The wreckage jutted from the ice like the bones of something ancient, its metal limbs twisted and half-buried, bleeding steam into the air. The hiss of ruptured conduits tangled with the cold, turning the already-thin atmosphere into a choking haze.

Akiko crouched at the center of it all, fingers trembling above the exposed core.

Her breath fogged the air in short, uneven bursts. Three days since Skadi walked away. Three days of chasing heat, oxygen, meaning. Anything to keep the guilt from closing in. The tremble in her hands could've been exhaustion. Could've been everything else.

"This can work," she murmured. The words felt like a prayer. She adjusted a panel, motions sharp and sure, or at least pretending to be.

Subskill Acquisition (Magitech Integration): Adaptive Reconstitution – 57.1% milestone achieved.

Footsteps crunched behind her. She didn't look.

"You've been at this for hours," Raya said. The warmth had drained as the days had passed. Now it was just tension wrapped in fatigue. "You're chasing ghosts."

Akiko flinched. Didn't stop.

"I'm not chasing ghosts," she snapped. "I'm trying to fix something that might actually matter."

"While we run out of oxygen." Raya leaned against a fractured hull plate. "Maybe we should find shelter instead of poking around dead machines."

Akiko turned her head just enough for amber eyes to catch the light.

"Shelter doesn't change anything. Karn. The entity. Haven. They don't care if we hide. If we don't have something like this…" She gestured at the construct, sharp and bitter. "We're just waiting to get crushed."

Raya crossed her arms. "And what happens when this thing crushes us first?"

The silence after was brittle. Ice cracked somewhere in the distance.

Akiko turned back to the panel. Her claws sparked as they bridged a circuit.

"I'll make it work. My terms this time. Not the entity's. Not anyone else's."

"And if you can't?"

She didn't answer. Didn't have one. Kara. Skadi. Yrsa. Promises made and broken, over and over. This… this was something she could control. Maybe.

The console flickered, dim and shaky.

Her heart stuttered.

"Come on," she whispered. "Just give me something."

A burst of sparks sent her recoiling, cursing under her breath. She slammed a fist against the side of the panel, ignoring the sting as her claws scraped against the metal. Her frustration boiled over, sharp and bitter.

"Why won't you work?!"

"Maybe because it's dead," Raya said, stepping in. Her voice cracked around the words. "Like everything else."

Akiko's shoulders fell.

For a second, she didn't fight the weight of it. The construct, the moon, the system. All of it collapsing, and her always one step too slow.

She let her head rest against the cold metal.

"I can't sit and wait. I don't know how to do that."

"Neither do I," Raya murmured. Softer, now. "But killing ourselves over this doesn't get us out. We need air. Food. A plan that doesn't end with us frozen to pieces."

Akiko started to reply. Stopped. There was movement on the horizon. A silhouette cut through the haze, sharp and slow.

"Raya," she said quietly. "We've got company."

The dark shape on the horizon grew sharper. The Driftknight. No mistaking that hull, that silhouette. Its engines cast a dull glow against the ice, the hum low and steady, cutting across the frostbitten plain.

Akiko's claws flexed. Sparks danced at her fingertips before fading. She drew a slow breath, steady on the surface, but it didn't reach her chest.

Raya stepped beside her, shielding her eyes from the glare. "That's Kara, isn't it?"

Akiko nodded, but didn't look away.

Of course it was Kara. It was always Kara, when things spiraled too far to hide. But this wasn't like last time. There was no clever angle. No story that made it clean.

The Driftknight was supposed to be lying low. Callistra had been the plan. Resort lounges, background noise, a few quiet weeks until the system moved on from Haven's chaos.

But Karn had known exactly how to break that silence. Mercenaries. Traps. Rumors like leashed dogs nipping at her steps. He hadn't just found her, he'd drawn her out. And she'd let him. Because the alternative was watching him keep going. Keep hunting.

She had stopped him. She had killed him, at least as much as one could kill a lich when they didn't know where the phylactery was.

She had tracked him to Zephara, to the fracture in the ice, and ended it. On top of that, she had torn the construct out of the entity's hands before it could turn on the rest of the system.

And none of it mattered. Not to Haven. Not to the people left picking through what Zephara had become. All anyone saw was the fallout. The splinters. The crater where the moon caved in and the air ran out.

