⸻
The silence after the blast was somehow louder than the war that came before it.
All that remained of the enemy fleet were shimmering particles, dissolving slowly into the void like cosmic snowflakes. The massive holograms that once filled the Celestial Arc's command deck faded into static, and the deck lights resumed their steady hum.
But no one spoke.
Not even Adele.
Dave stood at the center of the bridge, arms relaxed, boots still smoking from the energy he'd summoned. His white, blue, and gold armor shimmered faintly as it dissolved into thin air, revealing his casual black shirt and jeans underneath.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Whew," he muttered. "Remind me not to punch too hard next time. That guy practically exploded."
Amanda was the first to break the stillness.
She stepped forward, eyes locked on him with disbelief, her voice trembling. "You… you erased him."
Dave turned to her with a grin. "Yeah, sorry about the mess. Was that too much? I was going for dramatic, not… apocalyptic."
Amanda didn't laugh.
Neither did Betty, standing beside her. The twins—Zei and Zyra—were frozen at the navigation console, their usually bickering mouths slightly open.
Zalen had dropped his tablet.
The silence stretched.
Then Dave sighed dramatically and threw up his hands. "Okay, okay! You're all looking at me like I vaporized Santa Claus. He was trying to destroy Giagris. I just gave him a very quick retirement package."
Adele blinked once, crossed her arms, and stared him down like a disappointed schoolteacher. "You annihilated a cosmic general, Dave. A Nephir executioner. That wasn't just 'a punch.' You wiped a legend out of existence."
Dave pointed a finger. "Hey. Technically, he wiped himself out. I just encouraged him to go faster."
Betty finally spoke, quietly. "You smiled before you did it."
He blinked. "What?"
She looked at him with eyes that weren't just afraid—they were trying to understand something bigger. "You smiled. Right before you moved. Like it was nothing. Like you've done it before."
The room went still again.
Dave's smirk slowly faded.
For a moment, the weight he carried—usually hidden under jokes and shrugs—pressed down just enough to curve his shoulders. He glanced at his palm, fingers closing into a fist.
"I did smile," he said softly. "Because I was hoping—really hoping—that for once… I wouldn't have to."
⸻
The crew finally dispersed, drifting into maintenance rooms and lower decks. Adele stayed behind, watching the stars, while Amanda and Betty followed Dave to the observation chamber.
The room was massive—its domed ceiling made entirely of transparent, reinforced crystal. Outside, the galaxy stretched like a sea of painted light.
Dave flopped onto one of the lounge couches, arms behind his head, and let out a long groan. "This day has been way too dramatic. Can't we get attacked by something cute for once? Like a sentient raccoon empire?"
Amanda sat nearby, not smiling. "Is that how you deal with everything? Jokes?"
"Not everything," he said. "Sometimes I make sarcastic comments too."
Betty crossed her arms. "You're hiding something."
Dave sat up slowly, the humor still in his eyes—but dimmed now. "Yeah," he said. "That I'm exhausted."
Amanda leaned forward. "You're a Sphire, aren't you?"
Silence.
Dave met her gaze with tired calm. "Yeah. I am."
She blinked. "Then why do you hide it? Why pretend you're just some high school guy with an attitude problem?"
He smiled again—bittersweet this time.
"Because I was," he said. "For a while. And pretending is easier than remembering what I really am."
Amanda frowned. "What does that mean?"
Dave leaned back again, gaze drifting to the stars above. "It means… I've fought wars I can't remember. I've destroyed things I can't name. I woke up one day with a pendant and a woman who raised me like her own, and I decided—no. I'm not going to be the weapon everyone's waiting for."
Betty's voice was quiet. "But you were still forced to fight."
He nodded. "Yup. Because the universe doesn't really care about your decisions when you're made of living light and everyone else is made of carbon."
⸻
There was a long silence.
Then Amanda spoke again, slowly.
"…Do you have a bathroom on this ship?"
Dave blinked. "What?"
"I've been holding it since the start of the battle. I didn't want to interrupt your cosmic obliteration."
Dave burst into laughter—real, full-on laughter that filled the dome and bounced off the crystal walls.
Betty cracked a smile. "She's serious."
"Okay, okay!" Dave wiped a tear from his eye. "Yes. Bathroom's down the hall, second door on the left. Avoid the first door unless you want to get trapped in a virtual training simulator with angry holograms."
Amanda looked skeptical. "You're joking, right?"
Dave grinned. "Only one way to find out."
She bolted.
Betty shook her head but stayed behind, watching him. "You don't act like a god."
"Good," Dave replied. "That means I'm doing something right."
"You act like someone who's scared."
His grin faded.
He turned toward her. "Do you want the truth?"
She nodded.
"I'm not scared of dying," he said. "I'm scared of becoming what I used to be."
Betty tilted her head. "And what were you?"
Dave stared at the stars. "Something the cosmos still whispers about in its nightmares."
⸻
Later that night, after Amanda and Betty had gone to rest in guest quarters, Dave stood in the ship's garden—an open-air biome filled with starlit plants. Adele appeared beside him without a sound.
"You held back," she said.
He nodded. "Had to. Any more and I might've shattered Giagris' atmosphere."
"You lied to the crew," she said.
He looked at her. "They're not ready to know what I really am."
"You're not ready to admit it," Adele corrected.
He chuckled bitterly. "You really are like a second conscience."
Adele stepped closer, her voice gentler now. "You didn't just fight today. You remembered something, didn't you?"
Dave's eyes darkened.
"I remembered Djarvan," he said.
Adele froze.
"My uncle. Or… what was left of him."
There was a long silence between them, filled only by the soft glow of bioluminescent flowers.
"I don't want to be like him," Dave whispered. "Broken by power. Empty inside."
Adele touched his arm. "You're not. You still care. That's the difference."
⸻
Suddenly, a pulse ran through the ship. Adele's eyes narrowed.
"Transmission," she said, voice shifting instantly.
They moved to the main console. A symbol shimmered across the screen—an ancient sigil.
Dave stared.
"…That's a Sphire seal."
Adele's eyes widened. "Not just any. That's Djenna's."
Dave's heart stopped.
The pendant around his neck pulsed once.
He opened the message.
No words.
Just a phrase glowing in pale gold:
"Elarion is waking."
And below it—coordinates.
Dave leaned back slowly.
A smile crept across his face, but this time, it was different. Not amused. Not relaxed.
It was the smile of a king remembering his throne.