Hyades City, Exterior Ward
Spring Court, Hidden world
Terra, Gaea solar system
Milky way Galaxy
Neutral Free zone
March 24th 2019
"So, you were with Sector Zero for a year," Leon said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of curiosity. He stood in the dimly lit room, unfastening the hospital gown he had worn and replacing it with something more presentable. The cool air brushed against his skin as he buttoned up a crisp white long-sleeve shirt, each movement deliberate and measured. Across from him, Rex sat with a composed demeanor, recounting the journey that had shaped him since the two last stood side by side. "But before that," Leon continued, his fingers pausing briefly over a button as his sharp eyes flicked toward Rex, "you spent eight years in the shadows—a hunting dog for the system."
"Right," Rex replied evenly, his tone carrying the weight of acknowledgment. His gaze remained steady, but his posture betrayed a quiet tension as though bracing himself for judgment. Leon moved on to his boots, the polished black leather gleaming faintly under the overhead light. He crouched slightly, tugging at the laces, but his mind was elsewhere. The words Rex had spoken swirled in his head, stirring memories he had carefully tucked away. After they had graduated from the prestigious Ascendant Academy, their paths diverged sharply.
Rex, with his aristocratic lineage, had been offered a position in his family's Space Sector, a domain they ruled with unyielding authority—a future many would envy, but one Leon had never coveted. A similar opportunity had been extended to Leon as the earliest Awakener in Pleiadian history, a figure of immense potential and influence. But unlike Rex, Leon had turned his back on such privilege. He had chosen the rugged, unpolished colony regions, far removed from the comforts of the core sectors. There, he could focus on his search for the elusive Fallen Stars, the enigma that had consumed his ambitions. Emily had accompanied him, loyal and steadfast, but Rex—Rex had not. Rising from his crouch, Leon let out a quiet breath, his hands brushing against the edges of his shirt as he adjusted the cuffs. He turned to face Rex fully now, studying him with a mixture of lingering disappointment and restrained curiosity. Back then, Rex's decision to remain within the sheltered confines of aristocratic privilege had felt like a betrayal—not just to Leon, but to the bond they had shared, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared years at the Academy.
"You should've come with us," Leon finally said, his voice low but carrying the weight of old wounds. His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. The years apart had changed them both, but the rift between their choices still felt raw, like an unhealed scar.
Rex met Leon's gaze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the silence between them stretched, the echoes of their shared past filling the void.
"I had a chance," Rex said, his voice steady but tinged with a deep, simmering pain. His eyes, sharp and piercing, held a storm of emotions as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "A chance to right the wrongs that had been done to my family. For centuries, the Pendragons were a beacon of duty and sacrifice, a name that stood for loyalty to the Federation. And then, in one moment, it all came crashing down. My father's reputation—gone. Our legacy—tarnished." Leon stood motionless, his arms crossed as he watched his oldest friend wrestle with memories that seemed to claw at him like shadows from the past.
"You know what it was like for me growing up in the Federation," Rex said, his voice hardening, each word a calculated effort to mask the vulnerability lurking beneath. His tone was that of a man bracing himself for a reaction he had learned to expect from nearly everyone—disdain, pity, or worse, indifference. Leon didn't flinch. He stood rooted in place, his piercing gaze unwavering. He didn't need Rex to explain. He had heard the stories, seen the headlines, and understood the legacy that hung over Rex like an unshakable shadow.
Arexander Pendragon—once hailed as the Federation's brightest star, the embodiment of its ideals—had become its most infamous criminal. Dubbed the Fallen One, Arexander's betrayal of the Oath, the sacred vow sworn by all Star Knights, had shattered not only his own reputation but the name of his entire bloodline. His defection had ignited one of the Federation's bloodiest uprisings, a scar in history that no one, especially not his son, could escape. The weight of that betrayal had fallen squarely on Rex's shoulders, a burden he had carried since childhood. As the son of the Fallen One, Rex had become a symbol of everything the Federation despised—a living reminder of Arexander's treachery. While most children grew up basking in the glow of admiration and support, Rex had faced venomous stares and whispered condemnations. He had endured the sneering hatred of strangers, the mocking jeers of peers, and even outright violence from those who believed his bloodline was cursed.
