Zazm walked forward through the dim corridor, the echoes of boots against the polished steel floor following him like whispers of grief.
He halted when a figure emerged from the opposite direction. Rhyes Vance — tall, calm, unreadable — walked toward him. The faint blue light of the corridor of the castle halls present there.
They both stopped midway.
Zazm lowered his head in a respectful bow but said nothing.
Rhyes's eyes lingered on him, expressionless but heavy with something unspoken. Then, he moved closer and placed a hand on Zazm's shoulder — a gesture both grounding and burdensome.
"It's not your fault," Rhyes said quietly. "And if it is, then all of us are just as accountable."
Zazm slowly straightened, his obsidian eyes meeting Rhyes's. His gaze drifted to Rhyes's hand — the statue of a bird shining in the blue hue of the corridor lights.
Rhyes noticed, withdrew his hand, and spoke with steady composure. "Come with me. We have a responsibility to fulfill."
Zazm's tone was cold, flat. "What responsibility?"
"A responsibility," Rhyes replied, "that only the Supreme Commanders fulfill."
Without another word, Zazm raised his hand. A circular portal of voidlight shimmered into existence before them. Both stepped through instantly, disappearing from the corridor.
They emerged within the NullFlux Bastion — a place that felt less like a fortress and more like a world unto itself. Miles of metal and glass stretched across a city of soldiers, towers, hangars, energy conduits, and training zones. Billions of soldiers lived within its metallic sprawl — humanity's strongest, most fortified refuge.
The guards at the entrance straightened instantly, saluting with precision. "Supreme Commander Rhyes! Commander Zazm!"
Rhyes didn't acknowledge them. His stride didn't falter for a second. Zazm followed behind, silent as a shadow.
They passed through countless sectors — the medical wards, engineering domes, the research corridors — until they reached the upper command spire. There, Rhyes entered his office and immediately took his seat behind the heavy black desk, its surface alive with faintly glowing sigils.
Moments later, the door slid open. A woman entered — his Vice Commander, dressed in pristine uniform, the ever-loyal officer always seen at his side.
"What's wrong, Supreme Commander?" she asked, her voice sharp with worry.
Rhyes's eyes lowered slightly. "Supreme Commander Myterl Eremore is dead."
Her face drained of color. "What?" she breathed, staggering a step back. "That can't be… it can't—"
Rhyes nodded once, slow and deliberate. "It's true. She fell on the battlefield… and with her death, another tragedy has unfolded."
The woman's lips trembled. Her fists clenched as if trying to hold the tears forcing themselves to the surface. She tried to speak, but Rhyes raised his hand.
"Not the time," he said, his tone firm but calm.
"I will inform the entire bastion myself. You are to send formal notices to Earth and all associated hubs."
She inhaled shakily, swallowed the grief down, and straightened her back. "Understood, Supreme Commander."
She turned and left the room, her footsteps hurried and faintly unsteady.
Rhyes exhaled quietly, adjusting his uniform as he sat up straighter. He placed his hand flat on the desk; a pale blue light scanned his palm, followed by a quiet hum that built into a deep resonance.
A moment later — across the entirety of the NullFlux Bastion — massive holographic screens ignited in the skies.
Every soldier, every engineer, every medic, every soldier froze. The enormous screens shimmered across every district, projecting Rhyes's calm, commanding image.
The entire bastion fell silent.
The medics in the infirmary stopped mid-treatment and looked up through the windows.
The engineers dropped their tools, staring at the flickering blue sky.
In the massive residential domes, soldiers placed down their meals and turned toward the light.
Even in the Obsidian Fang's central dome — the most elite and deadly units of the bastion — the room went completely still.
Minos stared up at the screen. "What's going on?"
Beside him, Toreth stepped closer to the window, his eyes darkening. "Something's wrong…"
"What is?" Minos asked, his tone low.
Toreth's face grew tense, his eyes sharp with instinct. "A broadcast… from Supreme Commander Rhyes. If it's him, it's not casual. It's either a war announcement… or a death."
A cold pause.
"…What is it?" he murmured, uneasily. "An attack?"
Then Rhyes's voice began.
It filled the air with authority — deep, resonant, the kind of tone that demanded silence even from the wind itself.
"Salutations to every soldier present within the NullFlux Bastion.
