Midday sunlight gleamed off the marble towers of Iron Summit, painting the city's sharp skyline in bands of silver and white. Banners of the Galactic Empire rippled from the rooftops, and the wide stone streets below thrummed with political traffic, senators, advisers, and envoys crossing paths beneath the echoing clang of the Summit's great bells.
Inside the Treasury Wing, a new face walked the halls.
Silas Verin, thirty years old, sharp, featured, and calm-eyed, moved through the corridors with quiet confidence. His dark gray coat, embroidered with the emblem of the Treasury, brushed softly against his boots as he made his way toward Draykor Helvane's office.
Though young compared to the men of the Assembly, Silas carried himself like someone born for politics, composed, observant, and careful with every word. Draykor had handpicked him months ago.
Officially, he was Senior Policy Adviser to the Treasury Leader. Unofficially, he was Draykor's shadow, his strategist, his voice of reason, and perhaps the only man in the Empire Draykor called a friend.
"Silas," Draykor greeted warmly as the adviser entered. "You saw the vote?" "I did," Silas replied,
offering a faint smile. "Congratulations, sir. Ten percent off the military, and every delegate in the chamber nods in your favor."
Draykor exhaled proudly, leaning back in his chair. "It's the start of something new. And you"
he pointed at Silas, "helped make it happen. The reports, the data models, the projections... they were flawless."
Silas inclined his head slightly. "Let's hope the military sees it the same way."
Draykor chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure they'll learn to adjust."
Back at STF Headquarters, that adjustment was not going smoothly. The common room was chaos. Soldiers crowded around the main holoscreen, shouting over the broadcast of the Senate decision.
"Why'd they let him do that?!" one yelled.
"Is this gonna affect our pay?!" another snapped.
"Won't this make it easier for the demons to regroup?!"
The air was thick with anger and frustration. Then the room fell silent as Ian entered. His mere presence cut through the noise. He climbed onto one of the tables, looking over the room, hundreds of soldiers staring up at him, waiting for answers.
"Listen up," Ian said, his voice firm but calm. "I know everyone's angry. So am I. But Optimus and I are already working to fix this. If we start tearing each other apart now, we'll do the demons' job for them. We keep our focus. We stay united. Understood?"
A hush swept through the room. One by one, the soldiers nodded. The noise faded, replaced by a silent current of trust. Ian stepped down, brushed the dust from his sleeve, and left the room, the tension behind him dissolving into uneasy quiet.
In his office, the quiet didn't last. A mission log blinked on his desk screen. He skimmed it, frowning. A diplomatic trip. Draykor wanted to visit Atherion, a planet still recovering from a recent demon invasion, and deliver a speech about reconstruction.
Ian rubbed his temples. "Perfect."
He called in Optimus, who entered moments later, carrying his usual energy and skepticism. "What's up?"
Ian turned the screen toward him. "Draykor's going to Atherion. Wants to give a speech."
Optimus frowned. "You tell him it's not a good idea?"
"Tried. He's determined. But I think I've got the right person to lead this mission." Ian tapped a name on the screen.
The door opened. In walked Renn Varos, tall, broad-shouldered, clad in matte black armor traced with thin gold lining. The letters STF were engraved boldly across his chestplate. His jet-black hair was slicked back, his expression calm but alert. A short sword hung at his side, a plasma rifle slung across his back, and a pistol strapped to his thigh.
Every motion he made was deliberate, the kind of quiet confidence that came from surviving more battles than most could imagine.
Ian gestured between them. "Optimus, meet Renn Varos. Senior operative, night-crew captain, escort division. Close-quarters combat instructor and demon-slaying specialist."
Optimus grinned. "Wow. What an entrance. You rehearse that, or is he actually that good?"
Renn smirked slightly. "Depends on who's asking."
Ian ignored the banter. "Renn, you'll be leading the escort team for Draykor's diplomatic trip to Atherion. Full STF authorization. Keep him breathing, that's priority one." Renn nodded. "Understood."
A few hours later, Draykor Helvane arrived at the HQ hangar, dressed in a dark blue coat trimmed with gold. He shook hands with Ian and Optimus before greeting Renn with a firm nod."You must be my bodyguard."
"Escort, sir," Renn corrected politely.
The four boarded a cyber-helicopter, its rotors spinning with a low hum as it rose into the air and cut across the stars toward Atherion.
Halfway through the flight, Renn handed Draykor a compact ballistic vest.
"Wear this, sir. Protocol."
Draykor chuckled. "I'll be fine. I survived the Third Great War."
Optimus leaned in, tone sharp but casual. "We all did. Just wear it."
Draykor sighed, slipping it on. As the ship descended through the atmosphere, the planet came into view, Atherion, a world of red soil and gray skies, scarred by craters and fire.
Below, the remnants of battle were everywhere: blackened tanks, shattered fortresses, the distant flash of artillery still rumbling across the horizon.
Draykor gazed out the window. "Been a long time since I've seen a battlefield." Ian crossed his arms. "And we plan to keep it that way, unless someone lowers our defenses,"
Optimus smirked. "Let's just get in and out." They landed in a small city district, one of the few that had survived the invasion intact.
The streets were eerily quiet. Holographic flags of the Galactic Empire fluttered over broken rooftops. A makeshift stage and microphone had been set up in the town square.
Civilians and soldiers gathered as Draykor stepped onto the platform. His voice carried confidence, polished and steady.
"If we redirect our funds," Draykor said, his words amplified over the crowd, "we can send more than soldiers. We can send teachers, architects, and doctors. We can rebuild cities, give your children a future beyond war!"
Applause spread through the crowd, but Ian didn't move. His instincts screamed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a blur in the sky. Something fast. Too fast.
"Down!" Ian shouted. In an instant, he leapt forward, moving with superhuman speed. His katana flashed, striking sparks as he deflected a winged demon diving straight for Draykor.
The impact sent a shockwave through the square. "Get him out of here!" Ian roared.
Renn and Optimus grabbed Draykor and pulled him behind the stage just as chaos erupted. Civilians screamed. Dozens in the crowd shed their disguises, their skin twisting, eyes burning red. Demons in human form.
They drew weapons and opened fire. Renn ducked low, firing bursts from his plasma rifle with pinpoint precision. Each shot hit its mark, heads, joints, throats.
Optimus threw himself over Draykor, shielding him from the barrage. Ian slashed through three demons in a blur, his blade cutting the air so hard it split stone.
"Pilot! We need extraction!" The comm crackled. "Copy that, Commander. Meet me at the tallest east tower!" "Everyone, move!" Ian shouted.
The four sprinted through the narrow streets as gunfire echoed behind them. The planet's national guard joined the fight, helping civilians take cover as demons and cultists surged from the alleys.
Renn fired without missing a step, his shots burning through the air with perfect rhythm. "I count twelve behind us!"
"Then let's make it zero!" Optimus barked.
They cut through the side of a crumbling building, Ian's blade sending a wave of compressed air that split an entire squad of enemies in half.
Renn followed with suppressive fire, his movements precise and fluid, a master at work in chaos. They burst through the stairwell and climbed toward the top of the tower, the sound of pursuit echoing below.
As they reached the roof, the helicopter appeared out of the haze, engines roaring. "Go, go, go!" Ian ordered.
Renn and Ian jumped onto the open sides, firing down at the swarm of demons racing up the street below. Plasma bolts and sword strikes cut through the horde as the aircraft lifted into the smoke-filled sky.
The last thing Ian saw before the city vanished beneath them was the battlefield, still burning, still alive, and the haunting thought that this war was far from over.