Leon, however, had seen all of this firsthand. He hadn't been an outsider to Rex's struggles; he had lived beside them. As the son of the man who had brought down Arexander Pendragon, Leon had every reason—and perhaps even every right—to despise Rex. The Federation had expected him to treat Rex with cold detachment, to view him as a stain that needed to be erased. But Leon had never done that. Leon saw the world differently than most. While the Federation painted Arexander as a singular villain, Leon had always suspected there was more to the story. He had heard the hushed whispers about the Federation's corruption, and seen the cracks in the perfect façade they presented to the public. Though he couldn't prove it at the time, he had long suspected that Arexander's defection had been more than just a betrayal—it had been a rebellion against a system that was rotting from within.
And so, Leon had made a choice. He treated Rex not as the son of the Fallen One, but as the brother he had grown up with. He had stood by Rex even when others turned their backs. He defended him when the world sought to tear him down, not out of pity, but because he understood that Rex was not his father. To Leon, Rex was Rex—his closest friend, the boy who had fought by his side, the one who had shared in his victories and his losses.
"I grew up being spat on," Rex continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "They called me a traitor's son. A ticking time bomb. The one destined to follow in his father's footsteps. The Federation might preach justice, but for people like me, there was no forgiveness. Only suspicion. Only hate." Rex straightened slightly, the tension in his frame unmistakable. "That's why I made the choice I did. I thought... if I could prove myself if I could do what no one else could, maybe I could restore our name. Maybe I could undo some of the damage my father caused. And if I couldn't do that, at least I'd make them think twice before they spat on the Pendragon name again." Leon stared at Rex, his expression inscrutable. He had always known Rex carried a heavy burden, but this—this was more than he had imagined. It wasn't just duty that had driven Rex; it was desperation. A need to carve out a shred of redemption for himself and for a family name that the Federation had turned into a curse.
"You never treated me like they did," Rex said suddenly, breaking Leon's thoughts. His voice softened, just for a moment, the tension in his jaw loosening as he looked at Leon. "You had every reason to, but you didn't. You never once called me a traitor's son, never once looked at me like I was less than."
Leon's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. "Because you're not," he said simply, his voice steady. "You were never your father, Rex. Whatever Arexander did, it was his choice, his fight—not yours."
Rex's shoulders sagged slightly as if Leon's words eased a weight he hadn't realized he was still carrying. But the shadow of doubt lingered in his eyes. "Maybe. But it didn't stop them from making it mine. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to prove myself, I was always just... his son. Nothing more."
Leon took a step closer, his presence commanding yet unthreatening. "You proved yourself to me a long time ago," he said firmly. "You didn't need to do anything for the Federation's approval. You didn't need their forgiveness, and you sure as hell didn't need mine. You were my brother then, and you still are." Rex's gaze faltered, his composure slipping just enough for Leon to catch the flicker of gratitude in his eyes. For all their differences, for all the years that had driven a wedge between them, this moment reminded Rex of something he had nearly forgotten: Leon had always stood by him. Even now, after everything, Leon was still there. The silence that followed was heavy, but this time it wasn't suffocating. It was a quiet understanding, a bridge over the years of pain, choices, and misunderstandings that had separated them. And in that silence, Rex allowed himself a rare moment of peace—because no matter what the Federation thought, here and now, Leon still saw him for who he truly was.
"Well, it turns out the Federation was right," Rex said, his voice carrying a sharp edge, a bitterness that came not from self-loathing but from a grim acceptance of the truth. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as if shielding himself from Leon's unspoken judgment. "I am my father's son. In the end, as a hunting dog, I chose to side with and work with the terrorist organization my father once led."
