Hyades City, Exterior Ward
Spring Court
Hidden world, Terra
Gaea solar system
Milky way Galaxy
Neutral Free zone
March 24th 2019
Leon stood at the center of a cyclone, dust swirling violently around him as he struggled to his feet. He had woken up in this strange, desolate place with no memory of how he'd arrived. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings as his mind raced to process the chaotic scene. Fragments of memory surfaced: the confrontation with a member of the Fallen Star. Finally, after relentless pursuit across countless planets, he had tracked down a high-ranking figure in the elusive organization. For years, Leon had chased shadows, encountering nothing but low-level operatives and dead ends. But this time, he had been so close—close enough to taste the satisfaction of his goal.
Now, here he was, ripped away from that moment and thrust into... wherever this was. Impatience gnawed at him. He didn't know where he was or how he'd ended up here, but one thing was certain: he needed to leave. Closing his eyes, Leon focused on his mana flow, willing it to surge and activate his flight. But nothing happened. The familiar hum of energy refused to come. Panic stirred within him, but he shoved it down, his jaw tightening as he assessed his next move. He tried to activate his ability factor, but nothing happened. Panic surged within him, its grip tightening when something flickered out of the cyclone and materialized in front of him. It was a shadowy figure, a being composed of darkness and swirling dust particles. Leon sighed as realization dawned on him. He knew this place all too well—his soul realm. A warped, fragmented mental landscape he rarely accessed, not because he couldn't, but because doing so always brought him face-to-face with it. The entity loomed before him, exuding an aura of malice and deep resentment. Dust coiled around its form like smoke and its mouth—a gaping maw of jagged, white, fang-like shapes—twisted into a sinister grin.
"So, you've ended up here again," the being said, its voice echoing with a strange, hollow resonance. Leon didn't respond. He refused to engage, instead focusing all his willpower on waking himself up, on escaping this place.
"I remember," the entity continued, ignoring his silence, "eight years ago, you vowed never to come to me for help again." Still, Leon said nothing, his jaw tightening as he fought to suppress the fear threatening to take hold.
"You can't leave," the entity hissed. "Not yet. Your body is too damaged—it needs time to recover. Not that it would ever truly be whole."
"So you brought me here because you're afraid," Leon said with a sharp laugh, masking his unease with a cocky facade. It was better to mock this entity than let it see his fear.
"We're both afraid, aren't we?" the entity replied, its tone laced with amusement. It began to circle Leon, its spindly arms swaying as the cyclone's fury intensified. The dark dust surged hungrily, consuming the fractured landscape around them, inching ever closer. "Beyond this twister, your soul realm is nearly gone—devoured by the sickness. Your vitality hangs by a thread. I am the only reason you're still alive, the only reason you survived your awakening, ascended, and became a Master. Without me, Leon, you would have died before you ever met her."
"Don't you dare talk about Sam," Leon snapped, his voice edged with warning.
"Or what?" the dark figure sneered. "Relax. I have no interest in the girl—not as she is now."
Leon's frown deepened at those words. He could never fully understand this being that had emerged within him when he awakened his powers at nine years old—an unusually early age for a Pleiadian to awaken. His mana had erupted chaotically, triggering the sickness within him that had nearly killed him. But this thing... It had appeared in his soul realm like it had always been there, stabilizing the chaos within. Yet that stability was never permanent. The more Leon used his powers, the more the sickness spread, eating away at his soul realm and draining his vitality.
Leon should have died long ago. By all rights, his life should have ended countless times, but his relentless determination—and the sinister help of the entity—had kept him clinging to existence. His life, however, was not one of joy or fulfillment. It was a life of pain and emptiness, filled only with the pursuit of his goals and the protection of the few he held in his heart. Beyond that, nothing else mattered. Over the years, Leon had grown ruthless, detached, and, at times, cruel. His cold, unrelenting focus often led him down paths of merciless pragmatism—choices that stood in stark contrast to the values his father, Jonathan, had instilled in him. Jonathan had raised him to be compassionate, to believe in the worth of every life. Yet Leon had betrayed those ideals. His thoughts drifted to that day on Fuyuki Star Road. That moment. The choices he made. The horrific things he had done. He glanced down at his hands, hands that felt irreversibly stained with blood. So much blood. Leon told himself he didn't regret it, that he had done what was necessary. But deep down, he knew the truth. There had been another way. There was always another way. But he hadn't cared enough to search for it. He had chosen the easiest, most brutal solution, and now, no matter how far he ran, he couldn't escape the weight of his actions.
