Starfall’s body ignited.

  Light poured from him in blinding sheets, washing Dock Four in white brilliance until his form became little more than a floating silhouette of living radiance. He rose slowly into the air, weightless, inevitable. The commonfolk below stared in stunned silence, awe carving fear into their faces.

  The Crystal of Zerulyth had awakened fully.

  It was a relic that answered only the blood of House Star. When bonded, it amplified their strength even beyond ordinary superhuman measure. Yet it carried a singular flaw, one long whispered among those faction alike. The deeper the wielder surrendered to rage, the more violently the crystal responded. It did not temper desire. It fulfilled it.

  “Starfall,” Burgess shouted, voice cracking as he reached upward. “If this is because I took the payment, I’ll return it. All of it. Just calm yourself, friends.”

  There was no reply.

  Starfall’s glowing eyes drifted past him, toward the docked starships resting like metal beasts in their pens. Some workers waved up at him, mistaking the moment for something divine. A few even clapped. Others whistled.

  Without a word, Starfall vanished.

  He streaked forward in a line of white fire, tearing through the hull of the first ship as if it were parchment. The second followed. Then the third. Explosions chained together as his body slammed through steel and engine cores alike. He struck again and again, fists and shoulders crashing into lifeless metal with wrath meant for gods.

  Dock Four became a theater of horror.

  People fled. Posts were abandoned. Weapons clattered to the floor as men ran screaming for exits that no longer felt real.

  “STARFALL!” Burgess roared, the sound of a lion in anguish.

  There was still no answer.

  Starfall turned on the dock itself. Support pillars collapsed under concentrated bursts of white starfire from his hands. Warehouses burned from the inside out. Guard towers disintegrated. Burgess dragged workers away, shouting orders that were swallowed by detonations.

  The overseer never made it out.

  Neither did several soldiers who hesitated too long. They were consumed where they stood, bodies erased by Zerulyth’s light.

  Less than an hour passed.

  Dock Four ceased to exist.

  Starfall hovered amid the inferno, shining brighter still. His gaze fixed on the exit leading to Dock Three, where volatile logistics were stored. Fuel. Ammunition. Things that would make the night scream.

  Burgess saw it and moved.

  He leapt toward the gate, planting himself in its path, muscles coiling as he prepared to strike. Starfall must not pass.

  Starfall moved faster.

  He twisted midair and drove his heel into Burgess’s chest. The impact hurled the Jungle King backward like a broken statue. Burgess slammed across the dock and vanished into smoke, unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Even he had not seen it coming.

  Starfall crossed into Dock Three.

  He circled it like a falling star, obliterating every ship still anchored there. Cargo ignited in sequence. Volatile goods reacted violently to the star energy bleeding from his presence. Some loads combusted even as he passed overhead, fire blooming in his wake.

  Smaller ships launched in desperation. Packed with fleeing commonfolk, they tore into the sky. Starfall watched them go and did not give chase. Somewhere beneath the rage, his awareness remained. He did not destroy vessels that carried lives.

  The night sky burned.

  Flames climbed so high they painted the clouds. The harbor of District Six transformed into a vision of the southern abyss, where lava rivers defined the land. Explosions thundered without rhythm. Screams cut through the firestorm.

  Burgess was hauled upright by his men. Hell reflected in his lion eyes. He clutched his wounded side and activated his transmitter.

  His breath was shallow. Hope had drained from his voice.

  “Cheng… Cheng, answer. Where are you?”

  Cheng answered at last, exhausted and bloodied. He had just finished cutting down nearly a hundred of Axel’s men.

  “I ran into complications,” Cheng said. “It’s done. Are you with Starfall?”

  Burgess stared south, where the harbor burned like the end of days.

  “Do not come here,” he said flatly. “What stands before me is the abyss. Many of the Sorcerers and Weapon Masters who guarded here had been defeated. ”

  “What are you saying?” Cheng demanded, panic breaking through.

  “Go to the tallest building,” Burgess replied. “Look, toward the harbor.”

  Cheng did not hesitate.

