15/04/2542 – UTF High Council Chamber, Core World Capital / Secure Compound Relay
The holo-feed from the capital was crisp, unflinching. Elias stood in the compound's secure briefing room—armor half-donned, chestplate open, resonance collar gleaming at his throat. The room's walls were reinforced plasteel, but the projected council chamber felt oppressively close.
High Chancellor Victor Kane dominated the central dais, silver hair immaculate, voice carrying the polished edge of a career politician.
"Void Edge. Echo-9. Two surgical strikes, zero Federation losses, irrefutable proof of asymmetrical superiority. The Dominion accuses the Republic of deploying experimental super-soldiers. The Republic blames Syndicate black ops. The Concord whispers of precursor awakenings. All of them are arming."
Admiral Serena Black's projection stood rigid beside him—uniform severe, eyes like targeting lasers.
"IDS dreadnought groups have crossed three neutral sectors. RAW assault carriers massing on our border colonies. We've intercepted orders—both factions preparing joint strikes to 'neutralize the unknown threat' before it escalates."
Mira Voss's face appeared in a side feed—pale, furious. "You're painting a target on his back. The footage from Echo-9 went viral despite containment. They think he's the harbinger of an alien fleet."
Kane's smile was thin. "Then we give them the truth—on our terms. Reveal the Phantom. Controlled broadcast. Demonstrate capability. Force them to hesitate."
Elias's internal voice cut through the feed's noise.
*They're scared. Good. But hesitation won't last. They'll come harder.*
Nova materialized beside him—holographic, curvaceous form leaning close, silver-blue hair brushing his shoulder plate.
"They want to parade you," she said, voice low and edged. "Show the galaxy their weapon. I don't like it."
He glanced at her—green eyes steady. "Necessary?"
"For now. Buys time. But Kane's playing politics with your life."
Jax Harlan's gruff voice joined from his own feed. "Kid's right to be cautious. IDS fleets don't hesitate long. RAW drops troops like rain. We need to hit first—show them the cost."
Kane waved a dismissive hand. "The broadcast is scheduled in forty-eight hours. Edited footage from both missions. Phantom will appear—helmeted, silent. Awe without familiarity."
The feed cut.
Elias removed the chestplate fully—setting it aside with a heavy clunk. Fatigues underneath clung to sweat-slick muscle.
*Forty-eight hours. Then the mask comes off—partway.*
Nova's hand traced his arm—warm projection bleeding through fabric.
"You'll scare them shitless," she murmured. "But come home after. Aria's planning something special tonight. Liora too. They felt you tense through dinner."
He exhaled slowly.
*Home. Them. That's the anchor.*
**16/04/2542 – Secure Compound, Private Quarters**
The door sealed behind him with a soft hiss.
Aria and Liora waited—candles lit again, but the atmosphere thicker. Heavier.
Aria in a thinner dress tonight—soft white, almost translucent in the low light, clinging to her fuller curves. Breasts heavier now, nipples dark shadows through fabric. Pregnancy just confirmed—early, but her body already softening, rounding in ways that stirred him deep.
Liora beside her—tunic unfastened at the shoulders, dark waves loose, green eyes hungry.
They moved to him without words.
Aria first—pressing close, hands sliding under his shirt, nails dragging down his abs. Liora from behind—lips on his neck, petite body molding to his back.
*They know what I need. Release. Control. Them.*
He took it.
Hands gripped Aria's hips—lifting her against the wall, dress rucked up. Mouth on her throat, biting down as she gasped. Liora's fingers worked his belt—tugging fatigues down, freeing his cock already hard and thick.
He spun—pinned Liora to the bed first, tunic ripped open. Breasts small but perfect—nipples peaked. He sucked hard, teeth grazing, while fingers plunged between her thighs—finding her soaked.
She arched, moaning loud—dreamy voice breaking into raw need.
Aria watched—hand between her own legs, eyes dark.
He flipped Liora onto her stomach—hips pulled high, entered her in one deep thrust. Tight heat gripping him. She cried out—fingers clawing sheets.
Hard. Fast. Dominant.
Hand fisted in her hair—pulling her head back as he pounded. Other hand spanking—sharp slaps turning her ass red.
*Take it. All of me.*
She came hard—body clenching, screams muffled in pillow.
He didn't stop—flipped her again, legs over his shoulders, driving deeper until she shattered a second time.
Then Aria.
He pulled her close—dress torn away fully. Body softer now, breasts fuller, belly just beginning to curve.
Mouth on her nipples—sucking hard, imagining milk later. She whimpered, grinding against him.
He bent her over the table—entered from behind, one hand on her throat, the other rubbing her clit.
*Going to breed you deeper. Fill you until it takes again.*
Thrusts brutal—table rocking, candles flickering. She begged—voice breaking on his name.
He obliged—pounding until she came twice, body shaking.
Then face-to-face on the bed—slow but deep, eye contact burning.
Liora joined—kissing Aria, hands roaming.
Group now—him in control.
He took them both—switching, dominating, marking.
Aria on her back—legs spread wide, him buried deep while Liora straddled her face.
Sensory overload—moans, wet sounds, bodies slick with sweat.
He finished inside Aria—deep, pulsing release, hand on her belly.
*Mine. Growing my legacy.*
After—collapsed together. Him in the center, arms around both.
Aftercare—kissing bruises, whispering praise.
They slept tangled.
Nova watched—violet eyes darker with desire.
*Soon,* she thought. *My turn to feel it all.*
Outside, faction fleets mobilized.
IDS and RAW joint task forces crossed UTF borders—probing strikes on outlying colonies.
The war had begun.
And the Phantom prepared to answer.