They walked in together, a unified line of Imperators and the woman who had brought them into being. Vaeliyan led, shoulders squared, wet hair plastered back and the Fist of the Legion gleaming over his heart. The others followed in silence, every one of them bound together by the rings that linked their souls and the living bonds that came with them. Bastard rested on Vaeliyan's shoulder in his house cat form, glossy black scales catching the light like liquid glass. Momo was in Lessa's prosthetic arms, her compact body curled against the girl's chest. Styll sat quietly in the pocket where Vaeliyan's right handkerchief would normally rest, her silver fur dim in the glow but her eyes alert and bright. Helen closed the door behind them, sealing the room and its tension in equal measure. The air grew heavier, the sound of their synchronized steps fading into stillness as the council screens glowed to life.

Ruka had been waiting. She stood at the head of the room with the insignia of the Legion blazing behind her, hands clasped, posture sharp. The glow from the screens cast shifting light across her as the council members leaned in, curious and cautious. The quiet was sharp, the kind that breaks before something important happens.

Ruka's face softened just enough to show she'd been satisfied with the contents of the data pad. She arced a hand toward the squad and began the introductions exactly as she had planned. "Brothers and sisters of the council, it is my honor to introduce to you…" She glanced at the data pad in her hand, froze, and muttered under her breath, "Fuck." Then louder, "The Complaints Department. The newest full squadron of High Imperators from the Red Citadel."

The council chamber erupted with murmurs.

One of the commanders, his voice sharp and skeptical, cut through the noise. "What do you mean, Ruka? There were no promising classes reported from the Red this cycle. The summaries showed nothing of the sort. None of the fourth year classes let alone the Red were expected to rise as a squadron."

Ruka's smirk was almost imperceptible. "Yes, well, the data you received was… different than the one I got. I'm forwarding you my copy now." She gestured to Helen, who stood just behind her with a data pad already in hand.

Helen nodded crisply. "Transmitting to the rest of the council now."

A moment later, the nine screens flickered again, each filling with light as the footage began to play. The room filled with silence, then with shock. One of the commanders leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "This can't be real."

"That's what I thought too," Ruka said smoothly. "Until I contacted Ruby directly. She confirmed one hundred percent authenticity. I have dozens of other recordings from alternate angles confirming the same results. The footage is genuine." She paused for effect, letting their disbelief simmer before continuing. "Yes, they achieved High Imperator status in one year as a squad and Vaeliyan Verdance has completed the ninth layer and not only that he beat Barcus. They completed the Shatterlight Trial. And they were the ones who took Graveholt. It's been blacklisted, yes, but they got it done when no one else could. They rewrote the entire warfront. And they did it as cadets."

Several of the commanders straightened at that, disbelief turning to something closer to anger.

A murmur rose from one screen. "There's no way. No one beats Barcus."

Ruka's eyes glittered. "I'll send you the recordings. I'll send you every angle I have. You can watch him win." She rested a hand on the data pad like a gauntlet. "He is the newest and most likely candidate for the apex."

Ruka smiled, slow and venomous. "Now I get to parade them across the lines I want them to hold. So, no more of this bullshit about me not getting to do what I want. I know what needs to be done, and I'm going to get it done, so you can all fuck off. I'm as much a member of this council as the rest of you, so stop fucking with me. If I want to drop every single cadet into Nespói until that forest burns, I will. And maybe I won't even need to anymore. Maybe I've already gotten the tools I needed for it."

She reached out and severed the feeds to eight screens in a single motion, leaving only one display active. The Primark's.

The towering screen filled the chamber with shadow. The Primark's figure remained indistinct, a silhouette seated behind a desk of light. When he spoke, his voice was calm, low, and absolute. "You've made your point, Ruka."

She inclined her head, the steel in her eyes dimming to something closer to respect. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize," the Primark said. "Results speak louder than compliance. And your results are exemplary."

"Thank you, sir." She said.

The Primark leaned forward, though his features never came into view. "You've earned your freedom to act, but remember, everything you do now reflects the Legion itself."

Ruka nodded. "Understood."

The Primark's image flickered once before fading entirely, leaving the chamber in near darkness. The glow from the Legion's crest reflected faintly off Ruka's armor.

Helen stepped forward, data pad still in hand. "That could've gone worse."

Ruka allowed herself a grin. "That's why you're here, to make sure it doesn't."

Ruka turned toward them, expression caught between disbelief and weary tolerance. "So… did you really have to choose such a dumb name?"

Vaeliyan didn't flinch. "Yes, ma'am."

Ruka blinked once, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Of course you did."

Jurpat added, "It was either that or the Cleanup Crew. We didn't really feel like being a called bunch of janitors."