It didn't matter that she wasn't the one who started it. That she was trying to stop the spiral. What mattered was she hadn't been fast enough. Or strong enough. Or enough.

The Driftknight's shadow passed over them, heavy and wide. Akiko's throat tightened. She could already hear it, Kara's voice, clipped and low:

We were supposed to keep our heads down, Akiko. But you just couldn't let it go.

Her claws sparked again, tension biting into the metal.

What could she even say? That it wasn't her fault? That the entity made things worse?

None of it would matter. Not when Kara looked at what was left of Zephara.

"Akiko," Raya said softly.

Akiko blinked. The ship was nearly on them, its landing gear kicking up gusts of wind and steam.

"I know."

She stepped back from the console. Squared her shoulders.

The Driftknight settled with a deep hiss of pressure and melting ice.

She stood tall, even as every part of her wanted to fold inward, to vanish into the frost. Whatever was coming… she'd face it. Even if it broke her.

The boarding ramp extended with a mechanical hiss, its edges frosted. Steam billowed from the hydraulics as it settled, a line of polished metal cutting through the fractured ice.

Akiko's heart sank as Kara stepped into view.

She moved with that same deliberate gait, boots thudding against the ice with measured weight. The pressure suit clung to her frame, reinforced plates catching the light from the Driftknight behind her. Behind her visor were sharp eyes, and sharper judgment.

She stopped halfway down the ramp. Arms crossed. Jaw set.

"I should've known," she said. There was no edge to her voice, just a heavy weight. "You promised to keep things quiet, Akiko. You promised."

Akiko flinched.

"I—"

"Don't." Kara's hand came up, stopping the words before they landed. "Don't start."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The tone was familiar. Firm, but not unkind. The kind that came just before someone gave up on you.

"I gave you the benefit of the doubt on Serynth. Told you to keep the Driftknight clear. And now here we are. Again."

"I didn't drag the ship into this." Akiko's claws curled in tight. "Karn—"

"Karn was your problem." Kara's voice rose, sharp for once. "Not mine. Not the crew's. I told you, if you wanted to play hero, fine. But you couldn't leave it alone, could you? Ashara. Zephara. Wherever you go, it's fallout. Bodies. More enemies than when you started."

Akiko's ears flattened. She forced herself to look Kara in the eye.

"I didn't have a choice. He kept coming. After me. After all of us. What was I supposed to do, wait for him to win?"

Kara exhaled. The breath was slow, tight, laced with regret.

"And now look where we are."

She gestured, just once, toward the horizon. Toward the smoke still hanging over Zephara's cracked surface.

"You stopped him, sure. But this? This is the cost. And do you think Haven cares who started it?"

Her voice dropped. "How many people died because you weren't enough?"

Akiko's breath stilled in her chest. Her claws dug pinpricks into her gloves, sharp and grounding. The answer clung in the air, unspoken.

Kara shook her head. Her shoulders eased, but the lines in her face didn't soften.

"This isn't working. It hasn't been. You're a risk, Akiko. To yourself. To the crew."

She hesitated, her gaze cutting to the side, as if she couldn't bear to look.

"To everyone."

Akiko's voice barely made it out. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're done. Off the Driftknight. Effective now."

The wind carried the silence for her.

Kara stepped forward. The ramp creaked under her boots.

"I'm not leaving you with nothing. You've got credits, Back pay, plus your cut from the dragon hoard. Not that it'll help much on Zephara, but it's something."

Akiko stared down at her claws. Faint light still flickered along their edges.

The Driftknight had been her tether. Her place. Her chance. And now it was just another goodbye.

Kara's voice broke through.

"We're making upgrades. Got a new drive lined up. More efficient than the old fusion cone. Doesn't need... you. And we've added a new fabricator. Not top-tier, but it works." She nodded toward the construct's remains. "Looking at that mess, I'd say you could use the old one."

Akiko blinked. "You're… offering it to me?"

"For cheap." Kara lifted a hand. "Out of your back pay. You'll need to source your own scrap. But if you want to get that thing working again, or build something from it, this is the best shot you've got."

Akiko turned toward the wreck. Her chest tightened.

"Materials," she said, dry. "Right. I'll just scrape together a power source from the ice."

"There's plenty out there," Kara said. "Haven's ships are falling out of orbit every day. The entity left Zephara's skies a mess. Scrap's easy. Power's harder, but not impossible."