And yet, for the first time in years, something good—someone good—had entered his life. Sam. She had brought light into his darkness, a light he barely understood. And now, it seemed he would die before he ever truly grasped what she meant to him. His thoughts turned to the nightmare that had haunted him for so long. The vivid, unshakable vision of his own death. He had always dismissed it as some cryptic warning from the entity, something to ignore. But now... now he wasn't so sure. Was he destined to die in front of Sam? Was that his fate?
"Do you still believe in fate?" the entity asked, its voice slithering into his thoughts. Mocking. Condescending. "Wasn't it your fate to die when you awakened? Wasn't it your fate to die as you ascended? And wasn't it your fate to die when you became a Master? Did any of those things happen? No." It leaned closer, its jagged smile twisting wider. "Fate only holds power if you let it."
"You only prolonged the inevitable," Leon shot back, his voice tight, his gaze distant. His mind drifted to his mother, Julia Haravok. She had been one of the most powerful Seers in the universe, her predictions so precise they were rarely wrong.
Thanks to her, Leon understood the power of prescience. He knew how the future could weigh on a soul, how knowledge of it could shape a person. And he knew—though he couldn't bring himself to think it fully—that she had foreseen his...Leon's throat tightened. He couldn't finish the thought.
"There's nothing in this universe that cannot be conquered," the entity said, its voice a low, chilling murmur. "Even fate itself will bow to my will, one day."
The entity began to slither backward, retreating into the darkness of the cyclone, continuing the work it had carried out since it first awakened within Leon's soul realm.
"If you don't die first," Leon muttered, feeling his consciousness stir, the edges of his awareness sharpening.
****
When Leon opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a hospital ward. Medical equipment surrounded him, some devices attached to his bare body. His hands moved automatically, pulling the oxygen tube from his face, and then he noticed the syringe connected to his arm, feeding some kind of nutrient into his veins. He felt sore—more so than usual—but the pain was muted, more bearable. His vision began to clear, the blurriness fading until the world around him became sharp and vivid. As his sight focused, he spotted a figure sitting across from him. The man was dressed in a black shirt and red pants, with ginger-colored hair that contrasted against the sterile surroundings. His crimson eyes were fixed intently on Leon, studying him with an unsettling intensity. How many years had it been since he last saw him? The one who had grown up like a brother to him, one of the few people Leon truly cared for—aside from his mother and Emily. It had been eight years since Leon and Rex Pendragon had shared the same room. Though Emily kept in touch with Rex, Leon had hardly reached out. The only updates he received were the ones Emily offered willingly, without him ever asking for them. The last thing he had heard about Rex before his banishment was that he had been appointed a Star Knight—an esteemed rank for a paladin. The youngest Master Realm expert to ever hold such a position. It was an accomplishment Rex would have over Leon. Leon had always prided himself on being the earliest Awakener in Pleiadian history, but that achievement now seemed distant, overshadowed by Rex's rise to such an esteemed title.
"You look like shit," Rex said, his voice blunt.
"We haven't seen each other in eight years, and that's the first thing you say to me?" Leon coughed, struggling to sit up. A cup of water floated toward him, glowing with a red aura. He grabbed it, eyes narrowing as he glanced at Rex, who had used his ability to summon it. As the red light dissipated, Leon lifted the cup to his lips, drinking slowly. When he finished, he set the cup aside, his gaze drifting around the sterile room. He was alive. Titus had kept him alive. But now, he found himself questioning where exactly here was. His eyes flicked back to Rex, curiosity clouding his features.
"If you're wondering where we are, we're in a Fallen Star facility," Rex said.
"And what exactly are you doing in a Fallen Star facility?" Leon asked, his tone sharp.
"Watching over you."
The door to the room creaked open. A dark-skinned man with orange hair stepped inside, wearing a crisp white suit.