Leon said nothing, his expression unreadable as he processed Rex's admission. He stood still, his posture rigid, his mind caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. He was still getting used to the idea that there were factions within the Divine Federation itself—factions that had aligned themselves with the Fallen Stars, a faction his mother, Julia Haravok, was involved with. It was almost too much to take in. The Federation, so often portrayed as a monolithic pillar of order and justice, was fracturing from within. The idea that certain parts of it were secretly siding with the very enemies they claimed to oppose struck Leon as both ironic and tragic. His gaze shifted to Rex, who sat there like a man resigned to his fate, yet defiant in his convictions. A question began to form in Leon's heart, one he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to but felt compelled to ask.
"Do you still care for the Federation, even with all that's happened?" Leon asked, his voice calm, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity—and perhaps disbelief—beneath the surface.
Rex didn't hesitate. "Of course," he said, his tone firm, resolute. His piercing eyes met Leon's, daring him to challenge his conviction. "My father loved the Federation. He risked everything—his reputation, his honor, even his legacy—to try and save it from itself. He wasn't a traitor, Leon. He saw the rot at the core of the system and tried to excise it, even if it meant the world would see him as a monster. He wanted to create an opportunity for the Federation to reform, to become better." Rex's voice softened, but his determination was unwavering. "I mean to finish what he started."
Leon studied Rex for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. The fire in Rex's eyes, the sheer force of his belief, was almost enough to sway him. Almost.
"That's too bad," Leon thought, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smirk that didn't reach his eyes. If Rex was his father's son, then perhaps Leon was his mother's son. Julia Haravok had always taught him to see the world for what it was—a battlefield where survival and ambition outweighed ideals. She had never been content with the Federation's lies or its so-called justice. She had fought against the system in her own way, forging alliances with others who shared her vision of tearing down the old world to build something new. Rex's words might have stirred something in Leon once—back when he was younger, more idealistic, and still believed in the possibility of redemption. But now, after everything he'd seen, after everything he'd lost, Leon had long since abandoned those notions. Rex wanted to reform the Federation. To save it. Leon, on the other hand, had no such compunctions. If razing the Federation and all its people meant achieving his goals, then the choice was simple.
Turns out, Leon thought to himself, his smirk fading into something colder, sharper, I'm the Fallen One after all
The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken truths. Rex's unwavering faith in the Federation clashed silently with Leon's simmering cynicism, creating a rift that neither of them was ready to acknowledge aloud. For now, they shared the same room and the same air, but their paths were diverging—one seeking to mend a broken system, the other willing to burn it to ashes. And though neither said it, both knew that one day, those paths would collide. A knock at the door shattered Leon's thoughts, pulling him abruptly back to the present. He blinked, clearing the haze of reflection from his mind, and straightened his posture before heading to answer it. His hand lingered on the doorknob for a second longer than it should have, as if bracing himself for the unknown. With a quiet breath, he turned the handle and pulled the door open. The first thing he saw was her.
Sam stood in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light that cast a faint glow around her. Her presence struck him immediately—strong, confident, magnetic. She wore a fitted green tracksuit that clung to her athletic frame, accentuating the muscular contours and curves of her body. The physical changes she had undergone since her awakening were undeniable, every inch of her radiating the strength and vitality of someone who had tapped into a power far beyond the ordinary. But it wasn't just her physique that caught Leon off guard—it was her. There was an unspoken energy about her, a quiet but undeniable shift in the way she carried herself. Her emerald eyes held his with a clarity and intensity that seemed to pierce through the walls he had so carefully built around himself. Her green hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, framed her face in a way that highlighted her natural beauty—a beauty that now seemed more profound, more effortless, as if awakening had unlocked something within her that had always been waiting to surface.
Leon felt his breath hitch, his chest tightening in a way that surprised him. He had faced horrors beyond imagination and stared down enemies who could crush him with a thought, but standing before Sam—seeing her like this—made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time. Vulnerable. There was a connection between them, one that had been forged at the moment of their first physical contact. It was subtle yet unyielding, an invisible thread that tied their fates together. Leon didn't fully understand it, but he could feel it, a warmth that both comforted and unsettled him. And now, as she stood before him, that connection seemed to hum in the air, a quiet, persistent reminder of something neither of them could ignore. Leon cleared his throat, his attempt to mask the sudden nervousness that crept up on him. He wasn't the type to shy away from things—he was the confident one, maybe too arrogant for his sake—but right now, he felt unsteady, as though the ground beneath him had shifted ever so slightly.
