aliens huddled together, bound by metallic collars, frightened, their eyes searching the room for with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

“What…” said Erland as he gazed at the slaves.

Solina did not wait for his sentence to finish, quickly pointing her pistol to the Tvvix that stood at the front of the group. The small alien’s eyes widened in horror as they recoiled. The rest of the crew quickly drew their weapons, all pointed at the slaves.

“What are you doing?” asked Erland, his revolver draw at Solina “who are these people?” he asked, slowly approaching the crew.

“They are the package” she answered, “We have to eliminate them.”

“What?” intervened Renna, her weapon not yet drawn.

“Eliminate? The mission was to extract.” He said, now closer to them.

“Yes, that was the other part we didn’t tell you” She said, her weapon still pointed at them “they are terrorists, attacked an imperial city and tried to seek refuge within the Graxxid.”

Erland’s gaze shifted to the group “how can you be sure it’s true?” he asked.

“Y’Akriv gave me all the details, the reports of the destruction they wreaked, casualty numbers.”

“How can I be sure you are speaking the truth?”

“You’ll have to trust me on that, Erland” she said, “We must kill them right now.”

“Ask them” he said “ask them what city they attacked” he said, standing in front of the group of aliens.

“Erland, don’t do this” said Renna “they will kill you.”

“Solina, he’s giving too much trouble, let’s just shoot him and be done” suggested Korath in his native tongue, the barrel of his gun starting to spin.

Solina shook her head, before turning to the group “What city have you attacked?” she asked.

“Wh… what?” answered the Tvvix, in her native tongue, her voice dominated by fear. “Th… there m… m… must be some kind of mistake, we are just slaves, recently bought.”

“Irilian” she answered, “they’ve attacked Irilian” her gaze turned to Erland. There is your answer, now let’s end this.”

“You are lying” he protested, quickly grabbing the noctran hilt on his belt “they are recently brought slaves.”

Solina’s eyes widened “how can you…”

Before she could finish the sentence, he ignited the blade. Its beam shrieked to life, the orange glow illuminating her face, fear starting to creep up on it. The light still a weak, trembling glow, the blade’s energy wavering, yet burning with hate. Seeing this, Renna quickly grabbed her weapon and pointed it at Ahni.

“Fuck, Erland!” she said, with fear and hate in her voice.

“Why is the empire after these slaves?” he asked.

“I… I don’t…”

He did not wait for her to finish. Without a moment's hesitation, he brought the blade down in a lethal sweep across Solina's neck. The unstable energy of the noctran screeched as it parted her head from her shoulders with a single blow.

Before the team could grasp the reality of the situation, Erland unleashed his telekinesis with deadly intent. The arcane energy burst forth, a chaotic surge that yanked Nyx's rebreather away along with several nearby objects, sending them flying across the room. The Telerian gasped as the air of the complex assaulted his lungs, his eyes wide with panic as he clawed at his throat, desperate for breath.

Erland advanced. Korath barely had time to raise his defenses before Erland's blade found its mark, carving a deep gash across his armored chest. The blade flickered and wavered, but its unstable energy was deadly. At the same moment, Erland's other hand drew his revolver, its barrel steady. A single shot rang out, echoing off the metal walls, as Taro crumpled to the ground, the slug tearing off part of his head.

Renna, caught in the maelstrom, shot at Ahni. However, Ahni quickly dodged out of the way, kicking Renna in the stomach. She turned to flee, dashing towards the corridors. Yet, with a flick of his wrist, Erland sent his noctran blade spinning across the room, its bright, unstable trail dancing in the air. It struck Ahni squarely in the back, her momentum carrying her forward before she collapsed in a heap.

On the floor, Nyx's struggle was futile, his fingers scrabbling for the rebreather just out of reach. Renna, regaining her footing, approached and with a resigned sigh, she aimed her weapon at the downed Telerian. The gunshot was quick, mercifully ending his struggle.

The chamber, fell into almost complete silence, if not for the hum of the noctran and the breathing of the slaves.