  With the few subordinates still conscious, he sprinted for the tallest building in the district. They took the stairs two at a time, lungs burning. When Cheng reached the rooftop, the sight stole the breath from his chest.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  To the south, beyond the sprawl of the city, the harbor burned.

  A vast red light clawed into the sky, pulsing like a dying sun. Even from this distance, the heat seemed real.

  Cheng activated his transmitter and called Rufus White, the Thousand Fist, head of Mainland security and Vanguard member. No answer.

  “Damn that bastard,” Cheng spat, panic seeping into his voice. “At a time like this, he vanishes.”

  Another signal cut in.

  Balthazar’s voice burst through the channel, loud and shaken. “Cheng. What is happening? Has the gods’ apocalypse finally arrived?”

  “Shut up,” Cheng snapped. “I’ll rip your mouth off later. Call emergency units now. I’m contacting Leroy.”

  He ended the transmission and tried again. Leroy. Elysius. Over and over. No response. Worse still, Cheng lacked the codes to reach the other council members.

  Down at the harbor, within the span of an hour, Dock Three was reduced to ash.

  Starfall showed no sign of fatigue.

  His gaze drifted next toward Dock One and Dock Two.

  Burgess saw it and screamed through the pain tearing at his body. “Stop. Stop this, you stupid noble. Do you understand what you’re doing? This will earn you a death sentence.”

  He staggered forward, blood soaking his side. “Fight me. Face me. Do not destroy any more than you already have.”

  Starfall did not listen.

  He vanished in a burst of speed and slammed into Dock One, tearing through its warehouses first. Explosions followed in violent succession as Dock Two suffered the same fate.

  “No!” Burgess roared, helpless.

  He forced himself upright again. His beast mode accelerated his recovery, muscles knitting through agony. He ran, limping, chasing a falling star.

  Starfall did not slow. He butchered both docks without mercy. Ships shattered. Cargo burned. Steel screamed.

  Nearly half an hour later, Cheng’s transmitter finally came alive.

  Leroy’s voice answered, sharp and immediate.

  “Leroy,” Cheng said, breathless, “go to District Six now. Starfall is destroying everything.”

  Leroy did not ask questions. He was not on the Mainland, but he turned at once and launched himself into flight. He was fortunate not to be far. Two hours would bring him there.

  Two hours too late.

  At the harbor, nothing remained.

  Every dock lay in ruin. Cargo was gone, burned or vaporized. Starships sat crippled, twisted wrecks barely recognizable as vessels. The port of District Six had been erased.

  Starfall hovered alone above the devastation.

  When his eyes found nothing left to break, the light around him began to fade. The Crystal of Zerulyth dimmed, its fury spent. He descended slowly, touching the ground like ash falling after fire.

  His true form returned.

  Only then did he see them. The wounded. The broken. The survivors staring at him in silence.

  Before he could turn—

  Burgess struck.

  He tackled Starfall from the side, kicking the crystal from his grasp. It skidded across the ground, clattering away. Burgess drove him face-first into the earth and pinned him there with brutal strength.

  “Damn you,” Burgess snarled, pressing his jaw close to Starfall’s ear. “Why? Why did you do this?”

  Starfall did not resist.

  His body lay limp beneath Burgess’s weight. His voice, when it came, was hollow.

  “I hate that old man.”

  Burgess froze.

  After a moment, he looked up and barked orders to his men. “Find chains. Every one you can. Bind him. Do not let him rise again.”

  The men obeyed at once.

  Above them, the harbor smoldered, silent at last.

  Leroy reached the Mainland beneath a wounded sky.

  From afar, his eyes were drawn at once to the harbor. It glowed faintly, red and sickly, like embers struggling to die. He accelerated, tearing through the air. As he crossed District Three, he saw convoys of fire engines carriage rushing below. Even the units of District Five and Six were not enough. The harbor was too vast. The flames too deep.

  He landed at the main gate of the port.

  Heat rolled over him in suffocating waves. Smoke clogged the air, heavy and bitter. Leroy’s knees buckled. He caught himself against a nearby carriage, gripping its frame until the world steadied. Breathing was labor. Thinking was worse.