Akiko wanted to spit something back. Something cutting. But it stuck in her throat. Because Kara wasn't wrong. And because this… this was all that was left.

Kara paused at the top of the ramp. Her eyes shifted to Raya.

"Come on," she said. Her voice carried a note of command. "Let's go."

Akiko's stomach twisted. She couldn't breathe around it.

Of course Kara wanted Raya back on the ship. That was where she belonged. With people who didn't drag her through fire every other day.

Akiko tried to hold her expression steady. She didn't succeed.

They're her family. Not me. Not this mess.

Memories hit like teeth. Sunlight on Callistra, Raya's smile in the hot springs. The way she'd said, I'm not going anywhere, like it had been a promise carved in stone.

And now she wouldn't have to. She could be safe. Rest. Escape the orbit of Akiko's chaos.

She'd feared losing Raya to countless imagined threats that followed her like hounds, but this took her breath away, made it hard to breath. She wouldn't lose Raya to death, she'd lose her to choice.

Akiko squeezed her eyes shut. The sting behind them was sharp, unwelcome.

This is what you do, something whispered. You push them away. You ruin everything.

"Raya," Kara called again. Sharper this time.

Akiko didn't lift her head. "It's okay," she said quietly. The words tasted like ash. "Go. You should go."

Silence. Then, cutting through the wind…

"No."

Akiko's head snapped up. Raya stood firm, her hands clenched at her sides, eyes steady.

"I'm staying."

Kara's frown flickered with something deeper. "Raya, don't do this. You don't have to—"

"I'm staying," Raya said again. Her voice was steel now. She stepped closer to Akiko, voice gentler but no less sure. "You don't get to decide. Neither of you do."

Akiko opened her mouth. Nothing came out. "Raya…" she managed, a whisper. "You don't have to—"

"I know," Raya said, cutting her off gently. "But I'm going to. I meant what I said. You're not getting rid of me."

Kara pinched the bridge of her nose through the glove, exhaling hard. "This is a mistake."

"Maybe," Raya said. "But it's mine to make."

Akiko's chest ached. She didn't know what to feel. Relief, guilt, something deeper and heavier.

She looked into Raya's eyes. All she found was resolve.

"Okay," Akiko said. Her words were quiet. Brittle. "Okay."

Kara turned back toward the ship, muttering under her breath. "Perfect. Just perfect. Because losing a medic during a planetary disaster is exactly what I needed."

Her footsteps faded into the hull.

Akiko let out a shaky breath. The tension didn't go. Raya stood beside her, steady as ever.

There was so much to say. Too much.

Akiko glanced toward the construct. "We should… get started."

"After we say goodbye," Raya said.

Akiko nodded. The weight settled over her again, cold and familiar.

The loading bay hissed open with a low whine.

Steam billowed from the side of the Driftknight as Lila and Tanya stepped out, helmets on, movements clean and practiced. Between them, they carried the old fabricator. It was scarred and battered. Old paint, fresh dents. Still intact.

"Here's your new toy," Lila said over comms. "Try not to break it. Thing's worth more than a year's haul from the belt."

Tanya followed, barely visible behind the bulk of the machine. "Don't whine if it wobbles," she added. "It's got personality."

Akiko stepped forward, resting her claws on the edge of the casing.

"I'll take care of it," she whispered.

Lila watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Good."

Tanya stepped out from behind the unit. Her usual energy was softened now. Still there, just quieter.

Then she pulled Akiko into a quick, tight hug.

"You're gonna be okay," Tanya said into her shoulder. "You've survived this," she gestured vaguely at the ruins, "so what's a little more?"

Akiko froze, then hugged her back, careful not to press too hard.

"Thanks," she said. Her voice caught.

Tanya pulled away and made a mock-frown. "Don't let it go to your head. I'm still mad you're leaving me with the boring repairs."

Akiko let out a faint laugh. "I'll miss you too."

Lila cleared her throat. "Alright. Enough sentiment."

She and Tanya guided the fabricator into place beside the construct wreckage. Clamps hissed into the ice. Lila gave it one last inspection, then turned to Akiko.

"You've learned a lot since you came aboard," she said. "Don't waste it."

Akiko nodded. "I won't."

Then they were gone.

The silence lasted barely a second before another sound broke through. Uneven footsteps, slightly off-kilter.

Jace shuffled down the ramp with his visor shoved up, a metal flask dangling from one hand. It gleamed under the lights, scuffed and dented from gods-knew-what.