I am Rhyes Vance — Supreme Commander of the Obsidian fang and guardian of the NullFlux Bastion.
Today, I address you not as a superior, but as a bearer of sorrow.
It is my duty to inform all divisions, all sectors, and all hearts that… after two centuries of unbroken service, valor, and devotion, Supreme Commander Myterl Eremore has fallen on the battlefield."
A sharp silence followed. Then, like a wave rolling through steel corridors, gasps, murmurs, and cries spread.
"She died facing an Omega-class threat, the likes of which even we seldom encounter.
She stood her ground until her final breath — not for glory, not for name, but for the safety of those who stood beside her.
Myterl was not merely a leader. She was a light that guided entire divisions through the darkest nights. A warrior who carried faith when the rest of us carried doubt.
Her command saved billions. Her legacy built this bastion into what it is today."
His voice grew quieter — not weaker, but deeper, heavy with reverence.
"She fought until her heart gave its last pulse… and even then, she stood unyielding.
We will remember her not through grief, but through honor. Let her name remain etched into the heart of the NullFlux, for she was the pulse that kept it alive."
In the Obsidian Fang dome, silence lingered like death itself.
Toreth's mouth parted slightly, the words escaping without thought.
"…What?"
Minos's face froze — disbelief consuming him.
"Impossible…"
Rhyes's voice carried on.
"To every soldier wearing the insignia of Obsidian Fang — to those who once followed her orders — I ask you to raise your heads high.
Do not mourn her as someone lost. Mourn her as someone who gave everything so that others may live.
Her courage will remain our doctrine. Her resolve, our commandment."
Across the bastion — billions of soldiers — all began to lower their heads.
In the Obsidian Fang dome, one of the high-ranking commanders — a man with deep scars and shaking hands — placed his fist over his heart. A single tear fell.
Others followed. One by one, the salute spread — until over a billion men and women, scattered across the metallic world, stood in synchronized silence, fists to hearts, heads lowered.
An ocean of grief and unity.
Rhyes stood straight, eyes sharp yet distant.
"As the standing Supreme Commander of the NullFlux Bastion, I hereby use my authority to convene an immediate meeting of all Supreme Commanders. Attendance is mandatory within the next hour."
The holographic screen flickered once, then vanished.
---
Rhyes leaned back in his chair. The light of the screen faded, leaving the office dark and quiet. He rested his arm on the chair's side and placed a hand on his forehead, closing his eyes briefly.
He didn't sigh — he simply stayed still, his composure immaculate. But the silence that followed felt suffocating.
---
Toreth turned sharply, walking out of the dome without a word. Minos followed, still pale.
Inside his office, Toreth's jaw tightened; veins lined his temples. He grabbed his coat, putting it on with trembling hands. His face twisted between anger and grief — like a storm that couldn't decide if it should roar or weep.
"Minos," he said quietly, "continue your work. I'll be back shortly."
Minos didn't argue. He simply nodded.
"Understood."
As Toreth moved toward the door, a large hand settled on his shoulder.
Renzo's voice followed, steady but concerned. "Calm down, Toreth. You need to keep it together."
"I'm fine," Toreth said — though his voice trembled faintly. His eyes, however, were iron.
"For now… we have a duty to fulfill."
Renzo nodded, stepping beside him. The two walked off into the fading blue light of the dome's corridor.
---
Elsewhere — in the castle basement — Lorriel rose from a stretcher after checking on an unconscious student.
"He's stable," she said softly. Another medic nodded, taking the patient away.
Behind her, Zazm approached silently.
"Supreme Commander Lorriel."
She turned, her face tired but composed. "I'll be there. Give me a few minutes. Go fetch Aina until then."
Zazm nodded slightly and vanished through a distortion in space.
Moments later, Aina stepped out from another room, sighing deeply — only to jump back in surprise. "You scared me," she said, clutching her chest.
Zazm stood leaning against the doorframe, his posture calm as always.
"Supreme Commander Aina," he said. "Supreme Commander Rhyes has summoned you and Supreme Commander Lorriel."
Aina nodded quickly. "Yes, let's go. And… thank you for taking the time to come here and teleport us back."
Zazm didn't reply. His expression remained cold, unreadable.
As they walked through the hall, Aina spoke softly, her voice laced with exhaustion.