“What the fuck was that, Erland?” asked Renna, breaking the silence.

“They were lying, these are not terrorists” he answered, recalling his blade with his arcane power.

“Yes, I got that, but this sword… what are you?”

Erland turned to face Renna, his expression somber. “I’m a Veyd,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m no master,” Erland demurred, a hint of sadness in his tone. “I’m barely a Veyd these days.”

“That’s not true. You saved us,” insisted another alien, “just like the stories we grew up on.”

Erland paused, then asked, “Why did Y’Akriv want to kill you?”

“We don’t know,” Na’quira replied. “We were just brought here by our previous owner, Lord Kennyr Burley.”

“Did you witness something you weren’t supposed to?” Renna asked, her neurosync facilitating communication.

“No, we did nothing but chores and told stories to the children.”

“Stories?”

“About the old Galactic Alliance, about your order and prophecies we once held, Master Veyd.”

“That wouldn’t sit well with the Empire,” Erland reasoned. “We need to find a safe place for you.”

“I know a location,” Renna offered, “far from Imperial space. They won’t find you there.”

“Can I trust you to take them?”

“Absolutely,” she affirmed, then glanced at the bodies around them. “We still need to address this,” she gestured towards the fallen. “Hax will want confirmation, and once he learns what happened, we’ll all be in danger.”

“Y’Akriv took a gamble against another house. We’ll bring this to one of his rivals,” Erland determined. “I’ll handle it; he won’t be a problem anymore.”

“I trust you,” she said, just as heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor, prompting her to ready her weapon.

Erland, blade in hand, sensed a familiar presence approaching rapidly.

Dagg emerged from the shadows, his appearance marked by the trials of combat, still wielding his scattershot. “Looks like I missed the fun,” he observed, surveying the scene.

“Dagg!” Erland exclaimed with relief, signaling Renna to stand down. “You’re alive!”

“Did you doubt it, Veyd?” Dagg retorted with a grin.

“Friend of yours?” Asked Renna.

“This is Dagg, I met him while freeing the prisoners” Erland answered. “You came just in time. We’re leaving.”

“About time,” Dagg said, while approaching. Upon gazing at the body of Korath, he halted for a second, before spitting at it. “Vhorn scum. Did you have fun?”

“I took no pleasure in it,” Erland replied.

“Shame. He would have relished it,” Dagg laughed, a dark humor in his tone.

“Master Veyd, wait,” said Na’quira, urgency lacing her voice as she halted Erland's departure. Without waiting for a response, she darted back into the dimly lit room from which they had emerged.

Moments later, she returned, her arms cradling something carefully in her hands. As she approached Erland, her eyes gleamed with a mix of reverence and determination. Gently, she opened her hands to reveal a small, worn fabric pouch.

“Inside this pouch are chips,” she whispered, her eyes alight with a mix of reverence and hope “recordings of your order we managed to save” she offered it to Erland “Stories, wisdom, combat techniques, and messages, it belongs to you” Na’quira explained, her voice quivering with emotion.

Erland accepted the pouch. “How did you come to possess these?” he asked, curiosity and gratitude mingling in his voice.

“My family served the Veyd for generations. Before what happened to the order, Master Irulan entrusted these to my father, hoping he would protect them, hoping that someday they would find their way back to a Veyd's hands,” she said. “Irulan believed that these teachings could inspire a new dawn for the Order, even during these darkest times.”

Erland held the pouch, feeling a strange connection to it. “These teachings... I thank you for your trust,” he answered, tucking the pouch away securely.

Na’quira nodded, a mixture of relief and pride evident in her expression. “With you, Master Veyd, I believe there is hope for us all. May these teachings illuminate your path.”

As the engine of the rover roared once again, Erland and Dagg made their way across the scarred landscape of Varnus, their vehicle jumping at every rock, as the storms quickly flooding the view panel.

After a couple of hours, the landscape changed, as they entered the outpost, Erland gazed at Renna’s vehicle at his side, as they took different paths across the land.