"Thought I'd miss the grand sendoff, didn't ya?"

Akiko crossed her arms. "You can't drink in that suit, Jace."

"Details." He gave the flask a shake. "Point is, I brought the goods."

She raised an eyebrow.

"For when you get that hunk of junk humming again. Gotta christen it proper."

Despite herself, Akiko smiled. Jace had always been chaos on legs. Half bad ideas, half worse alcohol. But somehow, the crew ran better with him on board. Like a crooked compass somehow still pointing north.

She took the flask when he offered it. It was cool and solid in her hand.

"Can't say no," she said.

"Damn right. Finest vintage I got, aged a week in the Driftknight's tool locker." He tapped the side of his helmet. "Adds character."

Akiko snorted. "You're a menace."

"And don't you forget it." He leaned in, conspiratorial. "When you power up that machine, pour a shot on it. Might keep it from exploding."

"Or set it on fire."

"Same difference," Jace said with a shrug. "Either way, makes for a good story."

They stood in the cold for a moment, engines humming behind them.

Jace's smirk softened. "Gonna miss you, fox. You kept things... interesting."

Akiko looked down at the flask. Ran a claw along the edge.

"I'll miss you too," she said. "You and your questionable chemistry."

He chuckled. "Don't get all emotional. I'll cry. Real tears. They'll freeze, and then I'll really complain."

Akiko laughed, the sound surprising her with how light it felt. She hugged the flask to her chest. It felt like it weighed more now, more full, like it carried more than just liquor.

"Thanks, Jace."

"Anytime." He gave her a lazy salute, then turned, boots crunching as he wandered back into the Driftknight's hull.

Same uneven gait. Same stupid warmth. Gone, just the same. As Jace disappeared into the Driftknight, Akiko stood alone in the wind.

The cold cut around her, threading through the seams of her suit. The hum of engines vibrated through the ground, steady and distant. She clutched the flask close, its warmth purely imagined.

Footsteps behind her. Measured. Familiar.

She turned.

Quinn moved with the same deliberate calm as always, shoulders squared, helmet tilted just enough to catch her eye. Something long and heavy rested over his shoulder.

He stopped a few paces from her and shifted the weight into his hands.

"Figured you'd want this."

He held it out, and Akiko's breath caught. The mining laser. Her mining laser. But not as she'd left it. The frame was familiar, but reinforced. Sleek plating wrapped the core, and faint mana lines glowed along the barrel, elegant and efficient. Finished.

"You rebuilt it," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Tanya and I, yeah. Got it done a couple days after you left for Zephara. Didn't think you'd be needing it like this."

She took it. Even though it was silly, it felt heavier than she remembered. Solid enough that her suit's exomuscular fibers flexed instinctively, bracing the load. Strange, how normal that felt now.

Her claws traced the new mana channels. They were delicate, interwoven, alive. The raw half-salvaged weapon was gone. This was hers now. Proof that something she built still mattered.

"It's perfect."

Quinn nodded once. "You'll need it."

Akiko swallowed. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to." He tilted his head. "Just don't waste it."

She almost smiled. "I'll try not to."

The silence stretched, but it wasn't empty. Not with Quinn.

He watched her for a moment longer, then spoke, voice low. "You've got this."

They were simple words. Heavy ones.

"We wouldn't have left you with it if we didn't think you could handle what's coming."

Akiko looked down at the weapon. The mana pulse was faint. Like a heartbeat, waiting.

"Thanks," she said. "For believing in me."

"Always."

He stepped back. Paused near the ramp. "Good luck, Akiko. Don't make us regret leaving you behind."

Her mouth twitched. "I'll try to keep things quiet."

Quinn snorted, then turned. The ramp hissed closed behind him.

The engines roared. Warm light flickered over the ice as the Driftknight lifted off, slow and deliberate, then vanished into the storm-wracked sky.

Akiko stood in the cold. The laser cradled in her arms.

The wind pulled at her suit, clawed at her edges. For a moment, it all pressed down. Loss, silence, the ache of a world no longer hers.

Then a shape moved beside her. Raya. Still here.

Akiko didn't look at her. It wasn't necessary. Not alone. Not yet. The ache didn't fade. But it didn't swallow her either.

She looked out at the construct. Down at the weapon. Then forward.

She wasn't done. Not even close.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.