"I've done a full checkup on both Nova and Jennie."
Zazm glanced toward her slightly.
"Jennie's stable," she continued, "but until she wakes up, I can't guarantee her mental condition. As for Nova — he's drained far too much of his Vana."
"What happens then?" Zazm asked.
"It's not fatal," Aina said. "But for remnants, Vana isn't just energy. It's a vital part of their body. If they deplete it completely… their system shuts down to protect itself. In simpler terms — he'll wake in a week or two."
"I see," Zazm murmured.
Aina walked beside him, her tone softening. "So… Myterl is really gone?"
Zazm gave a single nod.
"I see…" Aina whispered, looking away.
Zazm's eyes flicked toward her. "You seem rather calm."
Aina smiled faintly — a tired, fragile smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"I may look like a sheltered girl," she said quietly, "but I've been in the medical division too long. We've seen more death, more screams, more hopelessness than those who fight on the battlefield."
She quickly caught herself and added, "By no means do I mean that your role isn't the most vital—"
"I understand," Zazm interrupted, his tone even.
Aina exhaled in relief, then continued in a whisper.
"The hopeless desires of people destined to die… the last wishes whispered through blood. The way their families cry — the way their eyes fade. We've seen too much of it already."
Her voice broke faintly, but she kept walking.
The two walked in silence after that — through corridors glowing faintly blue, through the heart of a castle heavy with mourning.
And though neither spoke again, both knew — the world had just shifted lightly.
And the war is far from over.
---
The black corridor of the Supreme Chamber stretched endlessly ahead — silent, illuminated by veins of silver light pulsing across the walls.
Zazm walked through it with quiet, measured steps. His reflection shimmered faintly on the mirrored floor as, in front of him, two figures led the way — Supreme Commander Aina and Supreme Commander Lorriel.
None of them spoke. The sound of their boots against the metallic floor echoed faintly in the still air.
Before them stood a colossal door — dozens of meters tall, adorned with gold-lined sigils of authority. The ancient steel glowed with pale blue energy, humming like the heart of a god.
Without a word, the door parted open, light washing over them as they stepped inside.
The moment they entered, Aina and Lorriel's bodies shimmered, dissolving into energy and reappearing high above the ground within their own floating chambers — suspended platforms of light encircling the enormous central hall.
Each Supreme Commander's seat hovered within its personal domain, yet all were connected by rings of bright energy. The vast arena below was enough to fit a city.
Zazm stood alone at the center, looking up at the gathering of the most powerful beings in the bastion.
High above, Rhyes Vance sat at the head — calm, commanding, and unreadable. His gaze swept over the others, scanning each seat. Every Supreme Commander was present… except one.
One seat, draped in black banners, remained empty.
Everyone knew who it belonged to.
Myterl Eremore.
Rhyes broke the silence first. His voice resonated through the hall — deep, formal, measured.
"Am I to assume," he began slowly, "that everyone present here is aware of the situation?"
Each head nodded in unison.
Renzo — broad-shouldered, his voice calm and solemn — spoke first. "It is a moment of grief for all of us here."
Aina followed, her voice firm but mournful. "She was someone who cannot be replaced. Her actions, her achievements, her presence — they will echo through history long after any of us are gone."
Then, a voice laced with disdain sliced through the silence.
"Touching words," came the drawl. "But how can the Supreme Commander of the Obsidian Fang — of all divisions — be so careless as to get herself killed?"
It was Gilgamesh who spoke, his tone cold, feline eyes narrowing. His golden pupils glinted like blades, his scaled skin faintly reflecting the light. His smirk carried no trace of grief — only superiority.
Toreth's head turned sharply, his jaw tight, voice low and venomous.
"Watch your tongue, lizard," he said coldly. "Before I rip it out."
Gilgamesh's pupils narrowed further, but before he could reply, Paul — the oldest among them, his white beard immaculate, his eyes sharp with arrogance — chuckled softly.
"It's the truth, isn't it?" Paul said lazily. "What did Supreme Commander Gilgamesh say that was wrong?"
Toreth rose from his seat instantly. The metal creaked under his boots. His green hair fell slightly over his emerald eyes, sharp with suppressed rage.
"You're right, old man," he said coldly, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "It should've been you who died. How about I take the courtesy of correcting that mistake right now?"
