A small tremor of disbelief passed through him. The last thing he remembered clearly was Beckett's purple-clad figure standing alone against a fleet. Everything after that had been adrenaline and collapse.
Curious—and needing to see it for himself—he tapped a panel on the halo display, swapping the telemetry readouts with the ship's external optical feed.
The projection flickered, then bloomed into life.
Outside his window, the stars blazed—not twinkling like they did on the surface, but sharp, eternal. The curve of Earth hung below like a jewel wrapped in mist. Its oceans, clouds, and continents slowly spun beneath the ship's hull, silent and distant.
Gilbert stared.
His breath caught. He felt impossibly small, yet… unburdened.
"I'm… in space," he whispered.
There was a pause, and then—despite the throb of his healing arm, despite the ache in his chest—he smiled.
For the first time since the battle, he wasn't thinking about the knight who had tried to kill him. Or stolen files, and Advocates trying to capture him.
He was just… a boy from the Third Tier, floating among the stars.
And for a fleeting moment—that was enough.
Hiss.
The door to Gilbert's ward slid open with a quiet pneumatic release. He turned his head as Aniela stepped inside, now dressed in her medic's coat, her hair swept neatly into a bun. When she saw him awake, a subtle shift in her expression—somewhere between relief and residual tension—settled on her face.
"You're awake," she said softly, walking toward his bedside. "How's the arm?"
Gilbert looked away from the projection showing Earth's spinning curve, the silence between them charged with quiet awe.
"It's… functional," he replied. "Feels like it's simmering in fire and ice, but I'll live."
Aniela smiled faintly, then gently took his uninjured arm and guided him back down onto the medbed. With practiced precision, she reinserted his healing arm into the luminescent biogel solution, the soft hiss of the diagnostic scanner activating once again.
"You shouldn't be moving it yet," she muttered.
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"
Aniela's eyes flicked to her halo ring, tapping in a few commands. "We're en route to 2163-Alpha."
He frowned. "Where's that?"
"It's a reinforced asteroid between Earth and Mars," she said, without looking up. "Officially cataloged as 2163-Alpha. But most people know it by another name: Dragon's Den—the headquarters of the Dragon Legion."
Gilbert blinked. "Wait—the Dragon Legion's main stronghold? That sounds like… an honor?"
Aniela paused in her scan, her expression tightening just slightly. "It won't feel like one once you hear the briefing."
Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "I'm listening."
She sighed, her tone clinical again. "Several outpost stations along us and mars have gone dark. Intelligence confirms they've been overrun by Styx forces. The White Horns—and three other companies—are being consolidated into a temporary battalion to reclaim at least one of the outposts."
As Aniela adjusted the scanning parameters on the biobed, she added casually, "By the way… I've sent Lorelai to your home."
Gilbert's breath caught.
He turned sharply toward her, the pain in his arm momentarily forgotten. "Lorelai?"
Aniela nodded, not looking up. "I assigned her a caretaker unit and two civilian-grade protectors. She'll be safe. I… I thought it best to remove her from the Citadel given everything that's happened."
Gilbert sat silently for a moment, his thoughts spiraling.
He had taken Lorelai—rescued her—from that war-torn, Styx-infested ruin. He had promised her safety. Family. A future. But since bringing her to the Citadel… he hadn't seen her. Not once. Not even a message.
Now, here he was: floating in orbit, about to be launched to the edge of the solar frontier, with no idea when—or if—he'd ever set foot on Earth again.
His jaw clenched. "Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper.
Aniela finally looked up. Her gaze was gentle unfortunately Gilbert never saw it.
"She kept asking when she'd see you again," she said softly.
Gilbert looked back toward the projection of Earth shrinking in the distance, blue and white and so hearthtakinglybeautiful
"I hope she doesn't forget me."
"She won't," Aniela said firmly. "But you have to survive this. For her. For you. So make it back."
He didn't answer, but his grip on the medbed tightened just slightly. Steadying himself he turned towards her.
"Where is the rest of my squad?" Gilbert asked
"They are in another ward, once your arm his stable I will clear you to go and look for them."
Steadying himself, Gilbert turned fully toward her. His expression had hardened into something focused—composed, despite the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
"Where is the rest of my squad?" he asked, voice steady but tight.
Aniela glanced at her holo-slate before replying, "They're in the adjacent ward. Stable. Tired, but alive."
She met his gaze.
"Once your neural link finishes syncing with the reconstructed arm and the nanosaturation stabilizes, I'll clear you to go see them."
Gilbert gave a quiet nod but didn't immediately look away. "Thanks. I… I just need to know they're okay. After everything."
Aniela gave a soft smile and gently guided his hand back into the stasis solution. The luminescent gel pulsed faintly as it bonded with the synthetic muscle fibers beneath his skin.
