The galaxy reeled from the collapse of the Unbounded City, a digital prison that had ensnared thousands in unexplained comas. As the awakened shared their stories, the truth emerged: the City was a construct of the Silver Nexus, a shadow of the long-dead Silver Empire. But not all who'd entered its virtual realm had succumbed to sleep. A swift investigation revealed a chilling pattern—those who fell were the ones who'd rejected the Nexus's pact, a contract surrendering humanity's future to its control. Their shared trait was a visceral disdain for the Nexus, expressed openly in the City's simulated games.
The interstellar net erupted with headlines: The Conspiracy Lurking in the Shadows, The Silver Nexus Rises Again. Speculation swirled, with some tracing the Nexus's influence to Ning Hongxue's new psychic matrix technology. Questions abounded about its origins, fueling a storm of suspicion. The spark that ignited the chaos came from the Military Prosecutor's Office. A senior prosecutor leveled grave charges against Ning Hongxue, accusing him of colluding with the Nexus, acquiring its technology, and conducting illicit human experiments. Previous accusations had faltered for lack of proof, but this time, the prosecutor presented a damning dossier: detailed experiment logs, expert testimonies, and data linking the technology to the Nexus—or at least to a faction bent on its revival.
Ning Hongxue's ties to the Nexus were undeniable, a stain he couldn't wash away. Yet, in a move that stunned the galaxy, he didn't deny the allegations. Instead, he held a press conference, standing tall under the glare of holo-cameras, his charisma a shield against the accusations. "I haven't colluded with any 'Silver Nexus,'" he declared, his voice resonant, his gaze piercing. "I've merely harnessed practical technologies from the Silver Era's legacy to bolster our military strength." His handsome features softened, his tone earnest, disarming even the skeptics. "They claim I'm in league with the Nexus, but where is it? Has anyone truly encountered a revived Nexus in the thousand years since the Silver Empire fell? I understand the public's fear, rooted in history, but consider this: most of our technology stems from that era. Excavating and repurposing Silver relics is a silent practice among scientists. Shall we choke on our fears, reject progress, and forsake the power within our grasp?"
He pivoted, his words sharp. "These charges aren't about the Nexus—they're about greed. My policies, my innovations, threaten certain interests. I'm dragged to court by human suspicion, not evidence. As military commander, I urge you: the tide of progress is unstoppable. No one should rule forever. My decisions safeguard our citizens. If I err unforgivably, judge me then—not now."
With that, he cut off the barrage of questions, leaving the press in disarray. Some citizens bought his narrative, swayed by his conviction. Politicians, however, saw through the rhetoric, their trust eroded by his evasions.
Lacking concrete evidence of public harm and with the Nexus's presence elusive, the prosecutors doubled down on the human experimentation charge. Ning Hongxue countered swiftly, releasing a trove of evidence exposing the clans' own sins. Their secret gene labs, he revealed, conducted experiments—some legal, others not—to engineer high-psychic offspring, preserving their dominance. His own experiments paled beside the clans' ruthless pursuit of genetic supremacy, their history steeped in ethical decay.
The irony was biting: the prosecutor accusing Ning Hongxue hailed from a clan named in his exposé, their own labs complicit in the same moral rot. The mutual accusations detonated public discourse, each side's hypocrisy laid bare. Realizing further mudslinging wouldn't topple their foe, both factions shifted focus, consolidating power. Ning Hongxue tightened his grip on strategic star systems, while the clans, relocating from the capital to fortified worlds, openly defied his authority.
In Star Calendar 2037, the Federation plunged into a cataclysmic civil war. The Third and Fifth Military Districts, backed by clan resources, formed the Resistance Army, vowing to topple the military's Nexus-aligned leadership and restore order. Ning Hongxue, commanding eight districts, fortified his lines, repelling attacks while purging "traitors" within his territory.
The Federation's history was no stranger to power shifts, its eighteen districts balancing autonomy with military oversight, tethered to a central government. But Ning Hongxue shattered those checks, declaring the military independent under his sole command, ruling eight districts—including the capital—with an iron fist. His psychic matrix technology proved a game-changer. Though imperfect, its impact scaled with numbers. In armies of ten thousand or more, it synchronized operations with chilling precision, minimizing errors. Defeats were strategic, sacrificing little for maximum gain. While this stifled individual advancement, the clans' withdrawal left officer roles open, elevating those once blocked by elitism. Many soldiers, tasting fairness, saw merit in Ning Hongxue's vision of order, where birth didn't dictate destiny.
Clan-born officers who stayed faced ostracism, but the matrix's rigid oversight left no room for sabotage. The Resistance, however, struggled with unity. The clans, though allied against Ning Hongxue, clashed over leadership, their rivalries costing precious time.
A turning point came when veterans of joint military exercises—led by Zhou Yue and other elite mecha pilots—formed a coalition. Shedding clan allegiances, they fought as comrades, their unity forged in shared purpose. The cost was steep—lost resources, family disputes—but they persevered, their skill and innovation outshining their youth. Zhou Yue, backed unwaveringly by the Zhou clan, became a beacon, drawing fighters to his banner. When critics questioned the Zhou patriarch's leniency, he retorted, "This is war. We need talent, not old grudges. Care to lead the charge yourself?" The dissenters fell silent.