“Never thought I'd be fighting alongside a Veyd,” Dagg mused, his voice tinged with a respect hard-earned through battle. “Or that I'd be fighting for something more than survival.”

Erland glanced at the Jarnskr. “I know how you feel,” he replied, the hint of a smile touching his lips. "It's a good feeling, isn’t it? Keeps us going."

“You bet” answered Dagg.

As they reached the hangar where the Wayfarer awaited, its familiar silhouette a sight for sore eyes, Erland brought the rover to a halt. The engines powered down with a soft whir, their silence marking the end of one journey and the promise of another. Dagg hopped off, his massive frame making the ground seem to tremble underfoot. Erland followed, pausing to take in the sight of Renna's ship nearby, its engines warming up for departure.

“Seems we're parting ways again,” Renna called out on the comms.

“For now,” Erland called back. “Keep them safe, Renna.”

“We will” she answered “And you—take care of yourself, Erland. There are still stories left to be told.”

“Always” he replied, seeing her ship quickly departing.

Erland turned to Dagg, clapping the Jarnskr on the shoulder. "Welcome home, Dagg”

“This seems a little bit too small” he answered.

“Well, don’t blame me, you are the one that wanted to come” Erland chuckled “Now, let's get going. There's more out there for us."

“Where to then?” asked Dagg.

“Leviathan’s Rest, I better clean my name, before doing anything else” answered Erland.

Dagg grinned, a fierce gleam in his eyes. “After you, Veyd.”

Together, they boarded the Wayfarer, the ramp closing behind them with a resolute hiss. Erland settled into the cockpit, the controls lighting up at his touch, Dagg found a seat, strapping in as the engines roared to life.

As the Wayfarer lifted off, carving a path through Varnus’s blackened skies, and breaking free from its grasp, Erland spared no glance to the moon, quickly adjusting his route and engaging into hyperspace.

Chapter V: The Path Forged

"Leviathan's Rest, a name whispered with reverence and dread, marks the final resting place of a cosmic titan of unknown origin. Their skeletal remains, now cradles of life and bastions of the fringe, a monument to birth, death, and rebirth that governs the universe. This graveyard of giants, transformed by the outcasts, the scum and the disenfranchised, has become a sanctuary for criminals, pirates, mercenaries, and others seeking refuge from the laws and judgments of centralized powers. Here, amidst the bones of ancient leviathans, new societies take root, thriving in the interstices of life and death." -The Leviathan’s Rest (unknown author)

As the Wayfarer drifted through the silence of hyperspace, its destination set for Leviathan's Rest, Erland found himself in the cockpit, the dim lights casting long shadows. The quiet hum of the ship was a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within him. In his hands, he held one of the Veyd chips Na’quira had - given him, its surface cool and unassuming, yet he knew the weight of the history it carried.

Dagg entered, his massive frame somehow fitting into the confined space. He nodded towards the chip. “You've been staring at that thing since we left Varnus,” he noted, a hint of concern in his voice. “What's holding you back?"

Erland sighed, the frustration almost tangible. "I don’t know, it's been some time since I looked at anything from the Veyd." he admitted. "It’s like staring at a past I can barely remember.”

“My father used to say that the past has a way of catching up with us, whether we're ready or not,” Dagg replied, his voice tinged with empathy. “Maybe it's time for you to face it head-on.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it” said Erland, his eyes shifting to the pouch of chips “Hells, I don’t even know where to start. All these chips have different inscriptions, no order, no number, or anything.”

A knowing chuckle rumbled from Dagg. “Hesitation is natural,” he said, then, pausing thoughtfully, added, “Have you heard the tale of Skarn?”

“Skarn The Black?” Erland queried, memories of youth surfacing. “I recall fragments from my younger days but little else.”

“To your people, he may be Skarn The Black, but to mine, he was Skarn the Unifier.” Dagg’s posture relaxed against the ship's console. “Skarn was not just another warrior; he was a visionary. Amidst the chaos of our fractious conflicts and the relentless fight for survival, he sought unity for the Jarnskr.”

