"Blackhorn?" Ash murmured, intrigued by the peculiar name.

"Yes, Blackhorn!" Bailey exclaimed with excitement. "Sir, my mesh coat here? Got it from Blackhorn. No one dares to cause trouble there. Once we’re inside, we’ll be safe! In Blackhorn..."

"Do what you think is necessary," Ash interrupted nonchalantly, turning away without waiting for Bailey to finish. Bailey stood frozen in place, hands mid-air, stunned by the abrupt end to his enthusiastic pitch.

Ash retreated to a quiet corner, lost in thought. Reflection had long since become second nature to him—a survival skill honed on Garbage Planet 12. After every encounter, he would meticulously analyse his mistakes, study the habits and patterns of mutant creatures, and refine his tactics. Rune had greatly encouraged this practice when he arrived, even making it a mandatory daily exercise for Ash.

Recalling his recent ambush on Cyclops, Ash frowned. He had been too impatient, lacking the calm precision necessary for a flawless escape. If he had been more composed, he might have evaded pursuit entirely. His unfamiliarity with the outside world posed a significant disadvantage—a flaw not easily rectified.

The asteroid field had proven to be an ideal training ground for mech piloting. Its chaotic terrain demanded skill and focus, making it perfect for practising both maneuvering and marksmanship. Perhaps he should spend more time there in the future.

As thoughts of Rune crossed his mind, Ash instinctively reached out, calling for him. But there was no response. A pang of loneliness swept over him. The absence of Rune felt like a void. Life on Garbage Planet 12 had been bleak but oddly fulfilling with Rune’s constant companionship. They had shared laughter and banter, even in the harshest conditions. Here, in the vast unknown, Ash felt unmoored, cautious of every new encounter, as though danger lurked in the most mundane corners.

The universe beyond Garbage Planet was infinitely more complex and unpredictable. Despite longing for escape, Ash found himself yearning for the simpler days with Rune by his side.

----------------------------------------

At Reyno, the spacecraft port was abuzz with astonishment. Workers stared, mouths agape, as a battered and barely functional ship limped into dock. Even the most seasoned among them shook their heads in disbelief.

“In my fifty years here,” muttered a grey-haired technician to a younger colleague, “I’ve never seen a ship in such dire shape. It’s a miracle it even flew here. Tell them we won’t repair it—it’s not worth the effort.”

Oddly, the passengers of the dilapidated vessel made no such request. Instead, they only asked for a refill of energy reserves.

When Ash and Bailey disembarked, they drew curious glances from onlookers. Ash, unfazed, ignored them entirely. These people posed no threat, and thus didn’t warrant his attention. Bailey, once the second-in-command of the Red Talons, had grown accustomed to scrutiny and dismissed the stares without a second thought.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Reyno, once a mere asteroid, had undergone years of transformation to become a bustling hub. Located on the route to Blackhorn, its proximity to the enigmatic haven made it a vital stop for travelers seeking supplies. Traders unwilling to venture into Blackhorn often conducted business here, though goods were noticeably pricier.

Bailey slipped into the role of guide with ease, pointing out landmarks and narrating the history of Reyno. “This place is essentially a supply station. Most travelers stock up here before heading into Blackhorn. Due to the proximity, you’ll find many Blackhorn-exclusive goods here, though they’re marked up. Merchants unwilling to risk the dangers of Blackhorn often source from here instead.”

Towering skyscrapers loomed above, and various aircraft zipped through the skies. People in vibrant attire strolled the streets, though the roads themselves were sparsely populated. Ash’s attention was drawn to the holographic advertisements projected outside the shops. A translucent, ethereal beauty hovered above one storefront, her flawless features and alluring voice captivating passersby. Her every gesture exuded charm, enticing viewers to purchase the product she endorsed.

Bailey, entranced, stared at the hologram, slack-jawed and nearly drooling. “Perfect... She’s perfect... my dream woman!” he mumbled.

Ash, however, was unimpressed. His assessment, as always, was from a practical standpoint. Her legs were too slender for adequate power, her delicate hands lacked durability, and her oversized chest would hinder mobility. Even her long hair posed a hazard in combat, likely to snag on obstacles. Her only redeeming feature was her flexible waist, which Ash acknowledged could be advantageous in certain scenarios.

His verdict: utterly impractical.

Bailey, oblivious to Ash’s critique, continued to gush. “That’s Faye—my one true love! How did I not know she’s endorsing this? I have to buy it—it’s my duty as her biggest fan!”

Without another word, Bailey darted into the shop. He emerged moments later, arms laden with products, grinning like a fool. The shopkeeper waved him off, visibly pleased with the sale.

“What are those?” Ash asked, eyeing the goods.

Bailey blinked, his smile fading as he realized he had purchased women’s items. His face turned an unflattering shade of green.

Neither noticed the pair of watchful eyes tracking their movements.

----------------------------------------

“Are you certain it was him?” The speaker was a burly middle-aged man with a commanding presence.

“Absolutely, boss. I’ve seen Bailey plenty of times before—no mistaking him,” replied the smaller man, his shifty eyes darting about.

“But wasn’t Bailey reported dead by the Red Talons?” The boss frowned, perplexed.

“That’s what I thought too,” the smaller man admitted. “But I swear, I saw him! He wasn’t alone either—he had someone with him.”

The boss stiffened. “Someone else? Who?”

“A young man, average-looking, but with an air about him like everyone owed him money. Bailey seemed unusually deferential to him.”

The boss’s eyes widened in realization. “It must be him—the assassin who took out Cyclops.”

The smaller man gasped. “But wasn’t he last seen heading towards Crimson Beach?”

“He must’ve navigated through the asteroid belt,” the boss surmised, a grin spreading across his face. “Brilliant. He’s played everyone like fools. A man like that... If only we could bring him to our side...”

“What’s the plan, boss?”

“Keep an eye on them. Do not engage,” the boss ordered. “We’ll bide our time and make our move carefully.”