Paul leaned forward, unbothered, his voice calm but poisonous. "Try it."
The air in the chamber shifted — sharp and suffocating. Energy pulsed between the two like lightning ready to strike.
Suddenly, the entire chamber groaned. A crushing pressure filled the air, bending the very light.
Rhyes's gaze locked on both of them, sharp as a blade. "Enough."
The single word carried the weight of command — and the pressure that followed felt like gravity itself. Everyone in the room froze. Even Gilgamesh flinched, feeling the force on his scales.
Rhyes's tone was calm, but his authority crushed like a storm. "We are gathered for something that outweighs personal conflict. Compose yourselves."
The suffocating force faded.
Lorriel, still seated, spoke gently but firmly.
"Toreth, calm down."
Toreth exhaled heavily, eyes still burning. He leaned back, but said nothing. His expression was distant — anger and grief fighting beneath the surface. Lorriel's green eyes lingered on him, softening. She knew that mix of rage and sorrow all too well.
She turned her attention back to Rhyes. "The position of a Supreme Commander cannot remain vacant for long," she said. "And seeing as you've called us all here, am I to assume you already have a successor in mind?"
Rhyes nodded once. "I do. I've decided who will take the seat."
Paul leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "And who might the candidate be, Supreme Commander Rhyes? Surely you're not planning to… disregard the selection protocols."
Gilgamesh chuckled lightly, his tone mocking. "By our laws, the strongest warrior inherits the title of Supreme Commander. However, only two candidates without position fit that criteria.
Sir Neo and Sir Asher. And both have refused the position before. So tell me, Rhyes. What are you thinking?"
Rhyes's voice remained steady. "The next Supreme Commander will be Zazm."
A murmur ran through the hall.
Zazm's black eyes remained steadily— there was not even faintest flicker of surprise — it was as if he had already expected it all.
Rhyes continued, his tone unwavering. "He currently stands as our strongest combatant, and he has proven himself through countless battles. His leadership has saved entire divisions."
Paul slammed his fist onto his armrest, the sound echoing. "How can you make a remnant a Supreme Commander?!"
Gilgamesh snarled, his scaled hands gripping the edge of his throne. "Exactly. Where are his qualifications? Command is more than raw power — it requires legacy, blood, intellect, pedigree!"
Rhyes's eyes sharpened, his tone cutting through their noise. "Then let's not speak of qualifications. Zazm has led numerous operations, commanded fleets, and fought through campaigns none of you would have survived. Every soldier who's ever served under him can attest to his capability."
Paul opened his mouth to argue, but Lorriel's voice interrupted — clear, balanced, and decisive.
"Under normal circumstances," she said, "I would never agree to appoint a new Supreme Commander this quickly. But Zazm… he's a good candidate. And right now, we don't have the luxury of time."
She rose slightly from her seat, her voice echoing across the chamber.
"As Supreme Commander of the NullFlux Bastion, I hereby declare that Zazm is fit to become the 112th Supreme Commander of the Obsidian Fang Division — and the 289th Supreme Commander of the NullFlux Bastion."
The hall went silent again.
Rhyes followed, his voice calm. "My stance remains the same."
Aina added, her tone gentle but assured. "I've witnessed his actions firsthand. I can personally confirm that he is capable and deserving."
Renzo's deep voice came next. "No objections from me."
Then Paul sneered. "I refuse."
Gilgamesh's yellow eyes narrowed. "As do I. A remnant… as a Supreme Commander? It's an insult to our very existence. It's unprofessional and reckless."
Zazm stood below, his posture calm, hands in pockets, expression blank — listening to every word without reaction.
Then, beside him, reality shimmered — and Zephyra appeared, her body coiling around him like a shadow. Her arms draped loosely around his neck, her chin resting on his shoulder.
Her voice was a whisper only he could hear, mischievous yet dripping with apathy. "You see those two up there?" She pointed toward Gilgamesh and Paul. "Trust me, those two definitely sleep toge—"
"Zephyra." Zazm's voice was flat, emotionless, eyes still forward.
She pouted slightly. "Fine, fine…"
Rhyes ignored the exchange entirely. "What about you, Supreme Commander Toreth?"