"Dr. Ahmad," Rex said. He still couldn't shake the stark contrast between this doctor and the man he'd known just days ago. The crazy bastard who, during the chaos of the Blackearth virus outbreak, had injected himself with the serum—and, in a twist of fate, had succeeded in awakening. The result? He had become an Ascendant human, regaining his youth in the process.
"I meant how did he get the chance to sit across from me," Leon said. "As a Paladin…"
"Who's been given authority to work with the Fallen Star," Rex replied. "I happened to be here when you were brought in." Leon stared at him, his mind turning as details started to fall into place.
"I heard rumors about the black ops team the Grand Admiral put together," Leon said, his voice steady. "An organization meant to root out the corruption at the heart of Starlight and the Federation. Can't quite remember their name…"
"The Yaeger faction," Rex said, finishing the thought.
"Hunting dogs," Leon muttered. "And why would Starlight want to work with the Fallen Stars? Have you forgotten what they are?"
"Come on, Leon. You can't fool me. I know you don't truly believe the Fallen Star is as much of a threat as you make them out to be," Rex said, his voice cutting through Leon's doubts. "You know who the real enemy is. You've always known. Sector Zero."
"So, you know about them," Leon replied, his voice low. His mind flashed back to the day of his father's funeral. The day he met that masked man—the bullhorn-masked man—for the first time. The anger had been overwhelming. He couldn't explain why his blood had boiled in such a way. His mother's despair didn't fully account for the seething rage that had caused him to black out. As he grew older, Leon had done his own investigations. It had taken time, but eventually, he had pieced together the truth—or at least a version of it. His mother had been keeping something from him, something crucial. The attack on the Divine Federation by the Fallen Stars was a lie.
It hadn't been the Fallen Stars who had targeted the Federation's public institutions. Yes, they had attacked the Stellar Councils, killing former members, but that was the extent of their crimes. The attack on the Federation presidency, the royal family of Agartha, and other protected institutions—it wasn't the Fallen Stars. It was a force from within the Federation itself, lurking in the shadows. And his father's death? That had been part of the ruse. Jonathan Haravok had been the Fallen's best friend—raised like a brother to them. There was no reason for Arexander Pendragon to kill him. In fact, based on what Leon had uncovered, it seemed the Fallen Stars had staged the whole thing, making Jonathan a martyr. This was why Leon had never harbored resentment against Rex as they grew up. The pieces fit together, but the truth was more complicated than Leon had ever realized.
"As a hunting dog, I infiltrated Sector Zero, passing intel about their actions to the upper leaders of Starlight," Rex said
"You… a spy?" Leon chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "I'd love to see that."
"Unfortunately, it didn't pan out well," Rex replied with a rueful tone.
"That's because it's not in your nature to spy," Leon said, his tone almost amused. "You're more the 'get it done directly' type. Leave the subtleties to Emily." At the mention of Emily, Rex's eyes tightened, a flicker of something dark crossing his face. He had volunteered for the role precisely to protect her—taking that mission off her plate before Admiral Wilcock could get his hands on her. It was something he had done at Julia Haravok's insistence. Dr. Ahmad cleared his throat, cutting through the tension.
"Now that I have your attention, might I speak with my patient?" Dr. Ahmad said, his voice cool but authoritative.
"If it's about my health, you don't need to bother," Leon said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "I already know the score. I'm dying." He tugged a hand through what remained of his long golden curls, most of them lost to the sickness that gnawed at his body.
"Then you know," Rex said softly, his gaze turning somber.
Leon offered a humorless smile, his eyes flicking to the ceiling as memories crept in. He'd worked hard to keep the sickness hidden from everyone, but a few had always known. His mother, of course, because she was his mother. Adonis and Phoebe, because of their innate connection to the Greater realms. And Emily… Emily had always known, though Leon never fully understood how. She just did. He'd never asked her about it—there were too many things about her that he hadn't wanted to confront, even to this day.
"Yes," Leon said, his voice quieter now. He looked at Dr. Ahmad, his expression hardening. "How long do I have?"