Erland listened, the pieces of history he had known only in fragments coming together in a narrative he hadn’t fully understood “He was a murderer, attacked the Alliance during peace time and killed billions” Erland interjected.

"Yes, Skarn's ambition didn't merely end with uniting the Jarnskr clans," Dagg continued, his voice carrying a blend of reverence and sorrow. "He saw your Alliance as weak and corrupt, declared war against it, believing it was the only path forward, believing it was a future where Jarnskr would not just survive but thrive."

"But Skarn fell," said Erland softly, recalling the tale's end. "He was defeated by Veyd General Tyran Cassel in single combat."

"Yes," Dagg affirmed, his gaze distant. "Skarn's death was a turning point. But what followed was worse than defeat in battle." His voice grew heavy. "The Alliance, in their fear of another uprising, resorted to chemical bombardments against our planets and people. They sought to ensure the Jarnskr would not pose a threat again, making much of our species sterile. It was a blow from which we've struggled to recover, both in numbers and spirit. But we adapted to ensure our culture would survive."

The weight of such revelations hung in the air between them. Erland could only imagine the depth of loss and betrayal Dagg, and his people felt. “Yes” said Erland, breaking the silence “I know about your kin, people adopted from other species into your clans.”

Dagg nodded, his gaze returning to the present, fixing on Erland. "Why do I tell you this? Because, Skarn’s legacy is twofold, to you he is a monster, but to us he was a great man. The past, with all its glory and pain, offers lessons, not chains.”

Erland turned the chip over in his hands, considering Dagg's words. The weight of his past, the burden of being perhaps the last Veyd, felt heavier in that moment. "A beacon for the future," he echoed, skepticism threading through his tone. "The Veyd were guardians, protectors, but look where that got us. Nearly extinct, our teachings nearly lost, our people... gone." The jadedness in his voice was palpable, a reflection of a soul that had seen too much, lost too much.

Dagg watched him, a steady presence in the small cockpit. "Yes, but extinction is not yet a certainty, not while you breathe," he countered gently. "You see a chip. I see possibility. Your people's downfall was not because they were protectors but because they were outnumbered, outmaneuvered. The galaxy needs guardians, Erland. Perhaps not in the way the Veyd once were, but in a new form. You can redefine what it means to be Veyd."

Erland shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Redefine the Veyd?" He looked out into the swirling colors of hyperspace, a silent witness to their conversation. "I'm not sure I know how to be a Veyd anymore, Dagg. Not after everything."

"That's the point, isn't it?" Dagg leaned forward, his voice earnest. "You're not bound by the old ways. Skarn's dream was flawed because he clung too tightly to a singular vision. Your strength, your gift, could be in weaving a new dream, one that learns from the past but is not chained to it."

Before Erland could answer, the Wayfarer’s AI chirped to life as it started disengaging from hyperspace.

“Well, we’ve arrived,” said Erland, his gaze still on the chip in his hand.

“Yes,” answered Dagg. “Think about what we’ve talked about, and then make your decision.”

As Dagg turned to leave, Erland felt the familiar ache in his head and the tremor in his hands. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a vial of Dylithium Sync and an injector. With a resigned sigh, he pressed the injector to his neck, feeling the cold metal against his skin. The burn of the Dylithium Sync coursed through his veins, dulling the pain and the constant hum of the arcane energy.

Dagg paused at the doorway, his eyes catching the motion. "Erland, you know that stuff is only a temporary fix. It numbs you, but it doesn't heal."

Erland met Dagg’s gaze, a mix of defiance and resignation in his eyes. "It's the only thing that keeps me steady," he replied. "Without it, I’m no good to anyone."

Dagg nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Just remember, you're stronger than you think. Don’t let it control you." The Jarnskr said, departing from the cockpit, leaving Erland alone with his thoughts and the weight of his past.