Toreth didn't respond at first. He leaned back in his chair, his expression tired, the anger still simmering beneath his calm exterior. "Do whatever the hell you want," he muttered. "I don't care."
Lorriel's voice turned sharper. "Am I to assume you're staying neutral?"
Toreth gave a faint nod. "Let's just say that."
Lorriel exhaled, closing her eyes briefly. "The majority agrees, then. Zazm is decided as the next Supreme Commander."
Paul scoffed loudly. "Do you think the world will accept that?"
He pointed at Zazm. "He's a remnant. The world has bled because of them. You want me to tell the bases — the families — that a remnant will now lead them? Their loved ones died fighting his kind!"
Gilgamesh nodded in agreement. "Rhyes, you know as well as I do — humanity's hatred for remnants runs deep. Entire bloodlines have fallen to them. No king, no noble, no general will ever accept this."
Rhyes rose from his seat. His calm broke into something sharper. "Whether they accept it or not is irrelevant. This is the decision."
Paul stood as well, slamming his cane against the floor. "Then that's enough for me. But I won't be silent about it. The truth will spread — one way or another."
Gilgamesh rose beside him, his scaled armor glinting under the lights. "Nor will I. You'll regret this indulgence, Rhyes."
Both turned and vanished through portals of their own.
Toreth rose next, muttering under his breath. "I'm done here." He left without another word, Renzo following silently behind him.
Lorriel sighed quietly, standing as well. "I have duties to attend."
Rhyes gave a small nod, and she too vanished.
---
Aina appeared beside Zazm on the floor. "Can you teleport me back to the castle? I need to speak with my sister."
Zazm lifted a hand — a silent wave of space distortion opening a circular portal.
"Thank you," Aina said softly, stepping through.
As the portal closed, Rhyes descended from his throne, approaching Zazm. For a few moments, he said nothing.
Then quietly, "Why did you do it?" Zazm asked, his voice calm but low.
Rhyes's reply was composed. "Don't misunderstand. I chose what was necessary — not what was easy."
He placed a hand on Zazm's shoulder. "That seat gives you authority. And you need it. You know better than anyone how important that is."
Zazm looked at him silently. His face revealed nothing.
Rhyes turned away, walking toward the corridor. "Follow me."
Zazm did.
"But it won't be easy," Rhyes continued. "Paul and Gilgamesh will do everything in their power to undermine you. They'll spread doubt, twist the narrative, leak information to nobles and planetary councils. They'll even reach out to the King of Earth if they must."
Zazm's tone was flat, quiet. "Nothing has ever been easy for me."
Rhyes gave a faint smirk. "Fair." He paused. "Tell me, though — what exactly happened after you fell into the trap?"
Zazm explained briefly — his voice monotone, recounting the events as if detached from them.
When he finished, Rhyes frowned. "I see. But how did you survive the King?"
"I didn't," Zazm said simply. "He killed me. But I rewound time before the strike connected."
Rhyes narrowed his eyes. "Wait — didn't you say his sword can cut through anything, even reality itself? How could you reverse time if the strike severs the timeline?"
Zazm's gaze didn't waver. "Because I wasn't the one he hit. I rewound time a hundred seconds before the impact. The one he killed was a future version of me that ceased to exist the moment he swung."
Rhyes blinked once, almost amused. "It's absurd. I'm surprised you pulled that off."
"There won't be a second chance," Zazm replied. "He knows what I did. He let it happen."
Rhyes nodded slowly. "The King of Remnants lives up to his name, then."
They walked in silence for a while, the corridor echoing with their steps.
Finally, Rhyes asked, "Are you ready?"
Zazm glanced at him. "For what?"
"For the war that's not fought with weapons," Rhyes said. "Paul and Gilgamesh will strike politically. They'll make sure your appointment burns before it rises."
Zazm's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then I'll do whatever is in my power to make sure it doesn't."
Rhyes looked back at him, sharp eyes glinting. "Princess Aina and Queen Elziora will handle the nobles. We can sway public opinion through the soldiers who trust you."
"That won't be enough," Zazm said coldly.
Rhyes's tone deepened. "Then… you've already chosen this path?"
Zazm's gaze hardened. "My path was never clean to begin with."
The two continued walking, their silhouettes swallowed by the cold silver light — one leading, one following — both aware that from this point onward, every step would bleed.
____________________________