Ruka exhaled through her nose, a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Fair. Still dumb, but fair. And honestly, it's fitting. I get to use you as my actual complaints department. Considering what I'm about to dump on you, it's appropriate."

She straightened, hands clasped behind her back. "But first, let's give you some new shinnies. Follow me."

Vaeliyan raised an eyebrow. "New shinnies?"

Ruka's cybernetic eye flickered as she turned on her heel. "You're getting your skycraft."

Xera froze mid-step. "Wait, we get a skycraft?"

Helen, walking just behind Ruka, smiled faintly. "Not just any skycraft. An RZ-982 Special Edition. Also known as the Bolt Fire."

Chime's voice jumped an octave. "That model's not even out yet."

"Of course it's not," Ruka said. "It's brand new. And my new squad deserves a proper mode of transportation."

Vaeliyan muttered, "We're getting spoiled."

Ruka smirked. "You're going to need it. Let's go to the hangar and check it out."

Wesley hesitated. "Uh… out there? In the cold?"

Before Ruka could answer, Sylen shook her head. "No, no, we've got hangars underground. Do you think High Command trudges through blizzards to inspect ships?"

Ruka nodded. "Exactly. Follow me."

They moved through winding corridors, deeper underground. The walls shifted from polished steel to smooth rock reinforced with old alloy plating. The air warmed as they descended, lights dimming to amber bands that marked each turn. Finally, a pressure door slid open, and the hangar spread out before them.

It was enormous. Rows of prototype skycraft lined the deck beside heavy haulers, armored transports, and zoomers. Each machine gleamed beneath white floodlights, half-disassembled or prepped for final calibration.

Vaeliyan stopped dead, eyes wide, pulse quickening. Out of everyone in the squad, he was the only one who looked at the zoomers with pure, greedy excitement. Fast, dangerous, and loud, they were everything he adored. "Are… are we getting any of those?" he asked, pointing to a razor-thin zoomer that looked fast enough to slice time itself.

Ruka glanced over. "These ones are new; they run on a microchromite filter that drowns out the sound. They're whisper quiet, fast as Quicksilver, smooth as sin."

Vaeliyan's grin widened. "Oh, dear gods. I need one now."

Ruka arched an eyebrow. "Do you want one?"

He grinned. "I want all of them."

Ruka tilted her head. "Those weren't part of the package. I didn't plan to give you personal zoomers."

Vaeliyan's grin turned manic, eyes bright. "Please. Please, ma'am. I'll take one straight into my veins."

Ruka's cybernetic eye ticked. "Fine. I'll throw them in. You look like you'll combust if I don't."

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Chime blinked. "Wait, really? I don't want one."

Vaeliyan laughed, borderline giddy. "You don't get it. They're the only honest things left. Fast as hell, stupid as sin. I want the fastest one you've got."

A low ripple of unease passed through the others. Zoomers were thrilling, yes, but dangerous. A wrong move could peel armor off bone. Wesley rubbed his neck. "We can drive them, sure, but I don't want to die doing tricks between missiles."

Ruka's mouth twitched. "Nobody's asking for tricks. You want the fastest, you'll get the fastest. But treat them like tools, not toys. One screw-up and I take them back."

Vaeliyan's grin widened. "Fast. Always fast."

Chime muttered, "You want me to sit on a bomb."

Vaeliyan shrugged. "Chime, everything's a bomb at this point. Going fast just makes it prettier when it blows."

Ruka cut in, tone sharp. "Enough. Each of you gets a zoomer. It's yours. You do what you want with it. Better to have it than not." Ruka rubbed at the side of her head, the faintest sign of fatigue creeping through her posture. "I see now why you're called the Complaints Department. I get it. I have so many already. Moving on."

They followed her to the far end of the hangar, where something massive waited beneath a sheath of protective light. With a low hydraulic sigh, the containment field disengaged, and the Bolt Fire revealed itself.

It was breathtaking: four wings sleekly folded into a cruciform body, hull of mirror-smooth alloy that shifted from silver to pale violet under the lights. The undercarriage gleamed with armor plating dense enough to take a missile barrage without buckling. Its engines hummed like a heartbeat.

"This is yours," Ruka said. "Camouflage system integrated. Noise profile nearly zero. It lands like a whisper and hits like judgment. Even if you dropped into the hells themselves, no one would see you coming."

The squad just stood there, silent.

Ruka raised an eyebrow. "You can say thank you now."

Sixteen voices rose together. "Thank you, ma'am!"

Ruka gestured toward the open ramp. "Go on. Check it out."