"Decades to a century, if you refrain from using your mystical powers," Dr. Ahmad replied, his voice clinical. "It's not a long time, but it's more than what a non-Ascendant human would have." The path of Ascendance can extend one's life expectancy, depending on the realm they occupy. As a Pleiadian—or rather, half-Pleiadian from his father's side—Leon's average life expectancy should have been around six centuries. As a Master Realm Ascendant, that lifespan should have expanded to a staggering three thousand six hundred years. Yet, at just twenty-six years old, his time was already running out. Decades or perhaps a century, if he did nothing. If he abandoned his goals and resigned himself to a life of mediocrity, a life without purpose. The thought made his chest tighten, and his fists clenched involuntarily.
"How long if I keep using my powers?" Leon asked, his voice low but steady.
"Utilizing mana will continue to drain your vitality," Dr. Ahmad said, his tone clinical but with a hint of pity. "It will drastically reduce your remaining time. But if you use your ability factor...then we're looking at a year, perhaps months, weeks—possibly even days. I can't predict it with certainty." In other words, Leon thought grimly, if he stayed on his current path, death could come tomorrow—or in the very next instant. The weight of it pressed on him, but he knew there wasn't truly a choice to make. He had long since committed himself to this road, and nothing would turn him from it. Rex watched Leon's face, reading his decision before he even spoke. Though part of him wanted to beg Leon to choose life, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew better than anyone that asking Leon to abandon his goals would be as good as asking him to stop breathing. Besides, their objectives were too closely intertwined now.
"Take me to Sam," Leon said abruptly, breaking the silence. "She's here, isn't she?"
"Yes," Rex said with a nod. "She's in another part of the building."
"I want to see her," Leon said, already pulling the syringe from his arm.
****
Weeks earlier,
In another part of the Fallen Star facility, Sam paced anxiously across a room that was as luxurious as it was unexpected. The pale green walls radiated a calming charm, but her turbulent thoughts made it hard to appreciate the surroundings. A large, plush bed dominated the space, easily big enough for several people, and an ornate wardrobe brimmed with exquisite dresses that she would never dream of wearing. When they'd stepped through the portal, Titus had ordered one of the white-armored guards to take Leon to the hospital ward, while he had personally escorted her here. At first, she'd feared she was being taken prisoner, confined to this room indefinitely. But to her surprise, Titus hadn't locked the door when he left. Her initial dread had given way to confusion as she took in her surroundings. The room wasn't just charming—it was filled with treasures. Shelves lined one side of the space, brimming with books, grimoires detailing the arcane arts, and martial manuals containing combat techniques of every kind. If she weren't so consumed with worry over Leon's condition, she might have spent hours poring over them. But as the days went on, and nobody came for her, Sam had given in to her curiosity and began to read mostly the grimoires. After reading about six of them, her anxiety about Leon returned. Now she was pacing around, unable to focus on anything but the unanswered questions swirling in her mind. Sam was mid-step in her pacing deliberating whether she should leave the room when the door creaked open. She turned quickly, expecting to see Titus and ready to unleash a barrage of questions. But the moment she saw who stepped into the room, the words caught in her throat. Her thoughts scattered, leaving her shocked and completely disarmed.
A stunning woman with olive-brown skin entered, wearing a flowing green dress that clung gracefully to her perfect figure. Her emerald hair cascaded past her shoulders, framing a face of elegance and undeniable allure. There was something enchanting about her—an aura of charm and confidence that could easily captivate anyone, man or woman. Then Sam noticed the woman's eyes. Warm, forest-green, just like her own. Every detail about this stranger—the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw, the way her presence seemed to fill the room—spoke of a connection Sam couldn't deny. This wasn't just anyone. This was someone tied to her by blood. Sam's throat tightened. Her chest rose and fell sharply, and her wide eyes betrayed her confusion. She wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. Her body seemed to move on its own, her legs carrying her forward without her realizing it. When she blinked, she found herself standing just a few feet away, closer than she'd intended.
"You're... It's you..." Sam managed to stammer, her voice trembling. Images flashed in her mind—the woman who had confronted her father almost ten years ago. The woman who had tried to take her from James Sinclair.
"It's me, Samantha," the woman said, her voice soft yet steady. She reached out, her hands cradling Sam's face gently. Her touch was warm, radiating a comfort that seemed to awaken something deep within Sam's soul. A resonance stirred between them, a bond that had been severed long ago but was now unmistakable. For the second time in her life, Sam stood face-to-face with the woman who had given her life: her mother.