Crin waited triumphantly with his hands resting on his hips, black leather trench coat flapping in the wind. The Twins shone red on him as if blessing his moment of glory. Knight Vivana and her Shade task force would be landing in moments. He wanted to be here personally to commend her and retrieve the cargo.

Too much time had passed, and he was nearly prepared to take over the hunt himself. He shouldn't have to stoop low as a commander. Sometimes you couldn't count on anyone but yourself. He was always happy to be proven wrong.

Patience and faith in a subordinate had paid off for once. Vivana asserted herself as an asset. He considered entrusting her with his plans of conquest to see if she could offer any insight. If only House Hammel weren't such fervent Drakk loyalists. He needed to test her before giving her his trust.

With Kormel in custody, Crin could use the Shades to extract the location of the Inheritor, who was in the hands of the Syndicate or buried somewhere secret. Assuming power would be complex and a lengthy legal process without confirmation of his death. The sooner Crin had it, the sooner he could take the Sovereignty.

The skyport, with its hundreds of airship landing pads, buzzed with activity. Airships landed and took off, rotary blades spinning and buffeting him with the wind. The size of the vessels ranged from small personal craft to medium-sized freighters and large transport carriers with hundreds of passengers. The complex traffic was orchestrated by cyberminds and air traffic controllers in the silver command tower stretching into the pale blue sky like a spear.

Two squads of elite Police Force officers lined the bridge behind him. They were clad in blue uniforms and heavy body armor, carrying submachine guns on slings. Each stood at attention in perfect order. No one would be able to save or assassinate Kormel. Dozens of officers were posted around the skyport facilities—eyes open for any signs of danger or subterfuge.

Landing platform B21 was a private platform reserved, in secret, for National Intelligence vehicles. It was ninety meters in diameter and could land a large vessel if not for the clutter of pallets, storage boxes, and freight containers. He was grateful for all the cover.

His heightened Bond-sense hearing picked out the roar of an airship directly above. A rickety freighter spotted with rust, and faded yellow paint lowered itself onto the pad, squeezing between two large containers. Its blocky girth settled on landing claws, the cargo door ramp unraveling onto the asphalt.

He could detect the vibrations of three Bond-links.

Interesting.

The metal hull sections encasing thrusters and rotary engines ticked aloud as they cooled, slowly winding to a stop. Knight Vivana, clad in black Shade combat armor, descended first. Her loose curly hair fluttered in the wind. She scolded Crin with her gaze, amber eyes boring holes into him. Crin's stomach lurched. Had something gone wrong on the return flight? A half dozen Shades followed her, standing in a wedge formation behind her. Their hands clutched auto-rifles, dark helmets displaying no expression.

"Knight Commander!" Vivana shouted over the wind. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to murder and high treason to the Sovereignty. As an Argent Knight, it is my sworn duty to bring you to justice. Deactivate your Bond and turn over your Caster immediately."

Crin's fist clenched hard enough that it shook his arm. What nonsense had Kormel told them? Crin would cut his head off after he got the Inheritor's location from him. The lying weasel deserved it.

"What are you talking about, Knight Vivana? Is this some sort of bad joke?"

She didn't respond. A man descended the ramp, wearing archaic Alliance heavy combat armor and a featureless chrome mask. A familiar cobalt Caster orbited around him. A squad of masked soldiers stepped out in line with the Shades.

His eye twitched at the sight of the known terrorists. The Faceless.

Crin pointed at the Faceless soldiers. "What, in the name of God, are these terrorists doing here?"

A Faceless soldier, a short woman with a hood covering her turquoise hair, had a shell-less Caster floating above her head. A droplet of nervous sweat trickled down Crin's brow. If it came to blows, fighting two Bonded at the same time would be hard enough. Three, he didn't like those odds at all. Kormel was nowhere to be found, as far as he could see

When it couldn't get worse, the Bonded man removed his mask, revealing himself as Fahon Drakk. His breath caught, and he suddenly understood what was happening here. This was a reverse coup; they were coming to supplant him now.

This was a test from God. He knew it to be true. If he wanted to ascend, he would need to pass it.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Despite the seething rage boiling through him, he had to admit how clever a plan it had been. They outnumbered his forces, not that it mattered. Once they saw it was the Inheritor, they'd likely turn on him. He couldn't rely on his allies now and would have to fight alone. Because he wasn't going to turn himself in.

Every once in a while, you had to exert your power. It's why the Warrior Sect produced the best leaders. They knew when to force their subjects into subjugation. Democracies were always ranting about their supposed freedom and liberties. However, their societies were corrupted by the titans of industry and their bribes.

The woman with the turquoise hair drew a hand cannon and pointed it right at Crin's head. His fingers twitched, and he fought the urge to back away.

"You betrayed my father, Crin," the slime said. "I know it wasn't the Syndicate. Don't lie to me. To whom did you make a promise? Who did you send to kill him?"