"Sam," he said, his voice steady despite the flicker of uncertainty he felt. "I wasn't expecting you."Her lips curved into a small smile, one that was equal parts warmth and nervousness.
"Figured I'd drop by," she said, her voice casual, though her eyes betrayed a depth of emotion she wasn't ready to put into words. Leon stepped aside to let her in, his heart beating faster than he cared to admit. As she passed him, he caught a faint trace of her scent—fresh and earthy, like the aftermath of a rainstorm. It was grounding, yet it sent his thoughts spiraling. As the door clicked shut behind her, Leon forced himself to regain his composure. But the truth lingered in the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it: Sam wasn't just someone he cared about. She was someone who made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in years.
And that terrified him.
Rex, who had been quietly observing the exchange between Sam and Leon, felt the tension in the air shift. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—like a silent storm brewing just beneath the surface. He cleared his throat, a soft but deliberate sound, and stood from his seat, breaking the stillness that had settled in the room. His gaze shifted to Sam, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he took her in. There was something about her, something undeniably striking that made it hard for him to look away. She resembled Sophia Sinclair, so much so that for a moment, Rex forgot to trace the familiar features of Johana Sinclair, the Grand Admiral of the Starlight Military sect, who also happened to be Sam's aunt on her father's side of the family. But at that moment, all he could see was the likeness to Sophia—the sharpness of her jawline, the intensity in her eyes, the quiet strength she carried so effortlessly. It was a haunting resemblance.
Rex's thoughts turned darker. He recalled the orders Mallus had given to Sinutu and Aniuntum—two of Sector Zero's skilled assassins—to eliminate Sam. Her existence had been deemed a threat to the very foundation of the Federation, something that had to be erased before it could grow into something dangerous. He didn't know the full extent of what Mallus feared about her, but the fact that he was willing to send assassins after a young girl, someone who had barely scratched the surface of her potential, told Rex all he needed to know about the level of fear Sam inspired in the higher echelons of power. What was it about her that caused Mallus to fear her so much?
Rex had seen her fight. He had watched her face down the Assassin siblings, a battle that had showcased not only her skill but also her resilience—her sheer determination to survive, no matter the cost. She wasn't like other young people who had been thrust into the spotlight. Sam was different. But despite her victory, something gnawed at Rex's mind. There was still so much he didn't understand. Why did Mallus, a man who had orchestrated the fall of countless enemies without so much as a second thought, consider Sam such a formidable threat? His brow furrowed as he took a step closer to her, trying to piece together the puzzle. She wasn't just a pawn in some grand game; Rex could feel it in his bones. She was a player—a wildcard who could tip the balance in ways no one could predict. And yet, something still felt out of reach. Maybe it was the way she carried herself. Maybe it was the quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from her, even when she said nothing. Or perhaps it was the way she seemed to belong to something larger, something Rex couldn't quite grasp.
But he didn't have the answers, not yet.
"Sam," Rex said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. Sam blinked, her gaze flickering toward him as she processed his presence. For a brief moment, confusion clouded her thoughts—who was this man? Then it came to her. She remembered seeing him back on Luna, accompanying Rosa and Emanu. He had been there on business, she recalled, something to do with Emanu. What is he doing here then? Sam thought, her brow furrowing slightly.
"I see you remember me," Rex continued, his tone casual but sharp. Sam turned her attention to Leon, noticing the subtle but unmistakable familiarity between the two of them. There was something unspoken between them, a history she couldn't quite place. She nodded in acknowledgment of Rex's statement, though her mind was still trying to piece things together.
"When did the two of you meet?" Leon asked, his voice calm, yet carrying an edge of curiosity.
"Back on Luna," Sam replied. "Mr. Pendragon, I believe, had business with Emanu." Her words were matter-of-fact, though there was a quiet undertone of something deeper—something she couldn't quite grasp yet. "What are you doing here?" Sam asked, her tone direct as she studied Rex. She had figured that, given his appearance—far more mature than a typical teenager—and the fact that he was Pleiadian, he was likely associated with the Federation. However, Sam didn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, not all Pleiadians were aligned with the Federation, just as the other eight races didn't always share the same allegiances.
