Jinn’s boot clunked on the ramp of the ship, the tal groaning slightly under his weight before making a resounding
*thud
on the firm ground below.
A chill breeze t him first, brushing past his already ragged clothes as he took in the sight before him.
The docking zone was massive—sprawling with activity as various ships of different sizes whirred and hovered, either preparing to take off or just having landed.
𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦
Smaller scout vessels zipped past overhead, leaving faint blue trails, while larger destroyer-class ships were being fueled and maintained by hovering cranes and worker drones.
Despite the chaotic movent, the entire place was ticulously organized.
Each ship had a designated place, each corridor of space reserved and guarded.
The hum of engines, the beeping of chanical loaders, and the distant sound of tallic tools echoed across the docking area like a constant rhythm of industry.
Jinn’s eyes swept over the space instinctively, sharp and cautious, yet quietly amazed.
This was only one of the docking grounds scattered across the surface of Juggernaut XII—a minor hub compared to the colossal star fortress that lood in orbit above, where the empire’s true fleet movents pulsed like veins in a living titan.
The star fortress was where dreadnoughts and imperial flagships truly made berth, where the real authority of Zerafhon’s military strength congregated.
Yet even here, on this lesser dock below, the presence of the empire’s might could be felt in every structured formation, every soaring vessel, and every disciplined soldier.
And here he was, standing in the middle of it all.
But it wasn’t the ships that caught most of his attention—it was the figures.
Rows of armored soldiers stood to the side, their posture rigid and perfect, exuding discipline.
They didn’t move, didn’t speak.
They simply waited like statues in formation, as if sculpted into place for the sole purpose of welcoming—or perhaps interrogating—the arriving party.
And among them, standing at the forefront of the soldiers, was an individual unlike the rest.
The person wore an intricately adorned robe, woven with golden patterns that shimred slightly under the artificial lights.
Their entire body was wrapped in dark, flowing fabric, but it was the mask that drew all attention.
A smooth, golden mask with no expression—featureless save for tiny slits for eyes—reflecting the world around it like a mirror.
There was sothing unsettling about it, sothing odd, as if the person behind it didn’t breathe the sa air as them.
This masked figure took a slow step forward, the sound of his footstep soft yet precise, before placing a gloved hand on his chest and bowing slightly towards Venedix.
His every movent was calculated, noble, and deliberate—clearly soone who had spent a lifeti practicing protocol.
"I greet Lady Venedix," the masked figure began, his voice muffled slightly by the gold but still clear and sharp.
"Head of House Sorellia... the blade of the empire."
Jinn stood still, eyes flicking from the masked figure to Venedix, then back again.
This was no ordinary greeting. Whoever this was, they held so form of authority.
"I was inford of your sudden departure... several days ago," the figure continued, lifting his head.
"And I have also received confirmation that the initiation rituals for the new batch of slaves had been—postponed."
The word lingered heavily in the air.
Venedix hadn’t spoken yet, still walking down the ramp with confident poise, her eyes like sharpened daggers.
But soone else did.
"Spit it out, will you?" Zendrell groaned, his tone one of mild annoyance as he scratched the back of his head, clearly unimpressed by the formalities.
"You’re circling around like a hungry vulture."
Jinn narrowed his eyes.
Sothing about this masked man was off, though he couldn’t place it.
Still, it was clear he wasn’t just any priest or envoy.
The way he spoke, the way the soldiers deferred to him—he held power.
And not just military.
This was political.
"Mhm," Venedix finally spoke, her voice calm, but with that sa sharp undertone she always carried.
"I assu you want an explanation for the detour we made... and what was accomplished in our absence."
The masked man gave a slight nod.
"Correct, my lady," he replied.
"As you know, the Temple works hand-in-hand with the Order of Malakai. When it cos to any matter involving the corrupted, the darkness, and especially those touched by it—it is our solemn duty to oversee, record, and understand any actions taken. Especially those carried out by Battlemasters such as yourself."
There was a pause.
His tone never changed, but the implication behind his words was strong.
He wasn’t just asking out of curiosity—this was a formal inquiry.
Troy, who had just stepped out of the ship behind them, scoffed loudly as he twirled his staff with one hand, the other resting against his hip.
"Preposterous," Troy said, brushing a strand of his dark hair away from his face.
"How dare you question the actions of Venedix—when I, the prodigy of House Nythrael, accompanied her?"
He stepped forward, eyes flashing with contempt.
"Surely the Order of Malakai rembers the history. Our house helped build this empire with knowledge and sacrifice. And now you question our judgnt?"
The silence that followed was tense, almost suffocating.
Before things could escalate further, Venedix finally intervened.
"Assets," she said coldly, looking straight into the mask’s eye slits.
"We were securing assets—valuable ones that would serve the empire well in the upcoming expeditions. Among them..." she trailed off, turning her head slightly towards Jinn and his group.
"...was my so-called apprentice."
At that, the masked man’s head tilted ever so slightly in interest.
"Ah... I see," he murmured, as if pondering sothing.
He then raised a single hand and pointed directly at Jinn.
"You. Boy. Step forward."
Jinn’s heart skipped slightly at the sudden command.
He looked at Venedix instinctively, searching for any objection—but she said nothing, simply watched.
That was her answer.
From behind, Verhedyn muttered low enough for only the group to hear,
𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶
"Give ’em a stern look for us, eh Jinn?"
"Heh. You don’t even need to tell ," Jinn whispered back, though his face remained still.
Jinn took a breath and stepped forward.
The sound of his boots echoed with every step until he stood directly before the masked man, only a few feet between them.
Up close, the golden mask was even more unsettling, its surface polished to perfection, reflecting Jinn’s face like a warped mirror.
The man leaned down slightly, as if inspecting him.
"Mhm... interesting," he muttered.
For a second, Jinn could feel the weight of his gaze, even behind the mask.
It wasn’t just curiosity.
It was suspicion.
Examination.
Calculation.
Whatever ca next, Jinn knew—he was being watched.
And judged.
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