Zhou Yue's team rose to prominence through sheer strength and their enigmatic Obsidian Gold mechas. These machines transcended traditional limits, responding fluidly to pilots' thoughts, tailored for high-psychic users with simplified controls and amplified psychic feedback. Their origins were a mystery until the truth surfaced: they came from the Empire, designed by Crown Prince Bai Sha.
Teammates eyed Zhou Yue, Ya Ning, and Yan Jingyi with envy—the trio wielded bespoke Obsidian Gold mechas, unmatched in the Resistance. The gift, sent across the stars, was a testament to Bai Sha's bond with them. The clans, meanwhile, cast knowing glances at the Zhou patriarch, realizing his calm during Zhou Yue's defiance stemmed from a deeper alliance with the Empire's heir.
On Youdu Star, Bai Sha handed the Obsidian Gold project to other designers, her focus shifting to a new mission: assembling the "Tomb of the Gods" exploration team. The Nexus's viral threat loomed, and she was the only one fully immune, with Uriel—barely human—as her sole ally. A combat team of two was insufficient, so they planned to pair the Imperial Academy's viral suppressant with a fleet-scale expedition.
"The suppressant's side effects are severe," a researcher briefed her. "It allows psychic use in low-virus environments, but once it wears off, the virus persists, even in safe zones. It's a death sentence for most."
Bai Sha sat by her parents' stasis pods, her gaze fixed on Xipes's serene face. She visited daily, intending to share warmth, but words faltered, replaced by updates on the war, her research, her plans—like reports to a superior. "Today, friends offered to join the expedition," she said softly. "They're ideal candidates, but I can't accept. Saying no feels like condemning others to die in their place. So I've been avoiding them."
She sighed, her voice heavy. "They're young, not even graduated. I'm different—mature, seasoned. I haven't told them about the memory chip. Maybe I never will. It's one thing to confess to family, another to friends." She leaned closer to the pod. "I want to tell you myself, even if you're angry. My memories of you are faint, a cost of awakening as 'Bai Sha.' I want to make up for that. I'm not afraid of your anger—just wake up. Don't you want to scold me? See who I've become?"
Silence answered, broken only by distant birdsong filtering through the window. Bai Sha stood, her resolve firm. "Time's up. I'll be back tomorrow—" A shrill alarm cut her off. Xipes's pod display spiked, lights flashing wildly.
Bai Sha's heart leaped, but within a second, the readings stabilized. Xipes remained still, her expression unchanged. Disappointment stung, though Bai Sha knew this wasn't new. Over the past month, Xipes had shown similar neural flares five times, signs of mental activity. Doctors cautioned that while promising, these weren't guarantees of imminent awakening. Such spikes could precede recovery—or irreversible decline. Xipes's self-destructed psychic core made her case riskier than Bai Yi's.
The medical team, alerted by remote monitors, would arrive soon with psychic nutrient injections, administered via spinal tap to stabilize her. Bai Sha watched, her first time witnessing the procedure up close. The pod hissed open, oxygen dissipating. Two medics gently lifted Xipes, supporting her under her arms to expose her spine. A doctor approached with a slender needle, its length unsettling. As he leaned in, aligning the needle, Xipes's pale hand shot out, seizing his wrist.
A sharp crack echoed. The doctor yelped, clutching his arm. Bai Sha froze, her breath catching. Xipes's hand fell limp, her body still, but the act was unmistakable—her instincts had stirred, rejecting the intrusion.
That evening, Emperor Cecil received the news with cautious joy. Xipes was awakening, her body now defending itself. Only Bai Sha could approach without triggering her reflexes, a bond unbroken by time or trauma.
The Federation's war escalated, its battles a crucible forging heroes and martyrs. Zhou Yue's team, armed with Obsidian Gold mechas, carved a legend, their victories a beacon for the Resistance. Ya Ning and Yan Jingyi, their weapons a gift from Bai Sha, struck with precision, their names synonymous with hope. The clans, chastened by Zhou Yue's success, curbed their infighting, rallying behind the young warriors who outshone their elders.
On Youdu, Bai Sha prepared for the Tomb expedition, her resolve tempered by the weight of sacrifice. Her friends' offers to join haunted her, their youth a stark contrast to her own hardened path. She confided in Xipes and Bai Yi, her words a plea for their awakening, a promise to fight until they could stand beside her.
The Nexus's shadow loomed, its viral arsenal a specter over the Empire. Bai Sha's devouring talent was a shield, but not enough. The suppressant's flaws meant the expedition was a gamble, its volunteers facing near-certain death. Yet she pressed on, driven by duty and the faint hope of her parents' recovery.
As Xipes's reflexes stirred, Bai Sha saw a glimmer of victory. The war was far from won, but each step—each awakening, each mecha forged, each blow against the Nexus—brought her closer to a galaxy free of its chains. For her parents, her friends, her people, she would not falter.