Inside, the Bolt Fire felt like a fortress disguised as a ship, every surface gleaming with precision and intent. The corridors were wide enough to march through in full armor, yet still sleek and beautiful like something out of a dream. Along the walls, faint lines of silver light ran through embedded circuitry, casting an ambient glow that made the space feel alive. There were quarters, real quarters, with reinforced bunks, fold-out desks, and personal lockers for every member of the squad. Each door sealed with a whisper, designed for quiet travel and long deployments. A med vat chamber, galley, training compartment, and tactical suite ran down the ship's central spine, their equipment gleaming under soft white light.

It was much larger than Kasala's private skycraft, and it showed in every inch. His ship had been a commander's toy; this was an operational bastion built for a squad that expected to be surrounded and still win. The Bolt Fire could host a dozen missions without docking, every inch of its design focused on endurance, silence, and adaptability. Even the air smelled of power, coolant, ozone, and that metallic polish that meant it hadn't seen combat yet.

Chime was practically vibrating. "Oh, this is beautiful," she said, running her fingers along the bulkhead like it was something sacred. "Kasala's was decent, but this, this is a whole other species of ship. The airflow systems alone could probably keep a platoon alive for months. Look at the buffers! They're the hex-spined kind, the same ones used in stealth-tier scouts!"

Wesley chuckled and leaned against the wall. "You're way too into this."

Chime didn't even turn. "Top of the line, straight off the line. The RZ series wasn't even supposed to leave prototype until next quarter. This one must've come straight from the foundry. Look, see those alloy seams? They're seamless. Fully pressure-synced. No vibrations, no sound bleed. Whoever designed this had art in their blood."

Vaeliyan smirked, folding his arms. "Guess we get the perks of being her headaches."

Chime shot him a grin over her shoulder. "You're not kidding. It's got everything. Amenities, comfort, stealth tech, climate control, gravity rings, hells, it's almost as fancy as your house, Vaeliyan."

He tilted his head with mock offense. "Almost?"

She nodded, still grinning. "Almost. But quieter and slightly less lethal. No House or no Roundy."

Vaeliyan laughed under his breath. "Yeah. That is a blessing."

Roan pushed through the group, scanning the hangar from end to end. "Guys, there are like twelve haulers in here. We're set up for a gods damned siege. This thing is enormous. There's no way it's as quiet as High Commander Ruka says it is, right?"

Chime rolled her eyes and waved him off. "It is. Trust me. This ship is as silent as they come. The microchromite filters in those zoomers Vael wants to kill us with? They were the test prototypes for this hull."

She paced toward the wall panel, tapping a finger along its smooth plating. "These filters dampen every vibration, every echo. The engine cycle runs through a harmonic phase-cancellation field. Even if you drop from orbit, no one below will hear more than the wind changing direction."

Wesley frowned, peering down one of the engine conduits. "So, it's invisible and silent? That's cheating."

Chime shrugged. "That's progress."

Roan still looked skeptical. "And what if we land on something? A building, a tank, a squad?"

"Then we'll crush it," Chime said with a bright, unbothered smile. "And unless that something screams loud enough, we still won't be heard."

Vaeliyan gave a low whistle. "That's morbidly impressive."

"Efficient," Chime corrected. "Morbid is when you care about the noise it makes."

Ruka called them back out once they had finished exploring, her voice echoing through the hangar like a blade against steel. The squad gathered again at the foot of the Bolt Fire's ramp, their boots clanging lightly against the metal. The air smelled faintly of polish, the scent of something new that hadn't yet tasted war. Every one of them carried a spark of awe in their eyes, even the ones who tried to hide it behind their military discipline.

Ruka crossed her arms and gave them that measured look she always did, equal parts command and curiosity. "So," she began, her tone crisp but almost amused, "how do you like your first, well, I suppose your first two rewards?"

Vaeliyan stood apart for a moment, still watching the loading crews secure their newly assigned zoomers into the ship's hold. The sight of it, his zoomer, their zoomers, made something bright flicker in his chest. He turned just as the squad spoke in unison.

"We love it, ma'am!"

Ruka's lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. "Good. That was the first of your rewards." She paused, tapping a finger against her forearm, then her expression shifted, less satisfaction, more intent. "The next one's… well, this one's mostly for you."

Her gaze locked on Vaeliyan, assessing him the way one might a weapon they'd just drawn from the forge. "This is something every High Imperator receives, but this particular one falls under my direct authority as High Commander. It's called the Autonomy Charter."

She reached into her long coat and withdrew a small case, opening it to reveal a circular seal forged from layered hematite and brushed steel. The surface shimmered faintly with circuitry that pulsed like veins, and at its center burned the white emblem of the Fist of the Legion. Tiny screaming skulls circled the edge, animated, silent but alive, their mouths caught in eternal fury. The thing radiated both power and menace, like an artifact from an age when laws were carved in blood.