After receiving the all-clear from Aniela, Gilbert stepped out of his ward. The hallway outside was quiet, the hum of life support systems and distant engine vibrations his only company. He walked steadily, each step measured, the sound of his magnetic boots connecting to the floor, until he stood in front of a sliding door marked WARD 5A9.
Muffled voices bled through—familiar ones. Chatter, teasing, a lightness he hadn't heard in days.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
The door hissed open.
Inside, the squad sat scattered across the room—some perched on beds, others lounging in undersuits, half-eaten rations and holo-monitors floating midair. William, who was in the middle of a quiet conversation with Anastasia, turned first. His gaze locked with Gilbert's, and for a moment, the room froze.
Then the rest followed his gaze.
Kean broke the silence with a crooked grin. "Look who crawled back from the dead."
He nodded toward Gilbert's arm, now bandaged and covered in stabilization mesh. "No metallic upgrade? Tch. What a disappointment. Guess you're just regular broken, not cool broken."
Anastasia groaned. "Kean."
Gilbert chuckled and stepped into the room. "Sorry to disappoint. I decided I'd rather keep the original parts."
"You sure it's still you in there?" William added, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm sure," Gilbert said, looking at each of them. "But I'll admit… seeing all of you like this makes me wonder if I'm dreaming."
Chen Mei gave a soft smile. "If you are, don't wake up yet. We just got you back."
Vivian stood and offered a mock salute. "Welcome back, Knight 141."
Gilbert returned the gesture, slower, but with sincerity. "Good to be back."
After chatting with the others for a while—trading jokes, updates, and the kind of silent glances only shared by those who'd bled together—Gilbert noticed Adam sitting apart from the group. He hadn't said much since Gilbert walked in. Just sat by the porthole, his back straight, his head tilted slightly toward the drifting stars beyond.
Gilbert crossed the room and sat beside him.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
Adam didn't answer right away. He lifted one side of his blindfold, revealing his only good eye—tired, distant, but focused. He glanced at Gilbert, then returned his gaze to the stars.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking about our next journey."
Gilbert nodded, letting the silence stretch a moment. Then he asked the real question.
"And about what happened before?"
Adam exhaled slowly. "I don't know why it's stuck in my head," he admitted. "That Knight… he wasn't the first we killed down there. Far from it."
"This was the only we spoke with though," Gilbert said. "He felt different from the beginning to end."
Adam's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the void outside as the ships moved in formation.
"Be proud… you've cut down a High Knight… but do not celebrate… death's grip has yet to fade." Adam said mimicking the knight's voice. "Those words, I can't get them out of my mind."
"If it makes you feel any better those words were more likely for me than you," Gilbert said.
Alert: Ships entering warp glide. All personnel move to secure positions."
The ship's AI broadcast echoed across every corridor and cabin, its voice cold and mechanical—but edged with urgency.
Inside the medical ward, the mood shifted instantly. Jokes and casual talk vanished. The White Horns' squad members began strapping themselves in. Gilbert eased himself back into his medbed, letting the automatic magnetic restraints lock across his waist and chest with a firm clunk. Around him, the others did the same—some in chairs, others still lying in recovery pods.
The hum of the ship deepened, turning into a bass tremble that resonated in their bones. Lights dimmed to crimson. Outside the viewport, stars began to stretch.
"Warp glide initialized. Countdown: ten… nine…"
Vivian's hands gripped the sides of her seat as she muttered, "I still hate this part."
"…six… five…"
Gilbert glanced toward the monitors. The Earth hung behind them, a glowing blue jewel shrinking as the engines roared in preparation.
"…three… two… one…"
WHUMMMMM.
The sound was impossible—deep and fluid, like falling through liquid thunder. The stars outside elongated into streaks of light before twisting, folding inward. Space itself seemed to ripple, bending under the strain of the ship's warp bubble. A shimmer washed over the hull—a translucent veil flickering in pale blue as reality twisted around them.
It wasn't instantaneous. Warp glide wasn't jumping through space it was more like slipping into the flow of a gravitational current—violent at first, then smooth, almost graceful.
Somewhere far off in the ship, a stabilizer thudded back into place.
"Warp glide stable," the AI confirmed. "Estimated arrival at 2163 Alpha in 24 hours."
The red lights shifted back to white. Magnetic locks released with soft hisses. The squad members exhaled as one.
Vivian shook her head. "Every damn time. Feels like being peeled inside-out."
"Better than exploding mid-jump like the old cruisers," Chen Mei said, rubbing her temples.
Gilbert didn't say anything. He just looked back toward the viewport—where the stars had become a thin blur, glowing like white rivers across a dark sea.
They were truly off-world now. Past the Earth, past the Moon. On their way to Dragon's Den—and into whatever war awaited them next.