-Outskirts of Concord Space-
-Dreadnought Mothership-
-Solaris Vengeance-
-17:11 SST (Standard Space Time)-
The bridge of the Solaris Vengeance hummed with the quiet, controlled atmosphere typical of a deep-space patrol. Through the massive, reinforced viewports, the darkness of space stretched out, punctuated only by the distant light of stars and the occasional glow of a passing patrol craft coming back to the mothership.
The dreadnought was a behemoth of metal and power, a fortress in the void over ten kilometers long, two kilometers wide, its hull lined with advanced weaponry capable of tearing through fleets.
But it's purpose was mainly for other, smaller ships to have a place to dock and launch from in the heat of battle.
As the flagship of this patrol sector, it was a symbol of the Concord's dominance in these outer regions of its empire.
Commander Sylas Theris, a C-ranked Super with the Solaris Concord, sat in the command chair, one hand resting on the armrest, the other flipping through routine reports on a holographic console.
He'd been stationed out here for nearly six months, long enough for the weight of boredom to set in, the patrols and drills blending into an endless routine.
Being both a Super and a commander was a rarity within the Solaris Concord. Most Supers dedicated their lives to perfecting their powers, chasing the elusive path to becoming more and more powerful. They craved the kind of strength that could bend entire battlefields to their will.
But Sylas had chosen a different path. His ability, while useful, had always been firmly in the realm of his common gene, enhanced senses, sharper reactions, and a slight boost to strength compared to others of his rank.
It made him a better soldier but not the kind of powerhouse that could turn the tide of a battle.
So he'd taken his chances with the officer's program, believing that discipline, strategy, and the art of command could offer him a different kind of power. He had climbed the ranks, earning respect not for raw power, but for the decisions he made in the heat of battle. And while he might not have the raw strength of some of the Concord's elite, he had something they often lacked:
a sharp mind for tactics.
He'd never imagined that he'd rise this high, that he'd command one of the most advanced ships in the Concord's fleet. Yet, here he was. A testament, perhaps, to how far hard work could take you, even if fate hadn't gifted you a rare gene.
But in the quiet moments like this, he couldn't help but wonder how different his life would have been if he'd had decided to go the route of seeking power, to push himself to new heights and experience the thrill of battle.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, stretching his senses across the ship. For a moment, he let his mind wander to the front lines, where real action was unfolding against the Xa'tarii.
Out here, on the fringes of Concord space, where the entire empire was the furthest you can get from the fighting, there was little more than smugglers and the occasional flare-up between vassal border systems.
He could feel the hum of the ship's engines beneath his feet, the steady rhythm as comforting as the pulse of his own heartbeat.
It was a quiet day, the kind that lulled you into a false sense of security. His mind drifted, wondering if today's routine would be any different.
It was.
The console in front of him lit up with a sudden, harsh red glow. The holographic display pulsed with a priority signal number one, usually reserved for moments of critical importance: the discovery of a new alien species, a Xa'tarii scouting party detected, or an anomaly threatening a whole sector.
Sylas's eyes snapped open, his muscles tensing as he reached out to tap the screen.
"Commander, we have a high-priority alert from central command," the communications officer spoke, her voice strained with urgency as she relayed the data.
"Location: Academus 12. Keywords: Mythical Awakening. Repeat, a Mythical gene has been detected."
For a moment, Sylas froze, staring at the words on the screen as his mind struggled to process their significance.
A Mythical? That can't be right.
The last recorded awakening had been over 200 years ago, and that individual was long dead. This wasn't just rare for their empire, it was near unprecedented across the entirety of known space.
Beings like this possessed powers so extraordinary that they had become the stuff of legends, more myth than reality.
"Are you sure?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. The bridge crew turned to him, sensing the change in the air, the gravity of the situation seeping into the space between them.
"Confirmed, sir. The readings are consistent. Energy levels detected are off the charts and the awakening orb glowed silver," the officer replied, her eyes wide as she stared at her console.
Sylas's jaw tightened, the full implications hitting him like a shockwave.
A Mythical doesn't just have the potential to become a powerful Super, they are a weapon, a strategic asset that could shift the balance of the entire human civilization. Every time a Mythical awakened, they had a power that could influence the very fabric of reality itself.
It wasn't just about the individual monster they could become, their power ushered in a new age and changed history every time one existed.
If the news got out, which it probably had, every major power in the galaxy would descend on Academus 12 like vultures on a carcass.
He snapped into action, his voice cutting through the tense silence of the bridge. "All hands, prepare for immediate mobilization! Set a course for Academus 12. Engage faster-than-light engines and initiate combat readiness protocols."
He roared, "NO ONE ELSE SECURES THAT SUPER BEFORE WE DO!"
The command crew sprang into motion, fingers flying over consoles, relaying orders throughout the dreadnought. Warning lights flashed, and the deep thrum of the ship's engines shifted to a higher pitch as the massive vessel prepared to make the jump.
Nearby patrol craft were left behind, there was no time to bring them aboard.
Sylas's mind raced as he accessed a tactical display, watching the data flow in from Academus 12. One of the academies had a regular awakening ceremony, and whoever the person was who awakened this, they had unleashed absolute chaos.
"How many other fleets can we coordinate with to mobilize toward Academus 12?" Sylas barked.
"I want every ship, every Super we can get our hands on heading to that planet!"
"Commander, long-range scans are detecting multiple ships of unknown and known origin changing trajectory from all directions—all redirecting toward Academus 12," another officer called out, her tone grim.
"We're not the only ones moving in."
Sylas swore under his breath, his expression hardening. It was worse than he'd feared. The other powers, corporations, civilizations, mercenary outfits, rogue Supers, they'd all be coming for the same thing, political consequences be damned.
The ship's hum grew louder, a low thrumming that resonated through the hull as FTL engines powered up.
Sylas turned toward his left, where this fleet's Titan stood, a massive presence even in the spacious bridge.
His tone shifted, becoming respectful. "I'll be relying on you to bring the Mythical in and secure him. Will you be able to handle it?"
The Titan's gaze remained steady, his voice a deep rumble. "Yes."
The stars outside the viewport began to blur, stretching into lines of light as the dreadnought jumped into FTL, hurtling toward a battle that none of them could fully predict.