"This," Ruka said, holding it out for them to see, "grants you the authority of a High Imperator, specifically one under my command. You answer to no one but me or the Primark and the Emperor of course."

Her voice lowered, and there was an edge of meaning beneath it that no one missed. "Which means you only have to follow two people. If anyone else, including another High Commander, tries to give you orders you don't agree with, you can tell them to fuck right off."

The squad looked at each other, half-stunned, half-delighted. Even Jurpat cracked a grin. Vaeliyan stepped forward, taking the seal with both hands. It was heavier than it looked, warm now from her touch. The screaming skulls turned slowly toward him, the white glow pulsing like a heartbeat.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said quietly, his tone clipped with that same mix of respect and disbelief.

Ruka inclined her head. "Don't thank me yet. You've still got one more gift coming for your performance." She began to pace, her boots ringing softly on the hangar floor.

"This next one," she continued, "isn't a medal or a ship. It's a responsibility. It's called Fort Burial." The name alone made a few of them straighten up. "It's a frontier fortress just beyond the Nespói border. And before you start celebrating, understand that it's called that because no one has ever held it long enough to rename it."

Her eyes swept over them, cold and deliberate. "Every commander who took it either died defending it or abandoned it after losing too many. It's been burned, rebuilt, buried, and reclaimed so many times that even the Legion stopped pretending it was worth the cost. But it's yours now."

A murmur spread through the squad, disbelief mixing with a strange, nervous excitement. Rokhan muttered, "Fort Burial, huh. Sounds like a vacation spot."

Ruka ignored him. "You don't have to man it immediately, but if you can take it, it's your land, officially registered under your squad's name. You'll have logistical rights, local command authority, and the freedom to fortify it however you see fit. Hold it, and it'll give us the foothold we need against Nespói."

She stopped pacing and faced them again. "This is the kind of gift that kills people. But it's also the kind that makes legends. It's there, waiting, and if you claim it, make it stand, you'll carve your name into Legion history."

Silence followed. Even the hum of machinery seemed to fade for a moment. Ruka studied them, the faintest glimmer of pride hidden behind the command steel in her expression.

"I won't order you to take it," she said finally. "But it's yours, all the same."

Ruka let the silence stretch before finally nodding once. The air hung heavy with the weight of what had just been given to them. Around her, the squad stood straighter, not from discipline but from realization. They were no longer cadets. The moment had shifted, and every one of them could feel it settle into their bones.

"That will be all for now," Ruka said at last. Her voice echoed through the hangar, low and even, like a command that carried more than orders; it carried expectation. She drew in a slow breath and exhaled, posture still perfectly rigid. Her expression was composed, unreadable, but for a fleeting second there was something beneath the iron: pride, perhaps, or the quiet understanding of what she was sending them into.

"This marks the end of our first meeting together," she continued. "Tomorrow, you'll take your brand-new Bolt Fire back to the Citadel. There, you'll be presented to the world as the newest full squadron of High Imperators. The eyes of the Legion will be on you, and they'll expect greatness. Don't disappoint them."

Her gaze moved across the group one by one, letting each feel the weight of her scrutiny. Jurpat shifted slightly, Varnai adjusted her gloves, and Vaeliyan simply stood still, unreadable, but the faintest flicker of excitement crossed his eyes. Ruka caught it. She didn't comment.

"Congratulations again," she said, her voice softening slightly. "It will be a pleasure working with all of you. You've earned this, every one of you. The Bolt Fire, your command rights, your place in the Legion; these weren't gifts. You fought for them. You bled for them. And you'll keep earning them, every day that you fly my banner."

The faint edge returned to her tone, that mix of discipline and warning that defined her. "Please don't make me regret this, because if I regret this, you'll regret it more." The corners of her mouth twitched upward in something that might have been humor, or might have been a promise.

The squad straightened in unison. "Yes, ma'am!" they shouted, the sound rolling through the hangar like thunder. Even the nearby crew turned their heads at the volume, some smirking, some nodding with respect.

Ruka gave a single, crisp nod and raised her hand in the Legion salute. The motion was perfect, sharp enough to cut air. They returned it instantly, sixteen hands rising with precision, a reflection of her authority mirrored in unity.

"You're all dismissed," she said, lowering her arm. "Go get acquainted with your ship. Make it yours. And welcome to the Legion."

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Vaeliyan broke formation first, stepping back toward the Bolt Fire with that half-smile he couldn't hide. The others followed, their boots echoing across the metal floor. Behind them, Ruka watched, her eyes narrowing slightly, in thought. The next generation of the Legion had arrived far sooner than expected. She only hoped the world was ready for them.

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