A soft white light mingled with the natural blue glow pouring in from beyond the transparent walls, illuminating the pristine marble floors of the corridor. Silver ornaments lined the walls between carefully framed paintings — some depicting serene waterfalls cascading down crystalline cliffs, others immortalizing blood-soaked battlefields long forgotten by history.
Measured footsteps echoed through the silent hall as a towering man with silver-white hair tied loosely at the nape walked at an unhurried pace, hands clasped behind his back. The sterile lighting further heightened his ghostly pale complexion, giving him an almost spectral presence against the polished marble.
"Supreme Lord, I come bearing some news."
The low, velvety tone resonated smoothly through the corridor as the doors at the end slid open soundlessly.
Beyond them lay a minimalist office — bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with ancient tomes and data slates alike. A singular desk stood before a transparent wall that revealed the endless expanse of space beyond, stars shimmering silently against the void.
"What is it, Malachai?"
The reply came tired yet soothing, muffled slightly by towering piles of documents stacked upon the desk.
Malachai stepped inside without hesitation.
"A few unidentified threats are approaching us," he answered lightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as his fingers traced along the sharp line of his jaw.
There was a pause.
"…Is it necessary to bring this news to me?"
A man with short dark hair streaked faintly with silver finally rose from behind the piles of reports. His silver eyes — weary but calculating — flickered faintly with an unnatural blue sheen as he met Malachai's gaze. He exhaled slowly, the sound carrying more weight than frustration.
"Why of course," Malachai replied smoothly as he approached. "It is our first contact with outside life in over a millennium, after all."
Cassian's jaw tightened faintly at that.
"…Helios. Do you have eyes on them?" he muttered quietly.
His silver irises bled into a subdued crimson glow as the presence within him stirred.
Affirmative.
Unidentified life forms have made landfall.
Immediate termination suggested.
Echoed a voice inside his mind.
Cold. Precise. Patient.
"…No. Capture them alive."
There was the faintest delay before the response came.
I do not see the benefit of that action.
I request reconsideration, Cassian.
He rolled his broad shoulders once, tension easing slightly as he stared toward the stars beyond the glass.
"We need information. Where they're from. What they want. Avoiding pointless bloodshed would make negotiation easier."
A flicker of red pulsed through his eyes.
An optimal show of force by terminating ninety-nine percent of their forces would statistically improve future negotiation outcomes.
"Helios."
A pause.
Then—
Acknowledged. Termination protocols will remain suspended until information extraction is complete. Initiating capture protocol.
Cassian exhaled again.
"…Put up the live feed."
The ceiling panels above split apart smoothly. Several large monitors descended in unison, hovering midair before illuminating simultaneously.
The silver landscape filled the screens.
Armored figures rampaged across the forest, chainaxes tearing through trees that reformed moments later with a glow of his eyes. Their movements were wild. Unrestrained. Almost desperate.
Cassian frowned.
Malachai stepped closer behind him, pale hands clasped loosely at his back.
"My… such anger. Such ecstasy," Malachai whispered, eyes glinting faintly with intrigue.
Cassian cast him a pointed glance.
Malachai only smiled.
Cassian's arms folded across his chest as he watched the monitors. His eyes pulsed faintly blue at irregular intervals, subtle flashes that coincided with legionnaires vanishing one by one — swallowed whole as the earth beneath them liquefied and closed seamlessly after.
"No screams," Malachai noted idly. "How merciful."
The feed shifted.
The screen focused on a towering woman standing alone amidst the silver expanse, axe in hand, fury radiating off her in visible waves.
One of her legionnaires approached her, reporting something with rigid posture.
A faint red light flickered in Cassian's eyes.
A hatch irised open beneath the man.
He vanished before she could even finish turning to face him.
"…She's in pain," Malachai murmured.
Though his expression remained unchanged — eternally composed, almost arrogantly serene — the air around him shifted. Tiny motes of light flickered into existence at his shoulders, like distant stars blinking into awareness.
"Curious, are you?" Cassian asked dryly.
Malachai nodded.
Cassian resisted the urge to sigh. It was difficult to take the gesture seriously when Mal's face remained perpetually frozen in what ancient Terran archives would have labeled as a mogging expression.
"Call Kyrion here," Cassian ordered after a brief pause. "She seems… different."
Malachai tilted his head slightly.
"Already ahead of you, Supreme Lord. Or I would like to say that… but Kyrion departed the moment their fleet breached our atmosphere."
"…Can you stop calling me—"
"Speak of the devil."
Malachai's lips curved faintly as the primary monitor zoomed in.
A lone figure stood beneath the descending silver moon.
Before Cassian could release another exasperated breath, the screen erupted into motion — earth detonating outward as the two titans clashed without hesitation.
For a moment, neither man spoke.
It was… magnificent.
The woman was no amateur. Each strike carried catastrophic force, every movement honed through countless wars. It had been a long time since Cassian had seen Kyrion pushed this far in raw physical combat.
"I calculate a forty-seven percent probability of Kyrion's defeat if current variables remain unchanged," Helios' voice stated within him. "Recommendation: authorize activation of Armor Defensive Protocols."
"…Forty-seven percent, hm?" Cassian murmured thoughtfully.
His eyes flickered faint orange as he ignored the suggestion.
On the side, Malachai's attention had narrowed entirely upon the woman. The tiny stars orbiting him shifted — collapsing into miniature suns, then dissolving into falling droplets of silver rain before spiraling into tight, confused vortices.
"…Something amiss?" Cassian asked quietly.
Malachai's voice softened.
"That woman… she is in immense pain. Not merely from the physical trauma she endures."
On the screen, the woman bit into Kyrion's gauntlet, blood spraying as she fought like a cornered beast.
"She is suppressing herself," Malachai continued. "Forcing her psyche to remain within a singular emotional spectrum — rage. Whenever another emotion surfaces… fear, doubt, hesitation… it is punished."
The spirals tightened.
"An external stimulus," he added. "Brutal. Surgical."
Cassian's gaze sharpened.
It was common knowledge that passion amplified power. Rage had forged empires and shattered them alike.
But to forbid oneself from feeling anything beyond it?
"…Interesting," Cassian muttered.
Her eyes shifted.
Not rage.
Something else.
His irises ignited with a soft silver glow.
"…Kyrion."
The word carried weight.
Across the monitor, the woman's head snapped upward.
The moon descended fully into frame.
"Bring her to me."