  Dock workers hurried toward him, offering a chair, water, anything. He waved them away.

  Leroy rose again and flew to the top of the harbor watchtower.

  From there, the destruction revealed its full shape.

  He activated his transmitter and entered every council code. This would not be a private message and is one-way only.

  “I am at the main harbor, District Six,” Leroy said. Elysius and Cygnus connected first.

  “There has been an incident,” he continued, then corrected himself, voice flattening. “No. A disaster.” Starmist, Amaterasu, and Lucretius joined the channel.

  “Everything you can see from this harbor is destroyed,” Leroy said. “Intergalactic trade may be crippled for five month. I am informing you all so none of you come here. Tomorrow morning, there will be an emergency council meeting.”

  He ended the transmission before anyone could speak.

  Leroy stood alone atop the tower, staring down at the ruin, frustration hollowing his face.

  Elysius stood frozen in his Cognisource office, transmitter still in hand. His face drained of color as he turned. Behind him, Bjorn lay sprawled across a sofa, limp and unresponsive, Cogworks staff scrambling to massage life back into him.

  In the gardens of Takamagahara, Amaterasu crushed his transmitter in his palm. It melted, metal dripping like wax.

  At the Temple of Morsalem, Cygnus allowed his transmitter to die unanswered. He gazed at the night sky, idly turning the ring on his right hand. A suffocating pressure radiated from him. Instantly hot steam billowed out of the cold teapot.

  In the Abyss, Lucretius sat before his mansion’s hearth. Without a word, he slammed his transmitter into fragments. Yugor, who had been reading aloud nearby, yelped in shock and fell from his chair.

  Elsewhere, far from the Mainland, Starmist stood on a foreign kingdom’s balcony, engaged in diplomacy only moments before. His legs failed him. He collapsed to his knees, scraping them raw. Blue blood seeped from the wounds. His healing did not respond.

  He remained there, unmoving.

  “Why,” Starmist murmured, barely audible.

  It took five hours to extinguish the fires.

  When the smoke finally thinned, Leroy and Cheng entered the harbor together. They walked through devastation, counting losses that defied comprehension. They spoke with rescue teams, confirmed casualties, cataloged the dead and the missing. Leroy demanded full reports. Preliminary data had to reach him before dawn, before the council heard anything secondhand.

  Then Burgess arrived.

  He and his men dragged Starfall forward, bound in layered chains. They forced him to his knees before Leroy. Starfall looked up.

  Leroy’s eyes burned with fury and disappointment.

  Starfall opened his mouth.

  He never spoke.

  Green light ignited around Leroy’s right hand. He struck Starfall across the face with brutal force. The blow dropped him unconscious instantly.

  “You ungrateful bastard,” Leroy muttered.

  He ordered additional sedatives administered. Then he turned away without another glance. He would fly to the Stargate at once. This could not wait. Lord Star would hear of this directly, from him.

  Leroy handed the complete harbor incident files to Cheng. “Send these to Caelumreach,” he said. “Immediately.”

  The Green Wraith rose into the air.

  Normally, the journey from the Mainland to the Stargate took a quarter of a day. Leroy crossed the distance in one hour. His thoughts were muddied. Exhaustion weighed on him, but he pushed harder, flying at a speed few could endure.

  The Stargate emerged above the clouds. Midnight still ruled the sky.

  Leroy descended before the gates and ordered the guards to wake Lord and Lady Star at once. The soldiers complied without question, knocking urgently. No one dare to ask further, Leroy face already showed the crisis. Leroy waited in the sitting hall.

  Measured footsteps approached.

  Lord and Lady Star entered together, surprise clear on their faces.

  “Leroy,” Lord Star asked, “what is the meaning of this? At such an hour?”

  “You look unwell,” Lady Star added softly. “Are you sick?”

  They sat.

  Leroy drew a long breath. Fatigue lined his face.

  “Lord Star. Lady Star,” he said. “I have come to speak about your son.”

  Their expressions sharpened at once. All warmth vanished.

  “There has been,” Leroy said, his gaze empty, “a catastrophe.”