"Can I shoot him now?" The turquoise-haired Faceless girl said. Her featureless Caster was resting over her left shoulder. She looked poised to strike, hand on the holster of her hand cannon.

Crin summoned a tall ring of glittering orange Phase-light around him, shielding him from all sides. He didn't know if the police officers would turn on him. It was better to be safe.

His enemies drew beads on him with their rifles. They didn't shoot, which was brilliant. Vivana no doubt had prepared them for Bonded tactics. Phase-light bolts, magenta, and blue, crashed into his shield, sharp points penetrating and forming webs of cracks. He reinforced the shield, cracks slowly filling. The bolts continued pelting like a steady rainfall.

Crin opened six small holes in his shield and shot his orange bolts at the enemy Bonded. A three-meter-in diameter bunker of blue Phase-light manifested in the blink of an eye, intercepting his bolts and giving the enemy suitable cover they could duck behind.

Taking a deep breath, Crin prepared himself to move. The walls around him wouldn't hold together forever against a barrage of Phase-light projectiles. Dropping low, he dismissed his fortification, shattering in a flash of fiery orange embers.

Bolts and a barrage of gunfire filled the gap where he had been standing before he dove off the landing platform. He couldn't fight them all at the same time. An intelligent warrior isolated and picked his enemies off one by one when outnumbered. They would have to come after him if they wanted to arrest him.

Killing the Inheritor and his subordinates wouldn't look good to the public. He would deal with riots and rebels after he seized Sovereignty. Bile swelled in the back of his throat. None of it was part of the plan. He was going to decapitate Kormel soon as he saw him.

The familiar piercing pain of a gunshot wound flared from his thigh. One had grazed his right ear, which pulsated with pain. Blood dribbled down the side of his head. He dropped like a dark meteor, his coat trailing behind him.

Below the landing platform was a sea of shipping containers. The large steel boxes were raised by enormous cranes. The entire operation involved thousands of automated lifts with robotic arms. Plenty of places to hide. The Bonded would track his Bond-link. He could use it to his advantage.

He braked with bursts of orange, effortlessly gliding to a red-painted container. Both feet met metal in a smooth transition, sprinting down the length as his boots drummed.

Vivana and Fahon landed maladroitly behind him with a crash. They were less practiced than he was.

A Phase-light bracer, shining orange, enveloped his forearm. Swatting side to side, he swept away one orange and one magenta Phase-light bolt, diving off the container. After a front flip, he landed on the pavement with both feet, shocking him with pain.

I'm getting far too old for this.

A woman screamed and crashed into a shipping container nearby. The tingle of her Bond-link told him it was the third Bonded, turquoise hair. She was a novice at using her powers, the perfect enemy to eliminate first.

Crin darted behind a row of wooden crates and emerged in the girl's row to see a gun pointed in his direction. Turquoise's hand cannon cracked. The shot would have gone straight through the middle of his eyes. This girl was an absolute gunslinger. He would have commended her skill if she weren't after his head.

Dodging bullets was hard for any Bonded, despite a slowed perception of time. By learning to focus, the slower they could perceive things. Of all the abilities associated with Casters, Bond-sense was the most important one to train. It gave an edge in the battle against all enemies, even other Bonded.

He deflected the shot off his bracer, the smashed bullet ricocheting into a wooden box beside him. In return, he flung a streaking bolt of orange Phasematter at her. She ducked it and shot twice. Crin hurled himself away with frantic speed.

Drops of sweat beaded his bald head, and he took a deep breath. Vivana fell two meters before him, arriving in a low crouch. She held a long spear of magenta Phasematter tucked behind her ar. The Inheritor stood atop an idle crane arm, arms folded as he watched.

He was going to let Crin fight Vivana one on one. How stupid of him.

"You can't run from us," Vivana said. "Just give up, Crin."

"You children have respect for your superiors." Crin pointed with a thumb to his chest. "Without me, this country would be nothing. It wasn't Fetrik Drakk who crushed the Scarl rebellion. It was me. He was a coward and wouldn't punish the Scarls for their disobedience. Don't you see the truth? House Drakk is a poison to this country and the future of humankind. To reach the heights God has aspired us to, we must reach further, bring this world to heel."

Crin Phase-crafted a greatsword into both hands, raising it above his head, crouching into a low stance. His thigh burned like it was stabbed with a hot poker. The adrenaline coursing through his veins helped him ignore It for now.

Vivana was the most talented Bonded of her entire generation. Most of the other Argent Knights holding Casters were getting older in age. They would have to pick their successors soon. The stock wasn't promising, to say the least.

Crin was glad the Scarls were returning. The Crimson Guard were competent Bonded, at least.

The Knight In dark armor stood tall, chin held high with pride. "Honor? What do you know about it? You're a liar and murderer."

She was right. But she would die for saying it.