"I'm here on Starlight business," Rex replied, his voice steady.
"Rex here is a liaison between Starlight and the Fallen Star," Leon interjected, his tone calm but with a hint of something deeper beneath his words.
"I thought the Fallen Stars were considered a terrorist group by the Federation," Sam said, narrowing her eyes as she glanced between Leon and Rex. Her voice carried a touch of skepticism, mixed with genuine confusion. She had always known that Leon had an obsession with pursuing the Fallen Stars—after all, it was the reason he had ended up on this planet to save her in the first place. But she had never asked him why. She had felt the intensity of his emotions, his drive, but the true reason behind it had remained a mystery to her. Sam could feel a flicker of unease within herself as the weight of the situation pressed down on her, the pieces of the puzzle she had never asked about slowly beginning to shift into place.
"To some, we are a terrorist group," a voice spoke from behind them, interrupting the conversation. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and Sophia's presence filled the room. She stood framed in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over the three of them before settling on Leon. Her eyes were sharp, calculating as if weighing them all in an instant. "But to a minority of people who know the truth from twenty years ago, we are much more than that." Her voice was steady, laced with an underlying confidence, and it carried a quiet power that demanded attention. Sophia's eyes lingered on Leon, her expression unreadable as if waiting for him to say something, to react to her words. The air in the room shifted, thick with unspoken history and tension. Leon's gaze never left Sophia as the words slipped out before he could stop them, a question that had haunted him for years.
"What happened during the Uprising?" Leon asked, his voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency. "Tell me the truth. The full truth, not the one the Federation reported. I want to hear your side of things."
The room fell into a tense silence. Sam stood frozen in place, her mind racing. She hadn't fully understood what Leon was saying. All this time, she had thought, as a Paladin of Starlight, Leon would view her mother and the Fallen Stars as enemies. A part of her had been nervous about him being here—being face to face with the group she had been told was responsible for his father's death. Even after everything Sophia had shared with her about Octagram and the darker truths of the Federation, Sam had never fully embraced them. She had always believed her mother played a role in Leon's loss, but now, Leon was here, asking for a truth that went far beyond the one the Federation had fed the masses. The question hung in the air like a weight, its implications far-reaching and deeper than Sam could have anticipated.
"You haven't told him yet?" Sophia's voice was sharp, a note of disbelief creeping into her tone as she glanced between Rex and Leon.
"I figured the Herald might be the best person to tell him," Rex replied, his expression calm but guarded.
"Herald," Leon whispered under his breath, the word landing in his mind like a heavy stone. His thoughts immediately flashed back to the Fuyuki incident—an event that had changed everything. Ryu of the Kage clan, the banishment that followed, and the blood he had spilled in the name of a single, desperate goal. The images of that day, the darkness of what he had done, surged in his mind. It was the moment that had shattered his perception of himself and the world around him.
"Who is this Herald?" Leon asked, his voice quiet but laced with an unmistakable edge. Sophia paused, her gaze steady, as if weighing whether to answer or not.
"Before I say anything," she said, her voice calm yet resolute, "there is a far more pressing matter that we must deal with before anything else." Leon felt a sharp pang of frustration, his mind racing. So close... he thought, but he kept his silence, unwilling to press further. However, his attention shifted as he noticed Sam's expression shift—her features tightening subtly as Sophia brought up this new, unforeseen issue. Something was amiss, and the unease in Sam's eyes spoke volumes.
"What matter?" Leon asked, his patience wearing thin, his voice cutting through the air with quiet urgency. Sophia's expression remained unreadable as she met his gaze, her calm demeanor unshaken.
"The elimination of a beast who's overstayed his welcome," she replied, her voice smooth but carrying a quiet, unsettling finality. Her words hung in the air, heavy with implications. The phrase "overstayed his welcome" felt far too casual for something as serious as what she was suggesting, and Leon could sense the gravity of her statement.